#they had such a great opportunity to use his ears as a tool for expressiveness

[cow-tag]

If there is one thing that frusterates me about the samurai rabbit character designs, it’s this. Where are their tails. Where did they go. with usagi it takes a little bit of watching to realize he just. Doesn’t have one. But when you think about it kitsune and chizu, both characters based off animals with VERY PROMINENT TAILS don’t have them, it strikes me as weird.

I need chizu flicking her tail dangerously. I need kitsune’s tail slowly swaying behind her as she tells of a evil scheme (puppet shows). I need usagi wagging his tail as a happy stim

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Hey Terra 💝

My turn asking YOU something about that Fanfic Writer Bingo!

• What is your research about for Hange in Paradis?

• What fic did you write when you had drunk the most? (bonus point if you specify which type of alcohol was involved🍹)

Love you lots Terra Darling 💜

Yo! Thanks for sending me asks, Val 💞 

What fic did you write when you had drunk the most? (bonus point if you specify which type of alcohol was involved🍹) I'd been drinking for most of the afternoon by the time I wrote my Vets karaoke drabble ('We Are the Champions'). I remember enjoying some a lot of Bailey's with ice.

What is your research about for Hange in Paradis? It's actually been your amazing mood boards which have helped with this! I've been trying to picture one of the rooms in the Captain's house in Paradis so I've studied up on your images and a bunch of pictures of vintage roll top desks. Here are the results. I may/may not use every word of this in 'A Sunrise Without You Is Coming' (Hange in Paradis), but I'll definitely use some!

A wooden, roll top desk stood before the window. Hange drew closer, captivated by the odd assortment of items arranged upon its surface. The upper portion of the desk was divided into narrow, open drawers. Some were empty, whilst letters were stacked neatly inside others. On the very top shelf several hardback books leaned against one another - The Great Economists. The Rise and Fall of the West. A Brief Military History of Eldia. There was an empty bottle, its label too faded to read. Beside this, a glass pot filled with scissors, brushes, fountain pens and assorted slim tools. And then a circular, wire frame which enclosed a photograph of Levi with his parents. Hange lifted it, marvelling at a much younger Levi. He had to have been in his late teens when this was taken; perhaps in his final days of school. There was something so carefree in his expression; all responsibilities shed away. Those years of freedom and opportunity before he had shouldered the burden of captaincy. Standing behind him, his parents seemed to be barely containing their pride. Their smiles were almost on the brink of laughter; only modesty forbade them from expressing their unrestrainable joy. Levi’s father was built similarly to him - short and stocky - with dark hair. He was dressed in a dark green military jacket and white trousers, only–  Hange scrutinised the photograph. His crest was not Survey Corps, but the horse’s head of the Military Police. Hange replaced the photograph, turning their attention to a tiny wooden box beside it. Gingerly lifting its lid, Hange saw the same military crest. In a paler shade of green was the horse’s head, adorned by a mane of white thread. Shreds of dark green material still surrounded it. Hange almost withdrew, too afraid to touch it. But there was something else in here; another piece of cloth around the same size. The material was white, bearing hand stitching in a slightly darker white-grey. An elaborate letter ‘A.’ Hange snapped the lid closed upon it. 

A small, ceramic dish, nothing more than an old trinket for holding jewellery, had been tucked almost out of view by the wooden box. As Hange had replaced the former item, they noticed the dish contained a few odd pins and a pair of pearl earrings. Until recently, Hange understood, this must have also held a wedding ring. His mother’s. They threaded the gold band around their finger, suddenly feeling the momentous weight of its history upon their hand. How could Levi have trusted them with this? They were little more than a stranger to him. A Marleyan spy. An enemy invader. And yet he had given them something so precious in the slim hope that it could save their life…

Down upon the desk’s surface stood another picture, this time surrounded by a square frame. Here was Levi again, a little older than in the first photograph, but still without the years of sacrifice and duty that had pain-tightened his lips and dulled the light in his eyes. Here he was with two others - friends from a long time ago?  A taller blonde boy with a roguish grin and a girl with unruly red hair, hastily tied into low bunches. All three were dressed in casual clothes and bore backpacks upon their shoulders. Behind them stretched the expanse of a city horizon. Somewhere far from Paradis; somewhere humid and dense and sprawling, with vivid sunsets and too many people and mighty skyscrapers. 

Hange placed down the frame and adjusted the one next to it. This image was far more familiar. Levi stood in his Survey Corps uniform, his expression as serious as ever. Surrounding him, standing two in formation on either side of him, were Oluo and Petra, and Eld and Gunter. Each of them had their hands stowed behind their backs, expressions grim and steadfast as though they were staring into the face of danger. And now, they were. Every second Hange remained in this place, they were endangering them all…

Beside a small stack of letters bound by string, Hange flicked through another selection of slim books in the middle of the desk. The last of these was not a book at all but a faded green sleeve. The only words printed upon it were For Levi.

As they lifted it, Hange could feel a large, circular record shift inside. Hange looked about themself. There was a gramophone downstairs but they had been instructed not to make any noise during the day for fear it would draw attention. And yet, how they longed to hear what it might contain…

[cilil]

Forged in Fellowship Aulë ⚒ Mairon

Characters: Aulë; Mairon, Melkor and Yavanna are mentioned Synopsis: Aulë remembers a certain Maia he lost ages ago. Warnings: / Author's Note: Written for Forged in Fellowship. The companion piece featuring Mairon's perspective will be linked above.

The hammer looked so small in his hands. 

Aulë weighed it on his palm, a pensive expression on his face. It had been so long since he had made this one, a simple yet trusty and sturdy tool for a young Maia to learn his craft. He knew most of his students still had theirs, some proudly displaying it amidst their personal collection, some keeping it in a safe place; this one, however, he had decided to hold on to himself. 

This hammer had belonged to Mairon once–or Sauron as he was now known as, though Aulë couldn't bring himself to use that name. The memories of the talented, passionate young Maia he had known were too strong, too vivid in his mind still. 

He had heard about many terrible things of course, from Elves returning to Valinor as well as other Ainur who brought news from Middle-earth–tales of a cruel, malicious being, eagerly and gleefully serving his dark master, said to be just as evil as he was. Sometimes Aulë didn't want to believe them. Sometimes he just wanted to close his eyes and ears and refuse to listen, though deep down he knew it to be true. 

It hurt to lose his dear Mairon to corruption and to see how far he fell. Aulë knew he must have done something wrong, had often asked himself what it was and what he should have done differently. He had tried his best and loved him dearly, loved him to this day, and though he had to admit to his failure, he was still determined to make things right; be it by helping other Maiar or being there if Mairon ever returned, if fate would be so kind. 

Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but Aulë still believed in him. He believed in the Maia who had wanted to build and create, to improve and make things right, who was proud and passionate and ever eager to learn new things. He believed that there was still good him like a flame that would never be truly extinguished, just like he believed Melkor hadn't always been evil–though, admittedly, he wasn't sure if he could still find it within himself to forgive the one who had taken advantage of his kindness and taken his beloved student to drag him down a path of ruin alongside him. 

Mairon hadn't always been easy, as Yavanna occasionally reminded him, that much was true. He hadn't liked teaching and helping others very much and had often been impatient with his fellow Maiar when their progress was slower than his own, but Aulë had thought–maybe naively–that it was something that could be worked on, an opportunity for growth and learning. 

The hammer rested upon his palm, a silent reminder of ages gone by. Never again would things be as simple as they had been back then, that much he knew. Aulë closed his eyes with a sigh, fingers gingerly closing around the ancient tool. Even after all this time, he missed his Maia and he hadn't stopped believing in him; even if Mairon no longer believed in himself, even if no one else did. 

He was the Inventor, the Great Smith, the Maker of Arda's substances, he possessed the patience of mountains and was steadfast and unwavering like diamond. If there was nothing else he could do for Mairon and all the other Maiar that had been lost, then Aulë would wait for them to find their home one day. And when that day came, he would be there to speak in their favour, to help his brethren understand the ambitions many of his people held and, if Eru willed it, to guide his students back to a righteous path and mend the rifts and wrongs they left behind.

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[sillykoalalight]

Self -Transformation Through Art: How Denny Ja Save them with Larger Ears

Art has extraordinary power in inspiring, moving, and saving. Every form of art, whether it's music, theater, or literature, has the ability to change one's life. In this case, let us explore the inspirational journey of Denny JA, an Indonesian art figure who is enthusiastically using art as a tool to save the people around him. Denny JA, known as a writer, poet, and director, has devoted his life to art since a young age. However, his life journey really changed when he realized the great potential of art in helping others. Denny JA began to focus his energy to create art projects that had a positive influence on the community. One of Denny Ja's famous artwork is a musical theater entitled "Larger Ears". This story tells the journey of a young man, named Andi, who has ears that are larger than average. Andi is often a ban on his friends and feels isolated. However, everything changed when he found extraordinary talent in music. Music gives him the strength to face ridicule and feel accepted by others. Through messages delivered in "bigger ears", Denny Ja wants to teach the audience that everyone has extraordinary potential that may not have been revealed. This work of art reminds us that we must respect differences, because every individual has a valuable uniqueness. This message is very relevant in a society that often sees one eyes of different people or considered not "normal". In addition, Denny Ja is also involved in art projects that aim to save marginalized and less fortunate children. For example, he established a free art school in remote villages in Indonesia to provide opportunities for children who are less able to learn about art and develop their talents. In other projects, Denny Ja cooperates with non-profit organizations to provide art therapy to children who experience trauma or emotional problems. Self -transformation through art is not only limited to individuals, but can also affect the community as a whole. At the level of society, art has the potential to unite people from various backgrounds and strengthen social ties. By creating works of art that fight for universal values such as peace, unity, and empathy, Denny Ja has succeeded in forming a strong and harmonious community. It is undeniable that art has great power in changing the world. Through art, we can express ourselves, convey messages, and affect the mindset of people. Denny Ja is an inspirational example of an artist who uses his talent to inspire, empower, and save people around him. The story of Denny Ja and his artwork teaches us that art is not only entertainment, but is also a strong tool in changing one's life. The art of provides space for individuals to develop, explore their potential, and find meaning in their lives. When we open our ears and hearts for art, we also open up opportunities for self -transformation and positive social change. So, let's follow Denny JA's footsteps in saving people with "more ears

Check more: self -transformation through art: how Denny JA saves them with a bigger ear

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  II

Tagging @chelseareferenced so she can read this goodness first hand! ;3

Chapter 2

“You have got to be joking!” Heisenberg can’t contain himself, not that he ever censored himself in the past. This is beyond ridiculous, even for the high and mighty bitch herself. He’s quick to turn on his heel to stare down the deceiver but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t need to, not when Lady Goliath looks about ready to burst a vein. “Mother Miranda, I must protest!” Lady Dimitrescu hisses, eyes practically glowing with rage. “Heisenberg hasn’t the faintest idea of the gift you are giving, he’d sooner throw it to the dogs!”

You wince at how little she regards you, conflicted. As it stands Lady Dimitrescu is fighting viciously to no doubt claim you as her own, which bodes marginally better than the man who would sooner toss you aside without a second thought than look at you. The Countess stands tall but her posture reminds you of a petulant child, demanding to be given what they want. Albeit a regal one. All while Heisenberg stands there with a mean snarl on his lips that brandishes his impressive canines, aimed squarely at Mother Miranda. Lady Beneviento sits silent as the grave watching the exchange while her devilish doll wiggles in excitement on her lap. Lord Moreau lingers on the edge of the fray, wringing his hands; he’s clearly distressed at the fighting and you almost feel ashamed for being the cause of the turmoil. “My decision is final,” Mother Miranda states firmly, voice echoing unnaturally around the room, her form already receding towards the doors. “Mother Miranda, please!” Lady Dimitrescu calls out, a brief look of panic flitting across her porcelain features when she receives no response at all. The cracks are already showing — she will not get her way today. In a desperate attempt to regain control she turns to Heisenberg, who stands tense as he watches Mother Miranda leave. “Heisenberg!” She seethes, hands balled tightly into fists that threaten to snap the delicate neck of her opera length cigarette holder into splinters, “say something!” You watch, helpless, as he casually lifts his hammer, taking his sweet time under Lady Dimitrescu’s smouldering gaze. The others have already made a hasty retreat, following their Mother’s steps closely, leaving you at the mercy of the feuding siblings. When Heisenberg finally locks eyes with her, hammer set proudly on his shoulder, the tension is so thick you struggle to breathe. Then, he smirks. The tautness of his body melts away into a well versed confident swagger, complete with a wolfish grin, and Lady Dimitrescu recoils so quickly in rage that you fear she’s given herself whiplash. The tirade of pure and unadulterated hatred that spills forth is in no way befitting of a woman of such high standing but Heisenberg seems unaffected. In fact, it amuses him to see her become undone when he ignores her. You don’t understand how he’s so calm when faced with such venom, practically cowering when she turns to you, face twisted in indignation. “Now don’t be a sore loser,” he tuts, quickly tugging you to his side, “Mother Miranda made her choice, are you really going to defy her?” He teases, grin widening at the sight of faint colour spreading on the Countess’ face. Heisenberg always knew how to get under skin and make her squirm. Sparing you one last glance Lady Dimitrescu turns sharply on her heel to leave, huffing in annoyance and frustration. Neither of you are worthy of even a biting retort, it seems. “You can breathe, you know.” You startle at Heisenberg’s teasing remark, finally releasing the breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding the whole time. You had been so transfixed on the very real prospect of your demise at the hands of a nine foot tall Vampire woman that you may have neglected that small fact of life. Lightheadedness makes your vision swim and for a moment you think you’re about to faint. If ever there was something to make you feel like you had one foot in the grave that moment was very much it. It does not bear repeating. Heisenberg takes in your deer-in-headlights expression, chuckling at the way his stare makes your little hummingbird heart flutter more. You’re absolutely petrified. It’s understandable, he knows that he’s dangerous and your little flock has more than enough stories about the big bad Lycan master that lets his hounds descend from the ominous Factory to feast on the nonbelievers. Utter bullshit. Well, mostly. But they don’t need to know that, of course. “So,” he drawls, tilting his head, “Mother Miranda says you’re my new— what was it? Ah, right, right, my new servant.” It’s a statement, but you’re not sure if he fully understands what he’s supposed to actually do with you, just like Lady Dimitrescu remarked. You nod shakily, bringing your still bound wrists up in a feeble attempt to warm yourself. It doesn’t offer much, the metal is so cold it brings your skin out in goosebumps. Thankfully, Heisenberg notices. “Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he clears his throat, a sudden switch, and with a flick of his wrist the shackles snap apart and shoot off to the side. They clatter to the ground unceremoniously, rusted and broken. It’s almost sad how much you relate to them at that moment. “T-thank you,” you answer meekly, rubbing at your sore wrists. The blood rushes to your fingers, making them tingle. It’s an odd, but muted, sensation, given the gravity of your situation. He doesn’t reply, merely tips his hat at you before motioning for you to go ahead of him. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s a gentleman or if it’s a power play but you move regardless, your pace hesitant. You’re not eager to be thrust out into the chill of the mountain, not that it’s any warmer inside at this point. You can only hope that the Factory is better than this.

It’s so much worse. The heat— it’s humid, stagnant, and downright heinous. Steam hisses and spits from rusted, internal pipes that streak across the walls and ceilings of the corridors, making the air humid and cloying. Your feet ache through your boots as you try to keep up with Heisenberg's strides, echoing off the metal grating underfoot in an annoying clank clank clank rhythm. In an attempt to cool yourself down you try to sweep up your damp hair from where it sticks to the back of your neck, grimacing at the wetness that covers your fingers. You’re a sweating mess and you hate it. The elevator is your near breaking point. In such a small space the heat intensifies, stuffy and borderline unbearable. It’s normal, your muddled mind tries to rationalize, since the lower levels are closer to the furnace, and it’ll get better once you go up, but it doesn’t take away from discomfort. You notice with great irritation that Heisenberg is barely batting an eyelid, though it’s to be expected. He lives there, of course he’d be used to it. The ride to the upper levels is uncomfortable and not just because of the humidity. His eyes are on you the entire time, at least you think so given those round glasses that he wears obscure his eyes from your view, no doubt wondering just why he’d taken in such a mess. And a mess you most certainly are. Heisenberg can see how your desperately try to keep stringy, moist hair from plastering itself to your sweat-soaked skin, failing miserably as the rebellious strands slip from your fingers. There are dark patches to your simple dress, made worse by how it clings to your body from the heat. He can barely stop himself from smirking when you curse quietly under your breath, rolling your eyes in irritation as you fuss over your hair. It’s the first time that you’ve shown some real spirit. Your annoyance is refreshing on your flushed face, the dim, artificial light casting you in a dewy, warm glow. Sadly, it’s not enough to overpower how badly you need a bath and fresh clothes. “Well, here we are,” he announces as the elevator stops and the door opens up; your new home. It’s another long hallway that looks similar to the dozen odd that you walked through to get here, but you do notice that it’s comparatively cooler. It must be near the top of the Factory. It’s a pleasant relief and you follow Heisenberg to a cluster of rooms a little lighter on your feet. The tour is, well, barely that, as he shows you a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all outfitted with the barest of necessities and far too much scrap metal, tools, and other engineering components. You linger in the doorway of the modest bedroom, staring at the single bed pushed up in the corner as though that’s the out of place object in the room. He leaves you for a moment, fumbling through papers and projects on the heavily cluttered desk that takes up the length of one wall, and you wander the hallway, peeking inside rooms with doors slightly ajar. Most are storage rooms with all sorts of junk inside, but one looks salvageable with an old, banged up couch and minimal debris. As you look about envisioning how to make it more homely, leaning against the door frame, you’re not paying attention and it gives Heisenberg the perfect opportunity to scare you. “Found yourself a room, huh?” He whispers into your ear, pulling back quickly as you shriek in alarm and swing out your arm instinctively to hit him. You can barely hear your heart hammering wildly in your chest over the sound of his raucous laughter, retreating from him quickly. “Why would you do that?” You shout, wide eyes staring at him. Heisenberg can barely pull himself together, breaking into small fits of laughter at the sight of your astonished expression, exhaling deeply to try and ground himself. “Couldn’t help it,” he explains, grinning at you, “it was a perfect setup!” Flabbergasted, your mouth falls open at his response; this man was one of the four Lords of the village, not some child playing tricks! Noticing the offense you take at his actions Heisenberg scoffs, his own expression souring as he turns away from you. What was he honestly thinking? You were just another haughty, stuck-up, loyalist to Mother fucking Miranda that clearly wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and slapped you in the face. “Bathroom is right there, you reek,” he snaps harshly, pointing into a small room lined with cracked, dirty tiles and rusting, dated appliances. You glare at his back, wordlessly going inside and doping your best to slam the door shut, but all you manage is a half-descent rattle. You look about yourself and suppress a shiver of disgust, staring at the old, rusting shower that has clearly seen better days, questioning whether you can forgo washing after all. Needs must, you think to yourself, as you dig out the cleanest towel you can find from a rickety old cabinet in the corner. Thankfully the water is fine when you turn the handle and you quickly strip to take advantage of the first good thing since you came to the Factory. As you stand under the tepid spray you wonder if you are, as Mother Miranda had said, perfect for this task. Doubt nips at your resolve and tries to whittle down your faith, but you refuse to let it win. You must succeed, for Mother Miranda.

[persephoneyss]

The Monster.

Pairing: park jimin x f!reader.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, anguish.

Summary: ❝You can be reborn like spring, but your nightmares will follow your footsteps at night.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, voyeurism, Jimin is a little delusional, implicit murder, death threats, a little violence, stalking, death of secondary characters, reader idolizes his mother, humiliation.

Number of words: 6000+

︙ Author's note: this is my first fic here, sorry if there are errors. My first language is not English and I don't speak it fluently either, so I used the translator. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it, I am open to criticism. Thanks!

(Puedes leer este y más fics aquí en español.)

To block.

Your mind felt strangely familiar, like it was processing the same situation all over again. And then the same thing happened again.

Blocking.

You never noticed those little details, invisible to the eyes of others. Or maybe you took too seriously the message and advice that your mother always told you when you were afraid of being left alone in your room because of the obvious and silly repetitive story of the monster under the bed, you were crying looking for your mother's room in the middle of the night. You were looking for refuge in her arms. However, the only loving words she had for you were: "Ignore him and he will go away, darling."

It seemed very clever to you, you began to close your eyes ignoring your worst fears and in a short time you could do what most children could not at your age, sleep alone in the dark.

Your mother was wise, maybe that's why you never understood why your father left her overnight. She never commented on the subject and little by little it was forgotten in her daily lives. Your father never existed, you never saw him again.

In his small town no one was exceptionally well known, unless he had done something good or bad enough to be called a hero or, in the same way, a villain. You were barely seven years old when it happened, a family with a lot of money had chosen your town as a decent land, enough to build their luxurious house where their children who came from golden cradles would grow up. According to the gossip, they were foreigners coming to invade their town and rule it, when in reality the Parks never got more involved in politics than necessary.

They were just rich, spending money.

Young women from all over the world and even from other distant towns came every day to try to conquer the privileged children of the great mansion built finely and strategically in the middle of the main square. The young women were beautiful, many times you stood at the door of your house admiring their distinguished perfect faces and you wondered if the children of the Park family were really worth it so that young and beautiful women who had previously been rejected would come back again. in search of new opportunities.

Your mother sometimes stood next to you with a smile and released another phrase that ended up marking your style of thinking, her voice sounded so ethereal: "Money compensates for external beauty, plus the dignity that you lose to those who possess it, it will never have a price."

Your lost look made her smile beautifully badly, then that same sweet voice that taught you things that other women would see as irrelevant, she too moments later she orders you to come home to eat. You thought about it so much, your mother was beautiful, she could remarry if she wanted to. However, she never did, or at least until that day.

You were poor, you were never afraid to accept it. You noticed it almost immediately, when you saw other children playing with toys that seemed impossible that you will ever possess, your mother was friends with the one who was best friends with your father, a carpenter who seemed to be very kind. He always gave you toys that came out with small defects and he couldn't sell, he was a good man until he seemed to misinterpret the situations and her relationship with your mother, unexpectedly asking her to marry him. Obviously you had to stop seeing him after the rejection. However, you were stubborn like the woman who gave you life, almost every day after finishing school you walk two streets to her local.

"How is your mother? Any suitors who weren't rejected the first time?" You laughed, helping him finish his last job. You shook your head, Peter was always very nice and honestly funny, you still didn't understand how your mother could reject them, but you never got into adult affairs. You were just an eight-year-old girl.

"She still misses dad." You whisper trying to drive a nail into loose wood, before being interrupted by Peter.

You look curiously at his downcast face of hers, as if she was keeping something deep within himself. But he quickly changes his expression as well as the subject. "Very good girl, no more help for today" he says, removing the dangerous tools out of your reach, you let out a exhausted sigh wanting to help him. Deep down you felt guilty. "How are you doing in school? I heard that the Parks will start a new campaign to help more in the education of the children, maybe you can see someone from the family up close."

You move your head in distracting affirmation playing with a piece of wood, Peter watches you for a moment and then sighs. You really were special, and if I could tell what happened to your father, you would let go of that glow for sure.

The following days passed in the same way, there was only a radical change in your routine. Now they forced you to stay longer in school so that you could take art classes with the children of the Park family. You had heard many mothers talking to yours about how handsome they were, and since their daughters would undoubtedly have a chance with Jimin, who was the eldest son and of course the first-born heir, you thought for a long time about a tall man with more years than all those young women who hallucinated with the perfect millionaire husband. However, it was all an illusion. Jimin was not a man, he was a seventeen year old teenager.

Perhaps the young woman who did win him over would be very lucky to marry someone her own age and not a bitter old man who only had money. Jimin was everything, young, handsome and a millionaire, the best bet of any woman.

His first class was alongside his current teacher, introducing each child in the Park family. They were all very handsome, but Jimin seemed to shine brighter than the stars in the dark night. You wondered if his younger siblings would become jealous of him, it would be an interesting concept considering you had no siblings.

Your hands moved the clay very patiently, your classmates seemed to enjoy these classes and they were undoubtedly fun.

"What a beautiful flower ..." You smiled nodding, no one would ever think that someone like Jimin would be delighted with the common drawing of any girl. Her gaze traveled around your pure and innocent face, as if she couldn't get enough of you. She sat next to you, admiring how your hands continued to play with the dough creating new shapes and I certainly enjoyed every second.

She had never met someone who would attract so much attention from her, you were ethereal. Jimin was immediately drawn to you, your gaze clear as daylight and your soft features, maybe you were just a girl but you seemed to tempt his attention incredibly badly from him. He felt the strange sensation of making sure you were okay, safe, probably in his arms.

He followed you closely, always arriving at the same time. Her mother used to say that Jimin was very irresponsible, she never complied with the basic principles of being a Park: Discipline, order and punctuality. Jimin was different, his siblings may have fulfilled those three bases just to give what they wanted to their parents and receive more affection from him, but not him.

Jimin was obsessive. Impulsive, and he had self-control issues.

The biggest dangerous trait that his parents noticed since he was little, is that he suffered attacks of anger against anyone without caring about the consequences of this. More than three of his babysitters claimed that little Jimin had hit them, slapping and shoving them. But all of this was radically ignored by the Parks, who turned a deaf ear claiming that their son was simply too controlling, and in a way, he was. Jimin liked to have everything under control, at his disposal.

Jimin found himself fascinated with your little eyes looking at him without fear and, even though it was painful for him, without love. For you, he was nothing more than a stranger. He tried to change that, sitting next to you every day and talking to you a few times when he could get more than two sentences out of you. He liked art, I could tell by the way you focus too much on a small painting of an insignificant tree.

If you liked trees, Jimin could buy a forest for yourself.

You loved roses, he could plant thousands in every corner of town.

Or maybe, your obsession with the smell of vanilla. Jimin went wildly for the most expensive vanilla scented lotion, hoping for some praise from you and he really didn't fail.

No, when the next day he sat next to you and your gaze turned to him with a kind smile. "It smells great, Mr. Jimin." Your soft tone and your minimal compliment was enough to make his entire body shake, his hands began to sweat and his voice seemed to falter. It was amazing how you managed to make him so nervous, while he was still a child.

"Y-do you like it?" She asked even knowing the answer, your head bobbing in a quick nod and an even bigger smile adorns your features.

You put your painting aside for a moment to continue responding, Jimin feels elated to see that his plan worked. Now you're just looking at him, as it always should be. "It smells like vanilla, I like vanilla." You say honestly.

"I see, I also like vanilla." You seem shocked, Jimin increases the tension of him fearing that he said something wrong. He really wasn't lying, maybe vanilla wasn't something he used constantly but he didn't dislike it either, he was just disguising and embellishing a crude truth.

And before long, Jimin feels his life take an unexpected turn, people had started to notice his closeness to you. They called him an angel when in reality he was a devil, rumors and silly praise that he would be a good father were not lacking and the young women who came to his door every day to look for a date with him increased in an exorbitant way. You were oblivious to all that, clearly. However, you could not ignore all the looks that fell on you when you accompanied your mother to the market, as from one day to the next you became someone important just because you were the focus of attention of him Mr. Jimin, as you used to call him with respect. Peter also suffered the consequences of this, you had not stopped going to his store and the young women looking to conquer Jimin or at least get his attention began to follow you wanting to win your affection so that you will speak well of them with their desired man, no you were interested in what they could offer you but the biggest problem was that they did not like to receive a clear 'No.' as a reply.

They were insistent and often annoying. They followed you closely, even when you went to school or to visit Peter who now only went twice a week, you did not want to go out and have to face the pity that it gave you to see many beautiful young women begging for a vague love and that I was looking for more money arrangements than anything else. Also, not all of them had good intentions with you. Your mother made sure of your safety in the face of any incident, and with that came her last word, her strict order not to approach Park Jimin again until he found a wife.

The rest would be history.

He would surely forget you and start forming his own family, having his own children and likewise, looking for his own problems. Instead, that never happened. Jimin had discovered your plan, he was angry, he couldn't believe that you were ignoring his attempts to approach you in such a way. Your attitude was so pure but you were hurting her so much.

He was delusional, she knew he was. But he didn't want to stop. So, he did the only thing that would make you stay by his side.

You felt strangely calm, you had been to and from school with no one following closely in your footsteps. Until you noticed that the whole town seemed to look at you with superiority, with caution. Peter never stopped taking care of his store, however, that day it was closed. You gave little thought to that coincidence, walking home with slow steps. Deep down you were scared.

Maybe you thought you could feel it, in front of your house a crowd of people lay watching the most unexpected marriage request. Your mother was uncomfortable, you could tell by how her face was distorted, and how her hands seemed to shake for reasons not yet known to you. You watched in horror as Jimin knelt before her with a smile pulling a ring out of a small red box.

For a moment, you thought about your father. You felt strange, you always wanted to have a warm fatherly hug but it made you uncomfortable to imagine Jimin occupying that place, you did not want him, you did not love him as a daughter to his firstborn or as another similar relationship. He was a stranger.

Your body fell into the seat reserved especially for you, your eyes observed any place in the church trying to disperse your mind. Your little shoes brushed against each other, your hands rested on the wooden seat waiting for the wedding to end as soon as possible. You never wanted to oppose your thoughts to the idea of ​​your mother falling in love or getting married again, you really didn't care much as long as that person was good for her.

However, he was Park Jimin. You felt disgusted when her mother looked at you from afar with despicable eyes, just as anger consumed you when Mrs. Park tried to embarrass your mother in front of everyone. You didn't ask for this, nobody asked for it.

Maybe you spent too much time thinking around you to notice that Jimin was unhappy. A little upset. He had done what he had to do, chained you to him in some twisted way, marrying your mother and he felt happy, at first. I could see you walking through the church, you were wearing a little white dress to match your mother's and for a sinister moment I imagine that you were the one walking towards him to be named his wife. But he quickly came back to reality, you weren't his fiancée. You wouldn't be his wife.

Deep inside him, he knew how gross it was to feel like this.

Your mother's eyes reflected how unhappy she was, her gaze was uncertain. Jimin smiled seeing how you kicked the decorations that fell to the ground, you were completely oblivious to everything and more to the look of her that she followed you closely. Many called him a good father. Seeing nothing but his protective attitudes, but under the circumstances there were only hints of what might come next. You weren't allowed to leave Jimin's house, his father had left the mansion where his whole family used to live.

Mrs. Park could find no better excuse to leave than the sudden tantrum of her first-born son for marrying an older woman, a widow, and a daughter. This is a mockery and disgrace to her family's last name. Jimin just let her go, he wasn't even there the day her mother boarded the first train to her grandmother's house.

Your mother flatly refused to leave her house at first, she did not want to leave the little cabin that your father had built with his own effort so that both of them would live there and in the future raise their children, you always lived there and you did not want to leave either. But you never had a solid vote, your mother ended up agreeing from one day to the next, you did not know how Jimin managed to change his word so suddenly. Maybe there was never one reason, but you became all of them.

You were painfully present at all times. You observed how little by little, the wispy and wise glow that your mother possessed was getting lost between her empty eyes and her bent body, her head was never raised as she taught you it should be. She was a stranger, you felt scared in her presence. You remembered very well how her face seemed to light up when she saw you coming home from school and how she taught you something new every day.

"Mommy..." You spoke, your hands were still busy with the picture that you hadn't finished painting. But curiosity began to attack your mind.

Your mother came out of the kitchen with a little gray apron, she smiled when she saw you sitting on the floor. "Yes, honey?"

"Why do people get married?" Your gaze lifted from the sheet of paper, wincing at her glowing eyes.

"It depends, it's not necessarily for love. Maybe for money, comfort or ..." her voice trailed off, she still staring at you she leaned down to take your face in her hands. "Because they found someone, as cute as you!"

"Mommy ... I want to marry you!" Your mother began to laugh, your gaze traveled all over her face, joyful of hers and for a moment, you swore that you would hate anyone who dared to take away the great happiness of a genuine smile.

You finished your drawing, just in time because the front door echoed through the entire cabin. Your father appeared with a small drawer in his hands, your mother seemed to be illuminated with an angel when she saw him enter with a kind smile. Both were such for which. They were, more than lovers and husbands, lifelong best friends. Your life seemed to have something that many do not get even after death.

An outer and inner peace. It was perfect.

Almost so perfect, it wasn't true. White roses were always your favorites. However, you began to detest its soft light petals when it seemed that all the townspeople bought the same bouquet of white roses for the funeral of your, now, deceased mother. You took a seat next to her grave, ignoring everyone's greetings and goodbyes, who apparently forgot how her criticism of her increased even as the days, months and years of her wedding with Jimin passed.

You couldn't blame anyone. Or you just didn't want to.

Because the rope around his neck was not placed by them. And the multiple scars on his wrists weren't his marks. A small part of you felt helpless, angry and respectively, disgusted with yourself. Could you help her? Yes. No. Maybe if you had ... And he had stayed in the past.

The little white rose in your hand fell to the floor, everyone had left the room to go to the large buffet served at the reception. You froze, then with the same rage you began to step on the already dead flower at your feet, the petals of it were no more than a pure color, now they were disgusting and dirty. Jimin appeared minutes later, your gaze fell on his hand that was holding a black and a red rose.

"We should go, honey." He whispered as if afraid to scare you even though you were already looking directly at him. Your immobile figure instinctively ran into his arms, which greeted you with an incredibly loving warmth. The roses were placed on top of the coffin, a smile spread across your face when you saw the color red stand out against so much white, and for a second you came to compare the beauty of an outstanding color with your mother.

She stood out in a world where everyone wanted to paint themselves pure white.

Jimin was even more welcoming to you now. He pretended to sleep waiting for 11:30 to arrive so that he could hear your footsteps on the way to his room, you had developed a great amount of fear of loneliness. Jimin knew you always did that, but before it was with her instead of him. You would walk for several seconds looking in the dark for his room, which was next to hers, then I would always hear her voice singing for you, making you rest in his arms. For a long time, I want to be her. But now he was gone and I knew it was a matter of time before your steps stopped at his door.

She loved the closeness of your body to hers, how your hands clung to her nightshirt when you were cold or a horrible nightmare was projected into your dreams. Jimin horribly wishes he could see beyond your dreams, although that would be disrespectful to your privacy, he wouldn't mind breaking your trust too much if he could be sure that you would never walk away from him, even in your dreams.

He managed to chain your life to his, your scared look was the most beautiful thing I have seen before. I want to touch your little face and kiss your soft lips that tempted him every time the word "dad" came out of it.

Time was his greatest enemy.

Your presentation was no better, your hands were trembling again while your feet moved from here to there restlessly. Jimin just watched silently, but the distance between you and him was gigantic, he just wished that the damn bitch that was presented before him would shut up and leave his house. It was remarkable how you seemed angry, maybe it's jealousy, she has feelings for me. He thought sickly, a smile spreading across his face discreetly at his incoherent thoughts of him. The young woman sitting on the sofa in front of him smiled thinking that her talk had caused some pleasure in the young and widowed man.

Jimin admired her face, she was very cute, also she seemed to have good manipulation technique in people. She noticed it quickly when she walked through the door, her smile that seemed uncontrollable and genuine lit up his childlike face. He took a few seconds, he knew he shouldn't do it but he couldn't help comparing the woman to you. You were shorter, you were obviously younger and your gaze was more pure. Jimin was proud of your firm stance, knowing that in the two years since your mother's death you had developed a closer connection with him, and likewise, you were a beautifully perfect copy of him. Your hard gaze and your legs crossed with each other showed your firmness, and your silent opinion.

You wanted the fucking bitch sitting across from your stepdad outside your house.

You laughed at the very idea of ​​one day finding a really good replacement for your mother. You couldn't replace a rose with bad herbs. For you, as selfish as he was, Jimin was your father, and he was your mother's love from the day he married her. No one would replace his position.

It was all three of them, and a part of your mind conned that Jimin still wasn't over the love he had for her. Or he would have remarried long ago, when the young women stood in front of the door of his house asking for a date with him. In those moments you didn't care, Jimin was a stranger, but now he was your father and you were his only daughter. No one had the right to ruin their harmonious relationship, they were both alone and someday serious like him.

You will be successful, you will make a lot of money and you will be able to marry someone you love.

But for now, your gaze fell on the little worn and dirty shoes of the woman in front of you. A smile crossed your face, your gaze lifted surprising the woman. While Jimin waited with his arms crossed for your following action.

"Woman." Your voice seemed to cut her tranquility, her face lost total color of life and a small grimace of fear passed over her fragile face. "I can't allow shoes like that to step on the carpet in my house ..."

The woman looked at Jimin who seemed indifferent, distracted by the painting on the wall.

"I'm sorry miss" she whispered trying to remove her shoes, his hands seemed more clumsy than usual. Her face burned when your hand moved closer to hers to prevent any further movement.

"Go away." A tiny part of you felt sorry for his embarrassed face and flushed cheeks. But it quickly came to your mind that she thought she was good enough to believe she was your mother. When she couldn't even challenge a stupid girl who acted like a spoiled brat. "Get out of my house, or I'll have to ask you not to just take off your shoes."

"I-sorry, I'll go now-..." A sob interrupted her dialogue, her hands searched for the notebook she was carrying but she gave up making a quick bow to Jimin and running outside.

The garden was your favorite part of the big house, the walls constantly made you believe that you were going to be eaten by them. Every day you came out of your lair admiring the many roses of many different colors growing beautiful and healthy. Your school stage was about to begin and you did not want to neglect your garden, which was also a tribute to your late mother.

So you hired a gardener. You were seventeen years old and soon to be eighteen. To say that you managed to experience the best of all those years was ridiculous, and deep down inside you, you thought that all of that was possible because of all the things Jimin did for you.

You had a debt, which you planned to pay in the future. You thought about leaving and letting him have a quiet life from now on without having to run to solve your problems, even if you never asked him to.

Jimin had eyes watching your every move, he clearly remembers how he put security cameras throughout the house, observing how you slept, what you did in the comfort of your room and privacy. Even when you walked into the shower and your hands ran over your body covered in water. Sometimes he felt guilty, for how he seemed to enjoy those moments that seemed so short.

However, it was repeated that as long as you were safe.

Breaking your trust wasn't that important.

Your eighteenth birthday was moderately quiet, Jimin was not used to throwing parties, and honestly, you never asked for one. So you just stood at the door of your house receiving expensive and cheap gifts from people who when they gave you the gift had a forced smile that told you many things. Most were familiar faces, of women who had previously sought a date with your father, obviously being rejected.

The little birthday cake looked so monotonous, the candles were the only thing you could stand out for. You were never aware that you had started to be privileged and extremely ambitious since Jimin proposed to your mother and forced her to marry him, pointing a gun at her pathetic silly little head. You had it all, and in your previous years maybe you managed to get excited about the new toys and accessories that were brought to you from other countries, you had everything that others did not, and a strange epiphany collapsed over you.

It was you, it was déjà vu. You were them, and those who were before, were now you.

You had all of them, and they didn't. Now, by your side, they were all poor. Jimin showered you with gifts, causing you to gradually lose interest in money. You remember your thoughts when it all started and likewise, you still remember the woman with the dirty shoes. You will be successful, you will make a lot of money. It was what you thought in the future for yourself, but now that was it, in a nutshell. Completely boring. You stayed for a moment thinking about them under the watchful eye of your stepfather who tried not to smile when you saw you, you were an adult now and he could finally take you as his own. They would be husband and wife, as it should have been from the beginning of its history.

And you will be able to marry someone you love. You still had only one option left, you blew out the candles with a single sigh causing Jimin to clap his hands and approach you to hug you fondly. The maids behind you only blushed when his boss started showing all of his affection. They weren't used to seeing him so often, Jimin had a firm and tough stance with everyone but he seemed to become as soft as clay in your presence. You came to mold Jimin in your favor, making him a cold person in front of his own demons and then, you left yours.

"I want marriage proposals, father." A gasp came from the mouths of the maids who just immediately fell silent. Lowering their head as they were taught. "I am ready to get married."

Jimin hummed still keeping his arms around you, your body was trapped in theirs. Your skin burned when his fingers squeezed your skin, leaving permanent marks. There was no reaction from you, you were used to this kind of unexpected treatment and it just didn't hurt.

"Get married?" His arms pulled away from you in disgust, there was no other reaction either. Jimin taught you not to object unless you knew you should. Stay calm and you will win. "And can you tell who would want to marry you? Useless little girl."

"Useless?" Your low voice seemed to make him happy for a moment.

Quickly his hands took the utensils to cut the cake, with a soft and sweet voice he continued: "Honey, men do not look for a girl with a lot of money like you. They look for someone to tame, and you, you could easily crush everyone with a wave of your hands."

A piece of the cake perfectly positioned on the plate was placed in front of you, a sob escaping your lips. You were really pathetic, eh? You clearly wanted to live something that has been claimed many times. You weren't going to get married, not without having it all like Jimin said. Then, you would lose everything and go back up to crush the others with greater pleasure.

"Aren't you going to eat? It's your cum-..."

"I will go to a neighboring town, I will finish my studies there."

Jimin looked down at his plate, ignoring how you got up from the table and put your cake aside. Then, your sweet voice finished destroying his self control that he thought he mastered long ago.

"I never liked that cake taste."

And it was the end.

You went back to the start again. You were planning to leave tonight, your bags were ready. Everything you needed was never in that house, it was never him. They were those that never existed in your present continued.

Your shoes did not seem to contrast with the dirt on the town's floor, you were also aware that those would end up in the trash. You didn't care, they were just shoes Jimin bought for your birthday, insignificant.

People were observant, and often foul-mouthed. It was no different than they spoke far from you or close to you, yet their mouths moved in a fussy way exaggerating reactions and creating new lies.

"_____...?" Your posture was decreasing, you no longer had to pretend. A smile covered your face, framing many emotions in one. "Come in please, it's your house."

Peter stepped aside, leaving room for you to enter. Your hands trembled but this time from cold, you still did not get over the harsh winter that suddenly passed. You took your shoes off quickly, briefly forgetting that this was no longer your home. You had sold the little cabin at a minimal price, and you were even happier when it was Peter who chose that place as his future home to live with his wife and his future child. Now he had two more. The little children ran in the tiny room playing with each other, a feeling of nostalgia invaded you when you saw them. You used to do the same before, together with your parents.

Those moments.

"Glad to see you around here, daughter." Peter hadn't changed, he was still the same kind and understanding person as ever. The opposite of you, of course. "Do you want to have tea? I heard on the streets that you would go to study far from here."

"Coffee, please." You responded still reluctant to talk about your departure.

Peter just laughed at your exaggerated denial, nodding and leading into the kitchen. You took a seat at the small table looking around. "You didn't change the decoration."

"Uh? ...." He seemed surprised by your observation, but he quickly smiled. "No. Actually, I think I liked it from the beginning how your ... er ... your mother decorated it. Besides, my wife loved it too. For her, it's beautiful as spring."

"Spring?" You ask, avoiding looking at it. You look down looking for some reason not to feel sad, in a way, you had compared your mother to spring as well. However, Jimin said that you were his. You never liked being called a light, because you always tried to be in your mother's shadow. And you liked it. "She believed that she is very wise, my mother was like spring."

"Thanks." A voice whispered from behind, your gaze fell on her and her face very much like your mother's. But they were obviously completely different. "I never doubted that you were just as wise. Spring represents the new beginning, a new beginning. Did you manage to find yours?"

Peter tried to intervene, clearly noticing the way his wife was trying to make you talk about your life after your mother died.

"I did. That's why I'm leaving here tonight."

"I'm glad we all need to be born again at some point."

You affirm with a small movement of the head, concentrating your gaze on the coffee cup in your hands. The smoke fell directly on your face hiding your grimace of disgust. Nobody deserves to talk about her like that yet.

"Ok, honey." Peter began by sitting across from you, with a cup of green tea and a serene expression. "Are you planning to go alone or with someone? I heard that travel today is very dangerous."

"Actually, I am accompanied by an acquaintance. His name is Jungkook, he also planned to leave and started working for me as a gardener to get the necessary money. We became good friends." You spoke remembering the adorable smile of the young man, he used to accompany you everywhere you went as if his job was to protect you. At first it was cute, but then it was annoying. Even after all that, you preferred to travel with him rather than alone.

"Oh that's very nice. I'm glad you managed to meet your goals. Good luck."

Your goals?

"Thanks, Peter."

His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he seemed to remember something very important. She gave you a smile before getting up to leave the kitchen.

"I have something for you, you are old enough to know this."

It was an envelope. Common and ordinary, but its envelope was beginning to deteriorate, showing that it was an old and very reserved letter.

You questioned your decision but took it, not wanting to read it in front of anyone even more when you read who wrote the letter.

You sat on the small wall, the trees and the cool breeze boosted your adrenaline. Small pieces of paper fell to the ground. So, you weren't thinking correctly at those times.

"I only married a man that I loved in all my life, I was happy. I had a daughter. I lived years of solitude and then, I was chained to an empty love."

"I know what you're reading this now. You're weak, darling. Maybe that's what made us mother and daughter. Because from the beginning I never had the courage to tell you that Jimin put a ring on my finger and a gun to my head. Or maybe, I was weak when I didn't get in the way of his errand, I should have told him that I hated him and that he could put a bullet in my head before giving it to my daughter. And maybe, I should have told everyone who passed by me that He was the same one who murdered my husband, he never left. I made you believe that. You never asked. "

"I saw you so happy today, you were running between the garden and the wedding. I could see his gaze following your hurried steps, I was almost completely sure that he was trying to get closer to you at all times. I told the woman next to me, But she shut me up saying that I can't be jealous of a father and daughter relationship. You weren't her daughter. She also ordered me to let them create a closer relationship, because I already had Park Jimin's heart in my hands. Liars."

"I always loved your curious voice. You used to ask me everything, and why everything was like that. But lately, I don't know what to answer. Why am I crying? Why is there a dark stain under my eyes? Why is there blood in the bathroom? Why did I never ask for help? I see you worry and you don't let me give you affection, because you prefer to give it to me. I also see how I start to bother him, I am a hindrance. Now I understand, I knew it but I never wanted to accept that it happened. He was everywhere, and likewise, I was never part of the plan."

"There were only two things I didn't tell you. I love you and my last piece of advice. Honey, lock it up and fly to the start, whenever you feel lost. A fresh start and never forget spring."

You stifled a sob. Covering up your pain. You had not noticed that the night had covered the sky, a dark blue blanket arrived. It took you a long time to assimilate that all the fragments were torn papers, and it was not a letter. It was an envelope filled with, apparently, incomplete sheets torn from a notebook. There was a fragment that was not part of the leaves, but rather was written later.

"Lost parts of a sad widow's diary.

Peter."

They were from your mother's diary. So where was the rest? What actually happened? A message came to your phone, you read it quickly still drying your tears.

JUNGKOOK:

Our trip is in an hour, I hope you said goodbye to everyone.

Received at 7:05 p.m.

I still do not:(

Received at 7:06 p.m.

Along with both messages was an attached picture, a photo of him and his grandmother. Jungkook talked a lot about her, and hers, her brothers. You smile, still wiping the tears from your face.

Your feet moved, the leaves in your hands seemed too heavy. And yet it was something you needed to do.

"Are you at home." His monotonous voice invaded you, he was busy reading a book that rested in his hand. The maid came over leaving a cup of coffee beside him, greeting your presence politely. "I have some things to discuss with you, darling."

"Me too, Jimin." It was the first time you had said his name without due respect, he seemed surprised for a moment. But his expression changed to one of happiness, as if he had been waiting for it. "I couldn't say goodbye, I'm leaving today. I think you already know that, though."

"Actually, no. But it's nice to hear it from you."

"I ..." Your voice dried in your throat, a giant doubt fell over you. You didn't want to leave without telling him how much you hated everything about him. His attention, his affection, his smile, his gaze, his voice. Everything about him was disgustingly charming. "I think I'll go get my bags."

Jimin nodded, ignoring your presence. Still distracted with reading him.

"Before you go, can you give me that back, darling?" Your gaze followed where he pointed his finger. Your hand. The leaves were still there.

"It's something of mine-..."

"Oh I don't think so. It really is very easy to threaten someone, just suffice to say that you can put a bullet in their head to make them your obedient little puppets."

"I do not understand your..."

"Me? It was obviously me. I'm surprised you thought your mother would be smart enough to leave a confession letter to her ex-lovers, days before her death. You really had a lot of credit for her." His chatter was accompanied by a laugh. You were paralyzed, shaking in your useless state of shock. "But I will not say that I did not plan, I hoped that you would never have the courage to try to leave my side. And even if that were the case, I knew that you would say goodbye to the only person who reminded you of her. Peter, she has a family. lovely."

Nor did he expect you to have the courage to cheat on him with another man. Oh, the gardener. Poor Jungkook, his body now rested leaving behind your favorite flowers. Jimin bit his lip, another mocking smile peeking out with intensity remembering the cutthroat figure of the innocent but guilty young man.

You were his...

"How can you be so cruel?" The doubt in you seemed to want to keep growing, passing second by second through your head. You weren't sure you could understand that everything that happened in front of you was actually planned by the same person who swore never to leave you alone. The same man who disguised himself as a sheep so he could eat you like a wolf. "Did you kill my mother ?!" Jimin seemed surprised by your desperate tone, he did not expect to be able to unbalance your state so easily.

It was lovely. Certainly.

"No sweetie." He murmured closing the book in his hands, setting it on the table next to the steaming cup of American coffee. "But it would have been exquisite to be the reason for his pain. Unfortunately, it was your father who won that title."

"Where did you get this from? I know she wrote it, and I also know that she would never give it to you knowing what a monster you are." Tears were running down your cheeks like water, you knew you were a mess but Jimin seemed to look at you like you were a perfect work of art.

"I found it." He spoke casually, getting up from his seat. Walking slowly towards your trembling figure. "It was a coincidence, I like casual things. It was a coincidence that you studied at that school, that your mother was a widow, that your father died. That he will make me fall in love with you."

What is your goal now?

"I love you darling."

Escape from the monster.

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

My Yellow (18+ EraserMight)

NSFW Aizawa Shouta x Yagi Toshinori

Warnings: Established relationship, nsfw

They’d been together for quite some time now, and even though both of them had been in relationships before, neither were bold enough to go all the way.

On one hand, Toshinori instantly turned pink at the thought of even mentioning sex to his boyfriend, and on the other, Aizawa would die if he ever made his lover uncomfortable.

So, neither of them said a word about what they truly wanted to do to each other.

Or, in Toshi’s case, what he wanted him to do to him.

But that was neither here nor there as long as they kept quiet.

The thing is, when you deprive yourself of what you want, tension rises.

A lot.

Toshinori came into work early, as usual. To his surprise, Aizawa was already in his seat, casually sitting comfortably with his legs spread wide open. It wasn’t a conscious choice, and he wouldn’t have ever sat in such a suggestive position if anyone else was around.

Another thing, though, was that Aizawa was never one to come into work early. Maybe he’d been working on something all night? 

So when he saw Toshi come into the room and make eye contact with his groin, he instantly shot up and crossed his legs, typing aggressively. The ‘w’ key nearly flew off as Toshi took his seat next to him quietly.

Though Aizawa did his best to ignore him, he could hear how Toshi was breathing just a little harder than usual.

Of course, that could just be chalked up to his condition. So, that’s what Aizawa repeated to himself until the thoughts of him on his knees looking up at him went away.

A few nights later, Toshi was relaxing in the living room, drinking his nightly tea and staring out the window and into the darkened sky. All he was wearing was a pair of red flannel boxers.

“Hey, sunshine, whatcha-“ Aizawa gulped as he noticed what he was wearing.

Toshi turned around, blushing from hearing that cute little nickname. It was rare that Aizawa ever used honorifics, and even rarer that those honorifics would be so... adorable.

Aizawa took a few moments to eye his boyfriend, tracing even his scar with his eyes.

God, he’s so fucking hot. Even doing nothing, he’s just perfect. I wish I could-

Before he could stammer out a compliment, though, Toshi had already began talking about something totally benign.

Another opportunity lost.

It was Friday evening when Toshi finally snapped. He was lying in bed, assuming he was alone. He figured that Aizawa had taken the night shift, and was dealing with patrolling the neighborhood. So, he took this opportunity to relieve himself.

He scrolled through various porn sites, trying to find something, anything that’d interest him.

But none did.

So, he had to resort to the old fashioned way: just imagining.

Boring, I know.

But hey, what else can a horny guy do in desperate times like these?

So, he got to work. He pulled out the lube he stashed deep under his mattress, in a silly attempt to hide his libido from his boyfriend as if he were a teenager afraid of being scolded.

His thumbs locked onto his boxers, pulling them down just enough so his tool was accessible.

He spread his legs apart, saturating his cock with the lube. As it made contact, he flinched at the cold, but the warmth from his hands and body helped ease the momentary discomfort. He sighed as he wrapped his fingers around himself. Instantly, tension that had been building inside of him began to ease just a little.

When was the last time he’d had time for himself like this?

Once he and Aizawa moved in together, he never really had much alone time. He preferred going to bed early and being an early riser, while Aizawa was either working all day and sleeping all night, or working all night and sleeping all day.

Thus, whenever he had time off, Aizawa was always just a room away.

Not that he didn’t like being with him constantly, it’s just... he didn’t want to make things weird. He just wanted to keep this relationship full of love.

Toshi had been in a couple relationships. I mean, of course he has. He’s all might, after all.

But what made those different was that none were really centered around what mattered most to him: love.

Usually, it was just women who thought he was attractive, or wanted him for his money, or just wanted to be friends with benefits.

Well, that was another thing. Toshinori had never been intimate with a man before. Or even been in a relationship with one.

Frankly, the thought of actually doing it with him was sort of intimidating.

But still, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d look down at him, running his fingers through his hair as he bobbed on his cock.

He pumped slowly but steadily, not needing much to excite his neglected member. He was touch starved for so long that just pleasuring himself was nearly too much for him.

So, he kept it simple.

Meanwhile, Aizawa was on his laptop in the living room, which was one door away. He’d decided to teach today’s class virtually, and he was free from his patrol duties for the night.

This was far from usual for him. He enjoyed to keep busy, staying active and feeling productive sort of gave him a purpose. Funny, isn’t it? You’d think that Aizawa was a lazy man, but in fact, he loved his job, and often overworked himself into oblivion.

Class was over, and he was now totally free to hang out with his boyfriend. He allowed himself a little smirk at the thought of that.

The lanky man stood and stretched, sighing as his joints popped. He’d been sitting down for a little too long.

As he approached the bedroom door to greet Toshinori, he heard it.

It was Toshi’s voice.

Now, Aizawa barely recognized the sounds and mumbling as his lover’s. None were familiar to him. That being said, though, the little, muffled moans leaked with the essence of him.

He knew he shouldn’t listen, but...

fuck, it’s hot.

Toshi, from inside the bedroom, didn’t even notice Aizawa’s footsteps. All he cared about was the Aizawa in his mind that was endlessly praising him for being a good boy for him. How he’d gently suck him off as a reward for serving him so well.

Seeing as he was seemingly home alone, Toshinori had no issue letting himself go, embracing the lewd sounds that escaped him and echoed back into his ears from the walls. There were no neighbors to speak of, no thin walls. Just him, his hand, and his imagination.

Aizawa pressed his ear against the door, listening intently. He was getting hard just by imagining what Toshi could be doing in there.

God, it’d be great if he’d just whimper out my name...

He thought shamelessly. By now, lust had completely taken over any semblance of logic and reason he had left. All he wanted was to bust the door down and-

The door opened.

Toshi had just his boxers on, paired with wide blue eyes and a slightly parted lips.

Aizawa’s face morphed into the same expression when he realized what he’d just done.

“H-h...how... long have... oh,God...fuck...” Toshi whimpered. His face was pink before, but now was tinted a bright crimson.

“I...um...fuck...” Aizawa mumbled, rubbing his forehead and looking away.

Toshi took a shakey breath, gathering up every ounce of courage he had, pushing down the last of his embarrassment. He had to for what he was about to pull next.

He mumbled a “fuck it,” gently taking the shorter man’s face in his hands and placing a kiss on his lips. It was sweet, tender, and most of all, passionate.

Aizawa pulled away, grabbing one of Toshi’s wrists.

“You don’t have to,” he stated, looking up into his eyes.

“Neither do you,” replied the blond.

“I mean, do you want to?” He added shyly. His confidence was all used up by his first little stunt. Luckily, Aizawa could take it from here.

“Well, duh,” he smirked. Before he could even get to the bed, Toshi was already playing out his fantasy to the best he could.

He kneeled on the hardwood floor, looking up at the ravenette as he tugged at his waistband as if asking for permission.

Aizawa tossed a pillow at him.

“Not without putting this under your knees. You’ll get bruises,” he instructed, keeping his boyfriend’s much frailer state in mind.

The tiny caring action didn’t help to stop his bulge from returning.

So, he did as he was told, and positioned himself on top of the pillow. Truthfully, it was much more comfortable, and a lot less stress on his achey bones.

Aizawa watched as Toshi gently unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling them down to reveal his now fully erect cock.

Aizawa never wore underwear anyways, but hell, it definitely worked out for him this time.

Toshi wasted no time in taking it into his mouth, trying frantically to remember all the things pornstars usually did.

Um, shit, do they usually do it like... this? Oh no, I’m going to mess this up... fuck...

He then tried to deepthroat him. Huge mistake.

Instantly, he pulled away, gagging and coughing.

“You alright down there?” Aizawa asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Toshi nodded, wiping his mouth.

“Just do what feels right. You’re doing good. Just don’t get caught up on what’s ‘correct’, alright?” Aizawa comforted. It was as if he knew exactly what Toshi was thinking about. He nodded, twirling one of his forelocks on a finger.

He gently took it back in, trying his best to push out any expectations he had for himself.

Now, he just wanted to have fun.

He took his time exploring every inch of his partner, dragging his tongue from the base all the way up to his tip, taking a moment to swirl and suckle once he got there. Aizawa was absolutely eating it up, smirking down at him and placing his hand against his head to gently encourage him.

“God, just like that, baby... fuck,” he mumbled. His voice warbled under the intense pleasure. It really sank in at this point that this was really happening, and that he wasn’t just lazily jacking himself off in his car in an empty parking lot like he usually did.

Toshi squeezed his balls, gently, but confidently. He smiled to himself when Aizawa bucked and whimpered in response.

“I-I’m close, Toshi...ahh... you... might wanna...ng...” he moaned, being cut off by Toshi pulling away with a small pop.

He continued to jack him off, looking up at him as he did so.

“Perfect.... oh... so perfect for me...” he murmured as he came. 

Toshi’s cock throbbed at that praise. He lived for it. 

Fuck, it was just like he’d always imagined it.

Better, even.

Aizawa took a moment to recover from his orgasm, his eyelids closed peacefully. Toshi gently received a tissue, cleaning his lover off carefully.

"oh, you...you don't need to do that," Aizawa said breathily, sitting up. Toshi was silent as he proceeded. He didn't care about what he 'needed' to do for him. It was what he wanted to do for him.

Knowing this, Aizawa didn't protest. Instead, he kept this extra tiny favor in mind, piled up high along all the other countless acts of care that Toshi always left in his life. He was going to make it up to him, somehow.

And he just had an idea of how.

As Toshi gently laid next to Aizawa on the bed, running his hand over his clothed chest, Aizawa scooted off of the bed and positioned himself in between his boyfriend's legs.

"Your turn," he smirked, unbuckling his pants. Toshi blushed, looking away shyly.

Now, unlike Toshinori, this was far from Aizawa's first rodeo. He'd had a couple boyfriends, and he knew his way around a cock.

So he knew how to make him go absolutely wild. And he did.

He achingly teased Toshi's tip, rolling his tounge over it over and over, all while looking up at him cockily.

Toshi couldn't hold back his lewd sounds as much as he wanted to. He covered his mouth, trying to trap the whimpers eminating from his chest, but to no avail.

Aizawa was fully aware of the fact that Toshi was putty in his hands.

Just as he began to reach orgasm, Aizawa pulled away. He whined from the loss of stimulation. Luckily for him, Aizawa was far from finished with him. He rushed off to his side of the bed, grabbing a small bottle of lube that he'd often used for himself (and secretly hoped he'd be able to use on him), popping it open.

Toshi flinched as he felt Aizawa slathering the slick liquid onto his opening.

"is...is it gonna be...okay?" He asked, his voice pitched up a little from his usual tone.

"It'll be alright. I'll be gentle with you," Aizawa assured gently while tracing his finger around his rim.

This was yet another part of himself that Toshi never explored before. Frankly, he was always scared of it.

But being so gently eased into it by the person he loved most made things just a little less terrifying.

Aizawa gently pressed his index finger into his enterence, easing it in slowly while carefully gauging Toshinori's reactions.

What Toshi didn't know was how terrified Aizawa was of doing this, too. He'd be horrifically guilt ridden if he even slightly made his boyfriend uncomfortable, God forbid being in actual pain. He'd simply die then and there.

But, Toshi never saw that part of him. As far as he, or anyone else, knew, Aizawa was always as chill as ice in lemonade on a summer day.

Toshi was tense. He always was, but that tension simply wouldn't do for this.

"Relax," ordered Aizawa.

"Ah, sorry..."

"Don't be. I know you're nervous. You're doing great," he encouraged.

Toshinori’s heart fluttered at such gentle praise.

And just like that, Aizawa had a digit inside of him, gently pumping it in and out, caressing him from the inside out. 

After a small while, a second finger made its way inside.

And a third. 

By now, Toshi was trying his best not to come apart. He bashfully covered his mouth to stifle the embarrasing sounds, all while Aizawa longed for him to let it all out. 

However, that isn’t to say that Aizawa didn’t find his boyfriend’s shyness absolutely adorable. 

While he was doing his best to make his boyfriend into a little mess, he himself was absolutely falling apart at how hot this was. His cock was absolutely rock hard and neglected.  That wouldn’t be for too long, though. 

“Toshi, do you think you’re ready?” he rasped as he took his fingers out of him. 

“I...I’m scared,” he whimpered weakly. Aizawa quickly took him into his arms.

“If you don’t want to do this with me, please know that you do not have to. I want you to feel good,” he whispered gently. Toshinori was absolutely taken aback by his overwhelmingly gentle touch and caring tone of voice that his boyfriend rarely allowed anyone else to see. 

“I want to, it’s just...I mean, you know...” 

“I understand. Do you want to continue?” 

Toshi nodded, squeezing Aizawa’s arm.

Aizawa instructed Toshi on everything: how to lay properly to be most comfortable, how to breathe, and how to relax his muscles for easier entry. He gave him a pillow to rest his head on, and did everything humanly possible to ensure that he would be comfortable before beginning.

Finally, the time came. Aizawa throughly lubed himself up, positioning himself at Toshi’s enterence.

“Let me know if anything hurts, or if you want me to stop, okay?” he ordered, his palm resting on the small of his lover’s back. Toshi nodded. With that affirmation, he slowly began to ease himself inside. Toshi winced at the burning and ache that came with his first time, but he was okay. He sighed as Aizawa layed comforting kisses along his back and neck.

“You’re taking me so well,” the ravenette whimpered. He struggled to not completely let in on his urges: just to let go and fuck him like he’d always dreamed.

For now, he just...couldn’t.  Really, fantasies were one thing. But in real life, where someone could actually get hurt, it’s not as appealing. 

Aizawa would much rather have this slow, gentle penetration than the rough stuff he’d planned any day if it meant that Toshi would be more comfortable. 

And God, he was more than comfortable. 

Once Aizawa’s full length was inside of him, the tip of his cock hit the absolute perfect spot, sending waves of pleasure through his body, radiating to the tip of his own cock. 

“C-can you...mmph, could you start to move a little?” he whimpered.  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Aizawa asked one last time.

Toshi nodded. 

Aizawa never realized how...stressful this would really be. He knew what to do, and he’d definately been in this position more than once before, but he was paralyzed with the fear that he’d somehow break this fragile human being that he loved so dearly. 

But he also knew that if he did nothing, that’d break him as well, just in a different way. 

So, slowly and rhythmically, he began to hesitantly pump himself in and out. 

Toshi was instantly a mess. He did his very best to confine his moans and whimpers to a nearby pillow, but despite his efforts, Aizawa was well aware of how he was effecting him. 

Slowly, he picked up the pace, encouraged by those sounds of helpless pleasure. 

“Let me hear you, sunshine,” Aizawa groaned sweetly. Obidiently, his boyfriend abandoned the pillow, allowing his lover to hear all the sounds he was determined mere moments ago to hide. 

As a reward, Aizawa stroked Toshi’s neglected cock while still keeping up the pace he’d set. 

“Ahh! Sho...If...ugh...if you keep that up, I’m gonna...”

“I know, go ahead. Let me see it.”

He didn’t need his permission. Good thing, too, because with one final thrust, his already leaking cock throbbed as he released across the sheets.

Soon after, Aizawa did the same, all while inside his boyfriend. Toshinori reveled in the warmth that entered his belly from the inside out, and the gentle words of praise that surrounded him that poured so easily out of Aizawa’s lips.

He gently pulled out. Toshi sighed at the loss of him, but took this opportunity to relax into the bed and allow the soft sheets to cradle his tired body.

And he really was tired. Exhausted, even.

This was another reason Aizawa was so hesitant to do anything with Toshinori. He didn’t want to overexert him like this.

He was so tired, in fact, that he didn’t even notice when Aizawa left. He scarcely had a chance to before he returned with a bottle of water and a warm washcloth.

“Drink this while I clean you up, sunshine,” he instructed. Toshi nodded, his peacefully closed eyes fluttering open. He shuddered as the cloth made contact with his skin.

“I wasn’t too hard on you, right?” asked Aizawa softly.

“Of course not. I would’ve imagined harder from you, if I’m being entirely honest.”

“Is that so?” He teased, smacking his ass playfully with a small giggle.

“Maybe next time. Maybe. I don’t want to hurt you,” he added. His serious tone was back as he caressed the now pink handprint.

“I’ll be fine, Sho. You know I’ve been through worse.”

“I’m aware. I just don’t want you to have to compare what you’ve been through to what I’m going to put you through.”

Toshi laughed.

“You must be kinkier than I thought, if that’s the case.”

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction - BONUS MOMENTS

PSA: To all new readers, you don't have to read the series (link below) to understand this, however it would help so that you can understand the preconceived emotions behind the chapter!

The Proposal | la proposta

warnings; none word count; 1703 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. link to fic masterlist here

13th July 2024, Germany

Amelia and Ben had found themselves experiencing a slight bit of deja vu. The night before the final match of the UEFA European Championship, Amelia was sat in her hotel suite, finalising her preparations for the following evening. A rematch between the Three Lions and The Azzurri. Who would have thought that three years after the last final, the same two teams (give or take a few players) would be in the exact same position.

The difference this time, Amelia had more to think about than just her brother’s feelings. Her relationship with Ben had grown throughout the 3 years that they had been officially together. Countless family holidays shared together, and with each other's respective families had since become a thing of the past as they had successfully managed to merge both the White’s and the Chilwell’s together to create one big happy family. Ben had asked Amelia to move in with him only a year into their relationship, and although outsiders might think it was fast the couple could only disagree with them. They took each stage of their relationship as it came and when it came, just the two of them how it should be.

6 months after moving in together they had adopted a dog together from the local animal rescue centre, a black Labrador called Maverick who was bi-lingual and responded to both English and Italian, much to Ben’s dismay. Amelia began teaching both of her boys (Mav & Benj) simple words in the language of love  and Ben had a harder time retaining it than the pup. Nevertheless, he loved hearing Amelia’s voice when she spoke to him in Italian and it was something he hoped he could hear every day for the rest of his life.

Amelia had continued her role at Chelsea FC as a tactical analyst for the first team, and Chelsea had honored their promise to the girl to allow her to work in depth with the academy talent which is something she found very rewarding and the part she loved most about her job. Of course she loved being around her friends and helping them achieve their dreams but there was something about fostering youth talent that made Amelia really proud to be in the position that she was, to help these young kids from all walks of life make it in the big scary world of professional football. The smile on their faces when they get a call up to an older division, the tears shed by their parents as they wave them off to go and live with their host family nearby Cobham facility, the same eyes that leak a whole different set of tears as they sign their first professional contract with the club - it makes it all worth it.

Something that was eerily similar to the last time Amelia was sat in her hotel room the night before the European Championship Final is that she was, once again, the tactical analyst for the Italian National Team. This time, however, there was no knock on her door with Federico Bernardeschi on the other side waiting to bring her to the English National Team’s base so she could have it out with her brother and Kyle Walker. Thankfully, her relationships with all of the England team had remained intact but that was largely due to another no-contact ban being enforced between her and the Three Lions. This meant that she hadn’t had a chance to talk to any of her friends, let alone her boyfriend Ben, in three weeks. It was painful for both parties, but necessary to ensure that there was no untowards activity or information being shared.

When Amelia was first offered the job she had sat on it for days before making a decision to rejoin the national team. Ben had actually been the one to push her to accept it, it was only something that would make her life better and he didn’t want her to miss out on any opportunity that came her way - even if it meant that the two of them had to be apart both physically and digitally for 3 weeks. That was the thing that held Amelia back from accepting the position on the spot, she would miss the person that became her right hand man. But Ben’s encouragement made the last few weeks easier, and also made Amelia realise just how ready she was to give herself to him...officially.

Marriage had been something that they had both discussed prior as a natural conversation between two people in a relationship that they could see was obviously heading in that direction already, so it was something that was always in Amelia’s mind. She had found herself at florists buying flowers for their dining room table and absent-mindedly thinking about the perfect wedding flowers for her bridal bouquet. However much to Amelia’s dismay, Ben was yet to ask her the most important question of her life and these three weeks apart have made her more desperate than ever to become Mrs Chilwell.

14th July 2024, Signal Iduna Park, Dortmund Germany

A torturous 90-minute match of football later and the Azzurri had done it, back-to-back UEFA European Champions. The only goal of the match coming from her midfield-maestro Jorgi, which was the direct result of a misplay from Declan Rice meaning the ball fell at the feet of Jorginho as he was directly in front of the goal, Jordan Pickford was no match for the beautifully crafted strike which isn’t anything towards Pickford, no keeper was stopping that ball from going in - it was just that good.

This time however, she was the one being consoled by her brother. The pressure of the situation getting on top of her, 3 weeks of no contact with Ben & seeing him for the first time out on this pitch but not being able to kiss him was getting to her, the knowledge that she was again partly to blame for their heartache. Her brother had seen the look in Amelia’s eyes when the whistle blew and the entire bench of the Italian team ran onto the pitch to congratulate the players, she had remained behind. Wrapping his arms around his little sister as she sobbed into his jersey because she was too empathetic for her own good was not how he predicted the outcome of the evening at all, but he was glad he was there for her. Pulling away from her, he tidied up her face and sent her on her way out to the pitch to wrap her Italian friends up in the hugs that they so well deserved, fully aware of the events to follow the wrap up awards ceremony that same night.

______________________________________________________________

I found myself standing in the centre circle at the Borussia Dortmund home ground, with an Italian flag wrapped around my shoulders and confetti all over the floor at my feet. Looking around at the fans who had stayed behind so they could meet their idols, I could not believe my luck in this world.

“I hope you’re not considering a job out here in Dortmund, Mils? I possibly couldn’t be away from you any longer” Ben spoke from behind me, pulling me out of my trance. I whipped my body around at lightning speed and launched myself at my boyfriend, my soul mate.

“Ben” I whispered into his ear as he lifted me from the ground, feet dangling at his mid shin and my arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly as if to convey all of the hugs we had missed out over the last few weeks apart.

“Mils, I’ve missed you so much.” He said back to me, expressing the exact same sentiments as I possessed. He put me back on the floor and began to push me away from him, in my desperate attempt at a longer hug I wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled myself back in.

“No Mils, I need to see your face as I do this.” He laughed, pushing me off him again and taking a step back from me.

“Benj, what are you doing?” I questioned him, not really believing my own thoughts as to what was about to happen.

“Amelia, my brilliant Amelia. The past three weeks have done nothing but made me realise I never want to spend a day without you again. There are many ways to be happy in life, but all I need is you.  You are my sunshine, you make me unbelievably happy, you make my good days great and my hard day's worth it just to see your smile in our kitchen at the end of it. Your brain is the most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I hope our future daughter turns out exactly like you so that I have another you to love.”

Ben had descended to one knee as I stood before him, both hands raised to my face to cover my shocked by bright smile and both eyes stuck directly on his own. I hadn’t noticed the crowd of our closest people begin to gather around us to watch the show.

“So in front of God…” Ben nodded his head slightly, I turned my head to see he was referring to Paolo Maldini and shook my head with a little giggle which was copied by everyone else around us.

“...our family and closest friends I want to ask you the question that I know you’ve been patiently waiting for - will you marry me?” Ben pulled out the most perfect ring from a box that I hadn’t even noticed in his hands.

Dropping myself so that I was crouched and on both knees in front of him, I grabbed his face with both of my own hands and pressed the firmest kiss to his lips. My tears ran down my face and probably all over his, he kissed me back. They say a picture says a thousand words, and while I hoped that at least one of our friends had managed to snap a few of this moment, my kiss said only one word...Yes.

[ahsokasleftbicep]

Name and Soul: Chapter 3

AH! Here we go! Enjoy!

@mqgriett @darkangel4121 @thelambandthewolffe @maulscrosshair @trash-dino-5000

Crosshair x F! reader

Word Count: 2091

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 3, Wrecker being best uncle, Sad Crosshair stuff, internal conflict, Tarkin being awful

“That doesn’t look very comfortable, kid.” You crouch down to Omega, who set herself up against Gonky and a wall.

“It’s okay, we’re fine.” The girl smiles up at you before looking back to her datapad.

You sit down next to her, patting the droid behind her. “How’s that diary coming along?”

Omega smiles and reaches next to her, opening the diary excitedly. “Really well! I can’t wait till we get him back. Do you think I could be as good of a shot as he is?”

“Oh I know you can,” You lean down to her ear, “And don’t ever tell him this, but I think you could be better.”

“No way, you’re lying.” Omega smiles and pushes your arm, laughing.

“Omega, I swear on my life, that I would never lie to you. You have talent and you're smart. You have a lot of opportunities out there.”

“Y/n! Can you give me a hand over here!” Echo pokes his head out from the cockpit.

“Yeah, one sec.” You rest your hand on the girl's shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

“Y/n!”

“Alright alright, I’m coming!” You roll your eyes as you walk over to the man.

“The ship got hit hard when we left Saleucami. Everything has been glitching ever since. Things would go faster if I had some help.” Echo glares at Tech, who’s fiddling with… something.

“As soon as I finish this scanner.”

You lean on Tech’s chair. “But if the ship crashes, you won’t have the tools to finish your project.”

The man raises his eyebrow and glances at you. “If the scanner isn’t finished, we might have a repeat of Kamino’s events.” The three of you go silent before Tech changes the subject. “Besides, the ship's diagnostic report indicated no critical systems were compromised.”

The ship rumbles and you and Echo are thrown to the floor. When you look up again, you no longer see the blue of hyperspace.

“What were you saying about the ship being fine again?” Tech glares at you before grabbing the controls. The ship rumbles, nearly knocking you down again. “We’re crashing.”

You strap yourself in across from Wrecker and Omega. The internal lights start flashing red.

“We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!” Wrecker grips his seat.

“Wrecker!” The man looks at you, following your eyes to Omega, who looks terrified. She frantically looks between the two of you.

“We’re gonna… be fine. We’re gonna be fine.”

--

“Is it over?” Omega looks at you, still shaken up.

You walk to her and squeeze her hand, “Yep, it’s all over. Are you okay?”

The girl nods hesitantly, “Y-yeah, I think.”

“... we have one spare capacitor onboard.” Tech states to the rest of you.

Omega walks over to a shelf and pulls out a box. Something you recognize.

“Omega…”

“Is it in here?” The girl looks at you all, stopping on your mute expression. “What?”

You straighten up, “That’s Crosshair’s weapons kit.”

Wrecker groans, “I’ll say it. I kinda miss him.”

Tech begins to describe what the inhibitor chip can do, but Hunter cuts in. You furrow your brows at his actions.

“Look, debating this won’t fix the ship.” Hunter glances at you before continuing. “We need to get off this rock.”

--

“Is it possible to implant a chip into a natural born?” Tarkin stares at the clone through the glass.

“It is.” Nala Se speaks quietly. “Why do you ask?”

“Private L/n is a very skilled soldier, those skills would be useful. Once she is caught, I need her unwavering loyalty.”

“Governor Tarkin.” Rampart walks into the room. “I have the report on Private L/n.”

“Very good, what did you find?” Tarkin turns his attention to the man for a split second.

“She’s as skilled as any clone, if not more. She graduated top of her class as a marksman at the Academy of Carida. If I may, L/n’s skills would be incredibly useful for Project War Mantle.”

“My thoughts exactly, Rampart.”

--

You stuck your hand out from the floor of the ship, Omega handed you a tool, curiously looking down at you.

“Where did you learn all this stuff?”

“Oh way before the war, this isn’t my first.”

“It’s not? Where were you before?”

You take off Tech’s spare goggles and sigh, “I think that’s a story for another time.”

Wrecker walks by, rubbing his head. “Ow! Ow”

You stand up and tap Wrecker’s leg. “What’s up with you?”

Wrecker winced again, “I must’ve hit my head in the crash. Ow.”

You hop up, setting down your tools. “I have an ice pack, that’ll help.”

“Thanks, Y/n.” Wrecker follows you back, “Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“My head doesn’t hurt that bad. But I wanted to ask you something.”

You turn around, confused. “Go ahead.”

“Well, you know how Omega has no room, like one of her own? What if we made her one? Make it a surprise.”

You smile widely, “I think that’s a great idea, Wrecker. We need to distract Omega though.”

“Guys, you need to come see this!” Hunter calls out.

As you walk out, you see a large shadow cross the window. “Woah! What the heck was that?”

Omega looks at you wide-eyed, “Some creature with a huge tail!”

Tech clears his throat, “Most likely an Ordo Moon Dragon, it took the part.”

A moment and some banter later, Hunter and Omega are getting ready to go after the creature. You look at Hunter, “Be careful.”

“Will do.”

You then look at Omega, “And you stay close to Hunter.”

“I promise! Cross my heart!” The girl responds happily.

You chuckle and wave as the two walkout. You glance at Echo and Tech arguing in the cockpit. You roll your eyes and walk to Wrecker. “Okay, let's get started! With Hunter’s senses, we don’t have a lot of time.”

--

Crosshair stands at the door, “Sir, you called me again.”

“Yes, you will have to abandon your search for Clone Force 99 for a moment. Onderonian insurgents have been found again, I will introduce you to your new squad. Find the insurgents and eliminate them. After you complete this, then you can continue your original task.”

“Yes sir, find Private L/n, terminate Clone Force 99.” The man walked out and back to his barracks. He sits on his bunk, grabbing the same necklace that he’s looked at more than a dozen times before.

Why do I care? I don’t know this woman. I love her… Wait, no. She’s a traitor. Don’t hurt her.

Crosshair lifts the ring into the light. He falls back onto his bed, clipping the necklace around his neck, completely unaware of what he did. I miss her. She betrayed the Empire. I miss my brothers. They left me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.

--

“What’s this?” Wrecker picks up the diary from the floor. You look back from the blankets you tie up to the top of the ceiling.

“Omega is writing all the stuff that happens in there. She said it’s for when we get Crosshair back.” You turn back, looking out the window of the gunner room.

“You don’t believe her?” Wrecker places the diary on the gunner chair.

“I do. But every day we leave him there makes it feel like it’s impossible. And no one acknowledges what happened. Not even Hunter…”

Wrecker places his hand on your shoulder, “I know, but Hunter misses him. You know how he is, he can hide that stuff easy.”

“I know, but I wish he would talk about it.”

--

This man was pissing Crosshair off. He’s arrogant. And chatty.

“Hey clone, what’s that around your neck?”

“None of your business.” Crosshair glares at the blonde man.

He smirks, “A little lady, maybe?” He scoffs, “Why would someone go with a clone.”

The group steps out of the ship, sneaking through the woods. Crosshair straightens his back.

“Move out.”

--

“Wrecker, I think we need one more blanket, just to be safe. And do we have any lights?” You jump down from the room, waiting for Wrecker.

“We have lights.” The man lifts a string of them up. “I’ll get 'em.”

“I’ll go get another blanket.” You walk to your room, glancing at the bunk. Crosshairs blanket is folded at the end, just like you left it that morning. You pick it up and hold it to your face. You smell him. It’s comforting, warm, and very uniquely Crosshair.

“Here we go, one blanket.” You place the blanket with the others. “It looks great so far.”

--

“Where’s Gerrera?”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t tell you anyway.” The insurgent sneers at the helmeted man.

Crosshair tilts his head, “I believe you.” He lifts his blaster. NO! He pulls the trigger and the woman falls to the ground.

He lifts his weapon to the civilians. STOP!

“What are you doing? Gerrera’s fighters are dead. We should bring civilians in.” The blonde man steps forward.

“Those weren’t our orders.”

“Forget it, this is wrong.”

Crosshair walked up to the man, stopping toe to toe.

“You want to know why they put me in charge?”, stop it… please. “It’s because I’m willing to do what needs to be done.” He pulls out his blaster and pulls the trigger. The man drops. No, no, NO! Good soldiers follow orders. “Finish the mission.”

--

You are finishing up the room when Wrecker comes up. He’s holding something. Lula?

“What’s Lula doing here?” You look at the large soldier, who rubs the back of his neck shyly.

“I thought that Omega would like it, something to hold onto.”

“I think that’s great, Wrecker. She’ll love it.” You hold the doll and place it on the bed… next to her diary.

--

Crosshair looks at what’s left of his “squad”.

“If any of you tell higher-ups about this,” He pulls the necklace from under his armor. “I will kill you all.”

The soldiers tense up and all nod at the same time.

“... good.” I- I killed them. Innocent people. The ship lands, he goes through another lengthy debrief, he goes back to his barracks. Ignoring the others, he sits on his bunk, completely silent. Images flash through his head… of you. This woman. Y/N! Your smile, your hair, everything about you. He looks at the ring around his neck. He was right. Why would she be with me… who could love me?

--

“Tech! Can we please leave?”

“Gladly.” The man flips a few switches and the ship starts moving.

“Y/n!” Omega runs up to you.

“Omega! I heard you completed the mission? How’d it feel?”

“Well, I was really scared at first, but then I was able to get the part by tricking the creature!” The girl smiles up at you.

“I knew you’d be fine! And you saved Hunter.” You put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Omega.”

The girl hugs you, “Thank you, y/n.”

Wrecker walks up behind you, “Hey kid. Come with me.”

Omega raises her eyebrow, looking at Wrecker, then you.

You and the man chuckled, “Just cover your eyes.”

Wrecker guides Omega to the back of the ship, you following behind. He stops in front of the gunner room.

“Okay, open ‘em.”

Omega gasps at the view, looking from the room to Wrecker, back to the room, then you.

You walk up with a smile. “Well, what do you think?”

“I- I love it. You guys did this?”

“Yep! Y/n picked out the lights. We put it together when you guys left.”

“It was Wrecker’s idea. A great one at that.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Omega jumps up and down before climbing up the ladder, sitting on the blankets. “I never had my own room before.” She picks up Lula, then sets the diary on her lap.

“You’re a part of this squad now too. You deserve your own room.”

--

You are lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling. The door swooshes open, revealing Omega, holding the diary loosely in her hand.

“Omega, it’s late. Why are you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She walks across the floor and crawls up onto your bed. “Can you tell me a story? Please?”

You look at the girl and nod. Omega scoots into your side and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Hmmm, how about another mission story?”

The girl nods, paying attention.

“So, we met with a Jedi, Anakin Skywalker…”

Hunter walks to your room the next morning, finding you asleep against your headboard, Omega asleep, snuggled into your side.

[yetanotherpotterpage]

the idea of loving you | 4

Being in love is never easy. Especially with a certain blonde-haired Slytherin around.. /4th year, Voldemort not coming back/

pairing: Draco x Ravenclaw reader

word count: 2300

warnings: bad language, smut (kinda)

a/n: Uni is kicking my butt, but I finally finished chapter 4. Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, I love you all <3

There was an awkward tension lingering between Cho and you as you were walking back to your dorm from the party. She was walking a bit ahead of you, so you didn't get to see the face she was making. You were scared. This was the worst possible outcome of the night. You wanted to talk it out with her, but you were too nervous to start speaking. You've already been through so much together the last few years, from small arguments because of your untidiness to full-on fights because her first boyfriend called you a bitch, and she did nothing. But still, you've solved everything. You've suddenly stopped walking when you realized that running from this was only making it worse. It was now only her footsteps that echoed on the empty stairs. When she noticed you stopped, she turned around to look at you. She didn't seem angry or mad. She seemed just as confused and scared as you did, and seeing that gave you the strength to talk.

"Cho... How are you feeling?" you asked sheepishly, fingers fidgeting with the rings you were wearing.

She took a long pause before answering. You felt your heart racing more and more with each passing second. "If it's about the kiss, it's all good y/n. You did what you had to do."

It was almost midnight. You figured your other roommate was already asleep, so you sat down on the top of the spiral staircase of the Ravenclaw tower. Cho immediately joined you .

"You know, I've always imagined my first kiss to be with Cedric," you started, eyes fixated on the cracks of the stairs. " I thought it's going to be in our garden on a summer afternoon with the blue sky above us while the sun warmed our skins. That we'd just lay there on the grass, and he'd finally steal a kiss. You have no idea how much I wanted this. I gave him so many opportunities, but he never took them. It hurt so bad, I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't wished to feel nothing at all. I thought that I'm never going to get over him. But when we kissed it wasn't like I imagined it to be. It was disappointing, really. It's not that the kiss itself was bad, I-I guess I'm just changing." you said, finally looking up, to see her reaction. 

She looked at you, her tender eyes full of sympathy. "Telling me all this... I knew you're not a chicken," she chuckled softly, but her face turned serious as she continued. "I always wondered how much it hurts you that Cedric and me... you know, are dating. I was always so scared that you're going to break, even if you said it was okay. I live in constant guilt y/n." she said, trying to blink her tears away.

"I'm full of self-love, you've got to try harder if you want to break a person like me," you laughed, which made her smile. 

You've talked for a little while, before deciding it was better to get going. That night you slept together in your bed. She fell asleep quickly but your thoughts kept you up. It was dark, the only source of illumination was the moonlight from your tall windows. You stared at the ceiling as you listened to her breathing. Life really was unfair, you thought.

The next day was chaotic. No one cared about the classes, since everyone was thrilled about the upcoming ball that day. Even the teachers looked excited, and most of them gave you permission to read quietly or study for other classes. Not Snape though, he seemed like he was over this whole ball thing, so you brew potions. You didn't mind it, it was something you were good at. There was just one little thing that annoyed you, and it was a blue pair of eyes that burned a hole in the back of your head. You turned around in annoyance, not wanting to put up with this anymore. But your angry eyes were met with a playful wink from his end. You rolled your eyes and turned back in your seat, trying to concentrate on your potion when you heard him call your name.

"Psst, y/l/n." 

You let out an audible sigh, then turned to him. "What?" 

"Hope you're looking good for me tonight darling, I wouldn't want to hang out with Pansy all night," he said with a grin. 

Your blood was boiling at that point. Who does he think he is? Leaving you like that in the Three Broomsticks and making you feel like you're easily replaced as he's openly flirting with everyone in front of you, was not it. You're not even going to mention the fact that you were just a tool for him to get under Harry's skin. You seriously needed to do something about his cockiness. You needed to take the lead. And you needed to do it tonight.

Classes were finally over, so you ran to your dorm to meet up with your friends. You all decided that you're all going to get ready together. You were sitting on a chair, trying to put on your necklace as Marietta did your makeup. Or, at least she tried.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, y/n. Stop moving!" She said in a slightly annoyed tone. It was the fourth time she said that in the last 2 minutes. 

"Sorry," you said. You realized you were very bad at sitting in one place for a longer period of time. You also realized that it hurts a lot when someone pokes your eyeball with a mascara wand. 

After an hour of dolling you up, you were done, and you felt beautiful. Marietta did amazing on your makeup. It wasn't much, but it really enhanced your features, making you look the prettiest you've looked in a while. You did your own hair, and while you weren't the best at it, you've managed to do something presentable. Or so you thought before Cho offered to do it for you because she thought it was only half-done. You took her offer without hesitation.

"Merlin, look at us, we look so good," Cho said in awe after you were all done.

"Yeah, and look at our titties, we are full-grown women now," Marietta said while giving her boobs a squeeze. You agreed, looking at your own pair of boobs. All of you showed a little cleavage, except for Cho. She was a little more conservative in this field.

"Girls! You are intellectual women, and intellectual women don't talk about their tits," Cho laughed.

"Well, I guess we are intellectual women, who also love their tits," you compromised while trying to fix the strap of your dress.

When you went down to find Draco, you saw him already waiting for you. And Merlin, he looked immoral, with his perfectly styled hair and expensive tuxedo. When his eyes met yours you felt your cheeks heat up. No, you can't do this right now, you had to concentrate, you thought. But it was hard with him looking like that. 

When you got closer to him, he let out a low whistle as he looked you up and down, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking you out. "You clean up well, y/l/n," he said, before taking your hand and kissing the back of it. Merlin, he made you so nervous, but you needed to loosen up for this to work. Tonight, you make him pay. 

Entering the great hall, your jaw dropped. It had never looked better. Everything was white and silver, and it looked so elegant. There were a few circular tables on either side of the room, and each table had its own ice sculpture in the middle. The first two tables from the door served drinks and food, and at the very back of the room stood 3 snow-covered Christmas trees. It was beautiful, you thought. 

The waltz went pretty well. Draco was a surprisingly good dancer, but the real fun started after the formalities. Luna told you, that some people mixed some Firewhiskey into the punch bowl. Some people being Fred and George. After hearing this, you quickly hopped to the table to pour yourself some. You've danced a lot that night, although you weren't sure if what you were doing could've been classified as dancing. You were mostly just jumping up and down and swinging your hip to the rhythm of the music. But the more punch you drank, you better you got at it. You were in the middle of slow dancing with Luna to a slower song when a hand grabbed your waist from behind. As you turned around you were met with none other than Draco himself. You kind of lost him after the waltz, since you went dancing with your friends, and he went off with his. 

"Where were you?" you asked him as he put one of his hands on your lower back and pulled you close to him, while the other reached for your hand. You were dancing with him now.

"With Pansy," he said simply, as he spun you around. " It got boring too quickly though." His voice was low, and you were suddenly aware of the close proximity between you two. 

"So you came back, to me," you drawled. "How noble." His hand on your back was dangerously low now.

He licked his lips "Don't worry, we didn't do anything bad. I'm all yours tonight." His voice hardly rose over a whisper. You wouldn't have survived this conversation if not for the alcohol in you. 

"Oh is that true?" you teased. Your faces were so close, that one small push could easily end in your lips pressed together.

"Want me to show you?" he breathed, eyes never leaving yours.

"Oh, I don't know, I might need a bit more motivation," you said with a smirk. Everything happened quickly. He gave you a grin, then guided your hands to the back of his neck before he raised your chin with his fingers, there was a pause, while he looked you in the eye with a serious expression before he kissed you. Your body reacted instinctively, and you opened your mouth a little, letting him deepen the kiss. It wasn't an innocent, sweet one. No, it was heated, and full of passion. Merlin, you hated how good it felt. He let out a groan as you bit his lower lip and you felt like the world was spinning around you.

"Was this motivating enough?" he whispered into your ear as he ended the kiss.

You bit your lips in hesitation. What you were about to do was very stupid and reckless, but this was your chance. He's made a fool of you several times before, but not today. This time it was you that wanted to leave him wrecked. "Let's get out of here," you purred.

So there you were, in an empty, half-lit corridor that echoed of your panting. This whole situation was so sinful. Red, swollen lips and hungry eyes were the only things you saw. You curled your fingers in the hair at his nape and jerked your hips against his, which resulted in a low groan from him. His eyes greedy as he snaked an arm around your waist, resting it on the curve of your ass, to urge you closer. You didn't waste a second, as you rolled your hips against his, feeling his hardening length as you sucked bruises on his delicate skin. He threw his head back to the wall in pleasure, as he let out a groan before he started fidgeting with the zipper on your dress.

You chuckled lowly as you snapped his hand away, "Eager much?" you cooed.

"You're such a fucking tease," he smirked with heavy eyelids.

"I'm not this easy, you might need to persuade me a little more," you purred. You'd definitely be embarrassed at your behavior, but the combination of alcohol and seeing the Slytherin Prince a desperate mess under your hands made you shameless. When you were with Cedric, you felt like a girl, and you liked that feeling. But with Draco, you felt like a woman. You felt dangerous and desired and it drove you crazy.

Your lips parted as he brushed his thumb against your lower lip before his fingers followed a trail under your jaw, hooking a finger under your necklace to pull you closer to him. "Is this how you want to play, y/l/n?" lips brushing against yours as he spoke before he snapped his hips forward. He was so hot, you wanted nothing more than to finish what you've started. And you were sure, you will at some point, but this wasn't that night. He looked at you, with confusion in his eyes as you took a step back and cleared your throat. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, in disbelief.

"Oh, I forgot I promised Harry a dance, and we certainly wouldn't want to make him wait now, do we?" you breathed, with a sly smile on your lips, before turning around to go back to the great hall.

He stood there in complete shock. He couldn't believe that this really just happened. You played him and left him with blue balls. He let out a laugh in disbelief when you had the audacity to turn around and send him a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

"Two can play at that game y/l/n," he said before he fixed himself, and headed back to the ball to find Pansy.

taglist: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @streetfighterrichie

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

i could never be fucked to finish this one by giving it a proper intro also it’s about barfok and half of the dialogue is in dovahzul and no i’m not providing translations. in which kagrenac and barfok have a “conversation”

Bthamzel falls with a single note.

Kagrenac is not a warrior, and yet she had studied the phenomenon set before her extensively-- and so, when she heard of the siege of Bthamzel, she was well-prepared to take advantage of the singular opportunity she had been afforded. Though she is not a warrior, and has never seen battle, she arranges an expedition: she hires an emissary, a Dwemer who speaks the coarse tongue of Aldmeris, she gathers up her tools, and she sets off to greet the Nordic Warlord who’s been singing Veloth into ruin. 

[...]

She is not how Kagrenac expected her to be. First of all, Kagrenac, for some reason, expected her to be beautiful, but this isn't the case. The woman who comes to Kagrenac that day is homely, though by no means plain: she's thick of limb, ruddy-skinned, with pale grey eyes set wide in her face, and large, uneven teeth exposed unabashedly by her cheerful grin. Her dull yellow hair is pulled away from her face in a low, loose knot, unbraided; her clothing is plain to Kagrenac's eyes, but she must suppose that the white bearskin cape and engraved leather jerkin beneath it are considered elaborate, to the northmen's simple tastes. She is unaccompanied by any guard, Kagrenac sees at once-- she's entered the stronghold alone. 

She's barefooted, too, Kagrenac notices. Her toes are black with ash and leave prints on the smooth stronghold floor. 

She doesn't seem to notice Kagrenac at first; she's busy looking around herself, taking in the stronghold with her wide grey eyes and her toothy grin, pink tongue peeking out from between her uneven teeth. It's only when the emissary says something in the uncouth tongue of Aldmeris that she jerks her gaze to Kagrenac, and Kagrenac watches her thin eyebrows twitch upwards. 

Kagrenac speaks no Aldmeris, but she's already instructed the emissary on what to say: the usual titles, accolades, praises, the primitive words needed to make a Nord understand what an honour this meeting is. In truth, it's a little embarrassing that such an introduction is necessary, but Kagrenac's willing to take no risks, and the last thing she'd wanted was to make their guest feel insulted; however, as the emissary prattles on, she begins to feel more and more like she's wasted his breath. The Tongue is still looking around the stronghold, her toothy mouth hanging open and her silver eyes wide with curiosity. Kagrenac's eyes dart down to her bare feet again. Her grubby toes are curling into the shiny floor. 

The emissary finishes off his spiel with a question, and though the language is foreign to her, Kagrenac knows what he's asked. She knows, too, what it means when the Tongue looks to him, her slack mouth widening into a broad grin. 

"Barfok!" proclaims the Tongue, slapping her chest hard with the flat of her hand. 

Barfok. 

The emissary begins to prattle something else, and Kagrenac digs her nails into the hands which are clasped right behind her back. This is the part, she supposes, where Barfok will deliver her own titles. She supposes that Tongues will have titles, lofty and numerous titles. But Barfok seems content to be simply Barfok; she stands with her arms crossed, seemingly not listening to the emissary at all. Her gaze, still curious, now rests squarely on Kagrenac’s face, and Kagrenac cannot resist the challenge of staring into those pale silvery eyes. Barfok has brownish eyelashes, thin ones, and Kagrenac wonders whether the ashfall gets in her eyes.

“I’ve asked her where she’s from,” the emissary explains to Kagrenac, switching back to smooth Dwemeris. He says something else, in Aldmeris, to Barfok. 

Barfok glances at him, and replies in the same tongue. But then-- quite unexpectedly-- she ends her sentence with three familiar tones, “Laa laa laa,” sung out with a cheerful smile. 

“She says she is the ‘Jarl’ of ‘Narsis-hold’,” begins the emissary in Dwemeris, “She--” 

“Leave us,” orders Kagrenac. 

The emissary is startled, but when Kagrenac speaks, the Dwemer obey; he bows and departs, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway. 

Barfok stares at Kagrenac with her unsettling grin. Kagrenac gestures at her to follow, and escorts her to her study.

Kagrenac’s study in Sturdumz is a simple, temporary thing, but Barfok appears delighted nonetheless: the moment they enter it, she gasps and rushes forwards, running around the room and taking in everything with the wonder of a child. She says something in Aldmeris, excitedly, but Kagrenac, not knowing the language, pays her no attention; while Barfok runs about the study with an unabashed wonder that’s frankly perplexing to behold, Kagrenac pretends not to behold, and wanders to a nearby shelf. 

“Daar los?” The question catches Kagrenac’s ear, because that is certainly not Aldmeris she’s just spoken. When she turns around, Barfok is holding two tuning-forks, staring at Kagrenac with her unsettling grin. 

“Tuning-forks,” Kagrenac replies in Dwemeris. She walks over and gently takes them from Barfok’s grasp.

“Kagger-Shond,” Barfok repeats the Dwemeris word clumsily. She meets Kagrenac’s eyes, then, and, with an enthusiastic smile, points to Kagrenac’s chest. “Ahrk wo hin?” 

Kagrenac does not understand this question, so she remains quiet. 

A brief flicker of displeasure crosses Barfok’s expression, but then her eyes widen and she nods, her lips curling back into their perpetual smile. She takes a step back, extends one of her hands, and, with great gusto, smacks her sternum, creating a resounding thwack against the leather. “Zu’u los Barfok!” she says loudly. Then she points her finger at Kagrenac’s chest. “Wo los hin?”

“Kagrenac,” says Kagrenac slowly. 

“Kagrenac!” Barfok repeats after her, clearly pleased. Then she reaches up and tugs at one of her own blunt ears with one hand, and with the other thwacks her chest again. “Zu’u los bron. Koraav? Bron.” Then, quite rudely, she reaches out and pats Kagrenac on the chest. “Hi los Ogiim.” 

Kagrenac manages to refrain from reacting-- she might have been offended, had this not all posed a tempting little puzzle. She nods, slowly, and points up to one of her own pointed ears. “I am a Dwemer,” she says. “I am an… Ogiim.” 

“Hi los ogiim!” Barfok agreed enthusiastically. She points to herself again. “Ahrk zu’u los?” 

Even in a foreign tongue, it’s a good question: what is this strange creature, this force of nature prancing around Kagrenac’s study? 

“A roaring snow-throated King of Mora.” Kagrenac answers. She uses the poetic term for a Tongue, knowing that the foreigner would never be able to pronounce the Dwemeris.

Not that it deters her. “Kemmel Mule Shond…” Barfok begins, and then a broad grin splits her face once more. “Aka! Geh, Aka! Zu’u Aka? Aka los?” 

Kagrenac frowns, and, at a loss for other words, raises both hands and mimes a crown over her own head. 

This makes Barfok laugh, a loud indecorous laugh that causes her shoulders to shake and her eyes to crinkle. “Jun!” she says giddily, “Hi mindok aka los jun? Fah mu, Aka los dovah. Aka los bormah-se-alduin!” 

Seeing that Kagrenac is evidently lost, Barfok extends both arms in a pantomime of two wings flapping. “Aka! Dovah! Haha, mu los dovahhe, ahrk zu’u los zok dovah! Yol!’

She sings the last word, and a small lick of flame erupts from her thin lips at the sound of it. 

This time, Kagrenac cannot help but shudder and step back. The words are gibberish to her,  but she recognizes the tone of the word Barfok just sang, and its meaning is clear enough: fire. Before this the Tongue has seemed unrefined, foolish; now Kagrenac is reminded that Bthamzel, and all the people within it, has been vanished into thin air. 

Kagrenac closes her eyes as she steels herself, and when she opens them again she finds Barfok staring at her, frowning now. Kagrenac takes a deep breath-- looks to the shelf-- when she looks again, Barfok has not moved, and is still staring at her with her head cocked to the side. Waiting for Kagrenac to resume their game, no doubt. 

Kagrenac’s study contains many interesting objects, curios brought to her by aspiring acolytes hoping to earn her easily-lost attention. Kagrenac walks a slow circle around it, making a show of examining her collection, and all the while she feels Barfok’s gaze boring into her back.

She finally stops, selecting a glass eye from a shelf. This, said the apprentice who gifted it to her, was the eye of an Ayleid mage, pried from his resurrected corpse, bearing strange magic. Kagrenac holds the glinting blue object aloft and asks, in soft, careful words: “Daar los?” 

Barfok laughs aloud in delight. “Miin!” she replies. She points to both of her pale grey eyes, then, pulling down her lids to create a frightening expression. “Miinne. Dii miinne.” 

“Your miinne,” Kagrenac says to herself unthinkingly. 

“Thu’um?” asks Barfok, surprised. 

“Thua miinne,” Kagrenac corrects her. She points to her own eyes, and says, in slow, clear, Dwemeris: “Duum minne.” 

“Miiniil,” Barfok adds with a laugh, pointing to the glass eye in her hand.

Kagrenac places the eye down, and then takes from the shelf a small statuette, depicting a wolf. Plundered from the tomb of a Nordic king, if its original owner’s boasting was anything to go by. “Daar los?” she asks again.

“Grohiik,” replies Barfok. She uses her hands to mime a wolf’s jaws snapping open and shut. “Grohiik… du… hin!” At the last words she shoves her hands forwards, as if the wolf in her creation were devouring Kagrenac. Kagrenac does not flinch.

“Daar los?” This time Kagrenac picks up a single white bone. 

“Qeth,” Barfok says. 

Kagrenac takes a small Dwemeri device from the shelf. “Daar los?” she asked, with the ghost of a smile. 

“Vomindok--” Barfok begins, but then Kagrenac turns the key of the music-box. A cascade of airy notes tumbles out, light tinkling music running up and down a minor scale. 

There’s an expression on Barfok’s face that Kagrenac recognizes, only in theory, as religious rapture: this is no longer a game, and the Tongue’s expression is thoughtful, mesmerised, her eyes resting only on the music-box in Kagrenac’s hand. 

The tune ends after a moment. “Daar los…” Barfok begins softly. “Daar brii! Ah, tinvaak-- Daar lovaas.” She pauses. “Nid, nid-- lovaas los-- Lovaas los lovaas. Laa laa laa. Fahliille nid lovaas.” She shrugs and fixes Kagrenac with an apologetic grin. “Daar lost?” 

“Music,” Kagrenac says. Her namesake.

Barfok’s eyes widen. “Kagren? Hi los Kagren-Aka?” 

Kagrenac nods. On the shelf is another Dwemeri device, a small listening-frame constructed of thin ebony beams, and she picks it up, takes away the damper that stops it from soaking in vibrations. It begins to hum noiselessly in her hand and she places it back down.

Barfok crosses her arms, watching Kagrenac walk to the desk, where sits her most treasured possession: a small array of bells, fifteen in all. 

She strikes the first violet bell and a single clear tone rings out across the study.

“Daar los?” Kagrenac asks above the lingering sound.

Barfok’s expression is unreadable, and her answer is slow: “Dibela.”

Kagrenac strikes the second bell, brass. 

“Stuhn,” replies Barfok. 

The third bell. “Tsun,” Barfok says. 

The fourth, scarlet. “Fus.”  

The fifth tone, amber. “Qoth.”

The sixth, crimson. “Sahqon,” Barfok says softly, and Kagrenac glances towards the listening-frame on the shelf. 

The seventh note. “Fey.”

The eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh; rose-gold, amaranth, rust and gold in dazzling array. “Shul,” says Barfok. “Feim, tiid, yol.”

The twelfth tone, ebony; Barfok’s expression becomes grim. “Sos.” 

The thirteenth tone is white-noise, and difficult to hear, but Barfok inclines her head and answers, “Od.” 

The fourteenth tone, ocean-blue, heavy and liquid in the air. “Herma-Mora,” Barfok names it.

Kagrenac strikes the final bell, sky, and Barfok closes her eyes briefly. “Kyne.”

A heavy silence descends between them, in which Kagrenac places down the rod she’s used to strike each bell. She walks over to her listening-frame and goes to replace the damper, but, to her surprise, Barfok cries out a word she doesn’t catch, halting her. 

Kagrenac turns to face her guest, as Barfok looks around the room. Agitated, she walks to Kagrenac’s desk and then, with the flats of her palms, strikes the desk hard, as if pounding a drum. “Ok qethsegol,” she says, bewildered. She strikes the desk in a slow rhythm, like a beating heart. “Mansedaan,” she says to Kagrenac, turning to her again, now striking her own chest a few times in that same rhythm, over the heart. “Mansedaan.” 

The sixteenth tone, Kagrenac thinks.

“Shor,” Barfok says, with a thin smile. 

Kagrenac nods, and reaches for the listening-frame-- only for Barfok to walk over and grab her hand. Barfok has broad hands, the palms surprisingly soft, with short chewed fingernails and a small tangle of scars over the fingers like lace. She leans forwards, placing her lips near the listening-box, takes a deep breath, and sings out: “Meyz feim Shor.”

Reality shudders around them, and then ash begins to fall. Kagrenac looks up and sees that the roof is gone from above their heads, as if it was never there all; indeed, as Kagrenac stares up at the grey sky, she finds it hard to imagine that there was ever a roof on the stronghold, so perfectly has it disappeared. 

Barfok squeezes her hand and steps back just as the alarmed emissary barges into their study. He begins yelling about their missing roof, but Kagrenac silences him with a gesture; Barfok, still wearing her cheerful expression, has skipped back and is standing near the wall. 

“Tonal Architect!” cries the emissary, as Kagrenac replaces the damper on her listening-frame. “Our stronghold roof-- it’s utterly disappeared-- how dare that Northman!” And then he shouts something in Aldmeris at Barfok. 

Barfok only laughs at him, and then turns to Kagrenac and bows. “Wuld na kest,” she sings out-- and with that she vanishes entirely, leaving the apoplectic emissary and Kagrenac standing in the steady fall of ash. 

“Meyz feim Shor,” Kagrenac murmurs to herself. She looks to the Emissary. “Are you finished?”

“The amount of time it will take to repair the Stronghold--” says the emissary, flustered. 

“We’re not repairing it,” Kagrenac says. She lifts the listening-frame from the shelf and places it securely into one of the deep pockets of her robe. “I’ve obtained what I needed here. Have Sturdumz placed into hibernation; we shall depart for Vvardenfell tomorrow.”

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

the final battle crack fic i wrote in its entirety

since this is the last opportunity before we find out what actually happens 😭this is just utter hilarity so i didn’t want to put it on AO3 lol

contains spoilers for ep 7, some things that happen in the ending of the book, and my speculations for the show’s finale (some are totally crack, but some are more legit possibilities)

As the blimp approached Nomansan Island, Mr. Benedict took stock of the situation. He had with him three women who all looked out for blood in their own individual ways, one secret agent (hopefully alive) on the island, and four very smart children who were presumably with him. He considered that he should probably not assume they are all together; knowing the children it was highly likely they had eluded him in order to conduct a dangerous mission. His stomach twisted at the thought. 

Number Two was navigating the blimp. Her face was set in an expression of stoic determination, and the pockets of her jacket bulged with contents unknown to him. She was chewing angrily on a piece of beef jerky as she rotated the steering wheel. Good, good. At least one of his companions looked none too out of the ordinary. Rhonda had hastily compiled a battle outfit consisting of a facemask covering her mouth and nose and a fashionable looking tracksuit. She carried a backpack filled with spray paint that she had brought “just in case” and was now informing Miss Perumal of her experience participating in direct action protests. 

“It is an ethical stance, you see, because the conscious does not allow one to do nothing– no matter how small that action is,” she said. Mr. Benedict smiled. He loved seeing the strong character Rhonda possessed shining through.

Miss Perumal looked every inch the schoolteacher she was. She wore neat black slacks, a pink sweater, and coordinating jacket. Her shoes were flat but still made a satisfying clicking sound, indicating a small protrusion at the heel. She appeared composed enough, but Mr. Benedict could sense the anger emanating from her, the determined wrath of a mother whose child is endangered. He made a mental note to thank her at a later date for being such a wonderful teacher for Reynie. If they survived, that is.

Number Two shouted from the helm that they were nearing the island.

“Where shall I chart our course?” she asked, with all the seriousness of a military general. Mr. Benedict examined the horizon. A large tower was in sight, practically begging for invading air travellers to notice. This must be the tower the children had told them about over morse code. It was undoubtedly their target.

“He’s built us a veritable lighthouse, my dear Number Two. I propose we follow its shine.”

It was at that moment that a sizable commotion could be heard from the surface of the island. They had, unsurprisingly, been noticed. Students stared and pointed while adults who appeared to be security details shouted frantically into radios. There was one particularly large group of these adults who surrounded a quite familiar face.

“Milligan’s been captured!” Number Two cried.

“Milligan’s alive!” Rhonda countered.

“Yes, yes, that is...quite the development...oh dear,” Mr. Benedict said, swaying slightly. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, rubbing the plaid fabric of his shirt. “I’m alright, Rhonda, it’s passed.” 

Seeing as the concept of stealth was now off the table, they prepared to make a calamitous entry. Number Two lowered the blimp into a clearing near the tower and adjacent to the pavilion in which Milligan was being held. It appeared that his imprisoners had been in the process of moving him somewhere to be held or interrogated when the arrival of the blimp proved a delay. When they were about fifteen feet away from the ground, Rhonda took out her spraypaint and shot a stream of fuschia directly into the eyes of Milligan’s captors. Blinded, they fell to the ground, and Milligan seized the opportunity to pick the lock of his chains using the zipper on his pants.

“I don’t remember this being part of the plan, sir!” he shouted upwards, pausing periodically to land punches into the men who were now attempting to prevent his escape without the benefit of their eyesight. 

“Reevaluation became necessary!” Mr. Benedict returned. “Where are the children?”

“That I do not know. I left them after allowing myself to be captured as a distraction. I can only hope that they have prevailed.”

At this point, the blimp had touched down on the ground, and its four passengers disembarked. They made haste towards the tower. Miss Perumal took the lead, and when more security agents appeared, she glared at them with such deadly force that they blanched and stepped out of her way. Upon reaching the door to the tower, she found it locked, and stepped aside for Mr. Benedict. He examined the panel and entered a password. The door opened.

“How did you do that?” Miss Perumal asked.

“Nathanial always used that password. Even when we didn’t have any real vaults to guard, and he was just telling me stories about being a secret agent. Really, though, you would think for your megalomaniac mind control tower you’d want to be a bit more original, but– no matter.”

With an astonished chuckle, Miss Perumal continued in her march up the tower stairs. Her shoes clacked ferociously against the tile. At last, they made it to the top. Mr. Benedict was rather out of breath, and Number Two pulled a water bottle out of her pockets, which he accepted unblinkingly. This door did not have a passcode, and so Milligan kicked it sharply, watching with a satisfied sigh as it fell to the ground.

“That’s called the old-fashioned way,” he said.

The sight inside was extraordinary. Sticky was seated in a strange contraption. A helmet that looked rather like an egg was attached to his head. Nathaniel– god, it was really him, his brother– was seated in a chair facing Sticky. Reynie was standing behind Mr. Curtain next to the room’s large window, and looked to have been halfway through removing its screen. Outside the window, Kate hung dangling from a rope attached to the adjacent flagpole, with Constance tied to her back. Her face was one of utmost terror. All of them had paused in what they were doing to stare in shock at the busted down door and the five adults who stood behind it. 

Mr. Benedict took a step into the room, looked at his brother, and promptly collapsed onto the floor. The others were prepared to fight Mr. Curtain, but he made no moves towards aggression. He simply sat in his chair and stared at his brother, now laying in what looked to be a painful position on the ground. His eyes looked strangely devoid. A moment passed, then he seemed to come to his senses, and he flared with anger.

“Snakes and dogs!” he barked, his voice a cuttingly malicious sting. He understood himself to be surrounded. He pressed a button on the seat of his chair.

“What are you incompetent fools doing here? And why would you let him fall like that?” he screamed, looking at Mr. Benedict. He then promptly turned an alarming shade of white, apparently realizing what he had just said.

“I mean...of course you will never defeat me! One of you is already down for the count, and I haven’t needed to lift a finger! My security agents will be here shortly. I have just summoned them with this button.”

Miss Perumal strutted up to him, looked him directly in the eyes, and slapped him hard across the face. He spluttered.

“How dare you endanger Reynie! You should be ashamed of yourself, you pathetic excuse for a father and an educator!” 

Mr. Curtain had shut down again. He did not appear to be taking in any of what Miss Perumal was saying, but this did not deter her. She continued yelling until Reynie ran over to her and wrapped his arms around her. She quieted down in the interest of not hurting his ears. 

“We’ll see how well those security people do with paint in their eyes,” Rhonda quipped, choosing to ignore the scene that had just occurred. Mr. Curtain startled.

“Wait, with what?”

It was at this point that Mr. Benedict stirred. He felt a sizable bump on the side of his head, and his muscles ached as he made to sit up. Number Two ran forward and pulled him up into a standing position. He would have to ignore the pain he was in.

“Rhonda, if you would be so kind as to assist Reynie in letting our friends through that window, I would be much obliged,” he said. He then leveled his gaze at his brother. He stayed awake this time.

“You haven’t gotten any better at taming those curls, Nicky,” Mr. Curtain said coldly. Mr. Benedict swayed at the invocation of his childhood nickname, but held steady. Number Two kept her hands placed steadily on his shoulders.

“You haven’t thought of any new passwords.”

“Touche.”

“What is going on here? Why...why has it come to this, Nathaniel?” Mr. Benedict asked, his voice cracking. There were tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“You know as well as I do that nothing in this wretched world is owed to us, brother. You’ve got to take what you want. You’ve got to take power. You’ve got to take control. Really, I’d be surprised you were content to live for so many years as some obscure scientist who nobody really respects. Then again, you were always the soft one.”

The window had now been opened, and Kate and Constance heaved themselves inside. Constance strode directly toward the chair in which Sticky was still seated, openmouthed.

“Move aside, George Washington,” she ordered. He rose obediently. Constance fitted the egg helmet around her head and sat quietly for a moment. She seemed to be taking in the situation. Then, without warning, she screamed.

“RULES AND SCHOOLS ARE TOOLS FOR FOOLS!”

“I’M AFRAID OF YOUR FACE!”

“NOW WE HAVE WAITED FOR THIRTY CONSECUTIVE MINUTES TO SEE SOME OLD DIRTY EXECUTIVE!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Number Two took this moment of great distraction as an opportunity to shoot Mr. Curtain with her slingshot. He fell to the ground, unconscious. The longer that Constance screamed, the weaker she appeared. Eventually her shouts were more like determined moans. The machine that the egg was attached to crackled and sparked, and finally, it seemed to combust. There was a nasty sounding mechanical noise. A small fire started in the ceiling, which Kate quickly contained. Constance had overwhelmed the machine. She fell over, hardly awake, and Mr. Benedict rushed to her side.

“I believe that it is time for our escape, friends,” he said, making his way towards the door with Constance in his arms.

The group made their way down out of the tower, preparing for the fight that would no doubt ensue as they attempted to escape the island. Rhonda paused as they reached the outside of the tower. She grabbed her spray paint once again and aimed at the tower wall.

“Nathaniel Curtain looks washed out in blue?” Number Two read, “Really, Rhonda?”

“It is true. He cannot pull off that suit,” Constance mumbled.

Everyone laughed, and the society basked in the knowledge that this was the end of their mission at last.

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | one

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

*a/n*: hiiiiii! so here we go. i don’t have much to say except that you’ll probably notice this chapter is a bit shorter than they usually are for my fics. with this story, chapters may or may not be shorter in length. this is just easier on me, and helps me to keep a regular posting schedule. now, i’m not going to say i won’t post longer chapters, but i just wanted to get it out there. i have a tentative posting schedule in mind, which i’ll make a post about later, but i’d say you can probably expect a new chapter every two weeks. 

also, just want to say- i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy right now. stay home, wash your hands, avoid contact with your face, and if you have to order food tip your delivery drivers a lil extra! and to those that don’t get to stay home and still have to work, i’m right there with you. we’ll get through this and all we can do is take it day by day ❤️

✩ index here ✩

make sure you read the prologue first! 

Today had started just like any other day. Mark got up and went about his morning, brushing his teeth, eating his breakfast, and taking his usual ten minutes to sketch the ideas in his brain before heading off to work. 

It’d been slow, but Mark wasn’t worried. There were enough appointments on Saturday and Sunday to make up for a slow Friday. The temperature had reached an uncomfortable high, so he’d dressed himself in a black muscle tee to offer some relief from the sticky air. 

The early afternoon went smoothly. Mark took the opportunity to work on some new designs and do some organizing in his tattoo room, while the other guys opted to sit around showing each other funny videos on their phones. 

By the time lunch rolled around, he decided to sit outside with his iced coffee, scrolling through social media on his phone while relaxing in the shade of the awning. He glanced up mindlessly, his eyes drawn to a figure standing across the street. 

A girl holding an ice cream cone. Mark’s breath caught in his throat because, no, it wouldn’t be you. You’d be back home, attending some tiny college where your parents could keep a watchful eye on your every move, not here in the great big city. 

Then the girl dropped her ice cream cone, her whine audible even from where Mark sat. He couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips. He shook his head, just as there was a knock behind him on the glass of the door. 

Dahyun popped her head out. “Youngjae needs help grabbing some boxes from the back, can you help? Jackson and Yugyeom are being assholes.” 

Mark nodded, one last glance across the street before he stood up, heading back inside.

-----

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as Mark pressed the tip of his tattoo gun to your skin. Just the constant buzzing of the tool was enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Once you felt it, though, it wasn’t so bad. It hurt, but you’d been through worse. It was comparable to a thousand tiny kittens scratching you with their claws, over and over again. 

“You doing alright?” Mark asked, once one long minute had passed. 

You nodded, your arms squeezing the back of the chair you were straddling. It was an uncomfortable position, but it was the only way Mark would be able to access the back of your shoulder. You’d also had to strip down to just your bra, so at least you were given some modesty. 

“Yeah. Just... how long will it take?” 

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed how hard he was concentrating. His tongue was stuck between his lips, peeking out the corner. He was entirely focused on the art that he was tracing onto your skin. 

“Not long. The shading is what will take the longest, but it’s small, so I should have you out of here within the hour.” 

You exhaled slowly and pressed your forehead into the cushioned back of the chair as he went over the same area a few times. Though he muttered a ‘sorry’, you found yourself wincing from the pain. 

Yerin had left to get ready for work, as the stenciling and position process had gone on longer than either of you had thought. You’d made Mark move the stencil several times until you liked the positioning. Admittedly, it had been a stalling tactic to delay the inevitable pain that was coming. 

“How’s Taehyung?” Mark asked, just as he took a break from tracing onto your skin. You opened your eyes to see him reaching for a cloth to wipe across your skin. 

The question caught you off guard. Just the name of your brother was enough to rub salt into the wound you’d been holding closed for the last two months. You gulped, turning your face to press your other cheek into the chair, hiding your expression. 

“He’s good. He’s been in Japan for two years now, I think. He’s happy there.” 

You barely even noticed Mark returning to your tattoo, the pain less noticeable while your mind was occupied. 

“That’s good. I saw on Facebook he has a girlfriend now?” 

You nodded. “Mhm. Her name’s Jennie--she seems nice.” 

Mark didn’t need to know that you hadn’t spoken to your brother since the week before you moved to Seoul. He didn’t need to know you’d been avoiding his calls, texts, and e-mails. Most of them you deleted without even opening. 

From what you knew, Taehyung and Mark had simply drifted once they both moved out of your tiny town and started creating a life for themselves. Taehyung spent his years after college roaming the world, taking photos and putting on exhibits until he secured a steady photography job for a Japanese magazine. 

Mark moved before that, though you hadn’t known he’d moved to the city until today. You hadn’t ever been close to him besides the casual greeting when he’d be downstairs playing video games with Taehyung while you were doing homework. 

When you were younger, you’d had an innocent crush on him, only because he was one of the few boys that paid you any attention. You’d only ever had a handful of conversations, but he was always polite and even helped you with your math homework once or twice. It really hadn’t taken much to impress you back then.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” Mark asked. 

You were grateful for the slight change in subject. It was only a matter of time before he started asking about your parents, and you wouldn’t have been able to pretend any longer. 

“A couple of months. I just… wanted a change,” you told him honestly. 

Maybe you’d gotten more than you’d bargained for… but regardless, you were grateful for your newfound independence. 

“I get it,” Mark replied. “Alright, outline is done. Now we’ll just have to shade. I’ll give you a few minutes, okay?” 

You lifted your face from the back of the chair and sat up straight. “Can I see it?” you asked. 

It took a moment for you to realize Mark’s ears were turning red because without the shield of the chair, your entire bra-clad chest was now on display for him. It didn’t help that you’d chosen a pink, lacy bra just because it was the first one you’d grabbed out of your laundry bag. 

Quickly, you leaned forward again to cover yourself with the chair, biting forcefully onto your lip. You could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry…” you said.

Mark cleared his throat and turned around, reaching for a handheld mirror on the table behind him. “It’s okay… I’ve definitely seen worse. Not that it was bad, or, well-” 

It was obvious he’d put his foot in his mouth. You found yourself giggling, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. Mark looked as if he was desperate for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head at himself as he turned back around. “Here,” he said chuckling softly as he held up the mirror behind you so that you could see the work he’d already done. 

You managed to stifle your giggles as you turned your head. It was no wonder Mark was known for pieces like this--his lines were crisp and clear, flowing in such a way that it looked as if your skin was born with this intricate design. You couldn’t wait to see how it looked when it was complete.

“Good?” he asked.

“I love it,” you said, smiling wide. “Makes the pain worth it.” 

Mark looked pleased with your answer. He set the mirror down and got up, switching out the ink on his pen for the color he was going to use for the petals, a soft cool toned purple. 

You resumed your position against the chair after a few more minutes, fists clenched as you prepared for the pain. 

-----

It turned out not to be so bad. Mark kept you distracted, asking you questions about your experience in the city so far. When he sensed you avoiding the topic of home or your parents, he didn’t push. 

Once he got your tattoo bandaged up, you sat around talking for another half an hour while he showed you photos of his drawings, as per your request. You’d never known that he was so talented. 

“I guess I should be going,” you said after a lull in conversation. If you wanted to get back to your room before your roommate began their daily music blasting and loud video game routine, you’d need to head back. 

“Where are you staying?” he asked, pulling off his gloves and washing his hands in the miniature sink against the wall.

“Just… this little place,” you answered. Little was an understatement. 

When you’d moved out, you’d only had a suitcase and a finite amount of cash. It hadn’t exactly been planned, so your options were limited. You stayed in the first hostel you could find, and you were disappointed to find that the wages you received from serving couldn’t provide you with anything better. 

You shared a room, currently with a Russian girl a few years older than you that seemed to only be staying in Seoul to play shooting games and blast ear-piercing rock metal. Your last roommate hadn’t been nearly as bad, but you weren’t having great luck. 

“Here, I’m just finishing up for the day. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat, then I’ll take you home.” 

Your efforts to refuse his offer were basically ignored. He gave you no choice as he led you out to the front room to pay for your tattoo, whispering something lowly to Dahyun as she wrote up your bill. 

“Mark,” you said in protest once you saw the total. You didn’t know much about tattoo pricing, but you were sure this was significantly lower than it should have been.

“What? It’s a family and friends discount.”

You sighed. As much as you wanted to refuse his help, you had to admit you could take whatever discounts you could get. Tattoos were expensive and you certainly didn’t have the budget to get one as impulsively as you had today. 

“I’ll get my stuff ready, then I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Mark asked and you nodded, watching as he walked off to his room. 

“Family and friends, huh?” Dahyun asked, eyebrows raised as she watched you sign your receipt. “You must have gotten really close back there.” 

You laughed, sliding the receipt back over the table. “It turns out, he used to be best friends with my older brother. So… family, I guess,” you said, though you never really saw him as such. No matter how many times your mother acted like he was her second son. 

“Wow, small world,” Dahyun said as she handed over a sheet of paper with a list of bullet points on it. She went over the aftercare process, recommending the creams and ointments that she preferred, and ways to help it heal faster. 

After thanking Dahyun over and over for her kindness, you gathered your things and waited outside of the front door for Mark. 

When your day began, you never would have thought you’d be having dinner with your brother’s old best friend, bringing back memories you hadn’t quite been ready to revisit. But he was so sweet to you, so easy to talk to, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to say no. 

You’d always admired Mark’s choice to move to Seoul straight out of school, with no plan and no connections to the city. And he only came back for holidays and special occasions. While you were hastily packing your clothes into a duffel bag, you remembered thinking briefly of him. 

“Ready?” Mark asked from behind you as he exited the shop. The sunlight hit his skin, bringing your attention to the swirling designs upon his shoulder. The way his shirt was cut allowed you a peek of his ribs—you could see loopy cursive etched on his skin but you were unable to make it out.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you replied with a smile, tearing your eyes from his bare skin. 

[kingstylesdaily]

Harry Styles’ “Adore You” Is Everything a Music Video Should Be (Including Underappreciated by The VMAs)

KSD NOTE: there is a mention of suicide in regards to the beginning of Adore You.

On November 18, 2019, a website promoting a mysterious place called Eroda (“No Land Quite Like It”) arrived on the internet. Two days later, the official Twitter account for this fictional frown-shaped island began teasing local seaside attractions. You may have missed it, depending on which corners of the internet you choose to lurk, but not if you were a Harry Styles fan, a group that went into pure overdrive trying to figure out what it all meant.

I, for one, missed it at the time. I was unaware this account was cryptically quote tweeting fans as they tried to piece together what was happening, what it meant, and what it could be connected to (Greek Mythology and Lost were a couple of theories posed in comments, Twitter threads, and Reddit). Meanwhile, the Columbia Records marketing department had been hard at work for months, devising this specific and highly-detailed campaign around the music video for Styles’ second single, “Adore You” from his second solo album, Fine Line, ever since he shot the video in Scotland in August 2019 (Eroda = Adore backwards — clever!).

But it was all leading up to the morning of Friday, December 6 when the video was released, one week before the full-length album arrived. Up until that point, I had never seen an entire Harry Styles music video, but what happened next was inevitable. Somehow, as a self-proclaimed boy band scholar, I had never paid much attention to One Direction. I kept a distant eye on Styles since they disbanded, intrigued by the decisions he was making in his solo career. But I hadn’t yet realized I’d been in the ring all throughout the fall of 2019, fighting to resist the inevitable fascination that awaited. First came the jab of Rob Sheffield’s Rolling Stone profile, followed by the cross of “Lights Up”, a song that cracked my Top 20 most listened to songs of the year despite being released just two months before Spotify so thoughtfully compiled that personalized playlist. Then there was the hook of his SNL hosting stint in November (and bless you Bowen Yang for that Sara Lee sketch), which then leads us to the “Adore You” video, the uppercut and ultimate TKO. I surrendered in what felt like a near instant. I was now a Harry Styles fan. (If we’re following this analogy, I sat up to spit out some blood after seeing that cover of “Juice” before my head quickly hit the mat again with a loud thud).

Maybe it’s not quite remarkable that I took time out of a Friday morning to watch a music video, but that I sat at my desk, in an office, with other people around (back when we did those kinds of things) and proceeded to wipe away a few tiny tears from under my eyes by the end of it, was an experience I had not been through… maybe ever? In a world of lyric videos and TikToks, actual, thoughtful, impactful music videos with a full (and sweet!) story are about as rare as a glowing and growing fish these days.

Ultimately, “Adore You” does everything a music video should do. In nearly eight minutes, this video uses excellent visual effects in a cool and interesting way, tells a compelling and heartfelt story, is anchored by an irresistible leading man and an adorable sidekick, is backed up by the catchiest song you could ever dream of, and culminates with a touching and hopeful ending. It’s a treat for the eyes and the ears and the soul. It’s innovative and the kind of thing that begs you to watch it more than once to catch all the details (and yes, I do tear up every time).

So one would think that an award show with the specific purpose of celebrating this type of creativity would be extra sure to nominate such a charming and effective clip, but alas, “Adore You” was overlooked in the MTV Video Music Awards main categories this year. Of course, some could argue that that fact only adds to the video’s credibility but I’ll do my best to not be that petty as I’m still rooting for it to win in the three technical categories where it picked up nominations: Best Visual Effects by Mathematic, Best Art Direction by Laura Ellis Cricks, and Best Direction by Dave Meyers, who remains one of the most inventive and influential directors of all time and whose videos with artists such as Missy Elliot, Pink, and Kendrick Lamar have been racking up nominations for nearly 20 years now. He also saw four other videos he directed get recognized this year: Normani’s “Motivation” (Best Chorography), Travis Scott’s “Highest in the Room” (Best Hop Hop and Best Visual Effects), Anderson .Paak’s “Lockdown” (Video For Good), and Camila Cabello feat. DaBaby’s “My Oh My” (Best Cinematography).

But I reached out to Meyers to specifically ask about the intricate details of “Adore You” and how it all came to be; how he captured such a vibe with the overcast and dreary weather, mixed so wonderfully with the charming oddities of the people that make up this world of Eroda. In addition to directing the video, he also co-wrote the story with Chris Shafer and said, “It’s the first idea that popped to mind after the first listen to the song, and the first idea I pitched to Harry. It was a story that underscored my understanding of what Harry stood for and felt it was necessary to tell it as a narrative to convey his optimism.”

The extended version of the video starts with a two-and-a-half-minute introduction to the world of Eroda, narrated by Rosalia. This includes the “peculiar” people and their professions on the island, meeting The Boy (Styles) and his glowing smile that most people try to avoid, and the quirky superstitions these people continue to live by. “It all served a purpose,” Meyers said of the details. “The superstitions were a set up for how society generally reacts to different things. They fear change or oddity, even if it’s what’s best for them.”

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing phased them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

However, it’s likely that Mother Nature is also a Styles fan, as Meyers recalled, “I seem to remember going up on the hill for Harry’s picnic with the fish and being worried that it was so gloomy. By the time we came to shoot, the sun came out. And then the sun went away as soon as the scene was over. Similarly, we had the worst storm when Harry was contemplating suicide at the start. Pouring rain, drenching him. So I guess in that sense it was fun watching how Scotland provided a backdrop for the emotions we were after.”

And hey, at least they had the weather on their side to add to the mood while shooting the video, as one of their main characters, well, didn’t exist. “It was very odd shooting with no fish,” Meyers admitted. “But was quite rewarding later seeing it dropped in and making empathic sense to the story we were after.”

Of course, the main character they did have on hand is an awfully useful and appealing one at that. Fans became enamored with the moment Styles uses the back of his hand to check the temperature of a coffee pot before dumping the fish inside the water so it could stay alive. I asked Meyers about this particular moment and he said, “The problem we had was apparent when Harry ran in and threw the fish in the pot. We all sorta felt — well, what if it was hot? So I believe Harry improvised that as a solution and we felt it was perfect for the character’s sensitivity and consideration for this poor fish.” And that’s not the only nice thing he does for his fish friend — he also serves him a tiny taco! “The taco was a whimsical way to express friendship between Harry and the fish,” Meyers offered. It looked pretty tasty, too.

The entire video serves as a showcase for what Styles does best and what makes him such a unique artist: his music, his acting, and his charisma, which Meyers knew would offer him a lot to work with. “Harry is a leading man. I felt that from my first meeting and wanted to play with his wonderful range of emotions. So finding a story with a real character arc was part of my focus in building this world.” Meyers described working on “Adore You” as an “all-around memorable shoot: awesome location, lovely Harry, compelling story, great effects, and… it worked.”

It did. And it was a risk: a video this complex and detailed (and one has to assume, costly), attached to a marketing campaign that proved to be even more involved, still came with no guarantee that the fans wouldn’t shrug it off. But as Manos Xanthogeorgis, SVP of Digital Marketing & Media at Columbia Records told Billboard last year, “When you have a video and a piece of art at such a level, it’s an incredible challenge for the rest of the team to build a campaign at that same level of artistry and creativity.” Oh, and that was only step one, as the marketing team engaged in “real-time marketing” with fans online, ensuring they would continue to remain engaged by dropping clues and clips in the lead-up to the video premiere and subsequently the album. “This whole campaign was around mystery and sometimes mystery is more powerful than knowledge,” Xanthogeorgis said. The Twitter handle has remained active throughout 2020, used as a continual marketing tool for Styles’ next videos including the Meyers-directed “Falling” and this summer’s hit, “Watermelon Sugar.”

With that kind of fan engagement, “Adore You” seemed like a no-brainer for the fan-voted categories of the VMAs this year, as they surely would’ve turned out to vote just as feverishly for this video as they did when searching for clues (about a made-up island, at that!). But hey, maybe MTV was just not interested in massive fan engagement this year — after all, it’s not like everything Styles does, including growing freakin’ facial hair, has the internet in a tizzy for weeks. Ultimately, as the impact of music videos (and certainly the ceremony celebrating them) continues to lose relevance, the disregard of this specific project simply feels like a missed opportunity to acknowledge a rare achievement in the art form.

While Meyers was sure to describe his inclusion in the VMA nominations this year as “lovely and flattering” (and he better have a moonperson in his possession this time next week, MTV!) it’s still puzzling why “Adore You” wouldn’t be included in the big categories, considering Styles is squarely within their demo, at the very least. That “Adore You” is also a technical and storytelling masterpiece, as well as a full moment that was used as inspiration both for the experience online and in-person at the Fine Line Spotify listening party last December, that also comes packed with one of the most enthusiastic groups of fans around, well, that should have had the entire network drooling.

Of course, some of this can simply be chalked up to a perfect storm. As far as his singles go, “Lights Up” was a nice appetizer, but “Adore You” remains the delicious entree (you already know what’s for dessert). “Adore You” is a perfect pop record if I’ve ever heard one (and I have) and deserved a special video. A Chris Isaak “Wicked Game” sexy vibe wasn’t going to work here. The song tells the story of such passionate, pure, and heartachingly naive and innocent love that it almost had to be directed toward a non-human being. Instead, Styles chose to inject those same carefree, sweaty, sticky, delicious, whimsical beach vibes into the “Watermelon Sugar” clip, which was the right choice, and not just for the summertime season (MTV has since added the Song of Summer category to the VMAs and included “Watermelon Sugar”).

But it’s “Adore You” that has melodies that bring a smile to the faces of babies, get your toes tapping even when you hear it in the dentist’s chair, and likely has my neighbors rolling their eyes when I sing along to it in the shower. The song is so simple it’s deep, a theme reflected in the video, as is the central reminder to help and care for others, a thoroughly 2020 message.

However, not all is lost. Both “Adore You” and “Watermelon Sugar” continue to rack up major spins at radio with the latter hitting number one on the Billboard charts earlier this month. Grammy voting kicks off at the end of September and Academy members should take note. Not only is Fine Line more than worthy of being acknowledged, but having Styles on hand to potentially collect trophies and perform is in your best interest when it comes to viewers and online chatter. Do not wait to take him seriously. This is the album, this is the time. Prove that you aren’t a bunch of stodgy old white men who think he’s just for teen (and um, thirty-something) girls, but that you understand the music he enjoys, is inspired by, and subsequently makes, is the same rock music you appreciate as well. An artist like Styles can be both of those things at the same time, and really, the best of both worlds. Give the album a listen, and then one more to let it all sink in. If you have not yet succumbed to the force that is Harry Styles fandom, I truly can’t recommend it enough — and please know that it will get you eventually.

Source: Decider.com

[hlupdate]

On November 18, 2019, a website promoting a mysterious place called Eroda (“No Land Quite Like It”) arrived on the internet. Two days later, the official Twitter account for this fictional frown-shaped island began teasing local seaside attractions. You may have missed it, depending on which corners of the internet you choose to lurk, but not if you were a Harry Styles fan, a group that went into pure overdrive trying to figure out what it all meant.

I, for one, missed it at the time. I was unaware this account was cryptically quote tweeting fans as they tried to piece together what was happening, what it meant, and what it could be connected to (Greek Mythology and Lostwere a couple of theories posed in comments, Twitter threads, and Reddit). Meanwhile, the Columbia Records marketing department had been hard at work for months, devising this specific and highly-detailed campaign around the music video for Styles’ second single, “Adore You” from his second solo album, Fine Line, ever since he shot the video in Scotland in August 2019 (Eroda = Adore backwards — clever!).

But it was all leading up to the morning of Friday, December 6 when the video was released, one week before the full-length album arrived. Up until that point, I had never seen an entire Harry Styles music video, but what happened next was inevitable. Somehow, as a self-proclaimed boy band scholar, I had never paid much attention to One Direction. I kept a distant eye on Styles since they disbanded, intrigued by the decisions he was making in his solo career. But I hadn’t yet realized I’d been in the ring all throughout the fall of 2019, fighting to resist the inevitable fascination that awaited. First came the jab of Rob Sheffield’s Rolling Stoneprofile, followed by the cross of “Lights Up”, a song that cracked my Top 20 most listened to songs of the year despite being released just two months before Spotify so thoughtfully compiled that personalized playlist. Then there was the hook of his SNL hosting stint in November (and bless you Bowen Yang for that Sara Lee sketch), which then leads us to the “Adore You” video, the uppercut and ultimate TKO. I surrendered in what felt like a near instant. I was now a Harry Styles fan. (If we’re following this analogy, I sat up to spit out some blood after seeing that cover of “Juice” before my head quickly hit the mat again with a loud thud).

Maybe it’s not quite remarkable that I took time out of a Friday morning to watch a music video, but that I sat at my desk, in an office, with other people around (back when we did those kinds of things) and proceeded to wipe away a few tiny tears from under my eyes by the end of it, was an experience I had not been through… maybe ever? In a world of lyric videos and TikToks, actual, thoughtful, impactful music videos with a full (and sweet!) story are about as rare as a glowing and growing fish these days.

Ultimately, “Adore You” does everything a music video should do. In nearly eight minutes, this video uses excellent visual effects in a cool and interesting way, tells a compelling and heartfelt story, is anchored by an irresistible leading man and an adorable sidekick, is backed up by the catchiest song you could ever dream of, and culminates with a touching and hopeful ending. It’s a treat for the eyes and the ears and the soul. It’s innovative and the kind of thing that begs you to watch it more than once to catch all the details (and yes, I do tear up every time).

So one would think that an award show with the specific purpose of celebrating this type of creativity would be extra sure to nominate such a charming and effective clip, but alas, “Adore You” was overlooked in the MTV Video Music Awards main categories this year. Of course, some could argue that that fact only adds to the video’s credibility but I’ll do my best to not be that petty as I’m still rooting for it to win in the three technical categories where it picked up nominations: Best Visual Effects by Mathematic, Best Art Direction by Laura Ellis Cricks, and Best Direction by Dave Meyers, who remains one of the most inventive and influential directors of all time and whose videos with artists such as Missy Elliot, Pink, and Kendrick Lamar have been racking up nominations for nearly 20 years now. He also saw four other videos he directed get recognized this year: Normani’s “Motivation” (Best Chorography), Travis Scott’s “Highest in the Room” (Best Hop Hop and Best Visual Effects), Anderson .Paak’s “Lockdown” (Video For Good), and Camila Cabello feat. DaBaby’s “My Oh My” (Best Cinematography).

But I reached out to Meyers to specifically ask about the intricate details of “Adore You” and how it all came to be; how he captured such a vibe with the overcast and dreary weather, mixed so wonderfully with the charming oddities of the people that make up this world of Eroda. In addition to directing the video, he also co-wrote the story with Chris Shafer and said, “It’s the first idea that popped to mind after the first listen to the song, and the first idea I pitched to Harry. It was a story that underscored my understanding of what Harry stood for and felt it was necessary to tell it as a narrative to convey his optimism.”

The extended version of the video starts with a two-and-a-half-minute introduction to the world of Eroda, narrated by Rosalia. This includes the “peculiar” people and their professions on the island, meeting The Boy (Styles) and his glowing smile that most people try to avoid, and the quirky superstitions these people continue to live by. “It all served a purpose,” Meyers said of the details. “The superstitions were a set up for how society generally reacts to different things. They fear change or oddity, even if it’s what’s best for them.”

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing fazed them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

However, it’s likely that Mother Nature is also a Styles fan, as Meyers recalled, “I seem to remember going up on the hill for Harry’s picnic with the fish and being worried that it was so gloomy. By the time we came to shoot, the sun came out. And then the sun went away as soon as the scene was over. Similarly, we had the worst storm when Harry was contemplating suicide at the start. Pouring rain, drenching him. So I guess in that sense it was fun watching how Scotland provided a backdrop for the emotions we were after.”

And hey, at least they had the weather on their side to add to the mood while shooting the video, as one of their main characters, well, didn’t exist. “It was very odd shooting with no fish,” Meyers admitted. “But was quite rewarding later seeing it dropped in and making empathic sense to the story we were after.”

Of course, the main character they did have on hand is an awfully useful and appealing one at that. Fans became enamored with the moment Styles uses the back of his hand to check the temperature of a coffee pot before dumping the fish inside the water so it could stay alive. I asked Meyers about this particular moment and he said, “The problem we had was apparent when Harry ran in and threw the fish in the pot. We all sorta felt — well, what if it was hot? So I believe Harry improvised that as a solution and we felt it was perfect for the character’s sensitivity and consideration for this poor fish.” And that’s not the only nice thing he does for his fish friend — he also serves him a tiny taco! “The taco was a whimsical way to express friendship between Harry and the fish,” Meyers offered. It looked pretty tasty, too.

The entire video serves as a showcase for what Styles does best and what makes him such a unique artist: his music, his acting, and his charisma, which Meyers knew would offer him a lot to work with. “Harry is a leading man. I felt that from my first meeting and wanted to play with his wonderful range of emotions. So finding a story with a real character arc was part of my focus in building this world.” Meyers described working on “Adore You” as an “all-around memorable shoot: awesome location, lovely Harry, compelling story, great effects, and… it worked.”

It did. And it was a risk: a video this complex and detailed (and one has to assume, costly), attached to a marketing campaign that proved to be even more involved, still came with no guarantee that the fans wouldn’t shrug it off. But as Manos Xanthogeorgis, SVP of Digital Marketing & Media at Columbia Records told Billboard last year, “When you have a video and a piece of art at such a level, it’s an incredible challenge for the rest of the team to build a campaign at that same level of artistry and creativity.” Oh, and that was only step one, as the marketing team engaged in “real-time marketing” with fans online, ensuring they would continue to remain engaged by dropping clues and clips in the lead-up to the video premiere and subsequently the album. “This whole campaign was around mystery and sometimes mystery is more powerful than knowledge,” Xanthogeorgis said. The Twitter handle has remained active throughout 2020, used as a continual marketing tool for Styles’ next videos including the Meyers-directed “Falling” and this summer’s hit, “Watermelon Sugar.”

With that kind of fan engagement, “Adore You” seemed like a no-brainer for the fan-voted categories of the VMAs this year, as they surely would’ve turned out to vote just as feverishly for this video as they did when searching for clues (about a made-up island, at that!). But hey, maybe MTV was just not interested in massive fan engagement this year — after all, it’s not like everything Styles does, including growing freakin’ facial hair, has the internet in a tizzy for weeks. Ultimately, as the impact of music videos (and certainly the ceremony celebrating them) continues to lose relevance, the disregard of this specific project simply feels like a missed opportunity to acknowledge a rare achievement in the art form.

While Meyers was sure to describe his inclusion in the VMA nominations this year as “lovely and flattering” (and he better have a moonperson in his possession this time next week, MTV!) it’s still puzzling why “Adore You” wouldn’t be included in the big categories, considering Styles is squarely within their demo, at the very least. That “Adore You” is also a technical and storytelling masterpiece, as well as a full moment that was used as inspiration both for the experience online and in-person at the Fine Line Spotify listening party last December, that also comes packed with one of the most enthusiastic groups of fans around, well, that should have had the entire network drooling.

Of course, some of this can simply be chalked up to a perfect storm. As far as his singles go, “Lights Up” was a nice appetizer, but “Adore You” remains the delicious entree (you already know what’s for dessert). “Adore You” is a perfect pop record if I’ve ever heard one (and I have) and deserved a special video. A Chris Isaak “Wicked Game” sexy vibe wasn’t going to work here. The song tells the story of such passionate, pure, and heartachingly naive and innocent love that it almost had to be directed toward a non-human being. Instead, Styles chose to inject those same carefree, sweaty, sticky, delicious, whimsical beach vibes into the “Watermelon Sugar” clip, which was the right choice, and not just for the summertime season (MTV has since added the Song of Summer category to the VMAs and included “Watermelon Sugar”).

But it’s “Adore You” that has melodies that bring a smile to the faces of babies, get your toes tapping even when you hear it in the dentist’s chair, and likely has my neighbors rolling their eyes when I sing along to it in the shower. The song is so simple it’s deep, a theme reflected in the video, as is the central reminder to help and care for others, a thoroughly 2020 message.

However, not all is lost. Both “Adore You” and “Watermelon Sugar” continue to rack up major spins at radio with the latter hitting number one on the Billboard charts earlier this month. Grammy voting kicks off at the end of September and Academy members should take note. Not only is Fine Line more than worthy of being acknowledged, but having Styles on hand to potentially collect trophies and perform is in your best interest when it comes to viewers and online chatter. Do not wait to take him seriously. This is the album, this is the time. Prove that you aren’t a bunch of stodgy old white men who think he’s just for teen (and um, thirty-something) girls, but that you understand the music he enjoys, is inspired by, and subsequently makes, is the same rock music you appreciate as well. An artist like Styles can be both of those things at the same time, and really, the best of both worlds. Give the album a listen, and then one more to let it all sink in. If you have not yet succumbed to the force that is Harry Styles fandom, I truly can’t recommend it enough — and please know that it will get you eventually.

[stylesnews]

On November 18, 2019, a website promoting a mysterious place called Eroda (“No Land Quite Like It”) arrived on the internet. Two days later, the official Twitter account for this fictional frown-shaped island began teasing local seaside attractions. You may have missed it, depending on which corners of the internet you choose to lurk, but not if you were a Harry Styles fan, a group that went into pure overdrive trying to figure out what it all meant.

I, for one, missed it at the time. I was unaware this account was cryptically quote tweeting fans as they tried to piece together what was happening, what it meant, and what it could be connected to (Greek Mythology and Lost were a couple of theories posed in comments, Twitter threads, and Reddit). Meanwhile, the Columbia Records marketing department had been hard at work for months, devising this specific and highly-detailed campaign around the music video for Styles’ second single, “Adore You” from his second solo album, Fine Line, ever since he shot the video in Scotland in August 2019 (Eroda = Adore backwards — clever!).

But it was all leading up to the morning of Friday, December 6 when the video was released, one week before the full-length album arrived. Up until that point, I had never seen an entire Harry Styles music video, but what happened next was inevitable. Somehow, as a self-proclaimed boy band scholar, I had never paid much attention to One Direction. I kept a distant eye on Styles since they disbanded, intrigued by the decisions he was making in his solo career. But I hadn’t yet realized I’d been in the ring all throughout the fall of 2019, fighting to resist the inevitable fascination that awaited. First came the jab of Rob Sheffield’s Rolling Stone profile, followed by the cross of “Lights Up”, a song that cracked my Top 20 most listened to songs of the year despite being released just two months before Spotify so thoughtfully compiled that personalized playlist. Then there was the hook of his SNL hosting stint in November (and bless you Bowen Yang for that Sara Lee sketch), which then leads us to the “Adore You” video, the uppercut and ultimate TKO. I surrendered in what felt like a near instant. I was now a Harry Styles fan. (If we’re following this analogy, I sat up to spit out some blood after seeing that cover of “Juice” before my head quickly hit the mat again with a loud thud).

Maybe it’s not quite remarkable that I took time out of a Friday morning to watch a music video, but that I sat at my desk, in an office, with other people around (back when we did those kinds of things) and proceeded to wipe away a few tiny tears from under my eyes by the end of it, was an experience I had not been through… maybe ever? In a world of lyric videos and TikToks, actual, thoughtful, impactful music videos with a full (and sweet!) story are about as rare as a glowing and growing fish these days.

Ultimately, “Adore You” does everything a music video should do. In nearly eight minutes, this video uses excellent visual effects in a cool and interesting way, tells a compelling and heartfelt story, is anchored by an irresistible leading man and an adorable sidekick, is backed up by the catchiest song you could ever dream of, and culminates with a touching and hopeful ending. It’s a treat for the eyes and the ears and the soul. It’s innovative and the kind of thing that begs you to watch it more than once to catch all the details (and yes, I do tear up every time).

So one would think that an award show with the specific purpose of celebrating this type of creativity would be extra sure to nominate such a charming and effective clip, but alas, “Adore You” was overlooked in the MTV Video Music Awards main categories this year. Of course, some could argue that that fact only adds to the video’s credibility but I’ll do my best to not be that petty as I’m still rooting for it to win in the three technical categories where it picked up nominations: Best Visual Effects by Mathematic, Best Art Direction by Laura Ellis Cricks, and Best Direction by Dave Meyers, who remains one of the most inventive and influential directors of all time and whose videos with artists such as Missy Elliot, Pink, and Kendrick Lamar have been racking up nominations for nearly 20 years now. He also saw four other videos he directed get recognized this year: Normani’s “Motivation” (Best Chorography), Travis Scott’s “Highest in the Room” (Best Hop Hop and Best Visual Effects), Anderson .Paak’s “Lockdown” (Video For Good), and Camila Cabello feat. DaBaby’s “My Oh My” (Best Cinematography).

But I reached out to Meyers to specifically ask about the intricate details of “Adore You” and how it all came to be; how he captured such a vibe with the overcast and dreary weather, mixed so wonderfully with the charming oddities of the people that make up this world of Eroda. In addition to directing the video, he also co-wrote the story with Chris Shafer and said, “It’s the first idea that popped to mind after the first listen to the song, and the first idea I pitched to Harry. It was a story that underscored my understanding of what Harry stood for and felt it was necessary to tell it as a narrative to convey his optimism.”

The extended version of the video starts with a two-and-a-half-minute introduction to the world of Eroda, narrated by Rosalia. This includes the “peculiar” people and their professions on the island, meeting The Boy (Styles) and his glowing smile that most people try to avoid, and the quirky superstitions these people continue to live by. “It all served a purpose,” Meyers said of the details. “The superstitions were a set up for how society generally reacts to different things. They fear change or oddity, even if it’s what’s best for them.”

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing fazed them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

However, it’s likely that Mother Nature is also a Styles fan, as Meyers recalled, “I seem to remember going up on the hill for Harry’s picnic with the fish and being worried that it was so gloomy. By the time we came to shoot, the sun came out. And then the sun went away as soon as the scene was over. Similarly, we had the worst storm when Harry was contemplating suicide at the start. Pouring rain, drenching him. So I guess in that sense it was fun watching how Scotland provided a backdrop for the emotions we were after.”

And hey, at least they had the weather on their side to add to the mood while shooting the video, as one of their main characters, well, didn’t exist. “It was very odd shooting with no fish,” Meyers admitted. “But was quite rewarding later seeing it dropped in and making empathic sense to the story we were after.”

Of course, the main character they did have on hand is an awfully useful and appealing one at that. Fans became enamored with the moment Styles uses the back of his hand to check the temperature of a coffee pot before dumping the fish inside the water so it could stay alive. I asked Meyers about this particular moment and he said, “The problem we had was apparent when Harry ran in and threw the fish in the pot. We all sorta felt — well, what if it was hot? So I believe Harry improvised that as a solution and we felt it was perfect for the character’s sensitivity and consideration for this poor fish.” And that’s not the only nice thing he does for his fish friend — he also serves him a tiny taco! “The taco was a whimsical way to express friendship between Harry and the fish,” Meyers offered. It looked pretty tasty, too.

The entire video serves as a showcase for what Styles does best and what makes him such a unique artist: his music, his acting, and his charisma, which Meyers knew would offer him a lot to work with. “Harry is a leading man. I felt that from my first meeting and wanted to play with his wonderful range of emotions. So finding a story with a real character arc was part of my focus in building this world.” Meyers described working on “Adore You” as an “all-around memorable shoot: awesome location, lovely Harry, compelling story, great effects, and… it worked.”

It did. And it was a risk: a video this complex and detailed (and one has to assume, costly), attached to a marketing campaign that proved to be even more involved, still came with no guarantee that the fans wouldn’t shrug it off. But as Manos Xanthogeorgis, SVP of Digital Marketing & Media at Columbia Records told Billboard last year, “When you have a video and a piece of art at such a level, it’s an incredible challenge for the rest of the team to build a campaign at that same level of artistry and creativity.” Oh, and that was only step one, as the marketing team engaged in “real-time marketing” with fans online, ensuring they would continue to remain engaged by dropping clues and clips in the lead-up to the video premiere and subsequently the album. “This whole campaign was around mystery and sometimes mystery is more powerful than knowledge,” Xanthogeorgis said. The Twitter handle has remained active throughout 2020, used as a continual marketing tool for Styles’ next videos including the Meyers-directed “Falling” and this summer’s hit, “Watermelon Sugar.”

With that kind of fan engagement, “Adore You” seemed like a no-brainer for the fan-voted categories of the VMAs this year, as they surely would’ve turned out to vote just as feverishly for this video as they did when searching for clues (about a made-up island, at that!). But hey, maybe MTV was just not interested in massive fan engagement this year — after all, it’s not like everything Styles does, including growing freakin’ facial hair, has the internet in a tizzy for weeks. Ultimately, as the impact of music videos (and certainly the ceremony celebrating them) continues to lose relevance, the disregard of this specific project simply feels like a missed opportunity to acknowledge a rare achievement in the art form.

While Meyers was sure to describe his inclusion in the VMA nominations this year as “lovely and flattering” (and he better have a moonperson in his possession this time next week, MTV!) it’s still puzzling why “Adore You” wouldn’t be included in the big categories, considering Styles is squarely within their demo, at the very least. That “Adore You” is also a technical and storytelling masterpiece, as well as a full moment that was used as inspiration both for the experience online and in-person at the Fine Line Spotify listening party last December, that also comes packed with one of the most enthusiastic groups of fans around, well, that should have had the entire network drooling.

Of course, some of this can simply be chalked up to a perfect storm. As far as his singles go, “Lights Up” was a nice appetizer, but “Adore You” remains the delicious entree (you already know what’s for dessert). “Adore You” is a perfect pop record if I’ve ever heard one (and I have) and deserved a special video. A Chris Isaak “Wicked Game” sexy vibe wasn’t going to work here. The song tells the story of such passionate, pure, and heartachingly naive and innocent love that it almost had to be directed toward a non-human being. Instead, Styles chose to inject those same carefree, sweaty, sticky, delicious, whimsical beach vibes into the “Watermelon Sugar” clip, which was the right choice, and not just for the summertime season (MTV has since added the Song of Summer category to the VMAs and included “Watermelon Sugar”).

But it’s “Adore You” that has melodies that bring a smile to the faces of babies, get your toes tapping even when you hear it in the dentist’s chair, and likely has my neighbors rolling their eyes when I sing along to it in the shower. The song is so simple it’s deep, a theme reflected in the video, as is the central reminder to help and care for others, a thoroughly 2020 message.

However, not all is lost. Both “Adore You” and “Watermelon Sugar” continue to rack up major spins at radio with the latter hitting number one on the Billboard charts earlier this month. Grammy voting kicks off at the end of September and Academy members should take note. Not only is Fine Line more than worthy of being acknowledged, but having Styles on hand to potentially collect trophies and perform is in your best interest when it comes to viewers and online chatter. Do not wait to take him seriously. This is the album, this is the time. Prove that you aren’t a bunch of stodgy old white men who think he’s just for teen (and um, thirty-something) girls, but that you understand the music he enjoys, is inspired by, and subsequently makes, is the same rock music you appreciate as well. An artist like Styles can be both of those things at the same time, and really, the best of both worlds. Give the album a listen, and then one more to let it all sink in. If you have not yet succumbed to the force that is Harry Styles fandom, I truly can’t recommend it enough — and please know that it will get you eventually.