#haven’t really been on repeat lately but i click these songs more often than others | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

northlight14 · 3 years

Text

A love for love

Description: Roman loved love. He always had, even as a small child. So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

TW: panic attack, mention of making out but nothing is actually shown, cursing, questioning, unrequited love, let me know if I should add anything else

Ships: unrequited royality, platonic roceit, dukeceit

Genre: high school au

Prompt: prompt 6, aromantic (prompt by @pridewrite2021)

Roman loved love. He always had. Even as a small child, he'd watch wide eyed as Prince Charming leaned down and gave sleeping beauty true loves kiss, something so powerful that it was able to break an evil witches curse. He'd stayed up till early hours in the morning, squealing with excitement as he read about two warriors able to take on an entire army, motivated by their want to keep the other safe and stealing glances at each other as their metal swords collided with the enemies weapon. He'd sing his heart out when a romance song came on the radio, gushing about their love interest with such emotion that Roman adored.

Yes, Roman loved love.

So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

The earliest memory Roman had of this was when he was in first grade. Two of his classmates ran up to him giggling as they sang "Savannah has a crush on you!" Instead of feeling that overwhelming joy like the ones described in his books and music, he felt a deep cutting disgust in his stomach. Roman felt less like he could conquer the world and more like the world was going to swallow him whole. Rather than singing any great love song that he'd sang so many times in his room or in the car, he began crying instead while the two girls looked at him in confusion.

"It was just because I don't like her." Roman told himself.

But this feeling of being out of place only grew as his fellow classmates gushed about their boyfriends and girlfriends, crushes and which cartoon character they find cute. Granted, they were in second and third grade, so the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" roughly translated to "they let me borrow their crayon at break once and now we're in love and going to get married." However, this love for love spread like a virus and Romans desire to fit in only grew. So, during a sleepover with his friends, Roman looked upon the TV, at the princess Aurora and decided 'She'd make a good crush.' Before announcing it to the crowd of toddlers, the words immediately sounding wrong as he spoke them, as if he'd spoken them in a foreign language. He decided that night to never speak of his supposed "crush" ever again. Roman liked Aurora with Prince Philip much more, anyway.

Roman was in fifth grade when he was talking to one of his best friends, Valorie. The two of them just laughing and joking when his friends approached.

"Who's your girlfriend, Ro?" one laughed, putting his arm around Roman. And he knew it was a joke. He knew that. But it still felt like the arm hadn't wrapped around his shoulders and instead knocked all the air out his lungs in one hard punch. This moment lingered in his mind like a haunting apparition, quickly causing any friendships with girls to become strained. First only talking occasionally while in class or on the yard, to only talking when his guy friends weren't around, to only texting outside of school to nothing at all. Roman mourned these friendships but it had been made clear that boys and girls couldn't just be friends and the idea of people thinking he was dating any of these people made him feel like a caged bird.

Later that year Roman decided, despite his love for love, he didn't want to date. The reason for this being...

"I'm just more focused on my career."

"I just don't see the point in dating right now."

"I've never really liked anyone so what's the point?"

"I just like being more focused on myself."

And any other excuse he could possibly come up with, repeating them as many times as he needed to to believe them. Roman had always been a good actor, after all. But, of coarse, with this supposed decision came "reassurance" from adults, as if they had the ability to see the future.

"You just haven't met the right person, yet."

"You'll change your mind one day, when you get a bit older."

"All kids say that at your age."

"Roman isn't interested in dating YET."

These invalidating promises made Romans blood boil the more he heard them. It was as if he was yelling while trapped in a soundproof box, unable to escape. But, despite what seemingly everyone around him was saying, Roman knew deep down that romance just wasn't for him.

He also remained thankful that this love for love hadn't infected his friendship too much.

That was until seventh grade when what was originally a few cases of a love for love became an epidemic. It seemed that all anyone wanted to know was "do you have a crush on her?" "Did you hear that Lily and Reese are going out?" "Do you find her attractive?" This soon made its way over to his friends as they talked about how hot the girls were and teased each other relentlessly about who they liked. Roman once again felt like an outsider in his friend group. His friends conversations about their girlfriends may as well have been spoken in Latin.

Then the day came when his twin brother, Remus, came out as gay and started dating a guy named Janus. It then occurred to Roman.

"Maybe the reason I haven't been feeling anything for all these girls was because they were girls! Maybe I like boys instead!" Roman had never been a very logical person but this definitely seemed to make more sense. If he didn't like women then that surely must mean that he liked men instead, right? Because otherwise...otherwise Roman didn't know what that meant.

So Roman tried. Really God damn tried to find boys cute, to fantasize about dating them, to relate to gay experiences. But all he was met with was the same foreign and hollow feeling he'd felt when he lied about having a crush back in 2nd grade. Roman quickly began feeling his love for the concept of love diminish.

So when Roman entered grade 9, he decided to put anything to do with his romantic feelings (or lack there of) in a little box in the back of his mind to deal with later. Instead putting his passion and good acting skills to use by joining his schools drama department. The moment he stepped foot on stage, he felt himself come alive. The crowd, the praise, the creativity, it was addicting.

And it was only made better with the more friends he made. There was one person who he grew partially close to. Patton Heart. The two quickly became best friends, often hanging out outside of rehearsals and texting non stop. And, for the first time in what seemed like years, Roman was happy and comfortable.

That was until 10th grade. Roman way lying on his bed watching Netflix on his phone when a message from Patton came through. Roman clicked on the message and was caught massively off guard as he read it.

Patton: hey, Roman. So I've been thinking a lot lately. In particular about us and about you. And over the past few months I've started to realize that I have a really big crush on you. You're really handsome, funny and talented and I love spending time with you. It's totally ok if you don't like me back, but I figured it's better to be honest.

It should've been it. The moment when one of the main characters confesses their feelings for the love interest and they proclaim they feel the same way. Sparks fly and their hearts beat faster with excitement. It all becomes so clear when they hear that confession in movies and books.

But this wasn't a movie.

Roman felt time stand still as he read the message, his hands shaking so much he didn't think he would be able to respond even if he knew how to answer.

He couldn't breath. Why couldn't he breath?! The edges of his vision went fuzzy as he desperately gasped for air.

"Patton's great." He thought through his suffocating panic. "He's funny and charming and sweet. You should like him. Why don't you like him? What's wrong with you?!" Romans thoughts yelled as he tried desperately to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Not sure of what else to do, Roman ran to Remus' room, hoping he'd know how to respond.

Roman knocked on his brothers door and Remus responded with a very annoyed "come in" after a few beats of silence. Remus and Janus were sat on Remus' bed and Roman could tell from their slightly red lips that the two had been making out. But he wasn't in the headspace to even pretend to care that he'd interrupted them right now.

"Ugh, what do you want?" Remus said, clearly too irritated by his brothers presence to notice his distress.

"P-Patton just messaged me s-saying he likes me and I don't know what to say." Roman barely stuttered out, trying desperately not to cry in front of Remus and his boyfriend.

"Aw, cute. Roro finally got a man." Remus joked but Roman was definitely not in the mood for that kind of humor.

"Do you like him back?" Janus asked, calmly, clearly taking more notice of Romans distress.

"Well, I do. But not like that."

"Ok, so just tell him that. It doesn't have to be this whole thing. Why are you getting so upset?" Remus said, looking at Roman as if he was stupid.

Which, to be fair, Roman did feel very stupid right now.

"He's my best friend. I don't want to upset him." Yeah, that was the reason Roman was freaking out. He just didn't want to hurt Patton. That was it.

"Well, just say you don't want a relationship right now or some shit. Besides, he's probably more worried now because you've taken so long to answer." Remus pointed out. Yeah, Roman was never coming to Remus with his problems ever again.

"Yeah...ok." Roman said. Slowly, he walked out the room, noticing Janus looking at him curiously but deciding not to focus on it.

Roman: I'm really sorry Patton, but I don't feel the same way. We can still be friends tho. It doesn't have to be awkward between us. Especially because I really like being friends with you.

Patton: Yeah, that's ok. This is kinda what I was expecting to be honest. But yeah, I still wanna stay friends.

A few days later Janus came over again for dinner. Afterwards, Roman went into the living room and sat on the couch, scrolling through Instagram.

To his surprise, Janus followed after him and sat next to him. "So, how are you feeling after a few days ok. Broken his heart yet?" Janus teased.

Roman huffed out a laugh. "Uh, yeah, we agreed to just stay friends. Which I'm happy about but it's also really weird. I honestly don't know where we go from here which sucks because I really like Patton. Just not like...that." Janus nodded in understanding.

"You must care about him a lot if you had a panic attack just because you didn't want to hurt his feelings." Janus said. Roman just shrugged in response. "So, does that mean you like someone else?" Janus asked.

"No...I. I don't know. I've...I've never really liked anyone. I don't think I ever will. And people say I'll change my mind but...it isn't like I've made a choice. I've felt like this my whole life and everyone around me has had a crush on someone by now. I just... don't think I was built for romance. Which I know probably sounds stupid but that's just how I feel." He said, so honest it almost hurt.

Janus nodded slowly, taking in what Roman was saying. "It doesn't sound stupid." He said before pausing, as if considering his next choice of words. "Roman...have you ever heard of the term aromantic?" He asked.

"No." Roman answered, looking at Janus curiously.

"It basically means someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction. So they don't get crushes and stuff like that." He explained.

Roman felt his heart leap and for once it wasn't because of a fight or flight reflex. "Wait, that's a thing?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, a surprising number of people identify with it. I don't want to assume anything but I thought I might mention it just from what you've told me and what Remus has said in the past. Plus that panic on your face yesterday reminded me a bit of when I tried to force myself into romantic situations with girls." Janus smirked to himself.

That night Roman researched more on aromanticism than he did for his science test. The more he searched, the more it just made sense. Of coarse, he still had a long way to go towards self acceptance. Roman could feel himself already starting to mourn the idea that this was a choice he'd made ages ago and he was going to feel romantic love one day. It was an odd feeling, realizing that even though he knew deep down it wasn't a decision and he'd always hated when people made those comments, a part of him took comfort in adults promising that he'd change his mind one day. He was also horrified to realize that he didn't know what his future was supposed to look like now without romance. After all, media seemed to show single middle aged adults exclusively as depressed and lonely. But as he scoured through wiki articles to tumblr pages to memes, he knew this was a good start to unlearning any nonsense society had been shoving down his throat.

The more Roman learned and the more people he talked to online about it, the more he started to feel his love for love increase. But instead of it being centered on a prince and princess in a movie, two in love warriors keeping each other alive in a book or a cheesy love song on the radio, it was a different type of love Roman was finally starting to feel the more he accepted himself.

Self love.

Reblog’s >>>> likes

40 notes · View notes

asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ let’s dance ❞ s.jh

synopsis → “i’m gonna marry you.”

request → “How about Johnny fluff partying time and the concept theme is the 80s” — @heart-bleeding-autism-angel

word count → 2.5k

a/n → the amount of googling i did for this is scary .. and i still know literally nothing abt the 80’s LOL anyway the title is my fav david bowie song that happened to be released in ‘83 and it kind of fits the the fic so,,, cool :-)

the moonlight shines through your window, casting it’s heavenly glow on your face. despite the late hour, it illuminates your entire room enough that you can read the time off the clock hanging on your wall.

11:55 p.m.

if they decide to be on time, your friends should be arriving in five minutes.

you retreat from your windowsill to prepare yourself. you stop in front of your closet, staring at the array of clothing. it takes you a couple moments to pick something you liked. you, of course, wanted to impress johnny, the self proclaimed fashion evaluator, but there was no better feeling than knowing you looked good.

you settle on a cozy turtleneck and your favorite mini skirt. then you pull on a pair of tube socks and slip on your prized white sneakers. for the final touch, you slide on a thin buckle belt through the loops of your skirt to tie it all together.

you smile satisfactorily at your reflection in the mirror and what was sure to be your best outfit yet. besides being well-put together, it felt comfortable enough to move around in and you knew you would surely be doing much moving that night.

once the clock strikes midnight, you notice light flash into your room. since it’s brighter than that of the moon, you know exactly who must be behind it. even if you didn’t, the hushed chatter and giggling from outside your window gives it away. you peer down into your backyard to find sicheng and jaehyun standing there, flashlights in hand and aimed directly into your bedroom.

you hastily wave your hands at them, your face twisted with worry. they wave back at you with goofy smiles on their faces, oblivious to your concern.

“cut the lights!” you hiss as silently as you can.

they finally seem to get the hint and click them off. jaehyun shouts back, “sorry!” accompanied by a laugh sicheng has failed to contain. you wince at their volume. there was no keeping them quiet so you decide your only option is to move as fast as you possibly can.

you carefully push one leg out of your window. it dangles above the roof of the front porch and you slowly lower it onto the tile. once you’ve successfully planted half of yourself on the roof, you bring your other leg down. this action is followed by a slight creek but you don’t even bother hesitating. you crouch down to the edge of the house and repeat the previous steps, this time landing on the front steps of your porch.

“that was smooth!” jaehyun exclaims in awe.

you bring a finger to your lips but still can’t help but smile at the praise.

“you’re like a ninja,” adds sicheng. “or a cat.” he pauses, deep in thought, before concluding, “you’re a ninja cat.”

you raise a brow. “you’ve both been drinking, haven't you?”

“no.”

“yes.”

“i’m gonna have to believe jae on this one,” you say, observing the way sicheng’s eyelids droop and he slurs his words. “you couldn’t have waited ‘til we got to the club?”

he whines like a child. “i was thirsty!”

you clamp your hand over his mouth and scold him. “why do you feel the need to be so loud? do you want me to get caught?”

jaehyun hiccups. “aren’t you glad i’m an introvert? i’ll never get you in trouble.”

you laugh dryly. “sure, you’re all introverted until you find some random chick to grind on.”

he pouts. “let me have fun.”

“it’s fun until you spill your drink on her and i have to help clean—oh come on, sicheng, did you just lick me?” you remove your hand from his mouth only to find a big smile on his lips.

“perhaps.”

“god, let’s just go. where’s johnny parked?”

“end of the street.”

you go in said direction with your two friends trailing behind you, messing around all the while. the three of you only stop when you catch sight of johnny’s shiny black convertible. you approach the vehicle and when he notices you, he smiles and shoots you a wink.

“you’re such a flirt,” you comment, opening the door to the passenger's seat.

he shrugs. “but you still fell in love with me so i’d say it’s worked out pretty well up until this point.”

you’re about to respond when jaehyun interrupts. “hey, i wanted to ride shotgun!”

“me too!” agrees sicheng. “y/n always gets it!”

johnny glares at the pair through the rear view mirror. “and that’s how i like it so get in the backseat or you’re walking.”

they mumble what you assume are complaints yet still get in the car.

johnny revs up the engine but before you go anywhere he makes an announcement. “and if either of you are going to vomit again, all i ask is that you don’t do it in here. my dad just bought me this bad boy.”

a chuckle escapes your lips.

“what are you laughing about over there?”

you lean back against the headrest, smile still present. “we literally have two kids.”

“basically. but hey, there’s no one else i’d rather babysit two grown men with than you.”

“stop, i’m blushing,” you deadpan.

johnny’s shoulders shake with laughter at your sarcasm. “seriously, though! you really know how to take care of someone. one day, if i’m lucky enough, i’ll be able to see that up close.”

you know exactly what he means by that last statement—he was thinking of a future with you. the last thing you want to do is burst his bubble but you knew how your parents felt about your relationship. they thought you could do better than ‘some football player from your school’. they had friends with young, stuck up sons who, according to them, were more fit for you. despite being told countless times how happy johnny made you, they paid you no mind.

you nod, sincerely. “i hope so.”

he places his hand on your thigh, rubbing reassuring circles into your skin. you stay like that for the entire drive.

once you finally reach your destination, you leave all doubt and anxiety surrounding your relationship with johnny in the car along with any other negativity. the flashing lights and loud music you could hear even from outside the club excites you and you’re left with no choice but to discard all of your worries. you never got tired of seeing the glowing, neon sign letting you know that you had arrived at the hottest hang out spot there was—the neo zone.

as soon as you step inside, sicheng’s face contorts in displeasure. “i’m, uh, going to the bathroom.” he carelessly pushes past strangers, clutching his stomach.

you notice jaehyun has disappeared as well. before you can ask, you spot him on the dance floor, inserting himself in some line dance he obviously isn’t familiar with. his limbs move awkwardly and completely out of sync with the rest of the group. he recieves multiple strange looks and you can’t help but cringe.

“where did we go wrong with them?”

johnny’s laugh can hardly be heard over the booming bass of a song. “couldn’t tell you that, sugar. let’s just hope the next ones come out better.”

there he goes again, talking about your oh-so-promising future. you were still unsure if you would be able to grant johnny the picture perfect life he constantly spoke about. whenever he referenced it, you felt slightly guilty.

instead of acknowledging his comment, you glance around, looking anywhere but him. “want to get a drink?”

he simply nods, placing his hand in the small of your back as you weave your way through the crowd to the bar.

he leans on the counter and orders, “one long island iced tea, please.”

“you know my order?” you ask, pleasantly surprised.

“sweetheart, you get it everytime we come here. and that’s often.”

you still beam at him. “it’s still nice. you know, that you notice those things.”

“everything about you is worth noticing. besides, what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t?”

you press a quick kiss to his cheek to show him how grateful you are.

“you really have to work on your aim because you completely missed your target that time.” he teasingly taps his lips.

you roll your eyes with a giggle. “never satisfied, are you, suh?”

“you owe me, just sayin’.”

“oh yeah?”

“totally! i let you sit shotgun!”

“i was the only thing standing in the way of sicheng throwing up all over your dashboard, you should be thanking me!”

johnny presses a kiss to your lips. it’s so unexpected yet enjoyable that you can’t stop your eyes from fluttering shut in bliss. he only pulls away to take a breath of air.

he licks his lips. “how was that?”

you brush imaginary dust off your skirt. “probably the best ‘thank you’ i’ve ever received.”

“says you. i can't get enough of those lips of yours.”

you fiddle with your belt. “nobody's stopping you from getting your fill.”

“you’re going to be the death of me, young lady.”

seconds later, the bartender slides you your drink. “here’s your drink, young lady.” he gives johnny a knowing smile and not-so-subtle thumbs up. “what a pretty little thing you got there.”

you know his words aren’t meant for your ears so you avert your eyes and take small sips of your drink.

“thank you, sir. i couldn’t agree more.”

“you know, me and my wife met in this club. just like you two.”

“we’ve actually known each other for a couple years.”

the man’s eyes widen in surprise. “well, look at you. already ahead of the game. you love her?”

johnny doesn’t hesitate to nod. “very much. the only issue is her folks don’t seem to be too crazy about me. they have a long list of suitors, myself excluded.”

you frown and trace the rim of your glass. that never got any easier for you to hear.

the man nods, understandingly. “i see. well, in that case, you might have to wait. you said you love her and until you get to be together—which you will—keep loving her. that’ll make the time you spend waiting go by like this.” he snaps his fingers to prove his point.

johnny nods, a genuine smile appearing on his face. “i appreciate the advice. thank you.”

the bartender gives him a curt nod and goes back to tending to the other demanding customers.

before johnny gets a chance to say anything, you ask, “do you wanna dance with me?”

his grin widens. “always.”

you take his hand in yours and lead him to the dance floor. it’s full, as always, multiple bodies pressed up against each other. you waste no time joining in.

your hands end up on his broad shoulders, fingers toying with the hair on the nape of his neck and his grip ends up on your hips. the songs played at club neo zone always had a strong bass and energetic vibe so you both match that rhythm, moving to the intense heartbeat of the music. you gaze up at johnny, admiring his good looks even under the glow of the disco lights that colored him shades of bright pink, blue and green.

“what are you looking at, pretty girl?”

“just your face. i like it.”

he hums. “mm, i’m glad. i do too.”

“like my face?”

“no, mine.”

you shove his shoulder, playfully.

he chuckles. “you know i’m joking. you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

you suddenly find your shoes to be very interesting and stare down at them, smiling sheepishly.

“c’mon, don’t get all shy on me now.”

you giggle. “quit it.”

he glides his hands up and down your sides. “i’m serious, darling. it must’ve taken all my luck to get you.”

“i could say the same thing. there’s no one i’d rather be with than you, john.”

his dimples appear at the compliment and he goes in for a bear-like hug. he cradles your shoulders and rests his chin on top of your head as both you sway.

“i’m gonna marry you.”

you’re not sure what about this statement catches you most off guard. maybe it’s the way that there’s no teasing tone in his voice or perhaps the fact that he has decided to say this in the middle of the dance floor, of all places.

you catch your lower lip in between your teeth. “i’m sorry we have to wait.”

“i’ll wait forever, babygirl, if that’s what it takes. and so what if your parents don’t want that. if one day you’ll let me wake up next to you and have a family with you, i’ll be happy.”

you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach at his sweet words. “i can't wait.”

with the hope of a future together, you and johnny happily dance the rest of the night away. once the party dies down and the crowd shrinks with every song that passes, your bodies are left sweaty and tired. you agree it’s time to go home.

you spot jaehyun in the back of the club and it takes a lot of effort to drag him off his latest girl interest. he blows her kisses as you yank him away, promising her a phone call in the morning. you’re pretty sure he’s lying.

sicheng is found passed out in the restroom, snoring heavily.

“has he been here this whole time?” you ask with a grunt as you attempt to hoist him up.

johnny shrugs as he helps you lift. “i find it's better to not ask questions.”

you nod in agreement. “fair.”

the car ride is silent mostly thanks to sicheng being knocked out. jaehyun sits quietly as well, staring out the window. johnny decides to drop them off first. you stop in front of the jung residence. as you watch the brunette struggle to open the door with one hand and hold sicheng’s unconscious figure in the other, you can’t help but wonder, “is it really a good idea to leave him with jae? i mean, that’s like telling a toddler to look after an infant.”

“if i left him at his house i’m pretty sure his old man would ground him for the rest of his life. jae’s folks are always out of town.”

with that reassurance, you drive off, your next destination being your house. johnny parks exactly where he did at the beginning of the night, just to be safe.

he rests his hands on the steering wheel. “want me to walk you?”

you shake your head. “that’s alright. if i get caught, i’d rather it not be with you. i’d never hear the end of it.”

“yeah, i get it. one day, though, we won’t have to worry about it.” as if to promise you his words are true, he hands you his letterman jacket. it was his prized possession and he was never seen without it. “here, take this. wear it when i can't be with you.”

you nod, clutching the clothing item close to your chest. “i will.”

he leans over as far as his seatbelt allows him to give you the last kiss of the night. it ends too fast for the both of you. you exit his car and walk down the sidewalk towards your house.

johnny watches you through his rear view mirror and smiles to himself when he catches you pull on his jacket.

361 notes · View notes

out-of-jams · 4 years

Text

One Chance || myg

(Amazing, incredibly badass banner made by @kimtaehyunq )

↠ One Chance ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project.

And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

A/n: Hey all you cool cats and kittens. Hope you’re all staying safe out there! I wasn’t intending to write this, but I had no other choice.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

| | Navigation | |

Min Yoongi.

The name stared up at you in size twelve font, black letters printed onto the white sheeted paper. Every other word on the page blurred around the edges as you tried to place a face to the name. You weren’t good with names, never had been. So with a sigh, you leaned to the side and mumbled to the girl sitting next to you in class.

“Hey, who’s Min Yoongi?”

She--Mira? Mina? something like that--glanced up from her portfolio opened up on the desk and shot you a disbelieving look. You couldn’t blame her, not really. It was nearing the end of the semester and your vocal class had worked with the music production class multiple times throughout the course of the year. Neither class was very big, so you probably should have known the names of all twenty students. Total. Ten in each class.

But hey, in your defense you’d had a lot on your plate, seeing as how you were about to graduate from university and all. Which was a pretty big deal, so memorizing the names of people you only saw a few times ever-so-often wasn’t high up on your list of priorities.

But Min Yoongi.

You recognized him the moment you saw the soft outline of his profile through the glass window of the studio door a day later. He had his attention trained on whatever was on his laptop screen, pale hand sliding across the mousepad. His dark brows were pinched in concentration and you could see the tip of his tongue digging into the side of his cheek.

Even though the overly-bright lights in the room were on, the guy still somehow managed to blend in with the slate grey walls. Hell, his icy blond hair was the only color to stand out amongst all the black clothing. The oversized hoodie and black joggers he wore looked comfortable, and had you glancing down at your own outfit self-consciously. Had the sweater, skirt and high heeled boots combo been too much? Should you have dressed down a little?

Whatever. It was too late now.

Watching him through the door made you feel like some kind of stalking creep, but you couldn’t help it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times and recognized him from whenever your classes joined together and was a little disappointed at yourself for not recognizing his name. Even though you'd never spoken a word to him before, you were a little apprehensive about being partnered together. Min Yoongi had a reputation, and not a very good one. Sure, he was talented at what he did, producing music, to the point where a lot of people in the music department called him a genius. But he was known for being standoffish. Rude. And could cut someone down with a few words from his naturally pouty lips.

You didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, or by the rumors that circulated about them. However, that did nothing for the intimidating aura that bled from the man like cologne the second you stepped foot into the room.

He didn’t even pause in whatever he was doing to spare you a glance. Just announced in a dry, rumbling voice, “You’re late.”

“Uh.” You hesitated halfway into the room, the door swinging shut behind you automatically. Two seconds in and he already hated you. Great. “Sorry. I got lost.”

That made him look up and watch as you pulled the only other rolling chair back from the desk and plopped down. God, his eyes were just as daunting as the rest of him: onyx in color and cat-like in shape, they were bottomless as he blinked at you lazily. And he slowly raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You got lost.” Yoongi repeated slowly. So sarcastically that you didn’t even hear a question mark at the end of it. “Aren’t you about to graduate? How are you still getting lost on campus?”

Your mouth opened and closed, embarrassed heat blossoming across your cheeks. You were blushing hard and you knew it, but that sure as hell didn’t mean that you had to acknowledge it. So you just sniffed and dug through your backpack for an excuse to break eye contact. “I haven’t been in here before.”

It was true. In a way. The hall of studios that you were in now were for the senior music production students. There was a completely different area for each year, but each student had their own assigned as theirs for the semester. So you weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t been to his exact studio before.

Which he seemed to catch on to, if the way Yoongi’s second eyebrow raised to join the first told you anything. But he let it go and turned back to shut his laptop, which you could now see was opened to a music production app. You weren’t very schooled on how to operate it, but even you could tell that he seemed to be very far into whatever it was he was making.

Though you didn’t get a good enough look at it before he closed it.

“Even though we have a month to do this, we should figure out what kind of song we’re making now instead of later.” Yoongi stated in that gruff voice of his and clicked a few things on his laptop. “Since you’re the one singing, you’ll be setting the tone--”

“Wait.” You interrupted.

Yoongi stopped whatever it was he was about to say to give you a blank look, the corners of his lips turned down. “What?”

Clearing your throat, you continued on despite the way his expression tried to cow you into shutting up. “How’re we splitting this up?”

A valid question. Not every person who created music worked in the same way. Some liked to do things a completely different way than somebody else might’ve. Last time you’d worked with one of the students from the music production class, the two of you had butted heads the whole way. He hadn’t wanted to hear your input at all, and you weren’t about to be shoved off to the side like some kind of un-opinionated mouthpiece again.

Yoongi made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a hum. “I normally make the track and leave the lyrics up to the singer unless they need help.”

He looked at you from out of the corner of his eye as he clicked a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him to bring the giant monitor above the control panel to life. “Can you write?”

“Yes.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about it.

“Good. You’ll take care of that then.” Yoongi slid a blank yellow notepad into the empty space on the control panel between you. “Though we’ll need to do the melody before that.”

The next time the two of you met was almost a week later. It’d been sometime late in the afternoon when you both finally had time in your schedules. Because for some stupid reason, even though both of your classes were combined to work on the project, it had to be done outside of class.

Ugh.

As if you didn’t already have enough things to stress over. Like say, securing a job for after graduation.

During the first meeting between the two of you, you’d already decided on what kind of song you wanted to make. Something upbeat, but not over the top, though not boring either. You weren’t a huge fan of sounding like every other music artist out there and apparently Yoongi had felt the same. So it’d been easy to come up with.

He’d texted over a few ideas for the concept and you’d been pleasantly surprised at how serious he took it. At how complex and layered the ideas he’d come up with were. They were a lot better than anything you could have ever dreamed up and you were beyond astonished.

Especially when he met you outside of his studio door, blond hair was secured back off his forehead by a white headband, and greeted you with, “I finished the track.”

“Already?” Shock was clear in your voice and you watched open mouthed as he unlocked the door and held it open for you to follow him inside. The lights flickered on overhead, but you were too busy staring at his back to notice. “That was quick, holy shit.”

Yoongi shrugged off your awe and wiggled the mouse to bring his computer to life. “It was no big deal. And now we can work on the melody.”

Still gaping at the blond, you shuffled forward to drop your bag next to your chair. “Okay. Um. Where should we start?”

Pulling out his chair, he sat down and lazily dragged the mouse over to open up his production software. “Listen to it first and let me know if you want to make any changes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You plopped down into your own chair and watched as he pressed play.

The music that poured from the expensive speakers started off slowly until it tapered off into what you assumed would be the first chorus. And you found yourself unconsciously tapping your fingers against your thigh when the bridge finally hit, you had to bite your lip to contain an excited smile. The moment it ended, you twisted in your chair to see that he was already looking at you. Though he kept his face blank, you could literally see question lingering behind those cat-like eyes of his.

“Mm.” You hummed, nodding your head and trying your damnedest to keep the grin from your face.

When you failed to say anything more, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“Mm.” You finally let the smile touch your lips. “I really liked it. It’s good.”

“Yeah?” He reached out to stop the track from replaying on a loop. “Any changes?”

“Nah. I like it just the way it is.”

“Alright.” Was what he responded with, but you could tell that he was pleased beneath that hard exterior of his. “The melody then.”

“The melody.” You agreed.

Min Yoongi was extremely anal when it came to anything he attached his name to.

That was probably why he had so many music companies vying for his attention. Not only did he produce nothing short of perfect tracks, but he’d even made some cash on the side selling some of them. Or so you’d heard through the grapevine.

Which was exactly why you were left staring at the blank notebook settled across your crossed legs. The pen in your hand had yet to put ink to the blank pages hours after you’d gotten home. All because some guy intimidated the hell out of you.

Most of the songs you wrote were fine. But that was the problem.

Min Yoongi didn’t do fine. And you had no doubt in your mind that he’d tear your work to absolute shreds should you present him something lackluster. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to jump the gun and tell him you’d be fine writing by yourself.

It was way too late now.

“How long are you going to stare like that?”

Snapping out of your self-degrading thoughts, you turned to look over your shoulder. Jennie, your ever present roommate, was standing behind the couch shoving spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. By the lack of makeup on her face and the messy bun her long black hair was thrown up into, she was more than likely about to go to bed.

“Stare like what?” You asked with a poorly concealed pout, pulling out your earbuds that’d been playing the track on a constant loop.

“Like you’re constipated or something.” Jennie waved her spoon at you before dipping it back into the bowl to scoop up more soggy cereal. “Project really giving you that much trouble?”

She didn’t necessarily know exactly what was going on with you, not exactly. Sure, she knew that you were partners with Yoongi and had been spending a lot of time with the man for the project. But she didn’t know just how much pressure you were under. Self-inflicted or not.

“These lyrics are kicking my ass.” Groaning, you leaned to the side until you were sprawled out on the couch.

“Why?” Jennie rested her arms against the back of it, bowl of milk and cereal hovering over you dangerously. “They don’t normally.”

She had a point. It wasn’t usually so difficult to write a damn song, but you also didn’t usually have a perfectionist genius as a partner. Instead of saying that though, you just threw your arms over your face. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this, ‘ya know? I should drop out while I still can.”

“O-kay.” You could hear her exasperated eye roll. “Don’t stress so much about it. You know, whenever you’re done being overdramatic.”

Jennie successfully dodged the couch pillow you chucked after fleeing footsteps. A buzz from your phone had you reaching for it blindly and the text on the screen had you burying your face into the cushions.

Min Yoongi: you free tomorrow?

Y/n: yeah. Same time?

His response came in not even five seconds later.

Min Yoongi: works for me

“So, see you tomorrow?” The question left your lips as you packed your stuff back into your bag. You still hadn’t been able to come up with any lyrics. At least none good enough to show your partner. So while you’d both been in the studio, you’d busied yourself trying to write and Yoongi had been doing whatever it was that he did.

He’d just powered down the computer he’d been working on and shook his head without looking at you. “I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”

“Oh, really?” That came as a surprise. The fact that there was something or someone out there that could force the Min Yoongi to ditch working on a song. “What kind of plans?”

Ever since you’d showed up with food two weeks ago, he’d been a little more amicable towards you. Not as closed off. Which, of course, only led to you bringing some with you every day. Maybe food being the way to a man’s heart really applied to every man. Nonetheless, with the way the two of you would banter back and forth without heat made you hope that it wasn’t just you who considered him a friend.

Yoongi paused, only for a moment, but he paused all the same in throwing his bag over his shoulder before he answered. “I...have a show.”

“A show?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you stood up. That was the last thing you would have expected to leave his mouth. “What kind of show?”

“It’s not the type of show you’d want to watch.” He headed for the door and you scrambled to follow after him.

Leaning against the wall while he locked up the door, you folded your arms across your chest. “Why? You a stripper or something?”

Yoongi didn’t even spare you a look, just pocketed his keys and started down the hallway, apparently assuming that you’d follow. “You saying I wouldn’t be a good stripper?”

He’d assumed correctly. Your legs raced to catch up. “I never said that. You insinuated that all by yourself.”

An amused scoff passed his lips, but that was all you got in response. You weren’t about to letter the matter drop though. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A stripper.”

A pause. And then Yoongi met your sparkling gaze and shook his head with a huffing laugh. “No, I’m not a stripper.”

“Well, if your show isn’t anything rated NC-18, then can I go?”

“Why would you want to go?”

His question had you sending him a hesitant look. “Because we’re friends, aren't we?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “If I say no, will you stop asking?”

You pretended to think for a minute before clicking your tongue. “Nope.”

He looked over at you, feline eyes squinting in contemplation. As much as Min Yoongi liked to act like he came across as aloof, he was a lot easier to read than he probably thought. And he must have found whatever it was he was looking for, because his thoughtful pout turned into a careless shrug.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“Sweet.” You grinned up at him and finally let him go on his merry way.

It was difficult to find a parking spot. You’d had to loop around the block at least ten times before you were finally able to squeeze your car into a space between two giant SUVs. The spot wasn’t exactly close to where you were supposed to meet Yoongi, but it was the best you could do.

When he’d texted you the address, you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little apprehensive at first. It was located on the outskirts of downtown where you’d never been before. Because the further out you went from the center of the city, the more dangerous it got.

Y/n: I’m here.

You sent the text off to Yoongi and cut the car engine. Throwing a glance at the clock on the dash, you silently thanked yourself for leaving a bit early in order to get there in time. The sun had long gone down and the moon had taken its place, so the streets were dark. Only lit up by the street lamps and lights that bled from apartment windows. Most of the businesses were closed for the night, the corner store half a block down was the only one still open.

You had about six blocks to walk and was just about to get out of your car when your phone started vibrating in your hand.

“Hello?” You answered the call, voice pitched with barely concealed amusement.

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice was even deeper over the phone, if that were possible. And you could hear the sounds of cars driving past him in the background.

You rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “I told you that I’m here.”

He sighed into the phone and you just knew that he was making a face. “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Like, parked a few blocks away.” You popped your car door open, turning back to the passenger seat to grab your bag. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Stay where you are.” Yoongi demanded and you raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come get you.”

“You don’t have to.” You huffed a laugh. “I have two legs, ‘ya know.”

“Really? Never noticed.” In the background, voices blended in with the sound of cars. “This neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest. So just tell me where you are so I can make sure you don’t get stabbed or something.”

“‘Stabbed or something?’” It was difficult to hide your amusement now, but you obeyed and got back inside your car anyway, letting him know what street you were on. “My knight in shining armor, you say the most romantic things.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. You knew he did. “Nevermind. Maybe I’ll just let you get stabbed while I make my escape.”

The bark of laughter that left you was impossible to contain. “I could run faster than you and you know it. So try me.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah okay. You wouldn't--”

A click told you that yes, he would. And you were left staring down at your phone with open mouthed disbelief. How dare he? You were just about to call him back and tell him as much, when a knock on your car window had you jumping with a small shriek.

Yoongi stood right outside your door with his fist still raised and a gummy grin on his pouty lips. You just stuck your tongue out at him childishly and grabbed your bag before slipping out of your car. “You’re a bully.”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his dark colored jeans and shrugged. “Would a bully walk all the way over here to make sure you don’t get robbed?”

Now it was your turn to shrug, taking him in and pretending not to see his onyx eyes slide down your body. Yoongi was dressed casually like usual. With a plain white t-shirt and a black zip up jacket thrown over it, he pulled it off like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. How in the hell he always managed to do that was a mystery to you. And you knew you didn’t compare to him, even with your high-waisted white joggers and grey crop top.

Whatever. It wasn’t like it was bright enough outside to matter anyway.

“That sounds exactly like something a robber would say.” You flicked your hair over your shoulder and took off down the cracked sidewalk, making sure to lock your car behind you.

“Not like there’d be much to steal.” Yoongi’s voice caught up to you right as he did, walking side by side with the occasional brushing of his shoulder against yours.

You responded to his playful jab by lightly smacking his arm. “Careful there. Keep saying such poetic words and you’ll make me fall in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He went quiet, but you could feel him looking at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze was a weight that burned through you, a light shining through the night.

The rest of the walk passed by pretty quickly, especially when nobody jumped out of an alleyway to rob you at knifepoint. Whether or not that was because of the man walking at your side, or something else, it didn’t matter. Not when the building you were headed to for the night popped up in the distance.

It looked like any other building on the street, with rough brick siding and a glowing red and green sign advertising the bar. Situated on the corner, you were just about to head inside when Yoongi’s hand caught your arm.

“It’s this way.” He answered your confused look by tugging you gently down the alleyway right next to the bar.

“But I thought it was inside.” You glanced back behind you before looking back towards the dead ended alley.

Yoongi dropped his hand from your arm. “It is.”

“Ah, makes sense.” You nodded sarcastically, successfully drawing a smile from your escort.

“Be patient and you’ll see.”

True to his word, you saw what he meant when he came to a stop outside of a side door. There weren’t any signs or anything indicated what it led to, but you could take a guess as Yoongi pulled it open and gestured for you to enter first.

It was dark inside and you had to squint in the dim lighting in order to see anything. You were in what appeared to be some kind of entrance that reminded you of one of the speakeasies downtown. Though there wasn’t a soul in sight, just a staircase at the end of the short hall. Unless you counted the loud base of music pounding through your feet and straight to your bones. The door slammed shut behind Yoongi and then he was taking the lead towards the stairs.

The further down you went, the louder the music got until it was all you could hear. And once you got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the room, you found out why. Bodies were packed wall-to-wall, some moving to the music pouring from the speakers and others nodding their heads with drinks in their hands. Red and purple lights made the room seem bigger than it actually was, made it easier to lose yourself in the crowd.

Yoongi had taken you to an underground club. Which just made you all the more curious about just what kind of show he was going to be performing in.

“Want a drink?” Yoongi’s voice, even though spoken directly in your ear, was barely distinguishable from the lyrics bleeding through the room.

You simply nodded, taking care not to bash your head into his nose from where he was leaning over for you to hear him. He said something you couldn’t hear, words lost to the crowd. But you assumed he wanted you to follow him when he started to merge himself into the throngs of people. Just when you thought that you’d have to try and fight your way through to keep up with him, he was reaching back to grab your hand.

Wrapped his slender fingers around yours without sparing you a second look.

He was just trying to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Yeah, that was it. There was no other reason for it, so therefore your heart had no reason to speed up. To thump in time with the bass as you followed behind him. Especially when the warmth from his palm slid into yours.

“What do you want?” Yoongi turned back to speak in your ear. Shit, you hadn’t even realized that you’d already reached the packed bar. So you forced yourself to focus on the two bartenders running around behind it, rather than the hand still in yours.

“Tequila.” You answered. Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise before turning back to the bar. With his eyes no longer on you, it made breathing a whole lot easier. And you turned your attention away from Yoongi’s slim back and towards the stage.

It was all the way on the other side of the room and you watched as a guy walked across it with a mic in his hands. The music was lowered and his voice cracked to life through the speakers. Whatever announcement he was making went in one ear and out the other because Yoongi turned back around with a plastic cup extended out towards you. His other hand was empty and you sent him a questioning look.

Whether or not he knew what you were silently asking, or was just making a general announcement, he answered your question. “I have to perform soon.”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth and accepted the drink with a smile in thanks. “You still haven’t told me what you’re gonna be doing.”

You had to stand on your tippy-toes in order for Yoongi to hear you, which didn’t go unnoticed by him if the amused gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. “You’ll see.”

Which was exactly how you found yourself with another drink in your hands and your back leaning against the bar. If you were being completely honest, you hadn’t been sure what to expect. A lot of different things had popped into your mind about what kind of shows your partner liked to put on. Some ranging from completely ridiculous, to weird, to funny.

But none of them had been this.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A talented producer, a deep thinker, a musical genius.

Never would you have thought to add “rapper” to the list. You should have known, was a little surprised at yourself for not being able to guess. Like all other things Min Yoongi, he was incredibly good at it. Took to the stage like a natural. And you were completely awestruck, unable to look away the whole time he was up on that stage, letting words flow from his lips like some kind of poetic river.

Calm, yet bubbling over with the effortless way he captured the attention of everyone in the room. The track he rapped over was fast paced, but he had no trouble keeping up and keeping the crowd engaged at the same time. He performed three songs, but it wasn’t enough. And judging by the one last look at the crowd Yoongi took before exiting the stage, it wasn’t enough for him either.

Whoever took his place didn’t have one ounce of your attention. And maybe that was rude or whatever, but you didn’t care. Not when you caught sight of his blond head making its way towards you. He got stopped multiple times along the way by people congratulating him with pats on the back or short conversations.

By the time Yoongi finally made his way back to your side, your second drink was extended out to him with a grin on your face. You’d barely even taken a sip from it, so it was completely full and beginning to sweat water. “That was amazing!”

The performer on stage was loud, but you could tell that Yoongi heard you by the smile he tried and failed to hide behind the rim of the plastic cup. But you weren’t going to leave it at that, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and squeezing to make sure you got your point across. “Like, incredibly amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could rap like that?”

“You never asked.” He shrugged. Yoongi wasn’t the type of person to feed off of compliments, you knew that. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate them. The way his onyx colored eyes glittered told as much. And when he tilted the plastic cup back and drained the contents, the confidence that flowed beneath his skin gave it away too. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, young padawan.”

A snort of amusement from the passenger side of your car had you throwing Yoongi a wink. He completely ignored you in favor of thumbing through the playlist on your phone. It was hooked up to the radio via bluetooth and ever since you’d left the underground club, he’d been focused on silently judging you for your music choices.

When Yoongi had suggested bailing on the club, he hadn’t really had a particular place in mind. Which you’d soon figured out the moment you stepped out the door. He’d taken the subway to the place, so you’d all but shoved him into your car before he had a chance to say no.

“You really have Ariana Grande on here?” He wiggled your phone in your peripheral and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t too busy merging off the freeway.

“What’s wrong with Ari?” You huffed in mock offense.

“Nothing.”

“I can literally hear the judgement in your voice.”

“Maybe you should focus on the road then.”

Now you really did roll your eyes. Though the bark of laughter that accompanied it showed your lack of annoyance. “I would if we weren’t already here.”

Yoongi looked up from your phone just as you were putting the car into park. His eyes squinted into the dark with a furrow of his eyebrows. “We’re at the beach?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ and turned off your car, quickly hopping out before you could fall victim to his flatline stare.

The scent of sea salt lingered in the semi-humid air and you paused for a moment to inhale deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of the ocean, and when the passenger side door opened and closed, you rounded the car to wave Yoongi along. He caught up to you right as your shoe hit the wooden planks of the boardwalk. You’d had to park way back in one of the lots far away from the beach for whatever godforsaken reason.

Shopfronts, closed and shuttered by metal grates due to the late hour, greeted you as you walked down the path. And Yoongi’s presence at your side was calming. Hell, everything about that man was. Never would you have thought that about him, not at first. Not with the rocky way your friendship had started.

Neither would you have expected the warmth that bloomed in your chest everytime he looked at you with those pretty eyes of his. Or flashed you one of his patented gummy smiles. He’d somehow wormed a place into your heart with that sarcastic wit of his. No, the last thing you would have expected from your final project was this.

But you didn’t mind. Even if he didn’t feel the same way, only looked at you like a friend, you didn’t mind. Because you’d take anything he offered you. And if a friendship was all he was willing to give, that was okay too.

“Where are we going exactly?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you glanced up at him to see that he was already looking at you.

“Do we need to have a destination?” You shot back with a wiggle of your eyebrows. “It’s all in the journey.”

He rolled his eyes skyward as if silently asking why me, but let a smile touch his lips anyway “And this journey leads to the beach I’m guessing?”

“Maybe.” You dragged out the syllables, nudging your shoulder with his playfully. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the beach.”

“Who doesn’t like the beach?”

“That’s exactly what I’m--whoa.” Your feet came to a halt right as you stepped out from between two shops, where the boardwalk met the beach. Yoongi stopped at your side, but you didn’t even notice.

Because you were too busy staring at the apparent concert that was being held further down the beach. Apparently the loud music you’d heard from the parking lot wasn’t from one of the many speakers placed throughout the boardwalk. Well, that would explain the lack of parking at least.

Even from where the two of you stood, you could tell that the crowd was huge. They took up a big chunk of the beach, bodies nothing but a dark mass in the distance as they danced to the music from the stage. You couldn’t tell who it was, not that far away. But the multicolored lights flashed into the sky like a beacon.

“I wonder who’s performing.” Yoongi’s mumble had you bending down to unlace your shoes. “What’re you doing?”

“You wanna know who’s performing?” Slipping off your socks, you threw both those and your shoes into your bag. Once it was closed up, you sent Yoongi a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s go find out.”

He didn’t move, just gave you a look before realization dawned on his face. “You want to sneak in.”

It was a statement, not a question, but you nodded your head anyway. “Come on, when will you ever have the chance to do something like this again. Don’t tell me you’re scared we’ll get caught.”

Yoongi scoffed, but leaned down to slip off his shoes in an uncharacteristic move. You knew he wasn’t much of a partier and didn’t do things like this very often. So the fact that he was caving to your suggestion had your mind whirling. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“At what?”

A smirk was thrown your way as he stood back up, but that was all the answer you got. After all the time you’ve spent with the man, you’d like to consider yourself a Yoongi Whisperer. So that smirk probably meant something along the lines of: I’m surprised that you’re a super awesome badass.

Or something.

“Just come on.” You grabbed his hand without thinking, dragging him behind you onto the sand. When he failed to complain, you took that as a greenlight to continue doing so.

When his fingers linked themselves with yours, it took all you had to not falter in your steps. To pretend like you weren’t affected by such a thoughtless action. To calm the rapid beating of your heart.

The closer you got to the concert, the louder the music got, until you could hear the roar of the crowd over the artist on stage. It was EDM, or at least sounded like it. Of course, as soon as you got closer, you spotted your first hurdle. One you’d been unable to see from far away.

A chain link fence stood between the two of you and a night of fun. It had your shoulders deflating before you even realized it, and you turned to the blond at your side. “Should we climb it or something?”

Biting your lip, you eyed just how far up it was. Even if the two of you managed to climb it, there was no way that you wouldn’t be spotted by security. And being arrested was the last thing on your to-do list.

“Or.” Yoongi crossed over to the fence and wrapped his hands along the bottom of it. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was looking, he lifted it up and back, bending it backwards with just enough space left at the bottom for someone to squeeze underneath.

There was no way that he would have been strong enough on his own to lift it, and a closer look had you snorting a laugh. Apparently the two of you weren’t the only ones who’d had the idea to sneak in.

“You going?” He questioned and you started forward before a smartass remark could leave his mouth.

The sand was cool beneath your body as you shimmied underneath the space between the fence and the ground. And once you were on the other side, you crouched down and grabbed the fence from Yoongi to pull back towards your side. “I’m surprised that you’re going along with this, to be honest. Don’t you hate music like this?”

He grunted as he crawled across the sand towards you. “You wanted to.”

“So?” Your voice was soft, but he was still able to hear you over the pounding bass. The fence dropped from your fingers once he was on your side, but you didn’t move, just stared up at him as he stood.

“So.” Yoongi started, extending a hand down to help you up. “Are you coming?”

His answer had warmth blossoming in your chest and a tiny smile blooming on your face. Had you reaching out to let him help you up off the sand. He didn’t let go while you brushed yourself off, but he did guide the both of you towards the writhing crowd, if only to avoid being spotted by security.

It was a good thing that Yoongi was a slim man, because it made slipping through the numerous dancing bodies closer towards the stage a whole lot easier. You’d made it to about the middle when he stopped and tugged you closer to join him in a pocket of space between two different groups of people. The scent of marijuana mixed in with sea salt from the ocean in a cocktail that usually accompanied things like that.

“Dance with me.” You spoke into Yoongi’s ear, ignoring the excited flush you felt at being so close to him.

“I can’t dance.” He stated, despite the hand he slipped around your waist and pressed into your back. Whether or not to move you out of the range of the group of girls dancing wildly behind you, or something else, you didn’t know.

Chest to chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. “Mm. I don’t believe you. Everyone can dance.”

“That’s a lie.” Yoongi’s lips were titled up at the corners and his gaze on you was soft. Gentle.

The flashing lights on the stage flickered through his dark colored eyes. Turned those once pools of onyx into a glittering galaxy that you couldn’t look away from. That hypnotized you like the beat that pulsed beneath your skin and drowned your ears.

“That’s not true.” Your mumble was lost to the crowd. Buried somewhere underneath the music as he moved closer. And the butterflies nestled deep in your gut fluttered their wings when his other hand cupped the side of your face.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours and his breath fanned across your cheek. That was the only warning you got before his mouth was on yours. His lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he liked to wear. And the kiss, like everything Min Yoongi, was slow. Not in a lazy way. More like he was taking the time to savor it. To remember what your hair felt like as he slid his hand into it.

Or the way you involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip. How your fingers found their way into the short hairs at the nape of his neck when you pulled him closer. How he’d had to hold back a laugh at the way you were standing on your tippy-toes in order to reach him.

You probably wouldn’t have pulled away and neither would he, if it weren’t for the rain that suddenly tore from the sky like an opened dam. Drenching anything and everything around it faster than you could blink. It had you forcing yourself away from the magnetizing pull of Yoongi’s lips to give him an eye crinkling smile.

“What was that for?” You didn’t care if you were getting wet.

Neither did he apparently, because he ran a thumb over the lips he’d just kissed, sending shivers down your spine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Break it down for me.”

He met your imploring gaze almost bashfully, eyes squinting from the rain. “I’ve liked you since practically the beginning of the semester.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know how.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you, Min Yoongi.”

He opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off by a loud clap of thunder. Both of you glanced up at the dark sky at the same time.

Everyone around you was either ignoring the torrential downpour or shrieking and attempting to use anything to shield themselves from getting wet. Once the sound of thunder echoed a streak of lightning, you knew what was about to happen next and turned to meet Yoongi’s eyes. He, like everyone else, was drenched and his blond hair stuck to the damp skin of his face. It had you grinning at the pout on his mouth and you leaned forward to press your lips to his one final time before pulling away.

“We should get out of here before everyone else decides to do the same.” You had to shout to be heard over both the rain and the noise from everything else. It was only a matter of time before the concert got either canceled or postponed due to the thunderstorm and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Yoongi wiped water from his eyes and grabbed your hand to start navigating the hell out of there.

And as your eyes trained themselves to his slim back and your fingers interlocked themselves with his, you smiled. The lyrics that you’d been struggling so hard to write came to life beneath the fire in your chest. You had no one but the man in front of you to thank for the inspiration.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a poet, a light in a sea of darkness.

Min Yoongi was nothing if not beautiful.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #yoongi #yoongi fic #r yoongi

491 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 3 years

Text

The Best of 2020

Better late, than never. I enjoy seeing other people’s top-10 lists and I said I’d do one for 2020, so here we go. I haven’t had the chance to watch EVERYTHING I wanted to, but you’ve got to pull the trigger at some point. When the Academy Awards took place on Sunday, I felt like I hadn’t seen ANYTHING nominated but I could remember dozens of times where I felt like I wasted my precious minutes with cinematic detritus. I assumed putting this list together would be easy. It wasn’t. I’ve got a lot of runner ups but for now, here are my Top 10 “Best” (by which I kind of mean my favorite) movies of 2020:

10. Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Never Rarely Sometimes Always gave me a lot to think about. On the surface, it's about a teenager who has to travel outside of her hometown to get an abortion, but it could've been any kind of procedure she's uncomfortable (or unable) asking her parents for. It's about the lengths she has to go to when her main source of support is cut off. You feel uneasy throughout, wondering what lengths the girls will have to resort through and whether something horrible is just around the corner. For this reason, I think many parents would find the film enriching.

9. Mank

I haven’t posted my review of Mank yet - just haven't had the time so consider my star rating for it "spoiled". If you don't know, it's about Herman J. Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman) and the time he wrote Citizen Kane for Orson Welles. I can’t call Citizen Kane one of my favorite films, but I do often think of it. The story, the characters, specific shots, the overall look, etc. Every time I revisit it in my memory, my appreciation for it grows and in a way, Mank helps complete my relationship with the film. For that reason, I foresee myself revisiting Mank in the future - probably as part of a double-bill. I’d love to see it enough times to memorize some of Gary Oldman’s best lines.

8. One Night in Miami

One Night in Miami addresses the present while being set in the past but something about it clicked with me more than Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. It's essentially a series of long conversations, the kinds that force you to really examine tough questions and see these legendary figures as normal people. Unlike Mank, it isn't so much the individual lines that stand out, it's more the vibes you get from the exchanges. Out of all the movies on this list, it's probably got the best ensemble cast.

7. Sound of Metal

I'm sure you've seen that clip from Un Chien Andalou where an eye gets sliced with a razor? It gives me the willies just thinking about it because if I were blind I wouldn't be able to watch movies or draw. In Sound of Metal, we're dealing with a career cut short because of deafness but the dots are easy to connect. I immediately connected with this movie, which made its ending feel like a punch in the gut.

6. Tenet

I keep telling myself that I won’t love a movie Christopher Nolan directs just because his name is attached to it. Hopefully, this doesn't make me a fanboy, despite my falling for pretty much everything he's released. I love how ambitious Tenet is. The plot is so complicated but then again it isn't because once you're able to grok the mechanics of its reverse-entropy technology, you'll probably figure out most of the plot's mysteries. For me, that was the fun part. It felt good to see my understanding of the story and theories confirmed. I'll be watching it again once groups can gather so my friends and I can discuss everything in detail.

5. Trial of the Chicago Seven

I know The Trial of the Chicago Seven fudges history in ways certain people would say is irredeemable but I never go into a film “based on true events” assuming liberties won’t be taken. At the end of the day, I care about being entertained. My enjoyment was also amplified by the fact that I didn't know what the verdicts would be - my American history is spotty, at best. It's got laughs, outrage, drama, and inspirational moments. Aside from romance, you've got pretty much all the bases covered.

4. Palm Springs

Out of all the pleasant surprises of 2020, Palm Springs was the biggest. I thought the Groundhog Day thing was played out and the 0-star-worthy Love Wedding Repeat did nothing to convince me otherwise. Then, this movie comes along and does everything you want in one of those movies, and then some. Not only did Palm Springs give me the romantic comedy I'd been craving for (feels like we haven't gotten a good one since "Crazy Rich Asians" it also examines what love and relationships mean through smartly written metaphors.

3. Possessor

No, I didn’t put this movie on the list just because it’s Canadian; Possessor is on this list because it’s the most unsettling movie of 2020. I mean that in a good way. I've already talked about how unsettling the premise is but it's also the execution. Those bizarre “dream” scenes with the different identities merging in unnatural ways is unforgettable. That mask of Tasya's face, half-melted is already creepy enough, when worn by Christopher Abbott as he re-enacts her memories is just so weird it makes you wonder if you’re actually seeing what you’re seeing, or if you’re going mad. Then, there's that shot with the fingers at the end! Makes me wince just thinking about it.

2. Soul

During the Oscars, I get a little mad at Pixar. They effortlessly churn out these masterpieces that mean no other studio has a chance of winning an Academy Award for the Best Animated Film category. It makes me wonder if the voters even bother to watch the competition but I don't think anyone could argue against Soul. It's among their best films. It’s gorgeous, profound, and modern without showcasing any issues that might flush your day down the toilet.

Runner-Ups:

Enola Holmes

I never believed Enola Holmes would end up on my "Best of the Year" list but this movie is a lot of fun. If you haven't seen it yet, you should. Just wanted to remind you.

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) I was disappointed when audiences didn’t seem interested in Birds of Prey. Seeing Margot Robbie go all-out and given a script that actually makes good use of her character was lots of fun. I also found it refreshing to see a superhero movie (not really, but kind of) that didn’t involve a plot to destroy the world, upheaval all of civilization, or shoot a giant beam into the sky. I think this is one people will discover down the line and go “why didn’t I go see this in theaters when it was playing?”

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm I’m not 100% in love with Borat 2 but boy am I looking forward to showing it to people who have no idea what’s coming. That scene with Rudy Guliani might not have the same impact down the line as it did when I first saw this sequel, but that’s ok. It’ll still have you picking your jaw off the floor.

Nomadland It’s a great movie and I might’ve put it on my list of the best… but I just don’t see myself watching this one again anytime soon. Great movie though. It deserves every accolade you see directed towards it. Chloé Zhao is shaping up to be a major talent. While before I might’ve said “Eternals who?” Now, I’m excited.

The Vast of Night Until I saw Possessor, this was my favorite horror film of 2020. I love the way this movie does so much without showing anything. It’s all about letting your imagination do the work.

Hamilton I’m still unsure how I feel about the casting in Hamilton. Everyone does a terrific job. I understand why actors of color were chosen to portray the historical figures we meet during this story. It still doesn't sit 100% comfortable with me. Then again, who can argue with those results? I’ve seen the movie twice and the songs are still playing in my head.

1. Promising Young Woman

I only had so much before this post went up. Enough for one more movie. It was a tossup between The Father, Judas and the Black Messiah, and Promising Young Woman. As you can imagine, I’m pretty satisfied with the choice I made. Writer/director Emerald Fennell takes the rape-revenge genre and reshapes it into something that feels completely new. Like many of the other films on this list, it also feels relevant to what’s going on today. There are many reasons why I could’ve given it this slot. The writing, the performances, the way it puts your stomach in knots as you wonder what’s going to happen next, the pitch-perfect ending… but I’m going to pick a more personal reason. I try to look at films as snapshots of when they were made. There’s a part of me that winces when I look at Gone with the Wind but I’m also able to take a step back and say “but other than that…” and then just enjoy the movie. In Promising Young Woman, the past is confronted in a way that made me pause and think about two movies on my shelf: Wedding Crashers and American Pie. The Vince Vaughn/Owen Wilson comedy, in particular, has a lot of questionable bits of comedy, bits made even more eyebrow-raising by the fact that it isn't an "old" movie whose entire cast is now dead. Let’s just say that when a movie makes me go “This movie is replacing X”, makes me think this hard about things, and does everything else you want in a thriller… it’ll stick in your head for a long time. That's why I'm calling it the best/my favorite movie of the year.

18 notes · View notes

excelsi-or · 4 years

Text

18/09/25 - beginning of an end (woozi)

w.c. 2.1k (FLUUUUUUUUUUUUFF)

July 28, 2025

September 18, 2025

“You want to what now?”

“Knew I should have called Wonwoo,” Jihoon sighs. He twirls his pencil between his fingers.

“No, calling your best friend is the ideal person to call in this situation.”

“My best friend is an idiot and blowing it out of proportion,” Jihoon retorts.

Mingyu huffs. “You call me, asking how to propose. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?”

Jihoon frowns at his phone screen and then puts it back to his ear. “Not yell at me, you absolute dolt. I just want advice on what to say and how to do it. Rings and stuff.”

“I am literally the most ill-equipped person for this conversation,” Mingyu whines. He clicks his tongue. “Let’s go talk to Seungcheollie hyung tonight.”

Considering Seungcheol isn’t married, Jihoon wonders why Mingyu thinks the older man would be helpful. “But why do you need to come?”

“I need to be prepared for your upcoming nuptials.”

Jihoon tries to fight the smile that blooms on his face when he hears those words. “Shut up.”

“I never thought I would see the day, hyung.”

“I’m really going to hang up on you.”

“Text Cheol hyung and then text me.” Mingyu sounds as if he’s going to say goodbye. “Don’t you dare leave me out of this, hyung. I swear to God.” Then the line goes dead.

Jihoon twirls around in his seat.

The break up songs that one of the managers had liked just weren’t the types of songs he was making nowadays. So he handed the man ballads, sadder songs about love. They were more longing than angsty. And while it doesn’t seem to be exactly what the man had heard, he seemed happy with the end result.

“Ah, you’re a good one, Jihoon-ssi,” he’d said.

Jihoon knows that he can’t do much better than that in terms of a compliment. But it doesn’t take a genius to know that Jihoon’s head hasn’t been entirely on music the past few weeks.

The company had had a party a few nights ago to celebrate the end of summer. This meant that significant others and spouses were able to mingle alongside them. While it was nice to introduce her to some of the other producers, she knew Hansol, Seokmin, and Bumzu already. They were the only real people that mattered to him.

Regardless, since then, people have been passing him in the hallway asking when he plans to tie the knot.

“You don’t let a smart woman like that walk around without a ring on her finger, Jihoon-ah,” one of the higher ups had said. She’d wanted a drink and Jihoon had offered to grab it for her. If she had heard that man, she would have given him a piece of her mind. Something along the lines of ownership and how she, as a smart woman, can do whatever she wants with or without a ring.

But odd comments like that have had him looking at marriage differently.

His mother, in particular, has been pushing the marriage card a bit harder than usual. Every time Jihoon calls, she asks why he hasn’t asked that ‘poor girl to marry him’.

“We’re just not ready yet,” Jihoon says every time.

“Aish,” his mother sighs. “When are you going to be ready?”

“What’s the difference if we’re married? We’d be living the same life we do now.”

“It feels different when you’re married, Jihoon-ah.”

When he wakes up next to her in the morning, he’s started wondering how different it would feel.

“What do you think of marriage?” Jihoon asked one morning at breakfast. They were sat across each other on their kitchen counters with bowls of cereal in their laps.

“Marriage?” she repeated. She tipped her head in that way of hers. “We said we’d get married when we were ready.”

Jihoon nodded. They’ve been saying it for years now. When they’re ready. “Are we?”

“Ready for marriage?” She looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you ready for marriage?”

“Are you?”

She chewed thoughtfully, tipping her head back. “Jihoonie, if you asked me to marry you, I’d be stupid to say no. But how different would our lives be if we tied the knot?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Omma says it’s different.”

She had no response to that, but that was an affirmative answer as any. The topic of marriage usually put them off completely and made them scared for what the future held. But Jihoon has been analyzing his future before bed every night, as she lays in his arms already asleep.

She’s it. Every future he can come up with has her in it.

And maybe that’s what makes him ready.

Jihoon digs around in his pocket for the ring box that he’s been carrying for a few weeks. He’d picked it out, checked her shoe for her shoe size and sized the ring to it. If the Internet was lying about that, they can always get it resized. He keeps the ring box in his backpack and sweater pockets when he leaves the house. She’ll find it if he leaves it at home.

The call to Mingyu was to prep him. And because he also knows his friend is horrible at keeping it secrets, everyone else will know by the time they get home. It’s a sort of incentive to ask her now before the surprise is spoiled.

His phone rings and he answers on the first ring when he sees her name. “Hello?”

“Can you still get away for a quick dinner?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you by the Han.”

“You’ve already ordered our foods, yes?”

“The Cokes and chicken should be there when you get there,” Jihoon chuckles. He’d ordered before calling Mingyu. “See you in a bit.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” As soon as he’s hung up, he hops out of his chair, makes sure he has everything and hurries out of the building. It isn’t until he’s in the lobby that he realizes that the ring isn’t in his sweater pocket. Quickly, Jihoon bolts back upstairs, past four people he already said bye to and passes those same four people again on his way down.

Jihoon catches the train. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet the entire way, the anticipation killing him. He didn’t expect to be nervous. He planned this entire thing so that it would be a nonchalant ask. It would come up mid-conversation and she could say yes or no. If she wasn’t ready, cool. If she was, great. He didn’t want to add extra pressure by dressing up fancy and going to a nice restaurant, which they never do; or picking an important date to ask, in case it went wrong.

And yet, he’s still nervous to ask the love of his life if she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. Go figure.

Jihoon, even after running up and down the stairs twice, makes it to the Han before she does. The delivery boy arrives right on time and Jihoon pays him, tips him, and then sits down and waits. Jihoon flicks through a Webtoon he’s been reading in the mean time and glances up every time he thinks he hears her coming.

Jihoon doesn’t bother to look up when he hears jogging footsteps coming towards him until those footsteps stop right beside him. He looks up at her in a yellow dress and one of his cardigans over it, because it’s starting to get cold. Her hair seems wind swept and her cheeks are flushed.

“Train got delayed for a kid who got lost,” she breathes. She takes a seat next to the food, turned so that she’s facing him entirely and her legs are crossed. “Let’s eat.”

Jihoon can’t seem to say anything. He’s at a loss and every time he tries to say something, he has to bite his tongue. The words ‘do you want to marry me’ seem to want to just fall out of his mouth. So he stays mum.

She must assume that he’s just in the middle of a creative whirl, as she talks for the both of them. She updates him on what she’s been up to at work, on the articles she’s read that day, on the little squabbles between their friends.

“Seungkwan told me that he thinks Hansol is dating somebody, because he stays out late and sometimes texts him that he isn’t coming home.”

Jihoon smirks.

“And I know it’s because he’s prepping to drop his next album and that he doesn’t want to tell Seungkwan until then,” she chuckles. “So I just went along with it.”

She chews thoughtfully and stares out at the River, admiring the lights across the water as it gets dark. “You okay, Ji?”

Jihoon tips his head. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she sat down.

“You literally haven’t said anything since I got here.” She turns back to him. “Something on your mind?”

Jihoon is about to shake his head no, when he feels the weight of the ring box shift against his skin. “Yeah, actually.”

She lifts an eyebrow, popping another chicken piece into her mouth. “What is it?”

Jihoon licks his bottom lip and thinks about how he wants to word this. “Remember that conversation we had a few weeks ago?”

She stares at him blankly.

“At breakfast,” he clears his throat, “about marriage.”

“Oh.” She nods. “Yeah, I do.”

His mouth feels dry. “Have you thought about it since?”

“Marriage?” She shrugs. Her eyes fall to the food between them. “I told you I’d be stupid to say no, I think. All you have to do is ask, Jihoonie, I’ll say—”

He had slipped his hand into his sweater pocket while she was looking at the food. When she sits back, the ring box is open between them.

“Whoa,” she finishes. Her eyes meet his.

Jihoon shrugs sheepishly. “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes have grown to the size of saucers. There’s just a long enough pause that Jihoon starts to pull the ring box back. “Yes, Jihoon. Yeah. Oh my god.” She watches as he slips the ring on her finger.

Before she has time to process all her emotions, Jihoon says, “Hah, the Internet was right.”

The bubbling of emotion, and probably tears, pops as her brow furrows. She pulls her gaze from the ring to look at him. “What?”

Jihoon explains the shoe size-ring size article he’d read. “Didn’t believe it, but I’m glad it’s right otherwise this would be a little anticlimactic. Are you surprised?”

“About the ring fitting or the proposal?” When she looks to him, her eyes are sparkling. “I’m surprised. You’d been mentioning marriage more often lately, especially since that company thing a few days ago. So I guess I was also… expecting something.” She lets out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Can’t say I was expecting a full-on proposal. Maybe another conversation about marriage.”

Jihoon takes her hand and brushes a kiss to the back of it. “If I did this any other time, I’m almost sure that everyone else would know I was going to ask.”

“You haven’t told the guys?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “But I assume they all know about a pending engagement by now.”

She laughs, unable to tame her smile or the euphoria in her chest. “You told Gyu, didn’t you?”

He smirks.

“You’re not actually going back to the office, are you? You’re not going to make me wait to actually tell them, are you? Hansol and Seungkwanie are coming over for games tonight.”

Jihoon chuckles and he squeezes her hand. “I’m all yours tonight.”

She uses her other hand to feed him a piece of chicken. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“You guys all have to be out of here by midnight,” she announces once the boys are all seated in the living room.

Jihoon glances over at her from his spot on the couch, laughing.

She brings the snacks to the table as the boys ask why.

“I told you!” Seungkwan exclaims, grabbing her wrist. “He’d do it without telling us!”

Then he pulls her left hand into the center of the room for everyone to see the ring on her finger. The reaction is almost immediate. Jihoon is yanked in what seems like three directions.

Seungkwan pulls her into his lap for a hug, and Jeonghan leans closer so they can discuss the ring.

“And here I thought you were letting me in on a secret!” Mingyu whines as he ruffles Jihoon’s hair.

“The secret that he knew you were going to spread to all of us,” Wonwoo chuckles from Mingyu’s other side.

Jihoon catches her eye across the room and she can’t help but smile.

Yep, that flip in his stomach is all the answer he needs.

He’s ready.

THE END.

GUYS. To all of you who have read the entirety of this fluffy project, thank you. :D I’ve loved reading through comments and tags. They really do make my day. I’m so glad that there have been people who have loved this series as much as I enjoyed writing it. I initially started writing it in 2018 and would just get these little fluffy ideas of what I wanted a relationship to be. Jihoon was kinda just a stand in man for it. BUT then it evolved into its own story that I love.

I’m probably going to a week off of posting. I have a huge original story that I’ve been playing around with (lol, I actually have like 5, but i’m working on one right now). But I do have another fluffy, Jihoon thing that is mostly done and just needs to be edited at this point (single dad Jihoon anyone?). SO there’s more coming from me. :)

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt #tabilrn #lee jihoon scenarios

81 notes · View notes

daisiesforlacey · 4 years

Text

clouds - chapter 2 : cirrus

Pair: Julie x alive!Luke

Summary: After her mother’s death, Julie Molina moved away from Hollywood, across the country, to Ithaca, New York. She’s left behind her two loves in life: her best friend, Luke, and her music. There, she finds new friends and enemies, new experiences and joys, she might even find herself. Every night, Luke calls Julie to talk about the clouds. But what if Luke is hiding something?

Word Count: 3,344

Warnings: angsty??? I mean we gotta move the story along soooo

Note: I started writing this and it got away from me! I think this series might be longer than originally intended, but that’s not a bad thing. I can’t wait to delve more into Alex, Reggie, and Carrie’s storylines, but for now, here’s this! Please please comment, like, reblog; feedback is always appreciated :)))

Masterlist

Taglist

---

The morning had been much chillier than the previous day. On their way to school, Julie and Flynn had bundled up in their favorite sweaters and scarves, along with matching thermoses of tea. Julie had tried to stuff her hair into a wool hat, but after failing miserably, she settled on tying her hair back into a ponytail. Flynn had offered to help style her curls that morning, but she had declined.

The ground next to the sidewalk was blue with frost and they could almost see their breath if they squinted hard enough.

In Ithaca, the winter was dryer, she had found that her lips chapped more often and she seemed to constantly have the sniffles. In L.A, when it got colder, it mostly rained, snow was far and few between and was never terribly enjoyable; the second it hit the ground it would become this sort of grey sludge. One thing they both shared was the unpredictability. Seeing the sun one day did not often guarantee a warm week, which left Julie to keep an array of coats of different thicknesses.

There weren’t too many clouds to see, if she tried hard enough, she might be able to make out a flying saucer. She shook her head, spaceships were too easy and basic; anything could be a UFO.

As they walked and the sun slowly rose, they talked about their upcoming day; if Carrie was going to be tolerable, if they would be getting new music projects, and who was buying lunch.

Luckily for Julie, she could already feel the air warm up, unfortunately, the conversion had shifted to Luke.

“How is your friend? Liam, or whatever?” Flynn asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Luke,” Julie snorted and looked down at her hands, “He’s doing well, he didn’t see too many shapes yesterday, so our conversation was relatively short.” Flynn knew about their nightly calls, but Julie had left out most of the reason they happened. Flynn didn’t need to know how much she missed her friend, she didn’t want the other girl to feel inadequate.

“It’s really cool that you guys still keep in touch, if all of my friendships drifted apart that nicely, Carrie…” Flynn drifted off into thought at the mention of Carrie. Contemplating Julie, frowned, she didn’t particularly like to think that she and Luke had drifted, but she supposed they had literally done just that.

“Well when you have a history like Luke and I have, it’s impossible not to talk to him.” Julie didn’t mention that he seemed to be a part of her that was now missing, or that Luke had this sort of magnetism that drew anyone and everyone to him, or that when they wrote songs together she had felt more alive and seen than anything.

Those things didn’t need saying, those things had been left in L.A.

But in here she had Flynn and a small town and a family.

A broken family, she thought.

---

As Nick finished his guitar solo, his lacrosse buddies whooped and hollered in the small music room.

It was smaller than the one back home, but just as welcoming. Cinder block walls had been covered with sound absorbers and music posters ranging from “hang in there” cats to major and minor scales to student made flyers, advertising the school dance coming up.

Their mascot, a yellow and black cougar, had been painted on the wall by an art club some time ago. It was slightly lopsided and its snarling mouth looked more mangled, but the sentiment was there.

Julie had zoned out long before Nick had started, staring at the chipped paint on the wall. She knew the second she walked up to the piano to play, she would freeze. No amount of mental preparation could prepare her to set her fingers on the ivory keys and play something, anything.

“Okay, we have one last performance,” Her teacher said, “Julie.”

The girl looked up slowly. She stumbled toward the piano with hesitant steps. She sat down with a sigh and opened the sheet music. Her blood was rushing and her head was pounding. The room seemed to blur and spin, but was also eerily still and quiet.

She could feel the eyes of her classmates boring into her skull. As they watched her, she could guess what they were thinking, here we go again, I wonder if she’ll actually play this time, just get on with it.

Julie knew that Flynn was trying to encourage her, even from where she was sitting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at the girl.

“Take your time,” Her teacher assured.

Julie might take forever.

She opened the case of the piano and grazed her fingertips on the keys. They were cold and unforbidding. The second she pressed one of the keys she knew that she would break.

Memories of her mother would come rushing back; every scraped knee, every hand holding in the parking lot, every crush whispered in secret, every night spent over the stove learning what spice goes in when, every uncontrollable fit of laughter.

She would remember every Christmas and Easter that they would break out her Abuela’s Arroz Con Leche recipe, every concert they went to where they would scream lyrics until their throats were raw.

Every failed test that her mother had stayed up late to help her study for, every flu shot where her mother still held her hand, no matter how old she got.

Every note written or melody sung would fill her mind. She didn’t know what would happen when it did, and she desperately didn’t want to find out.

She stood up, “I’m sorry.”

Julie thought she heard Carrie say some snarky remark and that Flynn had retaliated, but she couldn’t have been sure before she was rushing out the door.

After the school day, Flynn and her walked home as quickly as they could, sometimes sprinting. They needed to beat Julie’s father home after he picked up her brother, Carlos, up from his own school. She was praying that he hadn’t heard the news that she was out of the music program yet.

She groaned as she saw his car already in the driveway

Flynn quickly hugged her, “It’s fine, he’ll understand.” She withdrew from the hug and held Julie at arms length with a sympathetic smile before they had to part. Flynn waved as she unlocked her front door and stepped inside.

Julie took a sharp breath in before doing the same.

---

“So is ‘Clocks move faster / cause it’s all were after’ the first pre-chorus or the second pre-chorus?” Reggie ran his fingers through his hair, his nose scrunching, “Because wouldn’t it just make more sense to have the same pre-chorus on each verse?”

The brunet’s bass was slung over his body as he rested his hands on the body of his guitar. He looked over to Luke, who was crouched over his lyrics.

Luke shook his head , his air already dripping with sweat, “It’s the second pre-chorus, the first is ‘Clocks move forward / but we don’t get older.’” He semi, sang, strumming along on his guitar. “Changing it up adds movement, we don’t want to bore the listeners. It keeps the theme of staying young at heart.”

Reggie nodded and plucked at his bass, testing out different rhythms. Moving his hands up the neck and over the strings, he finally settled on some semblance of a tune, repeating it over and over again.

Alex joined him, adding a hit on each of the beats of the song. This gave the song a drive and pounding rhythm, working with Luke’s line of ‘Electric hammer to the heart.”

Luke stood up after scribbling something and added his guitar part over it, humming along with the melody, and soon they got well into the song, improvising along the way. There were still some wrong chords and off beats, but they had the bones of what they felt like would be a hit.

Luke had gone from humming to singing, Reggie and Alex joining in. Luke felt his pulse quicken as he grinned.

“‘We ain’t searchin’ for tomorrow’,” Alex sang, to which Reggie echoed, “‘Cause got all we need today’.”

Luke bopped along, “‘Living on a feeling that’s been running through our veins.”

They looked back and forth to each other, knowing what was coming next.

Reggie was supposed to have a line to end the bridge, but it hadn’t been written yet. Luke had spent hours trying to come up with something, but it just didn’t click, every line he wrote either changed the meaning of the song or was too clumsy.

Luke sighed as they all stopped playing and he cast an apologetic gaze to the bassist, “I’ll get it. I promise.”

The boy in the flannel just shook his head, “No worries bro, we’ve done a lot in,” He checked the clock on the wall and his eyes widened comically. “Five hours…”

This mock practice session had started in Alex’s garage right after school after Luke had presented them with a song at lunch.

“It’s totally us,” He had said, sliding to the table with a lunch tray and a scribbled mess of paper, beaming, “Totally mid 90’s. And look, you-,” He pointed to Alex who looked excited but skeptical, “Can start the bridge and you-,” Luke turned his attention to Reggie, “Can echo, ending with…”

Luke trailed off, he didn’t have an ending line yet, he knew it had to be perfect. Everyone knows you can’t end a bridge without a call to action, something that stirred and emotion so deep that you couldn’t help but sing along.

He sighed as his mouth twisted, “I don’t know, I haven’t found the perfect line yet.” He looked down at his chicken scratch, then slid the paper across to Alex, who examined it.

“I like it, have you decided where the harmonies should go yet, or nah?” Alex flipped his blond hair back, after adjusting it in his snapback. He was already trying to decide what type of beats he would do, where the drum fills would be, and what he should consult Reggie on.

The makeshift band had a process: Luke would write a basic lyric and chord progression and then he would bring it to the guys. From there Alex would come up with the heartbeat of the song with Reggie. Reggie would work with Luke to see what melodies he should be playing and how he and Luke would bounce off of each other.

When they came together, the three friends would look at who sang what, harmonies, and fill in the gaps in the music. They worked like a well oiled machine

But lunch had been 7 hours ago and it was now 8 o’clock, well past when Luke should have been home. The boy jumped as he looked outside, saw it was dark, and cursed under his breath. He quickly put his guitar on his stand and grabbed his book bag, then ran out with a wave to Reggie and Alex.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, if I’m still alive,” he called before getting on his bike and going home.

The air was damp and it had just rained, making the pavement slippery. Despite being almost winter, the weather was warm enough to where he only had to put on a shirt and jeans to be comfortable.

On his way to his house, Luke looked to the sky. He cataloged some shapes of dark clouds, moose, cat, spaceship, he thought. He chucked to himself, anything could be a space ship, it wasn’t creative enough, all the cloud had to be was somewhat circular.

His mind drifted to Julie and what she would have to say about these clouds. She would probably smile, her adorable gap showing, and tell him all of the wonderful odd shapes she would see.

“There, right there, a cat chasing a dog,” She would say, “No, no, scratch that, a dog chasing a cat chasing a pigeon. Wait sorry, a shark without a back fin. Or maybe a line of ducklings crossing a street.” Then she would narrow her eyes as the clouds shifted and formed new images, “Well now I don’t know what I see.”

Luke would then look over and tell her that everything she saw was amazing, even if it was truly unremarkable. She was always able to see things he couldn’t, even if it was something as menial as a cloud. She could look at him and know exactly what was wrong no matter what; he didn’t know if she was truly super powered, or if he was super transparent.

Which was why he was glad she couldn’t see him on their calls.

She knew about Reggie and Alex, they had met before she left, but she didn’t know that they played music together. She didn’t know that Luke was writing songs with them like he used to with her. He didn’t want her to feel replaced.

And as far as she knew, his parents were completely fine with his music. They may have had little gripes here and there, but she thought that was the extent of it.

As he arrived at his house and opened the front door, that wasn’t the case at all.

“Lucas Patterson!” His mother yelled from the kitchen, “Do you have any idea what time it is!”

Luke winced as she ran into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. He could see that the dining room table had already been cleared and the leftovers put away.

“It is 8:14! Would you like to tell me why the hell you missed dinner again for the third time this week? No wait! I bet I know! Let me guess, you were at Alex’s!” Her eyes were steel. It wasn’t a question, they both knew the only thing that would keep him out at night would be music with the guys.

He gripped the strap of his back pack before looking at the floor, his knuckles white. “I’m sorry Mom. I just lost track of time, you know how I get.”

Emily smoothed her brow with her fingers as her husband walked in from the kitchen. “At least tell me you did your homework.”

Luke didn’t answer.

His mom threw the dish towel to the floor, “Luke we had a deal! You can keep playing your guitar and going to ‘band practice,’” She used air quotes, “As long as you did your homework before then and always made it home for dinner. Always! Your family and school work is important! I know you don’t think so, but as long as you live under our roof, you abide by our rules!”

He threw his hands up and scoffed, “I’m not going to stop playing music, it’s my life! And you can’t stop me! I am sorry if I miss a few family dinners a week, but isn’t that fine if it means I’m happy?”

His mother looked at him like he had sprouted another head, “Son, I know it’s been hard ever since Julie left, and I know you miss her but--”

“But what Mom? There’s nothing I can do about it, she’s in New York! And the only thing keeping me connected to her is music, and right now, you don’t even let me have that.” Luke stormed through the living room into his room.

He dropped his bag down with a thunk, and sat on his bed, smashing his head into a pillow and screaming. He regretted that he didn’t bring his guitar back, if only to take out his anger by shredding on volume 10.

The day kept getting later, and while he didn’t like calling her while angry, he dialed Julie’s phone number.

The phone rang a couple times before she picked up, “Hello, this is Her Majesty Queen Julie Molina, what is your concern peasant?” She said in a haughty voice, before her façade broke with a giggle.

“Well Your Highness, I have come to discuss today’s weather.” He replied, playing along, her voice instantly making him feel better.

“Today we have seen a couch, a baby, and many many trees.”

“I have also seen many trees; they are very common in the sky.” Luke laughed, “I may have also spotted a suitcase and an umbrella. Sadly my Queen, the rain made it quite hard to see too many shapes.”

Julie clicked her tongue, he could see her face now, her nose scrunched and her mouth down turned, “That is a downright shame. Is there any news to report?’”

Luke perked up at that and rushed to get the words out of his mouth, “Actually, yeah. I wrote a song, ‘Now or Never,’ and it’s actually not that bad. Except I can’t figure out this one line, and it’s been bugging me all day.” He huffed, “Do you wanna hear it?”

She replied just as giddy as he is, “Of course!”

The brunet then launched into singing an a cappella version of his song from memory, stopping here or there to say things such as, “A harmony would totally go here,” or “Add a little guitar riff and it’d be perfect.”

He kept going until, “‘Living on a feeling that’s been running through our veins’. And then of course another line, and then the chorus.” He was staring at his popcorn ceiling now, smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

Julie paused, then said, “We’re the revolution that’s been singing in the rain.”

“What?”

“That’s it, that’s your missing lyric.”

Luke froze, she really couldn’t get any more perfect.

“Queen Julie, you are a genius!” He jumped off of his bed to grab a scrap of paper off of his messy desk before writing down the lyric. “You songwriting genius! If you have stuff like that flowing through your brain, how aren’t you playing it?”

He didn’t mean to bring it up, it just sort of happened. But it was true, how could she be so good at writing and let it go to waste?

Julie cleared her throat, “Well actually--”

“You sang again? I knew it, I knew you would!” Luke cut her off.

“Well no,” She rushed out, he could already see her running her hand over her face in exasperation. He has to stop interrupting people. “I got kicked out of the music program. I haven’t played anything since I got here, and I couldn't either today. I guess that was the last straw, because my teacher called my dad and said that unless I could play something by the end of the week, I need to choose a new elective.”

They sat in silence.

Luke played with his hands, knitting his fingers together and pulling them apart before an idea came to him, “What about your mom’s song. Not for class I mean! But, if just to sit down at your piano again and play something, what about that? She wrote it for you after all. And then maybe afterwards you’d be good to play for your class and boom! You’re Julie, songwriting pianist extraordinaire again!”

“I-I don’t know about that, Luke,” She swallowed. Right before her mom passed, they had written a song together, but she hasn’t even been able to look at it since she moved. If she sat down to play it, she’d be accepting all of those memories back. But then again, if she needed to sing anything it would be her mother’s song. They had taken a few months to write it, and Julie’s mom had completed it before…

“I mean maybe. I’ll see. I’ll try.” Julie nodded to herself and gave a determinant look to her wall. Tomorrow morning she would go to her garage and play her mother's song.

“You promise?” Luke asked tentatively.

“I promise.”

“Alright. I guess I should go, it’s probably pretty late where you are. I’ll see you soon?”

Julie nodded, “See you soon.” Then hung up.

17 notes · View notes

themasterisathirsttrap · 4 years

Text

Putting Out Fire (With Gasoline) Ch. 1

Missy x reader x eventual Silver!Simm x reader Set during series 10

Mostly 10x11 and 10x12

((No warnings for this chapter))

Part 1/ Chapter 1 of ???

((Title from the David Bowie Song- Cat People (Putting Out Fire) ))

From the first wry and sweetly uttered words proclaiming false innocence when you first tumbled upon her hidden prison, Missy, without a doubt become one of the most interesting people you had ever met.

With the exception of the Doctor, that was. But even then, you couldn’t quite explain the silent, powerful magnetism that drew you to her in a way that had you returning to visit her regularly enough that it had become something of a routine.

Even more surprisingly, she seemed to tolerate your presence in a manner that had you both wary and secretly giddy.

Nice certainly wasn’t the right word for how she treated you, but she certainly played nice by comparison when you saw the ways she spoke with others and contrasted it to the cautiously curious conversations the two of you had.

Missy was an enigma.

A funny, terrifying, and beautiful enigma wrapped into the form of Mary Poppin’s evil alternate ego.

But damn was she fun.

And she might have noticed the ways your lips quirked upward into a smile at her jokes and passive jabs at the Doctor, or the way your gazes met when your eyes glimmered with curiosity at the rare story she’d share of her past.

“My whole life doesn’t revolve around you, Doctor.”

You remember her chiming in annoyance at the Doctor.

And the more you listened, the more convinced you were that what she said was true.

Not that you’d trust her not to lie.

No, you figured that even if the stories were all lies, she was at the very least the kind of storyteller that had you mindlessly grinning at her theatrical retellings, resting your head on your hands as you leaned forward in your seat.

You couldn’t be sure that she liked you, given her open and frequently voiced distaste for humanity.

But at the very least, she didn’t seem want to kill you.

Regardless, she seemed to enjoy having an audience, and company not constantly berating her.

It came as a surprise when she even humored you about stories related to her past, you listened with genuine curiosity, watching as she’d place her hands on her hips and pace about her glass stage as if delivering a dramatic monologue to her audience of one.

The first time she opted to share, you approached it in a more back-and-forth, conversational manner, but the icy glare she shot you had your question dying in your throat. Moments like that reminded you of exactly who she was and what she was capable of.

You were quick to not repeat the mistake in front of the same woman who spoke of human deaths like swatting flies. She seemed pleased about that, and often shifted to this monologue-esque style of interaction when telling a story. Not that you minded, she had you engaged at every lilt of her Scottish intonations and occasional break for dramatic pause.

Somewhere along the line, her voice became oddly soothing to you. Despite the frequent awful things she said and flippantly colorful descriptions of even seemingly ordinary things.

You your embarrassment, you even caught yourself watching with a tilted head and soft dopey smile on your face. Her amused short laugh and the feeling of her gaze suddenly on you had your face flushing red with embarrassment under her scrutinization.

“Enjoying yourself, are you? Or did your little human brain scurry off to a daydream in the middle of my story?” Missy teased, her hands on her hips with a click of her tongue.

You were quick to shake your head, the thought of even being anywhere but present in her company sounding ridiculous in your head. You weren’t sure if you had felt that way around anyone before, to your silent dismay, but pushing those thoughts to the back of your head.

“Just listening,” you shot back dismissively, “You’re a good storyteller.”

You admitted honestly, shrugging to downplay the sentiment, but your eyes flashing to hers with a somewhat guilty smile.

Her eyes scanned over you for a moment in that way that made you feel both terrifyingly exposed and oddly thrilled.

“Hm. Well, don’t get too dreamy-eyed on me, pet.” She said, her body language easing as she seemed to accept your explanation. You kept your expression unchanged at her added endearment.

“Makes me feel like you’re not listening,” she added with an exaggeratedly sad expression, miming an invisible tear trailing down her cheek. Then she half-swung around, her skirts fanning with a flourish before taking a seat at the piano bench.

“Usually when people are properly listening to me, there’s a bit more fear than dopey grins,” her tone was sickly sweet as she paused to idly examine her nails, “Perhaps I’ve been too soft. I’ll have to let you in on some more grizzly details of my….intergalactic exploits.” She added in a thoughtful voice and a dramatic sigh.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the act, but shook your head instead, looking to her with a challenging look, but otherwise not moving from your position.

“Or maybe it’s just not you. I don’t mind a little scary.”

Her act dropped and she looked to you suddenly with a sharp but quietly curious look. You took the bait and continued.

“I mean—it probably takes takes a questionably sane human to come down here nearly daily and spend time with someone who could easily kill them if the mood struck, wouldn’t it?

“Well, you’re certainly either daft or insane. Haven’t quite decided which.”

“All I’m saying—is that maybe it’s not that you aren’t terrifying, but more that you stumbled upon someone just dumb or crazy enough to enjoy your sociopathic ramblings.”

You felt bold saying it, briefly fearing that you overstepped and let your tongue-and-cheek side out a little strong.

But, to your surprise, she suddenly threw her head back into a fit of laughter. The sound was infectious and you couldn’t help but let your own lips quirk back upward. She took her time regaining her composure, wiping away what might have been an actual stray tear of laugher.

“Oh. Well, At least you seem to possess some semblance of self-awareness lacking in most of your species.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a complement,” you replied with an edge of wry amusement showing through.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, pet. Just an observation.”

There it was again. You said nothing, but looked down and avoided her gaze as you felt her analyzing you.

You glanced at your phone and swore quietly at the time. You had spent far too long there.

Again.

You climbed to your feet, stretching the muscles the you hadn’t realized you had been tensing, and gathering your belongings.

“It’s late—I should get going,” you said, trying to dispel whatever effect she was having on you in your sudden urge to stay.

She turned away from you and hummed with a guarded indifference that you had come to recognize, but you hadn’t quite learned how to decipher.

The silence fell between the two of you until the sound of a shrill note on the piano jarred you enough to look up from your gathering of papers and notebooks. She didn’t look your way, but you caught the silhouette of her smile at your surprised jump. She comfortably fell into a melody that sounded vaguely familiar, but you didn’t know enough about classical music to bother a guess.

You thought she might continue to play without as much as a goodbye, as she often did in her attempt to make it clear that she didn’t enjoy your little visits as much as you did.

But maybe you were flattering yourself.

You needed to be a realist. Especially with her.

And especially with how uneasy your own muddled non-existent feelings where towards her.

You yawned, shaking the thoughts away as you realized just how tired and fatigued your muscles were from the long day of classes, staying up too late with Bill and the Doctor, and slipping away to sneak in some time with her behind their backs.

To your surprise ,as you turned to leave, she chimed out.

“Now, don’t be be roped into some silly adventure do-gooder adventure with the Doctor tomorrow.”

You looked back at her in surprise.

“You’re particularly boring when you’re tired. I can’t have you too tired to listen attentively next time,” the shift in her voice took you off guard. Back to her guarded, colder tone, but with a playful edge.

“I don’t like other people playing with my toys.”

She shot you a wink and you quickly turned away to leave while giving a short nod. Your face flushed at the gesture.

No.

You weren’t developing feelings for her.

You couldn’t.

That would be ridiculous, and incredibly stupid.

But the memory of the uneasy fluttering in your stomach when she smiled at you tugged at your subconscious, and had to admit you had never really enjoyed hearing the sound of your own name as much as you did falling from her lips.

Oh Shit.

You had feelings for her.

---

If she hadn’t yet noticed how you felt towards her, you particularly weren’t eager to let it slip out. Sure, you heard an earful of the Doctor’s warnings and the exasperation in his tone every time he found you with her. And as he reminded you that she was very, very dangerous, harbored a strong dislike of humans, and could be very manipulative when she wanted to be.

Part of you hoped that you didn’t fall into that category. But the self-preservation instinct in you reminded you that you might.

The thought that maybe she was using you to get to the Doctor sent an ache through your chest. You didn’t want to be blindsided—to be naïve enough that you were sure you’d be the exception to her distaste for humanity. You needed to be practical—despite the complete impracticality of dropping plans with classmates and friends to visit with the Time Lady. You weren’t an exceptionally emotion-driven type. But then again, you weren’t usually the crush type either.

So, you played it subtle. Or at least tried to. Your visits remained fairly regular, and she didn’t appear especially eager to scare you off, and maintained her expected level of pointed jabs, occasionally cruel, but often very funny commentary, and occasional insults that lacked the sentiment behind it to get to you.

Slowly, your visits evolved from story monologues, to listening to her play the piano, discussing books, even turning an old projector into a screen to show TV shows and films either you or her hadn’t seen.

And even her asking you the occasional question about yourself. It wasn’t until feeling quiet attentiveness in her gaze while waiting for your reply that you realized she was serious.

Despite his constant reminders not to fall for her tricks, you had absolutely developed a soft spot for the Time Lady. She had a biting wit, a wicked sense of humor, and tales that kept you on the edge of your seat. Sure, you weren’t entirely sure if they were all true. (Yet, you had a feeling most of them were, given what you knew about your other Time Lord friend).

Needless to say, you were smitten. You tried not to be obvious about it, though she was incredibly smart, so you didn’t doubt she must have picked up on it partly at the very least.

She seemed to at least like the company and audience enough to not try to trick you into your death. Which for her, seemed like at least a good start.

Much to her dismay and your delight, you could tell she was starting to openly enjoy you returning for visits so often. The way her eyes lit up and her lips curled into a smile instantly when you stepped across the threshold of the vault had you easily mirroring her expression.

By now, you were no longer phased as she swung open the glass of her “cell” and stepped out with a flourish. You responded by lifting your gifts of cheap wine into her line of sight.

You could have almost sworn she almost snorted a laugh as her head falling back in a fit of amusement. Your face warmed at seeming to get a genuine laugh out of her and you offered a cheeky grin in return as she shook her head in mock-exasperation and stepped toward to your usual comfy chair setup with a small table.

You tossed your rucksack down and set down the several containers of boxed wine. You knew Missy would complain about it the whole time, but drink it all anyway.

“Terrible. I don’t even know why I bother giving you recommendations,” she said, falling back onto the old cushioned loveseat.

“Because your last recommendation was the blood of a fresh virgin sacrifice.” Missy seemed to once more get a kick out of her own joke and crinkled her nose with a teasing smile. “—and when you finally did give an actual wine recommendation, every bottle you mentioned was at least a few hundred pounds out of my price range.”

Missy kicked her feet up onto the table with a light scoff, waving her hand in dismissal with a slight shake of her head. “You don’t put a price tag on good taste.” You shook your head, still half-smiling as you pulled out a couple of clear plastic cups that had her rolling her eyes again and shooting another look of disapproval that had you grinning again.

“You do on my budget.” That earned a small huff of a laugh from Missy as she tutted in mock-disappointment at the spread.

“Besides, I don’t think bringing you breakable, sharp glass would be very advisable, given the wines I’ve brought you the past few visits.” Missy chuckled at that. “Now that’s true. But alas, I’ll overlook that this once, just to show I can be a both fair and firm overlord.” she shot a wink at you, reaching for her pseudo-glass. You did roll your eyes at that. “How very gracious,” you deadpanned without missing a beat.

“You’ll have to open that atrocious thing,” Missy nodded towards the wine. You shot her a skeptical look, but leaned over and reached for it anyway. “Being an intergalactic genius, I assumed you would know how to open boxed wine by now.” Her lips twitched upward at the backhanded compliment. “Wine wasn’t made for boxes, dear. It’s unnatural and one of humanity’s greatest atrocities,” She kicked her legs over the other side of the loveseat, reclining with a bored expression. “—and why would I ever want to know such things when others do it for you. It’s bad enough that I’m reduced to slumming it with a plebe like you.”

That did strike a bit of a nerve, but you held it back and played along anyway as if it hadn’t.

“If it’s so much below you, then I’ll take myself and my plebian wine back to my flat to slum it alone in peace then,” your tone was light, but you couldn’t help but frown as you abruptly stood, reaching for your bag and the boxes.

Your head snapped up at her sudden grip on your arm. You blinked at the silent speed with which she had risen from the chair and now stood beside you. The glint in her eyes offered a stark reminder of exactly who she was.

“Don’t you dare,” her voice dropped to a low threat that almost sent a shiver down your spine, but instead you offered her a quietly challenging look, meeting the icy heat of her gaze with quiet defiance that said then play nice.

You released your grip on the box and her grasp loosened. You tossed your bag back towards your chair with a sigh. “Fine.”

Then at least don’t act like you’d rather me leave.

The thought remained unsaid, but you hadn’t anticipated the heavy silence that fell between the two of you then. But you had grown painfully aware of her sudden closeness to you. Something akin to regret seemed to shift in her gaze. Your breath nearly caught as she raised a hand and let her fingers softly graze your jaw before, in a rare moment of hesitation on her part, she let her hand fall back to her side.

You knew that despite her half-hearted attempts to insult and belittle you, you saw exactly what she was actually trying to do.

She enjoyed your visiting time every bit as much as you did. Despite her efforts to get under your skin. You occasionally caught the slight look of pride hidden in her gaze when you stood your ground and didn’t flinch at the things she’d say just to elicit a reaction.

After a long pause, she looked back up to you and made a faux cat claw gesture with her hand. “Rrrraaaoooww,”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous sound and pantomime. Which, you were quite sure was the idea, as the added coldness dissipated once more. She plopped back onto her sofa with a huff. “Now that we can put the claws back, pour me a glass before I change my mind.” You shook your head softly, crouching down and opening the spout on the box before pausing and reaching back for your rucksack. “Right away, your highness,” you added dryly.

From your bag, you pulled out a small bottle with the dim glinting reflection of foil at the top. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Missy’s brows raise, but said nothing as you unwrapped the foil and set the small corked bottle on the table.

“Alright, now this is bordering on overkill—what’s the occasion? I see you’ve brought the top shelf gutter wine for me, and you even bothered to bring those bloody red cups that make it feel like an American frat house in here. So, tell me. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

You turned back to her with barely concealed grin,

You hesitated. You shouldn’t be surprised she knew you well by now.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” you said and paused, hesitantly meeting her pressing gaze. Missy smirked at that. “And it’s not my surprise to give away.”

Missy leaned forward, with a teasing smile. “Ohhh, so the Doctor! Come on, tell me. Don’t worry, I’ll act surprised.” Her finger bopped softly on your nose before giving a dramatic look of surprise. “See? It’ll be a little secret for just us girls.”

You had expected it would end up like this, and you had a very strong suspicion that the Doctor had expected you to tell her before he did. Maybe to get her warmed up to the idea.

“Well….yes, the Doctor spoke with me earlier today, ” you paused, furrowing your brow as a pang of guilt shot through you at the possibility that the Doctor hadn’t planned on you telling her. However, the weight of Missy’s pressing gaze left little room to back out of what you had started, so you spat it out.

“He was open to letting you out for an adventure in the TARDIS…..to see how you’d do. Responding to a distress call, or something.” “—he wants me to play him?”

You hesitantly look up at her, truly unsure how she would react.

You knew their history was complicated to say the least. But as far as specifics went, they were few and far between. Not knowing much about their history to begin with made it difficult for you to predict the reaction of an already unpredictable woman.

But her face lit up as a sly grin fell across her lips, her head falling back as she erupted into a thunderous laugh. After a long moment, she regained her composure to lean forward in her seat, propping her chin up on her hand.

“He wants to give me a go at playing him? Hilarious. A bit like playing Doctor Who style probation, is it?” “Ah….a bit? I suppose.” To your relief she laughed at that, the tenseness in your shoulders easing as she visibly relaxed and her face light up, gears visibly turning in her head at the possibilities.

“Yes. Playing goody-good Doctor shouldn’t be too hard,” she turned back to you, leaning forward again in her seat, as if sharing something in confidence. “Besides, I’d love to show him just how easy it is to do his job, just to rub it in his face for a laugh,” she added with another pondering expression, more thinking out loud than to you. Her eyes snapped back to yours after a moment, sparkling with mischief as she stood and slowly paced past you.

“S’ppose either way that’s better than 70 more years in the vault…” You nodded, looking over the back of your chair and smiling softly as she seemed to come to life at the notion of seeing something other than this same room. She turned and walked back towards you, hands resting proudly on her hips as she swayed with each step. “—And am I to assume he’ll be supervising this little excursion?” slowed to a stop behind your chair. “That was one of his conditions.” “Supporting expendables and all?” “Ah. I…you mean Nardole and Bill? “—and you.” You blinked in surprise, mildly offended. “I can come if you like…. calling me an expendable isn’t exactly an assuring start.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, of course you’re coming.”

You nearly jumped at the feeling of her hands suddenly at your shoulders as she stood behind your chair. Her face dropped to hover over your shoulder, close enough to feel her breath against your cheek. You froze, but didn’t move away from her touch.

“Besides. The Doctor gets his companions, I should be allowed mine.”

Did she just…?

“So, don’t be so tense, pet,” her hands slid down the outside of your arms to rest on either side of you. Her lips moved closer to your ear as her voice lowered. “Stick close, and don’t wander off, and you shouldn’t have too much to worry about,” She finished with a quick peck to the side of your cheek and straightened back up to full height. “Now, the bubbly,” she said, extending her hand expectantly. If was anyone else, you might have asked for a please before even moving, but somehow, knowing full well that she wouldn’t even if you had, you found the light order strangely endearing coming from her.

You reached forward and grabbed the mini-champagne, passing it and a glass to her. She gave you a sly wink and draped herself sideways over the arm of your chair as she readied the bottle as you held the glasses. The cork shot-out from the mini-champagne with a pop! And you made a noise of complaint, but couldn’t help but laugh as the booze quickly fizzed over and splashed onto you. You held the glass as she poured until it was overflowing, causing more to slosh onto you from the too-full cup.

“Hey—rude,” you grumbled as she purposefully poured even more into the glass and nudged you so its contents splashed onto your shirt and by now had the jeans on your leg nearly soaked.

“That’s what you get for being clumsy,” she clicked her tongue in a mock-patronizing tone. You reached to try to grab the bottle when she moved it away and held a finger up. “Ah-ah, this is my gift, remember. I didn’t have to share.” “But you didn’t share!—you could have had two glasses from that,” you offered indignantly. “And yet, here you are, making a mess in my vault, covered in what would have been second glass. So, in a way, I did share didn’t I? See, I’m becoming more giving already.”

You shot her an unamused look that had her smiling slyly at you once more. You made a small sound of annoyance, but otherwise didn’t bother questioning her logic at this point, and poured yourself some of your boxed wine. She raised a glass and stuck a pose pausing for dramatic effect. “A toast,” she began, stopping to take a cheat sip of her own overflowing glass. You found a smile forming on your lips as you raised your own glass.

“To what exactly?” “To freedom, bitches.” “—well, sort of,” you added quickly with a near snort of a laugh, ignoring the exasperated look she sent you.

You didn’t want her get any wrong ideas about the Doctor’s intentions, but held up your glass anyway. “Ugh…fine. Then to sort of freedom, bitches!” She revised with as much enthusiasm as you clinked the plastic cups together.

“I’ll drink to that.”

-----

Note: I will be jumping back and forth between this and another fic, so keep your eye out for that!

storytag list:

@c-s-stars @anteroom-of-death @twistedgoddessoftimelords @justaproudslytherpuff @hallospaceboyy

99 notes · View notes

shiningliive · 4 years

Photo

7th Stage Set List Speculation

Tumblr hates tall images so please click to see in higher quality!

I put way too much time and effort into thinking up a possible set list for 7th stage, and I’m sure it’ll be way off, but I’m curious how close I can get. Some clarifications, other ideas, and explanations below the read more. Be warned, it’s very long.

*This is not an official set Utapri 7th Stage list, just speculation.

Basic Layout:

1. This is all assuming they want something similar-ish to Maji Love Kingdom, plus solos and other recent songs. I didnt want to just copy the Maji Love Kingdom set list and whack some solos in there

2. Another order I considered was similar to the 5th stage layout where they did ‘character 1 solo, character 2 solo, character 3 solo, song they did together.’ I do think this is definitely possible for 7th stage, and if they do do this, it could be, for example, Tokiya solo, Cecil solo, Yamato solo, Colourfully Spark. I mainly didnt use this for my primary example because I figured it might be odd if they arent doing Quartet Night Solos.

3. Not very notable, but I also placed the solos in the order the boys are usually in (Otoya, Masato, Natsuki, Tokiya, Ren, Syo, Cecil) with the matching Heavens order.

4. I did my best to not have too much focus on one group to the point where you dont see another at all until the second half or later. This happened with 6th stage with Heavens not even being introduced until an hour and 45 minutes in. There is a bit of a gap without Quartet Night as Heavens and Starish do their solos, but I feel like this is a bit unnavoidable, and tried to counterbalance it by having the shining masterpiece songs (no heavens) before the solos.

5. Of this speculative set list, I consider Setsugetsuka-Michibiki Hikari to be the first half, and Up Down Up-Welcome to Utapri Kingdom (just realised I wrote welcome to utapri world in the graphic but you get me) to be the second half. This doesnt matter too much, but it could be split this way across discs or have an interlude inbetween. There are less songs in the ‘second half’ but it does end up being around the same length when you consider we usually get about 2 20 minute talks at the end.

Explanations:

1. I didnt include Quartet Night songs for a few reasons. Mainly because they dont have any new ones released lately and there have already been two QN only lives with qnlf being the most recent main live since 6th stage. It’s certainly possible that they might include some repeats of older QN solos, but this set list is already at the same length and amount of songs as 6th stage, so it would add enough extra time to make 7th stage too long.

2. Obviously I didnt include a Nagi solo because Wingu isn’t able to attend 7th stage. I assumed this would not affect other song selections and that they will likely have other members fill in for his parts in group songs.

3. I was unable to figure out which new set of solos for Heavens and Starish they would use. I didn’t decide the ones used for any particular reason, so I wouldn’t at all be surprised if different solos than I wrote are used.

4. I used Setsugetsuka as the opener song, because I thought it would not only allow for special outfits to be worn by Starish and Quartet Night that could be chanegd after their introductions, but it also saved time (instead of having one starish song and one QN song, theyre combined). It’s not quite an exciting booming start to the live, but it is a very well loved song by the fandom that hasnt been performed yet, and the first few notes are very recognisable. I can also imagine it fading nicely into a Heavens group song I’m not sure about this choice, but I couldnt quite shake the idea, so I kept it. Wouldn’t be surprised if they started with the same three group songs as Maji Love Kingdom though.

5. In general, I tried to consider things like outfit changes, the time of each song, having a first and second half that can be split onto two discs for dvd/bluray release, and most importantly perhaps, not having the same seiyuu perform too many times in a row to avoid them getting too exhausted.

6. I found it very hard to place Encore. Unlike a lot of the other Mamo songs, it isnt exactly a hype, exciting song to start off a live (after the initial group songs) but it also doesnt really work in the middle after the solos, or towards the end. Having the song be called ‘encore’ and being played during the credits of Maji Love Kingdom really give that vibe that it should be an encore song.

7. I don’t think they would want 4 Quartet Night+Starish joint songs without Heavens (as it would cause a bit of an imbalance) so I figure they might do either the Shining CD 2 songs or the upcoming Black/White songs that are released shortly before the live. For now I’ve gone with Wonder Rondo and Dancing Over Night because we dont know the length of the Black/White songs.

“Things that would be cool but probably won’t happen”:

1. I placed Encore towards the start of my set list, but theres something that I would love to see, no matter where its placed. If the song starts with Mamo singing, as expected, until about 30 seconds in when slowly all other seiyuu would walk on stage and join in. This would allow the song to be used as an encore with all seiyuu, or just help build variety and excitement to an otherwise (albeit intense) but slower more emotional song. It also lines up well with the songs build itself as well as the MV that slowly includes more and more people.

2. More special outfits for Setsugetsuka and the Shining Masterpiece songs and more special outfits/performances in general. I think this is the reason why previous performances like Koizakura and other Shining Theatre songs are so memorable.

3. Pretty sure this one is almost 100% not happening, but, I want Sawashiro Miyuki as a guest to sing Maigo no Kokoro, Haru’s solo song from the first season of the anime. It’s so often forgotten, but its a beautiful song. This would also serve as a nice interlude for the boys to have an outfit change or change staging etc.

4. I feel like there should maybe be a third encore song, but I couldnt choose a good one. It feels odd to not have 1000% or 2000%, so a version of them with all three groups is possible. If they are going to have a new version of an older song, I feel like a Mirai Chizu would be a great choice. Not only does it suit an encore (emotionally and lyrically speaking), but they haven’t performed it since 1st stage, and I feel like it could work really well with all groups together. Or it could be some kind of new medley or song entirely.

5. Of course, there are 3 big things we’d all like to see announced at 7th stage. These being: a 5th season of the anime or some kind of sequel, Dolce Vita news, and a large scale update to shining live (eg, adding Heavens.)

Stats of my set list:

1. The total song time of my set list is 2 hours and 20 minutes with an hour and a half of extra time including a shining dancers or other interlude, introduction video, talks, about 5-10 seconds inbetween songs, audience encore call, and goodbyes.

2. The final time of this set list would be about 3 hours and 48 minutes.

3. For the performance on the 18th for example, doors open at 2pm, and 7th stage begins at 4:30. With this set list, it seems like it would end at about 8:15-8:30pm which allows for enough time to exit the dome before 9:00pm.

4. There are 33 songs in this set list (one talk is incorrectly labeled as an extra song in the graphic) which is the same as 6th stage.

For anyone who’s gotten this far, thank you. This is literally essay length and I wrote it in 50 minutes. It was a lot of fun thinking up this set list, so I’m excited to see if im at all accurate, or 100% wrong. Either way I’m so excited to see the actual set list.

#not shining live #utapri #uta no prince-sama #utapri 7th stage #7th stage

98 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

In Our Bedroom After The War

[Broadway Kids]

Prompt: “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

Word count: 2944

-----------------------

Tommy can’t quite remember when Carrie stopped speaking. Some people said it was in the third grade after she brought that Bible to school and started praying in the middle of lunch, others said after the Christian Youth Camp incident and she swallowed so much water that she “permanently clogged her vocal cords” or something stupid. Whatever happened, something had made Carrie White go silent, and she’s been a target of mockery since.

Deaf and dumb. That’s what the other kids liked to call her. But she isn’t deaf, Tommy knows, because she always reacts to what is said about her with great offense and pain, and she certainly isn’t dumb because Tommy has seen her grades when her report cards are stolen and passed around by bullies. She’s a smart girl, very smart. If anything, he was the dumb one, because the amount of times he’s almost given away their little get-togethers was unbelievable.

It started a month into the school year, he believed. He went into senior year, while Carrie just started high school. He can’t quite remember what caused them to start meeting up in the hidden bathroom under the staircase in the C hall stair well, and he’ll admit that he had never imagined himself hanging out with the city’s resident freak and actually enjoy it, but he would seriously miss their reclusive meetings every Friday after school if they were to ever stop.

Today in particular was very special. 1) because he was finally going to try and teach Carrie about video games (she was fourteen! she should at least know the basics like Pokemon and Mario!) and 2) he had noticed that Carrie seemed a little off the past week and he wanted to ask her about it.

When you saw someone like Carrie White, you would assume that she was constantly in a state of anxiety and depression, but Tommy has learned to pick up on little ticks she does over time. Like how lately, she’s been tugging on her hair and biting her knuckles more often, something she only does if something is really bothering her. Because of their social status in the high school hierarchy, he was never able to ask her if she was alright, so non verbal forms of communication would have to do until their weekly meetup.

There’s the way he tried to avoid letting her out of sight, and if it isn’t that, then it's the way they move around each other in natural synchronicity in the hallway, like celestial bodies that have been caught in orbit for millennia. It's the way he makes excuses to walk alone to class just to make sure she doesn’t get any trouble on the way to her own. It's the silent conversations, an inquisitive look (“You okay?”) answered by a minute nod (“All good.”). It’s everything he wishes he had done for her before his final year of high school.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how Carrie would soon be all alone again after he graduates. Tried not to think about what would happen to her when he isn’t there as her silent guardian. Tried not to think about how sad he would be without seeing her every day anymore.

Tommy slipped inside the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible to avoid alerting anyone who may have been lurking around, and turned to face the rest of the space. Carrie is sitting at the sink counter on one of two stools Tommy had smuggled in there for them. She turned her head to look at him sideways, but she’s still got her nose buried in a sketchbook, which she still hasn't let him look at. He wondered what she's drawing. Maybe it's a treasure map. Or a secret code. Or that deer they saw earlier. Or him.

“The party has arrived!” Tommy has announced, his voice rebounding loudly off of the silent bathroom walls. He dropped his backpack on the floor, unlike Carrie had done, as hers was hung up on one of the hooks on the wall.

Carrie finally put her pencil down and swiveled around completely in her stool to smile at him. She doesn’t show any teeth with her grin, and it’s slightly wry, but it’s a smile nonetheless and Tommy is honored to get such a thing from her. He examined her quickly, luckily finding no new wounds from bullying, then crossed over. She hastily closed her sketchbook.

“One day,” He said. “One day I will see your masterpiece.”

Carrie gave him an apologetic look, her smile becoming a little more tight. She grabbed a nearby whiteboard to write on, but stopped when Tommy waved a hand.

“No, no,” He said. “No need for that! I’ve been doing really well in my ASL class- you can sign to me!”

Carrie looked skeptical, but Tommy doesn’t miss the flash of excitement in her warm honey eyes. It’s not often that someone understands her when she uses sign language.

“Come on, I’m smarter than I look! Don’t doubt my abilities to learn a new language!”

Carrie nodded. She held up her hands, shaking down the frayed sleeves of her shirt, and began to sign.

“What (something) we (something) today?”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t AS fluent as he thought, but Carrie looked so much more comfortable being able to sign! He could just use his context clues!

“Something very fun!” Tommy assured her. He took out his phone and turned on a playlist that they’ve been progressively adding more and more songs to (with Carrie having to write hers down and give the list to him, seeing as she didn’t own any electronics). You can tell who added what like this: if it’s Christian related or something grungy-chill, Carrie probably added it; if it has folk music vibes and/or a lot of acoustic guitars, it was probably Tommy, surprisingly enough; if it just generally sounds like it’s ripped from an indie movie, it’s kind of a toss up.

He took out the Nintendo Switch he got last Christmas next and set it up on the sink counter. Carrie tilted her head at it as if it were a peculiar flower that had just sprouted out of the porcelain countertop.

“Ever played before?” Tommy asked, although he already knew the answer.

“No. (something) I’ve seen (something) (something).”

“You’ve seen it before?” Tommy repeated, guessing just by the way Carrie had pointed to her eyes.

Carrie nodded.

“Well, now you get to play it!” Tommy beamed at her and she smiled back, but it seems a little forced. Something is definitely on her mind- he’ll have to ask once she’s a little more relaxed. “Hmm… How about Minecraft?”

“M-I-N-E-C-R-A-F-T. I’ve heard (something) (something).”

“It’s fun!” Tommy assured her, selecting the game. “Trust me, you’ll like it.” He put the controllers in her hands and she rubs her thumbs over the rubber protectors. “So the main goal is surviving,” He went on. “There's a lot of objectives actually, but surviving is always the first one. Once you get used to it, you can play in Survival mode and start making a good base and start getting tools and armor and stuff, then you can move on to other objectives. But for now you can just play in Creative. What should we name the world?”

Carrie thought for a few moments, and Tommy could practically see all the random names cycling through her brain. After a moment, she signed, “(something)”

Tommy blinked.

“One more time.”

“(something)”

“Can you fingerspell it, please?”

“V-E-N-U-S.”

“Oh! Venus! We haven’t learned planets yet.” Tommy said. “Wait- Venus?”

“V-E-N-U-S (something) (something) (something) cool place (something) live.”

Tommy laughed. “Can’t argue with that logic!” He helped Carrie type in the name and clicked through a couple of other settings before hitting “create world”. Within a few moments the world was up and running. Carrie’s character was off in no time, exploring the blocky landscape and sifting through her colorful inventory, although her movements were sporadic and jerky since it was her first time playing.

Decorating the base was by far Carrie’s favorite part. There were so many different flowers for the outside and wood types for flooring and even COLORED glass. The only thing that would make it better was if you could have animals and OH MY GOODNESS YOU COULD HAVE ANIMALS!!!!!!!!

For a moment, Tommy debated just leaving Carrie there and allowing her to design the base and play around however she wanted, but he couldn't. He was so worried that someone may waltz in and see her in the boy’s bathroom and then do something to her. Carrie being nearly drowned in one of the toilets, Carrie getting her head smashed against the sink counter, Carrie being raped, Carrie getting beaten into a bloody pulp- so many horrible scenarios forced their way into his head. Carrie getting her throat slit, Carrie getting her body stuffed in the air vent, Carrie getting sodomized with a mop stick.

Why? Why were kids so cruel to her? Why couldn’t Tommy protect her from everything? Why does he know he can’t?

There was a soft touch on his hand and he jolted out of his thoughts. Carrie flinched away, too, then signed something he couldn’t understand, but knew she was asking if he was okay by the pinched expression on her face.

“I’m okay,” He assured her. “Just thinking.”

She made the gesture of “what” and tilted her head. Then she pointed to herself.

About me?

“Yeah,” Tommy admitted.

That made Carrie’s nose scrunch up in a giggle.

“Don’t (something) S-U-E know.”

“If you think that I would cheat on my girlfriend with a fish, then you are very much wrong.” Tommy said. “What about you? What’s been on your mind?”

Carrie put the Switch controllers down and shrugged her shoulders. She began to play with the cuff of her sleeve, not really making eye contact anymore.

“Come on,” Tommy urged. “You can tell me!”

“People,” Carrie signed vaguely.

“People?” Tommy echoed. “People being rude to you?”

Carrie shrugged again, and it was clear she didn’t really want to talk about this anymore, nor did she seem to be in a mood to continue playing. Tommy packed up the Nintendo Switch and paused their shared playlist. He gave Carrie her backpack and they started to walk out of the school in mutual silence.

“Sorry,” Tommy said as they neared the parking lot. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Carrie shook her head, then signed, “You didn’t. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Well if it isn’t praying Carrie!”

Carrie went rigid, like she had been struck by lightning. She stopped mid-step and didn’t move as a group of seniors trot over, their faces alight with mischief and cruelty.

“Ross!” One of them called. “What are you doing with this freak?”

“Is she holding you hostage?” Another guessed, casting a look at Carrie.

“I bet she’s leading him out to his car to force him to let her ride him.” A third said. The group howled with diseased laughter at that. Tommy is appalled. Carrie looked ill. “Is that it, church girl? The need for sex has finally broken into you and you’re ready to sin?”

“Back off!” Tommy growled, shoving the boy away. He put himself between him and Carrie, becoming a barricade of sorts. “Leave her alone.”

“I wonder how loud she’ll moan,” A fourth member of the group mused.

“Can she even moan?” The second wondered out loud.

“If you plowed into her hard enough I bet she’ll make some sort of sound.” The first said.

Carrie darted left and sprinted for the nearby line of trees edging the campus. Tommy glared at the group of seniors, then followed, concerned.

The darkness of the forest quickly closes around them. Carrie is fast on her feet, but Tommy was an athlete and he caught up quickly. He snagged the back of her jacket in a loose grip. They stumbled together over uneven ground and exposed tree roots until Carrie collapsed in a hollow between two moss-covered rocks. Tommy slotted himself in front of her so that she’s shielded from all sides- the rocks and Tommy forming a barrier from the world.

He said nothing. He listened to the girl’s gasping breaths and knew that it’s nothing that words can cure- not anymore. Not after years of having no one, being stabbed in the back and spoon fed lies. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the rustling of oak leaves, the distant calls of birds, the persistent harmony of crickets.

He wondered what Carrie used to ground herself.

He wondered if she grounded herself at all.

Slowly, softly, Carrie calmed to some degree. It comes faster than Tommy expected, but he assumed that’s just because she’s grown used to the treatment she gets. She shifted, wiggling her shoes beneath Tommy’s thigh. Tommy doesn’t shift. He won’t leave until she does.

“It’s okay,” He finally whispered. “I’m here. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Carrie whimpered and made a sloppy gesture- Why?

“Because I care about you.” Tommy said. “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

He wanted to make her laugh or smile or at least stop crying, but Carrie just whimpered again. She swiveled around to face him, eyes flashing with tears.

“Why?” She signed again, sniffling miserably.

“We’re friends.” Tommy told her. “You know that, don’t you?” The look he got said that she didn’t believe it. “Come on. Tell me some things you know about me. You’d be surprised how well you know me.”

Carrie hesitated, then began to sign, “Your name is Tommy Ross.” She winced at how bland it was, but Tommy only nodded, brushing a bit of his dark brown hair out of his eyes. Carrie’s face scrunched up like she’s memorizing her timestaple in front of him, struggling to bring that gridded mess of numbers to mind.

“You’re the tallest (something) (something) everyone (something) your team,” She continued. The sky overhead is eye-wateringly blue, with crisply white cotton clouds scudding along the horizon. A light breeze shakes the leaves of a nearby oak tree that has the initials of some high school sweethearts carved into the base of its trunk. They’re a little crooked from where someone’s hand had slipped, the flat of a switchblade arcing a little too close to the bark, and making a J thicker, almost a U when you looked at it dead on.

“That’s right,” Tommy said. He knows his role here is only background noise. That’s his job, whether Carrie knows it or not, and he’s more than happy to fulfill it. He doesn’t mind being subject to the scrutiny of befriending ol’ praying Carrie because of it. Not if it’s what she needs to feel better.

“Your eyes (something) like a (something) green-brown, (something) (something) like slimy algae. You always have (something) stupid red sports jacket on. Your sneakers (something) (something) white, once upon a time.” She managed to tease him, uttering out a tiny giggle.

“What can I say, Carrie, I’m a filthy gremlin, like all boys are-” He joked, and she swatted him lightly on the arm. She bit back a laugh, and Tommy wished that she wouldn’t- Carrie tips her head back when she laughs, unabashed and on the edge of hysterical, giggling and snorting, shoulders shaking with mirth until she’s brought her gaze back down again, cheeks flushed from the exertion of being host to that much joy despite everything that she’s been through. No one holds the weight of trauma and mistreatment as heavily on their shoulders as Carrie White does- Carrieta, the library to all of those scattered instances of would-be’s-could-be’s-shouldn’t-be’s. And still, there is a smidge joy. It’s beautiful. He thought that she’s most beautiful when she’s laughing (don’t tell Sue, and if you do, make sure you let her know it’s completely platonic. but just don’t tell her at all).

“You have, like, (something) favorite red shirt, with a light brown hood on it. And S-U-E thinks it’s hideous.” Carrie continued. She’s tapping her foot against his leg, a gentle soothing gesture, and he lets her. He knew that it’s more for herself than him.

“You have a golden ring (something) onto a necklace.” Carrie signed. “But you don’t wear it (something) you think it (something) you look silly. But it’s really pretty.” Pause, and when she signed again, it wasn't about the necklace anymore. “It’s (something) (something) like having a sibling.” Pause. Carrie looked up at him with glittering eyes. “You’re Tommy Ross.”

The weight that she placed on his name makes his heart stutter, catching in his chest- the warmth that he felt towards her is almost unbearable, and he found himself grinning, mouth gone crooked in the gesture.

“I’m Tommy Ross, that’s right,” He repeated to her, as if they’re introducing themselves at some shitty college icebreaker. “And I’m not going anywhere, Carrie.” He went on, a touch of urgency in his voice- and she smiles, eyes closing, though hers are more reserved than his, somehow. There’s a tear bright in the corner of her right eye, and it traced a thin path down her face. More come. They pool at her chin, dripping off of her face, and soaking into the softness of the earth. His chest ached.

“And you’re not going anywhere,” She whispered, voice hitching a little halfway through. He swiped a thumb over her cheek, flicked the tear off into the green grass behind them.

“I’m not,” He promised. “I’m not leaving you, Carrie.” And his voice had gone soft, her name cradled gently in his mouth, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

#it hurts because carrie kills tommy in the musical #dont tag as ship or I WILL pee in your sink #carrie #carrie the musical #broadway kids carrie #carrie white #tommy ross #carrie fanfiction #my writing

12 notes · View notes

storytellerssanctum · 4 years

Text

Petals & Thorns - chapter 5/?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x oc

Warnings: none

Word count: 2k

SONG OF THE CHAPTER - don’t get me wrong • lewis capaldi

The library was quiet, there was few people in the room. The books stood sturdy on the shelves, calling to her as she walked towards them. The room had a chill; a small draft wafted through the windows. The end of fall was near, and the weather was proving it. The castle was not very well insulated. She found her fingertips drifting over a few hardcover novels on the wooden shelf. She picked up one that peaked her interest, and she brought it to an empty table. It spoke tales of the history of magic. She needed it for her essay, but she did enjoy learning about it. As she sat, the old chair groaned under the slight weight. She opened the cover, and dove inside a world away from her own. As she flipped through pages, she heard footsteps crawling towards the table. Her eyes filtered up over her glasses as she caught sight of a few fourth year Hufflepuffs watching her. They were all girls, and looked as if they wanted to ask her something. They were issuing hushed whispers, clearly talking about her. Their eyes averted to the floor as she caught them.

"Enlighten me on what you find so interesting." She snapped, now her neck was straightened. Her eyes bored into them. They didn't answer. "I'm speaking to you?" She ushered them to respond. Her foot tapped against the floor as her impatience grew.

"We were just wondering if you knew.... if your brother had a girlfriend." She rubbed her face in her hands at the word and snapped her book shut.

"You came to bother me... to ask if my brother had a girlfriend?" She repeated their question. One of the girls nodded. "Do you really think I have the time to answer questions about my stupid little brother?" She scolded. They didn't answer. With a sigh, she stood. "No, he doesn't. Don't waste your time on him." She snapped, walking past them. "Next time, ask him yourself." She signed the book out and walked out of the library. The halls outside of it were littered with students from all houses. She suspected they were just trying to pass the time until the other schools arrived. It was mid-October now, and soon enough it would be the thirtieth. Maybe they were waiting for the day after, when the Triwizard champions would be selected.

She walked down the hallways leading to the dungeon. The time was just after dinner, the lot of everyone would be back inside anyway. Most of the people in her house were lazy, and got tuckered out any time after six o'clock. As she passed, her heels clicked angrily against the floor. When she passed through the entrance hall, the Weasley twins were arguing with each other over something she didn't care to understand. As she walked, Fred stopped arguing and followed her with his eyes. Usually, she would feel any type of satisfaction at this. Now, she was angry at the Hufflepuff girls for bothering her. She didn't give the two a second look.

"Close your mouth, mate. You'll catch a fly." George shot at his brother. This made Fred give him a glare. "Just looking out for you is all." Addy couldn't even laugh at their banter. This week had been a week of hell for the girl. An essay in three of her classes were due, her brother was driving her up a wall, and she was dealing with daily coercion from her boyfriend to do things she didn't want. Now, she was doing everything she could to avoid Adrian. She spent her time in the library or in her dorm, where he couldn't get to her. He rarely stepped foot in the library in his years of schooling; she didn't have to worry about him looking for her there.

She found herself in front of the stone wall that hid the Slytherin common room. Her lips let the password escape and it opened to reveal a staircase leading down to the dungeon it was located. As she took the steps, she could hear chatter at the bottom of the staircase. She pulled her book closer to her chest as she revealed herself into the opening. A few second years scattered out of her way as they saw her. She scanned the room, seeing her boyfriend sitting in an armchair by the fire. To keep up the reputation of their relationship, she went to him and placed a kiss on his lips. She wanted to throw up at her actions. Being with him made her feel physically ill sometimes. This year, especially. His actions of late were not close to what a relationship should hold.

"Where have you been hiding?" He asked, giving her a smile. He was being nice, it came to her as a shock.

"Library," she showed him her book. "I have some homework due this week, I needed to catch up on it." She gave him an honest answer.

"Looking to take a break?" He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She gave a small shrug.

"Maybe not a break, just some company. Some Hufflepuff girls got on my nerves earlier." She let her lips upturn into a smile. "I had to leave the library before I hexed them."

"Mrs. Prince didn't get them?" He took her hand into his own.

"Must not have been paying close enough attention." She joked.

"Her, not paying attention? That's never happened." He stood and placed a hand on her lower back, leading her back out to the deserted hallway. The castle was quiet near the Slytherin room. Hand in hand, they walked to the astronomy tower. This was a place Adalinda loved dearly. He knew this, and used it to his advantage. When she was up there, her mood drastically increased. As they took the stairs to the top, they didn't speak. When they reached their destination, she let a sigh of relief out of her mouth.

Her hands rested over an old tattered desk as she let her book fall to it. Her eyes fell over the telescopes that grazed the open windows of the room. The darkening sky held speckles of stars. "It's so beautiful up here." She stated, walking to one of the openings in the wall.

"Yeah," his eyes fell over her, watching her take in her surroundings. "It sure is." He made his way over to her, wrapping an arm around her small figure. She fell into him, accepting the hold. He leaned down and brought her into a kiss. She accepted, holding him there for a moment. Adrian wasn't awful when he wasn't angry. When he was kind, it almost made her forget about the bad times they shared. Still, deep in her stomach she couldn't pass the feeling of uneasiness. She knew the good times would pass by almost as soon as they arrived.

The words of her father held her captive in his love. Though, Adrian didn't even know if he truly loved her. He was obsessed with the idea of being with her, but he wasn't sure if it was out of true feelings or simply the idea of a powerful girlfriend. He made her angry often, and feel appreciated seldom. He wasn't sure if the time spent with her was worth it. Yet, when he held her he forgot his doubt. He was peaceful when he had her in his arms, until she tried to push him away. Adrian hated nothing more than being rejected.

"I should probably get to work." There it was, the withdrawal. She couldn't be affectionate with him to save her life.

"You always have something better to do." He muttered, releasing his hold on her. She gave him a quizzical look.

"What are you talking about?" She sighed, walking away from the view.

"You. You couldn't pretend to love me if your life depended on it." He took a seat in a chair, looking away.

"I do, Adrian. This week has been busy." She tried to console him, to prevent him from getting angry.

"Then what'll it be next week? You're too tired, or you have to help your stupid brother with something?" His words were hard as he avoided her face.

"That's not true."

"Then what is it? I brought you up here! It's your favourite place, I wanted some alone time, and you can't even give me two minutes!" He was shouting now. She cowered at his words, scared of his clenched fists.

"Fine," she walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. He hit it off, not wanting the contact anymore. Her heart sped at his actions. "What do you want from me, then?" She was getting angry now, too.

"I want you to have some kind of feelings for me! Stop pretending that what we have is more than a public face! You're only caught up in the thought of pleasing your father, stop leading me on already." He snapped. The sentence hit her deep in the stomach.

"I'd love to tell you whatever you want. I want to make you happy. I can't do that if you aren't letting me." She took a chair beside him, nearly falling into it.

"Haven't you had enough of loneliness already? You have all of these people around you, but you don't let anybody in. You keep us around because it makes you look like you have a purpose. Aren't you sick and tired of lying to be someone your father wants you to be?" A grimace took her expression. "I know you, Addy. This cold person, the one you believe is truly you, it isn't. You put on this face to make everyone scared of you, to make them believe you're the a true Malfoy. I see you when you're not around a crowd."

"I am exactly who I present myself as." She grabbed his hands, making him look to her. "I would not be sitting here with you if I didn't want to be. I chose you, out of everyone I could've had." His eyes met hers, falling into them. As much as he didn't want to believe her, her powerful stare influenced him. She leaned forward and made their lips meet. She was scared that he was discovering her true emotions. When you spent so much time with another person, they could pick up on things. When they parted, he held her with his expression.

"Every time we talk about other people, we make fun of them. You don't join. Your brother hates mudbloods, and he shows it. You have never said that word. In the six years I've known you, you have never let it slip. You'd think, if you hated them so much, you wouldn't avoid it. You don't join in when we laugh at anyone. You laugh at the Weasley twins like they're funny, not like they're stupid. You don't hold a distaste when you see a half-blood, or a blood traitor. You try to, but I can see past it."

"I am a Malfoy, Adrian. I hate everyone who's blood isn't clean. I have to. I don't say it, because there's no need to. With my name, it's assumed. I don't have to show it like Draco. He's trying to prove himself for no reason." His hand reached out and caught her cheek, holding it there for a moment.

"Soon enough, I won't be the only one you have to convince." It was the only words he responded with.

"I'm not convincing you. I am simply telling you."

"You have to prove the words for them to mean something." His thumb drifted over her bottom lip. She felt nothing, no emotion or love at the gesture.

"I love you. We were meant to be together."

"Then show me."

Tags: @play-morezeppelin

12 notes · View notes

nikatyler · 4 years

Photo

Felt like doing some replies the ~ old fashioned ~ way. I should be packing, but I don’t wanna. One good thing about this semester is that I don’t have classes on Monday morning, which means I don’t have to go to Prague on Sunday. But I’ll be once again going home late on Friday -_- Oh well. Maybe I could skip the lecture every once in a while to go home on Thursday afternoon.

I’m scared. Not really of what I’ll have to learn because I know that even if it’s difficult, I’ll probably get it in my brain in the end. Somehow. I’m more scared that once again, I’ll be left alone. I haven’t really found a stable friend group. I mean, I talk to some people sometimes, but I wouldn’t call it a friendship. One friend that I thought I could rely on doesn’t even bother saying hello to me anymore. I don’t know what I did to him, he just stopped talking to me. But maybe it’s for the best. Even when we still talked, I couldn’t believe how judgemental he was, and I often wondered if he talks about me like that too when I can’t hear it. He probably did. Oh well, I’ll see what I can do. I hope I’ll run into someone who is kinda like my best friend from high school.

As for sims stuff, I know I still owe some things to some people and I feel bad about it. You’ll get it eventually. I’m actually looking forward to doing it too. Makeovers are fun. I’d also like to release some more sims, I have one more sim dump and then some old legacy characters I want to share, plus some BC contestants that didn’t make it. They like to get eliminated in the first rounds.

Also, thanks for the comments on my mental health update post. I’ll see how this turns out and if it doesn’t get any better (I’m kinda hoping that better weather brings better mood, it worked before), I’ll start looking for a therapist or something. No offense to my parents but talking to them about this didn’t help in a slightest. They just don’t get it. And I swear I’m not reverting back to the “I’m an edgy misunderstood teenager” phase. Even though “edgy misunderstood teenager” is an aesthetic I still live for. Whatever that means.

And thanks for the tips on the laptop post. I’ll keep them in mind and I’ll probably ask again when the time comes and I actually buy a new one.

Ahh...I guess that’s it? Replies under the cut. As per usual, they’ll probably be the shorter part of this post, but oh well.

abysims replied to your photoset “Let’s find Lilith Vatore some love! In my game, I’ve had Lilith in a...”

Honestly Cassandra and Lilith would be amazing (... In my Glimmerbrook Academy story Cass is actually gonna have a huge crush on Lilith so I'm voting for that, yas!)

Ooooh that sounds great! Also, I’ll have a post announcing the results of the post coming up later, either today or tomorrow, but...spoiler alert: Cassandra might have won ;)

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your post “Simmer - Get to Know”

Lol this thing with Mermaids made me remember that when my friend and I were like 12 years old, a 6-year-old made her a "proposal" and we answered him that she'll marry him when he buys her a house by the sea in Prague

Omg sea in Prague sounds kinda cool, my faculty would be so close to the beach *-* Haha but at the same time it’s kinda terrifying, where would the sea come from? From the north? From the south? Would that mean my home doesn’t exist? Or, actually, considering my town was built on a big hill, would that mean I live on an island? And which part of Prague would be under the sea and which one would stay?

Sorry, I got distracted thinking of this AU where my country actually has access to the sea :D But we used to have it, back in like I think 12th or 13th century. We’re wayyyy smaller now.

amuhav replied to your post “Me, looking up some specs of my current laptop: you're...you're...”

If it's anything like me with my first 'gaming' laptop, the store clerk basically straight up lied to me about how good it was, and I was too young and naive to know better �� sims 3 almost burnt that thing to a crisp ��

Lmao I have a similar story with my first laptop, we were told that it has this super amazing graphic card...and it wasn’t amazing at all, as I later learned when my laptop broke.

amuhav replied to your photoset “Sims Moodboard Challenge I was tagged by @blurrypxls,...”

Oh no... don't make me want to go back to pinterest and do more of these �� They're ADDICTIVE

THEY ARE! I haven’t done much today, but I’ve spent a lot of time there all through this last week.

amuhav replied to your photo “I need to stop. This is more addictive than scrolling through memes....”

Pssst, not to enable or anything, but Picasa 3 has this nice feature where you can take a bunch of pics and it makes them into a nice collage. That's how I made mine, and then used them as my desktop backgrounds ��

I think I’ll use Photoshop, like I do for everything else, but thanks for giving me an idea for my new background! I used to have my sims or some other characters set as a background, but now that I take my laptop to school I feel a bit uncomfortable with that, so since October I’ve had this kinda boring background and I’ve been meaning to change it into something nicer, I just didn’t know what to put there. Now I do.

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Sunset: “How dare you pretend you’re Father Winter?” Father Winter:...”

Holy crap, Sunset is a lot more buff than I ever realized. Those arms! ��

Yup. That’s because she has to get her Athletic skill higher for work. I think her muscle slider might be at max, actually!

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Father Winter: “That’s it! You’re going on my Naughty List. Your...”

How could she not with with muscles like that?? Damn his Christmas magic!

Next time we should just call Caleb. I mean, he defeated Grim Reaper with no problem, surely Father Winter won’t be any more difficult for him!

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Sunset: “Okay, cool. You won’t give us gifts but I have a special one...”

Lmaoooooo, get him, Sunset! ��

He deserves it

asplashofsims replied to your photo “~ daylight”

Cute picture! ♡ I hope you feel better soon and omgg winx club, it's my guilty pleasure for sure hahah all the childhood memories��

I love Winx Club so much. It’s a little ridiculous and the plot holes are terrible (and don’t let me talk about anything after season 4, those are not my Winx D:), but I can’t let it go.

blubrich replied to your post “I forgot how traumatizing Toy Story 3 was ��”

Especially the ending! ��

YES. I remember the whole cinema was crying.

Also, Toy Story always unpacks this weird guilt in me haha. Because as a child, naturally I was like “I would NEVER abandon my toys, I’ll keep them forever!”. And now...they’re in boxes...under my bed and in the basement...some of them I gave away or to my younger sister, who then also gave some away because she’s fifteen now. I still have my plushies and teddy bears in my bed though, it would be too empty without them :D

silverspringsimmer replied to your audio post “(via...”

I love Within Temptation and they got me into heavier music later, too!

I don’t even remember how I found them. I was just bored of the music I was listening to all the time back then, so I clicked through playlists and stuff on Spotify and somehow I landed on their page, I guess. And I immediately fell in love.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your audio post “(via...”

Oh this song was the first song of this bad which I heard! It was also 5-6 years ago.though I do not listen to them often these days.

I think the first song I heard was What Have You Done, which I liked and still like very much, but then I heard this one and went kinda crazy because it just sounded so epic and exactly what my poor slightly depressed fifteen years old soul needed. In one day, I completely switched from pop to metal and it took me a few years to appreciate my old favourite music again. (I know that I say all the time that I’m a Taylor Swift stan, but actually I only really started LOVING her music again last year.)

I’ve always thought that it’s kinda funny that in my Music class, for the first semester I prepared a project about Taylor Swift. In the second semester, that changed, the old pop loving Ronnie was dead, and my new project was about Within Temptation :D But I remember that I was actually upset that day, I chose to show my classmates the video of What About Us and they didn’t appreciate it. And then after me, my other classmate had a project about some singer who had this weird song about getting high. They wanted to replay it. I was so bitter, in my head I was like “this song that I showed you has an interesting meaningful message and you’d rather listen to a song about drugs, how dare you?! You’re absolutely terrible!”

Yeah. I mean, I get it today, but I was so, so bitter.

amuhav replied to your audio post “(via...”

I recently found out they had a new album out (and Nightwish had a new single out too ��) and early 2000s emo teenage me immediately surfaced and threw money at my screen!

Ahhhh I’ve basically had Noise on repeat since it came out, I love it so much! And the video is cool too. I can’t wait to hear the whole album. Nightwish never disappoints, I hope I’ll one day get to see them live. I’ve had a few chances but then it never worked out.

#replies #abysims #tiny-tany-thaanos #amuhav #fataleromeo #asplashofsims #blubrich #silverspringsimmer

10 notes · View notes

thinkingoutlouddblog · 5 years

Text

delicate

Summary: The mistreatment Harry suffered in a previous relationship causes issues in his current relationship with you.

Tags: Harry Styles x reader, requested, angst, fluff, vomiting, references to a previous emotionally abusive relationship (please don’t read if this will trigger you and get help if you need it, I am always here to talk!)

No one ever seemed to look at Harry and see what he really was.

“I’m heading off now, H,” you spoke to Harry from your place in the doorway of his writing room, breaking him out of his trance.

He turned his head to you, attempting to subtly adjust the papers on his desk so you couldn’t see what he had just been working on. You internally sighed at his complete failure at subtlety but said nothing, not wanting to intrude on the music he so often kept secret from you.

You felt the tug at your chest nonetheless. You were no fool. You knew why he was so private when it came to writing music. Despite the year you had spent sharing your life with Harry, you still failed to be his inspiration, his muse.

“Okay lovie,” he replied.

You, certainly, did not see.

“Will I ever get to hear any of this music you stay holed up in here to write?” You tried to adopt a teasing tone, silently cursing yourself for your lack of self control.

“You’ll hear it when it’s done, just like everyone else,” he gave you a half smile, still not quite withdrawn from his own head yet.

He tended to become completely immersed in his writing, and it would sometimes take hours for him to get out of his own head and back down to Earth. This was something you were used to.

“But I’m not just everyone else am I?” You failed to maintain the teasing tone this time around.

“Love-” Harry started, somewhat shocked, but you purposefully unlocked your phone and looked down at the time before he could even start.

“I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late,” the normalcy returned to your voice, and you took a few steps forward to press a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Love you,” you called as you walked out.

You heard not a word in return.

Not even Gemma saw what he really was.

“So how is Harold, who is far too busy writing love songs about you to attend this evening?” Gemma asked over drinks at Anne’s house some hours later.

“I would hardly say he’s writing songs about me,” you gave what you hope sounded like a light-hearted laugh.

“Are you joking?” Anne interjected, “All he ever seems to write about anymore is you. Every time I ask him what he’s writing about when he’s sitting on my couch with his journal and pen he says it’s something for you,” she laughed, not noticing the doubt etched in your brow.

He couldn’t be writing about you, you thought to yourself, what reason could he possibly have to hide his music from you if that was the case. He’s one of the most talented singer-songwriters around today. It just didn’t add up.

“I don’t know it’s just…” you spoke with uncertainty, “He’s really secretive about all of his music. The whole year we’ve been together he’s been working so hard on writing this new album, but I haven’t heard any of it. Not once. Surely I would have if he wasn’t scared I’d be angry that none of it is actually about me.”

“I’m not sure,” the cogs in Gemma’s head were turning. She knew for a fact that Harry wrote about you. All the damn time. So she knew you had to be wrong. But something there was clearly not quite right. He had never been precious about sharing his music before.

Oh.

It suddenly clicked in Gemma’s head.

“He did share a lot of his music with his… ex-girlfriend,” she hesitated, knowing this could be a sensitive topic, “but I don’t think she really received it well. She had no expertise and yet she was his biggest critic. She said she didn’t want him releasing any of the songs that were,” she hesitated once more, “about her.”

“Right,” you said, shocked. He had never mentioned this girl before.

“Oh, it’s not to worry love,” Anne piped up again, ever the one to shine positivity into a situation. “That’s his past and he’s going to leave all of that sensitivity behind soon enough I just know it.

“Do you know how I know it?” She smiled, leaning in closer to you.

“How?” You couldn’t help but smile with her.

“Because you’re his forever. I just know it.”

Nor his own mother, saw what he was.

Anne’s words reverberated in your head the whole night. Through the drinks and the laughs and the whole ride home.

You were still so dazed by Anne’s words that it took you a moment longer than it should have to process what was happening when you walked through the door of your shared home.

You could hear him before you see him, emptying his stomach into the toilet of the guest bathroom. “Babe?” you call from the doorway, alerting him of your presence before you nudge the door open with your foot to see your love hunched over the toilet.

It feels like a stab to the heart, seeing the boy you hold so so dear in so much pain and discomfort. All you want to do is take every bit of pain he’s feeling away. Almost as quickly as your caring instincts kick in though, he stops himself vomiting long enough to say, “Don’t come in! I’ll take care of myself I promise!”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “What?” you say, stepping closer towards him.

“You weren’t supposed to see!” He cries out, hysterical from the illness overtaking his body. “You weren’t supposed to see!” he repeats, tears slipping from his eyes as he continues vomiting into the toilet.

You kneel down beside him now and start rubbing his back as he finishes heaving into the toilet. “Baby why am I not supposed to see? You’ve taken care of me when I was sick like this, why can’t I do the same?” you ask, assuming he’s embarrassed for you to see him as he is.

He wipes his mouth and slumps down against the wall, clearly finished for now. You lean forward and flush the toilet for him. He sits slumped in silence, gazing at a spot past you, purposely not looking at you.

“So?” you ask him, after having allowed him a moment’s silence.

“She-” he paused, nervous, “she didn’t like it.”

“Who didn’t like what?” you prompted.

“My- my ex, she didn’t like it when I was sick. She told me not to go anywhere near her,” his voice grew softer, “she told me I had to look after myself instead of making myself a problem for other people.” He looked down at his hands, still refusing to look at you.

Now, now he was allowing you to see what no one but himself saw. He had been broken before. Absolutely smashed on the ground. Made to be self conscious, insecure, afraid. Made to call the mistreatment he was suffering love. And he escaped, yes. He put himself back together, yes. But he was still delicate.

“Oh baby,” you frowned, reaching forward and sweeping a lock of his sweat matted hair back behind his ear.

You felt as though you could actually physically feel your heart aching for him, the urge to take all of the pain he was feeling away doubling. You also felt as though fire was pumping through your veins, your anger at the woman you had felt at the woman you heard about for the first time tonight tripling.

“You’re not a problem. You’re just sick. Everyone gets sick. And no one should be forced to take care of themselves when they’re sick,” you stroked his hair, inching closer towards him from your seat on the bathroom floor.

“Especially not when they have someone who loves them so dearly. Because when you love someone, you take care of them. Even when it isn’t pretty,” you half-joked, trying to get a smile out of him.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice raw from illness.

“I love you too,” you pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

Half an hour later, you both laid in bed, Harry shirtless and lying on his back, you lying on your side facing him, lightly tracing patterns over his stomach to put it at ease. You were trying not to crowd him, giving him room to try and make him feel better and also to keep his mind clear.

“You know your Mum and Gemma actually mentioned that girl at dinner tonight,” you spoke softly. Harry just hummed in response, giving you permission to carry on. “She sounds like she was a real piece of work.”

“Yeah,” he rasped. “She clearly did a real number on me with her bullshit,” he turned his head to look at you.

It was your turn to hum in response.

“I guess I’ve been holding back a bit, in some aspects of our relationship. Or acting out of fear because of her but-” he sighed, “you’re not her. You’re nothing like her. You make me feel safe. You make this house feel like a home.”

It was at that moment, Harry decided he was going to make a change. He had to erase his fears. He had to re-learn the instincts that he should have. And he knew, without either of you having to say a word, that you both knew that. He knew that you would be there with him every step of the way.

A few moments passed, with you still tracing patterns into his belly, trying to bring comfort with your delicate touch.

“Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“When I get better can I- can I play you some of the songs I wrote?” He tried to remove some of the nerves from his voice, but she understood.

“If you feel comfortable playing them to me before everyone else, baby,” you spoke carefully.

“Of course,” he spoke without hesitation now.

Because after all, you weren’t everyone else. You were his forever.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry imagine #harry x reader #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #harry angst #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #one direction imagine #harry styles fluff #harry fluff

2K notes · View notes

words-by-slay-blog · 4 years

Text

Faker Than Snow on Tha Bluff

2014 was perhaps the best year of J Cole’s career.

Like now, that summer was a summer of unrest. Protests erupted not only in Ferguson, but in various cities across the country, in response to the police murder of an unarmed black man. The #BlackLivesMatter movement had reached national consciousness. They demanded justice against Darren Wilson, the murderer, and an end to police brutality.

While most celebrities remained silent, J Cole was eager to show his support. He showed his face at the Ferguson protests, in a show of solidarity. After that, he dropped one of his most memorable singles, “Be Free”. It wasn’t a usual J Cole song. Not only was he singing on it, but it was much more raw: a sad cry of frustration in response to the familiar spectre of Black death. It was melancholic; it was serious; it shed light on how many were feeling. He even performed the track on Late Night with David Letterman. A few months later, he dropped Forest Hills Drive, his magnum opus, and cemented his status as the quintessential “conscious” rapper. Many hip hop heads looked to Cole as a leader, a role model, an example for what rappers should strive to be. He became a voice for our generation.

Six years later, history would repeat itself. Again, the police killed another unarmed black man. In fact, other police murders came to light around the same time: Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, to name a few. Protests sprang up all over the country.

But this time, it was different. As days rolled by, the list of names grew and grew. The protests swelled more and more, reaching critical mass. Their demands were more far-reaching: defund the police and an end to white supremacy. Antagonized by police forces, these protests often turned to violent clashes. Despite this, more and more people showed out. What began in the city of Minneapolis became a global movement, of black people fed up with a world that doesn’t value their lives (and allies standing with them). It’s a moment that is both exciting and nerve-wracking. We haven’t seen this much momentum since the Civil Rights era. With this newfound leverage comes pressure: we don’t know when we’ll have a moment like this again.

Now, organizations and institutions rushed to make shallow demonstrations of support, if only to save face. Celebrities of all sorts tweeted messages of solidarity, some genuine, others to avoid public backlash. Statues are being taken down and streets renamed. But that only does so much.

Like last time, J Cole put out a song, presumably about current events. But it differed from “Be Free”. Rather than a reflection on #blm, it reads like a confession: he has much more to learn; he isn’t the woke leader people make him out to be; he wants to do more but doesn’t know how. And in doing so, he asks the black woman in the song, in the most “respectful” way he could, to sweeten her tone and get him up to speed.

And as you can expect, the public received his new song… differently this time. “Snow on the Bluff” itself became an enormous distraction, turning a long-deleted tweet into a social media firestorm.

I will say this straight up: this wasn’t it, chief.

And as a fan of J Cole, I’ll honestly say I’m disappointed. This is how he broke his silence? The issue is less so with the message, or how respectful he’s being, but more so with how he’s using his platform. Now is not the time to check a black woman’s tone. Black people of all genders are ticked off right now, if you couldn’t tell.

But bro… what did he do wrong? Didn’t he already make a song about this? Hasn’t he talked about these issues his entire career? He was being respectful: we don’t need another “Be Free”.

Maybe another “Be Free” isn’t what’s needed now. There’s been so many bars about police brutality and black plight: would another “Fuck the Police” really change anything?

But it’s impossible to ignore how big a platform J Cole has. He’s the man who went triple platinum with no features. He has an army of stans who hang onto his every word. As a voice for a generation, duty calls.

No one is asking him to become the spokesperson of the struggle. As Dave Chappelle said, “the streets are talking.” Activists on the ground, and educators who have done the reading are who we should listen to right now. The sheer size of Cole’s celebrity could drown out the voices of those on the ground. The communities in question can speak for themselves better than any platinum rapper can.

However, is that an excuse to stay silent? Or to be careless about how you use your platform?

The fact of the matter is this debate he sparked became more divisive than the tweet in question. Even if his intentions were pure, he unintentionally sicced his army of fans onto a fellow rapper who has been doing the work. (click here for more: https://www.nonamebooks.com/books)

Imagine what good he could do if he had just used his platform differently. Imagine if, instead of throwing up his hands and saying that he didn’t have the answers, he uplifted the voices of those who might.

It’s obvious that Cole cares deeply about these issues. He might do more behind the scene than we realize. But the question is, how can he do more with the voice and platform he has?

Yes, your commitment to the struggle shouldn’t be measured by how many tweets you post. But with great power comes great responsibility. This was a misuse of that power.

Maybe it was wrong to expect or hope for more from Jermaine. Maybe we are witnessing the limit of the traditional “conscious” rapper. But it’s a question all of us are wrestling with right now: how can we do more? It’s one Cole himself ponders at the end:

“But damn, why I feel faker than Snow on Tha Bluff?

Well maybe ‘cause deep down I know I ain’t doing enough”

#j cole #snow on tha bluff #noname #protest #blacklivesmatter #hiphop #social media #conscioushiphop

1 note · View note

lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

Text

Do you find musicians or athletes more attractive? I mean, I could find either one attractive, but I do love a guy that can play piano or guitar. I’m not into sports, but they do look good in their uniforms. How many siblings do you have? 2. If you could have an ice cream sundae right now, would you? Nah. I really want a brownie, though. Click shuffle on any music device. What’s the 12th song that comes up? I don’t feel like it. What’s your most used website? Tumblr.

Is there anyone you want to see in concert really bad? I just really want to go to a concert. I haven’t been to one in over 10 years. :O Do you like Abercombie? I did at one time. I haven’t shopped there in years now, though. Do you fight with your mom often? No. We have our bickering like families do, but we’re very close. Would you rather have your son have the name Daniel as first or middle name? I don’t plan on having kids, but I’m not big on the name Daniel at all. Nothing personal if that’s your name haha. Who is your best guy friend? Why are they? I don’t have one. Are your parents still together? Yes. Do you find yourself attractive? Nopeee. Have you ever just stood awake and thought about someone? No, I’ve never “stood awake” doing that, but I’ve stayed up late thinking about someone. Have you ever just felt like giving up? More times than I can count. Are you shy? Very. Do you regret? I have a lot of regrets. Have you ever felt alone? Yes. I feel that way a lot even though I’m not physically alone very much. It’s a different kind. Have you ever felt you were the “random face in the yearbook”? I’m just one among many. I’m sure not many people noticed me. Who do you go to when you need help? Depends on what I need help with, but likely my mom or brother. Have you ever just wanted to dance your stress out of you? No. Honestly, how are you feeling? Tired. Is it harder to tell someone you love them, or don’t love them? Telling someone I don’t love them would be harder because that’s hurtful. Which do you remember more: insults? or compliments? The negative stuff always plays on repeat. Are you a trouble-maker? No. Have you ever been sick of everything? Yeppp. I feel that way all the time. Have you ever felt like you are worthless? Yes. This survey is fun! -____- Can you trust someone with anything? Yes, my mom. When was the last time you were told you were beautiful? Aw, Lane recently said I was. What do you hear right now? I’m watching a YouTube video. Be honest, do you miss anyone? Yes, a few people. Where did your last hug take place? In the living room. Is there someone on your mind that shouldn’t be? No. Have you ever felt replaced? Yep. Hello there, what’s your name? Stephanie. Do you have romantic feelings for anyone? No. When was the last time you received a compliment? Lane recently complimented me. (: What would you say is your favorite food? Wingstop boneless garlic parm and lemon pepper wings, ramen, and Blaze Pizza. What color eyes does the person you like / love have? Are they pretty? Do you like Mexican food or any other foreign foods? I liked Mexican food a lot more when I was able to eat spicy food. I loveddd adding salsa and hot sauce to everything. I like some Chinese foods, but I rarely eat that anymore. It’s been quite awhile. I do like Italian food. What color is the keyboard you are currently using? Black. What are you planning on eating for dinner tonight if you haven’t already? I think I want pizza. Can you recite the alphabet backward? I could, but it’d take me longer. Do you eat chili when you get a hotdog, or do you like it plain? I don’t care for hot dogs, but I did used to eat them every once in a great while. Chili dogs weren’t bad. I did really like the hot dogs from Costco, though. Would you say it’s easy for people to make you smile or laugh? Yeah, usually. Do you own any dresses? If so, what colors are they? Not anymore, actually. I recently got rid of some clothes, mostly stuff from my closet, which consisted of my dresses. Would you say you drink more pop / soda than you should? Not anymore, but that definitely was the case for a long time. Up until 2 years ago. Would you rather have orange juice or milk with your breakfast? Ewww, neither. Give me coffee. How many different colors has your bedroom been painted? I’ve never painted it. Do you cuss? If so, do you ever cuss in front of your parents? Yeah, sometimes. I don’t cuss in front of my parents, though. I’m 30 years old, but it still feels weird haha. Especially the longer I go without doing so. Would you ever tell your mom about the things you’ve done sexually? Listen. My mom and I are very close, she’s my best friend. However, I wouldn’t want to discuss my sex life lol. I wouldn’t want to discuss that with anyone. Is there anyone out there who can make you cry very easily? Not a someone, but certain things definitely can. Do you have your ears pierced? If not, what do you have pierced? Yeah, my earlobes are. Has anyone ever told you that they think you have ADHD? No. How is the weather outside right this second? It’s 48 F currently. Have you ever disowned anyone in your family? For what reasons? No. There’s some family members that we’re not close with for certain reasons, but we’ve never disowned anyone.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

3 notes · View notes

jeanjauthor · 4 years

Text

No Fandom Flame Wars, But...

...I am prefacing this with the statement that I am NOT going to participate in any arguments over ANY of this. You have a right to your opinion, and I have a right to my own. Respect that. There is NO need for a fandom flame war of any sort (and y’all will be ignored if you try to ignite one with me). There is room for all sorts of viewpoints.

With that said...

Time for one of those Controversial Opinions™* that we keep seeing on Tumblr and Twitter, etc, ad nauseam...and here is my own (potentially very but who cares) Controversial Opinion:

I like the way The Witcher series has been plotted and filmed.

You don’t have to read any further (and I’m implementing a cut to avoid #spoilers for those who haven’t seen it yet), but that’s my take on it, and the TL;DR version of why is because The Show Is Making Me Think About All The Things In It.

This is a rare thing these days, because so much is spoon-fed to us in other shows...but I like it. And for me...it works.

The rest is behind a cut. Be warned, if you click the Keep Reading, you’ll be entering the *spoiler*-filled mists on those archaic medieval maps where cartographers usually put warnings like “Here Be Dragons” and such...

And yes, that IS a deliberate pun. *spoiler spoiler spoiler!* It was also a good episode, and yes, I want that tent. I just don’t want to have to transport it physically, yeesh...trust me, I KNOW how much tent that is to try to transport, the tent on the inside. (The one on the outside still requires a horse at the very least, but only one horse.). I’ve been playing around in the SCA, medieval society, for decades!

Anyway...on to why I like the series:

At first, I was hella confused. I literally had to rewind and repeat several time the scene where Renfri talks of Calanthe just having won her battle...when earlier, I’d seen Ciri telling Calanthe that “when you were my age”... (Which, on a side note, is what I thought was the age of 14 years old. Dunno why I stuck on that number, but apparently in the chronology she’s actually 11yo, I guess, when Ciri’s storyline takes place? Since Geralt left 12 years before, when she was still a nausea-stirring little zygote or whatever...but I digress.)

So the first episode confused me. But holy hellz ballz, the fight scene was freaking awesome! That was like...some grandmaster fight choreographer’s fightporn wetdream! Every move Geralt made in the fight against Renfri’s men was believable. Fast, realistic, hella good choreography! ...Gross, gory, and at a few points I could see hints of the CGI used, but I was actually rather grateful to see some of the CGI, because that kept me from flinching too much...though certain scenes later on definitely made me Look Away.

[Btw, for anyone watching, #spoiler for #implied #suicide #attempts. Also, magical #cannibalism, yuck.]

Anyway, that first episode was fascinatingly good in its fight choreography, Geralt was pretty to watch, and I found myself interested in what was going on.

I’ll also admit I was confused enough to go looking for spoilers, and found some comment somewhere explaining that the different scenes were being told non-sequentially. That each different main character was in a different time period. The post I read reassured the readers that, if we paid attention, we could figure out which stories were being told in which era, the more we went along.

THAT made sense to me...and I decided I’d give it a try...but to be honest, I wasn’t entirely wasn’t sure if they could pull it off.

I do think that is what has put a lot of people off, the way the story is initially being told, by the way. Some people have compared it to a (grimdark) version of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys...but I really don’t think that’s a decent comparison. Not because H:TLJ is better or worse in any way, but because it and X:WP were their own things, without consistent story-threads woven throughout each and every episode as a single tapestry.

...That’s actually a pretty good comparison. In fact, it’s so good, let’s use this as a metaphor for the difference between the two.

This is Hercules: The Legendary Journeys as tapestry art:

Here are several different tapestries. Each one is full of plantlife and people and animals. Sometimes the animals are mythical, like unicorns. Sometimes there are hunting dogs and horses. Often times there are flowers and fruits. A number of the tapestries have similar objects repeated over and over from one to the next...but for the most part, they are separate stories even if they have similar themes. This is H:TLJ. A series of separate or similar-themed tapestries. Sometimes you’ll even get some telling a progression...but for the most part, they’re a bunch of different tapestries woven by different storytellers.

This, on the other hand, is The Witcher as a tapestry:

...Most people will recognize this as the Bayeux Tapestry (Do NOT @ me about it being technically an embroidery, not an actual woven tapestry, shush!)...but what you may not realize is that I’ve taken pieces of it from the very long single image posted on Wikipedia (located here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayeux_Tapestry just click on the images on that page, click through, and find the really long super skinny horizontal version).

More than that, I’ve taken pieces from it, and mixed up where they come from in the chronology...but it is all still one and the same story.

These seemingly disconnected bits and pieces are like finding a bunch of chests in an old storage room in a cathedral somewhere, opening them up, and finding folded bits of cloth with magnificent images embroidered on them...but not knowing that you’ve opened the chest with panels 4-6 first, and that the next chest you open has panels 25-27, and the third chest you open has panels 13-15. You see these images, they’re fascinating, yet they seem disjointed and unconnected...but...they’re not.

We just have to put them into the right order to tell the full tale.

This is something we don’t get in storytelling. Not very often, at least! The storytelling invites us to put the pieces together. Now, I’ll freely admit they could’ve done a somewhat better job in the very first episode, and finding that spoiler-warning that the chronology is mixed up did help...but I do like to think I would’ve figured it out as I went along.

Yes, I only just started watching the series, after all 8 episodes were out of the first season (prequel season? whatever) so that all the spoilers were already out, yadda yadda. And yes, it’ll suck having to wait for the next season. I am not sure if they’ll keep telling the storyline in this same open-a-random-tapestry-chest fashion, but since I do know (haven’t watched it yet, but it’s next in the queue) that in the 8th episode, Geralt and Ciri finally meet (and he’s already met Yennefer), that we finally have most of the pieces spread out on the walls.

They may not be originally laid out in their proper order...but we have enough to put things in order. And that, dear readers, fans, etc, is our job to do, in the way this story is being told.

It is not for everyone. I freely admit it. But it does make those of us who stick with it invest more of ourselves in the story.

We’re the archaeologist finding these treasure chests full of these tapestry stories, and we’re just now realizing that this is a HUGE SINGLE TAPESTRY, with massively intricate details...some of which are just lending color to a scene, but others of which will be referenced later, or be a foreshadowing of something to come, or a flashback of what has already occurred.

That is why I truly like how this story is being told.

It’s not something I could enjoy within each and every story across all of creation...but I don’t need a bloody Bayeux Tapestry each and every time.

I got to puzzle out some really cool things. I got to experience several aha! moments. I had a number of wtf was that?? moments, too...and lord knows I got plenty of delicious eye-candy. (Also the scene of the half-paralyzed bard dropped into the midst of the orgy scene was freakin’ hilarious, because you know he was being tormented, heaven-and-hell all at one and the same time, the lustiest night of his life...and he could not participate, poor fellow.

Also, “Toss a coin to your Witcher” and the other songs are actually pretty decently done. I love the fact the actor playing Jaskier is the one actually singing these end-credit songs.

...One last thing. Some of the people don’t appear to age. That might give the impression that most do not...and that did lend some to the illusion of chronology confusion. In truth, most folks in this universe do age, but they’re mostly background characters. Calanthe and her husband showed signs of aging, Mousesack certainly aged, and Yennefer gets in a good crack at the bard about his crow’s feet, a common sign of aging, if not one instantly visible to most. (Since he doesn’t get many close-ups, you can’t tell he has crow’s feet...but neither can you not tell...so that and the quality & style of his clothes changing help tell you that he’s been aging.)

To be honest, your genetics does quite a lot to determine how “old” you will look. I knew a woman who looked like she was 92 (roughly the age my grandmother died) when she was actually only 62 (about a year before she died). At the same time, I knew a woman who was celebrating her 90th Birthday, but she looked like she was at most in her late 60s.

Some people don’t get grey hairs until they’re in their 60s. Some turn grey-haired in their 20s or 30s. When I think back on the differences in appearance for people like Calanthe, she did look younger in the earlier era scenes...and she did look older in the later era scenes. Plus, the better your diet and exercise are, the healthier and thus younger you’ll look...so it’s expected that a queen wouldn’t age nearly as fast as a commoner.

Additionally, when you have magically modified characters who cannot age, and they’re the main / primary characters...well, we really don’t spend nearly as much time looking at the secondary & tertiary characters. Yet they did put some effort into aging those characters appropriately.

So with that observation made, I think they did a reasonably good job...because they’re also dealing with the constraints of a production budget. Netflix took a risk on this series. They sunk a lot into the special effects, blood splatters, choreography, magic effects, etc. But I think it’s also a case of deliberately obfuscating the puzzle pieces. They didn’t go in for the overblown obviously older effects (makeup, CGI, whatever)...because they want their viewers to think about what we’re watching.

But I’ll bet that, if we go back and take a second look...we’ll see the little details of non-immortal (or at least regular lifespan) folks actually aging, if they get to appear in two different timelines. When you have a story this large and this long, however...not everyone will get to reappear.

Anyway...that’s my Controversial Opinion™. I genuinely like the way The Witcher has been told in its first season. For me, it genuinely works. I’ve had fun discovering and opening all the tapestry-boxes, and am having fun trying to fit together all the puzzle pieces of each story section so that I have the full chronology in my head.

I like the amount of time that I’ve had to invest in this story to make sense of it.

...And I especially like the use of the word “Fuck.” If you’ve watched the series, you know which one I mean. The one that was quietly said, in the very quiet room, in front of a whole bunch of very quiet people.

Very well said.

*applauds*

#*fake trademark but you gotta admit it's a common meme atm #The Witcher spoilers #mention of spoilers containing implied or off-screen attempted suicide

3 notes · View notes

wardoftheedgeloaves · 5 years

Text

China Story Time II: Learn Programming and Epidemiology the Very Hard Way

I haven’t posted more than two installments of my promised series on Chinese historical linguistics and dialectology. In lieu of progress on it, please gather round the campfire and enjoy this entirely unrelated story about the time I taught the summer camp from hell in Shenzhen. (Dialectology tie-in: we once had a cabbie who only [?] spoke Canto.)

I wish to emphasize that this story has not been embellished.

Summer in China is a sultry and slow-paced affair for the private-school English teacher--you stop teaching seriously in late May, school gets out in late June, and you don’t have to be back until early September. Your pay is good enough that you’ve got savings to last you the summer, but you could always use a bit of spare cash. Unless your social situation is good, your isolation (and the weather) doesn’t help your work ethic too much. Your life is lived at tea houses, reading thinkpieces and books and procrastinating on writing more thinkpieces and working on your Mandarin and getting around to that damned monograph. (Alternative English-teacher mode: hit the bars prowling for locals who may or may not fit within the (n/2)+7 rule, demolish a couple of six-packs’ worth of alcohol, hit the hay at 2:30 in the morning, wake up at noon, repeat. I was luckily never this much of a degenerate.)

As in the US, the affluent Chinese parent often sends their offspring to summer camp for some educational enrichment and peace and quiet at home. So it was that a recruiter offered me, and another English teacher (we’ll call him...Nick) in Chengdu, the chance to earn 7000 kuai (~$1050) each teaching programming in Shenzhen. A class in the morning from 9-12, repeated from Monday to Friday, with a chance for a second week in Lu’an, Anhui. Plane tickets and accommodation included, other details vague. Technically illegal--you’re not supposed to do any work outside of the job sponsoring your visa--but nobody cares about summer camps.

To learn programming, the students (and we) are provided with little inch-by-inch-by-inch plastic cubes with wheels called “Pocket-bots” or something of the sort. These are actually rather nifty little gadgets. You connect to them with your phone or computer in a spacious computer lab (or so the brochures say) and click and drag instructions to create and run programs. E.g., you might tell the bot to go forward for 10 seconds at speed 10, then check to see if it was on white (rather than black) paper, and sing a little song if it is, then turn left and repeat. The software allowed you to do if-loops, for-loops, and while-loops at the very least, which is pretty good for small kids. Satisfied that we would have the equipment needed to teach the class, we packed our Pocket-bots and arrived in Shenzhen on a sticky, hot, sunny July morning.

Now, a word on Shenzhen. In 1978 when Deng took the wheel, Shenzhen was a sleepy little fishing village of thirty thousand people whose only interesting feature was that it was right next to Hong Kong. This made it perfect for the early-80s experiments in capitalism, and over the next four decades it exploded (it now has 12 million people and a standard of living on par with Western Europe). As a result of its early rise to wealth and power, it’s home to the first private school in China, founded 1994. However, private schools in China tend to be boarding schools, and boarding schools tend to be out away from the city center where land is cheap and distractions are relatively few.

So this place is in the middle of nowhere, or as close to the middle of nowhere as it’s possible to get in the Pearl River Delta. It’s surrounded by forested mountains (Guangdong is surprisingly hilly). It’s about 95 (35) degrees, humid as hell, and in direct sunlight--July, south of the Tropic of Cancer. We’re in the kids’ dorm rooms (luckily we each get our own private dorm room with a private, cold-running shower.) We drop our bags, wash up, and go meet the kids.

And it turns out that a fifth of them are Americans! You see, this wasn’t just a programming camp--it was also an English and cross-cultural experience camp. Approximately 15 high-school kids from Florida and California were being flown out, all expenses paid, to be big-brother/big-sister with the Chinese kids, who were in late elementary school. The chaperone (we’ll call her Margaret; in fact I can’t actually remember her name, but it definitely wasn’t Margaret), the mother of one of the kids, was thoroughly perplexed--but, hey, a free trip to China.

So Nick and I go and look at the teaching rooms (this is about one in the afternoon). These aren’t the sparkling, spacious computer labs we saw on the website, oh no. We have a couple of primary school classrooms no more than about five meters by six, with laughably tiny kindergartner-sized chairs and tables. There’s a smartboard, which we can barely get to run and which we can’t connect to our computers to show the programs the kids are supposed to run. There’s no free access to the wifi. Instead, we have to get our teaching assistants to put their login credentials on every single device that needs to connect to the wifi--and since you have to have wifi to connect to the robots, well. In other words, it’s going to be a s***show, and we’ve got five mornings of it ahead of us.

We know the inevitable talk/confrontation with our boss/program coordinator is going to be a disaster, so we leave for a few hours to try and find a six-pack of Tsingtao. Remember how I said this was in the middle of nowhere? It was in the middle of nowhere. We walk out of the gates for a full kilometer (possibly more; the road meandered, and the terrain was by no means flat) past construction sites and dense forest bordering on jungle until we finally, finally reach an air-conditioned convenience store nestled between auto-repair shops, low-rise tile-walled tenements, light industry and eight-kuai noodle parlors. (Those of you who have been outside of a major city center in China will know the kind of neighborhood I’m talking about--not dangerous, by any means (except for the traffic), but boring, sprawling and not overly prosperous.) But they have beer, and we knock back two each along with a good liter of water.

We have a chat with the supervisor at about 9 o’clock that evening while the kids are engaging in...god, I don’t even recall. I think the Chinese kids were in bed, while the Americans were playing cards and vidya. Now readers who have spent much time in China or with Chinese organizations will know that it is a faux pas in China to admit fault, and an even bigger faux pas to play hardball to get somebody to admit fault. The result, usually, is deflection--our supervisor didn’t know about any of this, it wasn’t her fault, she would ask her boss to try and improve things.

(I don’t wish to come across as too hard on Chinese culture here. I think this is really a situation where American and Chinese culture are doomed to clash, and clash badly. If you fuck up in the US, you’re supposed to admit fault and apologize, at least theoretically--deflection and white lies are infuriating on the receiving end and the natural reaction is to start tearing them apart to get an admission of contrition. In China, the convention is often that you tell a white lie or deflect to save face--and if the other person you’re talking to is Chinese, they’ll often accept that even if it’s not really believed. The result in Chinese-American communication can be an arms race, where the American will get ticked off at the deflection and perceived dishonesty and start playing hardball, which prompts more deflection. Looking back on it now, it was clear that trying to play hardball with our supervisor was pointless--we were never going to get good computer labs or WiFi, and the only thing to do was to figure out something to do. But knowing that we’d at least theoretically been hired to teach programming, we endeavoured to do our best. (Remember, between flying all the Americans over and the company’s profit, the Chinese parents were getting fleeced.) Nick had recently discovered the stern precepts of Jordan Peterson after catching herpes-type-2 (that’s the bad kind) of the mouth from a liaison with his dermatologist, and reminded me that it was our duty to do the best we could by the students.

Day one: Monday.

There are about 70-75 kids in the program between the Chinese and the Americans, so we have about 35 each at least in classrooms of about fifteen square meters, sitting on tiny little kindergarten chairs at tiny little kindergarten desks (not so much of a problem for the Chinese elementary-schoolers, much more uncomfortable for the American high-schoolers). Our teaching assistants spend most of their time in the back playing on their phones after they’ve set the WiFi on each device, which takes about an hour to get worked out. (Remember, three-hour class with a fifteen-minute break). Each room has an underpowered air conditioner which succeeds in reducing the temperature from the mid-30s C to the upper 20s (from about 92 to 78 in freedom degrees) if the windows are closed, at the cost of any breezes.

And we run into the first problem. Your device uses WiFi to connect automatically and effortlessly to a nearby Pocketbot. That’s not a problem when you’re in a spacious computer lab with ten other people and a strong signal. When you’re in a tiny little room with thirty-five other people and a network that wouldn’t have been out of place in the last years of the Clinton administration, well.

Some kids couldn’t connect to their bot at all. Others were controlling four robots at once with a single device. Some were able to stay connected through the session, others’ internet kept crapping out every ten minutes.

After an hour and twenty minutes of this, we call a twenty-minute break.

easternestablishmentarian: “What the fuck do we even do?”

Nick: “No idea. Start in on the basic ideas of programming. Have the teaching assistants translate.”

We do. The teaching assistants are not all that happy about having to play translator, particularly since their English isn’t very good and the concepts are, well, complicated! I had some success in doing the teacher-as-robot routine you see in intro programming classes, where you have to tell the teacher exactly what to do (Keep going! *teacher-bot crashes into wall*), and extended this up to about half past eleven by making it a group activity where the Chinese kids had to direct their American big-sibling robots around the room. We spent about another fifteen minutes trying to do something, anything, with the robots--remember, we couldn’t show our laptop screens on the smartboard, which didn’t work, so we had to draw the program with chalk. At about 11:45 we just call it quits and let them leave for lunch early.

Right after lunch (which, incidentally, was extremely strange--the cafeteria staff had been instructed to try to make some sort of Chinese-Western fusion, with results like spaghetti with both tomato and soy sauce. If only they’d just stuck to good local dishes, of which there are hundreds, but oh well...) we call an emergency meeting with Margaret.

Margaret: You guys aren’t going to bail on us, are you? I have no clue what’s going on.

Me: No, but it’s clear that there’s no way to do programming and the kids’ll hate it. Let’s just do a regular summer camp.

Later that day we go back out for more beer and sketch out a plan. We don’t have WiFi or devices worth a damn, so electronics are off. However, we do have a campus of at least twenty or thirty acres filled with small fields and six-story dorms and classrooms connected by a labyrinth of walkways. (During the school year, the school is home to about three thousand students, all boarding, so it’s the size of a couple city blocks at least.)

We call a meeting with our supervisor.

Nick: This isn’t working. We can’t do programming.

Supervisor: Well, do you have any other ideas?

Nick: We could do sports and games.

Supervisor: Oh, I think that will be wonderful!

(Nick, later: “How much are these parents paying again?”)

Day two: Tuesday.

We start with Sardines, which degenerates into chaotic hide-and-seek but keeps them occupied for a good hour and a half. The teaching assistants are sent to look for athletic equipment like basketballs, which they’re not too happy about. Midway through break we run out of cups.

Us: “It’s 35 degrees outside and we don’t have enough water. There are only two water dispensers for 80 people and no more cups.”

Teaching assistant: “Oh, well, we didn’t know we would run out. I don’t know where the water is, maybe they can bring some tomorrow.”

Us: *sigh*

We discover that some air-conditioned buses (dlory! dlory! hallelujah!) stop right in front of the school and run towards a major commercial center. We go out for hotpot.

Nick: “So, fun fact--I’m actually on a spousal visa. I married a local chick for visa purposes.”

Me: “Huh.”

Nick: “Yeah, we divorced, but the immigration department doesn’t have access to divorce records and my visas’s still valid. Can’t technically work on it, though.”

Day three: Wednesday.

Capture the Flag, followed by semi-structured time in which the Americans are divided into groups, assigned Chinese students, and instructed to create activities. We run out of cups again.

Nick: *drinking straight from the water dispenser tap*

Me: “Didn’t you say you caught...”

Nick: “Shut up, easternestablishmentarian.”

Me: “...”

Me: “There are seventy-five kids here.”

Nick: “Just shut up.”

I buy my own personal supply of bottled water that afternoon. He did agree to only fill up a bottle from that point onwards.

Us: “Supervisor, please tell us--will there be WiFi when one of us teaches programming with the robots in Lu’an in Anhui?”

Supervisor: “Oh, uh, I don’t know, I am not going to Anhui.”

Us: “Please find out.”

Day four: Thursday.

It being sunny and slightly cooler, we take the kids on a hike through a back trail that goes by a farm and into the woods. Guangdong proves to be home to some terrifyingly large arthropods, none of which are aggressive.

After lunch, we debate who will go on to Lu’an. Nick makes a good case for needing the money, so I cede it (in part because Anhui is a notoriously boring and underdeveloped province, and Lu’an is only its second- or third-biggest city).

Us: “So, supervisor, please tell us.”

Supervisor: “Oh, yes, there is no WiFi for the summer camp in Anhui, I asked.”

Us: “But Nick’s going to be teaching robots again?”

Supervisor: “Well, maybe he can also teach something else, like English, but yes, it’s a robot camp.”

Us: “But you need WiFi to work with the robots.”

Supervisor: “Oh, I’m not the supervisor in Anhui, just here in Shenzhen, so I didn’t know.”

Day five: Friday.

After a laughably pointless closing ceremony, we collect our paychecks (in cash) and head into Shenzhen, where Nick tries to send it out.

Bank teller: “So, uh, what are you doing in China?”

Nick: “I’m visiting family, it’s a spousal visa.”

Bank teller: “OK, so I don’t think this is possible, you have the tax form?” (note: this is quite common for foreigners, even those on legal visas--foreigners’ money has all sorts of systems and regulations surrounding it that most bank tellers don’t know how to handle (because there are so few foreigners), and to avoid losing face they will often just tell you that it’s not possible to do what you want to do.)

At this point, I’m starting to shake my head furiously in Nick’s direction--get us out of here before they start asking questions about where this money came from and call immigration. After two hours, we give up.

Me: “You could have gotten us deported.”

Nick: “Nah, man, they’re just clueless bank tellers.”

I fly back to Chengdu the following day seven thousand kuai richer, while Nick hangs on until Sunday and then flies to Lu’an with the Americans, where another group of Chinese kids get their parents fleeced for robots that don’t work (though, as he told it, things worked out fine, kind of.) The kids, incidentally, were great about the whole incident--the Chinese kids I think in part because their lives are so structured that just getting to run around was a breath of fresh air for them. The Americans were fairly willing to work around the absurdity. Nobody got deported and nothing’s appeared in the news about an epidemic of the sort of disease that schoolchildren aren’t supposed to get.

So we come to the moral of the story, children: all’s well that ends well, and buy your own water.

10 notes · View notes