#it felt apt after whatever ^^^ that little performance was

[eddiegayass]

jacobglaser >>> eddiegayass

[stuffeddeer]

hi hi not sure if you're taking request right now but if you are could you make an emperor x reader fic he doesn't get enough love (The Apothecary Diaries)

Antisocial Socialite | The Apothecary Diaries | The Emperor x reader

hi anon!!! not sure if this is what you wanted haha tbh i didn't know the emperor had fans like that LOL - hope you enjoy!

Being a concubine had its perks, ones you cherished dearly. You were able to do as you pleased — granted permission to read freely, access to paper and charcoal, everything you had required to be happy was at your fingertips. The loneliness didn't feel like a drawback either.

The eunuchs that were around the most were instructed merely to keep an eye on the inner workings, ensuring safety and compliance - they wouldn't mess with you as long as you left them alone. Various laundry maids and other inner court ladies kept their heads down around concubines, bowing without a word when passing by or shielded to their corner of the Inner Palace away from those there for the Emperor. Other concubines kept their distance from each other, all technically rivals in the race for the Emperor's heart (and heir).

The only people you would have consistent contact with were ladies-in-waiting, however, being such a low ranking concubine you were barely permitted to have any - there just wasn't the room. That didn't bother you as much as other concubines, always having preferred solitude. It's why the loneliness that came with this position wasn't a problem- wasn't a con against the list of pros.

Pro: - Everyone leaves you alone.

That may not be worthy enough to be at the very top of the list (and you're sure other concubines wouldn't have it under the same category at all) but it was truly your favorite part of this role. Many concubines come from royal or royal-adjacent backgrounds - the more royal, the higher one's rank. These concubines tended to have sour attitudes at the loneliness of the Inner Palace.

It made sense, of course. These ladies were going from likely their family's precious jewel, the center of attention, to just another flower in the garden, never to be picked. You were no exception, hailing from a similar background, doted on previously and given to the Emperor as a sign of goodwill and standing within the court. And, just like the rest of the flowers, you'd slipped by unnoticed - lower ranking royal to lower ranking concubine.

Settling in such a position came so, so easily to you in comparison.

The life you lead before was one you detested, grueling every waking moment as you were pampered and prodded (the pampering wasn't too bad, you suppose) and pushed to and fro. Always on your best behavior, always surrounded by servants or staff, always obligated to smile and do as you're told. Putting on a performance everywhere you went at every hour was exhausting.

Coming to the Rear Palace was nerve-racking at first, assuming that not only would you live the same life shackled to your draining routines but that it would have higher stakes, since the Emperor would be watching your every move. Looking back, you honestly felt a little embarrassed at said assumption. Of course the Emperor wouldn't look your way, he had much more important matters and much more important concubines to tend to.

And very quickly after arrival you were happy. Being the Emperor's concubine granted you the pleasure to call for what you pleased, spending your waking hours with your nose buried in whatever book eunuchs deemed apt and strolling the emptiest parts of the grounds on your own.

Enjoying your time came so easily, you hardly noticed the others in the palace anymore, no longer bothered by maids gossiping with each other about some supposed new eunuch or which concubine the Emperor is taken with most. You were so good at ignoring the presence of others, you seemed to have done just that to perhaps the only person you shouldn't.

The Emperor finally had a few moments to spare. On this particular day, his workload had slowed, allowing for time to visit his concubines. However, the weather was so nice out, he found himself stopping at a garden in the Rear Palace on his way to visit his flowers. It was rather vast and as colorful as late spring could be, the flowers being only the most vibrant of beauties - just like the Emperor's concubines.

And there one sat, a concubine he couldn't quite place. He must've not called on this particular one, surely a lower rank than he tended to visit. Face buried in a book, the Emperor found himself intrigued at the one before him, deciding to take a seat on the opposite end of the bench.

It was such a nice day out, nary a cloud in the sky but still a small breeze to keep temperatures bearable. You'd decided the current book entrapping you in its words should be enjoyed outside on a fine day such as this, combining your two favorite pastimes of reading and strolling the grounds into one. Could you truly be faulted for falling steadily into the words of an author so charming?

The smile on your face was one you were unaware of, showing itself without your knowledge at the exciting contents of the story. You were flying through this book a little too quickly, almost upset by how the remaining pages seemed to dwindle. To try and combat reaching the ending so soon, you sigh and close the cover, a fingertip slid between the pages to keep your place.

Eyes closed, you let the wind brush past your face, enjoying the serene moment just a second longer. A silent sigh passes your lips when you open your eyes once again, taken for a moment by the beauty of the flowers - before seeing something in your peripheral vision.

Startled, you turn to see the Emperor himself to your side. Feeling your heart stop momentarily is scary, though even that can't hold a candle to realizing you'd ignored your sudden very important visitor. This causes you to quickly stand, bowing with your sleeves pulled to cover the bottom half of your face. Neither of you say anything for a moment so you decide to take your leave.

Three days later is when you're called on by the Emperor. Part of you thought he must not have realized who you were that day, having gone so long without greeting him. Hearing from Rear Palace Manager Jinshi while walking about the grounds that the Emperor was waiting for you was startling. You had quickly returned to your chambers, speed walking through the Rear Palace to land at your smaller housing, one befitting a lower rank such as yourself.

Truthfully, you were annoyed when the shiny eunuch had spoken to you. It was invigorating being in your position, finally able to do as you pleased without the drawbacks of constant moderation. You hadn't done anything technically wrong so there was no fear of chastising when you entered your quarters. The worst that would happen is... well, is that he'd gift you away to a foreign envoy, a high ranking noble or a medaled military official. That was a bit scary to think of but you'd come to terms with the reality long ago.

Bowing, your hands clasp in front of your face. "My Lord," comes quietly, a polite greeting as you bow nearly onto one knee. Just because you technically haven't done anything wrong doesn't mean you intent to poke the bear.

The Emperor waves his hand before gesturing to the chair across from him at your small dining table. "Please, sit."

You do just that.

"I thank you for visiting me," you begin, sliding into the seat across from him and pushing down on your skirt with your hands, ensuring the fabric doesn't retain any creases. "Though, if I may ask, to what do I owe the pleasure?" It's the polite version of the why are you here, please get out that thankfully dies on your tongue before it's too late.

"Am I not allowed to visit my concubines?" He smiles almost teasingly.

A half laugh of "Aha," passes your lips. Honestly, after such a long time isolating yourself and only keeping books for company, you seem to have lost your ability to hold proper conversations. This antisocial behavior may have caused you to shoot yourself in the foot. "My apologies, my Lord. I hadn't mean to imply that." Though in your defense, you weren't anticipating an audience with the Emperor.

"Of course not," the Emperor easily brushes past it, causing you to feel much more at ease. "I came to see you. I was intrigued by your, well, avoidance of me."

"That wasn't on purpose, I swear," you bow your head slightly, not able to fully while seated. "I had been engrossed in the book I was reading at that time. I'm sorry to have offended you." Did that come out right? you find yourself wondering.

The Emperor stares for a moment before tapping the wood top of the table pensively. "Must have been an interesting book."

A curt nod is the best you can give for a reply, feeling a little sheepish as you overthink your apology. The last thing you want is to disgrace your family and leave them with nothing more than your head.

At said nod, the Emperor stands up. "Tomorrow. We'll have tea together to discuss it. Are you free?"

Quickly, you stand up as well, hands clasped in front of you as you bow. "Of course," you're quick to confirm. Even if you weren't free (which you always are), you'd move whatever else was in the way - everyone would. He's the Emperor.

"Then I'll see you again tomorrow," the Emperor smiles, his words kind as he stands as tall as always. He seems almost excited. It's hard to be sure, his standard content face and proud gait not giving anything away, but something about the gleam in his eyes and his head tilted slightly back as he leaves makes you sure of it.

Once again, a single nod had been given in response to him, covering the bottom half of your face as he leaves. The pinch you suddenly tug from your skin doesn't wake you up - there's no way this is a dream. You suppose it's time to finally finish that book.

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

a/n: thank you to my lovely gc for helping me come up w/ a plot for this chapter lololol love you guys

There wasn’t a name for what you and Sae-Byeok were doing.

No labels. No conversations about it.

Just hands pulling at clothes in dressing rooms before shows. Just stolen kisses in the back of the van when no one was looking. Just the quiet way she would press you against a wall, lips on your neck, fingers gripping your waist like she couldn’t help herself.

It was reckless. It was secret.

And it was happening a lot.

You weren’t sure when it became routine, but it had.

You’d be getting ready for a performance, adjusting your in-ear monitors, fixing your outfit—and then, suddenly, Sae-Byeok would be pulling you into a corner, mouth against yours, hands slipping under your shirt, breathing you in like she needed this before she could go on stage.

And you let her.

Because, truthfully, you needed it too.

The only rule? No one could know.

And so far, you had done a decent job of keeping it a secret.

But then—

Jisoo walked back into your lives.

And everything shifted.

The first time you saw her, you almost didn’t recognize her.

Jisoo stood near the entrance of the venue, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, looking hesitant—like she wasn’t sure if she should even be here.

The last time she had been around, things hadn’t ended well.

She had walked away from the band. From all of you. And her leaving had hurt—especially for Sae-Byeok.

For a second, no one said anything.

Then Ji-Yeong, ever the one to break tension, let out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Jisoo gave a small, sheepish smile. “Hey.”

Se-Mi tilted her head. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

Jisoo nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

No-Eul crossed her arms. “So, why are you here?”

Jisoo took a breath. “Because… I miss you guys.”

Silence.

Then—

Ji-Yeong huffed. “Damn it. Now I can’t be mad at you.”

Se-Mi rolled her eyes. “You were never mad to begin with.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to pretend for dramatic effect.”

Jisoo let out a small laugh, but her eyes flickered to Sae-Byeok.

And that’s when the tension returned.

Because Sae-Byeok was mad.

Or maybe not mad—just… wary.

You knew her well enough by now to recognize that stiffness in her shoulders, the way her hands tightened into fists at her sides.

Jisoo took a step closer. “Sae-Byeok.”

Sae-Byeok didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Jisoo sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Sae-Byeok’s jaw clenched.

Everyone was watching. Waiting.

Finally—after what felt like forever—Sae-Byeok exhaled sharply and muttered, “Whatever.”

Which, in Sae-Byeok language, was as close to I forgive you as Jisoo was going to get.

Jisoo smiled, relieved. “So… does this mean I’m not banned from watching you guys perform?”

Ji-Yeong grinned. “Depends. You buying us drinks after?”

Jisoo laughed. “Yeah, yeah. My treat.”

And just like that—

She was back.

Sae-Byeok didn’t say another word, just turned away and went back to tuning her guitar.

But you knew her well enough to see it.

She wasn’t over it.

Not yet.

You found her alone in the dressing room, sitting on the couch, pulling at the wrap around her wrist—a lingering injury from too much guitar playing.

You closed the door behind you.

“She’s not the same person she was before,” you said softly.

Sae-Byeok didn’t look up. “Maybe.”

You stepped closer. “But you’re not either.”

That made her pause.

You sat down beside her, close enough that your thigh brushed against hers. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of her skin.

Sae-Byeok sighed, finally looking at you.

“You think I should just forgive her?”

You hesitated. “I think… you should stop holding onto it if it’s only hurting you.”

She scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say.”

You tilted your head. “Is it?”

Her gaze flickered to your lips.

Your breath caught.

Because you knew that look.

And sure enough—

A second later, she was kissing you.

It was slower this time. Less desperate. More… something else.

Something dangerous. Something that made your stomach twist.

Because this wasn’t just some pre-show distraction.

This was something else.

And when she pulled back, her lips barely brushing against yours, she whispered—

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart pounded.

Neither did you.

Sae-Byeok didn’t want to talk to Jisoo.

She had been avoiding it all night—keeping her distance, answering in clipped responses whenever Jisoo tried to make conversation—but eventually, Jisoo cornered her in the hallway outside the dressing rooms, away from the others.

“Just give me five minutes,” Jisoo said, voice low, almost pleading.

Sae-Byeok exhaled sharply. “Fine. Talk.”

Jisoo hesitated, shifting on her feet. “I meant what I said earlier. I really am sorry.”

Sae-Byeok crossed her arms. “I don’t need your apology.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

Sae-Byeok clenched her jaw. She hated this—hated the way Jisoo was looking at her, like she was trying to dig up something that Sae-Byeok had already buried.

Jisoo sighed. “I wasn’t in a good place when I left. I made shitty choices. I hurt people I cared about.” She paused, eyes searching Sae-Byeok’s face. “I hurt you.”

Sae-Byeok looked away, staring at the wall. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Jisoo took a step closer. “It does to me.”

Sae-Byeok stiffened. Jisoo was too close now, standing right in front of her, and Sae-Byeok could feel the weight of her gaze—like she was waiting for something.

“I miss you,” Jisoo murmured.

Sae-Byeok frowned. “Don’t.”

But then—

Before she could react, before she could even process what was happening—

Jisoo leaned in and kissed her.

Sae-Byeok’s body went rigid.

And then—immediately—she shoved Jisoo off of her, hard enough to make her stumble back.

“What the fuck, Jisoo?” Sae-Byeok snapped, eyes blazing.

Jisoo looked at her, startled. “Sae—”

“No.” Sae-Byeok wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, fury burning in her chest. “You don’t get to do that. Not after everything.”

Jisoo’s face fell. “I thought—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” Sae-Byeok cut in, voice sharp. “It’s not like that. I’m not like that with you.”

Jisoo flinched.

Sae-Byeok shook her head, turning away. “I shouldn’t have even come out here—”

But then—

A movement in the corner of her eye.

A familiar figure.

Sae-Byeok’s stomach dropped.

Because there—standing at the end of the hallway—

Was you.

And the look on your face—

The hurt. The betrayal. The way your hands curled into fists at your sides—

It hit harder than any punch ever could.

Sae-Byeok’s breath caught. “Wait—”

But you were already walking away.

Fast.

Too fast.

Sae-Byeok cursed under her breath and ran after you, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Wait!” she called, but you didn’t stop.

Didn’t even look at her.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She had to fix this.

Before it was too late.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[olderjodijournals]

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1990

Yesterday was awful. I was so pissed at Russ. For the last 5 mornings, during the wee hours of the morning, it was freezing. Later on between 7:00-11:00, it would turn into a sauna. I woke up for two reasons. One was the fucking radiator in the kitchen would clank so loud, you could probably hear it downtown. The other is that I’d have major asthma attacks due to it. It would get so hot in here that my windows would be wet. I yelled on Russ’s machine, asking what it’s gonna take for the heat to be evened out and he stopped up to adjust the thermostat. If this happens continuously, I’ll make partial rent payments and if he fights it he’ll wish partial rent problems were the only problems he’s had with me. Otherwise, he’s a nice guy and the best landlord I’ve ever had. He doesn’t do this deliberately, he just has no brains when it comes to heating.

Today, later on, I’m definitely gonna get the fuck outa this apartment. Where to, I do not know, but I’ve got to get out.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1990

I fell asleep shortly after 11 PM, after seeing the Tai Babilonia story, then at 1:45, I woke up for no reason at all. At least I didn’t wake up cuz of an asthma attack like I did yesterday morning and several previous mornings. I feel much better now and for the last 5 days, I’ve had 4-6 ciggies.

Soon I’m going to try to go back to sleep so I can join Andy on job-hunting trips. Not a job for me, for him of course, but it’ll get me out of the apt.

I’d like to sleep with Shadow, but he keeps waking me up.

I had a great visit with Tammy and the kids, and also a great day with Brenda. Sarah’s adorable and she’s got so much hair on her head. Everyone in the family was born with lots of hair.

John came over for a half-hour tonight and met Brenda and Bill.

Oh, I wish I knew my test scores! I want so badly to go to the academy. I suppose, though, I won’t be going for whatever reason cuz I want to go badly. Of course, that is until I can get anything going musically.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1990

Well, I’m not going to be sleeping for a hell of a long time. I never got up yesterday till 9pm. I had woken up in the early afternoon but felt like shit so I went back to sleep. Not too much has happened since I last wrote. I’ve done some pretty nice drawings, been pissed at Russ cuz he’s got the heat off from 11pm–6am, been a little depressed cooped up at home and wanting to sing. Lastly, been frustrated and scared over my bronchitis.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1990

I am waiting to have my hair trimmed at Hair Performance by Linda. My top layer is incredibly fried. Also, I need my bangs trimmed.

Brenda’s very sick today so I’m going to be going to Martha by bus and it is incredibly freezing out!

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1990

I haven’t written in a while which I sometimes don’t. Last thing I see I wrote about was getting my hair trimmed. Linda trimmed my bangs and my top layer. My top layer was and still is pretty much fried with split ends. I have split ends everywhere. She was shocked at the weight I lost and how long my hair’s gotten. I haven’t seen her in 3 years or so. Linda hasn’t seen me at my skinniest though since I’ve gained 8 pounds. Funny thing is that it looks like I gained double, like 16 pounds. Of course, that’s cuz I’m so short. I no longer despise being short as I’ve realized the many advantages of being short as I’ve gotten older.

Andy’s here now asleep. He came over two nights ago, too. We made some calls this time. Last night we played Crazy 8’s which we haven’t done since we were kids at the beach. Also, we played the piano.

I’ll write later as I’m exhausted. For the last two months or so I’ve been sleeping at night, but I was up all night cuz I slept too many hours yesterday.

[morimyth]

Practicing extreme vocals with anxiety, in a three story apt, with folks living both above and below you, is a lot like having a private concert thru the wall. You're doing your best, and just hoping you're not a bane on someone else's existence, while trying to not let the Fear(tm) affect your singing, or worse, your practice schedule.

My upstairs neighbors like soft country and croony things. My downstairs neighbors like mainstream alt rock and pop. I like harder stuff, extreme vocals and metal.

Let me be clear that we all have different schedules, and have not had a single face to face interaction since we moved in, us in July, the upstairs neighbor in August, and last month the downstairs neighbor moved in their partner.

We communicate thru the walls like the introverted human rats we are, kicking the floor if we're in the shower and the water gets turned on, little things like that, and I found it to be oddly charming. Maybe they're cool after all, I thought.

This place was renovated last in the 90s, with dark, pressboard walls and drop ceilings, so it might as well be two thin sheets of foam between each of us. This was extremely unsettling at first!

I have a mic and PA system in the apt that I use, that I keep turned to a good volume, so it's a full sound I can vibe with, but not So Loud it Vibrates All The Walls.

At first it sucked ass. I felt like I needed to be so quiet to accommodate their space, and it was stifling. I struggled a lot internally to even practice at all while a neighbor was home. I was so afraid of the Noise I make being ridiculed, or worse, that someone would call the cops. I let it mess me up for a while!

One day, I decided to swallow my fear of being perceived, and practiced anyway. I never practice past 10pm bc of local curfews and such, thinking if they did the worst and called the cops, it wouldn't be a big deal since I wasn't breaking noise ordinances or whatever. I told myself that if anyone had a problem, I could trust that they would come say something, and I started practicing whenever the mood struck, instead of when no one was home and hoping they wouldn't return before I was done.

After some time, I got that they weren't gonna call the cops at least, so I slowly became more comfy letting it out when they were home, but I still had trouble convincing myself they weren't annoyed, but no matter when I practiced (within reason), nothing happened. No one came knocking on the door, or stomped on the floor like I was scared they would.

Cool, I can work with this, I thought.

Even so, I was still anxious. I felt like our indirect interactions needed something more direct. An acknowledgment that yes, we are strangers stuck living veryclosetogether, but we are still humans, and still need to have outlets to be creative and to feel okay with doing that.

Last week, I began sating my anxiety by saying mindful things into the mic during practice, like I was giving a performance, bc at the end of the day, I am. Just a weird, one degree removed sort of performance. I wanted to reflect in a way they could hear that I see them and don't wanna be a bother, but that I'm still gonna do what I love doing.

"Thank you for your patience, we got one more for ya and then we'll get outta your hair."

"Tip your bartenders, cuz this next one is heavy enough to shake the foundations."

"And we're done! You've been a Beautiful audience, thank you so much!"

Stuff like that.

Once I started doing this, at the end of my session I had heard voices in response, and at first I thought they were laughing at me, bc it was muffled thru my ceiling, but no! My upstairs neighbor is just a "woo" girl! She was cheering!!

I tell ya, my whole heart felt that shit. After months of being scared, my neighbor was cheering, whooping, hollering even. I was elated.

Upstairs neighbor sings in the mornings now, and downstairs neighbor I hear singing in the evenings.

I'm hearing them sing right now!!

They sound so good!!!!

I'm so happy to be a "bad" influence.

Y'all, I might just cry.

[binunus]

college bf!rocky

a/n next is our rock and aegyo king sorry sanha park minhyuk !! also I was going to post this yesterday :( but me and my roommates got a little too lit for valentine’s and I literally sat for 7 hours straight in zoom so I couldn’t finish it until now but !! I hope you loves enjoy!!

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ word count: 4.9k

_________________________________

alright aright alrightttt

we’re gonna switch it up a little bit

add a little flavor

because as much as I would love to say that college bf!astro all got their partners in a cute and smooth sailing way

we all know relationships aren’t that easy

but before we get into how you and rocky met

major: dance

are we surprised? no

rocky is a prodigy in dance

he’s been dancing since he could walk

he started choreographing at age 6

it just made sense for him, like even his parents were like go pursue dance, you’re not a law or business type of kid

he can master any type of dance from jazz, to ballet, to street, to contemporary, to tango, whatever you can think of

he’s roommates with music tech!jinjin

jin literally takes care of him all the time bc rocky??? when he comes back to the apt after dance practice?? dead weight

only passes his gen ed classes bc eunwoo tutors him

if it weren’t for the boys, rocky would literally live in the dance studio

they make sure to drag him out for fun and food at least once a week

or they join and keep him company while he’s practicing

have they gotten noise complaints before while messing around in the dance studio? yes

rocky is loud alright, especially when he’s with astro

he’s a perfectionist, literally will not leave the studio until he’s 100% satisfied with his progress

oh the amount of times myungjun and jin nag at him to take care of his health

now now

you’re also a dance major

people could say that you and rocky are the top two dancers of your year

gasp a rivals to lovers au??? you betcha baby

granted you switched into a dancer major your second year so rocky technically had seniority

but boom baby as soon as you made your appearance, it rocked his world

now im not saying rocky’s cocky bc obviously he’s a cute hardworking humble boy

but was he used to always being placed first in evaluations or getting the highest marks??? yeah

so the first time you placed first and he placed second??? it lit a bit of a fire in him

he’s seen a ton of good dancers in his time, but no one has ever matched his capabilities better than you

there was an unspoken rivalry between you two, everyone knew about it 

you both always wanted to upstage the other

there was always a tension whenever you two were in the same room

but like...have either of you ever really talked to each other besides side remarks in class?

no

and it didn’t really help that the whole dance department basically pit you up against each other to see who was really the best dancer of your year

so you and rocky never had the proper introduction to a friendship, it just went straight to rivalry 

and then came the announcements for the end of the year showcase

and instead of putting on a solo, the department chairs decided to have you and rocky perform a duet

and you’ve never worked with him before so you were dreading the first time you met up

you to your roommate: ugh i can’t believe im partnered up with rocky, that arrogant rude–

your roommate: have you ever even talked to him, y/n? he’s actually very nice

you: no...but that’s what he wants you to believe!

your ego sorta just went along with the whole thing

and rocky was 15 min late to your meeting bc he was out eating food with the guys so your patience?? very thin

literally as soon as he stepped into the dance studio, the air turned stuffy

rocky could feel you glaring at him and he just smirks?? 

rocky: did I make you wait long y/n?

you: yeah you did

he liked pushing your buttons?? idk he just felt satisfaction knowing that any small of action of his affected you that much

it made him feel like he was winning or whatever

and god it took literally forever for you two to decide on a song and genre of performance for the showcase

you wanted contemporary, he wanted ballet

you were literally disagreeing so much on it that you had to ask Siri to flip a coin

and then you fought and said that Siri was rigged when it chose tails (contemporary)

so you decided on a happy? mix of both

rocky at the end of your first meeting: i get that we’re not exactly friends, y/n, but we have to work together so let’s at least be professional

you: i can if you can

rocky: fine

you two literally bicker like five year olds on a playground

even the guys are like ???? why are you being so childish ???

you have 2 months of preparation until the showcase and you start meeting once a week for choreography and practice since given the assignment

you two are pretty civil for the most part, you make the contemporary parts and he makes the ballet parts and then you combine it when you meet up and see how it can incorporate and complement each other

there’s not much joking around ?? like you know how rocky’s a clown when he’s teaching astro choreography?? it’s not like that at all

and honestly you two are too caught up in your rivalry and tension to notice that your styles really match and highlight each other well??

there’s definitely a lot of “i could do this better than you” from both sides

i repeat: you are children

and then there’s this one practice where you and rocky are trying a pas de deux for the first time

(i literally looked this term up, it’s basically what jungkook and jimin from bts did during the 2020 mma black swan intro...if you haven’t seen it, watch it bc it is perfection mmm chefs kiss)

and you don’t know if it’s because you didn’t have enough momentum or rocky didn’t prep himself enough for the lift but he ends up dropping you and you both fall

and you both immediately start blaming each other for the mishap

until you lift your hand to point at him and it just hurts

it’s like a switch goes off, rocky’s immediately concerned and he’s like gently taking your hand like: holy shit are you okay??

you shake your head and you’re wincing whenever you try to move it

you: ow fuck rocky, I think it’s sprained

and he suddenly feels so guilty, like he goes silent

you: can we stop for today? I’m gonna go get this checked out, make sure it’s not broken

rocky: do you want me to go with you?

you: no. I’ll see you next week.

boy he feels so bad, he texts you throughout the course of the following week asking if you’re okay, asking your roommate if you’re okay, telling you he’s sorry that he dropped you

you didn’t respond much, not bc you felt weird texting him–well, you did a little bit shhh–but bc you were beating yourself up for getting injured a month before the showcase

you show up to practice the next week with your wrist in a compression bandage

and he doesn’t greet you with a quip like he usually does, he immediately grabs your wrist (gently) and he’s like inspecting the bandage

you: uh...the doctor said I should be careful with it for a week or two if i want it to heal faster. so don’t bitch at me if i’m not going all out

rocky: y/n...i’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to injure you, it was my fault that we didn’t execute the pas de deux

you just shrug: it was both our faults...if I didn’t fall on my wrist maybe we could have avoided this little obstacle

rocky: if I caught you correctly, you wouldn’t have even fallen

you: are we really arguing right now about this??

and then the two of you just laugh??? 

this is the first real pleasant interaction you’ve had with him

and you notice like wow rocky had a nice smile

you: i should be back to normal before the showcase so we should be fine

rocky: don’t push it though while we’re practicing alright? if your wrist starts hurting then stop, and don’t even think about doing any floor choreo

the atmosphere between you and rocky change after that

he becomes pretty concerned about your recovery–and maybe it’s bc he still blames himself for the cause of it

each night before your set practice days, he always shoots you a text asking how you’re feeling and how your wrist is doing

he brings ice packs, painkillers, and extra bandages during your practices just in case you need it

and you’re actually pretty touched by his concern

about two weeks before the showcase, your wrist is back to full movement and you’re like excited to actually practice to your best ability

from now on you see each other twice a week, just to get that detail and fine-tuning perfected

rocky’s still a bit hesitant to have you go full out but you reassure him that you’re fine

you both try the pas de deux again the day you take your bandage off 

and you can see that he’s nervous to try it

you: rocky, i’m fully healed now. we haven’t practiced this move since the first time and we need it in our routine

rocky: but...y/n, what if I drop you again??

you: you won’t...i trust you 

and you really did, that move requires a lot of trust between partners and you know? maybe it didn’t work out the first time because of the lack of trust between you two

and so you go through the full routine and rocky was holding his breath when that part of the choreography came up but you both successfully did it!! and it was a beautiful move

he was so excited at the end of the run through that he hugged you

and you were smiling too bc this was the first time you did a full run through without any stops in between

you both don’t even notice that all the hostility is gone??

and the tension suddenly changed from hatred to...dare I say it...sexual

oo baby the day of the showcase you two were hella nervous 

but c’mon you and rocky were the best of the best so ofc you absolutely killed the performance

your energies literally merged as soon as the music started

every move was flawless

and you both had to face each other during your ending pose and you were just like looking at him like ??? wtf ??? did you maybe wanna kiss him??

and you know the look that rocky has in his eyes when he’s dancing

imagine that literally piercing into your soul

you got the shivers waiting for the lights to dim 

you both received a standing ovation after your duet obviously

astro watching it bc they always support rocky: they’re gonna fuck 100%

fast forward to the next term bc you both didn’t really have a reason to contact each other during summer break now that the showcase was done

you and rocky had two classes together, dance research and advanced modern technique

it was then that you started to see his actual personality and how goofy of a person he was

you still had a rivalry of course, but now it was healthy

instead of trying to bring each other down, you both started motivating each other to do better

and yes you’ve always been impressed with how good of a dancer rocky was (and vice versa), but now whenever you saw him practice you start to feel a little bit of stir in your stomach and shit are you blushing??

and then you two get paired up again for your midterm evaluation

your teacher: i saw the chemistry you had for the showcase last term, i think you two would work well together for this project

and god is your teacher trying to murder you??? the theme of this midterm was “couple dance” to encourage collaboration or whatever

you were just thankful that the song choice she gave you was more upbeat and not sensual bc you know for a fact that you would not survive doing a sexy dance routine with rocky

but that didn’t stop the way your skin felt like it was on fire whenever he touched you for partner-dependent moves

this time around, you did the choreography process together and it was actually pretty fun??

you and him would bounce back ideas and joke around whenever something looked stupid

you and rocky did this by the way for reference

and then there was one late night when you two were practicing

it was around 2 am, no one else was in the music building and you both didn’t have class the next day so you two were just like fuck it let’s just practice until campus security kicks us out or whatever

you both were literally dancing for four hours, not just this new routine but old ones and freestyles as well

and then you were doing your new routine and during the part where he had to twirl and dip you, you both fall again

but no one got injured this time luckily

and you both just burst out laughing, maybe you were a little delirious at this point in the night

you: i can’t believe you dropped me again

rocky’s laughing and you both just look at each other, and he’s hovering above you right???

and your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you’re positive he can hear it

and you’re thankful that your face was already hot from dancing so that he couldn’t tell that you were in fact blushing

rocky’s like looking at you for a good minute or so and he’s just like thinking in his head: have you always been this cute?

and maybe it’s bc you guys have been getting along so well lately and the vibes are??? immaculate

but the atmosphere suddenly gets super thick and he !! just !! leans down !! and !! kisses !! you !!

and phew baby you bet that you immediately respond to it

you’re literally making out on the floor for like five minutes

and mind you, five minutes is a long time

until rocky’s phone rings loudly through the speaker and you both suddenly separate

he scurries to his phone and you sit up trying to compose yourself 

jinjin: park minhyuk where are you?! it’s 3 am!!

you literally hear jinjin scolding rocky through the phone and you laugh a little bc it’s so cute how he’s getting nagged right now

rocky: hyung...im practicing...

jinjin: do i need to drag you out of there?! i’ll literally call bin to carry your ass to our apartment! how long have you been practicing huh?? have you eaten dinner at all??

rocky: okay okay I’ll come back home

he turns to you after ending the call and he’s so !! shy !!

rocky: I guess that’s the end of our practice haha...do you want me to walk you back to your place?? it’s pretty late out

you: yeah that’d be nice...hm you sure your hyung’s not gonna call a search party for you??

you’re teasing him and he just pouts

rocky: i’ll be fine

rocky walks you back to your apartment and it’s a little?? awkward?? 

but before you bid him goodbye he’s like: uh...the kiss earlier...sorry if I surprised you

your cheeks are hot again: it’s um...it’s okay, I didn’t mind it...it was actually pretty nice...I guess...

and rocky’s heart skips a beat and now he’s blushing: yeah...it was...i’ll see you in class then??

you: yeah, i’ll see you. text me when you get home okay?

he nods and waits until you’re safely inside and then he just starts grumbling to himself

rocky: i’ll see you in class?? could i say anything more stupid??? 

rocky’s adorable okay

him texting you when he gets back: im home :)

you: that’s good! good night rocky :)

he goes to the guys the day after like: i have a predicament !! me and y/n kissed !! 

jinjin: that’s why you were late last night??

eunwoo: you dirty dog, doing it in the dance studio??

rocky: we didn’t do anything else hyung !!

bin: so did you ask them out??

rocky: no...i said...i’ll see you in class

myungjun: i’ll see you in class?!?! are you an idiot??

sanha: hyung even I’d ask y/n out after that

rocky: i know !! im dumb okay!! help me

sanha: you’re a lost case sorry

jinjin: why don’t you start with, hey y/n do you wanna get some food with me??

rocky: AHHHH

yes he does want to ask you out, yes he does want to kiss you again more than he’d like to admit, but he’s shy

you’re not faring any better, you and roommate were literally talking about it all weekend

the next time you see rocky (in class), you two are awkward as fuck

you both keep stealing glances at each other and then if one of you get caught, you both immediately look away

those 50 minutes of class could not go by any slower

and you were so ready to book it after the professor dismissed you but then you hear rocky call your name

rocky: hey y/n, are you free right now?

you: uh yeah! why what’s up

rocky: do you...um...wanna get some coffee with me?? or food or something??

you: do you mean like just to hang out or...uh like a date?

rocky: a date...if you want it to be

and cue the blushies again

you and rocky end up going to this cute cafe and get smoothies bc neither of you were feeling caffeine at the moment

and the whole time you two are just ??? so cute and shy and awkward with each other ???

which is such a contrast from how you two would dance together

rocky’s so sweet, really the cutest boy

gives you so many butterflies

the two of you end up going on little cafe dates before practice 

and you’re all cute and wholesome

and then he turns all passionate and dominant when you start dancing

like wow alright rocky giving you whiplash or whatever

when you show the routine for your midterm, the teacher and other students give you both high praises 

and he’s all giddy after class and he goes up to you: i think its safe to say that we have really good chemistry when we work together, don’t you think?

you’re smiling hehe but you wanna mess with him a little: hmm i think we’re alright, but who knows, i might mesh well with someone else

and then he’s all frowny, a little jealous: what do you mean someone else? do you make out with someone who just has alright chemistry with you??

your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his mouth: im kidding!!

rocky just smirks at your embarrassed reaction and he like tickles your sides

and then he just grabs your hand like: don’t find another dance partner y/n, just be mine

how could you say no to that??? especially when rocky’s just looking all handsome and charming and shit??? exactly. you can’t and why would you ever say no in the first place??

you and rocky dating?? biiiig news in the dance department

and even outside of it

bc lowkey rocky had a bit of a fanclub bc of how good he is at dancing, are we shocked? no

the boys are so happy for him !!

you meet his friends literally the day the two of you start dating

and you’re a bit nervous meeting them bc ofc you want them to like you, they’re his friends

but they’re so sweet...and headass

when rocky brings you to their dinner, the five of them literally start applauding at your entrance

you were so confused and rocky’s just out here with second hand embarrassment

he’s the cutest boyfriend

shy with pda in public (unless you’re dancing), most he’ll do is hold your hand

but in private he’s very clingy

loves backhugging you

he also tickles you when he wants to be a little shit

which is 50% of the time

very playful bf, will tease you at least once every day

if you two are just practicing dancing, he’ll make any sort of excuse to hold you or kiss you

asddfadsjf he’s so cute

gets very soft at night especially when you two are worn out from practice

just wants to go back to your (or his) apartment and cuddle and sleep

imagine just you two cuddling in bed after hours of dancing and he’s just spooning you and he mumbles tiredly into your shoulder: you’re amazing y/n...you’re one of the best dancers i’ve ever seen

and before, his pride would have never allowed him to say that, but now it can

not really one for pet names in my opinion, but he does call you “my y/n”

after you two start dating, you begin to call him by his real name, minhyuk

or you say hyukie

he lowkey loves it when you call him that, it’s so endearing

the guys teasing him, cooing at rocky all gross like : heyyy hyukkie

then rocky just like crosses his arms: only y/n can call me hyukie

he didn’t realize he loves couple dances so much until you and him are dating

well he only loves it because you’re his partner ofc

alright hear me out !! slow dancing with rocky

slow !! dancing !! with !! rocky !!

he dims the lights in the dance studio until it’s just a single spotlight and some slow romantic music comes on and he just grabs you by the hand and twirls you once before pulling you close and you’re just swaying side to side

and then he presses your foreheads together and he’s just looking into your eyes and gives you the softest smile

!!! im freaking out!! i want this so bad !!

that’s how the first i love you comes out

surprise, you say it first

okay but like in the moment, the atmosphere is literally so perfect, and you can just see how much he treasures you and you always feel butterflies whenever he does this, but there was just something that night that made you say it

like your chest was constricting so hard and you were thinking to yourself, i love this man

and so you just said it

and omg the smile on rocky’s face just widens and he kisses you so sweetly before he says it back

loves kissing you, your lips are like a drug to him

can literally make out with you for hours

has pushed you against the walls of the practice room just for a little make out session

ahhh here we go ladies and gents

sex !! with !! rocky !!

first and foremost, dance studio sex??? yes

especially if it’s just you two late night practicing like the first time you kissed?

mirror kink? maybe so

and bc y’all are ~flexible~, you bet he likes bending your back like a pretzel

he’s a very passionate lover, your pleasure is his #1 priority

loves foreplay just as much as the main event

but oof his hips?? grrrrr bark bark ram me over with a truck

his stroke game is so good

literally knows how to fuck you in all the right places

and his stamina??? god tier, can go at it for hours on end

into edging and overstimulation, oof you bet you’re cumming at least twice during every session

i cannot stress this enough!! thigh riding

you know he has thighs of steel

will make you cum just from riding his thigh

most of the time you guys start off slow and sweet, and then just boom it turns it hard sex

will definitely get turned on from doing a sexy dance routine

the amount of times he’s wanted to just fuck you in the middle of class bc you turned him on?? but ofc he has public decency he won’t do that

he knows you get turned on from his fingers oops

anal or vaginal fingering?? he’s all for it baby

he’s loud during sex, all the grunting, huffing, growling, oo im getting chills

not afraid to tell you how good you’re making him feel

not really into spanking, but he grips a lot, like his fingernails have definitely left some deep imprints in your hips or your ass

hair pulling?? yes, both sides receiving

okay but if you call him rocky during sex? big turn on

i can’t explain why, it just is

favorite position?? cowgirl

he loves when you’re on top of him

yes he likes seeing you try to fuck yourself on him

and then when he can’t take it anymore and just grabs your hips and thrusts up into you until your body literally collapses on him

he always tries to make you cum first but oops sometimes baby just busts a nut

yes you will probably tease him about it and then he’ll just shut you up by kissing you 

on another note, no way to turn rocky on faster than sucking on his bottom lip when you’re kissing

will cuddle you after cumming, like he doesn’t care if either of you are sweaty or messy, he’s hugging you for at least five minutes

honestly becomes a baby after sex so it’s more like you’re giving him after care sksksk

the switch he makes from being a sex fiend to a clingy cuddly boy? whiplash

like you need to go to the bathroom to pee or something and he’s like: but...i wanna hug u

i would risk it all for rocky yes

anyway after graduating, rocky becomes a choreographer for this really famous dance studio and get recruited to join a highly-competitive dance troupe

you both do long distance for a little bit bc obviously he’s back home but you have to travel with your group for competitions, sometimes even internationally

and so that caused some strain in your relationship bc distance sucks, but you would always make sure to call him every night before going to bed and despite any time zone difference, he would always answer

your biggest supporter !! literally flew out to surprise you during a big dance competition in london or whatever and you cried happy tears bc was he really there right now??

that’s when you knew that he was the one :’)

you spent the night w him in his hotel room and after a good couple rounds of reunion sex, you were like trying to test the waters a little bit: i missed you hyukie

rocky: i missed you too, but now that you’re here with me, nothing else matters

you: what do you really think about this long distance thing??

rocky: it sucks...but i know it made us stronger. i feel like we can get through anything now

you: yeah, i agree

rocky getting paranoid: omg why? are you thinking of living abroad?? y/n, do i need to start looking at dance studios out here??

you have to hold in your laughter bc he’s so cute: why? would you move out of the county for me if i wanted to??

rocky: i mean...if you’re thinking of leaving for good...then yeah.

he gets so shy and quiet and you’re just !! wow you love him !! he’s yours !!

you kiss him shortly and you smile: no, i’m not gonna live abroad. I miss being home and I miss seeing you all the time. I told you before, I’m thinking of leaving the troupe in two months and then gonna find a job back home for good.

he lets out a sigh of relief: you scared me a little

you just laugh: I only wanted to confirm something and hmm I was right

rocky: what did you wanna confirm??

you being a confident baddie: that I wanna be with you for the rest of my life

rocky feeling his heart implode: you mean it??

you scoffing: why would I be lying about this?

he just laughs and kisses you: I wanna be with you too...I’ve been thinking it since the last time you visited. How much I love you and how much I hated seeing you leave for who knows how long, but I didn’t wanna say anything bc you’re still living your life and I didn’t want a promise like this to influence you to come back if you didn’t want to yet.

two months later you’re back for good and move in with rocky

you end up becoming a choreographer at his dance studio too

you and rocky: the couple™

and you live happily ever after

somewhere down the line...

sanha: hey remember when you two hated each other?

eunwoo: remember when you injured y/n??

bin: remember when you freaked out to us about your first kiss together

myungjun: and you said i’LL sEe yOu iN cLaSs

jinjin: those were fun times, right hyukie?

rocky: i hate you all

__________________________________________________

2-16-21

[dwellordream]

“In court records of defamation suits, a common neighborhood jest was to pretend that a suspected cuckold actually wore gigantic horns, with neighbors warning him in mock concern that his horns threatened to break doorways and walls. This street jape has its parallel in printed jests. In one, a jealous husband always sticks his head out the window to check on his wife when she leaves the house, "which she taking in great endugine [dudgeon], roundly told him that if hee used continually to looke after her shee would clappe such a paire of horns upon his head that from thenceforth he would not be able to put his head out of doores." Her spatial manipulation requires theatrical projection: he seeks to control her access to the outside world and thus her sexuality, so she uses an imaginary scene of neighborhood humiliation to control him.

…In Berangier du long cui ("Berangier of the Long Ass"), an unhappy lady is married to a craven knight who only pretends to go out and fight. When he returns from these faked bouts, he kicks her and reviles her. One day she has had enough. She crossdresses as a knight in full armor and follows him into the forest, where she spies on him hacking his own sword. Accosting him, she challenges him to joust. Cowering before her, he cravenly begs for mercy. She forces him to kiss her bare ass. Bending over, he is shocked to see only a long cleft, with no testicles. She tells him in a rough voice that "All other men are beneath my class. / I'm Berangier of the Long Ass / Who puts to shame the chicken-hearted."

The fabliau culminates in the wife's confrontation with him at home, where she boldly sits in bed with her new lover. When he rages, she silences him by saying she knows all about his meeting with Berangier of the Long Ass and that she will tell the world if he says another word: He felt checkmated. He felt ill. And from that day, she did her will: She was no common girl or fool: When the shepherd's weak, the wolf shits wool. Such tales about tails are short and sharp, a feature that has led Howard Bloch to argue that the analogous French pun on tale/tail (con(te}/con) functions as more than an apt quibble. Accepting the Aristotelian rule that comedy is rooted in the defective, he locates that defect in the voice of the con (cunt/fabliau), whose "illogical" and "scandalous" speech cuts meaning short. 

Logic is phallocentric: every child believes in "the ubiquity of the phallus [which] by analogy accounts for the presupposition of logic." Laughter produced by a joke or conte disrupts this logic and therefore cuts or castrates. His theory has its own shortcomings. Bloch fails to address the peculiar dramatic form of the fabliau, which is less punchline-focused and more hermeneutically demanding than a modern joke. In Berangier du long cui a new kind of logic plays out for a full forty lines beyond what he reads as the curtailing "punchline" of the anal kiss, which, rather than ending the narrative, spurs a denouement focused on the wife's triumph and mirth. 

Indeed, Bloch discounts everything outside the castrating moment; he cannot allow that the con may also result in laughter that is its own logic, issuing from certain hearers for whom the phallus is not "ubiquitous." If the joke brings forth a "rule ready-made in words/' as Freud ordained, the rule of the fabliau is that laughter is already present: if it symbolically cuts some, it somatically pleases many others. In song, jest, and verse, women certainly do take special delight in hacking away at phallic pretensions. The topic figures large in gossips' literature, such as the early Tudor A Talk of Ten Wyves on Their Husbands Ware. A group of wives drinking in the alehouse vie to outdo each other in belittling their spouses' equipment. 

The first wife sets the terms of the debate: Talys lett us tell Off owre hosbondes ware, Wych of hem most worthy are To-day to bear the bell. And I schall now begyn att myne: I knowe the [measure] well & fyne, The length of a snayle, And ever he warse is from day to day. All ten have a go. One wife moans in anguish that her husband is "the length of four beans" even when "he was in his most pryde/' another compares her mate's parts unfavorably to those of her cat Gyb, and a third says her spouse's ware is long enough but as weak and thin as her little finger. Narrators in some tales do call lusty women whorish, but in general jests do not; and on closer inspection many are more accurately about women satirizing men, especially for inept lovemaking. 

Such tales often circle back to cuckoldry because a man who cannot pay his marriage debt is inviting horns. It is too easy to dismiss a narrative such as Talke of Ten Wyves, in which women express sexual desire or connoisseurship, as nothing but formulaic satire on vulgar female tongues and women's frightening insatiability. In her foundational study of cheap print, Margaret Spufford takes a minority view by arguing against reading an automatic tone of disapproval or satire in all such references to women's sexual desires: "Women were depicted in the chapbooks ... as taking positive pleasure in lovemaking. Certainly, the whole tenor of the merry books conveys that seventeenth-century women enjoyed their own sexuality and were expected to enjoy it."

Whatever women's experience of their own sexuality-and Spufford's comment raises more issues than it answers-most women would have been familiar with jesting literature that held men responsible for providing them with a degree of pleasure in bed, expressing that expectation through shrewd criticisms of sexual performance. When placed in a social context of neighborly surveillance, cultural discourses about cuckoldry elicit judgments about female duplicity, to be sure. But as these texts show, the conversation also recruits female pleasure and involves negotiations about the limits of male violence and criticisms of male stupidity, impotence, and hypocrisy. Many tales recruit women's laughter at drunken, jealous, and hateful husbands; and some attempt to discipline men by teaching that such behavior will result in horns. 

Some jests can almost be considered primers in verbal evasion for harassed women, while others seem calculated to heat hostilities to the boiling point. Sometimes the language of play translates struggles ending in blows and blood to contests for linguistic mastery, especially in the jest topos of the forced oath, which turns on the unanswerable riddle of chastity. But the threat of violence is not always hidden. Pasquils Palinodia paints an unforgettable picture of cuckolds as sadists and blowhards, egging each other on: 

And what is then his prattle with his mates, His fellow drunkards, sitting o'er the pot? There he begins the story, and relates What an infernal! fury he hath got, An everlasting scold that's never quiet, But checks him for his company and his ryot. Why bang her well, quoth one, for by this quart, If she were my wife, I would break her heart. Well, quoth another, fill a cup of Sacke, And let all scolds be damn'd as deep as helli Abridge her maintenance, and from her backe Pull her proud clothes, for they doe make her swell. And thus in divellish counsell there they sit, Til of Sherry they have drowned their wit. The anonymous narrator concludes this remarkable passage by observing that it is "too great a wrong, and most unjust/ The weaker to the wall should thus be thrust" and "deny'd the favour of the laws". 

Perhaps it is this antimasculinist edge in cuckoldry humor-that utter lack of sympathy for the "wronged" husband-that led later generations of critics to disdain cuckoldry so completely. Norbert Elias, Keith Thomas, and others have ascribed the shift in taste to the massive change in manners that occurred in the later seventeenth century. What is less clear is how much this change depended on establishing new standards of female respectability and on restricting the kinds of stories they should hear and tell. In any case, it is important that the vast field of early modern cuckoldry narrative not be dismissed as rank misogyny. Any given tale may be heard as a lesson in amorality, a fable about the subordination of patriarchs, and prime laughing matter for all-but especially for women. Subject to sexual attacks, slurs, and scrutiny, they knew danger in a physical as well as psychological sense. They were, therefore, even more likely to enjoy a simulacrum of mastery that proved a stage husband wrong or wronged, again and again.”

- Pamela Allen Brown, “Between Women, or All Is Fair at Horn Fair.” in Better a Shrew than a Sheep: Women, Drama, and the Culture of Jest in Early Modern England

[imaginarynoumenon]

He watches his new comrades from a vantage perspective behind them all, an angle he can keep them in view should they be bullvin or homosapien or mechanical, and he is quite apt to put on his natural pleasantries as Arlecchino deems to fill them in. Being so close to Him does burn a malicious little hole in his heart being so supportive, but a mistake would be to bring up the angry red past they share and is threatening to boil. It would be rude to involve such busy individuals, after all, with the man with no shirt already chucking himself into the fray.

"Otto Apocalypse." He offers graciously. "Thank you in kind for the information." Their coming, was left unsaid as the duo of red and blue are off to initiate their own forms of punishment amongst the enemies.

Slow to action would be one way to put how long he takes to ponder how far he can extend his seemingly phenomenal, yet amateur, skills in mastering energy, when it came time for their own retribution. They were indeed scattered as a team so the sound of flying projectiles after heavy mechanical thunks in his own direction does little to stir him from wondering further. How far could he push this?

[Enemy Phase] RECON LOG MEK (PNEUMA) 18/19HP performs Special Attack: Time Bomb [Roll: 1, -0HP, Miss] on OTTO: 10/10HP 2/2SP.

He can feel the energy coalescing between his fingers once again and he steps forward with it to draw something from inside his coat. He takes off so the clunky little bomb that detonates exposed electricity where he once stood, but none of it touching his heels as from his coat he pulls a standard pistol. He had felt it in his pocket upon his downward spiral, but didn't dare bring attention to it with someone so weary at his side.

He points it at the mechanical foe that clicks to its feet...

[Enemy Phase] COUNTER! OTTO: 10/10HP 2/2SP counters with Normal Attack: Heavenly Rain [Roll: 10, -2.5 (-1.5 + -1) HP] -2.5HP on RECON LOG MEK (PNEUMA) 15.5/19HP.

Imprisonment Failed! [Roll: 5]

... and he fires shots imbued with that energy into the mech, it rattles with the damage hitting it's form. Whatever form of pain it can feel seemed to kick in, driving it off as it pounces away from him.

OTTO: 10/10HP 2/2SP rolls 5 energy [Roll 3 + 2 ]!

RECON LOG MEK (PNEUMA) 15.5/19HP [ON MISS] Special Attack: Time Bomb [Roll: 3, -0HP, Miss] activated!

From behind him the shocker that had been detonated started spitting electricity again, intensely this time in its final seconds of power. For whoever was next to him when it was shot he spares little mind as he pushes himself away just enough to not need to worry about it. He pulls up his weapon and feels everything from before joining together, the energy burning its way up his arms again, like it had into his bullets before.

Right now, he has half a mind to look back into His eyes as he squeezes the trigger, but that would be too obvious.

3 Energy! OTTO: 10/10HP 2/2SP performs Elemental Burst: Unequaled, Unrivaled [Roll: 9, -4HP (3 + 1)] -4HP on DEEPWATER ASSAULT MEK (PNEUMA) 3.5/16HP.

COUNTER! DEEPWATER ASSAULT MEK (PNEUMA) 3.5/16HP performs Normal Attack: Wind Torpedo [Roll: 13, -2HP] -2HP to OTTO: 10/10HP 0/2SP.

Trilaksana SP depleted 0/2SP!

The shot was yellow and red hot at the edges as it pierced the hull of a particularly aggressive mek, heavily damaged from his temporary allies, but did not take it offline. While it did shutter from the damage, it still shot out torpedoes that homed In on him from their close proximity. While it did blow him back and the crystal of his shield shatters, he is as unharmed as before he started this mess.

He looks at his free hand, outstretched again as the final bits of energy retreat up his arm and out...

2 Energy! OTTO: 10/10HP uses Elemental Skill: Innate Obsession: Trilaksana on his allies.

All allies provided with Heavenly Mirror 2SP.

... and he thinks himself generous enough, even with the chaos leaving them a tad worse for wear. From here, he doesn't dare give a look at the white-haired man as a certain member of their party in particular took the brunt of that assault.

He would have laughed, but his face holds firm. "I would suggest we regroup, but we are not out of this pot yet."

@wantedoni

I Feel A Funeral, In Our Time Here.

#GHAbyssApril2025 — Otto Apocalypse, Kevin Kaslana, Arataki Itto, and Arlecchino

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (6/6)

It can’t all be good. This is Beetlejuice, remember? 

A very heartfelt thank you to @clairjohnson for this fun and heartbreaking rp. It was a delight to torture ourselves with this!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

@turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beejiesbitch @janitor-boy @angelicspaceprince @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice

He felt dead – well, deader – inside. In a moment when there should be residual bliss, a sweet connection after such intimacy – especially with someone like her, someone he'd not only lusted after but someone he got to know and found he liked – the standard response was to bask in the glow and drift down from it gradually. Together. 

Instead, that internal, infernal bitterness surged enough that Beetlejuice tasted it in the back of his throat. Semi-coherent and contradictory thoughts tumbled through his head.

He was such a fucking idiot. He'd fucked – literally – any slim chance he'd had with Maria now, one of the only people who put up with his shit. Although the effects of the booze he'd swilled were dwindling, he told himself he'd just taken advantage of her in a drunken stupor. She was kissing him and cooing and relaxed under him because she was playing a role, doing her best to get through this as quickly as possible before she could escape him. 

Yet at the same time . . .

He was such a fucking idiot. He'd been used again. As a self-proclaimed 'Ghost with the Most' as he liked to spew, he was repeatedly duped. The thing he hated most about himself, that he wanted and needed companionship, was always his downfall. He was so desperate for the slightest bit of attention people took wild advantage of him, and he never fucking learned his lesson. 

Caught in a web of his own self hate, Beetlejuice barely noticed Maria's continued caresses or her smile. As good as it was to have her so perfectly under him, he scowled. 

"Betelgeuse . . ."

His name from her lips deepened that scowl, and with a hard glare into her eyes – that he couldn't hold for more than a second, "Ghost with the Most", what a fucking joke – he shoved up and away from her and whatever she was going to say: sweet lies or angry venom.

Maria felt any imagined warmth drain from her body when he pushed away from her. The loss of his weight, of the comfort she’d felt just moments before, was completely shattered by the glare he’d set on her. His eyes had been cold and angry – and she had no idea why. 

Had she done something wrong? She replayed what they’d done, the things he’d said, over in her head. Everything had seemed right – more than right. Anxiety began to bubble up in her chest and she finally sat up off the bed. Betelgeuse had angled his body away from her in a position that screamed fuck off. Maria shook her head in confusion, trying to understand how the man that had begged her not to leave, had called her beautiful, had fucked her so perfectly, now wanted nothing to do with her. 

The original reason why they’d gone to Dante’s hit her like a ton of bricks. He’d been inconsolable when he’d arrived in the waiting room. Blood soaked, angry, and devastated at the loss of people he cared about. And here she was – a pair of legs to bury his anguish in. Calling her pretty was all it took to have her jumping into his bed. God, and he didn’t even initiate it, she had. She wasn’t even a first choice for him to proposition while sad and drunk. 

Swallowing down a sob that threatened to creep up, Maria reached out and placed a small hand on his arm – cursing herself when it trembled slightly. 

“Betelgeuse . . .?” 

Saying his name caused the first tear to roll down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away with her other hand.

Legs swung over the edge of the bed, his back hunched and his hands so tight on the edge of his stained mattress that his knuckles hurt with the pressure, the same rancid thoughts spewed by the same gibbering voice echoed through his head. 

He was a fucking idiot. Played for a fool by his own dick and her. Again. Cuck was more than apt. The story of his fucking life. 

There was no way in this world or the upper he'd ever have had a chance with a woman of her caliber. He'd manipulated his way here, and as loathe as he was to admit it, deep down he knew that was the root of his problems. Nothing real came from that; hadn't the very reason he'd ended up back in the reception area been because of it?! 

People saw the chinks in his armor, and used well-placed arrows to bring him down. They took what they wanted, took whatever he was so eager to give just for just a little acknowledgement, they used him – they fucking used him –   

– Beetlejuice scowled again, but it was down into his own lap this time.

Maria shifted on the bed beside him, the broken frame made them both tilt towards each other whether they liked it or not. And she must like it, she must love seeing him further broken, because she continued the lie by touching him and saying his name, again. 

Anger – as hot as the euphoria had been moments ago – flared in him. 

"What are you still doing here?!" Beetlejuice roared as he spun on her. His vision was very slightly blurry, altered by his now slitted pupils; sometimes in rage he had less control over keeping them human and there was certainly no point in reining them in right now. "You've had your fun, you got what you wanted – ¿qué más quieres? To kick me in the teeth some more?!"

what are you still doing here 

If her heart had been beating it would have stopped. The weight of his words, roared with venomous repulsion, pressed heavy on her chest. Maria couldn’t help the tears that freely ran down her cheeks and fell off her chin. Still so focused on his burst of rage she barely followed his next questions. She blinked a few times, silent as the tears continued to fall, and tried to understand what he was insinuating. Was he gaslighting her? How could he really believe any of that? Maria opened her mouth to speak, to try and articulate how devastated and confused she was, but the more she tried to search for the right words the angrier she got. At him and at herself. 

“Fuck you,” she seethed, her voice surprisingly steady for how distraught she looked. How could she have been so stupid? This was Betelgeuse. Whatever rose-colored glasses she’d been wearing before he effectively slapped off her face. 

Feeling very exposed and embarrassed Maria covered her chest and shifted off the bed. Hastily, she searched for her clothes, slipping on her underwear and dress (abandoning her bra). When she picked up her shoes at the end of his bed she stooped, giving his rage filled snake eyes a long look. This is what she needed to remember.

“Thank you.” The words were bitter and she couldn’t help the tremble now. “I don’t need to wonder what being with you is like anymore. I can shut the book on my naïve fantasies.” 

She took a single step back, her mouth in a tight line while she shook her head. “I’m the same down here as I was up there. Foolish and never good enough – basura. But I can take myself out.” 

The last word came out with a sob and she looked away from him – she needed to leave.

Oh, she was good. An Oscar worthy performance: those tears streaming so theatrically over her high cheekbones; her expression surprised bordering on devastated; the faintest, barely-there tremble in her hands. She was a waste working a reception desk.

Her spit profanity was exactly what he expected. Exactly what he needed. It vindicated him that he was able to at least partially expose the truth of her. If he was able to twist and reduce whoever was using him to standard curses, he won. 

Beetlejuice only watched from the corner of his eye as Maria haphazardly scooped up and stepped into her clothing. She didn't ask for help rezipping her dress. 

Then, instead of simply stomping out, instead of a stinging slap across the face – plus or minus the heeled shoes she held – she looked him directly in the face, leaning low to get under his brow and hold his eyes. 

She slapped him with her words.

His self-pity and rage swirled in the pit inside him, and he could barely process what she said. Sarcastic thanks? She'd fantasized about him? The word fool and garbage flitted through – he knew what he was – and then a hitched choke that added another perfectly placed, dramatic sob to the end. 

Although his upper brain was still trying to sort through what she'd just said, his lizard brain was still quick and in charge. 

"The fucking door's right there," he snarled. She wanted to play on sympathies with crocodile tears? He'd counter with justified fury.

He'd have liked to stare her down till she was gone, but that hurt like a knife in the chest. And he should know, since that was something he'd experienced so recently! Instead of keeping his eyes locked on her, he turned his face away. 

His throat burnned.

His silent agreement of her self-deprecation and his cruel indication to the door sealed it for her. Part of her, deep down, hoped he’d see her anguish and apologize. Leave the bed and wrap his arms around her. But that wasn’t happening, and it wasn’t going to happen. That was clear. 

Maria felt the fire in her drain when Betelgeuse turned from her. What was the point of being angry? She nodded solemnly and looked at the door he’d so kindly motioned to. 

“Right.” Her voice was soft. “Goodbye, Betelgeuse.” 

And it really was goodbye. She realized that then. There was a clear finality to her parting. That goodbye was a resolve to cut whatever semblance of a relationship, platonic or otherwise, they’d had. Maria mourned that loss. Packing away the memories of coy flirting, stupid jokes, and of his perpetual smile when he’d roll his chair over to pitch his latest get out scheme. 

And she mourned the brief possibility of what could have been. The flash of something seen only through the rose-colored glasses of an afterglow. 

He so firmly hammered the final nail in the coffin that now held this relationship – and no one had any final words before it was lowered down into the dirt. 

Another nod, only to herself, and she turned from him. Her heels still hung from her fingers as she padded bare foot to his door and left. 

She didn’t notice how long she’d been walking, busy filing away the decades of fond memories till she was left with the most recent one. The eternal red fog of the netherworld licked at her legs, and as she pushed their final night together down deep, she pressed her back against the closest building, knelt down into the haze, and cried.

The door didn't slam. She left politely, as if to show she was superior. 

He fucking knew that, didn't she think he fucking knew that?! 

The atmosphere in his room changed the second Maria walked out and left it looking grimier, shabbier, and shittier than ever before. Beetlejuice grabbed both sides of his head and bellowed wordlessly: a rage-filled noise that probably rattled his dead neighbors. She led him on, she teased him, she used him, she made a fool of him . . . the same excuses he always heard echoed through his skull. She led him on, she teased him, she used him, she made a fool of him. 

Sheledhimonsheteasedhimsheusedhimshemadeafoolofhim over and over and over and over –  

She'd said basura. Garbage. That one word crept passed the others. 

In a terrifying moment of clarity, Beetlejuice realized she hadn't called him that, she called herself that. 

She wasn't garbage. He had been sincere when he called her hermosa. Emperatriz. It might have been the booze that loosened his tongue, but it only spoke the truth. He'd never met anyone like her in the Nether or Upper world. She made him laugh. She gave as good as she got. She was beauty personified. He liked her, and more than that, he respected her. And now, and now –

– he'd continued to fuck over his existence. The weight of what he'd done, the sheer magnitude of how he'd treated her when she'd been nothing but supportive and caring –

A new sound ripped from his throat. Pain and suffering. Utter disdain for himself. Hate directed inward. He should run after her. He should find her and apologize; drop to his knees in front of her, prostrate at her feet, grovel belly-up and beg for forgiveness. He could never atone, but he could worship. But Maria made it perfectly clear she was done with him, rightfully, agonizingly so, and all he could do was curl in on himself on his sagging, stained mattress, and weep.

fin

[swissmissficrecs]

Favorite Sherlock (BBC) Fics of 2019

Once again, my hopes of getting through some of the very tantalizing fics that finished up in December are simply not going to materialize anytime soon, so rather than delay any longer, here are my personal picks for the fics I enjoyed the most last year.

Disclaimers: This list is obviously skewed toward my own personal preferences and reading habits. There are plenty of other fics that I enjoyed, and even more that I simply didn’t get around to reading (yet), so it’s not a judgment if your favorite (or one you wrote) isn’t on here. Think of this as a sampling rather than a definitive list. I hope this will help you to re-acquaint yourself with fics you loved, give a chance to others you may have skipped the first time round, and possibly discover something entirely new and astonishing.

And now, in descending order of length:

Voyages of the Bakerstreet (528,359 words) by fresne Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/OCs Summary: Starfleet never really intended to assemble a crew with a half trained doctor and an alpha Augment with authority issues. But they also didn't really intend for the Borg to make it quite as far as they did. And so...These are the Voyages of the USS Bakerstreet. Her five year mission (make that ten (okay fine twelve year mission + time travel)), to seek out new life and new civilizations. To go boldly.

Proving A Point (186,270 words) by J_Baillier, elldotsee Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Riptide Lover (114,090 words) by jinglebell Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: The year is 1866. When John becomes swept overboard, he never expects to encounter a living creature of myth. When the merman absconds with John, the lost sailor must use every tool at his disposal to convince Sherlock not to kill him. But it seems that killing John Watson is not what the deadly, beautiful creature has in mind at all... Victorian mermaid AU. Heed the tags.

By A Thousand Cuts (95,774 words) by 7PercentSolution, J_Baillier Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: It's hard to let go of the past, especially when going home for the holidays. An incident just before Christmas brings unpleasant memories to the surface, and the wounds Sherlock carries may take more than just time to heal.

Rebuilding Rome (94,000 words) by SilentAuror Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: When a case unexpectedly forces John to acknowledge some difficult truths about himself and his life, he spirals downward, leaving Sherlock to do his best to rescue him from his own darkness and somehow try to build something new on broken foundations.

Side Effects (86,730 words) by MissDavis Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Life is a lot better for Sherlock and John than it was a year ago. Yes, John still can't walk and Sherlock is still on antidepressants, but they're married now, and almost everything else is back to their version of normal. They have a dog. Sherlock's solving cases again. But when Moriarty learns of their marriage, he escapes from prison and takes it upon himself to make their lives miserable. Is Sherlock really up to the challenge of catching a criminal whose only goal is to make sure that he and John don't live happily ever after?

The Monument of Memory (79,663 words) by J_Baillier Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Repairing the Broken Things (75,151 words) by BakerTumblings Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Just to Hold You Close (70,841 words) by sussexbound Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

White Knight (69,840 words) by DiscordantWords Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

I'm coming home, John. -SH (67,247 words) by Ranowa Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: In the two years after Sherlock throws himself off the roof of St. Bart's, crunches into the pavement below, and dies in John's arms, John starts texting. He doesn't know that his text messages are being read.

The Low Road (57,327 words) by Jupiter_Ash Rating: Explicit Relationships:  Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Low Road - n. Behaviour or practice that is deceitful or immoral. The last thing Sherlock remembers is shooting up in his university room in Cambridge. Now he's miles away, in the middle of nowhere, trapped with a man who wants to have sex with him. Where is he? What's going on? And more importantly, who the hell is John Watson? The game is on. But what happens when the other player seems to know you better than you know yourself?

Isosceles (56,609 words) by SilentAuror Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Original Male Character(s) Summary: After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Alphabet Vignettes (49,141 words) by suitesamba Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Twenty-six vignettes featuring Sherlock and John's life after S4.  These begin just after E3 and continue into retirement in Sussex, but are presented in a non-linear fashion.

The Lying Doctor (44,285 words) by pagimag Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/Mary Morstan Summary: Sherlock and John's relationship is fragile after the events at Culverton Smith’s hospital. John struggles with guilt and anger issues. During a case he decides to visit his aunt, which leads to an unexpected development. He’s forced to reevaluate ingrained behaviours, confront long lasting issues and question how he leads his life.

Complete as a Human Being (41,661 words) by LollipopCop Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/Mary Morstan Summary: One week after Sherlock's birthday, Irene Adler is back in their lives, living at Baker Street and bringing up old wounds from the past while aggravating new ones. John is not pleased.

Reconcile (36,464 words) by illwick [plus all of the other installments of this terrific series] Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John views his past through a new lens when he finds his relationship with Sherlock on thin ice.

The Change (28,841 words) by Laur Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Sherlock and John struggle to accept the Wolf as they begin their new relationship.

A Quiet Life (25,176 words) by DiscordantWords Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

Haunted (22,369 words) by Vulpesmellifera Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Plagued by the past, John moves himself and his daughter to a new flat for a fresh start - and it's not 221B Baker Street. While he grapples with new knowledge and old guilt, he's confronted with odd neighbors and strange noises in the night. But is it the new flat, or is John Watson losing his grip on reality?

John Watson and the Three Spirits (aka A Ghost Story of Christmas) (18,788 words) by PipMer Rating: Teen Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John hadn’t planned on becoming a grumpy old man. Well, he wasn’t old quite yet. But he wasn’t getting any younger, and as he thought back on his life so far this Christmas Eve, he was coming up with a lot of regrets. He had been here before, at a crossroads. Feeling as if his life were over, only to have it turned around in the blink of an eye. Could it happen again? Or was it finally, truly, too late?

The Palmyra Atoll (16,069 words) by elwinglyre Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

stay (just a little bit longer) (15,155 words) by subtext-is-my-division Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John may not be an expert, but he's pretty sure that shagging your ex is a bloody awful idea. (Shame the sex is so good, though.)

Boat Chase! (14,314 words) by shamelessmash Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago Summary: Sherlock, John and Lestrade are on a case that lead them to Brooklyn, NY. Reluctantly, Sherlock accepts the 99th precincts offer to help with the legwork. Welcome to this Sherlock/Brooklyn 99 crossover, where everyone ships Johnlock, and the case doesn't matter.

The Death and Resurrection of a Beekeeper (12,923 words) by shiplocks_of_love Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Sherlock escapes London for a quiet, solitary life in Sussex, exhausted after the whirlwind of drama following Mary’s death. One day, a letter arrives.

In July of This Year (12,078 words) by yaycoffee Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: There is an oft-cited experiment discussed in classrooms and cocktail parties alike, a convenient analogy when one endeavors to make a point about not noticing the obvious until it is inevitable. Simply, if you place a frog on a hot plate, it will jump off immediately, but if you put that frog on a cool plate and turn up the heat slowly, slowly, it will simply burn. Or: How these two idiots melt together, finally.

Afraid of the Light (12,063 words) by hippocrates460 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: After everything, comes a time of quiet. There's cases, and Baker Street, and really, life is good. It gives John time to work through something he's been struggling with.

Below Zero (10,912 words) by Calais_Reno Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: 10,000 miles south of London, John Watson sits in a research station in Antarctica. 210 miles above London, Sherlock Holmes is floating in a space station. They are Earth’s only survivors.

Bloodsicles and Bay Leaves (10,724 words) by Zingiber Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade Summary: When Sherlock struggles to ask for John's hand in marriage, he turns to the animal kingdom for inspiration. Biology may be the key to John's heart - or it may kill them both.

Inktober 2019 (31-panel comic) by thinkanddoodle-batch Rating: NSFW (only 1 panel) Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: None given but this is an utterly charming friends-to-lovers story centered on Sherlock’s bed… which he is desperately trying to get John into!

[destinedgray]

netteliax​:

It wasn’t as if she could argue, they’d been performing in a fucking circus act for weeks straight and she looked about as terrible as she felt. “No,” came Nettelia’s tired sigh. She’d almost have preferred another orchestral number to whatever the Blessed had concocted. Nettelia had hoped her instruction was clear, though perhaps the four had resolved to wipe the slate clean. That was their nature, after all. You couldn’t blame a scorpion for stinging the frog, even if it drowned them both. “Shall we take bets on what they’re planning?” A bleak request, but the author’s sense of humour had been just that for some time. Though, she was only joking, even if her “I’d say we have an hour at any rate.” While the city at large was clearly under threat, there was little that could assault the Pyramid that couldn’t be defended against in some way. So long as the four of them were present. Octavian’s fire could burn through magic, Nettelia could heal or transfer just about anything, and her older brother and sister were apt with their sharp objects. Among other things, naturally.

♔

“Well, they don’t need to start a war since there already is one,” he replied bleakly. Dark humor was not something that he would resort to with other druids or really anyone but those that he was close to; a pressure that Aren placed on himself to be a hopeful and optimistic sort of leader in appearance. But this was Nettelia. “Cheap to copy Theneras with a magic bomb… Then again...” he hummed thoughtfully. No, Aren wouldn’t put it past the seraphim to resort to that. Like his sister, however, he was sure they would find a way to keep the Pyramid safe. This was something that they would be united for, they would have to be. Even Octavian would want to protect himself for the Necronomicon if not for the rest of them, that was if the book pulled on his puppet strings. Despite how resentful Aren was at Octavian succumbing to fighting his own kin, he knew his brother was truthful in his own desire to protect the druids when the book didn’t move him. “Maybe locusts? Boils?” Aren’s expression became more genuinely grim as he realized that that were, actually, missing a plague. History tended to repeat itself and seraphim were rather predictable, at least at an Archdruid’s age.

[animeniacss]

Stuck at the Door - Yoonmin One-shot

Synopsis:  Yoongi works at night, Jimin works during the day. Yoongi's first contact too Jimin is an angry post-it note telling him not to slam his door, however, now they have begun using this as some form of communication. However, will either one of them find themselves able to meet the other in person, or will they remain stuck at the door unable to find the courage?

*This fic was a gift done for a Frosty fic fest on ao3. The prompt was given by user @/kisslater and this story came of it! Enjoy and show her love too!

Genre: Romance, One-shot, Mutual Pining

Length: approx. 7k words

Stuck at the Door - Yoonmin One-Shot

Close your god damn door a little quieter next time, will you? – M. YG, Apt # 13

            That was the first sticky note that Park Jimin had ever gotten on his front door. At first, he didn’t notice it, staggering towards his door just as the sun was starting to set over his apartment complex. However, after setting down his bag and scrambling to get his keys, a yawn escaping from his tired mouth, the note finally catches his attention as it slipped from its place on the door, floating delicately towards his feet. When he bent down to pick it up, scanning the message, he pouted.

            “Was I that loud?” He mumbled to himself. He glanced in the direction of Apartment 13, which was right next to his. He had never once seen the guy, Min Yoongi, who lived in Apartment 13 because they were alive and functioning at different times of the day. By the time Jimin got home in the evenings, Yoongi seemingly was long gone, off to work at whatever job he had. Jimin sighed, sticking the note into his pocket before slipping himself into the apartment and closing the door behind him. He made his way deeper into his apartment, towards his desk where all of his university supplies and other stationery needs waited for him every day. “Well, guess I should apologize.” Quickly, Jimin grabbed hold of a yellow sticky note, scribbling down the words I’m sorry! I’ll try to be quieter in the future. “There.” Jimin got up, heading back outside and opening the door. He looked around, trying to see if he could hear any noises that could be Yoongi still in the area. When he heard nothing, he walked to Apartment 13’s door, pressing the sticky note onto the door. He grinned. “Perfect.” With that out of the way, Jimin headed back inside, locking himself in his apartment so that he could get his work done.

            After that note, Jimin was sure that the issue had resolved itself. He was making sure that he would close his door quietly both when he left and when he returned home, just in case Yoongi was ever in his apartment resting before his night shifts. That seemed to be the end of it for a while, and Jimin was already moving on.

            Yoongi, however, felt the exact opposite. Yoongi worked the night shift at a local convenience store that ran for 24 hours a day. By the time the sun was rising in the morning, Yoongi wanted to crawl into a hole and die every single time. He wasn’t a fan of his job, but he did it because with just barely scraping through high school and having no intention of going to college, Yoongi needed some way to pay the bills. So, this was his ticket to do so while he pursued his real passion: rapping. Yoongi was a phenomenal rapper, and his home was the underground rap scene. That’s where he spent his weeknights, and his days where he wasn’t at home passed out on the couch, he was there preparing for his next performance.

            So, when Yoongi was home, the last thing he needed was to be woken up by Jimin slamming the door as he exited his apartment. The first time was fine, and the apology note was cute. However, the next time it happened, Yoongi flung himself out of bed and frowned. His eyes flew to the alarm clock, where he saw the time flashing. It was 7 a.m., meaning Yoongi had only been home and asleep for 3 hours after a long night at the rap club.

            “The little punk.” He scoffed, before heading out of his room and towards the door of his apartment. When he flung the door open, he poked his head out. “Oi! Park Jimin!” He shouted. However, there was nobody in the hallway of the apartment level, and Jimin was gone as if he were the kiss of an angel. “Damn…” Yoongi stepped outside, crossing his arms. As he turned his head, a note caught his attention. Another yellow sticky note was resting on his door, and he quickly pulled it off.

            I slammed the door on accident I’m so sorry!:(((((( - P. JM Apt. 12

            “…What the hell? Does he carry sticky notes outside with him now?” Yoongi asked. He looked over at Jimin’s door again, before storming inside and grabbing his blue sticky note. Lifting a pen out of the cup it sat in on his desk, Yoongi scribbled that exact question down onto the paper. He walked back out and pressed it against Yoongi’s door. “Idiot.” The man huffed before heading back into his apartment and closing the door.

            The sun began to set later in the day, and Yoongi was preparing for a night at the underground rapping scene. He had good connections, knowing the man who ran the scene pretty well, and he had been preparing for another night like this for the past few days. Nights like these were the best, dawning casual black clothes rather than a convenient store polo and slacks. Yoongi looked himself over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. He looked good and felt ready. Grabbing his overnight bag, phone, wallet, and keys, Yoongi headed out the door. As he made his way to the end of the hallway, descending the steps to the bottom floor of the apartment complex, he heard a voice coming closer and closer.

            “No, I barely even opened up that assignment yet…Yeah, I read the directions like fifteen times, but I have no clue what Professor Choi wants!” Yoongi rolled his eyes, quickly slipping his hands into his pockets as he quickened his pace down the steps. The other man he passed did not once look in his direction, so immersed in his conversation with whoever was on the phone. Yoongi didn’t even bother offering a nonverbal greeting, as he made it to the bottom of the steps and headed straight out the door and in the direction of the train station.   

            Jimin heard the front door of the apartment building slam shut, but didn’t turn back to look at it. “Yeah, if you want to come over, we should work on it together, Tae.”

            “Sure. I’ll take Yeontan for a walk and then I’ll-.”

            Jimin’s eyes finally fell onto his front door as he went to unlock it, and he blinked. “Oh my goodness.”

            “Hm? What is it?” Taehyung asked from the other side of the phone.

            “My neighbor being a bit of a hardass because I slam my door when I leave the house and I guess it wakes him up. I have never once seen the guy, so I can’t even go and have a real conversation with him.”

            “Ew. Guess you should slam the door on purpose and see if he busts your door down.” Jimin chuckled a bit as he stepped into his house.

            “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He hummed. “I’ll get dinner ready, so just lemme know when you’re here.” As the duo said their goodbyes, Jimin hung up and set his phone down onto his coffee table. His eyes wandered down to the sticky note in his hand again.

            Do you keep sticky notes on you at all times now just to talk to me? – M. YG, Apt. 13

            Hmm…Jimin’s eyebrow raised a bit, his eyes scanning the sentence over and over as he stood in his living room in silence. I might be able to have some fun with this. Jimin walked towards his desk, grabbing a colored pencil and his set of sticky notes. Quickly, Jimin scribbled down a reply and hurried out the door to stick it on the neighbor’s door. He took a moment to stare at his handy work, laughing a bit to himself. “This is fun.” He said to himself, heading inside.

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            Despite the lights and the blaring music that were erupting the underground rap scene in a sea of constant energy, Yoongi was currently sitting backstage, arms crossed as his head rested against the wall. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. The only reason was that he heard a familiar voice coming his way that alerted his attention, making him lookup. He saw fellow underground rapper, Kim Namjoon, better known as his stage name RM. RM was drinking some water, and as he got closer, Yoongi could see the sweat dripping down his forehead and covering the collar of his shirt. Being under the blaring lights amongst a sea of screaming fans, belting out raps so fast it can make your head spin was enough to send someone backstage with a little drip or two on their forehead and frantically searching for a glass of water.

            “I rarely see you sitting and resting before a performance. Everything okay, Hyung?” RM asked curiously. Yoongi nodded.

            “Yeah. My neighbor just loves to slam his door, so I end up waking up in a panic almost every other day and I find it hard to go back to sleep afterward.” RM offered an amused chuckle. “So, I thought I could rest here before I go on, but-.”

            As if scripted, the current performer provided a loud and aggressive yell as he finished his final verse, sending the crowd into a fit of hysterical cheering and howling over him. “Well, yeah. That…” Once again, RM chuckled, and this time Yoongi followed.

            “I’m sure you’ll wake up once you get on stage, Hyung,” RM assured. The duo offered one another a wave, and RM headed deeper backstage to find something to eat. Yoongi slowly rose from his spot on the floor, and headed towards the back of the stage, waiting for his performance. As he watched the current performer finish up, he took a deep breath. He had no time to worry about his obnoxious neighbor, he had more important things to worry about.

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            He had finished yet another phenomenal performance, the crowd cheering and shouting for him as he belted out every word, every syllable slipping through his lips at the fast and intense pace that Yoongi had become known for. After his performance, RM and he, like they always did, went out to a local 24-hour restaurant to eat, celebrating their hard work by stuffing their faces. Namjoon would mostly do the talking, about school life or his love life. Love life? Yoongi thought to himself. Do people have those? Despite his sarcastic comment to himself, Yoongi continued to listen as Namjoon gushed over the date he had taken her on just recently.

            “Anyway, we went for a walk in a local park and got some lunch. It was something special, Hyung.”

            “I’m glad.” Yoongi smiled a bit. Anyone who met this version of Namjoon, someone who is wise beyond his years and talks as if everything he says is being graded by a college philosophy professor but god damn it if you don’t want to take in every last work anyway, would never imagine that he’s also the same guy that shouts swears and throws his head back as he spits straight fire with a deep voice almost every night for the underground rap scene. They were two different people, almost, and Yoongi knew them both well.

            “You should find yourself, someone, too.” Namjoon pointed out. “I think it would do you some good.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, popping a fry into his mouth as Namjoon continued. “I mean, when the time comes, of course. You can’t rush this kind of stuff.”

            “I guess not.” Yoongi hummed. Namjoon, sensing Yoongi was already bored by the subject, moved on by asking him if he wanted dessert. Yoongi scoffed playfully. Of course, he did.

            Yoongi was entering his apartment building just as the rays of the sun were rising over the buildings of Seoul. He was full, and being full made him dirt tired. The idea of sprawling out in bed, Holly snuggling up beside him, just filled him with such content that he could barely contain it. The sight of his door at the end of the hallway made his hand slipped into his back pocket, and pull out his house key. When he approached his door, however, the bright, yellow square pressed right on top of his little peephole. He pulled it off and skimmed it.  

Do you like that I always have you on my mind? – P.JM

A crudely scribbled wink was placed beside it and Yoongi felt the back of his ears heat up just slightly. What on earth was this punk trying to pull? He looked at Jimin’s door, assuming the boy was still asleep, preparing to wake up any moment to get ready for work. Yoongi walked into his house, closing the door behind him. Grabbing his sticky note, he scribbled down a response and walked back outside.

I hate you. But I think it is kind of funny how seriously you’re taking this. – M.YG

Upon walking back outside, Yoongi walked to Jimin’s door. As he pressed the sticky note to the door, he heard a bit of commotion coming from inside the apartment. After further examination, Yoongi could hear the faint sound of an alarm clock, until it was interrupted by someone seemingly putting it on snooze. Yoongi blinked, stepping back from the door. Jimin was awake this early? Could he finally have an opportunity to meet this little brat once and for all, and put this dumb game of cat and mouse to rest?

            When the time comes, of course. Namjoon’s deep voice played through his mind. Yoongi once again looked at the sticky note that was resting on his door, and he crossed his arms. He could very easily wait for Jimin, or even initiate and knock on the door. But for some reason, his body wouldn’t let him go any closer to the door. It didn’t make any sense to him. However, before he could try to rationalize with himself, he walked back into his room.

            “…I’ll wait and see if he replies to the note,” Yoongi said softly, locking his door and heading into his bedroom to get some much-needed shut-eye.

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

            Jimin did reply to that note. This unique method of communication made them excited to come home, even more so than before. Every second that passed ascending the steps of their apartment made their heart beat a little faster, until before they knew it, they were practically sprinting past other tenants and up the steps to get to their apartments faster. Reaching the door was like some sort of euphoria each time, their minds racing with what the response of the other could possibly be. It became a daily dose of serotonin, something they looked forward to. With every day that passed, every note that found itself on one of their doors made them feel a little closer with one another. They studied each other’s handwriting, their phrasing, Yoongi smiled at every silly face Jimin drew, and Jimin giggled at each sarcastic remark Yoongi provided him with. They felt close to each other without actually having to see each other.

The duo found themselves constantly sharing messages for the next week and a half. They had long since dropped the inclusion of their apartment number but instead began to include a lot of variated conversation starters. The messages were ranging from so many different comments, no longer were they only focused on the loud slams of Jimin’s door. Instead, they were question-based. What’s your favorite color? Were you born and raised in Seoul? What job do you have that keeps you from ever actually meeting me?

That last and most recent one stunned Jimin when he saw it pressed against his door one evening. He had just gotten home from work, ready to prepare for his friend Taehyung’s arrival for their planned study session when he saw this question. He walked back inside, grinning a bit. So far, Jimin had been the one to insinuate the flirtatious messages, but to see Yoongi ask one this time, just made him feel something in his stomach. Stomach nostalgic and exciting.

Taehyung did not seem as invested in this.

“So, you still haven’t talked to the guy?” He asked curiously.

“Well, no,” Jimin said, not even bothering to look up from his homework. “I work when he sleeps, and he works when I sleep, so we don’t get the chance.”

“It can’t always be perfectly lined up that way.”

“…Has been so far.”

“Okay then, have you sent him a reply to his message?” Jimin nodded.

“I told him I go to school and work at a restaurant during my off days.” Taehyung nodded as he listened to his friend continue to talk about the story, he thought he had only heard in dramas and television shows. As he looked up at Jimin from his notes, he could see Jimin’s eyes sparkling a bit.

“It’s charming, and I think he’s just too nervous to talk to me in person right now. Which is fine, I don’t know if I’d want to talk to him yet either. I like things the way they-.” Before Jimin could finish, Taehyung stood up, catching his friend’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“You might not be ready to talk yet, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.” Jimin felt his heart sink as he watched Taehyung head to the door.

“What? Tae, no please!” Jimin quickly followed after him. “He’s probably already at work. Or at least getting ready to go.”

            “So? He can spare a minute to say hi to his neighbor.” Taehyung said simply. Jimin followed his friend outside, continuing to try and turn him back around. No luck. Taehyung saw the note Jimin said he posted on Yoongi’s door but wasted on time knocking.

“Tae-.” Jimin covered his face. His heart was racing, and he felt like he wanted to cry, but he wasn’t sure why. His eyes were burning and the idea that this could be the moment Yoongi steps out of his apartment and into his view…well, he just wasn’t ready.

“…Okay, guess he did go to work,” Tae said, turning back to Jimin. When Jimin looked up, Taehyung could see his red eyes and slightly trembling lips. “Are you that nervous to meet this guy?”

“Of course, I am! We never started talking until I slammed the door and woke him up. Sure, he seems to be over it now but what if he doesn’t like me when we meet? I didn’t think this would last so long…I can be flirty and fun on the notes, I think I’ll get too nervous if I were to meet him right now.” Taehyung said, tossing his arm around Jimin and leading him back inside.

“Then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought…” Taehyung said simply.

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

“So, he works at a restaurant hm?” Yoongi muttered to himself, setting his note in his pocket. He, much like Jimin had been doing for a while, pulled out his little sticky notes from his pocket and scribbled down a comment, pressing it to Jimin’s door. He had just arrived home from a night soft at the store.

Once I find out which restaurant, just know I’ll make it my regular spot. -M.YG

Jimin almost collapsed on the floor when he read that comment after his shift that afternoon. He was tempted to share the restaurant he worked at, but still, he didn’t feel ready yet. The idea that he could run into Yoongi at any moment when he wasn’t ready, freaked him out something fierce. However, Yoongi didn’t have to know that. His next note read the following:

You must be into the kinky serving fetishes, aren’t you? Well, don’t expect me to give in that easily! – P.JM

“Oh my God…” Yoongi snickered, scratching his cheek a bit. That next morning, Yoongi made sure to only give an adequate reply to Jimin’s comment:

Listen here, punk. I just want to see you working and now I’m being needlessly kink shamed. I’ll never forgive you. -M.YG

As Jimin rested on his couch, a smile formed, and he couldn’t stop staring at the note that was clutched so tightly in his hands that he almost crumpled it up. He glanced over at his little pile of post-it notes on his dresser. He didn’t know what Yoongi looked like, but he couldn’t help imagine what his face looked like, all scrunched up in embarrassment at the idea of sexual kinks. Jimin couldn’t wait for the idea of seeing him in person, and he sat up, hurrying over and grabbing hold of his pen and paper, scribbling down his response.                    

That evening, as Yoongi’s performance high, was wearing off, he stood just under the awning of the venue, watching as the rain fell in buckets around him. He had watched the weather and had even brought his jacket to the short shift he had to cover at the convenience store. However, after rushing out of there, his mind elsewhere, he realized his jacket was still hanging on the rack in the back of the staff room. He kicked himself just thinking about it. Running a hand through his hair, he watched as Namjoon stepped beside him, crossing his arms.         

“My girlfriend is gonna be here in a few minutes.” He stated. “I’m sure she’ll drive you home.” Yoongi smiled.

“Tell her to thank you, but I’m not far from here. If I run then take a hot shower, I’ll be okay.” Namjoon sighed, crossing his arms.

“Hyung, you’ll get sick.” He pointed out. Yoongi nodded.

“Remember the time I told you I got into that nasty motorcycle accident as a teen and messed up my shoulder?” he asked. Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, no cold I’ve had since has compared to that. I’ll be okay. Night.” Just like that, with a wave of his hand, Yoongi rushed out of Namjoon’s sight, in the direction of his apartment. When he arrived, he was soaked to the bone, not truly underestimating the power of the rain at the moment. He honestly just wanted to get home. As he headed to his door, he saw a sticky note on his door and grinned as he took it.

You probably look so cute right now, when you’re embarrassed! – P.JM

“Cute, hm?” A curious tongue pressed on the inside of Yoongi’s mouth, a grin forming on his lips as he saw a droplet of a waterfall off the tip of his lips and onto the floor. Heading inside, he set the note down on the table and went to shower.

Jimin did not think too much of it when Yoongi did not respond the next morning. It rained, and that must have blown it away, no big deal. Jimin was in a rush anyway and hurried to his morning classes without thinking too much of it. He’ll probably notice before he goes to work, and he’ll put a new one up. The hopeful student thought to himself. His stomach bubbled with a childlike giddiness of how he would mock the older man for it in future messages, and he practically skipped to school. However, upon returning that afternoon, Jimin came home in the evening to see…well…he didn’t see anything on his door. No sticky note, no remnant of a sticky note, no nothing. It made Jimin’s little lips turn into a sour pout as he entered his apartment. Maybe it blew away. It’s still windy after the rainstorm…Jimin thought to himself, locking the door. Despite having this thought run through his mind, Jimin still felt a sense of uneasiness course throughout his body. Jimin walked to his desk, setting his bag down and slipping into his chair. Maybe he’s running late so I got home before he could do it…Jimin lowered his head down on the table. “I shouldn’t let something so silly get to me. I’ll just write one to him and see what happens tomorrow…” Jimin quickly got up. After scribbling something down, Jimin headed out the door and pressed the new sticky note to his door. Letting out a soft sigh, Jimin headed inside, planning to distract himself with homework until he figured out the true meaning of what was going on with his next-door neighbor.

            Much to Jimin’s utter disappointment, no message was left for him the next morning when he got up. When he looked towards Yoongi’s door, he saw that the original post-it he had left the evening prior was still there. Walking over, Jimin pulled it from the door and frowned as he stared at the hours-old message. He pouted. Well, this changed things completely. Jimin took one step closer to the door, temporarily courageous enough to knock. Did he not go to work today? There had to be a reason for Yoongi to just…stop, right? Jimin pressed the note back onto the door and quickly headed back inside. Grabbing a sticky note, Jimin scribbled down: Oh, so now we’re ignoring me? >3< - P.JM, placing that onto the door beside the previous note. Jimin knew he could always…you know…knock. But he just didn’t want to…so he headed inside his apartment to see what tomorrow would bring.

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

“It’s been almost five days, Taehyung.” Jimin whimpered over the phone. “And he still hasn’t replied. My post-it notes are piling up. I think he’s over it…” Legs pulled to his chest, Jimin rested a puffed-out cheek onto his knees, while his hand cradled his phone against his ear.

“Well…” Taehyung began. “You can always go talk to him for once. Maybe this is his way of telling you that he wants to meet you in person.” Jimin huffed.

“But I…Taehyung I told you already, I’m too nervous to meet him in person. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“But what if it does and you’re just stalling?” Taehyung asked simply. He could hear his best friend whine over the phone, and it made him smile. Although he found the whole ordeal a bit dramatic on Jimin’s end, Taehyung didn’t want his friend to be upset. “How about this.” He began. “Jungkook invited me to see his friend perform at some underground rap thing this Friday. Do you want to come? Get your mind off of everything?” Jimin hummed in response. “If you don’t hear from your mysterious ink prince by then, consider it a sign and go talk to him in person.” Jimin was silent for a moment, and Taehyung rested his head against the back of his spinning office chair. “Well?”

“…Fine. I’ll go.” He said simply. “But the last part of your deal is a maybe, at best.” Taehyung cheered on the other end of the line before Jimin said his goodbyes and hung up. He sighed, resting back on his bed. “I should probably finally talk to him…” Jimin mumbled to himself, holding up the most recent sticky note he had yet to put on the door. “But if I put too many more then he might start thinking I’m annoying. I’ll just have to wait….”

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

            A deep cough ripped through Apartment 13 the next morning, and Yoongi groaned. He was bundled in several blankets, too cold to be uncovered, yet also sweating from the absolute fiery inferno raging within him. “I really should have taken that ride the other day, damn it…” Yoongi grumbled to himself, feeling another cough shake his body. As he was resting, the sound of jingling keys alerted his attention, and his head lolled in the direction of his door. His name was called, and the sound of Holly padding the floor towards the door made him sit up. He had to drag himself out of bed, wrapping one of his many blankets around himself as he did so. Upon entering the kitchen, his coworker Hoseok was standing there. When he caught sight of his friend, he grinned.

“Hyung! You’re finally up and out of bed! Is my soup working just like I said it would?” Yoongi only groaned as he shuffled to the couch, plopping down onto it and allowing for the coolness of the new location to envelop him. He heard footsteps approach him, and when he looked over, Hoseok leaned down and felt his forward. “Your fever seems to be breaking too. If you keep this up, you’ll be ready to perform again Friday night.” Yoongi nodded.

“I hate to be a burden on you, Hoseok…” Yoongi sighed. “But thank you.” Hoseok smiled.

“It’s the least I could do. If you didn’t have to cover my shift last minute, you could have brought your jacket straight to the venue and avoided this whole event.” He said simply. As Hoseok continued to stock Yoongi’s fridge, he hummed. “Oh yeah. I saw that there were a bunch of sticky notes taped to your door when I walked in. All of them said ‘P.JM’ on them, too.” Yoongi sat up once again as Hoseok continued. “Is it…a secret lover? Hmmm, let’s see…P.JM…Park Jimyul…Park Jung-.” As Hoseok began rattling off different names, Yoongi stood fully up off the couch. He had to steady himself for a moment, and the immediate action stopped Hoseok’s daydreaming and alerting him back to his friend. “W-what are you doing?” he asked as he watched Yoongi walk towards him. He stuck out his hand, and Hoseok pouted, handing his friend the sticky notes. Yoongi looked down at them.

You probably look so cute right now when you’re embarrassed! – P.JM

Oh, so you’re going to ignore me now? >3< -P.JM

Okay, maybe you are…. -P.JM

The last one had Yoongi’s heart tighten. He sighed, heading over to the door despite Hoseok’s pleas to sit back down. After forcing down another cough, Yoongi stepped outside. The bright lights made him flinch, but he still stepped right outside and looked at Jimin’s house. He was too sick to get out of bed, much less reply to the messages he was receiving from Jimin. Based on how many days he’s been sick, and the number of replies he had taped to his door, Yoongi realized Jimin had stopped replying for at least two days. Running a hand through his hair, Yoongi sniffled and walked closer to the door. He could hear a faint noise coming from behind Jimin’s door and assumed that he had yet to leave for work or class. Yoongi was tempted to knock, however, he was currently not feeling well enough to maintain a long conversation with this kid. Also, he was in no way looking his best for a first meeting. He simply headed back into his apartment, earning himself a scolding from Hoseok about going outside barefoot when he was sick. Yoongi drowned it out as he crawled back onto the couch.

It had seemingly been two days since he had gotten any other messages. Jimin was probably over it.

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            “Guys, this is going to be so fun.” Jungkook beamed, turning to his friends. Taehyung smiled, throwing a supportive arm around Jimin. The trio stood inside of the venue late that Friday night, the music already blasting and people nearby already being sure to try their hand at the bar. A few people had already performed, and they were currently taking a small break while they prepared for the next group. That was when the trio had arrived, mid-shift. Jungkook looked at Jimin, who was simply watching the stage despite nothing of interest currently happening. “You recognize any names, Jimin-Hyung?” he asked, and Jimin looked over at the other boy.

            “Hm? Oh, uh no…this music isn’t my thing.” Taehyung offered Jimin a tight hug around the shoulders, grinning.

            “No need to pout, Jiminie~. Tonight’s the night you may confront your sticky-note admirer. You should be happy.” This had been the topic of conversation for the trio, mainly Jungkook and Taehyung, since they met up, so Jungkook was already well aware of the whole event. Jimin sighed, pouting even more despite his friend’s high energy.

            “I told you, I’m already not looking forward to it.”

            “He needs a drink.” Jungkook nodded. “I’ll grab us all something.” He said, hurrying over to the nearby bar as he excused himself past some people. Jimin crossed his arms, shuffling in his spot as Taehyung tried to talk his ear off. He had still gotten no replies from Yoongi, and the thought only brought him down more. All he wanted was for Jungkook’s friend to perform so he could go home and sleep.

            When Jungkook was grabbing a few drinks, his attention was alerted by a deep voice calling his name. When he looked over, he saw Namjoon approaching him with his usual kind smile gracing his lips. “Glad you made it in time. Are your friends here?”

            “They’re somewhere in the crowd.” Jungkook beamed, smiling. “Are you going on soon? I’m excited to see you perform again.” Namjoon grinned, nodding.

            “They’ll probably be ready in a couple of minutes. My friend is performing before me, so I should go get ready, I just wanted to come to say hi before I did.” He said happily. “But I’ll come to find you after the show, okay?”

            “Okay, see you later, Hyung.” Jungkook chimed. He watched as Namjoon waved him off, before disappearing into the crowds of bustling teenagers and young adults, all of whom were continuing to chat and converse long after Namjoon squeezed through their groups of people. Jungkook, pleased to have seen his friend, grabbed the drinks and headed back into the crowd as well.

            Jimin rested idly beside Taehyung, who was happily sipping his drink and chatting with those around him. Normally, Jimin would be right in there as well, eagerly chatting up individuals and learning their backstories over a drink while simultaneously sharing his own. However, he didn’t feel like it tonight. He couldn’t stop thinking about Yoongi, he couldn’t stop thinking about the entire ordeal. He wanted to at least know the reason for Yoongi’s sudden pause in responses. Though his mind told him to be sensible, his heart was doing anything but.

            “Hyung, don’t look so down.” Jungkook smiled at him. “Everything with that neighbor of yours will work out. I think you should take a deep breath and have fun for now. Standing around like a sad sack won’t do any good for anyone.” Jimin smiled a bit, taking another sip of his drink.

            “I guess you’re right.” He said simply.

            “Besides, if it turns out he really did get bored and just stopped writing altogether, then it’s his loss and he deserves to be alone.” Both men chuckled at Jungkook’s statement. “My friend goes on soon so please just let loose and have some fun.” He grinned. Jimin nodded. As if on cue, the lights dimmed again and an announcer, a man in his mid-20s with glasses on and lots of excessive jewelry, got on stage with a microphone in hand. He grinned.

            “I hope everyone’s ready to introduce the next performer of the night.” He said, and a sea of eager shouts filled the room. Taehyung and Jungkook cheered happily beside Jimin, who raised his half-filled glass with a grin. “Let’s give a big welcome to the next performer, SUGA!” Almost immediately, the crowd began shouting and the group watched as a male hurried on the stage. Jimin watched the man grab his microphone, brushing the hair out of his cat-like eyes and offering a grin to the crowd. He quickly turned his head, coughing into his hands silently, before turning back around. Jimin blinked, watching as the music began to beat through the room. Almost immediately, this man known as SUGA began belting out intense rap verses, so quickly that it took an untrained ear a lot more time to process the words being shouted. Despite that, Jimin was in awe, entranced by the flow and the beat of the man giving his everything on stage. He could hear hints of a raspy voice on certain notes, and it made Jimin tilt his head as he listened, wanting to know if he could hear anymore. Watching this man perform, it was almost as if any of Jimin’s problems were blown away simply by the power of this man’s verses. He couldn’t turn away as he watched. Jungkook must have noticed Jimin’s heavily focused gaze because he held his arm tightly.

            “Isn’t he amazing? Everyone that performs here is crazy good. My friend is probably up next, so get ready!” Jimin now offered the younger boy an even wider, more genuine smile, as the duo turned back to the man performing on the stage. He watched a SUGA’s attention scanned the crowd, eventually landing on the area where Jimin stood. Jimin stared up at him, arms crossed with an amused smile on his face. From his spot, he could see an amused grin form on the performer’s face as he continued to go up and down the stage, the microphone pressed to close to his lips you’d think he was trying to eat it.

            As SUGA’s performance drew to a close, Jimin smiled and clapped, even cheering along with the rest of the crowd. SUGA lifted his hand to wave out to the crowd, before offering a bow of his head in appreciation. As he scurried off stage, Jimin could have sworn he saw SUGA’s intense gaze turn to him once more. Jimin only would have noticed because his eyes were practically glued to the man as he exited the stage.

            “Wasn’t that amazing?” Taehyung beamed. “Holy crap!” Jimin nodded.

            “Yeah, it was.” He chimed. His friend offered him a boxy grin, and they raised their drinks in a toast before tossing them back.

            Backstage, Min Yoongi offered a cough into his arm as he descended backstage. Almost immediately, Namjoon patted him on the back.

            “Yet another stellar performance, hm?” He grinned. “You did awesome, Hyung.” SUGA nodded.

            “Thanks.” He hummed. “But I think all of that messed with my throat. I might head out early and get some rest.” Namjoon nodded, watching as Yoongi suppressed another small cough. “Good luck out there, my guy.” He waved off his friend, before stopping backstage and grabbing all of his belongings. He walked out towards the door, and the sound of people cheering and chatting filled his ears. As he headed to the door, he looked over into the crowd. His mind was wandering back to that gentleman in the crowd. The one with wide eyes and plump, adorable lips stared at him in awe as he performed. He wondered if that guy was still here, he wondered if he was still around if he wanted to talk. However, no luck for him, and with a shrug, and cough into his arm, he headed home.

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

            Jimin got home around 1 a.m. the next morning, exhausted and with a sore throat from hours of shouting. Though he had thought he would go home and sleep right after Jungkook’s friend performed, he ended up staying for several performances after, SUGA’s performance hitting him with some sort of second wind. A breathless chuckle escaped his lips as he headed down towards his apartment door. When he arrived, he opened his door and realized that, once again, no note was waiting outside his door. He sighed. “Guess I’ll keep my end of the deal, Kim Taehyung…” he scoffed to himself. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow…” with that decided, he headed inside.

            The next morning, Jimin woke up feeling refreshed. He had the day off, allowing him to sleep in just slightly after his late night at the venue. When he woke up, a sinking feeling hit his stomach. His greatest fear came to fruition today, and he knew he had to at least knock on the door next store…he had to try and talk to Min Yoongi. As he got out of bed, Jimin threw on a set of casual clothes, thinking of what he was going to say. As he continued to think about it, that little knot in his stomach got tighter and tighter, and his mind began racing. He had been running a few sentence starters in his mind. Like a teenager preparing for his first date, Jimin had no idea what was going to become of this. Stepping into his living room, Jimin’s eyes fell onto his sticky notes on his desk. As he walked over, lifting the sticky notes, Jimin blinked.

            “Maybe I’ll write a note first,” Jimin said simply. Grabbing hold of a pen, he jotted down a note and then headed towards the door. As he stepped out onto the hallway, he turned towards Apartment 13.  The apartment whose tenant had somehow managed to get him feeling like a giddy schoolgirl for almost a month. As he walked up to the door, he pressed the note to the door, making extra sure that this thumb pressed against it. After a moment, he stepped back. He stood there for a moment, staring at it. For a moment, he asked himself if it would do something remarkable, hence why he hadn’t moved yet. Eventually, he decided it was time to head off. Since he was up, he might as well get breakfast. Turning on his heel, he began walking down the hallway towards the stairs that waited at the end.

            However, just as he took the first few steps, the sound of a door clicking behind him made him stop dead in his tracks. When he turned around, he saw the door to Apartment 13 open, and out step its tenant. When he turned around, the door closed and a pair of cat-like eyes stared in Jimin’s direction. He felt his heart sink into his chest, and he put his hands in his pockets. Yoongi was standing right there, only a few feet away. This idea, though completely possible in the world of reality, never felt like it would be something Jimin experienced.

            Yoongi stared at Jimin as well for a moment, then blinked. “Oh…” he said. “You were the kid I saw at the performance last night.” Jimin immediately nodded, the images of SUGA spitting fire last night flashing through his mind.

            “Yes…” he said. “I…wow, what a small world that you-.”

            “-And I happen to be neighbors, I know.” Yoongi also chuckled. He stepped closer. Almost immediately, he coughed a little, covering his hand with his arm. Jimin blinked. “Never thought I would get to see you.”]

            “I know,” Jimin said softly. “I’ve wanted to come and talk to you but…I guess I’ve gotten nervous each time.”

            Yoongi smiled. “Me too…” he said. “But no better time like the present, right?” He turned over to the door again, tugging off the sticky note. He skimmed it over and smiled. “This says ‘I want to talk to you but I’m too nervous. So, let me know if you want to do that’. Huh…” Yoongi set the note into his pocket. “Crazy how fate works, huh?” he grinned.

            “Yeah.” Jimin smiled, walking closer. “Well, you stopped replying for a while, so I thought you were kind of over everything. I didn’t want to seem annoying.”

            “Yeah, about that.” Yoongi sighed. “I was sick for the past few days. Getting over a cold.” As if on cue, he suppressed another cough into his chest. “See? I’m better now, but still…”

            “Oh…” Jimin said. See, you dramatic idiot. It was sensible.

            “By the time I got better, you had stopped. I figured you were kind of over it too. Funny hm?” Yoongi offered a smile.

            “Well, I thought it was fun.” Jimin laughed a bit. “It made me look forward to coming home more so than I already did.” Yoongi nodded.

            “Me too…” He agreed. A moment of silence fell over them, and Jimin looked up at Yoongi. Yoongi scratched the back of his head, also seemingly trying to find the right words to say. Then, Jimin got an idea.

            “Do you uhm…want to join me for breakfast?” Jimin asked curiously. Yoongi blinked. “Maybe we can get to know each other without writing it all down, you know?” Yoongi smiled a bit. “If you want, of course. I don’t know why you came out here, after all, so I-.”

            “I stepped out here because I heard someone outside my door.” He smiled. “Kinda glad I did.” Jimin turned a bit pink and chuckled. “Let me throw on some…” he motioned to his sweatpants and old white shirt. “Decent clothes?” Jimin nodded. “…Here, come in.” Yoongi motioned to his door, leading the almost hesitant Jimin inside. Jimin grinned, quickly following the older man into the house. As he closed the door, he struck up a conversation. “So…what had you at my show last night?” he hummed.

            As the conversation moved the duo from Yoongi’s home to the streets of Seoul and eventually to a nearby breakfast place, the both of them only thought of one thing coursing through their mind:

            It’s about time.

Return to Ship Fic Masterlist

[nyxi-styx]

No Air

Fandom: Sanders Sides Ship: M/M, Prinxiety, AKA: Virgil/Roman Words: 2,300 Rating: E for everyone Warnings: hanahaki, body horror? maybe?, blood, difficulty breathing, angst but like... softly. Gently. Tags: unrequited love, but not really, fluff, happy ending, very Princely Roman but also like insecure Roman, Logan and Patton are fatherly and heckin’ concerned Characters: Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, and very briefly, Thomas Sanders A/N: This is my first ever (and maybe only but idk) Sanders Sides fanfic. I hope you all enjoy it. I usually don’t like the hanahaki trope but thanks to a fic by @xpouii, I had an idea that I just needed to get out. So it goes without saying that this was entirely new territory to me both in the hanahaki aspect and the Sanders Sides aspect. Please enjoy! :)

The moment they’d sunk back into the mindscape after discussing the hidden dark sides of Disney films with Thomas, Virgil’s chest felt tight. This wasn’t the typical fearful, anxious tightness he was accustomed to. No, now he was wheezing. Like he couldn’t take in enough air. He sat down on his bed and took a few slow, calculated breaths. It helped some, but it didn’t go away entirely. What was wrong with him? The odd condition seemed to continue to plague Virgil with increasing intensity over the next several months. Each time Thomas summoned him, he kept his words few and his answers brief to avoid gasping in front of him and alerting him to his condition. It wasn’t possible for him to develop severe asthma… right? No. And it wasn’t some standard respiratory illness. Thomas was fine. He felt like he was going crazy. Maybe that was the lack of oxygen to his brain. It seemed that every time Virgil interacted with Roman directly it became harder to breathe. Figures. Of course that pompous idiot is going to be the death of me. The next time Thomas had gathered the four of them for a video, Roman had actually complimented him in front of everyone. Virgil coughed violently and felt something in his mouth. His eyes widened as he closed his lips firmly. It wasn’t bile. It wasn’t saliva. What was it? It filled his mouth and throat, drying both out entirely. Unfortunately, he’d drawn the attention of the other four. “Virge? You okay, buddy,” Thomas asked gently. Virgil nodded and gave a thumbs up gesture before turning his back to the group. He spit whatever was in his mouth into his hand, seeing for the first time that it was a cluster of vibrant red flower petals. He gave a panicked wheeze and immediately sank back into the mindscape away from everyone else. What the hell?! I have to be going crazy. This doesn’t just happen! Flower petals?! 

Out of concern, Patton had followed Virgil into the mindscape. “You sure you’re okay there, kiddo?” The father figure reached out and touched Virgil’s shoulder, causing the other to abruptly jerk away from him. It took a moment for Virgil to be able to form the words, the illness making his mouth dry. “Yes,” he snapped at last. “I… I said I’m fine!” Startled, but no less concerned, Patton relented and backed off, returning to Thomas and the others where he was still needed. The flower petals dissolved in Virgil’s hand and he curled up on his bed, pulling his hoodie up as a comfort measure as he continued to struggle to breathe. __

Roman complimented him again and, as if the coughing and flower petals weren’t bad enough, there came a sharp pain. Like hundreds of little needles poking his lungs from the inside out. Virgil was convinced he was going to die. And this was a miserable way to go. How could he even die? He was part of Thomas. Thomas was alive and well… and so were the others. But here he was… miserable every day. The pain and discomfort he was undergoing was clearly visible to everyone else despite his best efforts to hide it. They never pushed his boundaries, however, allowing him space to approach them if he desired.

“Logan, I’m concerned about Virgil,” Patton confided, catching up with the other in the mindscape when neither Roman nor Virgil could hear them. 

“Of course you are,” Logan confirmed. “We all are. There is clearly something troubling at hand and either due to his nature or whatever the issue is, he’s hiding his discomfort away from the rest of us. The problem is that without him being willing to open up- unless we are able to see the symptoms for ourselves- we have no way of knowing what it is or how to help him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Patton fretted, wringing his hands. “I don’t like it. Can we go check on him? Please. I… I know it may be a long shot. But. He needs our help.” Together, they phased through into Virgil’s room, both expecting to hear a snarky and sharp-tongued “Don’t either of you know how to knock?” but instead they heard more aggressive coughing and arrived just in time to watch Virgil stare in horror at the blood-soaked flower petals in his cupped hands. 

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Patton exclaimed, causing Virgil to look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Oh, kiddo,” he tutted sadly. “I think you’ve got yourself a love sickness. Unrequited love sickness.”

“Wh-what?”

“Specifically, Hanahaki disease,” Logan explained. “It’s a disease caused by unrequited love and pining. Typically, it begins when the patient realizes their affections for another and believes it to be unrequited or one-sided. As it goes unaddressed and untreated, it naturally progresses and worsens. Luckily, you’re not in the final stages yet, though you are in a dire situation. There is hope. The color and/or type of petal can be an indicator of the object of your affections: either their favorite flower or their favorite color. May I?” He approached Virgil tentatively and picked up one of the flower petals, wiping away the blood to confirm that the petal itself was red and not merely stained that way from the blood. “Given that there is blood, I’d guess your lungs and heart may be filled with thorns. These are definitely rose petals, though I think the color alone tells us everything we need to know. I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to Roman about this at all?”

Virgil ignored Patton’s soft, wistful gasp and aggressively shook his head. “No,” he wheezed. “No and please… don’t…” He paused to cough. “...don’t tell him. I… I think it’s a… mistake.” He coughed again, letting petals fall to the floor, rosebuds tumbling after them. “We.... don’t get along. It’s… it can’t be.” “You know sometimes when we like someone, we don’t know how to express that. So… we cover up our emotions by… calling them nicknames or… teasing them. It’s not the nicest or healthiest way to express fondness, but it’s very normal,” Patton explained calmly. “So what your… well, anxiety… might be telling you is the two of you not getting along and Roman not liking you, might really just be a normal case of… playground pigtail-pulling.”

“Apt, Patton. Thank you,” Logan complimented. “We can’t force you to do anything, Virgil, and we certainly don’t want to make you emotionally uncomfortable on top of your physical pain and discomfort, but I do believe you should think it over before it’s too late. If Roman returns your feelings, you can be cured. The other options are to die- you can’t- or suffer for the rest of time. And Thomas will notice something is wrong. You can’t perform your basic function and protect him if you’re entirely incapacitated. We will leave you with that and allow you your privacy.” “You know where we are if you need us, Virgil,” Patton assured him. “And… well, we care about you, darn it! So please… do what’s best for yourself.”

No. No, it just couldn’t be the truth. They had to be mistaken. He didn’t love Roman. And even if he did, Roman most certainly didn’t love him back. There would be no cure for this. He would just have to get used to the feeling of sharp thorns digging into his heart and pressing against the insides of his lungs. He curled up and turned The Nightmare Before Christmas on his TV. It was always a comfort. He pulled his hood up, wheezing as he stifled another cough and tried to just focus on the movie. As always, the movie was comforting… until Sally was wandering the town and the lyrics ‘and does he notice/my feelings for him/when will he see/how much he means to me/I think it’s not to be’ caused poor Virgil’s heart to thump painfully against the vine of thorns in his chest. He wheezed again in panic and coughed up more rosebuds, petals and blood. He’d heard this song scores of times. Why now did it seem so significant? 

‘And will we ever/end up together/no I think not/it’s never to become/for I am not the one…’ Virgil’s chest tightened again and he couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down his cheeks, carrying black eye shadow with them. Fuck. They were right. Of course, they’re right. He really was in love with Roman. Against his better judgement, against the odds of everything they’d been through together… his heart belonged to the over-the-top, dramatic, pompous… wonderful, bright, creative, uncertain, dazzling… prince.

Virgil drew his legs up to his chest and put his forehead on his knees, letting the tears fall freely. He felt hopeless. He was going to be stuck this way forever. Once again, he coughed violently. This time, however, he had to manually remove the large obstruction protruding from his mouth. A full rose blossom. This must have been what Logan said was ‘the final stages’. His breaths became shallower. He constantly felt like he was suffocating, breathing through layers of fabric. And mostly, that was true, thought there was nothing over his face. His own feelings were suffocating him, manifesting in painful roses.

Moving became agony within another day, so Virgil elected to lie down and suffer in relative peace. Each breath was labor and the carpet quickly became littered with discarded rose blossoms and buds that he plucked from his mouth with shaking hands and allowed to tumble to the floor. Eventually, he gave up pulling them away. Another always replaced it within moments.

Patton had been stewing ever since they left Virgil after finding out about his condition. He could no longer sit idly by while someone he cared about was suffering. Virgil could be upset all he wanted, but it was the right thing to do. He had to tell Roman. He was certain the prince returned Virgil’s affections anyway. Determined, he set off to tell Roman, taking a very reluctant Logan along with him to explain. “Roman! You need to save Virgil. He’s got the honey-hockey disease and you’re the only one who can cure him!” “Um, that’s Hanahaki, Patton,” Logan corrected gently, only to be met with a confused look from Roman. He sighed, cleared his throat, drew a deep breath, and explained yet again. 

“So, what you’re saying is that our grumpy, frumpy little rain cloud is cursed and can only be saved by the kiss of true love from a prince?!” Roman’s face lit up exuberantly at the idea. He was made for this. “A worthy quest. It will be done!”

“Well, not- not really,” Logan de-escalated while Patton shouted, “Exactly!” Logan sighed again, adjusting his glasses with a light air of annoyance. “Your overall idea is not incorrect, Roman, however, it has to be true and genuine romantic love. Unfortunately, friendship is not enough to save him.”

“Worry not,” Roman assured them. “I will save him! With true love’s first kiss!” Valiantly, he strode away from Patton and Logan to go and rescue Virgil; however, as soon as they were out of sight, his knightly facade faded and his insecurity had a vice grip around his stomach. Why? He knew already that Virgil loved him. That much was obvious from the illness Logan and Patton told him of. What if he rejects me anyway? What if he would rather suffer? What if he doesn’t believe me?! He took a moment to himself. He had to put all of that aside. It wasn’t about him. This was bigger than him. Virgil needed his help, consequences be damned. 

Roman took a deep breath and pushed on, entering Virgil’s room to find him lying on his back, a large rose blossom grotesquely blooming from his forced open mouth. What a pitiful state to find him in: barely breathing at all, cheeks streaked black from tears redistributing his makeup. The prince approached carefully, reaching deep to find his nerve again. “Virgil,” he called quietly before crouching beside him. As soon as Virgil opened his eyes and made eye contact with Roman, he looked away again, clearly embarrassed at his current state and the fact that Patton had obviously told Roman what was happening. 

Undeterred, Roman took Virgil’s hand gently between both of his own. “Oh… my darling raindrop. Such a silly thing to go and get ill over. Of course… of course, I love you too. You are charming in your own strange way. You bring a smile to my face more often than you believe and we make a harmonious and powerful team when needed.” Virgil looked at Roman again, his eyes full of unspoken emotion. Roman smiled at him and softly sang, “For it is plain/as anyone can see... We’re simply meant to be.” He held out the notes on the last two words with a flourish- he couldn’t help himself- and reached up with his free hand, delicately pulling the rose from Virgil’s mouth. He tossed it to the floor and used his thumb to wipe away a trail of blood on the other’s chin. He leaned in and caught Virgil’s lips with his own, softly but earnestly. He kissed him with all of the longing and hidden affection of months past, feeling like he had a lot to make up for. It was his own fault, clearly, that Virgil ended up in such a poorly state to begin with.

The moment Roman pulled away, smiling bright as the sun, Virgil could breathe openly and clearly for the first time in months. The pain of the thorns vanished, no more petals, no more flowers. Only love.

[bobbyshaddoe80]

Liberated Audio Reviews

Blake's 7 - The Liberator Chronicles Vol. 2

RELEASED AUGUST 2012

Recorded on: 18 October and 25 November 2011, and 15 March 2012

Recorded at: Moat Studios

Review By Robert L. Torres

The Magnificent Four by Simon Guerrier

'A mission to steal data from the planet Mogul goes badly wrong when Cally and Avon are outflanked and outgunned. And then they are teleported to safety – to an alien spaceship stolen from The System, which is crewed by Gilden Trent and his small team of rebels.

For Avon it’s the opportunity to start over again without Blake.

But can Trent be trusted?'

Chronological Placement:

Set during Series B between the episodes Countdown and Voice From the Past.

Magnificent. Defined in the dictionary as 'impressive, deserving of admiration, especially due to an unusual quality involving size'.

The word is often used when describing something vast in size and scope, but magnificence can also be attributed to the quality of something that involves a small group. A prime example would be the title characters of the classic Western The Magnificent Seven. Even the accomplishments made by the John Wick character could be described as magnificent despite them being done by one man.

Magnificent is an apt word to describe the impressive storytelling quality that Guerrier has pulled off with this Cally focused story.

Cally, as played by the exquisite Jan Chappell, was always one of my favorites from the original cast. She was someone that wasn't a hardened cynic like Avon (who provides much needed support for Cally in this story), nor was she cowardly like Vila. She was someone that genuinely believed in doing the right thing and saw fighting against the oppressive tyranny of the Federation to be a very serious responsibility.

I was also always fascinated by her stance as someone that, for all intents and purposes, was the alien of the group (due to her coming from a race of telepaths). I have my own thoughts and theories about the Auronar, but that can wait for another day. Despite having powers of the mind, I always felt that Cally was very much the heart of the team.

I love that this story has Cally and Avon meeting up with a group like Blake's, on a ship like the Liberator, only to learn that they are little more than highly skilled pirates.

I love that the events of the Series B episode 'Redemption' are brought up and how the crew of the Libertine are a result of the aftermath of the events from that story.

I love how the story showcases in the crew of the Libertine a distorted reflection (and perhaps a retroactive premonition) of what would happen to the crew of the Liberator should they lose their way by abandoning their morals and scruples and just give in to blind self interest... Which for the most part is exactly what started to happen during Series C and ultimately came to fruition in Series D.

A minor nitpick, but I always thought the planet Cally came from was called Auron and her people were called the Auronar. And yet in this story and others, they refer to her as being an Auron. Is it a case where one singular person is an Auron but the collective term for the species as a whole is Auronar? It is a minor thing, I know, but still something that stuck out.

Something else that is a bit of a minor flaw is that at one point in the story the voiceover narration switches from Cally to Avon. There is a specific reason why this happens in the narrative, but it still comes about rather unexpectedly.

Given the stories in these chronicles are events being recounted AFTER the fact, there is the inevitable problem of how to create tension and intrigue with life threatening peril for the characters when most fans know the show backwards and are fully aware of what the inevitable fates for many of the characters are.

Luckily for Guerrier and many other writers, they do create moments that make you wonder how such and such will be able to survive whatever life threatening peril is thrown at them, and manage to cleverly pay off how they survive without falling into 'Oh Come The Fuck On' Territory.

8 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Anyway, this story is very well done and is the first of many plots that involve coming across potential allies for the Resistance movement, only to learn the would be allies are often a lot worse than their enemies in the Federation. Definitely give it a listen.

False Positive by Eddie Robson

'Dr. Lian has a mysterious new patient – a man who was found shot in the leg near Engel City, a man who is delirious and talking about the most extraordinary acts of rebellion.

She prescribes drugs and the use of the alleviator – a device that will dig deep into his memories – to unlock the truth about Carlin Guzan.

But the truth that she exposes is far more shocking than she bargained for...'

Chronological Placement:

Set during Series B after LC Vol. 10's Retribution, between the episodes Horizon and Pressure Point.

This story is definitely a step up in quality from volume 1's 'Counterfeit' and is an excellent Blake-centric story. The framing device for the recollection of the events is actually quite clever as it ties in with the adventure itself in a very naturalistic manner.

The dialogue scenes between Blake and Dr. Liam are excellent. Kudos to Beth Chalmers for giving the character of Dr. Liam the right balance of professional intrigue and personal curiosity as she learns more and more about her 'patient'. But this story belongs to the late Gareth Thomas through and through and it is great to hear him be afforded better material than during his first go round back in 'Counterfeit'.

I always rather liked Blake from the start, and a large part of that is down to the performance of the late Gareth Thomas. The character of Roj Blake was a passionate idealist fighting for a noble cause, someone who could be diplomatic but understood the need for action rather than simple civil disobedience. As someone that broke free from an oppressive government, he immediately gains our sympathies... even if his passions occasionally bordered on overzealous fanaticism. This is largely due to what the Federation did to him personally by trying to rewrite his mind, killing his family and even destroying his public image by falsifying accusations of paedophilia.

Since the Federation enact the same tactics on countless others without any hesitation, morals or scruples, it is no wonder why Blake is so overwhelmingly passionate about wiping out the corruptive and cancerous tumor that is the Federation. Not only to avenge family, but to ensure that people are given the freedom to choose for themselves and not simply be coerced into following the rules through propaganda, torture, drugs or mind control.

Speaking of drugs and mind control, that goes to the heart of the plot: Blake going undercover at a Federation research facility that is conducting a clinical drug trial for the development of a new pacifying sedative, which the Federation hopes to employ in order to ensure total compliance and obedience to Federation doctrine.

Ironically enough, that is exactly what would come to pass towards the tail end of Series D... But we already know that, don't we?

7 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

All things considered, it is a pretty good story. This story, like a few others in the Liberator Chronicles range, could work as a two-hander stage play with a couple of tweaks. It also could easily have worked on TV or even as a full cast audio. Give it a listen.

Wolf by Nigel Fairs

“I heard his death cry. I felt it. And there was a word. ‘Wolf’. You, Servalan. You were the “Wolf”. You killed him. I want to know why.”

'Some time ago, Blake and his crew were helped by a revered Auron scientist named Gustav Nyrron. He stayed aboard the Liberator for a time and then disappeared.

Cally wants to know what happened to Nyrron, and only Servalan knows the answers.'

Chronological Placement:

Set during Series B between the episodes Pressure Point and Trial.

This is a very intriguing Servalan focused story, featuring Cally and a return appearance by Gustav Nyrron from Volume 1's 'Solitary'.

They say that a protagonist is only as good as the antagonist created to provide drama/conflict. This is especially true when the character of Supreme Commander Servalan (along with the equally excellent Space Commander Travis) was introduced as the Liberator crew's primary antagonist in the Series A episode 'Seek-Locate-Destroy'.

A large part of why the Servalan character has left such a lasting impression on the minds of fans had to do with the casting of the late Jacqueline Pearce, and the way she played the role. Her grace, charm, beauty and seductive allure went hand in hand with a ruthless ambitious edge along with a keen strategic mind.

In many ways, Servalan, as played by Jacqueline Pearce, reminded me of Alexis Colby as played by Joan Collins. Although Servalan was a bit more reserved than Alexis.

As such, it makes perfect sense that the Liberator Chronicles would provide ample opportunities to explore the villains as well as the heroes. This story does well to explore Servalan's character along with her thoughts, beliefs and how she carries herself as she recounts events. The recollection is pretty interesting cuz it comes about in multiple ways.

We learn a little bit about Servalan's childhood in reference to a game she used to play with others. Its interesting how this story, along with the upcoming 'Kerr', 'President' and 'Three', provides more insight into the character than the show ever did. The aforementioned upcoming stories do provide some great insight into why Servalan is the way she is... But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I love the scenes between Servalan and Cally, as I do not recall the two of them having much screentime during the series proper... If ever. But I could be wrong.

This story has some great twists and turns as it deals with exploring how Servalan used Nyrron as her personal plaything in her efforts to lure the Liberator into her clutches.

Although Nyrron will be featured again in the story 'Brother' off of Volume 11 (which I will talk about eventually), I think this is the story that features him the best. We learn the most about him as a character, and much kudos to Anthony Howell for bringing much pathos and nuance to the Auron scientist.

The story also lends itself quite well to philosophical debates regarding how each side views the other. Naturally, Blake's crew view Servalan and the Federation as an evil and oppressive tyranny, while Servalan and those within the Administration view Blake and his ilk as little more than terrorists wanting to bring down the only force for law and order in the galaxy.

It is that clash of ideals and personal morals that will be explored to great effect in future volumes as well as in the full cast audios.

9 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Final score for Liberator Chronicles Vol. 2 in its entirety is 8 out of 10 Plasma Bolts. It is a profound step up in quality compared to Volume 1, and it demonstrates that things can only go up from here in terms of character exploration and engaging plots.

Special credit to Craig Brawley of the Big Finish Listeners Facebook Group for his tireless efforts in mapping out the chronology of the audios and determining his they fit in with the established TV continuity.

[graphicabyss]

2020.06.23 Tegoshi Press Conference

I struggled through all 2 hours of it and honestly I’m so tired I don’t even want to talk about it. But I feel like I still need to reflect and share some important points, especially with the people who don’t know much Japanese. It’s hard for me to be objective. The past several days felt like being slapped in the face repeatedly. But I’ll try to start with the facts and minimal comments.

By now, I was 95% sure it would not change my perspective on the situation. At the very least though, I expected a sincere apology. I didn’t hear it. The general story was exactly as it was reported before, even Bunshun was essentially right. The general tone of the press-con was light and positive. Even though I didn’t get 100% with my language comprehension, it made me feel like there was no part of the story that was previously misunderstood. He made his intentions and priorities perfectly clear. He did say he was sorry a few times but he seems to see all the turmoil as collateral damage.

The YouTube live streaming viewership peaked at about 1.3 million, though it fell as the conference went on for too long. An hour longer than planned in fact. I also included the like/dislike ratio as the conference went by, it reached 79 to 26 at the end of it, and with a good reason.

First, there was an introductory speech that lasted about 40 minutes but hardly contained anything we didn’t know before. Then there were questions from the reporters and I felt like he dodged questions like a politician. He talked a lot but didn’t really say much. I thought that maybe it was just me, maybe my Japanese was failing me. But I realized that wasn’t the case as many reporters had to ask questions repeatedly and clarify to get any real answers.

Thus, he spent about an hour answering them. There were also supposed to be questions from fans sent via Youtube and Twitter but he only answered a few minor ones, claiming he couldn’t pick one or they were going by too fast. Which I totally don’t buy. The only question he read was “How to become a Tegoshi girl?”, to which he laughed and joked. Also how Emma was doing. In the end, he went back to reporter questions. He did do a Q&A on OpenRec later but I didn’t have it in me to watch it. He ended the press-conference by happily accepting someone’s request to do a “Tei” pose and smiling for the cameras.

Here’s some individual points that stuck with me:

At the very beginning, he empathised he never even lies so he will tell everything like it is.

He brought his lawyer along. He said the company made him hire one and then their lawyers figured out the details of his exit plan.

From what I got, the members hardly knew more than we did. He talked to them about his intentions in March after their performance, but after that they were largely in the dark as the lawyers did their work and the date was decided pretty abruptly.

He claimed various articles present the issue wrongly, especially emphasizing phrases like “Cabaret Tegoshi” and “Tegoshi girls”. He said he did drink at the meeting and that the women were present, he wouldn’t lie, but it was for charities and his future career, not just partying. He clearly thinks drinking with girls is much worse than sneakily making business plans for solo career.

He said several times that he loved NEWS and the members very much (one time saying they’re practically family) and expressed his gratitude towards the members and the company. He said he watched the announcement message with a heavy heart and felt sorry for them. He added he would express his feelings to them once they met. One apt comment read “Or you can do that now. They’re probably watching.”

He said he loved NEWS and even watched a concert just before. He also said several times he wears NEWS T-shirts at home. Apparently, he thinks that’s a great indicator.

He said he has talked to Koyama over LINE and got his support, which suggests he didn’t talk to others.  

When asked what was so important that he just had to leave, he was quite vague. He kept talking about his “otoko no yume” and his “vision”, whatever the fuck that means. He said it takes too long to do something within the agency. He mentioned things like fanclub events, overseas concerts and festivals. Which makes little sense right now because, you know, the global pandemic. Also social media seemed very important.

He was also vague about his further plans. He said it was true he would do something on Youtube, but he’s not planning to be a “youtuber”.

When told many fans were upset with him, he said that can’t be helped and that he would probably be too in their position. Missing the point completely. 

As a side note, I couldn’t help but notice how much he looked like Hyde. Not the looks but the facial expressions. I noticed it before at some performances but never when he talked. 

I didn’t elaborate on the main story of how and when and why because previous reports already wrote about it and it seemed clear to me. I’ll surely write more of my thoughts on this but today I wanted to give you some extra information to fill the gaps for those who wanted to hear his version of the story before decided how to respond. I personally feel a relief as now I at least know enough to solidify my opinion, not just based on rumours.

[hearttstopper]

“i have a lot of thoughts about this too especially with the whole watermelon sugar/nameless thing” pls miss britt share ur thoughts id love to hear them

This got so long. I’m really sorry. My thoughts about HS2/In Watermelon Sugar/a bunch of other random stuff under the cut.

These are all thoughts that are only vaguely connected, and stuff that I’m sure has been said a hundred times before mixed with a ton of my own personal conjecture, so please bear that in mind… This is just like total rambling from me. 

But I have been fascinated with Harry’s connections to In Watermelon Sugar since we first heard the stupid rumors about the song. Especially the quote from the book about the narrator’s name. That quote got me thinking about how when it comes to Harry, tons of people only see what they want to see based on whatever ‘version’ of Harry is most appealing to them.

Read these quotes from the book with that in mind:

My Name

“I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on you. Just call me whatever is in your mind.

If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was raining very hard.

That is my name.

Or somebody wanted you to do something. You did it. Then they told you what you did was wrong—“Sorry for the mistake,”—and you had to do something else.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was a game you played when you were a child or something that came idly into your mind when you were old and sitting in a chair near the window.

That is my name.

Or you walked someplace. There were flowers all around.

That is my name.

Perhaps you stared into a river. There was something near you who loved you. They were about to touch you. You could feel this before it happened. Then it happened.

That is my name.”

and:

“My Name. I do not have a regular name. I am a mystery to you. I wished Margaret would leave me alone…”

— Richard Brautigan, In Watermelon Sugar

The narrator of In Watermelon Sugar isn’t just a nameless figure, he actually invites the reader to give him whatever name they find most fitting for him. A positive connotation, a negative one, a nonsensical one… whatever you, the reader, decides. And that feels like a very apt description of Harry and the various ways fans have perceived him from the very beginning… by now, so many people have projected so many different images onto Harry that over time it has completely blurred all lines as to who Harry actually is. 

Here’s a review I found of the book that summarizes the world within In Watermelon Sugar better than I can (as well as somehow still aligning perfectly with the concept of struggling with fame and identity, etc): “Much of the sense of disparity in [in Watermelon Sugar] results from the incongruity inherent in the person of the narrator, who insists that everything in iDEATH is exactly as it should be—the people gentle, pleasant, and tolerant. Despite the narrator’s insistence that iDEATH is a stable Utopia, however, many of the things that happen are fraught with pain and violence. Balancing the easygoing and vegetarian people with their light chores and flower-filled parades are the man-eating tigers, the burning of the mutilated corpses of inBOIL and his gang, Margaret’s suicide, and the emptiness felt by the narrator but never named.” 

So essentially within In Watermelon Sugar, we’re shown that in the surrealist, post-apocalyptic setting of iDeath, things are only perfect on a surface level. Everyone in this world appears to be happy (or at least, they should be), but a closer look reveals the true nature of iDeath: it’s beyond grim. And so despite the happy, shiny surface, being a part of that happy, peaceful commune is unable to cure the narrator of the inexplicable emptiness he feels inside of him. (‘All the lights couldn’t put out the dark running through my heart.’ ‘Having sex and being sad.’)

The sadness that Harry has already admitted is very prevalent in HS2 has already been implied to be about a ‘breakup,’ but it’s clear to me that Lights Up is anything but a breakup song… (“[Lights Up is about] freedom, self-reflection, self-discovery, things that I had thought about and wrestled with…” + “For me, it’s a very uplifting song. In some places, it’s kind of dark, but to me, it’s like, very liberating. I think, you know, over the past couple of years… It’s about self-reflection, and freedom. It feels very free to me, which is I guess things that I’ve been trying to process… I guess, kinda wrestled with a little over the last couple of years. It’s kinda like, about accepting all of those things.”)

His sadness/whatever emotions and problems he’s been wrestling with have seemingly spanned the course of a few years, and are very personal to him… which is why I feel that releasing Lights Up as the first single sets the tone for the rest of his album centering around his own identity. The line “Lights up and they know who you are, know who you are… Do you know who you are?” poses the question - who is Harry? - and then, “Shine! Step into the light… Shine! So bright sometimes. Shine! I’m not ever going back.” shows us Harry having the strength and bravery to overcome his fears (stepping into the light, although it’s ‘so bright sometimes’ - overwhelming) and reclaim/express his own misunderstood identity.

A lot of people have been trying to tie the In Watermelon Sugar thing back to someone else, but at this point I completely disagree. Not only have we seen him make literary references in the past (the Charles Bukowski reference in Woman), but… given everything that he’s said about Lights Up so far – which was surprisingly a lot – I think that Harry genuinely just took a lot of inspiration from the book because it seemed to hit close to home with his own feelings about self-acceptance and living an authentic life within the public eye. 

I think a lot about the scene we’ve yet to see from the directors cut - a room full of many different iterations of Harry.

“My name depends on you… Just call me whatever is in your mind.” 

Which leads me back to more total conjecture on my end, but I think that when Harry initially set out on tour / kicked off his solo career, he seemed determined to continue performing within the safety of the walls that had been built around him, so to speak. In one of the interviews he did earlier, he talked about tackling his first album from the perspective of ‘bowling with the bumpers up’ - he wanted to play it safe. He didn’t want to veer too far out of his own comfort zone and fuck it all up… and in doing so, he seemed to hold himself back quite a lot. “I wanted to see if people would enjoy an album without knowing everything about me.” 

I think that heading into writing with that mindset explains songs like ‘Complicated Freak’ and ‘Medicine’ being scrapped and excluded from being released on HS1. In retrospect, all of his tour - and especially Medicine - seem a lot like Harry dipping his toes in the water. Being totally presumptuous again, but I find it likely that Harry has had it ingrained in his mind for a long time that he needs to fit certain molds and keep certain narratives alive in order to continue to be successful. And I imagine that this idea is not his own, but instead something that has been hammered into his head over and over from a young age. And I would guess that a lot of anxiety and doubt has stemmed from that - go back and watch that shaky first performance of Medicine and tell me what you think he was likely feeling in that moment. But again, it circles right back to the strength and bravery of doing what he knows needs to be done to expel all of the darkness inside of him - stepping into the light. (“Never going back now / Be so sweet if things just stayed the same.” It’d be so sweet if he could live in that fantasyland forever.)

Anyway. I really don’t think Harry was at all prepared for just how many people would show up to support him in that sense… but his own community just rolled up in droves, bringing a total outpouring of love for him every single night. He had entire arenas lit up in rainbows, people bringing hilarious and heartfelt signs, flags after flags after flags after flags… all in celebration of him and the feelings of safety, strength, and bravery that he has continuously imparted back onto his fans. It was such a queer lovefest that even other artists likened his tour to “pride parades every night.” That’s so unbelievably powerful? I can’t think of any other artist who’s crowds do that for them… not even gay icons like Elton John? I still maintain that one of the most incredible things to have come out of HSLOT was the safe spaces he + his fans created for one another. It meant a lot to us, and it clearly meant a lot to him:

“The tour, that affected me deeply. It really changed me emotionally. Having people come to sing the songs… For me, the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think. I kept thinking, “Oh, wow. They really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.” That’s the thing I’m most thankful for, of touring. I feel like the fans in the room — it’s this environment where people come to feel like they can be themselves. There’s nothing that makes me feel more myself than to be in this whole room of people. It made me realize people want to see me experiment and have fun. Nobody wants to see you fake it.” 

I think that going on tour, and seeing the reaction and the acceptance of his audience, definitely made him want to take the bumpers down… to ‘be out and do it’ because ‘nobody wants to see him fake it.’ It seemed to help him massively in terms of his own ‘self acceptance and the things he’s been wrestling with’ and to make an incredibly, incredibly long winded answer short, it’s why I STILL do not think that releasing Lights Up on National Coming Out Day was in any way incidental. I think that was a big part of what Harry meant when he said that no one wanted to see him ‘faking’ things.

And… that’s basically it, I think, for now. I’ve just been sitting here nodding along at everything he’s been showing us the last few weeks… Impressed by the direction that he seems to be heading. And taking notes. I’ll go ahead and shut up now because I KNOW it’s still too early to draw definite conclusions on his intent for this new ‘era’ (and this new song could be about choking on literal fucking watermelon seeds for all I know, nothing Harry does ever makes any kind of sense does it), but I can’t help but come to my own conclusions based on what I feel he is sharing with us.