#its got lined paper which ironically makes me feel better about using it for shitty sketches

[penisbilt]

should i bring my demon tail into the forest with me

[ptergwen]

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

-

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money. 

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

-

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

-

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

-

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. ���y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 3.16k

Summary: Everyone in your life knows how much of a hopeless romantic you are. You’re constantly diving into things headfirst, and expecting a fairy tale ending. You tend to laugh off any remarks your friends make, take them in stride, as it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. But this time it feels different.

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, mention of shitty past relationships, allusion to PTSD 

A/N: Again, it’s kind of based on some personal stuff. Getting back into writing is easiest when its based on self experience for me. I have the rest of this mostly written out, so let me know if you like it!

part one || part two || part three

New York winter has brought with it snow, accompanied by a brisk wind that harasses anyone caught outside. Lucky for you, you’re inside and warm in the shelter of your favorite cafè with a good friend and hot coffee.

“He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me since first semester,” you gush, “he said whenever he sees the film I did my midterm on in class, he thinks about me.” 

You’re practically swooning, your vanilla latte in one hand, and an earl grey tea in the other. Zendaya, reaches for the cinnamon among the array of wooden sticks and sweeteners as you continue your story.

“Yeah, I’m sure the guy has watched Love Jones so much the past four months,” she comments, smile on her face as she takes a taste-sip of her coffee. Satisfied, she begins walking with you to the usual table. It’s tucked in the corner with a view of both the wooden-framed windows and the small stage where a guitarist plays softly. 

You continue speaking as though you didn’t hear her smart remark, “I mean he’s got an accent, and he’s really cute too, Z. I didn't even present the analysis that well, you know I had work and that huge paper for music theory class due,” you babble, and she just sips her coffee and listens.

The bell atop the cafe door chimes and the cold breeze from outside manages to reach you in the corner. Your eyes flicker up to Tom as he begins walking over, shaking the snow out of his hair, his curls slightly damp and his cheeks pink.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asks, shrugging off his jacket and sliding into the seat beside you.

He smiles at you as he grabs the tea you’ve ordered for him, a silent thank you despite the fact that you do it for him every time you arrive before him. 

“I was just telling Daya about the guy from our film history class last semester,” you grin, “you remember him?”

How could he forget? You gushed over him then too, and the bastard was bold enough to make advances towards you during class discussions. Not to mention the times when he would stop the two of you on your way out of class to flirt, while Tom would have to wait for you and watch it all unfold.

You and Tom have known each other since day one of university, when you complimented him on the Spider-Man pin on his backpack. It was the pin his baby brother Paddy had given to him before Tom left to attend university in the states, and your complimenting of it instantly made him warm towards you. He’s been friends with you since he held the elevator for you, the same day you both realized you’re neighbors at the same apartment complex. He’s been your best friend since the day you stayed up all night with him after having only known him a month. He was stupid enough to put off writing an important paper for his literature class until last minute and you still stayed up with him all the same. You brewed coffee and kept him company, making him laugh all night long all while encouraging and motivating him. 

And he didn’t realize at the time but he’s been in love with you since he called you at 11 PM, heartbroken, and despite the fact that you went to sleep hours ago and had work early the next morning, you didn’t let him wait past the second ring before answering. You were up and knocking at his door moments later, still in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, half awake. You met his bloodshot eyes and hugged him tightly, there to be whatever he needed at that moment. You let him ramble and cry into your shoulder while you stroked his hair. You watched over him while he drank to numb the pain, and you were there to rub his back the next morning for the aftermath. He knows he isn’t exactly special, you’d do this for anyone you care for and somehow it makes him love you more.

When he did realize his feelings, he didn’t make a move, as you were in a toxic on-again, off-again relationship, and you didn’t need anything else on top of what you were going through. The love from the way you valued him as your closest friend was enough for him. It’s possible he would have outgrown the crush, but after one night, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

Tom is pulled out of his thoughts and reminiscing when Zendaya asks, “When’s the date with prince charming then?”

“It’s this weekend,” you mumble, looking past her to avoid her eyes.

“This weekend? Y/N, you said you’d come to Laura’s party with us,” her tone is criticizing because she’s fine listening to your interactions turned romantic narratives, but abandoning plans you’ve already made with your friends is where she draws the line. 

You avoid her eyes, looking down at your cup and then out the window at passersby on the street. You don’t want to be a bad friend, really, but it’s one night and you’ve been looking forward to the date since he asked you last week. And you really don’t like parties anyways. You don’t make a habit out of canceling plans, you truly try to be as reliable as possible, there whenever your friends need you. Your only fault is that finding love is almost as high on your list of priorities as your friends.

“I know but I’ll come to the next one. She’s always throwing parties and what difference does it make to miss one? I don’t even like parties either, I wouldn’t really be fun to have around anyways,” you try to reason your way out of the guilt.

“Yeah. Sure. Let's just talk about something else, okay?” She huffs, not wanting to argue and knowing you won’t cancel on prince charming. 

“Okay… Tom when are you going to ask out Perrie from downstairs? I think the whole complex is getting second-hand embarrassment from the poor girl’s obvious and multiple advances,” you grin, because anything to do with romance is welcomed by you. It doesn’t just have to be your love life.

He already feels sick because while Perrie is a lovely girl, she’s not you and no one else is either. Answering the question why he won’t ask out the pretty, single, and clearly interested girl is something he barely admits to himself. But lucky for him Zendaya is who she is in that she always seems to know what to do. Though she’s never had it officially confirmed, she knows on some level about you two. She’s your roommate and the three of you are all close and in the same friend group, and honestly, how could anyone miss the way you look at each other? More often than not, she gets back from work and finds you two asleep on the couch, scrunched up together under one blanket. If she comes home, and you’re not in your room all she has to do is walk across the hall and you’ll likely be at Tom’s. But again, Zendaya is who she is, and so she allows you two to define what you have the way you want. But she sees the color drained from Tom’s face, and for his sake, she changes the subject.

“Or... we could talk about the fact that I got offered my first modeling job!” she exclaims, effectively taking the heat off of Tom.

Your supportive friend nature kicks into overdrive, Perrie from downstairs long forgotten, as you gush over how much your friend and roommate deserves this and so much more. Tom gives Zendaya a half-hearted smile, which she returns before chatting with you about the details.

—

“I really do think he could be the one,” you smile back in the mirror, while Tom searches through your display of Spider-Man comics. 

You’ve been best friends for so long and you live across the hall so it’s only natural that Tom comes to keep you company when you get ready for your dates. No matter how often he's there, or what feelings he has, he wouldn’t ever turn down an opportunity to spend time with you. 

He grabs your favorite issue, the front page worn as a result of how often you read it. You could cover them in slips and store them on a dusty shelf, preserving their value. But you’re a firm believer of loving what you have, not shielding it away to protect it, and maybe that applies to more than just comics. He drops onto your bed unceremoniously, looking up to meet your eyes in the mirror. You finish curling the last section of hair that frames your face, unplugging the iron afterwards.

��I don’t think you can really call him the one, if he’s the tenth you’ve called that so far this year,” he replies light and jokingly, despite the insensitive words he’s spoken. He’s the only one who’s never poked fun at your dating habits, but maybe it’s just the mention of the prince charming from film history.

Although he may be joking, he’s right. You glance down at your vanity, a mess of makeup and hair products showing just how much effort you’ve put in the last forty-five minutes. No matter how many first dates you go on you’re always saying things like this. Most everyone in your life makes remarks like this and usually you would let it slide and laugh or brush it off. But it’s Tom, who knows better than anyone the heartache you’ve experienced and how even though you refuse to admit it, it’s a coping mechanism. You’d like to think your past doesn’t define you and so you tell yourself you’re in love and hopeful, but the trust issues and self sabotaging comes shortly after. Tom should know that, having seen the relationship that was responsible for the cycle and the beginning, quick middle and eventual end of every relationship since. 

So you’re immediately defensive at the fact that your best friend would make some comment like this. He lifts his head up at you, as you spin around to face him.

“And why can’t I?” You ask and Tom opens his mouth to reply but you’re continuing and challenge him further, “What’s so wrong with being a hopeless romantic, with feeling things deeply?” You question, not waiting for a response as you continue.

“There’s not one person in my life who hasn’t said shit like this to me! Out of all people I thought you would understand,” you raise your voice, hurt evident in your tone. 

“You know how hard it was for me. I’m just doing my best to hold myself together, and I’m an adult, if this is how I decide to cope, I’m allowed to!” You’re shouting now, standing and pacing around your room in frustration.

“I’m just hoping there’s someone out there who is willing to love me kindly and fully, and I think I’m perfectly justified holding out for that,” your voice softens, your back is facing him, posture slumped as you huff, overwhelmed with emotion. 

Your frustration is tangible in the air and Tom blinks, placing down the comic book before scooting to the edge of the bed towards you. You tend to laugh off remarks, take them in stride, and it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. 

He feels unbelievably guilty, he never would’ve said something if he was aware you felt even one one-thousandth as upset as you’d just displayed. He had been there for the awful relationship that had you sick with heartache. He’d been the one Zendaya would come to when you’d refuse to leave your room for anything but classes, if even that. He just feels idiotic for not connecting the dots, he just thought you were strong for having such an open heart after everything. You’re always compassionate and supportive others and you’ve definitely helped him through his fair share of heartbreak, and wow he feels like a dick. Whether it’s orchestrated by heartache or not, he admires that you’re willing to keep trying despite everything. He only wishes he was brave enough to bare his like you always have.

“Hey,” Tom speaks softly, reaching for your hand and slowly turning you around to face him, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I never realized this is how you felt,” He mutters, tone gentle, coaxing you to turn to him.

Tears have managed to well up in your eyes and if he didn’t feel like a huge jerk before, he absolutely does now. But it’s really not about him, it’s about his best friend who he’s unintentionally made feel invalid in her feelings. You’ve never once asked him to justify how he’s feeling, or poked fun at him for his emotions. Well, except... maybe when he broke his pinky finger in a fit of anger, after having punched the face wall when his team lost the European championship (though you did apologize for it and you grabbed him ice right after). 

“It’s, erm, it’s fine, it’s stupid anyways,” you mumble back, voice unsteady as you try to blot your tears away with your sleeve in an attempt to prevent your makeup smearing. You’re just overwhelmed and it all bubbled over. Tom has never said anything like that before and it was dramatic to blow up at him like that, you think. 

“It’s not, N/N, and you know that. You’re crying and I know you hate crying and so I can tell you’re upset. Even if you don’t want to admit it, I’m still sorry,” He apologizes, rising to stand with your hand still in his. He pulls you into a hug, resting his cheek atop your head. 

“Thanks,” you murmur into his shoulder. It’s not completely his fault, because you really hadn’t voiced any sort of animosity for the jokes made about it. You never really talk about how hurt you are by the past either, not anymore than in passing at least. 

You just stand there for a minute, his hand stroking your hair absentmindedly, and he’s messing up your curls but it’s comforting because it’s Tom. Thinking to ask him to stop isn’t even on your mind. 

He’s thought about it before, but now more than ever he just selfishly wishes he was there before your ex, to see you unguarded and truly hopeful. Not as a coping mechanism, not as an extreme reaction to hurt, but to love because it’s all you know. Because maybe then things would have played out differently for the two of you.

He’s lost in his thoughts, stroking your hair and his other hand rubbing your back, your ‘getting ready’ playlist ends. Somehow the algorithm has decided to play One by Ed Sheeran, soft, melodic and completely dissimilar from the upbeat tracks playing a moment ago. But Tom couldn’t be more grateful, because if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend you’re at the before, and he had the guts to ask you out on the first day of class. If that was true, when you’re in your room with him now. You’d be aware of how he feels about you, and you’d feel loved in that kind and gentle way you’ve been hoping for, because you’ve never known anything else.

The soft ballad ends and when you glance up at him, the façade he’s formed fades away before his heart has the chance to beg it to stay.

“I don’t really want to go on this date anymore, I probably look a mess and I’m just...not in the mood for not finding ‘the one’ tonight. I’ve got you, and that’s enough for now,” you confess, smiling up at him. 

You say that, because as cheesy as it sounds, friends are a kind of soulmate too, and you’ve already found them. You can always look for ‘the one’ some other time. This revelation would feel sweet to any other friend, but to Tom, it hurts just a bit that to you he’s just a placeholder. 

He manages to crack a half smile at your heartfelt statement, because no matter how he feels, he’s lucky to have you. Even if only as a friend.

“So how about we order a pizza and watch New Girl for the fiftieth time?” You question, oblivious and smiling up at him before pulling away from the hug and wiping at your wet eyes.

Any other time he would stay in with you, happy to watch you laugh to the point where he’s grinning at just your reactions. But he’s gotta be a good friend too, because well, he’s in the same boat as you. Except he’s found the one, and he doesn’t want to leave. Yet he knows the right thing to do is to go to the party he promised Zendaya and Jacob (and previously you) that he would attend. Though he still isn’t happy to admit it to you.

“I was going to go to Laura’s party tonight…” Tom grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck, because he knows you don’t like parties and you’re likely emotionally exhausted on top of that. He’s only going because he’s made a promise, and really— trust him— there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his favorite person.

“Could I maybe go with you?” You ask, because being with friends, even if you don’t like parties is better than sulking at home alone. 

Tom cracks a smile, and it’s easy to fall back into friend-mode with you. Because that’s what comes when it comes to you, before anything else.

“Well, I mean if you clean up I suppose I can just take you with me,” he teases you, “because I cannot show up with you like that.” He jokes and laughs as you shove him. 

This kind of banter is normal and makes your heart feel just a little less heavy in your chest, because Tom always manages to make you feel better.

“Okay, just let me text him and let him know I won’t make it, and then I’ll try and look better for you,” you reply, laughing all while rolling your eyes. 

You’ve got your phone in one hand texting, while your other wipes away at the makeup on your face. You’ve got a focused look on your face, squinting a bit because you don’t have the best eyesight and refuse to wear your glasses on first dates. But you look lovely to Tom, despite the crease between your eyebrows, your slightly opened mouth, and still smeared mascara. 

part two

[sixinsultsago]

i hold it there in my hands

domestic andreil again because i do not quit. post-canon, fluff.

read on ao3

*

Like a snake, my heart has shed its skin. I hold it there in my hand, full of honey and wounds.

*

The trick to loving right Andrew Minyard is, surprisingly enough, expectation.

Andrew has an ego that demands he stay one step ahead of the competition, but that’s for threats. When you’re on the correct side of him, he craves to be anticipated. Andrew makes it embarrassingly easy. After a childhood being overlooked — or worse, noticed for all the wrong reasons — Andrew kind of… crumbles when another person sees him. It’s how Renee secured him as her best friend without a deal. It’s how Matt inducted himself into the Monsters in his senior year.

It’s how Neil is sitting cross-legged on a pretentious marble counter-top, eating crunchy peanut butter from the jar.

Andrew is facing the stove top, his strong back covered by a typical black shirt. Every time he moves Neil can just about taste it. He might as well be shirtless for all the good the useless fabric is doing for his modesty.

Okay. Neil needs to not think about that.

Andrew purposely bangs his spatula against the side of the saucepan, fed-up. “Don’t you have anything better to do?"

The idea of Andrew feeling Neil’s gaze is almost embarrassing, just not enough for Neil to look away. “I don’t have eidetic memory; I need to take the time to memorize you.”

“You did that enough during college.”

“You look different from then,” Neil protests. Andrew is broader, thicker in his arms and stomach and thighs. His hair is longer, the scowl lines around his mouth less pronounced. Neil doesn’t love Andrew any less now than when he regularly pulled knives on their teammates, but he can’t deny a certain fondness for an Andrew who lets himself smile when he texts Bee about Halloween costumes.

Andrew doesn’t deny it. Neil smiles around his spoon. “What are you making?”

“Sandwich.”

“Why are you frying it?”

“Nicer this way.”

He flips the sandwich. Something sizzles. Neil doesn’t think it is oil. The smell is — putrid.

And familiar.

Neil’s stomach turns at the same time he realizes what that smell is. “Fuck. Are you eating that stupid maple syrup and cream cheese toastie garbage?”

Andrew throws him a flat look over his shoulder. “Why do you sound offended. I am not making you eat it.”

The ‘stupid maple syrup and cream cheese toastie garbage’ is a Andrew Minyard special. He puts maple syrup in a pan, brings it to a spitting boil, and fries a cream cheese sandwich in it. The first time he made it, he happened to do so in front of Kevin. Kevin dry-retched so bad he ended up crying. Allison had it on camera.

“Andrew,” Neil starts, incredulous. “There’s no way your nutritionist approved that!”

The blond shrugs. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh my god.”

“Shut up and eat your peanut butter, hypocrite.” He slides the toasted sandwich out of the pan and pulls it apart into skinny, little pieces without waiting for it to cool down. It clearly hurts. Andrew doesn’t stop doing it, because he is as stupid as the people he surrounds himself with.

Neil’s stomach shrivels up and dies when Andrew meets his eyes and takes a pointed bite. He chucks his spoon into the sink and declares: “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Andrew points at him with two fingers, directing him to look at the lounge set-up behind Neil. “That is your problem, Neil. Go into the other room and eat alone if you must.”

“You’re going to have a heart attack.”

“And that would be my problem to deal with. See how this works?”

Andrew eats slowly deliberately these days, mostly to prove he doesn’t have to choke down whatever is put in front of him before it’s taken away. Neil resents the practice for the first time in months. “We’re going grocery shopping when you get back from practice tomorrow,” Neil decides. “You know, I don’t want to be eating peanut butter out of the jar, but your cupboards are bare. How do you live like this?”

Andrew freezes mid-chew. His eyes narrow subtly. To anyone else it would be a warning. Neil recognizes the expression as exasperated.

“Neil,” Andrew starts.

Oh no, thinks Neil.

“You were arrested last month because an officer thought you were homeless and sleeping on a park bench. However bad you think I am, I can guarantee you are exceedingly worse.”

That had happened. Neil was tired after his run, saw a park bench, and decided to rest his eyes. The next time he woke up, a concerned mother was watching him, clinging to her child, hiding behind a police officer who genuinely did try to arrest Neil. Ironically, it was a first for Neil, who’s been homeless plenty of times before and got away with it, but actually wasn’t the one time he was caught.

“At least I have food in my fridge.”

“Take-away,”

“I have other things.”

“An unnecessary amount of fruit.”

“I eat it,” says Neil defensively. Andrew looks at him like Neil admitted to murder. Except not at all, because if that were the case he’d be marginally more turned on. “We’re going, Andrew. It'll be good for us, and I'm not eating peanut butter for the rest of my vacation. Abby would drive over specifically to kick your ass.”

“Ha-ha,” Andrew replies, emotionless. “What would I do with groceries.”

“Cook them. I think.”

“You think.”

“Shut up. This isn’t a discussion. Wal-Mart, tomorrow, get excited about it.”

Andrew, finished with his unholy meal, sets his empty plate in the sink and slinks forward. He puts his hands on Neil’s thighs and lightly traces them down until they catch in the crease of his knees. One quick tug unfolds Neil’s legs, allowing Andrew to slide in close. Andrew tips his head back. His nose barely brushes Neil’s chin.

Neil bites on his bottom lip to smother his smile. 

Here’s the thing. Andrew looks very comfortable having Neil an extra couple inches above him; it’s amusing because he frankly cannot be as happy about the new height difference as he’s pretending. 

He’s angling for something. Neil doesn’t care what: he’ll play along if it keeps Andrew right where he is.

It is nice having the bed to himself, sure, but Neil notices Andrew’s absence like a missing limb. It aches all the time. He gets phantom pains everywhere. He turns around at practice to meet eyes that are not there; twists around in bed searching for his warmth; at one point Neil bought a pint of ice cream just to fill the empty space in their freezer. Nicky assures him it will ease, that sometimes he will forget he needs Andrew around constantly. It hasn’t happened yet, that brief stretch of time when Neil doesn't miss him. Neil’s nervous for when it will hit. If it ever does. Even if it didn't seem unfair to Andrew not to want him twenty-four seven, Neil just isn't sure he is capable of being completely happy with this distance between them.

Like Andrew can hear his thoughts, he tips forward and presses his mouth to Neil’s neck. Resting there. Staying close. His lips barely move when he says, “Your heart is racing.”

Neil closes his eyes. He catches Andrew’s wandering hands and tangles their fingers together. He can’t imagine letting go for anything.

“Andrew,”

“Mm?”

“Andrew. Look at me?”

With a begrudging sigh, Andrew pulls back. He freezes when Neil catches his face and smacks a sloppy kiss to his nose. Neil feels Andrew’s cheeks start burning hotter, experiences his own heart swell twice its usual size.

Andrew’s eyes go wide and exceptionally golden when he’s happy.

Neil does it again and again and again. He kisses Andrew’s chin, cheekbones, both eyelids, along his jawline. He punctuates his journey with a final press to Andrew’s forehead, drawing back with a grin so wide it hurts old scars. Andrew huffs impatiently, pushing up onto the tip of his toes. Neil allows their noses brush, then leans away.

“I’m not kissing you properly, not when you just ate that shitty toasted sandwich.”

Andrew stares at him. He covers Neil’s hands, gently framing his neck, with his own. He guides them down to lay flat on the counter. They stay there.

“I am not going to Wal-Mart.”

“Okay. Walgreens?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

Andrew glares. Instead of repeating himself, he says, “I’m going to call Nicky.”

Even though Nicky would be thrilled, Neil feels obliged to step in. “He’s going to notice you’re all…” Neil doesn’t know how to say ‘spoiling for a blow job’ without triggering Andrew’s pettiness and getting himself quarantined to his own side of the bed. At a loss for words, he gestures at Andrew expressively, which seems to communicate his point. Andrew pinches his thigh, unimpressed. “What?”

“You are not nearly as cute as you think you are.”

“Pretty sure I’m as cute as you think I am.”

Andrew looks prepared to walk out of the apartment altogether. “One day, you’ll learn to stop talking,” He says wistfully. Two fingers press down on Neil’s lips on the edge of too rough. Andrew strides into his bedroom, the door hanging open behind him. Neil hears the tingy sound of a Skype call ringing out, followed by the pop of an answered call.

Seconds later, Renee’s warm voice is saying, “Oh! Hello, Andrew. This is a surprise. Is Neil there?”

Andrew doesn’t answer. Renee explains without being asked: “You get a certain look on your face when—”

“This was a mistake,” says Andrew. Neil guesses the only thing that keeps him from hanging up is Renee’s sudden cresting laughter. She continues unhindered, “No, no, I was just kidding. It really is nice to see you! Neil? Neil, are you there?”

“Hi, Renee.”

She somehow hears him, calling back, “Hello! It must be nice for you to two to be together again. Well, what are you doing, Andrew? How is your practice going?”

Andrew proceeds to talk to her in a near whisper. Neil lets his rising and falling murmur slow his heart rate down. Once the giddiness leaves his head, Neil finds his feet again. He cleans up the kitchen so Andrew won’t need to do it later, then starts his hunt for a scrap of paper and pen.

It was time to draft his first ever shopping list.

[jimlingss]

Brass & Strings [10]

Episode 9 - Episode 10 - Episode 10.5 OR Episode 11 Words: 5.2k Genre: Fluff, Humour (?), Slice of Life, Music!Au, College!Au Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to the mean girl after high school? Where do they go, where do they end up? More importantly, what happens when they get mixed up with the classic nerd that's always too nervous to answer 'no'? Things become a lot more complicated when Kim Namjoon encounters you. They dub you as 'bat-shit insane' and you're not ashamed.

Cr.

Taehyung runs up to the pair, startling Jimin who has no idea who he is. “Namjoon! Namjoon!”

The harpist takes the saxophonist’s hands. “Are you okay?”

“No!” He sobs out, “the euphoniums really left! They’re refusing to play at the competition until they get better treatment but the conductor isn’t budging. I don’t know what to do! It’s in three weeks!”

Jimin stares back between the musicians, a little amused by the situation that’s growing at hand. “I’m Jimin.” He shakes the delirious boy’s hand. “Namjoon’s roommate.”

Taehyung wipes his tears. “I’m Taehyung, I-I play saxophone. Or at least I used to! At this rate it’s all going to fall apart!” Jimin makes an ‘o’ shape with his lips and slowly nods. “The scholarships! The opportunities! If we can’t play...it’s all gone! What do I do, Namjoon?”

The boy in question doesn’t say anything in spite of Taehyung’s cracking voice. Jimin turns his head and waves his hand in front of Namjoon’s blank face. “Uh….hello?”

Jimin and Taehyung follow his line of sight, across the courtyard...darted onto you.

A light bulb sparks inside his brain. “I have an idea of what to do.” Namjoon runs off, leaving the two university students in the dust to watch his backside disappear with yours.

“Isn’t that Namjoon’s girlfriend?”

The saxophonists become startled. “What? Y/N? No way. She’s super scary. Oh god….I hope he’s not doing what I think he’s doing. There’s no way in hell Y/N would agree.”

Jimin hums. “Whelp. Good luck.”

Taehyung tearfully whimpers in response.

//

You laugh. You laugh and laugh until it hurts your stomach, squeezing onto your internal organs. Saltwater droplets have filled your eyes and you brush them away, standing straight again after having bended over in hysterics. “That’s a really funny joke, Nams. You got me. Nice one.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Your face erases. Like a light switch, the emotions wash away and is replaced with complete seriousness and disdain.

“No.”

He matches your quick steps, trying to plead with you. “Why not? This would be a great opportunity and it would be a lot of fun. Aren’t you always looking for more chances to play? You told me yourself that tuba doesn’t get the spotlight but this is it!”

Your feet stop at your tiny locker and you grab your textbooks, snickering under your breath. “You must not understand something since you’re new here…” The locker door slams louder than necessary and you spin on your heel, poking your fingernail at his chest. “Orchestra kids and band kids,” you enunciate each title sharply, “don’t go together. Never have and never will. It’s like oil and water. Fire and ice or whatever shitty metaphor you want to use.”

In the institute you attended, there was the university orchestra, the symphonic band, the university chorus and chamber choir. Of all the groups, the orchestra and band were sworn mortal enemies in the same way the chorus and choir were rivals. If you had to use a comparison, it was much like Gryffindor versus Slytherin and Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff.

In simpler terms, the symphonic band could suck your invisible dic-

“Why does it matter?” The boy sighs, trying to comprehend you as he picks up his strides to equal yours.

“It’s simple. The orchestra is better than the band. Playing with them would downgrade my own skills.”

“They’re not that bad, Y/N.” Namjoon stares at the profile of your face, attempting to penetrate through the concrete facade.

“They march.”

“Not always. They’re sitting for this competition.”

“They play things like pop music and jazz which is terrible. Jazz is interpretation. Essentially, they’re making up shit on the spot and no one even listens to that kind of outdated music anymore. It’s bland and boring. Don’t even get me started on mainstream pop.”

“You just opened up a whole new can of worms.” He smiles and shakes his head, “they say the same thing about classical being outdated when you know it’s not true. And for this event, they’ll be playing plenty of classical pieces too. Isn’t it good to become versatile in the types of style and genres you can play in, Y/N?”

“They’re noisy and loud.”

“You and I both know that that is just a stereotype.”

As you begin stomping up the stairs, you know you’re running out of things to argue. Namjoon keeps retorting back and it seems like he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Look.” You twist around on the last step, almost causing him to bump into you and tumble down the steps. You’re looking down at the boy, the fluorescent light hitting your backside and making you glow like an angel (ironically enough). “I’m treading on very thin ice as it is. I screamed at the concertmistress in front of all our peers. If they find out I’m playing with the band, even if it’s just for one occasion, it’ll be a complete fucking witch hunt.”

The dimpled man in his bright yellow hoodie smiles up at you, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “I’ll protect you.”

You pause, breath hitching. Then a scoff leaves your mouth and you flick his forehead. Namjoon lets out an ‘ow’ and a pout, following as you continue treading up the stairs to the second floor.

When you look at Namjoon, he gives you the saddest and biggest puppy dog eyes in the world. You know it’s already making your heart weak. The innocent boy says nothing, trailing after you and dragging his legs in dejection. After a full minute of utter silence, you let out a groan and a whine.

“Y/N?”

“Fine!”

You have no idea what in hell you’re doing. It kind of amazes you that the harpist is able to convince you of anything. If he told you the sky was really lavender, maybe you'd believe him too.

“Only because it’s you. You helped me out with all that science stuff and I feel guilty, got it? So stop looking at me like that-!” A yelp leaves your mouth as Namjoon suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up in the air and swinging you around in a circle. “Nams!”

He sets you down and his grin is infectious. “Thank you.”

//

It’s a bad idea. A very bad idea. If anyone sees you, they’d without a doubt make a huge scene.

“They don’t bite.” Namjoon teases and you glare at him sharply, ready to knock on the door but fist still hovering in the air. “Don’t worry. I’m going to be at the back of the room working on your science paper. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s no turning back. This could become the worst mistake of your life. You might get scratched, kicked or your instrument might become dented if they decide to attack you.

Dammit. You should’ve brought pepper spray or something.

You look towards Namjoon, your only companion and somehow it’s enough to muster up the courage to finally knock on the door.

It swings open.

“Namjoon! Y/N!” A massive boxy grin greets you and the harpist acknowledges him back. “Come in, come in!”

You’re dragged into the small practice room packed with kids your age. Rather than the seventy students that you typically rehearse with, there are only forty people, tightly knitted together. There’s an astounding number of clarinetists and flutists, holding their instruments and staring at you. The saxophone players that you’ve never encountered before have stopped mid-step and their own brass instruments are slung around their necks like Taehyung’s. There aren’t any violin players or strings for that matter.

No one moves.

For one skipped heartbeat, you’re afraid of being attacked. But you feel relieved that Namjoon’s with you. The clumsy harpist seems like he could body slam a few folks and give you enough time to make your escape.

“This is Y/N!” Taehyung introduces you to his apprehensive classmates. They look at you like you’re a foreign, wild animal that’s wandered its way into the room. “Y/N plays tuba and she’s here to help us, everyone! Don’t be afraid!”

Some of them exchange glances and others swallow hard but everyone continues nonetheless, warming up and preparing for practice. Namjoon smiles, settling himself down in the back of the room. Taehyung brings you over to become acquainted with the others, despite your protests that you don’t care nor want to meet new people.

“Kelly! Y/N, this is Kelly. She plays baritone sax.” The girl in the sweater nods to you with tight lips and you mimic the gesture awkwardly. You can tell Taehyung’s trying his best to make you comfortable and you can appreciate his efforts. “Oh! In case you didn’t know, I play the tenor saxophone which is like the medium size. The alto sax is the smallest-”

“Yes.” You quietly interject. In the university orchestra, there aren’t any saxophone players but you at least know what the instrument is. “I’m aware.”

“Good. And Kelly, this is Y/N. She plays the-”

“You just announced it to everyone, Tae.” Kelly rolls her eyes and laughs lightly. “Plays the tuba. Hi, nice to meet you.” You shake her hand and it’s only then that you realize how many people are eavesdropping in on the conversation. They’re supposed to be warming up for the session but not one note is in the air. “You’re part of the orchestra here at school?”

“Yes. I’m the solo tubist.”

“Cool. You agreed to help us?”

You hum, “Taehyung’s a friend of an important friend so….I don’t mind.”

“Cool.” She coughs tensely, realizing how she’s overusing the same word out of nervousness. “I mean that’s...awesome. I never thought you orchestral people would want to help us. Sinceyouguysalwaysactlikeyou’rebetterthanus.” The girl says the last part in a rush and laughs it off but you catch every single word.

Taehyung intercepts before something can happen. “Why won’t you meet Hana? She plays flute!”

You resist contorting your face after hearing that particular instrument which reminds you of someone unpleasant. But when the petite girl turns around, her kind face surprisingly wipes away any bad, personal connotations. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

She speaks placidly, “you’re going to be playing for the euphoniums?”

“The tuba and euphonium aren’t the same but they’re fairly similar.”

Taehyung grins and he pulls out some paper from his folder that’s sandwiched in his armpit. “I’ve already got the sheet music for it. You think you’ll be okay?”

You take it from him, giving it a quick glance to see if you’ll be able to sight-read. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Let’s get started then!”

The mischievous and playful boy introduces you to a few more people until your brain throbs with the amount of names. He finally lets you go and while you’re preparing, out of the corner of your eye, you can catch a handful marvelling at the shiny brass in your lap.

In a way, there’s not many differences between the orchestra and band. The trombonists beside you don’t speak a word and are on constant edge. Most of the people around fear you and you’re isolated at the back of the room. The only true comfort you feel is Kim Namjoon. The boy in glasses holds his calculator, scribbling onto his notebook in his lap. Each and every time you look back, he always grins and shoots you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Idiot.”

The mutter leaves your lips and he looks at you in confusion, unable to hear. He makes a motion for you to repeat yourself. You shake your head with a tiny smile, “nevermind.”

You begin to play with the group to the best of your abilities, reading the notes and interpreting the score as it comes. You’re startled at how fun it is. It’s spontaneous. You don’t have to fret over every single detail and flaw. The music also has modern twists, unlike the ancient classical that you’re used to. At first, your ears catch a few murmurs, suspicions that you’re here to sabotage them but when they realize that you’re legitimately trying, the pressure alleviates from the room.

It also helps that the symphonic band students are quite kind. They’re nice people when the orchestral kids aren’t being condescending towards them. They give you a round of applause after a solo, impressed with your abilities and techniques considering that you’re looking at this music for the first time. In between pieces, some turn around to chat with you and they even joke around freely with each other.

It’s a nice atmosphere, not serious or full of strain. It’s a stark contrast to the orchestra. The band conductor is friendly as well, cracking jokes and bantering with his students.

You feel like you’ve transported into another world.

“How was it? You played really well. It sounded pretty good.”

“It was surprisingly fun.” Your irises flicker to catch a glimpse of the clumsy boy pushing up his spectacles. “They’re good people.”

He smiles proudly, “I told you so.”

“Maybe I should listen to you more often.”

From your teasing tone, he lowers himself to meet your height and to lock your eyes with his while cutely tipping his head to one side. “You should.”

“I only said maybe.” Your stomach growls and in your chipper mood, you lightly bump into him with a giggle. “Wanna go eat some crab?”

The harpist thinks about the science lecture that he really shouldn’t miss. That professor is scary enough and Namjoon suspects that he’s wary of the whole ‘Namjoon-takes-your-classes-for-you’ scheme. But then again….

Would he really want to miss an opportunity to go out and share a meal with you? “Okay. Let’s go!”

//

“Is it true?”

Two weeks have passed and you should be exhausted. In between practicing with the orchestra, you’re off to rehearsals with the band and honing your skills on your own time. You’re playing twice as much as usual, ten hours a day and whenever you’re not resting, you’re out with a suitor or two, trying to make conversation on dates. You should be tried.

Should - because you’re not.

The only reason or rather, person, you can credit that to is Namjoon. He keeps you energized, along every step of the way, by your side whenever you look to your left or right. He waits for you outside your apartment in the mornings, works on the science projects and homework in the back of the practice room. He still keeps up with his own music, studying and plucking the harp’s strings and at night, you meet up again. After shared dinner, you would both take the bus back, occasionally to his apartment to sleepover at.

If your mind were in the gutter, you would think that it’s almost like the two of you are a married couple.

“What are you talking about? I don’t have time nor the patience for your bullshit.”

“You’re playing with the symphonic band.”

Everyone stops and when people ask what’s going on, the words are reiterated in a ripple effect.

“What?”, “What did Rose just say?”, “Did she-”, “YN’s playing for the band?”, “What the hell?”, “She’s really gone crazy.”, “What the actual fuck?”.

“I am.” You stand up amongst your peers and your sharp eyes glare back at them. “So what?”

“What is wrong with you?” The flutist spits out. “We have to compete with them at the regional competition! Don’t you want to go to Nationals? You’re a traitor.”

“Stop being dramatic. I’m helping them for this occasion and it’s not even applicable to you. In fact, I don’t see how my actions matter to any of you!”

The murmuring quiets down and Rose snickers in disbelief. “Why don’t you join them then?”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave.” She twists. “No one wants you here anyways. You’ve done more bad than good anyways. Do you even know the amount of problems you’ve caused us? No one likes your bitchy attitude. We can easily find another…” The girl makes a wild gesture to your bulky brass instrument. “...tuba.”

“You guys!” Jennie stands up, interfering as the concertmistress. “Stop it right this instant. Rose, you’re acting immaturely. What Y/N does outside of this room is none of our business.”

You cross your arms. “She’s right.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever agreed with the first chair violinist. You’d usually spite her, tell her to fuck off and back out of your argument but you finally realized it. This entire time, Jennie has been trying harder than anyone. She’s pissed you off in the past, being a timid goodie two shoes like every annoying heroine character that believes in the good of people. But her goal as the concertmistress has always been to unite the orchestra.

She wants to create a friendly atmosphere like that of the band’s. It’s impossible.

The air here is too suffocating. It’s too serious with the over looming pressure to do well in order to build a career in the music industry for the future. You can understand why Yoongi left.

“Rose. Sit down.” Jennie’s eyes glisten but you recognize the underlying gleam, an appreciative nod that translates to how thankful she is for you taking her side.

“You think you’re all that special?” The flutist ignores her friend, smirks and shoves your shoulder. “No one cares about your instrument.”

You grasp at her oncoming hand before she can slap you. The discomfort of the entire room elevates and a few watch in amusement, others in horror and a handful sneering. “If you think a few insults will make me leave then you’re wrong. I’m going nowhere.”

The girl lets out a screech and Namjoon pulls you back before she can swing.

The gentle hands on the dips of your waist startle you but there’s no change in your expression. Namjoon would never intercept, not when he hated to draw attention and was too timid to be aggressive like you but he’s made a promise to support you.

He was the reason why you were aiding the band anyways.

“Is there something the matter?”

His timbre is low and with the two of you challenging back at her, in addition to the rest of the class. Rose is helpless. No one steps up, not when they’re intimidated by your aura and Namjoon’s height and large build. The pair of you could belong to a gang for all they knew.

“Ugh! You’re a bitch. A traitorous bitch!”

Jennie tugs her back. Namjoon lets you go. You cross your arms again with a smirk.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

//

“You know what? You’re right, Namjoon. I think I’ve judged Y/N falsely.”

“How so?”

Taehyung shrugs, “she really isn’t that bad. If you aren’t mean to her, she isn’t mean to you. I can see why you like her. But I’ll admit Y/N’s still a bit scary.”

“Yeah.” Then Namjoon’s mind reels. “Wait. What? What did you say about me liking her?”

There’s radio silence on the other end of the phone call and the saxophonist quickly switches the subject, rambling about something else.

The harpist replays the same conversation over and over again in his head but he still can’t quite wrap his mind around it. If Taehyung was suggesting that he harbored a crush for you, then his friend is wrong. Sure, Namjoon likes you but not in the romantic aspect. It’s platonic.

You’re overbearing. You’re spoiled. You have to get your way and you always do, either through manipulation or threats. You are the absolute epitome of the mean girls within the movie or the villain in fairytales but those are all surface level things. You’re sensitive, passionate and driven, funny and witty….cute.

It’s platonic. He simply sees you for who you are. There’s nothing more.

Right?

//

This is the best day of his life. Hands down.

As Kim Seokjin hauls the art supplies he stole from school, he is bustling with excitement. However, the poster paper, markers and paints, rolling brushes and crayons are a bit much. He tottles from one side of the sidewalk to the other, apologizing to the people he bumps into, cursing his meager strength and short height.

“Jin?”

The middle schooler peeks his head out and gasps. “Predator!”

“It’s Namjoon!” He protests with a shrill voice, appalled to be even called such a name. “What are you doing?”

“None of your business- Hey!” The kid protests when the much taller man takes his paints and maker packs. It doesn’t occur to him that he can see forward now. “Give it back!”

“Where are you going? I can help you.”

“I-” Jin grumbles, sporting the same yellow backpack on his shoulders. He seems to debate with himself before he concedes the honest truth to Namjoon. “I’m going to the park to make a poster. A sign.”

“For?”

“Y/N.” The short boy grins. “She’s performing this evening, right?”

Namjoon had dropped you off of the venue an hour ago. There were last minute tweaks and preparations to be done. He, on the other hand, had to go submit a biochemistry paper and was planning to go right back - until he bumped into Jin. “How did you know about that?”

Jin is bubbling with pride as he walks alongside Namjoon, proud that he’s in the loop with everyone else. “It’s on your university website!”

“You’re very informative.”

“Of course! It’s Y/N after all and she’s my idol.”

They make it to the park, setting down the items on the picnic table. “Is it okay if I work with you? Two hands are faster than one.”

The middle schooler takes off his backpack and blinks upwards, contemplating for a long second. “Okay. I already have an outline! There are stickers that I got too and only use neon colours! Y/N’s name is going right at the center of the poster.”

Namjoon giggles, sitting down across from the boy and the two of them begin on the artwork masterpiece, surprisingly having an enjoyable time. Jin loosens up and banters back and forth with the harpist, teasing the poor and timid college student.

“Hey, you! Suck-jin.” A horde of taller middle schooler delinquents begins to approach, popping gum in their mouth and kicking rocks on the ground. “What are you doing, dork? Are you doing an elementary kid’s work? They bullied you into it or did the teachers finally hold you back because of your height?”

They childishly laugh together, coming closer and closer. A girl simpers, “where’s your milk?” Another demands for their lunch money and one of the guys grabs onto the sunny backpack.

Jin stops ignoring them and stands up from his spot. “Hey! Give that back!”

The boy holds his arm high in the air. “Try to take it away from me, shortie.”

The bag that is as bright as the sunshine itself is suddenly ripped away from the ruffian’s grasps. He inhales and looks up, the light piercing the looming man’s backside. Namjoon grins, one that mimics the Chester’s cat and is as intimidating as the Grim Reaper himself. “That’s not very nice.”

The children scramble back and Jin grins. Namjoon steps forward. “Don’t you know this kid has an older sister who is really psychotic? If she catches you doing things like this to him, I’m not sure you'll live to tell the tale.”

“Oh my god.” The girl mutters out. “Is he talking about that girl? The one who beat us up?”

They screech at the top of their lungs, dispersing. Namjoon sets down the backpack and Jin sits back on the bench, continuing to scribble away. “Thanks….for that.”

The harpist wonders why they ran so quickly. “No problem.”

“I miss Y/N.” Jin confesses with full sincerity. “I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s not sure why since it’s only been two hours but- “I miss Y/N too.”

//

He’s arranged it very well. In the dark auditorium, Seokjin has reserved the front seat on top of the balcony, dressed in bright pink and a flashing headband. The kid is clearly visible in the entire concert hall. He holds the massive sign with your name and a picture of you in the corner, unsympathetic to how he’s obstructing the view of the people behind him. “Woo! Y/N! LET’S GO!”

Jin chants your name like the true fan he is but the stage is empty and after five minutes, he sits back to reserve energy. “You’re very dedicated.”

“Only to the best.” Jin snaps his fingers and does finger guns. “Because I am the best.”

“Namjoon?” The two of them turn around, met with a different pair in casual clothes. “So, it is you!”

“Jennie! Yoongi!” He smiles and they take their seats next to him.

“I came here to support Y/N.” The concertmistress smooths out her floral skirt. “And of course the band. I think it’s very kind of Y/N to help them out. I heard about the problems they were having.”

“I came with her.” Yoongi coughs and when Jennie side-eyes him, he sighs. “Oh, and to see my dear cousin as well. My very dear, blood relative that loves to ask me for cash and terrorizes my coworkers.”

Jennie seems somewhat satisfied with the answer and leans over, amused with Jin and his colourful attire and poster. “This is…?”

“I’m Y/N’s boyfriend!”

“You are?” She smiles and her brows furrow, pupils redirected to the harpist. “But I thought you were, Namjoon.”

“N-no. I’m not. We’re both here to show our support. Y/N’s not really dating him...or me! She’s dating no one...well...not really...I- uh...He’s Jin, by the way. They met on another occasion.” Namjoon doesn’t know why he’s flustered by the mere thought of dating you.

Dating which means holding hands...hugging...kissing...becoming intimate-

Stop thinking about it! He slaps his cheek to snap out of it and Jennie is taken back. A second later, she laughs to herself.

Yoongi stares at Jin without an expression. “You did a whole poster, kid?”

“I sure did and don’t call me kid! I’m a man.”

“Sure, kid.” Yoongi smiles softly. “Wow. It seems like Y/N has some serious admirers.”

For a plain moment, your cousin’s eyes flicker to Namjoon’s face which is still reddened and steaming. Yoongi smirks.

There’s a bit of a mutual silence as all four listen to the introduction by one of the judges and one rather good band performance. It’s only until they hear a shallow exhale that they all turn to their left by the staircase. “Jin?!”

“Hoseok!” He giggles nervously. “What a coincidence!”

The trumpet player marches, unfazed by the staring eyes of the people around. “Are you skipping class?”

The middle-schooler struggles to find an answer and copies the one that Namjoon and Jennie said earlier. “I came to show my support for you!”

“That’s a poster with Y/N’s name.”

“I can explain.”

Hoseok exhales again but dramatically this time, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t try to. And you again? Namjoon?”

“It’s not his fault.” Jin rushes to defend and his older brother answers with ‘yeah, yeah, I know’. Namjoon is too timid and kind to be the type to corrupt Jin, drag him into a cult or kidnap him. At least Hoseok feels comforted that his younger brother isn’t running around with total strangers.

Namjoon smiles as the trumpet player collapses into the chair. “You’re competing?”

“Yep. I’m part of both the orchestra and band in my university.” A smirk reaches up his lips and he pretends to whip back his non-existent long hair. “Impressive. I know.”

Jin puts a hand to his mouth, leaning over to Namjoon and whispering, “he doesn’t have a life outside of music. Not a social one and not a girlfriend. It’s sad.”

“You’re the one to speak, twerp!” He hits the younger man’s head, making Jin let out a whimper and a cry. The rows of people behind them are no longer eavesdropping or paying attention, waiting as the judges finish up with their decision. Meanwhile, Hoseok’s eyes land three chairs down. “Oh my god. Is that who I think it is?!”

“Hoseok.” Yoongi waves and smiles. “Hey. It’s been awhile.”

The middle schooler is absolutely bewildered. “You know each other? What the heck?! How do you know these people and I don’t?!”

“Band camp.” Hoseok reminisces with his eyes glossed over. “Yoongi was in senior year and he snuck in fireworks. They caught the entire grounds on fire. Everyone knows him.”

Yoongi chuckles, “good times.’

Jennie nudges him, “I’ve never heard of that story.”

Hoseok notices her immediately and takes interest. “Who is this beautiful lady?”

“Jennie.” They awkwardly shake hands and she smiles. “I play violin, concertmistress of the university orchestra with Y/N.”

“Impressive...smart. And pretty.”

Yoongi’s pupils sharpen. “Uh-huh.”

“Well I’ve got to get backstage but it was nice seeing all of you...” Hoseok grits his teeth at his brother who only sheepishly smiles. “....even if you’re not here to support me specifically.

Namjoon wishes him luck. “Break a leg!”

“Thanks.”

The performance continues with intermediate breaks, judges discussing the credentials and techniques of each band. Hoseok’s plays rather decently, causing all four to be astounded. Jennie takes mental notes while Namjoon makes comments, the both of them critiquing the groups and guessing what the panelists will comment on. When they’re unable to decide what is excellent or merely acceptable, Yoongi interjects and he always brings a brighter perspective with obvious points. Jin just claps.

Taehyung hollers as he steps out on stage.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Jin chants your name, holding up the poster. When they find you humiliated, everyone’s eyes suddenly on you, Yoongi joins in with the fun and screams along. Jennie laughs, clapping her hands and Namjoon smiles, calling your name out softly - “Y/N.”

Before the four of them can be thrown out, they settle down.

The playing is impeccable, a high standard to back up the university's name. Jennie is able to discern why despite the arrogant nature of her peers, they still find the symphonic band a threat. Yoongi nods along and Namjoon listens, spending his entire time gazing at you.

“It’s part of the top ten so far.” Your cousin murmurs, following the flute and baseline’s melting harmonics. “They’ll at least win second place and maybe a supreme award.”

The performance ends with a roar, thunderous applause and everyone stands and bows. Jin screams your name, waving his poster. Yoongi grins and claps with Jennie who smiles brightly.

The corner of Namjoon’s mouth draws up high into his cheeks and as he leans over the ledge with Jin, shouting your name and being completely noisy, his glasses slide down his nose. The spectacles nearly drop from fifty feet from the balcony but the clumsy boy manages to catch it with both his hands. He sighs out in relief and smiles embarrassingly to you.

As you stare up at him, that’s enough to make you laugh and feel content.

[thelifetimechannel]

[bizarrebird]

Okay so, to start this, for reference, I have watched Buffy: the Vampire Slayer several times and taken a class entitled “Understanding the Whedonesque” and written/read several papers about all things Whedon, Buffy in particular, so I feel like I’m at least somewhat qualified to speak on the subject so, here we go

I will put the bloggings under a readmore. And yes, I am very sure someone before me has done this better, but I’ve had a lot of wine and this shit seems fun, so fuck it. And yes, I do like Buffy. I honestly do. Regardless of literally everything Joss Whedon, it’s a good show and was very important (arguably still important) for its time. So this may be a continuing thing. We’ll see.

Diana Liveblogs Buffy (Season 2, Episode 1: When she was bad)

tw: this episode features undiagnosed ptsd, and the subsequent mistreatment and misunderstanding of someone suffering said condition

We’re starting with Season 2, Episode 1 (Because most of season 1 just... isn’t good. Like it’s just bad. The first and last episode are passable, but the rest is mostly eh, and I won’t be revisiting it without significant comment)

So we start in with Xander* (human garbage) and Willow (a sweet child who deserves better) talking idly exchanging movie references (dumb ones, like really really, dumb ones. No seriously their big references are Planet of the Aps (the old as fuck one) and Star Wars (also the old as fuck one) don’t worry about it, Joss still thinks these are smart) and talking about the fact that Buffy has left to spend the summer (after she fucking died) with her estranged father in LA. This scene shows, rather explicitly that Willow has feelings for Xander which aren’t (????) reciprocated, as he is still very much hung up on Buffy, asking if she asked about him when she contacted Willow. Which is of course the most important thing she could have possibly done in such a situation. (we will revisit later all the times Xander* is terrible about Buffy and several other people/things as we go This is the first of many that will be touched on.) Xander* mentions that he has “certain needs” because he’s a man. Wow. A man. Wanting to fuck a woman. How amazing. What intense drama. The fact that Buffy might not be interested occurring to him exactly... never. Huh. How about that.

*fuck Xander

There’s sexual tension here that’s really awkward (more awkward with the fact that WILLOW IS GAY AND I WILL TALK ABOUT THIS IN SEASON FOUR BUT SHE IS GAY) were Xander* dabs her nose with ice-cream and cleans it off. And okay, honestly credit where credit is due this could have been grosser with him licking it off, but he doesn’t. He gently cleans it away. AND THEN They are attacked by a vampire and saved by Buffy, who seemingly appears out of nowhere to save her friends.

THINGS IT IS IMPORTANT TO NOTE IN THIS FIGHT SCENE

Xander does push Willow back and tells her to go. Ignoring the macho vibes here, he is trying to protect his friend who he was about to kiss. I don’t give Xander a lot of credit, but this is a decent moment.

Buffy slays this vampire by pushing him into a tree branch. Thus she does not kill the first vamp. She pushes him onto another object that kills him. No trust me this is a big deal. Buffy has not killed a vampire with her own two hands for a while. Willow hugs her and then She then asks “Miss me?” as we go to opening credits

((This is important. I don’t care about the hugs we get after credits, we don’t know if her friends missed her and I don’t know how to tell you how important that is))

Buffy comments on the fact that neither of them are ready to deal with vampires “very sloppy”.  Which they brush off, Xander* saying “that’s the first vampire we’ve seen since you killed the Master”. Buffy is immediately uncomfy, but they all blow through it. Xander* draws attention back to the vampire she just killed, and Buffy admitting that she went hard (”yeah, I didn’t kinda wail on him, didn’t I?”), but then that gets brushed off too. (do we see a theme yet???)

*fuck Xander

Willow says Buffy missed them burying the Master’s bones, and there’s this very close shot on Buffy’s face as she looks where Willow’s pointing. No one else notices, and no one else cares that Buffy is very obviously having a reaction to that and they just go on with their business saying they’re glad Buffy is back. (There’s a question asking whether she’s seen Giles yet and she’s pointedly ???? about it (cause she doesn’t want to admit to any issues) but that is a whole other Slayer/Watcher video that will develop as we go)

Alright then we go to:

Buffy’s parents putting away her stuff, which honestly is????? I think this plot would mean more if Joss got to do his actual version of the movie and Buffy’s dad got more screen time. But he doesn’t and Joss didn’t so this is just real awkward time that could have been devoted to my queen Joyce. Her dad mentions Buffy was distant. This is maybe because SHE FUCKING DIED AND NO ONE CARES. NO LITERALLY NO ONE GIVES A SHIT SHE DIED. THEY ASKED A 15-16 YEAR OLD GIRL TO DIED AND WERE SUPER CONFUSED WHEN SHE WAS UPSET ABOUT IT.

Okay, but this is not to shit on Joyce. She’s a good mom and she does her best. Please if you are for whatever reason only watching this show now, give Joyce a chance. She’s trying.

So we go to the school and

Cordelia (light of my life and sunshine of my heart this will make sense season 3 or when we get to Angel trust me) complaining about her parents not taking her on a glamorous vacation (this will be important later). Cordelia asks “is it possible to have too much character”, which is a great question (the answer is yes) and we’ll also get back to that later. Then we go to Giles and new (ish, remind me when hyenas ate the last dude) principal Snyder. There is an, extremely worrying comment from Snyder about how ‘every girl makes boys a time bomb’ (no like what the actual fuck Joss that’s so fucked up).

Snyder makes a comment about teenage boys turning into idiots around girls that ‘ironically’ (Joss Whedon doesn’t know what irony is) signals the arrival of Jenny Calendar. Jenny is the computer class (computer sciences???? idk what the fuck they were teaching in the 90s) teacher who helped last season with the destruction of the Master (a lame villain with like minimal buildup and a shitty plot, who killed Buffy cause fuck Joss Whedon).

Giles also likes her. A lot. This will be important later when the plot remembers who she is for drama.

Snyder ends this scene with the line “I might as well be talking to myself”, which HAHA he is. Isn’t that clever? Oh man, Joss, that’s a good one. So fucking original. I can’t believe this guy lasts as long as he does with the shit Joss gives him. No, seriously, look him up, he’s a decent actor??? but all he gets are bit parts cause of shit like this

Anyway

We go to Giles talking with Jenny about her exciting summer at Burning Man. Here we see how cool and ‘in touch with the youths’ Jenny is and Giles isn’t. Wow, how ever will they work out their issues? We just don’t know. There’s some marginally flirty banter featuring Giles picking up on the word ‘naked’ (so clever Joss wow, you are a wordsmith) and Jenny teasing him about liking books (she hints at him reading dirty books, or her liking them. idk what the real point is here) before Xander and Willow show up. Buffy shows up and Giles asks “how are you?”

To which she responds “alive and kicking.”

There’s a lot of fairly pointed stuff here about her dying and coming back, which again NO ON FUCKING TALKS ABOUT. But whatever. Buffy’s good. Like so good.

They quickly discuss and establish that the Hellmouth is still an open and active thing that they should be worrying about. Just in case anyone was wondering what this show would have going for it.

Now okay, Giles does try to be a decent human being here. He asks Buffy when she wants to start training again and clearly feels bad about the whole thing. And when she says she wants to start just then he’s iffy cause he knows there’s some underlying issues going on. But Buffy does insist. She says she’s ready.

INTENSE TRAINING MONTAGES

Okay so 90s montages aren’t what they are now, but the show does make it clear Buffy’s hung up on the Master and, y’know, the whole deal where he killed her. Yeah, that’s still a thing.

Then there’s some vamp stuff that like might have gone somewhere if the kid playing the anointed one wasn’t getting too old. But seriously in two episodes no one’s gonna care. Just worry about how this shit affects Buffy, that’s what matters.

And then Buffy has a dream where Giles tries to kill her while her friends sit there doing nothing. This is obviously super important, but again a point that I feel other people have probably covered better. But the essentials are that Buffy feels like Giles, and to a bigger extent the Watcher’s council don’t care and are actively trying to kill her, and that her friends (when push comes to shove) will stand by and let him do so.

We then go to this shot of Buffy’s window and SURPRISE SURPRISE when she looks back to it Angel is there. Who could have guessed. And okay like, this is a step up from Twilight. I will admit that. But it’s not as much of one as people want it to be. A 100+ year old dude creeping on a girl in high school will always be creepy. HOWEVER BUFFY HANDLES IT BETTER AND YOU CAN FIGHT ME ON THIS LATER.

So to the point.

Angel is in her bedroom because he has an invite to the Summers’ house. This will be important later. Vampires who are given invitations to a house can use it whenever. REMEMBER THIS.

So anyway, Angel is literally the first person to actually ask how Buffy is. She does shrug that off, but that’s still important. No one else even bothers asking. However, when Buffy presses, Angel reveals that there’s other stuff going on which is the real reason he’s there.

Again, no one is asking about Buffy’s issues because they honestly, earnestly care. Just wanna point that out.

For what it’s worth, Angel does apologize for not having better news and for (at least I like to think this**) not having unselfish reasons to check in. And Angel does try to warn her about the anointed one’s power, which is... nice?

SPOILER WARNING: Nothing comes of this because the actor playing the anointed one was getting to old and wouldn’t work as a recurring villain.

This scene doesn’t quiiiite end there because (and I’m going to try to be civil about the Bangel moments because I don’t wanna shit on anyone’s ship, but god Angel’s the worst) Buffy asks ‘is that it?’ Like, quite clearly expecting more. That isn’t a subtle signal Angel, what the fuck

But he leaves with an awkward “I missed you” before Buffy can respond cause he’s an awkward asshole who doesn’t know how to process emotions. Yes, this is a recurring thing with him. Don’t expect it to get better. It won’t. Yes, Buffy deserves better. She won’t get it, I’m sorry.

ANYWAY

Her mom drives her to school, and here we see THE SECOND PERSON TO GIVE A SHIT AND SORT OF ASK BUFFY WHAT’S WRONG. She doesn’t do it perfectly, and Buffy doesn’t respond, but like... this tiny moment it a looooot for this show. Trust me. You will be amazed at the amount of “I don’t give a shit” that happens later comparatively to the two whole people we had giving a shit here about Buffy’s issues.

Clearly, by what we see, Buffy says nothing to Joyce here. HOWEVER she mentions something about Angel to Willow and Xander. Who are no help. At all. They ask about kissing (Willow, sweet bab) and groping (Xander, oh honey no, I see you Joss, I fuckin see you). So yeah. MENTION OF RELEVANT 90s BAND AT THE BRONX WOW WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE I DON’T REMEMBER

And then Cordelia (my queen) arrives. The show is blessed with her glorious, radiant presence, and we should be so grateful.

So Cordelia (my badass queen who knows no bounds) just flat out stats that she knows demons are a thing and she’s not afraid to admit it. Xander and Willow are trying to keep up the ‘all is normal’ thing, but sweet Cordy has no patience for them. Cordelia (wonder of wonders) says she’s still freaked about being around for the Master stuff last year and (WITH A VERY SIGNIFICANT CLOSE SHOT) tells Buffy “your secret’s safe with me” (which would be a declaration of love on any show between an m/m pair I’m just fucking saying). Buffy (who isn’t ready to accept that she’s bi yet) brushes her off, which, I just wanna say, EVERYONE IN THAT SCENE POINTS OUT.

And we cut to the Bronze (idk if that’s the most correct spelling, but that’s what google seems to think is cool) . Willow and Xander are talking with Willow ( a soft child who knows little of the world yet) saying Buffy’s different now and Xander (a gremlin) saying who cares. Xander just wants to ogle that sweet Buffy bod, which becomes apparent when Willow tries to recreate their cutesy moment from before and it shot down completely.

And I forgot about this moment cause no one cares, but we cut away to vampire biz with the Anointed Baby digging up the Master’s bones for some creeptastic ritual. He doesn’t care about his followers and neither should you. This scene would matter if the anointed one matter, but he doesn’t, so it doesn’t. The only thing that should matter here is that the ground where the Master is buried is consecrated, but that’s never gonna come up again, so don’t worry about it, no one cares.

Stepping in time with *COOL 90S BAND MUSIC* Buffy struts into the club in a dress that’s hot but like... it’s still the 90s so don’t get your hopes up for sideboob. Also Angel is suddenly here I guess???? This would be a lot less weird if he had been there in any of the establishing shots, but Joss is still learning here, I guess, and forgets (frequently) that Angel should exist outside of his love interest, especially if he’s gonna get a spinoff later.

Buffy and Angel say hi and it’s awkward and I would probably care more if I rewatched season 1 first, but you couldn’t pay me enough to rewatch that. There’s clear tension there with Buffy wanting Angel ti give more of a shit and him not getting it because he’s spent a hundred years barely being a person, and Cordelia watches because???? reasons???? I guess. Buffy goes over to flirt with Xander and dances with him and it’s literally uncomfortable for everyone because this is an aggressively clear sign that BUFFY HAS BEEN THROUGH TRAUMA AND IS NOT DEALING WITH IT AND IS LASHING OUT BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO

Like I’m not saying that makes it okay, but this scene is a cry for help from Buffy that no one responds to. And then Cordelia (my sweet love) is forced to regurgitate words from Joss telling Buffy to ‘get over it’. Uh huh, yeah sure Joss, she’ll get right on that you dick.

And then Cordelia gets dragged off by vamps literally right behind Buffy’s back. Like that is the most literally of literallys. And she finds they also have Jenny Calendar there like ????? did they just snatch her and no one gave a shit???

Okay, okay, moving on, Buffy heads home-ish and finds the dug up Master grave which like... is in the middle of a regular cemetery and seems like it should have been fucking noticed by someone???? Whatever, all adults in the Buffyverse (except Joyce) suck I guess

AND THEN. Fucking then we cut to Willow saying Buffy has to be possessed for her weird sexy dancing with Xander. Instead of, y’know, the fact that she’s dealing with a lot of trauma and coping in shit ways and no one cares. Willow, I love you, but you’re not a great friend. Like straight up***.

Xander (a garbage boy wrapped in moldy taco shells****) tries to argue for a second before agreeing. Giles does try to point out that Buffy’s dealing with some trauma (which he has at no point directly addressed with her cause his spine is made of marshmallows and paperclips), and then Buffy shows up and says the Master’s bones are gone and everyone else forgets that she’s dealing with some massive shit. Cause wow, they might be in danger.

ACTUALLY I wanna point out a thing here where Buffy’s like ‘this is slayer stuff, no civvies’ meaning no Xander and Willow and like... given the response he has to Willow being in danger later, his response of getting super pissy now This is gonna be my first

FUCK YOU XANDER HARRIS

FUCK YOU AND YOUR GARBAGE PRIORITIES

FUCK YOUR CRUSHES AND FUCK YOUR ONLY DECIDING GIRLS ARE WORTH CARING ABOUT WHEN THEY’RE DIRECTLY RELATED TO YOU

ahem

Anyway

Snyder says some weird stuff and we move on.

We go to the library for RESEARCH FUN TIMES. Giles reads some prophecy thing saying they need the bones of the Master to bring him back and the blood of whoever was close to him when he died. Huh that’s interesting phrasing, or is it. A rock crashes through the window with a bracelet attached that Buffy immediately identifies as Cordelia’s (why do you know that’s hers Buffy? why do you know that bracelet?). It’s threatening and says come to the Bronze and is deffos a trap, but Buffy goes anyway cause fuck you not-dad

Buffy goes out to kick ass and I believe in her. Angel shows up and is all dark and brooding and no one cares, Angel. They don’t make out cause Buffy can do better and she heads into the Bronze (also there’s terrible foreshadowing about them fighting later and I hate it don’t look at me). Okay a lot of meta could be written on Buffy and Angel talking there but I don’t wanna do it

The trap isn’t for her surprise. It’s for Giles and Willow who were close to the Master when he died. Buffy realizes this and goes back to try to help them and gets there too late and Xander makes me hate him forever. He says he doesn’t know what Buffy’s issues are (there are a lot of them would you like a list fuckboi) and he doesn’t care (and yet he continues to call himself Buffy’s friend) if she had worked with them for five seconds (uh what five seconds? before or after she gave you all the info you had and then went to deal with literally the only lead) and he says, and I fucking quote “If they hurt Willow I’ll kill you”

Suck my giant dick Xander Harris. Maybe you’re a teenager and you’re stupid, but still. that is not the kind of threat you make to a friend, let alone one who fucking weekly saves your selfish entitled ass

I get this is supposed to be a moment where we’re shown he cares about Willow, where there’s a hint there might be chemistry there, but all this comes off as is spiteful and Joss Whedon shoving it in our faces that Buffy is wrong

She’s wrong for feeling her feelings

She’s wrong for not immediately getting over the trauma and hardship Joss fucking Whedon wrote her into

She’s wrong for not immediately knowing what to do to make things better

In case it’s not obvious, I hate this and don’t accept it, but LET’S PRESS ON SHALL WE

Xander actually takes a second to fucking explain why they took the people they did. We cut to Buffy torturing the one vamp who attacked her before (no one’s ever gonna touch on the morality here. like ever. like what the shit guys fucking Supernatural handles this better). Then we go to some... ceremony to probably resurrect the Master. Buffy plots with Xander and Angel “I’m gonna kill them all, that oughtta distract them”*****

And then I guess the ritual almost happens????? There’s not super much threat. The anointed baby runs away and Buffy eventually kills everyone. There’s some cool fight moves, I guess. And Xander and Angel are vaguely helpful, but they mostly let Buffy do everything

Buffy then goes to smash the bones of the Master and FUCKING FINALLY gets to have an emotional moment. Angel comforts her (he still doesn’t deserve her but like at least he gives a shit so... that’s good, I guess, better that literally everyone else here******) . And everyone else looks on and thats???? really weird???? Like there’s no emoting in any of the faces and it just feels v strange

We go to the high school the next day???? and Cordelia talks to Jenny Calenday briefly. Then we go to Giles and Buffy, who (because Joss Whedon secretly hates her which is my thesis for this project btw) says she made all the goofs. All of it is Buffy’s fault you guys. She did everything wrong. Wow. What a concept. Wow. Can you believe it. Because I can’t. I literally can’t wowzers.

Buffy goes to class and... has a moment with Xander and Willow I guess???? They saved her a seat so... everything’s fine now??? idk what the fuck the emotional conclusion we’re supposed to get here is so

Whatevs

FINAL THOUGHTS: All in all, this episode did have an important emotional arc for Buffy and isn’t a bad season opener. It didn’t introduce the main villains, but it did deal with significant wrap ups from the previous season and alluded to some potential conflicts down the road.

*My ‘fuck Xanders are largely as a result of a later ‘fuck Xander viewpoint’ but I think it stands

**For the record, I don’t like Angel. I don’t like the Angel/Buffy relationship. BUT I will give Angel points where he gets them. And right now, he gives the most of a shit about Buffy, so he’s doing decent, not great, but decent in by books

***Buffy and Willow both tend to be iffy friends when there’s a significant other involved. It’s a recurring thing and it’s not great.

****I am legit giving Xander more of pass now because he’s a teenager. He should still know better than to be the intensely shitty shit that he is, but he’s 16 now. This will change in later seasons

*****Okay but how does no one notice or give a shit that Buffy’s dealing with some stuff. She’s 16. This is fucked up, fuck Giles, fuck the watchers, fuck Angel, fuck all of it

******Not to detract from the moment but Buffy’s definitely standing on a box here like. Sarah Michelle Gellar is tiny and David whatshisface is a giant

[themadnessthatis]

So, Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness...

Warning, this is going to be a long-ass post, mostly me rambling about how TR6 was a game with good concepts but shitty execution. Expect a bit of non-linear ranting.

I have some serious Opinions™ on this game, now having finished it (which was a quasi-Herculean feat in of itself from fighting against the game the whole time, but more on that in a bit).

When I first got this game, eyes full of wonder and amazement, I was like “aw yeah, a new Tomb Raider for a new generation of consoles!”. Having only played it for a bit my opinion quickly soured, and the game was never played after having fallen down a hole and dying in the Parisian sewers. All I said to myself at the time was “wow, this game is shit,never playing this again :| .”

Which I didn’t, until recently.

Fast forward a bit, and a friend of mine lends me her PC copies of Tomb Raider 2-through-6 (sadly no copy of TR1  :’[ ), which I sat down and played, all while eyeing up the box containing AoD with animosity. Boy did I regret saying I wouldn’t mind if she lent me that one as well.

But after going through the other games with various degrees of ease, from the “wow it’s over already?” of Chronicles to the “Will it never end?” of TR3 (which I personally rate as the worst of the “old school” Tomb Raiders. Just....fuck that game, the best part of it is the credits, but I digress.), we were left with just one more game; Angel of Darkness, sitting there, almost expectantly.

“Well, it’s been a while, maybe I was just bad at the game, and it’s actually alright?” I said as I set about installing it, ready to give the game the benefit of the doubt.

Well the fact that controller setup was a pain in the arse should’ve been a dead giveaway that something was up. Though is was nowhere near as infuriating as Chronicles, which required a fucking JoyToKey configuration to get it to work smoothly, otherwise jumps would result in Lara just careening off to the side every.fucking.time.)

Actually, when you first play AoD, the controls are really the first thing you’ll pick up on. I.E: they’re the worst. Really they’re the biggest flaw of this whole game, and if they weren’t as clunky and gods-awful as they are, AoD might’ve been a much better experience. Lara controls like a fucking Mark IV from 1917; turns, speed, everything. It’s such a jarring shift from the previous installments that it really takes some time getting used to, and could be a reall deal-breaker. Also Lara no longer runs like she used to, more like a slow jog, only gaining the ability to sprint later in the game (you know, the thing she could do at the very beginning of TR3, 4 and 5? Like she has to learn how to use her legs, after all of her previous escapades?!). Jumping also seems to have undergone some hideous transformation; from somewhat fluid sequences to an absolutely jerky mess of a mechanic, not helped by Lara needing some space to build up momentum (from walk to jog). Like the only time she handles almost smoothly is when she’s swimming (which thank fuck no longer has her getting stuck on the walls and floor like she did in previous games.).

When you’re not busy fighting against the controls and some of the early Capcom-esque fixed camera angles, you might be able to notice some of the changes to the TR formula, for better or for worse.

Perhaps the most noticeable is Lara’s equipment; gone are her iconic (not Ubisoft iconic, mind you) pistols with unlimited ammo. In their place Lara can collect a plethora of new pistols, including a very nice taser. Though this is moot when Lara eventually loses all of her acquired weapons, as she is wont to do if TR1, 2 and 3 are anything to go by. You also get the classic shotgun and two SMGs. Though tbh, and this might just be me, but don’t all of the weapons in this game feel like the do the same amount of damage?

One thing that was a nice touch was the inventory revamp. The ring-like setup from previous TRs is gone, and now each type of item (health, weapons and puzzle clues) have their own inventory sections, making it less of an eyesore than the cluttered messes of the previous game’s inventories. Speaking of health, the repertoire of healing items has been increased, with various items granting various degrees of health restoration, which is nice, no more wasting medikits (though i do not understand how a chocolate bar could heal a person, but whatever, video game logic, i guess.). The puzzle clues section does get kinda cluttered though, as Lara doesn’t seem to want to get rid of anything she picks up, even if she no longer needs it, so her pockets are basically just full of security cards and bits of paper until the end of the game like JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK JUST DUMP THAT SHIT IN A BIN, LARA!”.

On the subject of puzzles, it’s great that that is an element that has carried over to AoD nicely, unlike some of the more modern titles (looking at you, Tomb Raider 2013). The Hall of Seasons was a great example of this, and is very reminiscent of the St Francis’ Folly from the original games, what with its God-themed rooms. Granted that there were other “puzzles” that were a little too obvious, like “push table to find mixture to kill giant plant”. But overall,  the puzzle side of Tomb Raider is definitely there. Although, there are no secrets to find (but after TR3 and 4′s “And your reward is FLARES” bullshit, I’m okay with that).

So, what about the story? To be perfectly honest, it’s as about as normal as a Tomb Raider story line can be: Secret sect looking for paintings so they can resurrect an ancient race of human/angel hybrids that was destroyed back in biblical times except not all of them, and Lara gets involved b/c they killed Von Croy and she was framed for it... Look, it’s certainly not as far-fetched as “Italian mafia dude looking for magic Chinese knife that turns people into dragons instead of corpses when stabbed with it.” (Love you, TR2, but what even...), or whatever the hell was going on in TR3 with its magical ancient Polynesian artifacts and “rapid evolution”, but it’s out there.

Mechanics wise, there have been some changes that are quite nice in concept, but are failed by poor execution (a running theme for this game). The grip meter is a new thing, and is influenced by Lara’s upper body strength (like how her jumping/sprinting and door-kicking are affected by her lower body strength), like a sort of RPG attribute. These body strength factors are a nice tough and could’ve been a plus in a good game, but here the attributes are given out at arbitrary moments throughout the game and feel forced, like at one moment Lara must gain an upper body strength upgrade by just shunting a pile of boxes around for no real reason. When you couple this with the sluggish momentum-based “running”, it’s almost like the developers were trying to go for a more “realistic” feel but didn’t really know how to go about it.

There’s also a certain Bioware-esque dialogue tree that pops up from time to time in the game. While it’s a nice touch, the fact that there’s no real change to the outcome (bar 3 exceptions) kind of makes the interactions pointless.

Going past the mechanics, the game itself (at least on PC), is a glitchy, buggy mess that would crash for no reason. Textures are missing, walls vanish in some of Kurtis’ (a boring, bland secondary character we get to play as, and I’ll get to him in a second.) levels for no reason, not to mention that one level can be skipped entirely thanks to a bug where Lara just has to roll into a fucking wall. Also, not certain if it’s more an exploit than it is a bug, but it’s kinda of an anticlimax that the last two bosses can be cheesed by just commando-crawling under their projectiles. The greatest menaces to humanity, outdone by toddler maneuvers .

Now, onto Kurtis...Kurtis is a member of an organisation dedicated to stomping out evil, particularly sorcery and alchemy (thus pitting him against the big baddie, Eckhardt, who looks like he just got done trying to audition for the part of Auron from Final Fantasy). He’s supposed to come across as some sort of bad boy with magical powers, but honestly he’s a boring, ugly, fucking Broody McGravelvoice with no personality. You get to play as him for all of 3 (or was it 4?) levels, and boy oh boy, you will hat him throughout all of them. Somehow, and I didn’t know it was possible, somehow he controls WORSE than Lara. He moves like he’s got a broom up his arse and jumps like he’s on the fucking moon. His levels feel like they were  some De-mastered edition of Until Dawn, full of enemies that serve no purpose other than to drain you of resources, and are capped off with the worst boss fight ever, thanks to twitchy auto-aim and Kurtis’ shoddy controls. Like fucking Mark Williard at  the end of TR3 was more feasible than this cavalcade of bullshit. Also the first time he meets Lara in the Louvre, the cut-scene is just so unsettling and creepy, she should’ve just beat his arse into the tiled floor there and then. I seriously hope he’s dead.

And the ending... What a bloody disappointment; Lara wanders off into a dark passage after killing the bigger bad, and then...nothing. No credits, no “the end” screen, the game just shits you back onto the “Press Start” screen.

But in the end, after all was said and done, I think my opinion of AoD has shifted somewhat. I don’t hate it like I thought I did, I’m just, I dunno, disappointed...This game had so many good ideas that were handled so poorly, and it certainly wasn’t helped that, at least on the PC version, it was a glitch-fest and the controls were piss-poor. And as a final insult? Jiggle physics. I’m not fucking kidding like Core Design  couldn’t iron out the bugs and do something about the arse-backwards controls, but they gotta make sure dem jiggly titties are in there? -_-’ Fucking hell what a dumpster fire of a game. Like I want to like it but the fuck-headedness of it all just, just no. 

[oceangl1tter]

I am 17  and .  actual ‘17

i wake up crying. the dream is: i am wreaking hell in the classroom and coach watches me make use of this newfound super strength. I am yelling every instance I held my tongue.

earlier this year, a sophomore at school disappears and there's a post on facebook from his older brother; the school doesn't comment.

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i would like to scream at him. coach calls me and says i should know better. what does that mean? i would like to scream at him for not knowing that my friend tried to kill himself and that no one seemed to care just as he said it wouldn't. i Am stuck while the world keeps turning.

my art teacher complains to him that i don't try enough in my paintings—evident through strokes that are supposed to blend but are more like violent gashes on paper. they're the same brutal mesh of red and blue and black even though black is the worst you can do to a painting. i'm five years old in front of a wall trying to mix green crayola and black crayola to somehow get yellow. i Am getting sick of harmony.

when we tell him, coach looks at his grades and tells us it might be the calculus and that he's talking to the academic counselor to see if he can change it for him. i can't believe it. i really can't. he doesn't either.

Angela hints that whenever she talks to me she feels like she's getting nowhere. That's the point. My counselor must feel the same way; this is what I don’t tell her:

 a year ago

---------- honestly feel like i’m losing interest in a lot of things that i used to enjoy. just feelin like a sack of cold ass rocks slowly tumbling its way down a cliff.

life is just moving on without me and idk if i’m ready to be left behind

i don’t know if i care about anything anymore. but i know i have to because there are deadlines and at this point i’m just picking and choosing which ones i can afford to miss like god damn cherry picking!! i hate cherries!!

my damn friend sent me a suicide letter and had his orig deadline set for last friday and that’s just shitty man, id on’t even know where he is anymore. my friends and i reported it to the principal/who then contacted the police and i don’t know when he’ll be back or if we did the right thing or if we just exiled him into the system.  i know he knows i tipped him off and also that he’s too smart and too stubborn for whatever help he’s getting. i just hope he’s okay even if i never talk to him again. i just feel like things could have been different. no one knows about this besides the three of us that reported it. it’s sad to see how little it mattered that he’s gone to some people that i thought would be more concerned but i guess that’s how it is. i mean there’s college apps and there’s a buncha shit like birthdays but idk.. how can you even focus or care abt that kind of stuff when a life is on the line. idk this kinda opened my eyes to how much no one cares which is ironic

i went to some birthday party, which i thought.. was tea party themed but it was an actual tea party and idk i just felt kind of rude because everyone was so enthusiastic about their teas and the different kinds of tea and the tinge of sweet cinnamon in the rose green tea and you should try it!!or something like that and man i think they could tell i did not give a fucc abt their type of tea i was just there trying to exist and drink tea and eat triangle shaped sandwiches.

i’m trying to continue on my regular routine but it’s hard. i need to care!!! i need to get to college!!!! i need to do shit with my life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111111111 i can’t just throw everything away because i’m sad!!! fucc that!!!!!!!!!!111111

aaaa i know it’s serious when no one is freaking cute anymore!! aint no one catchin my eye :(

on a lighter note i got some c00l clothes off yesstyle for 11/11 singles day, but i checked again today and all of the clothes were the same price!!!!! finna lied to me!!!!!!! there was no sale!! just a markup!!!!!!111111111. but i think wearing something new will be a good change of pace.. that’s something to look forward to!111111111111111 college apps.. on the other hand……….. arenot………

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 i don’t feel fine or good at all . i just want to go and be gone.

i’ve been thinking of           but not in like

an aggressive way but kind of like laying all the cards out on the table and being relieved that atleast there’s a final option if anything really tips the scales to being unbearable. i just don’t know how i’d go about doing it, like ? wouldn’t that be absurd to research and google how to properly 

-------

i don’t know what’s wrong with me i feel sad and i don’t know why a lot of the things i used to like doing now just make me sad i ate fucking gold fishes for a good 20 minutes and that shit made me sad cause i was just mindlessly eating god damn crackers without doing anything and that 20 minutes was better than doing anything else i dont even know what i like anymore they didn’t even taste that great