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grandinventor · 4 years

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At the risk of sounding like a Jindosh apologist here (I am.) I will preface that Jindosh is a bad guy, he has either killed people personally or got them killed for experiment purposes by his Clockworks and has dissected the dead so he is not good, he is a villain, I acknowledge that.

Now with that out of the way I wanna criticize the narrative surrounding him and his mansion and how it sometimes falls flat on it’s face trying to demonize them thanks to a lot of points my friend @divaythfyr brought up. I’ll put all of that below the cut:

Yesterday I was told this line and I won’t lie it is...bad. Line in question:

Billie: "His home is supposed to be full of marvels. Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal. Kids, even. People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help."

But because I couldn’t live with the idea that he kills children you know the simplest villain demonization tactic in writing history (kick the puppy, kick the child whatever) and I think it’s pretty cheap to try and make him worse than Sokolov, I talked to the Jindosh apologist committee and thot about it so I’ll go over this line by line.

1. "His home is supposed to be full of marvels.“ - Okay but isn’t his home also supposed to be scary? Isn’t the whole “Why would anyone build a scary mansion like this?” line from Emily/Corvo as they enter supposed to tell us that this is a scary place? Which is funny because in reality the mansion itself isn’t scary at all, in fact it’s extremely logical in the way it unfolds and exposes the rooms. It’s perfectly functional and as someone with a major in architecture, I can say it’s the best designed house in terms of organization in the game. There is no way to die in the mansion unless the Clockwork Soldiers and the guards get you - which goes for literally any important/rich person’s house? You walk in someone’s house uninvited and their guards get you. You can die if you get behind the walls but it’s extremely difficult to do so especially in the places where you can get squished. The house itself is completely harmless. So the whole idea from Jindosh’s end that it’s a maze is stupid on it’s own too, the house is perfectly logical and Stilton’s manor is an actual maze because I got lost 10 times in there.

2. “Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal.“ - okay first part is correct people go in his house to either steal, test their skills or kill him. He says as much himself. He says fabled thieves and assassins died there. Again probably from his guards and Clockworks since you can’t die from the house in any rational way. And then he dragged them half dead or dead in his lab to dissect them. He has a fascination with watching people die because he is like evil and a villain like that. Which brings me to the next point which is:

There are only two ways to get in his mansion without powers. There is the bridge below which is broken and the railway which is guarded and has a Wall of Light on the other end. So how will anyone that is not prepared with a grappling hook or some kind of way to close this gap gonna get in? How is your random average person gonna go in? And most importantly why? Do people just walk in aristocrat’s houses and expect not to get out in a body bag or?

Besides he has a) a lot of free food and drinks in the lobby which is his threshold as to how far you are allowed to go so if someone wanted food they can just walk in and take it and leave (after you know, scaling a mountain for whatever reason because there aren’t easier houses to steal from) and b) he has an audiograph, because I am sure he assumes people can’t read, which tells you “Do not enter or you will die and I will dissect your remains and this is a promise.” Like why add a warning if you wanna lure people in? Unless those people think they can outsmart him so they come with intent and not just because they need food/shelter. Also he has food right next to that audio.

3. “Kids, even.“ - okay this one, the scary line. I won’t lie this made me uncomfortable. So like if we assume that normal people can enter by normal means (which in point 2 is clear they can’t unless further elaborated by the game on How? and Why?), a child going in as a dare and dying is possible. Billie after this line goes on to say that she saw a child dare his brother to touch the wall of light which vaporized the child, so the implication is possible. It’s possible a child went in his mansion as a dare and bad things unfolded. It’s also equally possible that it didn’t. We know of adult men dying because we see the bodies. For this one is just a rumor. You can take it either way depending on how you feel about Jindosh. It’s very unlikely a child would get this far though, unless this was some kind of Disney movie. Also Jindosh wouldn’t personally have a reason to kill a child you know, like I know it’s the easiest “this villain is super evil!!!!” writing tactic, but he had a pretty shitty childhood, he felt hated by his mother and probably wasn’t treated so nicely by his (bastard) brother. He likes to exercise his lack of control during his younger years by having control over other people through his house and toying with them. He is very childish in a sense too (with his toy house and toy soldiers), and because of all of this I truly don’t think he would kill a child. He wants a real challenge and to test out his machines and his house against the best and smartest Karnaca can offer, not children. Though my opinion here can be highly biased.

Also many children can casually pull 6ft tall levers I’m sure--

4. “People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help." - we know people have died in the mansion and they have been crying for release, as he says so himself. But again the above points kind of challenge as to who these people that died inside were. However because you know I’ve been playing with his mansion for four years cause I am a dumb hoe, I can say that there are very little windows. In fact the majority of windows that aren’t blocked off by the cliff or the mechanisms are around his laboratory.

Now yes people could go there and bang on them sure. But they literally...face the lab and chances are no one is gonna hear you bang on that side. The other windows not facing the lab are in the foyer where...you are allowed to be and nothing is gonna happen to you.

And the windows that actually face a side where let’s say someone could hear if someone was banging are the windows on the front of the house. Only the thing is, there are no windows on the front of the house except in the foyer.

Here are the buildings from across his mansion which I guess can maybe hear if someone was banging on the windows. But again no windows on the front of the house.

The fake windows is where the mechanism for the ceiling over the gallery in the upper hall is. The one that kinda extends and unfolds from there. So isn’t entirely possible that the banging and screaming or whatever people heard is just...the mechanisms of his house? The scary evil child killing house? Which is actually moving and making a lot of noise at all times?

So in conclusion? Yes, Jindosh is bad, he has no regard to human life, he divides society as innocent bystanders and criminals. He does dream of an army of Clockwork Soldiers to eradicate all crime. Be, he isn’t a senseless killer, it’s his neutrality and fascination with death as well as his black and white thinking that makes him dangerous. He doesn’t see people as human. In the majority of cases we know of (except one for some reason? That cursed baker who got his brain fried why did you have to do that Jindosh!?) he experiments on people who he deems criminals without sympathy. Also in situations where he thinks it’s justified - breaking in to steal from him or hurt him, the Blade Verbena, prisoners that can actually provide a learning experience for his Clockworks and Sokolov. He doesn’t go kidnapping people off the streets to experiment on them.

And despite his evilness being completely logical, the whole game tries to paint his mansion as this big puzzle and trap when in reality it’s...really just a house. The level design is beautiful and amazing but I think it doesn’t really carry the point as strongly simply because it’s not any more dangerous than any other mission and it’s just more fun when it comes to gameplay. The design is great but it never gave me the feeling of it being a horror house. So I think that demonizing Jindosh through hearsay instead of through his actual mission is a bit of a weird choice. A lot of things don’t reflect how evil he is, but not in the good way of “The Grand Inventor doesn’t seem evil but he is.” and instead you get it hammered how evil he is from the start without actually ever experiencing a climax of his evilness you wouldn’t expect. It’s not that every story should have a twist, but usually when you say someone is evil, you either make them good at the end or even more evil. Jindosh never has that climax, he is the same start to finish and that is... mildly annoying and slightly threatening. Like his level is pretty but not scary and they keep trying to convince you it’s scary which makes it weird which I guess is because if you listen to a lot of his unused lines and old concept art, he was supposed to be this stereotypical mad scientist but in the end they changed his visual design and lines so much he comes off as lukewarm. I understand what they tried to do with Jindosh but I feel like they failed to do it and had to rely on everyone saying he is super irredeemably evil to justify lobotomizing him.

Anyway this post is too long, sorry if the read more doesn’t go through somewhere and please feel free to counter my points I am open to different and non biased views (or even information I might not know because I haven’t read the books or found everything).

#kirin jindosh #me putting this with full confidence in the tag #i hope i dont wake up to anything bad

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jinmindeulle · 4 years

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of love and other poems | myg

word count: 3.2 k

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: art gallery au, pianist/artist au, pianist!yoongi x artist!reader ∣ almost smut?, fluff

warnings: minor cursing

a/n: and with of love and other poems, i officially get started with my bts works! i have been waiting so long for this moment, especially because i love bts with my whole heart and they are my ultimate everything. although seokjin’s my bias, i had to get started with the bias wrecker. more things to come!!

happy reading! ♥

My hands were tinted with every colour of my palette. Most of my paintbrushes were used, spread over my dark wooden table, also painted with multiple colours and materials. Luckily, my floor was covered with a thousand plastic sheets that Taehyung had given me after seeing how messy my art room got every time I stepped inside it. That’s why I recently stopped trying to clean it. There’s no use when I literally have been spending my entire afternoons here.

“Could you book it, Tae? Are you sure that no one’s taking my place that day?”

“Relax, y/n” he chuckled, showing me the Seoul’s National Art Gallery’s website in his laptop “I have already booked yours and mine, and I checked twice. It’s going to be alright”

“You know that this is no joke, and I always get anxious over fucking everything!” I sighed, walking backwards some steps so that I could take a look at my last piece “What do you think? I’m planning to have this one at the entrance”

“So that’s the intro? It’s stunning, y/n” Tae smiled, displaying his boxy grin “You’ll graduate with honours! I’m so proud of you!” he hugged me tight, shaking our bodies with excitement.

“You too!” I giggled, hugging him back.

Although I was constantly worried about how well my art would do in every class, Taehyung was always there to reassure me and make sure that I was satisfied. Nearing our college graduation, however, my insecurities got worse and worse. Surrounded by talented people, including my best friend, I knew for a fact that I was going to have a hard time coming up with something creative and meaningful to display as my final exam. At the same time, we were not only in charge of our work, but also of booking our place at the Seoul’s National Art Gallery on the weekend that our delivery was due, of arranging our pieces and exhibiting them for the general public as if we already were the professional artists that we hoped to become after that damned exam. My anxiety levels were reaching their peaks as that day got closer, so Taehyung made sure to spend as much time with me as possible.

“Don’t you need to get back to your apartment? You had to finish your last piece too” I pouted.

“I can manage”

“Tae…” I whined “You know how much I appreciate and thank you for being here with me, but you need to focus on your exam too. Go home, I can deal with myself for a bit”

“It’s okay, really” he took my chin with one of his large hands and playfully shook my head “Jimin is practicing his routine for his own final exam and I-”

“Need silence to paint, I know” I interrupted him, chuckling “So you’ll stay the night, then?”

“Seems like you want to” he teasingly wiggled his eyebrows, earning an arm smack from me “Ouch!”

“Go order some pizza while I take a shower, dummy”

Although some say that taking a shower is a way of relaxing, I highly disagree.

Less than two days away from my final exposition, my head wouldn’t stop thinking and re-evaluating every aspect of my already finished pieces, going over every detail that could go wrong that day. I knew I had taken care of everything and anything, but it still felt like something was missing. My art was there, ready to take to the gallery and exhibit, I rehearsed and rehearsed what to say about each piece probably a thousand times and my outfit was already picked up, obviously by Tae. What else was there to complement my artwork?

As I dried my hair, going over the poem that was behind my paintings in my head, Taehyung’s deep, caramel voice came muffled through the bathroom’s door. He was singing that same old song that complimented his tone like no other. Enjoying the melody, I turned off the hair dryer and got started with my night-time skincare routine, softly humming along Tae’s voice.

It was then when it hit me.

“That’s what I fucking need!” I yelled, running out of the bathroom with half of my face covered in my green facemask.

Taehyung’s eyes went wide upon seeing me desperately going in circles around the coffee table, screaming nonsensical words and having the eleventh mental breakdown over the course of the afternoon. But as he was too used to my stupidity, he got up from the couch and stopped me on my tracks, putting his big hands on my shoulders. “Calm down, y/n, what’s wrong now?”

“I need music!” I panicked “My art gallery won’t be complete if I don’t fucking have live music to accompany the mood! It’ll be utterly horrible!” my eyes watered “How the fuck do I find a decent musician in less than 48 hours?!”

“God, y/n, I thought you were questioning your life choices again” he sighed, engulfing me in a comforting hug. I felt some tears go down my face, angry at myself for letting those dumb things get to my head as fast as they pop up. I embraced his waist, cuddling closer to his neck but trying not to stain his pale-blue linen shirt with my facemask. “I know someone that could help”

“You do?” I sobbed, dethatching my face from his collarbone and looking up at his bright orbs.

“He’s a wonderful pianist and has brilliant taste in music. I’ll call him tomorrow first thing in the morning”

“You’re amazing, Tae” I cried, going back to his tight hold “I don’t know what I would do without you”

“Me neither” he chuckled, kissing the top of my head.

“You’ll do like no other, honey bunch. Just breath in and out, calm yourself down and most importantly, enjoy. You’ve been working so hard for this day and you cannot let it go to waste. You’ll smash it”

Once again embraced in Taehyung’s arms, I breathed in his scent as an attempt to calm down my beating heart. No one had arrived yet, but I was already at my fifth mental breakdown. All of the hard work that I had non-stop been carrying out for the past four years was hanging by a thread today, and as my best friend said, I could not ruin it by being a dumb bundle of nerves. Just when I was finally keeping my heartbeat under control, Tae’s phone started buzzing inside his suit’s pocket.

“That must be my pianist friend” he muttered, taking a look at his iPhone screen. “Yep. He’s here already, let me go get him!”

“Okay” I sighed, straightening my dress as he jogged out of the room.

My art pieces were already hanging on the walls, telling the story that I had wanted them to tell for so long. Each one had their own meaning, their own reason to be. Unlike those first paintings of mine, these had a purpose and they were able to talk to the observer, but only if they closely paid attention to every detail.

“That’s spectacular”

Such unfamiliar voice took me out of my thoughts, making me turn around to find the face that matched it. And goddamnit. Dumbfounded, speechless, mouth dried. That pianist was indeed spectacular.

“Th-thank you” that was all I could say. Damn, y/n, get it together!

“Min Yoongi” he stretched his hand, and I awkwardly shook it, praying to whatever God was above us to just let my blushing cheeks go back to normal as soon as possible.

“y/n l/n”

“Taehyung told me” he smiled, shoving his hands inside his pockets and looking around the gallery “I meant it when I said they are incredible”

“I-I appreciate it” I tightly closed my eyes, breathing in and out to help my heart beat at normal pace once more “And thank you for coming on such a short notice” I opened them up, just to find his endearing face looking at me with a soft smile over his rosy lips “It was a last-minute thought and I really needed music for my exhibit”

“I had the day off, so no worries. I know how important music is and I just wanted to help. Plus, I owed Taehyung a favour”

“It means a lo-”

“y/n! Professor’s here with a bunch of people!” a frantic Taehyung came running into the room, interrupting my exchange with the ravishing pianist “Get into place, you dummy! And you too, hyung!” and immediately after screaming at us, he went back to his place as my gallery’s receptionist.

“Good luck, artist. I’ll do my best to reach your standards” and with that, he walked straight to the giant shiny piano that was laying right in front of my last, ‘outro’ piece, and smoothly ran his expert fingers over the keys.

[BGM: i need u, piano version]

I could not take my eyes off of his veiny hands the moment he got started with his fascinating art, making me instantly regret having Taehyung take care of my one a.m. requests.

“How stunning, Miss. y/n!”

I was nearly running out of energy when Taehyung informed me that the last visitor was out of the room. He hugged me so tightly that I thought I was about to pass out, but at that point I could not care less.

“I’m so proud of you, honey bunch!” he giggled, picking me up from the ground and squeezing the life out of me, as he always does “It was impressive. Everyone loved it! You should have heard how they complimented your pieces as they left the gallery!”

“Tae…” I answered with difficulty, trying to catch some air “You’re clutching… me too… tight!”

“Sorry!” he put me down, arranging some of the hairs that went out of my perfectly styled bun.

“Thank you Tae” I sighed with a content smile “You made this possible too. And I will be there for you next week just as you were here today. I love you” I kissed his cheek, making him get flustered just as I wanted him to. “Now go home. You need to rest”

“But-”

“Kim Taehyung!” I interrupted him “I’ll finish here. I want to stay for a bit on my own and then I’ll go home.”

“Fine” he pouted “But you text me when you get home, please. It’s too late for you to be walking on the streets all alone”

“M-hm” I nodded, watching him go backwards as he waved at me “See you, babes!”

“Be careful!”

“Yes, dad” I shook my head, giggling at his antics.

Once he was out of the room, I heavily sighed and glanced back to where my paintings where. I studied them once more, pretending as if I was looking at them for the first time. Maybe the story that I wanted them to tell could be something else when a different eye observed them. Art is relative, and so were interpretations.

“W.H. Auden?”

His deep, raspy voice startled me once again, but this time I didn’t have to turn around to see him. He was right by my side. I could perceive his calm breaths while taking in the sight of my ‘intro’ piece, his eyes sparkling with something close to admiration, to esteem, to wonder.

“How’d you know that?”

“I like poetry” he softly smiled, tearing his gaze away from the painting to fixate his eyes on my own “It’s ‘The More Loving One’, right?”

“Wow… that’s… that’s impressive” I bit my lip, astonished by the man’s capacity of interpreting my intentions in mere seconds “I thought that nobody was going to get it”

“I just like art in general” he shrugged. We fell in a comfortable silence, both of us immersed in our own thoughts. However, the pianist was quick to keep the conversation flowing once again. “Let me guess… Looking up at the stars, I know quite well… That, for all they care, I can go to hell… But on earth indifference is the least… We have to dread from man or beast” he recited, with no rush and honeyed deep voice. He gently took my wrist with his hand and slowly directed me towards my second painting. My heartbeat rapidly increased upon feeling his warm touch, and I thanked Taehyung for letting me wear comfortable heels, or else I was soon going to end up collapsing on the floor “How should we like it were stars to burn… With a passion for us we could not return?… If equal affection cannot be… Let the more loving one be me.”

When we reached the following set of paintings, I was, by this time, in Cloud 9. Despite this, I still needed him to stop his astounding display of knowledge about my favourite poet, because he was already becoming something else for me. So I took over “Admirer as I think I am… Of stars that do not give a damn… I cannot, now I see them, say… I missed one terribly all day”

“Were all stars to disappear or die… I should learn to look at an empty sky… And feel its total dark sublime… Though this might take me a little time” he finished for me, as we arrived to the last trio of paintings “As much as I worship Auden, I disagree” he muttered, observing my ‘outro’ painting. “Do you think that love is fleeting and impermanent?”

“It depends… He’s talking about unrequited love, though. That kind of love should be fleeting and impermanent” I looked at him, studying his gorgeous features. He pressed his lips together and his brows snapped together, returning my gaze.

“Is unrequited love less than the requited one?”

“Of course it is” I chuckled “You cannot expect someone to love you just because you love them. You need to get over them, even if it takes you your whole life”

“Still… do you love someone any less when they do not love you back?”

“Not really. But the difference lays in the fact that you won’t ever get that with the person who doesn’t love you. Imagine having to deal with that kind of indifference just because you adore them”

“Wouldn’t you rather your lover be indifferent towards you when the other possibility left is hating you?”

“Oh, c’mon! Does self-love apply here?”

“I don’t think you ever get to love yourself more than a person that makes you feel alive” he replied, his velvety voice becoming deeper and mesmerizing, his eyes never leaving mine “Do you love yourself more than your lover?” Yoongi murmured, getting closer. Our breaths were now blending together, making it difficult to distinguish which was his and which mine.

“I-I don’t…” I stuttered, feeling the intensity of his eyes “I don’t have a… lover” I finally muttered back, unable to tear my eyes off of his.

“Let’s fix that, then”

Yoongi’s mouth found mine in a heavy, hot kiss. His lips took over mine without much effort, slowly angling his face to deepen it. I was quick to let him in, feeling how his soft tongue gradually brushed my own. I took the initiative, pulling him by the neck to get him closer, as if that was even possible by now. His hands gently caressed my hips, securely taking place on my lower back. I tugged my mouth away from his, trying to catch some air, but he was shortly after chasing my lips to pepper light kisses over them.

“I need…” I breathlessly muttered in between kisses “to close… down”

“I’ll help you” he replied, giving me one last, sloppy peck. “I’ll take you home after”

I could hardly close the door as soon as we entered my apartment. My hand was struggling, trying to get inside the lock as Yoongi peppered wet kisses down my neck while caressing my waist from behind me. A few minutes went by, my mind getting cloudier. He must have realized, because he chuckled against my neck, taking my shaking hand with his and rapidly locking the door “All set”

I turned around, taking his cheeks with my hands and directing his lips to mine, parting them to get better access to his hot mouth. I started walking, slowly but surely taking him down the corridor and right into my room, loudly closing the door once inside.

“Do you still agree with Auden?” Yoongi whispered, softly caressing my arm.

“M-hm” I muttered, fluttering my eyes open, throwing my leg over his own and getting closer to his collarbone “It is always better to be the one who loves.”

“Would you be willing to love even then, y/n?”

“One does not choose when, how or who they love, Yoongi” I detached myself from his chest, supporting my weight with my arm as I looked at him “And I think it’s better to love rather than being at the receiving end without even acknowledging it. It hurts, yes, but the feeling…”

“Yet he emphasizes the fact that he can, and will get over them. Is his love as strong as he claims?”

“It can be the strongest feeling, of course. Still, you cannot hang in there just because you are unable control it”

“Have you noticed that in those last lines, he openly admits he hadn’t missed them when they were gone? Is that what love is about?”

“If they hurt you, maybe” I yawned, going back to the comfort of his touch “You won’t miss them, but you still love them. It’s easy, young man”

“Is love easy?”

“Can you please shut your stunning mouth for a second, please? You’re the loudest hook up I’ve ever had”

“You were the loud one some minutes ago” he chuckled, caressing my back, and taking my chin with his hand. Making me look up, he left a couple of short but soft, tender kisses over my swollen lips.

“Goodnight, pianist”

“Goodnight, artist”

My phone woke me up from my slumber. Cold sheets met my hand, and I lifted my head from my pillow to take a look around my room.

He left.

I rejected whoever was calling me and got up from my bed, stretching out my limbs as I made my way to the living room. Empty.

Should have known that.

“It was just a hook up, y/n…” I murmured to myself, trying to get that in my head as fast as possible to avoid any kind of heartache. “He left as he shou-” I cut short my sentence when I noticed a scribbled piece of paper on my coffee table that wasn’t there the day before. I quickly took it, a smile plastered on my lips as soon as I started reading.

‘Last night I slept, and when I woke her kiss Still floated on my lips. For we had strayed Together in my dream, through some dim glade, Where the shy moonbeams scarce dared light our bliss. The air was dank with dew, between the trees, The hidden glow-worms kindled and were spent. Cheek pressed to cheek, the cool, the hot night-breeze Mingled our hair, our breath, and came and went, As sporting with our passion. Low and deep Spake in mine ear her voice: “And didst thou dream, This could be buried? This could be sleep? And love be thrall to death! Nay, whatso seem, Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is!” Thereon I woke, and on my lips her kiss.

Let’s meet again.

Min Yoongi’

in case you’re wondering, the poems featured here are ‘the more loving one’ by w.h. auden and ‘assurance’ by emma lazarus.

hope you enjoyed!

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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Filling the Met Shaped Hole (No, Not Like That): The Best Red Carpet Looks of Awards Season 2020

Hi to anyone reading,

I want to jump straight into things and ask a question. Which is the best Met Gala theme of the last 5 years and why is it Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination?

Seriously though, despite the fact that I’m not sure anything will top Heavenly Bodies with the preceding and succeeding Met Galas being relatively disappointing (the camp theme definitely could have been taken further and lets not even talk about the Comme Des Garcons disaster), I still get excited for the gala every year, staying up til whatever hour of the morning so I can see all the fashion live. Of course, it makes complete sense that this year’s event has been postponed until October given the circumstances but the chosen theme of Fashion and Duration had the potential to be quite interesting, so I hope we do eventually get to see it; whilst I don’t miss endlessly scrolling through photos of every white male celebrity wearing the exact same suit and tie to the point where fangirls claim Harry Styles to be a pioneer of breaking gender norms because he wore a pink top, I long for the days where we could all temporarily coexist in peace and harmony thanks to the internet’s collective dragging of the Kardashians for paying no attention to the theme whatsoever. We should’ve guessed life as we know it was about to be flipped on its head when they actually turned up in something interesting last year.

What I’m trying to say is that I would love nothing more than to jump back in time to when tomorrow morning’s top Google search would be best Met Gala looks, and not how many lives did Boris Johnson’s fuckery cost us today. So in honour of the lack of trivial content, I thought I’d fill the Met shaped hole in our lives (amongst many other unfilled holes; today the freezer door at work hit me on the ass whilst I was putting ice cubes out and I think for a split second I got all flushed) by putting together a collection of my personal favourite red carpet looks from this year’s awards season and their respective afterparties: the BAFTAs, Brits, Critic’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Oscars, SAG Awards, and the Grammys to finish with.

Enjoy!

British Academy of Film and Television Arts Award (yes, that’s the BAFTAs but I needed a longer title)

(L-R: Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy, and Scarlett Johansson in Versace)

I am a British fan of television and arts but I will gladly say it: of all the awards ceremonies, the BAFTAs is hardly the most exciting, and the red carpet even less so. As I said, lots of boring men in boring suits and middle aged women being dressed by stylists who seem to think we’re dead from the neck down by the time we hit 40 and dress us accordingly so. Any hint of a décolletage explicitly forbidden.

There were a few good looks, however. From left to right, above we have Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy and Scarlett Johansson in Versace, who looks so amazing I almost forget that 1). Versace is going down the drain and 2). Scarlett Johansson would stand in front of a forest and take the role of a tree if she could. Which, along with her whole defence of Woody Allen, is really shit-she’s genuinely great in Marriage Story and an otherwise talented actress. As for Zoe Kravitz, she is up there with Robert Pattison as one of my biggest crushes right now and looks amazing in literally everything she wears, and Rooney Mara is consistently low-key yet elegantly dressed.

(L-R: Greta Gerwig in Gucci, Florence Pugh in Dries Van Noten, Renee Zellweger in Prada)

Renee Zellweger proved an exception to the rule when it came to women over the age of 40 generally having clueless stylists-her dress is beautiful, very reminiscent of the delicate, demure beauty of 50s icons such as Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. Florence’s dress, I actually really loved. It didn’t seem to go down all too well with actual Florence Pugh fans but red and pink together is an elite combo; I’m still firmly on the “surprised that it works but I’m into it” train. I mainly included Greta’s dress for the green velvet, to be honest; it’s disappointingly low-key for Gucci but nice enough all the same.

(L-R: Andrew Scott in Paul Smith, Charlize Theron in Dior, Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta, and Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli)

I was particularly excited to see Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli-yes, I adore her because she played Daenerys Targaryen and I was ride or die for that bitch but also whenever I see her interviewed she has the most exuberant energy and honestly I want to be best friends. It’s not the most interesting dress Schiaparelli has ever put out there, but I like the fact that she went for something unique all the same.

Forest green is a colour I find hard to resist which is why I included Andrew Scott’s otherwise kinda basic suit (points for it being velvet) and Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta. As elegant as the dress is, I would love for her stylist to have really leaned into the forest nymph vibes I’m getting and do something a bit less uptight with the hair and makeup; like imagine loose curls with tiny braids and hair rings and a dark lip and a slight smoke around the eye and...yes, I have very specific visions, I know. As for Charlize Theron, her work with Dior is the only reason I care about the brand; there’s definitely a case to be made here for giving Maria Grazia the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she tries all the prototypes on women who look like Charlize and that that’s why she’s happy to send dresses that are otherwise relatively underwhelming down the runway.

The Brit Awards

(L-R: Charli XCX in Fendi, Ellie Goulding in Koche, Hailee Steinfeld in Fendi, and Harry Styles in Gucci)

In my opinion a much better reflection of quintessential British style than the BAFTAs, I originally ruled out including any music award ceremony red carpets in this post until I saw Maya Jama and Charli XCX’s looks. Consider me pleasantly surprised by Hailee Steinfeld’s cobalt blue burnout dress, a classic incarnation of the regal bohemian aesthetic Fendi channelled in their 2019 haute couture show. Plus Charli’s emo take on Glinda the Good Witch is also Fendi, driving home for me just how much I love their collections. I don’t know if I’d be sure about Ellie Goulding’s dress on the rack but the simple styling makes it work and she looks gorgeous, and Harry Styles looks just as pretty in a Gucci look that is MADE for him.

(L-R: Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood, Celeste in Gucci on the far right! I’m not sure who the guy in the middle is, I’m sorry and if anybody knows drop me a message and I will correct this immediately!)

Unfortunately, Harry Styles and Celeste didn’t get to pose together because this is really a perfect his and hers Gucci look; I feel like seeing one outfit next to the other would really highlight the quirky elegance of each. That being said, it feels criminal to talk about elegance without including Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood in the sentence; the dress is obviously stunning quality on its own merit, but Adwoah is what elevates it from unremarkable to ethereal. Fuck the weird ass knight figure that’s currently on top of the Brit Award, this woman is the definition of statuesque! Put her on top of the trophy you cowards!

And just to get it out of the way, when it comes to the guy in the middle, to quote Keke Palmer:

Sorry to this man.

Honestly, I saved all the red carpet photos from a Nylon (I think it was Nylon?) article back when the awards aired and towards the end of the photos they stopped including names-this happened a few times when I was looking through red carpet galleries. I reverse image searched where I could but not every photo turned anything up. If anyone does know who this man is, message me so I can include his name. He looks sick, and as far as suits go, this one is built upon and accessorised enough that it’s actually a look rather than the same old variation of a suit we’ve seen a million times before that may as well be the straight man’s designated red carpet uniform.

(L-R: Maya Jama, Neh Neh Cherry in Bottega Veneta, Laura Whitmore)

And now the woman that forced me to include the Brits red carpet in this post in the first place: Maya Jama. Don’t get me wrong, my mind isn’t blown by this dress on its own, I probably prefer Laura Whitmore’s (Jaded do a similar newspaper dress and I’ve resisted adding it to my basket for 6 months now, this is the ultimate test of whether or not I finally cave), but Maya looks fucking MAGNIFICENT. The fit, the gloves, the confidence with which she carries it, it’s all SO good. Considering the timing, this is basically her Princess Diana revenge dress levelled up, 2020′s Jessica Rabbit moment.

(L-R: Maya Jama, Ellie Goulding, Kendall Jenner)

Obviously anything is gonna be a step down from the red carpet look but Maya’s Brits afterparty outfit was cute too, if a tad Pretty Little Thing.

Don’t ask me what Kendall Jenner was doing at the Brits afterparty btw, because I have no idea. We live in a world where the Kardashian-Jenners just seem to occupy every public space possible and I’ve begrudgingly accepted it at this point. I don’t have the energy to question it-and it helps that green catsuit is actually Very Cool™.

For the last of my favourite Brit Awards looks, we have a few more afterparty photos-from left to right we have Charli XCX again, Lizzo, and Anne Marie. It was Charli posting her dress on Instagram that sent me searching for afterparty looks in the first place; apparently wearing nothing but feathers and crystals is something that appeals to me, and the more I read that statement, the more it sounds spot-on. I’d categorise it as gothic glamour hoe, and slot it in with the rest of the night-out clothes in my wardrobe that I think I’ll finally have the balls to wear out of sheer desperation once this lockdown is over. The Blossom to Charli XCX’s Buttercup here, we’ve also got Anne Marie looking extra AF and I loveeeee it; it’s an ensemble somewhere between a high-end version of Alaska Thunderfuck’s candyfloss Sugar Ball dress from season 5 of Drag Race (Alaska DID deserve to win AS2 nation, rise up) and a low-key version of a Katy Perry California Dreams Tour costume. I don’t call it low-key as a drag, just a regretful admission of the fact that maybe wearing a cupcake bra which squirts whipped cream out of the boobs is a bit too much for most of us.

Critic’s Choice Awards

(L-R: Alison Brie in Brandon Maxwell, Chloe Bridges in Azeeza, Cynthia Erivo in Fendi, Florence Pugh in Prada)

I was going to say the Critic’s Choice Awards is kind of America’s version of the BAFTAs but then I remembered that the BAFTAs is really the only big TV and film awards ceremony we have here in the UK and that it’s kind of sad that I have to compare our most high-profile red carpet of the year to L.A’s most low-key one. Getting Cynthia Erivo and Florence Pugh to infiltrate is the best we can do.

THAT BEING SAID!

They both look amazing. This is Florence’s best red carpet look of this year, imo (she the prettiest icicle I’ve ever seen), and Cynthia Erivo’s arm must ache from serving the entire awards season. And in Fendi! Taste!

Side note before we move onto the next set of looks: has anybody else watched Alison Brie in Mad Men and Community simultaneously and experienced the extreme cognitive dissonance that comes from watching her play a tragically nerdy (relatable tbh) 18 year old and an overly-sophisticated 30 something married to an ad man in the 60s at the same time? Weird, but anyway! The orange dress with the red lipstick is channelling Marina Diamandis’ Froot era style subtle sex appeal and is a timeless, playful combo. Put the hair up into a beehive and it’s Megan Draper on a date in Cabo-don’t know much about the place but I know the sea is aqua and the sun seekers are blindingly white and the cocktails are plentiful (and whatever colour you want them to be), and all that together is a juicy palette if we’re talking cinematography. The Mad Men directors are out there somewhere shaking their fists at the sky that they never got to consult me on that, I’m sure.

(L-R: Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Erdem and Zendaya in Tom Ford)

Zendaya’s red carpet look was the stand out of the Critic’s Choice Awards for sure; the skirt I can do without but I hope that hot pink metal breastplate ends up on display somewhere because that is ART, and she is the perfect person to wear it. The Tiffany Pollard “she's so powerful” meme was made for this moment.

Also, can we talk about Phoebe Waller-Bridge backing up my Dior 2019 Haute Couture wasn’t *that* bad hypothesis? Because unless I’m mistaken this is one of the dresses from that collection and it is quite beautiful. Yeah, black mesh isn’t going to start a revolution or anything but it’s so delicate looking it almost seems out of place on a red carpet-I don’t know if it’s the structure of the bodice or the tulle but I can totally see this in a gothic ballet, whether that’s sensible in theory or not. Probably not. But then again I did quit ballet when I was 10 after months of getting people to near poke me in the eye on the way out of class so it would look like I’d been crying and I didn’t have to go to my lessons after school. So what do I know? Fuck all, in case that wasn’t clear. I also feel a little vindicated by Saoirse wearing one of the Erdem dresses I loved from last year’s collection-if multi-award winning actress Saoirse Ronan’s probably ridiculously well-paid stylist liked it enough to pick it out for her then I guess I’m doing okay in terms of taste levels.

(L-R: Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab, and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

The last few Critics Choice Awards looks I picked out above aren’t thrilling or anything but they’re cute enough to include-from left to right we have Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab and Margaret Qualley in Chanel. It’s kind of besides the point, but Margaret worked with Chanel throughout awards season and I just wanted to add my two cents in here and say that I think she’s the perfect person to collaborate with (also think Laura Harrier would be a good match, anyone agree?) and that in a similar vein, I urge Miu Miu, the creative directors of which I’m sure are eagerly awaiting the opinion of irrelevant Tumblr user amphtaminedreams, to work with Lucy Hale more often. I feel like if girl stopped starring in those shitty Blumhouse horrors and did something a bit more sophisticated she’d fit the brand right down to a T.

The Golden Globes

(L-R: Cynthia Erivo in Thom Browne, Dakota Fanning in Dior, Jane Levy in Steven Khalil, and Janina Gavankar in Georges Chakra)

Finally! I hear you cry! A more exciting red carpet! It’s not the Oscars, but celebrity stylists still pulled the big guns for this one, the Golden Globes probably being considered the second most prestigious American awards ceremony of the year. Plus Dakota Fanning was there! Big yay for me! She and Elle can practically do no wrong in my eyes and are probably the only 2 women that could take on Dakota Johnson and Jennifer Lawrence when it comes to established red carpet style.

Cynthia Erivo did it again, of course, as slick, as dignified and as regal as she was at the Critic’s Choice. The woman really has got this power stance thing locked down; she always seems so cool and confident in everything she wears that the whole getting dressed up to go out out out (we call going to the club going “out out”, but I’d say a red carpet is a slightly bigger deal than my local club with the sticky floors hence the 3rd out) thing looks like second nature.

(L-R: Zoey Deutch in Fendi, Karamo Brown in Grayscale, Lucy Boynton in Louis Vuitton and Kat Graham in Georges Hobeika)

Lucy Boynton was another of my Golden Globes stand outs, and in general is someone who I really look forward to seeing at red carpet events. She (or her stylist, I don’t know how much of a role she plays!) always seems to commit fully to an outfit and sees it as part of a whole concept where the makeup, hair and accessories are equally as important and that is a girl after my own heart. 60s space age empress is the theme here and I’m all about it-well, either that or a feminine editorial take on the tinman from the Wizard of Oz but the former sounds a bit cooler and does way more justice to how good she looks so we’ll go with that. Quick shoutout to Kat Graham too because she looked absolutely radiant.

(L-R: Shailene Woodley in Balmain, Winnie Harlow in Laquan Smith, and Zoe Kravitz in Saint Laurent)

The trio above I really couldn’t skim over, Winnie Harlow especially; my America’s Next Top Model grudges aside, she consistently turns it out at every event she’s invited to. She’s another woman that wears pieces with such confidence that they look like they were actually made on her body-even if the garment itself isn’t the most breathtaking in the room, she’s the one that draws my attention. Though she’s got these dainty, other-worldly qualities about her, what you’d expect to be a gentle presence is firm and commanding and whilst the sharp drama and glitz of the dress probably helps, that’s just the way Winnie Harlow is naturally, based on her other red carpet appearances.

Zoe Kravitz is an interesting one because, on the one hand, her looking amazing with that bone structure (I would trade a vital organ to look like that any day) is a given, but it does also seem like she went out of her way to do something a bit different this past awards season. I have always loved her street style for its trademark edge and the androgynous, oversized silhouettes that she leans towards, and the overt femininity of her red carpet dresses is that grungy, skater girl aesthetic completely flipped on its head. It’s cute, and if anyone can pull a dress as kitschy as this off, it’s Zoe. She’s got that just rolled out of bed look we all dream of that screams “I’m over this shit” whereas the rest of us have to rely on dark circles to get the message across. It’s very weird to think that she and Shailene Woodley were in Divergent together, especially since Zoe in particular has changed so much since.

My main note with Shailene was just that I got excited to see that Balmain dress off the runway-it was one of my favourites from the S/S 2020 collection (IIRC, mostly on the basis that I’m pretty sure it wan’t haute couture), and it looks good! Not wildly good because I’m not sure the fit of the dress is inherently all that flattering, but still good-she makes it work.

(L-R: Taylor Swift in Etro, Sofia Carson in Giambattista Valli and Scarlett Johansson in Vera Wang)

I know a lot of people online didn’t seem to like Taylor Swift’s dress, but she looks cute, imo. I will say that I’m surprised it’s Etro! At first glance I would’ve thought Carolina Herrera or Oscar de la Renta or something along those lines. And predictably, I think Sofia Carson looks flawless. If you’ve read any of my other posts you’re probably sick of hearing it but I really can’t resist anything that is this modern Disney princess, like powder pink layered tulle? Feathers? What did you expect me to say, ew? I think deep down my clothing preferences will always be that of a 9 year old girl and you know what, that’s okay. Sometimes. Well, when it comes to red carpets. That’s when you can kinda get away with it.

(L-R: Bell Powley in Miu Miu, Billy Porter in Alex Vinash, and Charlize Theron in Dior)

There’s a few things worth mentioning when it comes to the above outfits. Firstly, and most importantly, I need to proclaim my love for Billy Porter. No man is doing it like him, honestly. To compare Harry Styles in his pink suits is unfair. The drama and the beauty and the flair that Billy brings every awards ceremony is on another level and that’s all I have to say about that. If you disagree, I’m gonna need a bullet pointed essay-I am that firm in my opinion.

Second, Bell Powley in Miu Miu semi confirms the direction their PR team tend to head in when choosing women to work with. I might be totally alone here but I feel like she and Lucy Hale both have one of those porcelain doll faces which work really well with Miu Miu’s signature girlish silhouettes and overly-ornate details.

And thirdly, just to restate my earlier point: someone give Charlize Theron a pat on the back for bringing some life to a Dior design. That is all.

(L-R: Jodie Comer in Mary Katrantzou, Joey King in Schiaparelli and Kaitlyn Dever in Valentino)

All the newcomers really turned it out too, which is a sentence I type through gritted teeth; to call Jodie Comer of My Mad Fat Diary origins a newcomer pains the former depressing 2013 black and white Tumblr user in me, though I suppose to the US audiences uncultured in the ways of British teenage angst Vilanelle is her breakthrough role. And how Vilanelle is this dress too!? It’s bold and it’s attention-grabbing and it’s fun and it is definitely very theatrical female fictional villain that you were inexplicably drawn to as a child before you realised why as an adult-”oh, it’s because she was hot”.

Joey King in Iris van Herpen was a pleasant surprise too considering that when I first looked through the red carpet photos I only knew her as the girl who was in that shitty Netflix original-having watched her in The Act, I apologise for the dismissal! And I admire the sartorial choice! I adore Iris van Herpen designs but as a short girl, wearing one of her dresses to a red carpet event is a risky decision-I hate to admit it because casting a diverse range of people for shows is something I have come to expect of my favourite brands, but the appeal of a lot of IvH pieces comes from the movement of the garments on standard willowy runway models. Fortunately, the styling is really complementary here, and whilst it can’t be denied that the dress itself does swamp her a bit, I liked that she and her stylist stepped out of the box.

Kaitlyn Dever’s red carpet look is obviously a lot more typical, but you can't go wrong with a Valentino dress, and this one in particular is so suited to the aura she gives off-it’s young and it’s fun and it’s fresh and the intricate floral print, otherwise muted if not for the spring influenced pops of pink and red, is timelessly pretty.

(L-R: Akwafina in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Celine, Beanie Feldstein in Oscar de la Renta, and Renee Zellweger in Armani)

Lastly, there was Saoirse Ronan in Celine-one of my highlights of the night; she looked phenomenal, a glacial toned dream, and it was pretty different to what I generally expect to see her in. I might be way off base and in need of a bit of a review of her red carpet style, but I feel like she usually leans more towards pretty than edgy with regards to her styling at these kinds of events and a loose fitting, gun metal glittered slip dress is, imo, the perfect way to hit that previously uncharted midway point between the two.

(L-R: Kate Bosworth in Prabal Gurung, Kathryn Newton in Valentino and Sarah Hyland)

Now onto the afterparty looks, and I’m not gonna lie, they’re usually the highlight of the ceremonies for me; I feel like the initial ceremony is all about looking respectful and maintaining that whole dedicated actor image, whereas it seems the literal point of these showbiz parties is a competition to be the best dressed person in the room. Competition really makes people step their game up, and we always get to see more young talent whose style tends to be more current than that of the people we see on the red carpet.

I’ve got to say, as annoying as I found her character in The Society, I have to overlook that gut instinct of irritation when I see Kathryn Newton and accept how stunning everything going on here is; honestly, she looks like an angel, and I feel like the team at Valentino must reeeeally like her to put her in that dress.

(L-R: Alexa Demie, Ashley Benson in Georges Hobeika, Maude Apatow and Barbie Ferreira)

Obviously I was super excited to see the Euphoria girls on the red carpet, especially Alexa Demie-she does 90s/early noughties inspired glamour better than anyone else on the young actor scene right now and her personal style and the sass she does so well as Maddy Perez shines through every time. Whilst Barbie Ferreira’s look is more casual and achievable for the rest of us in terms of wearability, it’s just as interesting a take on the same period; the delicate pink makeup, hair and jewellery with the 90s inspired slip dress in light teal is a red carpet take on soft grunge for the ages. As for Ashley Benson, she always looks gorgeous and that’s all I’m gonna say before I get emotional and start going into a rant about how her and Cara Delevigne’s relationship was one of the only good things about this shitshow of a year and how now that they’ve broken up the single flame of hope inside me has been extinguished and how their sex swing is gonna get so lonely with them caught in the middle of an ugly custody battle and-

You get the idea.

(L-R: Storm Reid, Sophia Bush in John Paul Ataker, and Sydney Sweeney)

(L-R: Billie Lourd, Paris Hilton, and Camila Morrone)

The Oscars

(L-R: Charlize Theron in Dior, Cynthia Erivo, and Florence Pugh in Louis Vuitton)

Ah, the Oscars. This is where the big money is really spent, and bad decisions are made-in fairness, this year’s winners were a lot more satisfying than usual and I think all of us felt that Parasite was a well-deserved win. I really thought it was gonna be Once Upon a Time in Hollywood just as a bit of a token gesture to Tarantino considering it’s his 9th film, though undoubtedly his worst of the ones I’ve seen, so I was relieved that this wasn’t the case. That being said, it still pains me to see the horror genre being ignored by the academy-in my mind, Florence is here for her performance in Midsommar just as much as Little Women.

At the risk of getting repetitive, just assume my opinions on Charlize Theron in Dior here are the same again, that Cynthia Erivo is still bringing goddess energy (this is probably my favourite of her looks), and that against the opinion of the masses, Florence looks divine in this colour. I mean, when I say the masses I just mean the people I follow on Twitter, but still, I just wanted be an excuse to be dramatic so that I could insert a meme.

(L-R: Natalie Portman in Dior, Regina King in Versace, Scarlett Johansson in Oscar de la Renta, and Sandra Oh in Elie Saab)

Once again, Scarlett Johansson’s stylist is doing God’s work; this outfit is everythingggg-the Oscar de la Renta dress is probably my favourite thus far. Like we’re talking angel, but make it fitted and sexy, and I hope you read that in the Tyra Banks voice I intended because 2 memes in a row would rob me of any credibility I’m building as a fashion account and I’m not ready to trash that for bad memes just yet; give it a couple of mental breakdowns and I’ll be there. Natalie Portman’s look was a favourite of mine too, with the cape over the top adding a sophisticated touch to the celestial, slightly bohemian feel of the dress. I initially found the detail of the names embroidered into said cape to be quite moving-in a dream world, directing would be my career of choice and so I really admired the statement-but finding out that Portman herself is the only director hired by her own production company ruined that for me a little bit. Then again, multi-millionaire celebrities making performative gestures for good publicity and not doing all that much to make any real change? Colour me shocked.

(L-R: Beanie Feldstein in Miu Miu, Brie Larson in Celine and Billie Eilish in Chanel)

Now, of all the Miu Miu looks so far, I think Beanie Feldstein definitely got the best one. The intricacy of the embroidery, the silhouette, the old Hollywood stye curls-it’s all so graceful. I’d say this is probably her best look of awards season and she and her stylist did a really great job.

And as for Billie Eilish...Guys...do you think she might be wearing...Chanel...by any chance? I’m not sure.

Seriously though, as far as an oversized tweed suit with the brand’s logo emblazoned all over it goes, I like this look. The acid green roots and the jewellery are what make it for me, adding to the grunginess of the outfit which is interesting against Chanel’s prim and proper aesthetic of the last few years. I know she has good reason for the way she dresses, but I’ve never quite been able to appreciate it-this outfit proves to me that her style doesn't automatically equal ugly and occasionally, she can make it work.

(L-R: Leona Lewis, Colton Haynes, Dita von Teese)

Elton John’s Oscars afterparty being the less exciting of the two big ones in terms of fashion-the other being the Vanity Fair afterparty which I’ll cover in a moment-I thought I’d whizz through it (posturing aside though, I bet Sir Elton’s party was a lot more fun).

(L-R: Chiara Ferragni, Donatella Versace, Bella Thorne)

This is a big statement considering Alexa Demie attended, but I think Chiara’s outfit and overall styling might be my favourite of the partygoers; if they decided to do a live action Barbie film in 2020 minus the PG ratio-because lets be real, she’d be a noughties Paris Hilton type and get up to some SHENANIGANS-this is the look that would become iconic.

(L-R: Ashley Greene in Off-White, Alexa Demie, Sydney Sweeney, Annalynne McCord)

It was a hard decision to make though: I’m just as into Sydney Sweeney’s interpretation of burlesque come 1950s red carpet Barbie, Ashley Greene’s surprisingly delicate Off-White number, and Alexa’s dress and (as always) impeccable styling. That being said, Chiara’s clearest contender here for the best dressed of the night is Annalynne McCord. I know I'm one to throw similes around but she looks like an ACTUAL Disney princess-the dress is magical and an absolutely flawless fit. She carries it with such grace. I'm truly in love.

(L-R: Tessa Thompson in Versace, Vanessa Hudgens in Vera Wang, SZA)

As for the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty, there were SO many iconic moments this year. SZA was the definition of the fire emoji, Tessa Thompson’s throwback Versace was the mermaid’s take on BDSM fashion I never knew I need to see, and I’d die to turn up to my graduation ceremony (here’s hoping for a successful attempt at the old uni shebang this time, lol) looking as elegant and simultaneously extra as Vanessa Hudgens did in Vera Wang. I mean, this was before Vanessa went on her dumb Instagram live corona rant because she was upset she couldn’t go to Coachella and I still kinda lived for her, mostly because of moments like this. She’s always been the queen of channelling a more hedonistic, carefree era and this dress is the most refined example of that boho decadence yet. It sounds dramatic to say but the rich purple is such a bold choice considering it’s a a colour we rarely see on the red carpet but now I’ve seen eggplant coloured silk I need it, lol.

(L-R: Suki Waterhouse in Fendi, Lili Reinhart in Marc Jacobs, Lucy Boynton and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

Then there was Suki, Lilly, Lucy and Margaret as well who all went full angel mode in some of my favourite runway looks of last summer’s haute couture week; Suki’s Fendi dress and Lili’s Marc Jacobs number were highlights of both their shows and there’s something even more magical about them both when the uniformity of the runway is removed. I also would go on about how much I love Lucy Boynton’s style for the millionth time but I think you get my point.

(L-R: Nicole Richie, Cynthia Erivo, Hunter Schafer, Billie Porter)

The more I look at the photos I saved from the Vanity Fair “red” carpet, the more I come to the firm conclusion that these looks are my favourite as a collective. Along with the elegance and sex appeal of the outfits above, we’ve got all these looks too which are so VIBRANT and fun and experimental. Billie Porter is absolutely majestic and continues his reign as the king of in-your-face, theatrical red carpet style, and Hunter and Cynthia look so radiant. Whilst Nicole’s look isn’t as colourful, she still brought drama with the satin gloves and the smoke lined eyes, and she is definitely ready to step on someone’s neck here.

(L-R: Halima Aden, Ella Balinska in Schiaparelli, Emma Roberts, Ciara)

(L-R: Kiki Layne in Michael Kors, Kim Kardashian in Alexander McQueen, Kylie Jenner in Ralph and Russo, Lashana Lynch in Michael Kors)

(L-R: Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Stella Maxwell, and Sarah Paulson with Holland Taylor)

I’ve got to say, it’s really cool to see Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen too; it’s interesting that as far as I know, she and Joey King were the only ones to wear her this awards season, both being up and coming actresses. It would be a good choice for the brand, probably best known for its futuristic, conceptual aesthetic, to also focus its PR efforts on the young potential inheriting that future. Orrrr it could just be that Rowan, Joey and I have the same (good, lol) taste-not gonna lie, from my experience of stalking her instagram Rowan Blanchard does make some unique fashion choices and her feed is full of bold outfit inspiration.

(L-R: Adriana Lima in Ralph and Russo, Alessandra Ambrosio in Armani, Billie Eilish in Gucci, and Donatella Versace in Versace)

Then there’s Billie Eilish, who is really on another level. This is her second custom made baggy suit of the night, this time Gucci. IMAGINE. Chanel and Gucci making custom pieces to suit your very specific style. Again, though, I really like this; whilst it’s very clearly a Billie outfit, it’s got a level of sophistication, cohesiveness and glamour to it that takes it to that I can admire.

(L-R: Camila Mendes in Moschino, Barbara Palvin and Dylan Sprouse, and Chiara Ferragni)

Honestly, the Vanity Fair red carpet really belonged to young talent this year, and Camila Mendes in one of my favourite Moschino looks from the Picasso collection really seals it. She could’ve just gone for a basic pretty dress-this isn’t a natural choice-but she really does have the proud, regal look of a woman who knows some man is gonna paint her a portrait that will end up in a famous gallery one day.

One last thing before I move on, though. How the fuck does Chiara Ferragni get everywhere?! And by that I don’t mean how does she get invited, I had the shock of finding out this woman I followed on Instagram because I liked her outfits and thought she was pretty is a hugely successful businesswoman in Italy long ago. Power to her. She’s a big deal! I get it! I just mean, physically HOW? How do you hit Elton John’s party AND the Vanity Fair party in one night and look this good? God really does have favourites, huh. Well, I guess in this hypothetical scenario where I believe in him anyway.

The SAG Awards

(L-R: Dakota Fanning in Valentino, Kaitlyn Dever in Ralph Lauren, Scarlett Johansson in Armani, and Zoe Kravitz in Oscar de la Renta)

So, I kinda forgot the SAG awards existed and thought that my post was basically finished before I looked in my folder and saw the one dedicated to this ceremony. My initial reaction was like “oh, this is the shitty Oscars, right?” and I assumed the red carpet would be shit and that I could call it a night-it’s 3:30am, I wish I was calling it a night-but then I looked and saw that I had even more outfit photos saved in that folder than I did for my Oscar dedicated one. Because fuck, I want to to sleep, but the SAG awards had a surprisingly good turn out?! So maybe not as irrelevant a ceremony as I thought? Because Dakota Fanning turned up looking like some divine mythical being again, Scarlett Johansson pulled another incredible look out the bag, Zoe Kravitz was a modernised Audrey Hepburn, and Kaitlyn Dever read my comments about her dress being “timelessly pretty” and said “bitch, you really thought” before showing up looking hot as fuck. Truth be told, I think the SAG awards were first but in this universe where Kaitlyn Dever would pay any attention to my opinion of her outfit do we really care?

(L-R: America Ferrera, Andrew Scott in Azzaro Couture, Camila Mendes in Ralph and Russo, Caleb McLaughlin )

(L-R: Lupita Nyongo in Louis Vuitton, Lily Allen, Nathalie Emmanuel in Miu Miu, Cynthia Erivo in Schiaparelli)

See, I was going to make a comment above how I took back what I said about Camila Mendes not just going for pretty dresses (which I guess I just did here instead-JUST TO BE CLEAR SHE STILL LOOKS STUNNING) and then I uploaded the next photo set and got distracted by 2 things:

1. How weird it is that British legend Lily Allen, who does not get NEAR enough credit for her smart her songs were might I add, is dating David Harbour AKA. Hopper off Stranger Things!?

2. How mad I still am about Game of Thrones and how dirty the writers did Nathalie Emmanuel (and Emilia Clarke and Lena Heady and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and basically everyone else on that show but that’s another story).

In this same universe where Kaitlyn Dever cares about my opinion can we make the issues I have in the last bullet point not exist? Please?

(L-R: Sophie Turner in Louis Vuitton, Renee Zellweger in Maison Margiela, Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Armani, and Renee Bargh)

(L-R: Gwendoline Christie in Rick Owens, Madeline Brewer in Monique Lhuillier, Kathryn Newton in Valentino, and Lili Reinhart in Miu Miu)

Finishing off the SAG looks, we’ve got the four above.

Once again, Kathryn Newton was Valentino’s blushing crown jewell; Allie Pressman hate aside, she really is the perfect dressing up doll for the brand. Fresh faced and poised, she has all the elegance and gentle femininity necessary to make floating down the runway as Valentino models do look natural, and Lili Reinhart did an equally good job being a Miu Miu girl. She makes that idiosyncratic cutesy-ness work, all the frills and fragility of a china tea set look easy where I’d just look like I’d been consumed by a charity shop doily. Madeline Brewer did a good job too, helping a Monique Lhuillier design pop in a way that it doesn’t usually. When your hair is bright red and your dress cerulean blue, coral tinted lipstick is a *ahem* choice, buuut in this case it paid off because the result is a look which demanded my attention-ML dresses are reliably pretty, however, they tend to be predictable. Madeline and her styling did a good job subverting that formula. To end the section, though, I feel it’s only fair to save my fave woman til last-probably one of the few people in the world that isn’t a Rick Owens model that can pull off his designs. Ofc, I’m talking about the queen that is Gwendoline Christie. If we’re talking embodying brands, she did justice like nobody else could to the spectacle of Owens’ formidable, out-of-this-world aesthetic. This is her version of the princess moment, and when you’re as striking as she is, nothing less would do.

At least my girl Brienne of Tarth is thriving<3

The Grammys

(L-R: Ariana Grande in Giambattista Valli, Cardi B in Mugler, and Pia Mia in Julien Macdonald)

TBH, like I said with the Brits, I never planned to do any music award ceremony red carpets, just because I feel like the fashion tends to be more geared towards a younger audience buuuut I’m kinda glad I changed because Ariana looks INCREDIBLE. MESMERISING. TRANSCENDENT. JFC. There’s a reason the photo of her on her Wiki page has been changed to one from this night and it’s because she looks absolutely exquisite, like some kind of moon goddess with an R&B touch which I suppose is kind of her brand? Sometimes I go kind of lukewarm on Giambattista Valli and forget how mystical but at the same time frothy and indulgent and all around luxurious the pieces can be. This is a cupcake of a dress and I want to eat it. Cardi B has become a bit of an unexpected fashion icon and Pia Mia looks as hot-party-girl as ever but I feel to put anyone next to Ariana in this dress seems harsh because she just completely stole the show and I don’t even know if she won any Grammys.

(L-R: Josephine Relli, Gwen Stefani, Jameela Jamil in Georges Chakra, and Chrissy Teigen in Yanina Couture)

Other than Ariana, I’m not gonna lie, there was nothing wildly exciting, BUT I did think there were some beautiful colours out on the runway-plus for all her occasionally bad takes I really like what Jameela Jamil stands for and her style has always been very quirky cool. The electric blue tiled effect with the black mesh underneath kinda reminds me of a peacock, and contrasts wonderfully with the carpet-it’s very reminiscent of her T4 days. She’s one of those people that seems to get aggression directed at her that’s completely disproportionate to whatever it is she’s supposed to have done; sometimes the way she goes about saying things is wrong but the intention behind what she’s saying is usually good. Then again, the internet still despises Chrissy Teigen (in a way that’s kind of excessive considering what we seem to collectively let some people get away with) for a dumb AirPods tweet and I’ve included her too. THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL STATEMENT, this time anyway. I just think she looks good!

If I’m going to get controversial about anything, it’ll be Gwen Stefani. She looks stunning, the dress is stunning, and the boots are stunning. The outfit is not my problem! My problem is how she seems not to have aged at all. This woman is 50 years old! That she drank the blood of her Harajuku girls is the only explanation here. Can you imagine if she tried to pull that shit today? She’d get rightly accused of being a culturally appropriating weeb in about 10 seconds flat and we’d have to pretend to stop liking Cool and Hollaback Girl.

(L-R: Finneas O’Connell in Gucci, Lucky Daye, and Shaun Ross)

(L-R: Tess Holliday, Dua Lipa in Alexander Wang, Tyler the Creator, and Grace Elizabeth in Giuseppe di Morabito)

Back to what I’m supposed to be talking about in this blog post: the fashion. And here, most importantly, Tyler the Creator looking like a cast member of the Grand Budapest Hotel. IDK why. But I love this man.

(L-R: Lil Nas X in Versace, Lizzo in Versace, and Shawn Mendes in Louis Vuitton)

(L-R: Billie Porter, FKA Twigs in Ed Marler, and Swae Lee in Giuseppe Zanotti)

See in general, the men were a lot more interesting on the Grammys red carpet. With the exception of Twigs, Dua and obviously Ariana, the men’s outfits are a lot more memorable; Billie Porter became the most fashionable meme on the internet, for god’s sake. And even when their outfits weren’t extravagant, they were just more interesting, imo, which is a rare occurrence. I didn’t expect Finneas O’Connell to be the writing half of Billie Eilish (the other half being Billie herself) I cared about and yet, in that Gucci blazer, here we are.

(L-R: Jessie J, Hailee Steinfeld, and Madison Beer)

(L-R: H.E.R, Usher, FKA Twigs, and Matt Shultz)

Of the afterparty looks, my favourites are what we can see of these more casual outfits-I love what F.K.A Twigs and H.E.R are wearing, the headscarf with the leatherjacket on top is in particular very throwback rockabilly, and I’m even into whatever it is Usher’s got on.

(L-R: Olivia O’Brien, Amine, and Alrissa)

(L-R: Salem Mitchell, Machine Gun Kelly, and Sydney Sweeney)

Now, how to round this all up!? How to relate the confusingly persistent but very welcome presence of Sydney Sweeney on, like, ALL these red carpets back to the MET!?

IDEK. It’s been a long year.

The Met Gala has usually come and gone before we know it, but with everything going on, it’s been the longest January-May I think most of us have ever known. I keep going on about COVID-19 in all my posts now but I have almost forgotten how to write an intro and outro because the pandemic is pretty much consistently on the brain and unless I have something right in front of me to use as a distraction, my mind tends to wander off into a very anxious place. I think, like many others, I feel frustrated and disappointed and angry with the way the situation is being handled by the people who are supposed to protect their citizens, and by how much of a fight some are putting up against measures that are in place to try and save lives. The point of this ramble, I guess, is that whilst we should never forget what’s going on and do the best we can to help prevent the spread of the virus, it’s okay to still care about mundane shit. Was this post one big long distraction for me? Probably. But if there’s something harmless you can do to keep your anxiety at bay, don’t feel bad for doing it. Contrary to popular belief, you can care about more than one thing at once. You can be sad that something you were looking forward to has been cancelled whilst still being sad for the people who are suffering because they’ve lost love ones or who have been forced into precarious living conditions. If talking about clothes on the internet is going to help you get through this pandemic, power to you.

If anyone has read til the end, thank you! I hope you are well! As always, feel free to reply to the post or inbox me with your thoughts! It doesn’t even have to be related to this post. If you’re struggling with everything going on, feel free to reach out too. I spend too much time on the internet anyway, lol! My plans are to finish my fashion week reviews and then I have a Lana Del Rey albums inspired lookbook which I pinched off the stans on Twitter (who I will of course credit when I write it!). For the time being, look after yourselves!

Lauren x

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bluedaviau · 4 years

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「 cherry. rachel hilson. cis female. she/her. 」 are you ready for the time of your life, BLUE DAVIAU? the TWENTY ONE year old FINE ART graduate from tulane is ready to HOT AIR BALLOON in DUBAI this semester. close friends would describe them as IDEALISTIC and CREATIVE, but there’s really only one way to find out. get ready for what august has in store for you, BLUE ! 「 pepper. twenty one. est. she/her. 」

ABOUT THE MUN. the 2000 claymation film chicken run radicalized me

what up, i’m pepper, i’m twenty four, and not to flex but i’ve had writer’s block for two str8 months !! but i’m hoping to change that right here right now with one ms. blue daviau so thank you for coming on this journey with me friends it’s gonna be wild. a bit about me is i’ve gone to the mall literally every day this week and honestly, i am Exhausted from it so i apologize for the mess this intro is about to be. i’m a taurus with a libra moon and libra rising so do with that information what you will. my favourite pokemon is mewtwo. growing up i had a massive crush on danny phanton and ben 10, like i loved those lanky boys that could transform to fight crime for some reason?? i can’t tell you why. also when i was a child i thought god looked like king triton from the little mermaid. alright that is enough about me, moving on to blue.

BIO. if you use my coloured pencils you better put them back in rainbow order

this is going to be the short version of her bio but if you want to see the long rambly messy version you can find my google doc/app here ! which i recommend you looking at for no other reason than to see how cute the little cherry doodle i inserted in there is. it took me so long to get that in there and looking cute. it’s baby’s first fancy google doc 😌 anyways sdjhdsjh

blue was born and raised in hawaii! her mother, stormi, was miss hawaii state at one point and her father, reggie, was a pro surfer! however before blue was born her father had a surfing accident that left him in a wheelchair. he turned to art to try to cope with the trauma of this accident and the reality of never being able to surf again, and he even opened up his own gallery! his gallery became a tourist attraction in hawaii and pretty well known in the art community and after passing down her crown blue’s mother became a news anchor. so the fact was blue was the daughter of two local legends in hawaii and the expectations were high!

not to mention the fact that all of blue’s elder siblings were amazing too. blue has five older siblings and all of them are successful in their own right and in their own niche. they’re also all named after colours funnily enough. the daviau parents had big hippy energy in case you were wondering.

so growing up blue was always just kind of the ‘other’ sibling. all her older siblings had showed their talents at a young age and grew into them pretty quickly, while blue was just kind of... there. she was an artist, but she wasn’t a groundbreaking artist. she could sing, but her voice was simply pretty, not lifechanging. she could surf, but she was average at best. to put it simply, blue was the daviau sibling who wasn’t at all special. which ironically, made her stand out like a sore thumb.

blue didn’t mind too much though, at least not when she was younger. she kept to herself anyways. all blue wanted do when she was younger was read, draw, and explore hawaii’s wild life, so she had everything she could possibly need to be happy right at her fingertips. life was good for her despite her inadequacy, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of it (and wouldn’t develop a complex about it later).

when blue was six though her parents decided that they needed to have sweet, sweet, baby number seven to save their marriage. they named that sweet boy gray. he did not save a damn thing, but he sure was cute. blue was eleven when her parents finally divorced and that pretty much marked the end of blue having any kind of parental guidance.

long story short, both of blue’s parents went kinda buckwild the moment they were single and most of the responsibility to take care of five year old gray fell on blue. blue was the one to make gray’s meals. blue was the one to give gray a bath. blue was the one to tuck gray in at night and get him into his school clothes in the morning. blue was the one to help him with his homework and hold his hand as he crossed the street and honestly pretty much do everything for him until she was about seventeen. both her parents simply checked out on that front, and it the end blue was more of a mother to gray than either of their parents were.

the pressure of having to not only take care of herself but also gray when she wasn’t even legally an adult yet, was honestly way too much for blue. her anxiety skyrocketed, and the pressure she put on herself only grew. the only way blue could really cope with it and calm herself down was by 1. losing herself in nature, 2. drawing, or 3. reading, or rather most likely, doing all of the above at once. using art of an escape pretty much guaranteed that blue’s love and passion for it grew, and with that her talent for it. by that time blue was seventeen she had a full portfolio ready to send off to any university outside of hawaii that would take her. because you bet your bottom dollar your girl was getting the hell outta there!

as we all know blue got accepted to tulane. it was hard to leave gray and her family behind, but blue set her mother and father straight before she left, ensuring that gray would be well taken care of in her stead and hoping that some distance between herself and her family that was so dependent on her (her mother never new how to cook so blue made all the meals, her father never knew how to handle gray so he was always coming to blue to advice, gray was absolutely lost without her, etc) would lift that pressure off her shoulders.

it didn’t at first. the first few months were tough with all the calls blue got from home. that plus the schoolwork she had on her plate almost left her more stressed than before. however, slowly the calls began to fade and slowly blue was able to put her full focus in her art program, and later, her animation programs.

sorry folks my brain is fried, we’re gonna stop here!

HEADCANNONS. on all levels except physical i am sitting on top of the moon with my legs swinging back and forth

Blue’s father is in a wheelchair from the surfing accident that made him take up art. His past as a professional surfer is actually part of the reason why his gallery is so popular though honestly, because the accident was televised and after that tragedy many of his fans and the public wanted to support him. He just also so happened to be really talented. But yeah, Blue’s father was really talented at surfing, he was even invited to the summer olympics in the nineties! But he was also the type to refuse to go because ‘surfing should be freeing, the olympics have so many restrictions, it takes away from what surfing is!!’ dkjsd he was that type yk? I also imagine Blue’s parents were the type to be on the front lines at protests. As it is, Blue is the same, very passionate, definitely has made some bomb ass posters and t-shirts for every women's march she’s attended.

Blue can play the ukulele really well and she honestly has a really pretty singing voice. However she can’t dance even a little bit. Honestly, she could literally break a bone. Really wants to throw it back though 😔

Loves to bake and cook because they’re relaxing activities with built in rewards. Learned to bake and cook because of having to take care of herself and her brother's meals when she was younger, that is if she didn’t want them both to literally get diabetes. As it is though, now that she doesn’t have to worry about her baby brother’s diet as well as her own, she will make a whole chocolate cake just cause she’s a little stressed and proceed to actually eat it. But she will share though. Catch Blue coming to your hotel room with sweets.

All of Blue’s elder siblings are adults now, but Gray is still about sixteen. They exchanged letters from Hawaii to Tulane and Blue always spends hours decorating hers and including little snacks and cute little knick knacks in them, despite the fact that Gray is now an angsty teenager and does not find these things as entertaining as he used to. Despite that, they are definitely the closest out of their siblings for the most part.

Blue’s siblings' names are Sage, Jett, Jade, Ruby, Rose and of course Gray. Jade and Jett, and Ruby and Rose are both twins.

The type to cry easily honestly. Also the type to carry other people’s problems with her. Like if you tell Blue that someone hurt your feelings last week she will remember and she will check on you the next time she sees you. Very empathetic, almost to a fault though because she’s constantly being careful of everyone else’s feelings rather than her own. The type who’s a good listener though. Also the type to give either really good advice or really odd advice.

Art still tends to be her happy place, something she got from her father. Trying to find her own place outside of her father's shadow. She wants to get into the world of animation and cartoons but the whole task is a bit daunting. Is planning to work her ass off for it though! Spends a lot of time in coffee shops storyboarding and making animations. I think she may have a contract going on with a cartoon network of some sort, like they may have picked up a show of hers? Because I imagine her putting out some of her first shorts on Youtube and that might have gotten a bit of attention and led to her getting a deal for a show, so. She’s probably working her ass off towards that, and is honestly probably 1.doubting if they really picked up her show because of her talent or her father’s name, and 2.wondering if she can really do this.

Loves water in all shapes and forms. Since she can’t go to the beach everyday, the small bath in her tiny ass apartment??? Suddenly heaven. That said, Blue is either terrified of the ocean or loves it and I can’t decide which. Standby on that.

Makes a great coffee cake. Like it’s to die for.

Is VERY passionate about the environment. Is a pescatarian. Goes to the farmers market to pick out fresh produce. Loves to hike.

Always has the urge to sketch or paint after she reads poetry or novels. Highlights her favourite bits and has the tendency to read them over when she’s sad. The parts she loves are usually the parts that leave her wanting something.

Draws when she’s sad too. Claire Saffitz energy when she’s cooking but also just through life. Very friendly, but an introvert when it comes to gathering her energy.

Lives for libraries and bookstores, and has stacks on stacks of books in her old apartment. Loves old children's books honestly, like The Secret Garden, and poetry. Like whimsical and fantastical fiction with flowery words that just brings you to another place? Blue’s freaking jam. Falls in love with someone in fiction every five days, and desperately wants to be in love in real life, hence all the tinder dates and blind dates. I don’t think Blue ever has fallen in love though, like not really.

An absolute baby when it comes to the cold. Literally there could be a slight breeze and Blue will be acting like she’s suddenly in the arctic. Any cold destinations will be greeted by a bundled up Blue’s Clues.

Made her first painting out of her own feces at six months old. Her parents proudly framed it. It’s probably still up in the attic in their Hawaii home.

Won her first art show at six but was unsure whether it was because her art really was something worth awarding or because of her father’s name. The award got her on the front page of the Honolulu Tribune but with her father proudly at her back and the title ‘Following in her father’s footsteps’ above her head. Blue just wants to find her own footing in the art world, and be her own person.

Keeps a journal and has since she was a teenager.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. i’m the friend that needs help opening water bottles.

coming to theatres near you soon!

#august.intro #i am too tired to write any more for now but tomorrow ??? it's over for you hoes

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heechulhamster · 5 years

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Magnum Opus - Baekhyun

BYUN BAEKYUN x Reader

Artist!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

You were only in search for the man that would inspire you for your 10th painting, but he already found the subject of his masterpiece.

I know I said that I’d post this next week, but I just couldn’t stop myself from writing. My heart swells from the support and love that you give me, guys. Thank you so much!

5304 words.

____

It spoke of a silhouette of a man looking outside the window towards an episode of storm and undeniable gloom. He’s holding a flute of champagne like the classy man he poses to be. Yet like the scenery he ponders on, he’s nothing but a sad noise of isolation and and abandonment. JJY 11418, one of the paintings in your current exhibit. There were 8 others displayed on the finite space of the art gallery you’ve occupied for the past week. Nine was a small number for a collection of works to conduct an exhibition for, but nine is a huge number for the total of relationships..

JJY, or Jang Jaehyun was one of the nine men you’ve dated the past years - a part of your past, a random person in your wide array of memories, and now painting number nine. His was an image of aloofness and poignancy, exactly how he entered your life. Jaehyun was a broken boy in all aspects. A personification of the bad boy stereotype in the movies, bent, scarred, and emotionally distant. The relationship was mainly physical at first, until he opened up and relied on you. But at this point in your life, you weren’t up for the task to be a bearer of someone’s emotional dependency. It was only a matter of time for him to break you like how much of a ruin he is, so you had to sever all ties with him.

Your eyes wandered further to the other paintings subtly titled with other initials. How you immortalized someone you ought to forget and bury in the past by art. Or rather capitalize on old, toxic relationships. You got hurt, so it was right and just you could use those experiences, their stories, for a living, right?

“Who’s JJY?” You’re brought back to Earth by a random interruption behind you. Abruptly turning to see who it is, you see a man not much taller than you with his face void of harsh features.

“Hmmm… someone.” You answered thriftily.

“I conclude that JJY is an ex.” He said with a short laugh and his eyes disappeared when he smiled. Cute, you thought.

“I believe that the exhibit has been closed for..” You look at your watch. “15 minutes now, I’m just preparing to close.”

“I just finished closing mine, that’s why I dropped by. Been wanting to enter this exhibit for a while now.” He used his thumb to point on the exhibit adjacent to yours.

“Oh you’re the photographer?” You asked to which he nodded to. “Nice to finally meet you. I loved your portraits, your boyfriend?”

“No, I don’t exactly sway that way.” You chuckled a little on his words. “Kai is a friend, been interested to photograph dancers while they dance. You know, motion translates good on photos.”

“Tell Kai that he really looks good while dancing.”

“Sorry honey, my friend is taken.” Laughing at your implication. He reached out his hand in front of you, “Baekyun.” You took his hand and also introduced yourself.

“So, all of them are exes?” Baekhyun slowly took his steps as his head looked around the room. His olive green blazer and faded jeans with his copper toned hair contrasting greatly against the white room.

“Not exactly, one over there was an ex fuck buddy. But got enough story to paint.” You pointed towards a warm colored painting on the other side of the room, LDH.

“Wow, you’ve been around.” He laughed as he adjusted his round glasses and took another step towards another painting.

“Well, I can say I’m just in demand.” You joked.

“This one’s sad, this is literally just a guy on a desk and everything’s black and white. What was he like?” Baekhyun closely examined the piece KJS.

“Man, was he as boring as that painting. In all aspects! Conversation wise, he was of no depth. He was a business man, you know how plain and bland they are.” You explained.

“Even in bed?” Baekhyun looked back at you.

“More over in bed.”

“This KJS guy is really a waste of canvas.” He laughed a little and continued walking around with both his hands on his pockets. You have to admit, Baekhyun didn’t look a lot like your ideal type, tall and tan with masculine features. He is more of a flower boy appearance, like someone you’d meet on a sunny Sunday walk around the neighborhood and greet. Yet his aura exuded something more cunning and it got you curious. He really carried himself well.

“Do you accept commissions?” Baekhyun asked.

“Do you mean do I accept new relationships?” You jokingly answered before you looked back at him with his suggestive look. He earned a scoff from you, “Are you serious?”

“I find you interesting, and cute.” Baekhyun wiggled his eyebrows at you. You did a quick scan of your current appearance, you’re wearing a maxi skirt with an ethnic print and a black lace bralette. Your fashion sense sure was in luck today.

“Cute, what a word. Last time I’ve been called that was probably in high school.” You laughed.

“Okay, I think you’re hot. Besides, I would like to make a deal.” Baekhyun fully turned his body from facing the painting to yours and put his hands in his pockets.

“I just knew there’s gonna be a catch. What’s it?” You crossed your hands over your chest to feign intimidation.

“I might have seen the subject of my next series in you.” He reached out a hand and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, a gesture that made you blush like a teenager. “And who knows, maybe I could be painting number ten?”

With Baekhyun’s smirk, you just knew that it was too good of an offer to refrain to.

Baekhyun was an interesting person, to say the absolute least. He was colorful beyond being an artist, an extreme delight to talk to. All it took for you was two dates with him to be madly infatuated with him, and what he could be. How he spoke of everything with passion and with a pledge of enthusiastic fervor.

You vividly remember the first date, a textbook definition of a date in a cafe. It was an interesting place just near the art galleries. A space filled with vintage memorabilia and there was an actual vintage car inside. Baekhyun took the opportunity with you and his camera, presenting you photos of sides of yourself that you’ve never seen before. A new smile that suited your face so well, and you just know what made the difference. The cafe was interesting in itself yet with his ecstatic musings and stories of childhood, it made the place look gloomy and he was the sole light in the universe.

“What did you see in me?” You suddenly asked as you stirred your frappe and while he changed batteries of his camera.

“Uhm, beauty?” He playfully answered with the smile that made him look like a dachshund, a cute one that is.

“Shut the fuck up, Baek. Seriously. You told me you saw your next series or whatsoever in me. I need to know why.”

Baekhyun shifted in his seat and put down his Leica. “I’ve always wanted to feature artists in my work. You know, people tend to disregard the artistic process. The time it took and the emotions a person shed just to come up with the art that they’re so willing to buy and consume. I want the world to see that, the story behind. The art in the making of art.” You almost thought that he’s being to serious in his speech until he winked right after the last sentence.

“And you’re hot. You’re art yourself.” You just chuckled at his playfulness. Because honestly, even if you tried to reply, you’d only speak utter gibberish due to the blush that flooded your cheeks.

Baekhyun made you experience teenage love in the age of twenty six.

It wasn’t like your previous relationships the past few years where you just stuck together for companionship, or sex. It wasn’t a matter of just fulfilling the physical and emotional gaps you have in your life. Baekhyun wasn’t just a cork you try to mask your insecurities and loneliness with. He was someone who made you feel as if you really wanted to be there. You didn’t show up on dates just for the sake of courtesy - you were excited for it. You remember how with the past others you’ve dated, you just come as whoever you are. How you put close to no effort in dressing up, because they weren’t someone you need to impress. They asked you out in the first place. But with Baekhyun, you spend two hours in front of the mirror trying to pick a dress that would accentuate all your assets. It wasn’t because you need to impress him, it’s just because you want to look your best.

The second date, you both tried to go out your comfort zone and rented a karaoke booth. He told you that performance wasn’t his thing but he actually had good singing skills. So when he passed you the mic, you amply declined in embarrassment. Yet that boy really had good convincing, or annoying skills that he was able to coax the shame out of you and got you to sing Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and The Waves. A few drinks and songs later, both of you sang a duet and danced to Abba.

It was at that moment where you started to look at his eyes a bit differently. How his eyes were too warm for your liking, how it carried more messages than you could comprehend. You grew aware of how his thumb lightly played with your shoulder as his hand rested on it. Your bare thigh due to the shorts your wearing was attentive of how it connected with Baekhyun’s denim pants. It was as if your senses were at overdrive, and all it could take in was Baekhyun.

“You’re not hot.” You suddenly blurted out.

“Uhm, ouch. But thank you?” He put his hand over his chest to act as if he’s hurt.

“No, I mean. You’re not buff, not muscular. But there’s just something about you I find sexy. And I don’t know what it is.” You shook your head much to your chagrin.

“That’s better.” He quickly answered. You shot him a confused face while your elbow rested on the couch and your hand supported your face. Baekhyun straightened his seat in front of you. “If you’re just attracted to how I look, you could leave me if I gain weight. If you don’t know what you’re here for, you’re just going to keep on wanting to know. You’re stuck with me, missy.”

“I need to know, Byun. How am I going to paint my 10th if you’re going to keep me in a daze?” You pouted.

“Artist’s call.” That was all he answered before he chugged down another bottle of beer.

Baekhyun showed up in your exhibit late at night after his day job. He worked as a photojournalist for the local paper aside from his artistic ventures as a photographer. Keeps the stability of the dinner table, he says. To which you understand fully, a painting can earn you a couple of hundred dollars. A commissioned painting can cost to up a thousand, but how common of an occurrence was that? You yourself experienced needing to work a few temp jobs just to make ends meet.

“Can I ask you something?” Baekhyun whispered behind you, to which you responded a simple hum.

“Which hurt the hardest?” You looked back at him and saw nothing but mere curiosity in his face.

“Hmmm…” You started crossing the finite space of your exhibit, halting in front of a piece that was a burst of reds and oranges, a symphony of warm tones. It featured a two people hugging each other, but one had his back from the other as it seemed that his own figure melted. You sighed, the very first piece that you made in this collection - JTY.

“It really looks painful.” You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and you were enveloped in Baekhyun’s embrace and his scent. “Who is it?”

“My second boyfriend, just right before I graduated from High School. We lasted a while. Close to 2 years , I think. He wanted me to go to the same University as him, take a much more practical course. But I don’t want that. I can’t be just another lawyer like him, I can’t deal with the definitivity of it. How constricted their career is with their laws and everything. He broke up with me and told me I was being dumb. That being an artist would only lead to struggling. And he couldn’t stay with someone so irrational. He didn’t just break my heart, he made me doubt my dreams. Made me doubt if I could actually make it. But hey, here I am, right?” You chuckled a little after you ended your story.

All you felt was his breath fanning on your neck. The story didn’t even make you sad anymore, it was just a part of your past. And you’ve already proven your ex wrong. And you’re with someone way better.

“You’re here, and I trust that..” Baekhyun whispered and planted a chaste kiss on your neck. “To further places you’ll go.”

You turned your face to him, his arms on your waist hugged tighter as you closed the distance between your lips. Gently placing a kiss on his lips as if expressing how thankful you were that he was by your side.

Later that night, both of you ended at your apartment. Out of no reason, he reminded you that he was to commission a painting from you. Baekhyun brought his old film camera and a polaroid, and you remembered that he wanted to capture you as you work.

“What would you like me to paint?” You asked as you sat in front of your easel, paint and brushes already prepared on the side.

“What do you want to paint? Whatever.” He said as he prepared his film camera and set up a blinding set of lights.

“I thought this was commission? You need to give me ideas, sir.” You chuckled a little.

“Me.” He answered as he sat on the chair that was in reverse, then placing his elbows on the backrest. “But how you see me.”

“Shall I paint a puppy, then?” You joked, to which Baekhyun scoffed at.

“Nevermind. Just do a self portrait.” He decided, and you looked at him annoyingly. “I told you-”

“You told me that you don’t do self portraits because you don’t like how you see yourself. But I do like you. And I’d like a beautiful painting so just paint you. It’s a commission, no buts - okay?” He retaliated, and at this point you had no choice.

So you just put your hair up in a bun and started painting. You put one of your legs up on the chair, the way it helps you focus. You tried to not be distracted by the few clicks of camera that you hear, and not be conscious of how you’d look on the photos. But that wasn’t was distracting you all along. Baekhyun already removed the coat that he wore over his black button down shirt, which already had its first three buttons undone. And with the way he focused on his craft, he glistened hotter than the surface of the sun.

You tried your best to just proceed on your work. Choosing to portray yourself naked, only covered by a thin cloth, as a sign of freedom. The way you’re used to. As an expression of your despise for being bound and being told what to do. The way your ex told you what you should do, the way your parents asked you to take another course. The nakedness you showed was a sign of breaking free from all that held you back to who you wanted to be.

“You really want me to hang that on my living room?” Baekhyun suddenly asks behind you.

“You hang it where you want to hang, but I’ll paint what I feel to paint.” You answered without even looking at him as you refrained to be distracted.

“Do you even know that you bite your lips too hard when you focus?”

“I’m not aware of how I look like when I paint, Baek. That’s why I need to see how I look on those photos.”

He walked over in front of you and holds your hand, almost commanding you to stop your activity. “You could continue that some other time. For now, I have another thing in mind.” He said as he put down the canvass you’ve been working on from your easel.

He walked over to the stock of other canvass boards lying in your living room and unpacked one, eventually placing it on the easel.

“I’m to commission another, an abstract.” He said.

“I’m not a fan of abstract, Baek.”

“But that’s what I want. I’ll help you.” He proclaimed and you scrunched up your face in confusion. “Abstract paintings are more than a mess, you see. It portrays what the artist feels as of the moment. An emotion locked in time by a painting. I’ll help you by giving you something to feel.”

You almost choked in shock and confusion when he knelt in front of you. Hands slowly carressing your thighs down to the hem of the skirt you wore. Baekhyun looked at you as if asking for permission, to which you just nodded to. He lifted the hem of your skirt to reveal your legs, and eventually your underwear.

“Baekhyun, what?” You asked almost with just your breath.

“Just paint what you feel, darling. And I’ll make you feel good.” Baekhyun responded just right before he planted kisses on your inner thigh. Your hands quivered at the sensation he was bringing you. You felt his hands palming your heat, a part of you he’s already familiarized himself with the past month you’ve been dating.

Baekhyun continued planting wet kisses on your thighs until his hands started tugging on your underwear. You lifted from your chair a little bit to let him fully pull it down. For him to remove the barrier that’s been separating the two of you. It was when you felt his breath in the middle of your thighs that your mind blanked out.

“You better start painting, baby. I’m planning to take a while here.” Baekhyun declared then suddenly diving his face into your folds. The way his tongue flattened on your heat sent your mind to space. With his tongue’s movements and his arms wrapped around your thighs, constricting you to move, you just blanked out. You closed your eyes and threw your head back as you let him work his wonder into your body.

“The painting, baby. I’m gonna need you to tell me how you feel by that.” Baekhyun parted his lips from yours so you picked up the first shade of paint that came in contact with your hands, violet. He returned his lips on your folds, and eventually sucked on your clit. You were unable to function normally, and the canvass was just a mess of random smears of violet and blue.

He then started using his hands when you picked up another color. You were nearing your bliss when Baekhyun worked faster. Your hands on the canvass almost mimicked his movements, producing jagged zigzag lines of white over the cold colors. A few moments later and you felt your lower stomach contract. Your left hand putting down the paint and finding his hair, bunching it to make him feel how close you were. It didn’t even take another minute for you to reach your release.

Baekhyun distanced himself from you, looking at you with evidences of his actions and your pleasure still smeared on his face. He looked at the painting, “It’s beautiful, and it's mine.”

You laughed at the double meaning of his words. “It’s free, as a payment for your hard work.”

It was another day where you woke up in a place that’s not yours. Enveloped with an arms that held you as if he’d stop breathing if he lets go. Baekhyun sensed that you’re already awake and planted a kiss on the side of your face.

“Good morning, beautiful.” You just threw him a side eye on his cheesy words.

You just lied on his bed when he stood up, you didn’t want to move due to the way your body felt. Sore, tired, and stretched out, but wonderful and pleasured. You closed your eyes again as you felt the blankets peeled away from your body. You almost pulled it back in response but you’re shocked when you opened your eyes and saw a polaroid camera focused at you.

You didn’t know how to react. Because one, you’re naked as hell. And second, Baekhyun was generous enough to shower you with marks and bites last night.

“What the fuck Baek?” You threw a pillow at him. “That’s not going in your collection.”

He laughed at you as he fanned the photo that came out of the polaroid. “No worries, for a very special personal collection. Only my eyes can see.”

You both just cuddled afterwards, immersing yourself in the pleasure of silence and just holding each other close. You turned to him, admiring his youthful features.

“How did you get into photography?” You suddenly asked.

“It was my first love, actually.” You nodded in silence. “She was the first one to make me hold a camera. I fell in love with it, and she’s always been my subject. But I eventually fell in love with the art more than her. She felt it, and grew tired of being with me. She told me to find a new subject, one that’s better suited for me. One that I can produce my magnum opus with. One that feels perfect.” He stared at you as he spoke.

“One that can stick with me and my art forever.” Baekhyun grabbed your hand and planted a kiss on it.

Your breath hitched, on the mention of the word. Forever.

Were you willing to stick forever?

Or Baekhyun was just something that excited you now? And like all other men, would be boring to you afterwards. You always found yourself growing tired of a routine, and the same applied to people. When time comes that you’ve known them too well, when there’s no thrill anymore, you tend to slip away. You tend to lose interest.

Would it be different for Baekhyun? Will he keep you interested long enough for you to commit?

Another thing, commitment. One you’re scared of and one you suck at. Commitments were never your thing. That’s why you never indulged yourself on the steady pay of a day job. Routines sicked the hell out of you. You couldn’t bare to live a life so repeated and cyclical. You’re afraid to be tied down, bound, and be stopped from growing. You don’t want to be stuck in a same place, you loved adventure so much and you seeked it. Whether that new encounters involved new places or new people, as long as you’ll gain another story to tell that you’d then translate onto a canvas. Immortalizing a story into a piece of art that no one can change.

Are you willing to give up that freedom in an exchange of a stability with Baekhyun?

Later that night, you found yourself once again in front of your easel. WIth your feet up and your hair tied in a tight, messy bun. All too fixated on the story that flowed out from your mind, to your hands, and eventually on the painting that you worked on.

Your tenth painting.

It wasn’t too cinematic nor too definitive. It’s just a man with an army green coat, holding a camera that covers his face. His other hand held another that extends to the front of the painting, a hand that was supposed to be yours. The background almost looked like a galaxy, a symphony of blue and violet - a splitting image of the abstract painting that already lived in his bedroom.

It’s a summary of how you saw Baekhyun, how you felt with him, and how much you’re happy and hurt.

Hurt because you just can’t find the will to stay.

You’re a coward that’s afraid of imperfection. He wants someone who could stick forever. His perfect muse of his art. The subject of his masterpiece, the lady of his colorful life. But you can’t find the perfect girl in you, you don’t know if you could fulfill all his expectations. If you were enough to be the perfect girl. Your mouth filled with bitterness on the notion of the word perfect, a word so superficial and so abstract. Because who can even be ever perfect? Is there even a set standard on what perfect is?

But you just knew to yourself that you’re not that.

You couldn’t be perfect.

And you couldn’t be his.

You lifted your brush, and there it was. The painting that will never speak enough on how much you felt, how much you loved, and how much it hurt - BBH.

You stopped dropping by his exhibit even if it’s only opposite yours. You started ditching his calls, not wanting to be the one to break the thing between you two. Because you can’t break his heart and doing so would break yours. Maybe if you just put the two of you in the cold, he would eventually slip away too, that maybe Baekhyun would also just let it slide and let go.

But too much for a wishful thinking.

Baekhyun showed up on the last day of your exhibit, you were currently boxing all the unbought paintings and wrapping up those who found a home. He showed up with his dark jeans and black shirt. His hair ruffled but every strand still in perfect place. You knew with the look on his face that’s he’s here to clear things up.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He sat in front of you as you neatly taped a painting in its box.

“Nothing? It’s the last day of my exhibit. I just need to clear things up a bit.” You didn’t even look in his eyes, afraid that when you do so - you’ll only give in.

“I’m not talking about the damn exhibit, I’m talking about us.” His voice grew louder, tenser. You could already imagine how veins would show on his forehead and the tendons on his neck would grow tense.

“Us? What’s with us, Baek?” You tried to answer innocently.

“Exactly. What’s with us?” He reached out to your hand. Tugging it a bit harshly to get you to look at him. “You just fucking dropped me off, I don’t even remember doing anything wrong. So tell me what happened. Because obviously, the ball is in your court.”

You sighed, there was just no getting out of this. You stood up and placed the boxed painting among the others that was ready for pickup.

“I finished my tenth painting, and you finished your new series. So…” You tried to flash a smile.

“Yes, it’s done. So?” Baekhyun’s forehead creased in confusion.

“So our deal is done. Remember? You asked for a deal. And it’s done.” You had to turn your back away from him.

“What? So that’s all this was to you?” He grabbed your arm to make you turn around back to him. And when you met his eyes that spoke of agitation and various sentiments, you can’t help your eyes from welling up. You wanted to break down, regret the way you’ve acted the past weeks and just hug him.

“That’s all I am to you? Just another painting to hang on some rich guy’s wall? Another canvass you’d brand with my initials? So fuck, I’m just BBH, painting number ten to you?” He laughed in sarcasm.

“No, Baek. It’s just…” Your words got caught up in your throat. A little bit of too much and too little thoughts flooded your mind. You wanted to say a lot of things, how much he made you feel, how happy you were with him, and everything.

“What? Because, I love you. I fucking love you so much, (Y/N) You’re not just going to be another photo project I’m working on, because you live here.” Baekhyun’s index finger pointed on his chest, where his heart is, where he told you you lived in.

“I can’t be your perfect girl, Baekhyun! I’m not perfect. I don’t know if I’m enough to fill all your expectations. All that you want, because I’m just me, Baek. A girl that paints her exes into canvases to make ends meet. One who dated ten guys to get stories to paint, who’s been around just for the sake of the art I make.” You explained.

“I got addicted into the idea of dating people because it gives me inspiration and stories to paint. And with you, you just didn’t make me want to paint a single work. You’re the one I can’t explain in just one frame. I don’t think a thousand would be enough, too. I’m scared. I’m scared because this shit is new to me. I came to this agreement expecting to gain something and go to the next one but no, I craved something more. I craved to stay. And I don’t know how to deal with it. Because commitments is something I suck at, Baek.”

Baekhyun took two steps and closed the distance between you two. Both of his hands found the sides of your face, cupping it closer to him.

“I don’t need someone’s who’s perfect. I just need someone who stays.” He planted a chaste kiss on your lips. “Just stay, please.”

You just stared at him, you wanted to stay. You wanted to go and find out how it feels to be kept and stay at one place. The pleasure and comfort of finding a home in somebody’s arms. But could you?

“Please, stay.” Baekhun asked once more because he kissed you passionately in the middle of the room. The exact same room where he first approached you. The room that contained all the frames that told stories of each and every heartbreak, every part of your past. And now it contained the man who held your future, and he was holding you.

Baekhyun kept hold of his part of the gallery. Eventually filling it with a new series of photos, one that featured you. There you saw how you bit your lip as you focused on a painting. Each strand of your hair that went haywire from the messy bun on the top of your head. How you sat so unfeminine with your feet up on the chair. It was just so raw, and so you.

“I told you, it looks good.” He said as he planted a kiss on your shoulder. He let you be the first one to see the photos as he freshly hung it in the gallery.

“It only looks good because you’re a great photographer. You know my angles.” You said with a smile.

“No, it doesn’t just look good. It’s perfect. To me, you’re perfect.” His arms embraced around you again. “And this love I share with you is my masterpiece. An art that I’d continue working on.” And Baekhyun planted a kiss on your lips.

And it’s true, because the love you had for each other in your veins will be forever immortalized in the art that you bleed. An emotion captured in time, a moment that’s frozen, and a love that will never fade.

#exo imagine #exo fanfic #exo angst #exo fanfiction #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #BBH #baekhyun imagine #exo smut #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun angst #exo fluff #baekhyun au #artist au #exo scenario #exo fanfictions

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chimmycharmed · 5 years

Text

nevermind (one-shot)

Title: NEVERMIND (alt: I love you, hyung) Words: 5,619 Ships: Yoonmin, slight Yoonjin, implied Vmin. Synopsis: Jimin thought love meant staying, so when Yoongi left he thought love meant coming back. But love is more complicated than that. Genre: Rapper!Suga x ContemporaryDancer!Jimin, exes au, angst, implied smut. Warnings: Heartbreak, cheating, abandonment. Author’s note: Listen to Mean It (stripped) - Lauv ft. LANY while reading.

PART I: I DON’T MIND

Love never meant staying. Park Jimin never knew what that meant until he met Min Yoongi.

It was summer at the time. He was a contemporary dancer that was just dragged by his best friend to an underground rap scene because he was a fan of it, Jimin on the other hand, couldn’t care less.

“Taehyung-ah, you really go to these events?” A whine Taehyung knows all too well.

“Events.” Taehyung scoffed, dragging Jimin by the arm in the middle of the crowd so they have a perfect view of the next challenger. “It’s a rap battle, Jimin-ah. It’s not that formal, aish.”

Jimin never understood his best friend’s fascination with rap and hip-hop. For one, Taehyung was a classical musician. He plays Bach and Beethoven on the violin, piano, and sax. That’s even how they met, he was part of the orchestra to one of his ballet pieces.

They found themselves near the front row, the MC known to the fans as RM called the next challenger and that was the first time he saw him.

Bleached blonde, pale but not sick, sporting a smug look on his face. He looked like he could walk the talk judging by the way he dressed: shirt, jersey, a snapback, and a couple of piercings on both ears.

“Ayo Suga!” RM exclaimed as the rapper made his way to the stage. “What’s your motivation for challenging j-hope today?”

“We have a score to settle.” For a small guy, he was intimidating Jimin thought. J-hope on the other hand just laughed at his contender. Not the kind of laugh where he thought this Suga guy was pathetic. Just laughed like he was making a joke. He seemed like the guy to laugh at everything.

“Okay, and the rap battle begins in 1... 2... 3!” The MC started the countdown.

It was j-hope’s turn first, he rapped like he was mocking his competition. “Ya, j-hope’s really good at this type of rap, and his flow change? Don’t get me started.” Taehyung explained with his boxy smile, his eyes glued to the stage.

Then it was his turn. Suga rapped so many syllables so fast Jimin really stood there shocked. It’s as if he gave j-hope no time to rebut, he ended him right then and there. Everyone could feel the tension, j-hope was walking towards Suga looking pissed off.

“Wait, are they going to fight?” Jimin was both scared and concerned. He was just looking at Suga. Tae just had a smug look on his face, and then Jimin saw why. RM looked like he was stopping j-hope from going too close to Suga but instead, he too rapped. The two competitors began laughing, and it dawned on him: it was just a ploy.

All three rappers were now facing each other in a circle, spitting fire, and Jimin didn’t realize it now, nor will he admit in the future: they were good, scratch that, they were amazing. “Ddaeng! I fucking love this track so much!” Taehyung squealed like the fanboy he is.

“Wait, so they were just playing the audience?” Jimin asked, confused.

“Dude literally everyone here except you knows they’re the best of friends. The best rapline in Seoul if not in South Korea.” Taehyung explained, suddenly dragging Jimin by the arm to take him to the side of the stage. “Come on, I’m introducing you to them.”

“You know them?” As much as Jimin was surprised, he immediately shut up when he was face to face with the trio.

“Hyungs! I want you to meet my best friend and soulmate, Jimin.” Jimin rolled his eyes mentally, he always asked Taehyung not to call him soulmate in front of new people because it more often than not gives the wrong impression.

“Hi! I’m Namjoon.” RM said, Jimin was surprised on how formal he got all of a sudden, was this the same rapper on stage a while ago? He extended his hand and he shook it.

“I’m your hope, but you already knew that by now.” J-hope smiled. “I’m Hoseok.” It was his turn to shake Jimin’s hands.

“What’s the use of having a stage name when we just give out our real ones?” Suga whined from the side. “Well, I’m Yoongi. I guess.” He still looked so cool while shaking his hand. They all did, Jimin thought but Yoongi... There's just something about his presence.

“Nice to meet all of you, hyungs.” Jimin even did a slight bow as a sign of respect which made Yoongi smile.

“Are you staying for drinks, Taehyung-ah?” Yoongi asked.

Namjoon and Hoseok looked at each other in surprise, Jimin didn’t know what that meant. “Hyung, you know I don’t drink.” Taehyung laughed. “But Jimin is quite the drinker so he can drink for the both of us.”

“Ya, Taehyung.” Jimin scolded.

“What? Let’s stay a bit longer. You don’t have any practice tomorrow right?” Tae pleaded to his soulmate. Jimin knows he couldn't say no to that.

“Yea, stay a bit longer.” Jimin felt Yoongi’s gaze on him, it felt alluring, it felt right.

“Okay.” How could he possibly say no now?

There was a bar area in the scene, Namjoon, Hoseok and Tae were looking for a table while Jimin was with Yoongi since he asked to accompany him in getting drinks.

“You drink soju?” Jimin nodded to answer. “I’ll order 5 but between you and me, I think they’ll just share one bottle.” Yoongi laughed as he gave Jimin 2 bottles then proceeded to carry the other 3 on his own.

“Why is that?” Jimin raised a brow.

“The 94 liners aren’t that much of a drinker.” Yoongi answered. “How old are you?”

“I’m a 95 liner, like Tae.”

“Ah, your soulmate.” Yoongi nodded, sounding dry.

“It’s not like that, we’re just eternal platonic friends,” Jimin explained getting flustered not knowing why. “It’s an inside joke.”

“So you’re available then?” Yoongi cocked his brow.

“Huh?” Jimin was surprised by his straightforwardness. But he couldn’t continue to answer as they made their way to their table.

“So Jimin, what do you do?” Namjoon asked, now fixing the table for the bottles to be placed.

“Oh, I’m a contemporary dancer.” Jimin said, sitting beside Tae while Yoongi sat beside Hoseok.

“Okay, Namjoon pay up. I told you he was a fancy dude like this one.” Hoseok nudged Tae, teasing.

“Okay, I thought you were an underground street dancer.” Namjoon reached for a bill and gave it to Hoseok.

“How come?” Jimin was surprised at the observation.

Yoongi replied instead, “You stand like a dancer, we just didn’t know what kind.”

“I told Namjoon that if you were an underground street dancer I would’ve heard of you by now.”

“Unless you’re not good.” Yoongi scoffed. “But I don’t think that’s possible.” Did he just wink at me? Jimin thought.

The night went on filled with shots and laughter. Yoongi was right, they ended up drinking 2 bottles each because Namjoon and Hoseok tapped out early. Tae had to go home earlier because he forgot he was going to an art gallery out of town the next day. Jimin insisted on staying, he was having so much fun.

Jimin never liked going home, it just wasn’t a place he’d like to stay. He was always at practice or out on a bar trying to have fun with his friends. This wasn’t like the regular stuck up dancer crowd he’s used too. They were fun. They were unpredictable, it made him loosen up. That must be the reason he stayed tonight. It was that.

Or the fact that Yoongi’s hand suddenly rested on his knees after sitting beside him after Tae left. Good thing he was intoxicated, he could use that as an excuse for blushing profusely.

“Shall we call it a night?” Namjoon asked his hyung. Jimin found out quickly that he was the leader of the trio despite not being the eldest, during their stories over drinks.

“Let’s.” Yoongi said, standing up. “I’ll drop Jimin at his place.”

Everyone in the table knew where this was headed, if Tae was here he would’ve known it too. Jimin had his fair share of one night stands. He was a looker after all. He knew the drill. The guy will offer to give him a ride home, he’ll ask if he wants a drink. They go up to his place and things happen.

And that’s what exactly happened with him and Yoongi. Except that, it wasn’t just all physical sex. They shared laughs while figuring out who’s bottoming, and Jimin knew Yoongi wanted to top, so he let him.

He was good at it, Jimin never knew he could cum that hard. Twice for that matter. The first by Jimin discovering what tongue technology actually meant and the other by him topping.

After that Jimin knew that the guy will probably say goodbye and will never show up again. But Yoongi was the exact opposite. He asked if he could stay the night. And in the morning, Jimin woke up to him cooking breakfast.

“You’re still here?” It was more of a question than a statement.

“I was thinking you’re hungry.” Yoongi smiled, putting the eggs on Jimin’s plate. “Do you think I’d just leave like that?”

“Yes.” Jimin answered quite honestly.

“If I just left, it would be awkward wanting to see you again would it?” Yoongi said, sitting beside Jimin. “Unless I overstepped and you don’t want to see me anymore?”

“I never had a fuck buddy before.” Jimin’s innocence made Yoongi chuckle, he forgot he was younger than him after all.

“Then I guess I’ll have to date you then.” He flashed his teeth towards the younger lad. “Is that okay?”

A smile crept on Jimin’s face. “I don’t mind.”

PART II: CHANGE YOUR MIND

Jimin never meant to find a home in Min Yoongi, but when autumn came he found himself moving Yoongi’s stuff in his place. Not everything, but small things: his toothbrush, his favorite pair of sweats, his noise-canceling headphones.

Small things that meant Yoongi will stay in his life. Things were going well. Whenever Jimin had a performance, Yoongi always bought him roses. After practice, Jimin always went to Yoongi’s underground performances even without Taehyung.

Sex was great, but their companionship grew stronger. This must be what home felt like. This must be what love means.

“Are you sure about this?” Yoongi asked Jimin who was sitting on a chair of a tattoo parlor. He looked nervous but sure.

“I really like your song, and I want it tattooed on me as a birthday gift to myself.” Jimin had a wide smile on his face.

“You like me too, why not have a tattoo of my name?” Yoongi joked.

“Only if you tattoo mine on you.” Jimin teased.

“I’m good with piercings, tattoos aren't just for me Jiminie. You already talked me into dying my hair this shade of green.” Yoongi will never let Jimin down for it, but Jimin thought mint suited him well.

“You’re just chicken, hyung.” Jimin rolled his eyes to which Yoongi snickered.

“Ya, you’re disrespecting your hyung now eh.”

“No. I love you, hyung.”

It was an unconventional first ‘I love you’ from Jimin, he never expected it to be in a tattoo shop waiting for his turn. But Yoongi was there. And he just needed to say it. And he thought he needed to hear it by now. And that was all that mattered.

“I love you too, Jiminie.” He said before kissing him fully on the lips.

“Ehem.” The tattoo artist finally arrived with the needle and ink, if Yoongi remembered it correctly his name was Jungkook – the youngest tattoo artist in the area that got acclaim in some TV show.

“Sorry.” Jimin was embarrassed, but Yoongi sat beside him.

“Let’s start?” Jungkook received a nod from a shaking Jimin.

“Hyung, hold my hand?” Yoongi entwined his fingers with Jimin’s. And he didn’t let go until it was done.

Just like that, Yoongi’s song was a permanent fixture on Jimin’s body and life. They went home that night happy.

“Aish, Jimin stay still so I can put on some ointment.” Yoongi holding up a shirtless Jimin in bed. He acts his age sometimes.

“It’s so itchy.” He whined.

“Well, that’s part of the healing process. You wanted this right?” Yoongi smirked.

“You’re so mean to me, hyung!” Jimin was silenced by a more passionate kiss compared to the one in the tattoo shop.

“If I could kiss it better, I would.” Yoongi rested his forehead on Jimin’s.

“Just kiss me instead.”

That night, they made love while reminding each other how much they meant to each other. Jimin knew that he could live like this his whole life.

But winter came one year, and Yoongi left. Like he disappeared into thin air. Jimin was just coming home from practice. Yoongi wasn’t texting. Jimin was calling and he couldn’t reach him. He came home and Yoongi wasn’t there. But everything he owns was still in place.

Little reminders that Yoongi stayed, little reminders that Yoongi left.

Jimin went to Yoongi’s apartment, and his landlady doesn’t know where he is. He went to the underground rap bar where they first met, Hoseok was just shocked. They too couldn’t contact him.

Jimin was going to have a panic attack, he knew that. He couldn’t just leave, he can’t. They loved each other. Right? Namjoon pulled Jimin to talk to him at the parking lot.

“Jimin.” Jimin was already crying, panicking. Namjoon had to put his arms on his shoulders to calm him down and have him stay still. “It’s Jin-hyung.”

This was the exact time you could hear Jimin’s heart shatter into pieces. Namjoon didn’t need to say anything else. He knew who Jin was to Yoongi.

He was the first person Yoongi gave his heart to. Yoongi was never clear why they broke up, but Jimin knew that there was a hole in Yoongi’s heart when Jin left, and now his looked the same with Yoongi gone.

Jimin went home that night breaking down to an empty bed filled with Yoongi’s stuff. In the next few weeks, Jimin couldn’t eat, he couldn’t get up, he couldn’t go to practice, let alone perform.

Taehyung had to physically manhandle him to take one bath after a week.

“Taehyung-ah, what did I do wrong?” Jimin sulked in the bathtub while Tae just sat on the toilet seat cover, hurting for his friend.

“Jimin, you didn’t do anything.” He tried to comfort him, his heart was just as hurt as his soulmate.

“Then why am I the one left alone?” He cried again, Tae just hugged him. Tight.

After a few months, Jimin got back to work. But he was downgraded to a backup dancer again, he knew it was coming after not showing up for months. He should be thankful the company gave him another chance.

Months went on like he did before meeting Yoongi. He went to work, he went shopping with Taehyung, he went home, and repeat. Yoongi’s stuff was placed in a drawer he never dared to look into again.

Then Jimin’s birthday came, and Taehyung threw him a small party with his dance troop. Taehyung wanted to rid Jimin of memories of Yoongi, it was his birthday after all. It was all about him. Tae wanted Jimin to stay at his place so he won’t be alone, but Jimin wanted to go home to his apartment.

He was tipsy and tired, until he found Yoongi sitting in the middle of his living room. His hair now dyed black.

“Hi.” He said, softly already looking apologetic. “Happy birthday.”

Jimin’s mind must be playing tricks on him. Memories played back in his head. The first birthday spent with him, getting a tattoo of his song. The next birthday where Yoongi cooked for him and threw him a party, the third one where they took a trip to Busan.

This was supposed to be his first birthday without him, but here he was on the living room sofa looking like the love of his life. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi began to tear up. “I need to explain a lot to you, I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin walked towards him and Yoongi was prepared for the worse, for a good hearing, for a fist on his cheek, but Jimin’s arms were suddenly wrapped around his neck, his face buried in his chest. “You’re here. You’re real.”

“Jimin, I’m sorry.” Yoongi finally broke down, and Jimin did too.

“If I forgive you, will you promise not to leave me again?” Jimin was shaking as Yoongi pulled back to look at him in the eye.

“I won’t make the same mistake.” And Jimin felt his lips on his once more.

He thought about the last time they kissed and how he was so devastated that it didn’t last longer. But Yoongi came back, and he knew the feelings never really went away. It was just buried beneath all the effort to make him seem okay again.

That night they made love for the first time in a long time and Jimin didn’t want to fall asleep until Yoongi reassured him that he wasn’t going anywhere. He woke up with Yoongi making breakfast for him again. Like he never left.

“We need to talk.” Jimin said as he sat down at the dining table, he was happy he came back but that meant he left the first place.

“We do.” Yoongi sighed, placing some fried eggs on Jimin's plate like he did the first time they spent the night together.

And so the tale began, on how one night Jin came back and asked for another chance and how Yoongi wasn’t sure all of a sudden what to do. How Jin asked him to let him prove it to him, how he asked Yoongi to come with him to Busan for a film fest he was a part of since he was an actor, how they stayed there for a while to see how things go.

How Yoongi realized he couldn’t do this to Jimin, how everywhere he went in Busan reminded him of their trip on Jimin’s birthday. How he only realized that he just missed Jin, but didn’t really love him anymore. Not in the way he loved Jimin. How he called it off and mustered the courage to go back to Jimin, not knowing if he’ll accept him.

“How do you plan on making it up to me?” Jimin said with his eyes closed, thinking hard.

“I don’t know, but if I have to make it up to you my whole life I will.” Yoongi placed his hand on top of his, before entwining their fingers together like he did when he comforts him.

“Did you expect I’ll just be waiting here for you until you came back?”

“I was hoping you would, but I would understand if you didn’t.” If honesty can be heard, this must be what it sounds like.

“But I did.” Jimin finally opened his eyes to look at Yoongi, gripping his hand a bit tighter – a signal to return back the comfort he was given. “I don’t know how you’ll make it up to me, but I know that includes not leaving me again.”

“I love you, Jimin.” Yoongi assured him with a soft voice. “I’m sorry this had to happen for me to realize that. I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you, hyung.” The gap between their faces was growing smaller and Yoongi looked at Jimin to seemingly asking for a silent permission. When Jimin closed his eyes, he knew the answer.

They shared a kiss, another first of many kisses since they got back together. Jimin finally thought he could be happy again. But they had a long way to go, not everything fell back to place. Taehyung was frustrated that Jimin just let him back into his life. They had a bit of a falling out, and Jimin didn’t have the energy to work on that, he was already working hard to fix things with Yoongi.

Jimin suggested they finally move in together, but Yoongi was still hesitant. He was always vocal about wanting to have his own space. Fights about Yoongi leaving him still ensued. There were pockets of happiness during these years but Jimin began to think if these small moments were enough to be defined as happiness.

He knew he couldn’t control Yoongi, love shouldn’t do that. But he could control what he felt, what he did. He chose to look at their lives in rose-colored glasses. And he decided to take matters into his own hands.

That meant he bought a ring. Placed it in his drawers he knew Yoongi wouldn’t look into and waited for the right moment. Jimin wasn’t sure of the timing, but he was sure about Yoongi and that was enough. He thought if it was time, he would know.

But days went on and they both got extremely busy with work but Jimin was fine with that as long as he went home to him. But even when they were together, he felt like Yoongi just wasn’t there. He knew something was wrong, but he chose to trust Yoongi.

Until one winter, Yoongi came by again with a bag, sporting a serious look on his face. He plopped down on the sofa, sighing. “We need to talk.”

Jimin knew where this was going, he couldn’t say he was surprised but he just really hoped for the best, he really hoped this wasn’t an option. “Did you change your mind?” He asked.

PART III: OUT OF MIND

Jimin imagined 2 scenarios of the cause of their impending breakup. First, is that Yoongi found someone else, I mean, that’s what happened the first time right? The second was Jimin himself finding someone else, but knowing how much he loved Yoongi, that was highly unlikely. But here they were, spending a few minutes here during the calm before the storm.

It was a vague question, Jimin knew that when he asked. However, the fact that Yoongi did not answer and just waited for Jimin to sit beside him, he knew the worst is about to come.

And so Jimin sat beside him and Yoongi moved slightly to face him. “You didn’t answer, so I guess that means yes.” Jimin continued.

“Are you still happy?” Yoongi shook his head while asking.

“You’re not.” This time, it was more of a statement than a question.

“We haven’t been okay since I came back.” He admitted. “And I think you know that.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have left in the first place.” Jimin glared, Yoongi looked away uncomfortably. “And now you’re leaving again, huh?”

“You told me if I forgive you, will you promise to not leave me again?” Yoongi said calmly. “Did you? Forgive me?” He was met with silence. “So, don’t put this all on me.”

“Are you fucking serious, Min Yoongi?” Jimin spat, his body began to tremble. “You left, without a warning. To try again with your ex. And you expect me to be okay with it?”

“I don't, but if you’re not okay with it then why accept me back?”

“Why are you acting like it’s a bad thing that I accepted you back?!” Jimin’s voice began to rise.

“Jimin, it’s been 4 years and I know you still haven’t forgiven me.” Yoongi pointed out. “I’m doing my best here too, you know. Yes, I left. It was wrong, I hurt you but in these 4 years didn’t I ever make it up to you? Not even for a bit?”

Jimin couldn’t answer that. He was so stuck in his own hurt that he never thought he was hurting Yoongi. “Yoongi. When you left, all I could think about is what did I do wrong? Why was I not enough? Not even enough for you to say goodbye?” His voice began to shake.

“That was on me, Jimin.” Yoongi held his hand, but Jimin didn’t want to feel his comfort knowing he was going to leave again. “We’ve been through this narrative time and time again. Aren’t you tired?”

“Of course I am, but I choose to look at the times when we were happy.” Jimin began to break down in tears. “That kept me going even when I wasn't."

“You’ve always been the stronger one in this relationship.” A tear began to fall on Yoongi’s cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

“I wasn’t okay when you left, why do you think I’ll be okay now?” This must be the Anger part in the 5 stages of grief, Jimin thought.

“Because I’m leaving you so we can both be happy!” Yoongi’s voice rose, trying to talk sense into Jimin. “I don’t want us to end up hating each other. I love you so much-.”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU LEAVING?”

“BECAUSE I’M NOT HAPPY!” The screamfest ended as quickly as it began. “Don’t you see how frustrating it is? To love you so much but not feel happy?” Yoongi let go of him to run his finger through his hair in frustration.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Jimin coughed a laugh, he knew he was fucked – laughing and crying at the same time.

“I know it doesn’t. But I know it’s selfish for me to stay in a relationship unhappy.” Yoongi looked at Jimin once more, letting him know how genuine he felt. “I know this is selfish too but we tried to make it work right? But nothing happened and it’s been years.”

Jimin began to speak slowly, carefully choosing the words he was about to say. “How long?” He stated, “How long have you’ve been feeling this way?”

“I don’t know, but one day I realized I was just dragging myself to see you. How I needed you because I was used to you because I love you.” Yoongi didn’t know if these were the right words to not hurt Jimin, but he knew he would hurt him whatever he’ll say. “You don’t deserve someone who just forces themselves to be with you.”

“Is Jin back?” Jimin wanted a logical explanation for this. So this must be the reason, right?

“No.” Yoongi answered straight, and Jimin knew in his heart that it was the truth.

“You know I always thought that if we were going to break up, it’s because one of us cheated.” Jimin was just throwing his thoughts unfiltered. “I never thought we would end like this.”

“Then let’s be thankful we didn’t end up like that.” Yoongi tried to suggest.

“You know the funny thing about this?” Jimin snickered. “It’s the fact that I have an engagement ring tucked in one of my drawers waiting for the right time.”

“I know about it,” Yoongi admitted slowly to Jimin’s surprise. “I was looking for my hoodie one time, and I saw it.”

“When did you see it?” Jimin didn’t know whether he wanted to know the answer.

“Last month.” Yoongi breathed.

“So.” Jimin was crying again. “You really thought this through.” He was breaking up knowing that Jimin was planning on proposing.

“I did.” Yoongi broke down this time. “I’m sorry, Jimin. But I can’t be the one you need. I can only love you, but I think we both know that’s not enough.”

“You have to choose me to. But you chose yourself.”

“Then choose yourself too,” Yoongi suggested. “You’ve worked so hard on us, it’s time we think of ourselves.”

Jimin wanted to stop him. He really did.

He thought about all the times they were together. All the rap scenes he went to support Yoongi, all the recitals Yoongi gave him flowers, all the times they explored different hair dyes - the orange one, the pink, the grey.

All the meals Yoongi cooked for him, all the music equipment he bought to surprise Yoongi, all the arguments about him leaving or them not having enough time for each other.

That one argument when Jimin blamed Yoongi for him being downgraded to a backup dancer again because he skipped practice due to his depression when he left.

All the birthdays they spent, especially the one where Yoongi came back. How could Jimin forget that?

How could Jimin forget Yoongi in general?

The way he never wanted anyone else to know he cared, but he really did. The way he would take care of him when he was sick. The way he would scold him if he practiced too hard to the point of exhaustion.

The way he shared his secret love for piano, a secret Jimin was proud that only he knew. The way Jimin shared his abandonment issues with his family and how relieved he was that Yoongi was his home now.

The way his hand engulfed his. The way he would slightly open his mouth when they kiss so his tongue can enter. The way he would feel above or beneath him. The way he would feel content whenever he says I love you.

He wanted to ask Yoongi if he thought of all of these?

What he was saying goodbye to?

Their past? 7 years of being together. Jimin literally grew up with him.

Their future? What about the plans of Jimin singing for one of his tracks because Yoongi discovered he had a talent for it too? And he just loved his voice.

Jimin wanted to ask all of these. But he realized like Yoongi, he was also tired.

The only thing that escaped from Jimin’s lips was. “Okay.”

Besides, he knew he couldn’t handle Yoongi’s answer. May it be a yes or a no. At least this time, he has the guts to say goodbye. What a morbid consolation prize, right?

“You know what sucks?” Jimin continued. “I still believe you when you tell me you love me.”

“Because I do.” Yoongi had a slight smile. “I really do.”

“I do too.” A vow without rings, a truth without commitments. “I love you, and I have done everything to make this work except for letting you go. So this is me, letting you go.”

“I’m really sorry. I wish I could be more for you but I can’t right now.” Yoongi pulled Jimin to hold him tight. “Maybe in the future, when we’re both okay...” Yoongi’s mind began to wander but Jimin pulled him back to the present.

“Maybe. But you’re right. Right now we have to be okay on our own. This is why we’re breaking up, right?”

“I love you, Jimin.” Yoongi was proud that Jimin understood him, but still devastated that it had to come to this.

“I love you, hyung.” Jimin repeated throughout the night, unknowingly making it a keepsake for Yoongi even if they’re not together anymore.

They shared their last kiss, their last moments in bed. Yoongi packed the remainder of his belongings in his bag, and they hugged until it was time for Yoongi to leave. Out of sight, out of mind, Jimin thought.

EPILOGUE

Love never meant staying, that was what his mom always explained ever since his dad left them to work abroad and never came back. His mom always assured him that his dad loved him dearly, that he worked hard for Jimin to go to university.

He never understood how people who leave can still love. He never understood why, until the day Yoongi went away.

He also realized he can’t find a home in a person, so he will build his own.

Jimin didn’t know what was harder, being left the first time or the second time. But all he knew was he needed to be better. He owed that to himself. He strived harder until he got the lead dancer position again.

He rekindled with Taehyung and it was as if nothing happened, maybe that’s what soulmates are supposed to be. A place you can always go back to, home or not.

“You’re not as devastated as the first time.” Taehyung pointed out while they were playing Mario Kart at Jimin's place.

“I listed all the things that reminded me of him,” Jimin explained. “I planned to steer clear of them but some things I realized he can’t take away from me."

“Like what?” Taehyung asked.

“Like winter.” Jimin paused the game. “Winter is my favorite season, but that was when he left me. Both times. But I can’t unlove winter because I was hurt right?”

“I’m proud of you, Jiminie.” Taehyung nudged his long-missed best friend.

“And you too.” Jimin pointed out. “You introduced us to each other. I can’t unlove you.”

Taehyung smiled at him. “I can’t unlove you too.” He rolled his eyes. “Even if you’re stupid sometimes.”

“I often wondered when would looking at my tattoo stop hurting, but now I sometimes forget it’s there. It didn’t remind me of him anymore, it just reminded me of me - a guy who wears his heart on his sleeves, or in my case, on my rib.” Jimin admitted before continuing “It’s been a year now, and he actually texted me if we can meet again.”

“Oh?” Taehyung raised a brow.

“But he said that I should be ready when we meet.” Jimin continued.

“Are you?” Jimin shook his head. “What did he say then?” Jimin knew he was okay in a way, but a big part of him wasn’t ready to meet Yoongi again. He pulled his phone from his pocket to retrieve the last text Yoongi sent.

He handed it over to Taehyung, and it just read “Nevermind, then.”

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #fanfic #yoonmin #park jimin #min yoongi #bts

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too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc · 5 years

Text

My little Squeaky Toy Pt.2 (Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Title: My little Squeaky Toy Part 2(Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Summary: After the London incident you tell your friends about it, not mentioning the fact that it had been Tom who helped you out. For some reason, Tom inspires you to draw again and you head to the nearest art gallery. The luck is on your side that day.

Warnings: cuteness overload, some fluff (like somewhere in the middle, maybe), clumsiness, Tom is a ridiculous gentleman (again), light flirting

Notes: I’ve written this instead of sleeping so I have absolutely no clue if it is even remotely good. (Pls don’t kill me) -> this is a repost from my old blog, so I’m sorry for tagging some of you guys in this again.

Word Count: 1936

Requested by: @eye106

Tag List: at the end

Here is the First Part

It had been three months.

Three months since you saw him in London. Three months in which he hadn’t written or phoned you.

But what did you expect? He was famous, a celebrity. He surely didn’t even remember your name. And, of course, he had better things to do than dealing with someone he had merely given directions to.

But you remembered everything. His legs, his hand lying gently but dominant on your lower back, his incredible fair eyes underneath the glasses, the freckles you had just barely been able to spot.

It had been three months and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him for more than one second.

Despite your embarrassment you had somehow hoped that he would have called, or sent a short message, or asked if you had arrived at the hotel.

You had told your friends about your experience and your encounter with Tom, although you hadn’t mentioned his surname, because you had known exactly that they would have laughed. That, they had done anyways, but at least they hadn’t scolded you for not recognizing him and for not asking him for a selfie or an autograph. However, you were certain that, even if you had known who the man had been, you wouldn’t have asked for something like that. After all, you were too shy.

The only thing you had hoped, wished for, was a small text, a call, anything.

But what did you anticipate? You had to scale down your expectations. You should have done that way earlier. But somehow your heart didn’t want to listen to your head. It kept looping around the first time you had met him, in which you hadn’t even recognized who the person standing next to you really had been. You had been falling for him before you had actually identified him. Since then you hadn’t been able to wipe that stupid grin off your face, let alone your thoughts which had been circling continuously around the freckles, and the smile, and the legs… oh, jeez, those legs…

It hadn’t only been his body that had attracted you almost instantly, but also his character and pure and polite behavior.

You let out an exhausted sigh. Being enamoured was sort of stressful. Although you had to admit that your urge to draw had increased since you had met him. The only problem now, was your lacking inspiration.

Earlier that week, you had heard about an art gallery in London and, of course, you just had had to buy a ticket almost immediately. On the one hand because you would be able to maneuver your thoughts to something else than that ridiculously wonderful man, on the other hand because you knew there were going to be beautiful paintings, and therefore, a lot of inspiration to finally draw again.

Although it was one of the closest art galleries, you needed over four hours to arrive via train. You had gotten up early to be there at the opening time, so that you would be able to use the whole day for spending your time in the gallery.

Of course you hadn’t forgotten to bring your little squeaky toy. A new one, naturally. Somehow you had to control your swearing, at least. But you had to admit that you weren’t as fond of the new one, as you had been fond of the old one. However, you kept reassuring yourself, that Tom was taking good care of it.

There had been some problems thanks to your terrible sense of orientation, so the idea to depart earlier had revealed itself as a pretty good one.

Just shortly after the gallery had opened, you arrived there and, thankfully, the line wasn’t that long. It was a modern exhibition, so you weren’t the only younger one to be there, which eased a bit of the tension off your shoulders.

You had to show your ID and let your bag be controlled and, of course, you got weird glances as the security guards spotted your squeaky toy. Besides all your fears, they had just put it into your bag again and had given the latter back to you, so you could finally pass them.

Once in the building, you had to leave your bag in one of the lockers in the hallway, which wasn’t a problem since you could easily put your mobile phone and your anti-stress toy into the pockets of your light jacket. You had dressed up, even had put effort into your hair. For the first time in months you actually felt like you looked beautiful. It scared you a bit, that newly developed self-esteem. But not because you didn’t like it, no. It scared you because you didn’t know where it came from. You had been insecure for a long time of your life and now, all of a sudden, you wanted to shout out how happy you felt, for all the world to hear.

The gallery was amazing. You couldn’t tell which painting fascinated you more. That was until you stopped in front of an impressive painting of a woman in a blue dress. The blue a piercing colour that caught your eye almost immediately. It was a royal blue that emphasised the natural curves and the fair skin of the woman. You didn’t know what exactly it was that made that painting so mesmerizingly stunning, but you just had to stop and admire it, agape and nearly frozen on the spot.

“Overwhelming, isn’t it?”

You hadn’t realised that someone stood beside you. The deep baritone made you jump slightly. You would recognize that voice everywhere. But how? How was that possible?

“The blue makes it all the more beautiful, don’t you think?” He smiled, definitely, you could literally hear him smirking.

Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen the light blue summer dress that didn’t even cover your knees (it wasn’t that short, though, but now you felt like it was). You felt your face flushing and you continued to stare at the painting, unable to move or react in another way.

“Am I allowed to say that you look rather lovely today?”

That didn’t help you with your blushing at all. Thanks to that you were sure that your skin must have turned as red as a tomato, or as something in an even darker shade.

“Thank you.” You finally mastered to look at him. But momentarily you wished you hadn’t done so.

In the broad daylight that shone through the large windows of the gallery, he looked even more beautiful than the last time you had seen him in person. He wore a cream-coloured suit with a white button-down shirt, which fitted his slim figure more than perfectly. With the better lighting you could easily spot the light freckles you adored so much. When your gaze finally travelled up to his face, you nearly forgot to breath for a second or two. His hair and the beard hadn’t changed but his smile left you weak and in awe.

It still was a miracle to you how someone could look that good.

“Still on vacation?” After fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, he put his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Actually…no.” You smiled awkwardly and averted your gaze. “I’m hoping to get inspired by some of the paintings here, to be honest.”

For a brief instant, he remained silent, focussed on the artwork in front of the both of you again.

“And? Did it work?”

“That I don’t know yet.” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Are you an artist?” A soft warmth filled your chest due to the genuine interest he showed. It made him all the more adorable.

“No… I mean, not really. It’s more like a hobby.” You bit your lower lip as you felt his gaze on you again.

“I like what you did with your hair, it looks rather nice. One can see your artistic giftedness through that.”

You hadn’t known that it was possible to blush even more. But you did.

“Sorry. Did I go too far?” Tom hurried to ask, obviously insecure himself now. Though you weren’t sure about that. It could have been his natural gentleman like behaviour as well.

“No! No, it’s fine, really… I…” You stumbled over your own words and paused to collect yourself again. “Thank you.”

“(Y/N), right?”

Oh god, he remembered your name! After three months he still knew how you were being called.

He strolled down the corridor in a slow pace, so you could easily keep up with his tempo. Considering the height difference, you still had to run.

“You are remembering my name.”

“Of course, I am. After all, I got this utterly beautiful anti-swearing squeaky toy from you. Which, I have to admit, is rather useful from time to time.” He didn’t tease you, quite the contrary. His voice sounded honest and candid.

“Is it really?” Your instinct told you to be careful about instantly believing in what he had said, but your heart nearly burst at the compliment, pounding too fast and loud in your chest.

“Yes, it is!” There it was. The excitement you had seen on him only in some of his interviews so far. Slightly childish, but in an absolute sweet and cute way.

“Don’t you get weird glances by your colleagues when you carry it around?”

“Sure. But that doesn’t matter. It’s important to keep on doing things that help you and that are good for you. That is why I don’t think that a squeaky toy that helps you deal with an urge to swear is in any way something strange or odd.”

At first you didn’t believe a word he said. No one (at least no one you knew) had told you something like that until that moment. Tom really was up for a lot of surprises.

“You’re the first one to say something like that. Usually everyone thinks I’m just odd.” Fumbling with said toy in the pocket of your jacket, you smiled when you both came to a stop in front of another painting. Sadly, your whole focus lay on Tom, now that you had finally met him again.

“Well, if they are defining odd, what is normal, then?”

A soft chuckle escaped you when you heard Tom say that. You thought of a witty response, but none came to your mind, so you stayed silent and observed his profile for a while. His perfectly shaped nose, the sharp outlines of his jaw, his Adam’s apple…God, that man was ideal.

Eventually, he did notice that you were staring at him and shifted, looking a bit nervous all of a sudden. You could tell he wasn’t uncomfortable by the way he slightly turned towards you, even leaning down a bit, and returned the look, a hint of amusement reflecting in his eyes.

You viewed the rest of the gallery in a peaceful silence, just here and there exchanging a few words about the paintings and your thoughts about them. It was amazing. You had never experienced something like that, even though you weren’t talking that much. For some strange reason, walking next to each other and relatively close to each other, felt really intimate at that moment.

“So, when are you leaving London again?” He turned around to face you, as you reached the exit of the art gallery.

“Today, probably.” You couldn’t cover up the slightly depressed undertone that was evidently audible in your voice.

He nodded, clearly fumbling for words.

“I was wondering if you might want to meet again? Maybe for dinner?”

Tag List: @fiammablade3466 @zainab2 @the-lululemon @superanimenatural @blackirisposts @thejemersoninferno @nwmtagsb @signalnotfound0 @emyhonny @kimanne723 @alexakeyloveloki @spookycatqueen @disneyoncerlover815 @aaminah12 @mrshiddleston-uk @loobnknoob @lykaonimagines @caticorndancingonpainbows @finney13s @alexxandra-the-great @lilyrosebae @sarahivi @michellearel1

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #hiddles #fanfic #my work #fluff #romance #tom hiddleston fluff #art gallery #london #writing #reader

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 6 years

Text

Midnight Muse

I hope I managed to capture the angst correctly. I really like this.

Masterlist (And don’t forget, requests are still open)

Ever since you were young, only two things had ever been consistent, your art, and the beautiful man in your dreams. Well, he hadn't always been so beautiful and neither had your art, but they both grew with you. Ever since you were a little kid another person had always been in your dreams. You had never heard his voice, but you had watched him grow, watched as he dyed his hair different colors, and tried different styles. During the day, you were simply an art student, but at night the two of you played out strange and beautiful dreams. Sometimes you were a prince and a princess dancing at a ball with unfamiliar music playing in the back, other times you were saving him from a storm in the ocean, but you were always together, whether it be in dream or nightmare.

In the mornings when your alarm broke you from your beautiful revelry, you'd grab the nearest sketchbook and draw whatever he had looked like that night. Your sketchbooks were your life, and in them, the man of your dreams, but somehow, today you had managed to forget one of them in another class.

You ran across the college campus, trying to get back to the pottery classroom before the teacher started questioning your drawings. When you threw open the door, it wasn't the professor that held your book, but your classmate Xu Minghao.

“Excuse me, that's mine.” He looked up from your work, peering at you over the rim of his wire spectacles.

“You drew these?” He inquired, gesturing to the book.

“Yes, can I have it back please, I'm running late.” He obliged, closing the book and setting it in your hand.

“Do you know what you're putting in for the end of the year gallery for your evaluation?” He asked just as you had managed to get one foot outside. You turned back to him where he was nonchalantly examining his nails.

“Not yet, why?”

“Well, we don't have many pieces in the photo-realistic section. You should submit some pieces, I'm sure they'll end up with wall space.” Wall space was coveted, and the photo-realism section was where only top students presented their pieces. You had initially planned to submit one of your landscapes or maybe even an abstract piece but Xu Minghao, literally one of the top artists and co-coordinator of the gallery, was complimenting your photo-realism.

“I- I wouldn't even know which piece.” You stuttered finally, coming back into the room. He motioned for your book, casually flipping through it once you handed it to him. How long had he been looking at your art? He paused at one of the pages.

“This one I like, It has potential. Most of them do.” He offered, handing the book back to you. It was your dream boy, leaning on the ledge of a bridge overlooking the ocean as the sun set behind him. It wasn't done. You hadn't added nearly any color, save for his eyes, and the bridge was completely plain. “Here.” Minghao handed you a piece of paper with his number scrawled on it. “Finish a few of these and send me pictures, I'll see which one's you should submit.”

“Are you sure?” You tucked the number into your sketchbook and hugged it close to your chest. “Why do you care?”

“How do you know the man in your drawings?” He answered your question with one of his own.

“I-I don't” You mumbled.

“You don't? Then how can you draw him so well? The human mind can't make up faces, you must have seen him somewhere.” You looked everywhere but him, not seeing the smirk firmly planted on his lips.

“Its- its weird.” You really didn't want to tell this complete stranger about the dream boy.

“I won't tell anyone, I promise.” He assured you.

“He's from my dreams.” You said after a moment of silence. “I've seen him since we were kids.”

“Ah, okay. Well, text me soon so I can have your number. See you, Y/n” He left you alone in the room, staring after him as he so casually disappeared out the door.

“What, the fuck?” You questioned yourself. ~~

Jeonghan really didn't want to come to Minghao's gallery. All the pieces Hao had submitted he made all the members vote on so he would know their favorites, but for some reason, he was still forcing Jeonghan to go.

“Why am I here again?” He asked the younger man.

“There's something I need to show you,” Hao replied, dragging Han past most of the art towards a specific section.

“I'm not even getting a chance to look at the art,” Han complained.

“Hyung, you don't care about the art, but you'll care about this.” Hao pulled him in front of a series of paintings hanging on the wall.

“Its art.” Han shrugged.

“Hyung, look,” Hao stressed. “Really look at them.” Han huffed, pushing his hair back before looking at the works. He actually gasped out loud when he finally realized what was before him. It was him. He was in every painting, and every painting was one of the dreams. There was one of him on the black horse from when he was only a teenager, there was one of him as a soldier and a prince.

“That’s, that’s me.” He gasped again, pointing at the canvasses.

“Yeah, it is.” Hao nodded excitedly.

“How are they drawing me?” He turned back to the paintings. “And with such detail.”

“She says she's seen you in her dreams. Its destiny. She must be your soul mate.” Hao shook Han's arm with enough force Han thought it might pop out of its socket.

“But what if she isn't the girl from my dreams? That happens sometimes, I'd hate to be one of the exceptions.” Han reasoned.

“If everyone thought that way no one would ever find their soulmates.” Hao practically whined.

“I'm not going to look for her. And you aren't going to do anything about it, understood? Don't tell her you know me, I don't want to know her.” Hao stared up at his older friend in shock.

“You don't want to meet the love of your life?”

“Who said she's the love of my life? I'll decide who the love of my life is, thank you very much.” Han pulled away from Hao, clenching his fists so the younger man couldn't see his hands shake. “Have fun at the after-party Hao, and make sure you call one of us for a ride home. I'll see you later.” Han stormed away, leaving Hao speechless for the first time in a long time.

On the other side of a large vase of flowers, Y/n stood, having seen Jeonghan the moment he had walked in the gallery, and having heard everything. Her soulmate wanted nothing to do with her. Blinking up at the ceiling, Y/n forced back her tears, and with a shaking breath, she plastered on a fake smile and bounded over to Minghao.

“Hao!” She called, tapping him on the shoulder. He automatically beamed.

“Y/n, you look great.” He commented, eyes trailing down the sleek white and silver dress she wore.

“Thank you, and you were so right, I've been getting scouted by art galleries all over, who would have thought a 19-year-old would have been even looked at by the curator of the Louvre.” You gushed, pretending not to have even known Hao had come with a friend.

“The Louvre?” Hao gasped, “That’s amazing.”

“I know, I've actually been offered a place at an art school in Paris.” You seemed so excited, Hao couldn't help but be excited with you.

“Are you going to accept?”

“An all expenses paid, extended vacation in Paris? Why wouldn't I? Maybe my soulmate will be there?” It felt wrong to lie to the person who had quickly become one of your closest friends and little did you know, Minghao felt the same way.

“Maybe! When do you leave?”

“Oh I still have to finalize things, but I'll keep you updated.” You promised.

As you promised, you kept Minghao updated. You met up only a few more times before you moved away, the last time being the day before you flew out. You both tried to remain friends as long as possible, but with his band picking up and your schooling becoming more and more inundating, the friendship seemed to fade away, save for encouraging comments on Instagrams and the obligatory happy birthday wishes.

Five years passed quickly for both of you, you continued to see Jeonghan in your dreams, but you both became distant. Neither of you spoke about your dreams to others, instead pretending as if you simply didn't have soulmates, which wasn't unheard of.

Minghao was almost certain he was never going to see you again, until, one day as he was repacking his bag for the European leg of their tour, he received a text message. A real one, not a message on Instagram like usual.

From: Y/n L/n

Minghao, I know its been a very long time, but I saw that your coming tour dates correspond with the opening of my gallery. Would you and your bandmates like to come to the opening? I can reserve tickets for all of you.

To: Y/n L/n

I'd love to, but let me speak to my brothers and our managers, and I'll let you know for certain.

When the day of the gallery opening arrived, the boys and their managers found themselves outside of a gorgeous building, being prevented from entering.

“We're friends of Y/n's, she said she reserved tickets for us,” Minghao explained as best he could, but the French guard wouldn't budge, instead muttering into his walkie talkie. A moment later, a woman in a crisp suit stepped out from the building and made her way to them. Her dark hair was pulled up into a tight bun, she carried a clipboard, and gave the group a bright red smile as she approached.

“Madame Roxanna, these men claim to know Madame Y/n.”

“Qui, they do. These are her favored guests. Our apologies for the delay, please, this way.”

“Minghao, who is this woman you know?” Seungcheol asked. Minghao just smiled.

The inside of the building was just as beautiful as the outside. The group was led into a room with a large angel statue facing away from them in the center.

“Minghao! You made it.” A woman, draped in a flowing silver dress excused herself from the conversation she was having with some old socialite and floated over to them.

“Y/n?” Minghao gasped. “The pictures don't do you justice.” He complimented.

“You've only gotten more handsome as well.” She clasped his hand, kissing his cheeks in classic French fashion. “And these must be your bandmates, its a pleasure to meet you. I must say I've become quite a fan.” She smiled warmly, making Jeonghan's heart twist as he remembered the last gallery of hers he went to and all the things he had declared. “Please, enjoy the party, have some fun.” She locked eyes with Jeonghan for a split second before returning to Minghao. “Come, I have so much to show you.”

As they walked away the others began to disperse, taking in the paintings, and plates and sculptures that adorned the many rooms of the gallery.

Jeonghan moved slowly through the pieces, admiring the way her brush strokes were evident on her acrylic paintings. Making his way back to the first room, the angel room, he maneuvered around the large statue to see its face, finally understanding why so many people had been staring.

The angel was him.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but he was sure people were taking pictures.

“This is my favorite piece, “Cupid, the Killer Angel” it took nearly five years to complete.” Jeonghan recognized your voice but continued to look at the statue.

“Why such a heartbreaking name?”

“Because the muse broke my heart.” Jeonghan's heart twisted, and he wondered if she had noticed how distant he had become in their dreams.

“How did he do that?”

“I heard you all those years ago, Jeonghan.” His name sounded so right in her voice, but his heart sank to his stomach at her words. “When you declared you didn't want to know me. When you forced someone as sweet as Minghao to lie to his friend, when you turned your cheek towards fate and became a coward.” Her words dripped both venom and sadness. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what. She sighed heavily, “And yet, I cannot hate you.” He finally turned to her, finding her staring up her statue, “Had you not said all that, I would never have run away to Paris, and all this,” She gestured to the expanse of the building. “This would have never happened.”

“I'm sure it would have, you're an amazing artist.” She finally looked him in the eyes, eyes she had seen every night for most of her life, and yet they somehow still seemed so foreign.

“But I would have only ever painted you, I wouldn't have created this, or any of the paintings here, because I would have been too busy chasing after the idea that you might have loved me.”

“Y/n.” Jeonghan began.

“Don't, there's no need to lie to me now. After all these years, I know you too well.” She closed her eyes, holding up a hand to stop him. “Enjoy the gallery Jeonghan, then please leave, don't break my heart further.” She dropped her hand, walking away before he had the chance to say anything.

As he watched her make her way to the other end of the room a sudden burst of courage washed over him. He leaped up onto the pedestal that “Cupid” stood on and cleared his throat, wanting to figure out his words.

“Jeonghan, what the hell? Get down from there.” Seungcheol ordered.

“You're right. I was a coward, I am a coward. I was too scared of accidentally breaking your heart, I didn't want to give you a chance.” You spun to face him, as did everyone else in the room. “I never wanted to hurt you and yet I did just that. I made Minghao lie to you, but worst of all, I made you lie to yourself. I made you try to convince yourself that fate was wrong, that I wasn't meant for you, that you aren't meant for me.” He felt a weight lifting off his shoulders even as security officers made their way into the room. “But I was a fool. I am a fool. I am your fool. I will always be your fool, even if you decide never to speak to me again, if you decide to cut all ties, to never sleep again in order to never see me again, I will still be your fool, I will still be in love with you. I tried to pretend I didn't want you, I tried to pretend I wasn't in love with you but I am. Every time I perform a love song, I'm thinking of you, every time I see a happy couple in the street or see soulmates find each other, I wish it was us.” Jeonghan blew out a breath. “What I'm trying to say is, I am so sorry, for breaking your heart, for being a dick, for ruining yours and Hao's friendship. I know saying sorry isn't enough, and it probably doesn't help that I'm standing on a statue of myself. I know this seems like a publicity stunt or a ploy to get you to fall for me, but I swear, on every god out there, that I mean every word I have said.” The room was silent for a few moments as you simply stared at him, making his heart race faster with every passing second. “Please say something, anything, even if its just ordering those officers to arrest me.”

“Jeonghan, I can't just forgive you for five years of utter suffering.” You started, looking off to the side as you thought, “Not in one moment, but if you mean it, you truly mean everything you just said, well.” You finally locked eyes with him, a smile dancing across your lips. “Then I suppose, its a start.”

“I mean it, I do, I would do anything to earn your forgiveness.” He gushed, making you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” He nodded.

“Then get off my damn statue, pabo.”

#yoon jeonghan #Seventeen Jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #Seventeen #soulmates #goodwriterwithbadhabits #request

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cost-of-chaos · 6 years

Text

All you Need is Love (Chapter Three)

Roger Taylor x OC

Word Count: 1.8k+

Warnings: Phonesex, masturbation

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

It had just past 9 and I had finally found myself some peace from nosy relatives, in the corner of the grand ballroom. I sat with my back against the baroque style panelling, cradling my cake in my lap as a sat cross-legged on the floor, giving some respite to my aching feet. I should have insisted against these new pair of heals, since when is wearing heels in for six hours ever a good idea?

I still couldn’t get my head around the fact that my 22 year old sister was getting married to some annoyingly pompous asshole she met while studying at her fancy pansy American college. As I watched her sway offbeat to a poor rendition of Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by a tone-deaf wedding singer, I couldn’t help but judge her a little bit. Don’t get me wrong the song brings a tear to my eyes on a good day, but she was literally throwing her life away for someone she met a year ago. I reached for my flute of champagne and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

When I was her age, I’d only just started dating Roger, now here we are seven years later and I’ve not thought of marriage once. I’ve never been happier with my life. My art is growing in popularity, gallery showings are becoming more frequent and living together with Roger has been just as amazing as I thought it would be. We are best friends, lovers and dare I say even soul mates, but alas my little sister was showing more commitment to her man than I had ever shown to the love of my life. All we had to show for our relationship was a rented out flat and a cat. Just like that, I was feeling inferior to my baby sister for what felt like the hundredth time this week.

I was transfixed by the happy couple, in the middle of the dance floor completely oblivious to the world around them and I began to really miss my man after a week apart. Right. That’s it, enough of listening to lame music surrounded by most boring people in the whole of Connecticut making fools of themselves on the dance floor and enough weaving to avoid horribly awkward conversations with distant relatives. I stood up and walked up to the waiter who had just popped the cork of a Moët Chandon, I swiped it from his hand and kept walking, I needed to get drunk. I took another glance at my surroundings once more, scratch that, I need to get drunk and be alone.

After finding my way back to my room after getting lost in the rabbit warren that was this fancy hotel I undid the zip on my dress all the way down to the bright pink bow sitting over my ass. I shimmied out of the heavy taffeta and flopped onto the large bed, open bottle of champagne still clutched in my hand.

I brought the bottle to my lips and took a large gulp of the bubbly yellow liquid. I nestled the bottle between my breasts so I could take my hair out of its intricate updo. As I was removing the many clips keeping my hair up, I noticed the underwear I was wearing. It was the pale pink lace underwear set which Roger had bought for me for Valentine’s Day last year. And just like that, I was overwhelmed by the desperate need to hear his voice.

I pulled the phone off the bedside table and dialled the number he’d told me he’d be reachable on for the next couple of days. “Hee-loo” I heard the groggy raspy voice I was so used to hearing when I woke up.

“Hiya Rog” I said sheepily, now feeling slightly guilty for waking him up.

“Ronnie, its 4 in the morning, is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“Everything is fine… sorry for waking you up I just miss you is all” I said, wrapping the phone cord around my finger as I counted the ceiling tiles above me. “I miss you soo much, your touch, your kisses, I want to feel you next to me, holding me. I long to feel your skin next to mine and feel you inside of me again,”

“Oh!” Roger exclaimed with excitement as he realised what was happening.

“A week is too long Roggie.”

“I miss you too V, You wanna know what I’d do if you were with me right now? I’d kiss you, leaving a trail from your lips to your neck, between your tits, to that tender spot on your upper thigh, leaving hickeys all over your body. I want to feel your wetness through your panties while I tease you.” I was growing wetter with every word he was saying, I could feel my breathing deepen as my desire for him grew.

“Alright love, I better get back to sleep, I have to get up early in the morning”

“Oh no you don’t bucko! “You’ve gotten me all wet, now you’re not going anywhere until I cum”. I took another swig of the champagne, this was going to be fun.

“Did I tell you what I bought the other day while I was in New York City for the bachelorette party? I visited a little store called Eve’s Garden and they have all sorts of wonderful inventions. Truly wonderful inventions. I bought one and it’s been keeping me company while I’ve been soo many miles away from you but… I think this will be muuuch better”. I could hear Rogers breath hitch through the phone when he realised what I was talking about. I scooted off the bed and rifled through my bag until I found the wand. I plugged it into the socket and laid back down on the bed.

“You ready baby?” I asked, in the most sultry innocent voice I could manage.

“More ready than you could imagine, I’m already so hard thinking about you baby girl.”

“Good. Picture this. We’re in our apartment. I push you up against the wall and I crash my lips onto yours, I lick your lips for permission to enter and you quickly allow…” I let out a quiet moan as I turned on the device and the vibrations made me arch my back up off the bed in pleasure. “I trail my hands up the back of your shirt and I feel our muscles relax. I kiss you breathless before moving my kisses down your neck. I pull off your shirt and place wet kisses down your chest and trace down the waistband of your pants.” I licked my lips as I thought of Rogers manhood, “I miss sucking that big cock baby.”

The line was silent, and I was worried I was the only one still turned on but he faintly heard him moan, before speaking again. “Sorry love, I got a little carried away, you’re so hot, is your pussy nice and wet for me angel?”

“Mmhmmm” Was all I could murmer into the phone, even him calling me angel was almost hot enough to be my undoing, I needed him to keep going and keep going now.”

“I kiss you deeply, breaking the kiss only to remove your shirt, I reach around and unclasp your bra, moving my kisses lower and sneaking my hands past your thighs, under the hem of your skirt to your knickers, and baby they’re so wet for me already, are you wet for me baby?”

I let out a strangled moan. “Roger, I miss you, I need you. I want to feel you, I need to feel you inside of me”

I could hear Roger’s own breathing starting to become heavy, he moaned as I begged for his cock. I want you to suck those fingers of yours love, insert them into your tight pussy.” I eagerly followed his orders, loving this sense of dominance which I didn’t see an awful lot of and I quickly found my g spot.

“Roggie… Rog… I’m going to cum baby” I said as I bucked my hips violently into my hand.

“Love I’m not far behind you” He said breathlessly. It only took seconds but I could already feel myself start to shake, and my moans of extasy were soon joined by Rogers as we rode out or orgasms together.

I turned the massager off and dropped it beside me on the bed, as I lifelessly lay there panting, my ear glued to the phone listening Rog do the same thing. After our breathing finally regulated, I was the first one to speak.

“I really miss you babe, I can’t believe we still have a week left until I get to see you again”. I said, sadness washed over me as I realised I was only halfway through my trip to America.

“I miss you too V, but it doesn’t have to be another week if you don’t want it to be.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, truly confused as to what he was talking about.

“Look inside your suitcase, I believe there may be something in there with your intimates which might help us out.” He said, I could tell he was smiling on the other end of the line. I jumped up with haste and excitement and fell to the floor where my suitcase lay open beside the bed. I rifled through the suitcase until I found a little piece of paper, I pulled it out and as I read it, I couldn’t contain a scream.

“I take it that you like my little surprise?” He asked chuckling. Sitting in my hand was a one-way ticket from Bradley International to Narita International, for tomorrow morning.

“Oh my god! Roger! I can’t believe you did this! I’m going to be in your arms this time tomorrow! I don’t know what to say!”

“You don’t need to say anything! I honestly can’t wait love. I don’t know how I lasted this long without you... Is that totally pathetic?”

“No! It’s like magic to my ears, because if I’m being completely honest, I’ve been missing you like crazy! It’s all love central over here aswell which isn’t making things any easier!”

“Try being surrounded by thousands of girls screaming for you! And the guys… well, let's just say they’re making the most of the attention” My stomach dropped, I hadn’t actually thought of all the girls who would be throwing themselves all over the boys over there.

I sat there, frozen in place as a sense of dread slowly filled my stomach as my mind flipped between different scenes of Roger in precarious situations.

“I love you, Veronica. I can’t wait to see you later, I have a car organised to pick you up from the airport, I really wanted to do it myself, but apparently, there is a safety issue. I’ve missed you so much... No girl even comes close to you.” He said, reassuring me. Why was I even worried, I knew how amazing he was, of course he’s not going to hurt me. “Well love, I’d love a round two but I need to get up in a few hours, and I believe someONE has some packing to do.”

I groaned in response, knowing our conversation had to come to an end. “ Love you babe, thanks for this chat, I’ll be seeing you later!”

“Love you Ron, keep that pussy ready for me because I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to see straight.” The line went deed and I looked around my mess of a room, and back at my large electronic friend beside me. The packing could wait a little longer, I wasn’t quite ready to pack this baby up.

Tags: @perriwiinkle @theglowissodivine

#ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben hardy! roger taylor x oc #roger taylor #roger taylor x oc #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor imagine #bohemian rhapsody #queen #queen imagine #fanfiction #all you need is love

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sundaynightbombers-blog · 5 years

Text

TONIGHT WE DINE IN THE BASEMENT; OR, IF A CGI WOLF IS KILLED WITH A REAL SPEAR, IS IT MURDER?

Have you ever watched/read/listened to something you knew was bad, but did so purely because of how popular it is or was at some point? Ever gone on a disco bender to try and travel back to the seventies, mostly because you can afford only used records and not cocaine? Hosted a French new wave marathon because you keep hearing how wonderful Jean-Luc Godard is, despite him only having maybe three good movies? Gone to one of those hip small art galleries to see what’s new in modern art, except you don’t why that woman is birthing raw eggs?

In this article, I’d like to detail my findings from a recent excursion into a cultural phenomenon years after the fact: I watched Zack Snyder’s 300.

Background: 300 is based on a 1998 graphic novel by controversial-and-not-in-a-fun-way cartoonist Frank Miller (see Sin City and The Dark Knight Returns). The film, released in 2006, directed by Snyder, and starring Gerard Butler (who is not a terrible actor, let’s be real here), was in fact stupidly successful at the box office with an international gross of $456 million against its $60 million budget. However, critics were completely divided, and this days the film is considered not very good.

Total disclosure, it is a bloated, tan-coloured, man sweat-flavoured lemon of a movie.

But why was it such a big deal? Well, I think we can blame the 80s. Specifically, 1982’s Conan the Barbarian. See, Conan was also a massive success upon release, especially among young adult males, similar to 300. Both films were adaptations of successful works within geek culture at their respective times, both made by well-regarded creators, and the fan hype machine obviously had a role in both films being hits. But I think there might be something else, something more… sociological, going on.

Consider: Both films feature a main character who embodies absolute masculinity. They both contain things like honour and respect, all amongst manly men, as emotional cores for the audience. These are films that explicitly tell male-orientated stories, something I’d argue rarely happens. A lot of films that’re made for male audiences are less blatant about it; there’ll sometimes be female love interests, themes and ideas that aren’t absolute in how they addressed from a men’s perspective, and are typically trying to appeal to wider audiences (usually). Movies are about making money at the end of the day, so they need to throw a wide net. These movies? Their net is shaped like a scrotum and carries enough testosterone to power a brigade of Interceptors down a highway.

Now, it’s extremely easy to say that most films cater to male audiences, and I will not deny that. There is truth to it, but in the case of Conan the Barbarian and 300, these films are so grossly direct in who they’re trying to get to see them, it’s kind of amazing. Neither film came out at a time when their genre- swords and sandals- was popular, they were not Oscar bait or major blockbusters, and frankly should’ve seen minor success, let alone become flops. But no, these films soldiered on (literally) and ended up being cultural touchstones for their respective generations of men. They presented male-oriented stories in a way that appealed directly to them. They gave them characters that personified a sense of masculinity that, I would argue, young males secretly desired. They wanted father figures that, in their mind, could treat them like a real man treats his son. It gave them something they didn’t get.

But is any of this a good thing? I dunno. I know some will say it isn’t, some will say (not quite as loudly) that it does, but frankly, I don’t think it really matters. Check it, Conan is now a mere cult film that only appeals to fans of Robert E. Howard or Arnold Schwarzenegger. 300 is basically a joke these days. A too-little-too-late sequel in 2014 confirmed that it had absolutely no staying power, Snyder’s career has gone on to achieve rather abysmal depths (side note: I feel Justice League is somewhat forgivable; he understandably and rightfully left due to a personal tragedy, and I think the film was doomed regardless of his involvement or not), and Frank Miller is seen as a senile old man who had a pretty racist/batshit-insane phase in the 2000s that completely ruined his winning streak. Hell, the graphic novel 300 has become his last masterwork. All that is left in the film’s wake are countless hours of ‘this is Sparta’ memes buried deep in the recesses of the internet, as well as a mediocre and forgotten PlayStation Portable beat-em-up.

I want to end on a few small notes. Firstly, as much as I disliked 300 (no, really, it’s pretty godawful), I did get sucked into it at the end. When the 300 Spartans are dying on the battlefield, and Michael Fassbender grabs Gerard Butler’s hand, and they have an exchange expressing their mutual respect for each other, it kinda got me. The climax is effective, not gonna lie. Also, the blue screen work is sooooo fucking bad, it’s actually distracting.

Finally, what about the book 300? Well, it’s not bad. I kinda dig it. The real kicker is that, Snyder recreated the graphic novel shot-for-shot, and in the process diminished the effectiveness of those scenes. You also see Frank Miller do what he does best one last time, which is made more sad as it makes you remember why Miller was so highly-regarded as an artist; 300 came right before the abysmal The Dark Knight Strikes Back, but it wouldn’t be until the immensely offensive Holy Terror that his reign would ultimately end. Basically, everything after this has never reached those heights in the 80s and 90s. This is his last masterwork, and it’s kind of a fitting one to end on. Didn’t give me much insight, but as a fan of comics it was not without merit.

Too bad we got a shit movie out of it.

~M.C.

#300 #frank miller #zack snyder #notes of a dungeon dweller #bad movies #conan the barbarian #80s movies #Arnold Schwarzenegger #Gerard Butler #film criticism?#masculinity

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180abroad · 5 years

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Days 154-157: Vienna (The Habsburg Hustle)

For centuries, Vienna was the de facto capital of Europe. From here, the Habsburg dynasty pulled the strings of the most powerful kingdoms and empires on the continent--when it wasn’t ruling them directly.

So it’s fitting that much of our time in this city was spent in the Hofburg, a sprawling complex of palaces, treasuries, and art galleries that once housed the Habsburgs and continues to house much of their wealth.

And their wealth is really all that seems to remain of the Habsburgs.

I remember a bit about the Habsburg empires from my high-school AP European History class, and a bit more from our time in Spain and Eastern Europe earlier in our trip. But it is a long and complex dynasty, not a simple monarchical line like the kings and queens of England or France. Like I said before, the Habsburgs were string-pullers and kingmakers. They eventually took direct control over most of Europe, but as a complex empire of countless intertwined kingdoms, duchies, and principalities.

Jessica and I went into the Hofburg hoping to gain a clearer understanding and greater appreciation for how the Habsburgs came into their power and expanded it over the centuries. We did get a little of that, but mainly what we got was an in-your-face display of just how obscenely wealthy the Habsburgs became by the end of their reign in 1918. Seriously, I didn’t think that anything could top the gilded grandeur of the Vatican, but this blows it away.

Our visit started humbly enough with Sunday mass at the historic Augustinian church. Originally part of an Augustinian abbey, it was later incorporated into the Hofburg and converted into the imperial chapel.

I feel a bit sacrilegious saying this, but as a tourist, Sunday mass at the Augustinian church is a great way to kill three birds with one stone. You get to see the Imperial chapel, witness a traditional Catholic mass in one of the great historical bastions of Catholicism, and you basically get a free Mozart concert from the church’s choir and orchestra.

And we definitely weren’t the only people to think so. This was easily the most crowded church service we attended during the entire trip.

On our visit, they performed Mozart’s “Missa Brevis in G Major.” It was Mozart’s first full mass, written when he was twelve years old.

Beyond its historical significance, the church itself is fairly plain. The right side of the church is built up against the side of the imperial apartments, and instead of stained glass windows, the windows to the right of the choir connect to the apartments themselves--so the Habsburgs could attend mass without leaving their parlor.

There is a room in the church filled with the ashes chamber filled with urns containing the cremated hearts of dozens of Habsburg rulers. We didn’t get to see it, however, since it was on the other side of a chapel being used for a service.

Next, we toured the imperial apartments themselves. And of course, decorating the entrance were statues of our old friends Hercules and his club.

Outside the grand entrance is an exposed section of Roman ruins. Like virtually all European dynasties, the Habsburgs were obsessed with linking their rule to the heritage of the Roman Empire.

The apartments are divided into three exhibits: the imperial silver collection, an exhibit on the mysterious and misunderstood Empress Sisi, and the apartments themselves.

Going in, I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing the silverware exhibit and would have been more than happy to skip through it. Jessica wanted to see it, however, and it ended up being absolutely spectacular.

The collection was much more than just silverware. It started with room full of decorative baking pans and dessert molds, then moved onto increasingly extraordinary tableware and centerpieces.

This is where we really got our first taste of Habsburg opulence. But only a taste.

Room after room were filled with silver, gilt, and ceramic services representing centuries of evolving tastes and diplomatic relations. Each service involved a monumental level of craftsmanship and material expense. Some sets were so valuable that they were literally used as bargaining chips between countries looking to end or avoid a war.

It just went on and on and on. Not only were the pieces nearly countless, each one was a masterpiece of artistry and craftsmanship.

And as massive as the current collection is, it only represents a fraction of the original collection, much of which was sold or melted down for bullion during the Napoleonic wars.

Next up was the Sisi Museum. Sisi--or rather Empress Elisabeth of Austria--was the wife of Emperor Franz Josef from 1854 until her assassination in 1898. Sisi now holds a mythical reputation for her beauty and innocence, but this exhibit explains the darker truth.

It starts with her childhood in Bavaria as the daughter of a duke. She enjoyed a relatively informal, carefree childhood until she was arranged to marry Emperor Franz Josef at the age of 15. An introvert with a hatred of confinement, everything about palace life was abhorrent to her. Descending into melancholy, she increasingly shut herself away from palace life to read, write poetry, and ride horses. She was a famously skilled and daring rider.

As she aged, Sisi became increasingly obsessed with maintaining her famed beauty. She adopted intense dieting and exercise regimens, exotic cosmetic treatments, and wore extremely tight corsets. For almost all of her life, the 5′8″ Sisi maintained a weight of 100 pounds and a 20 inch waist.

(There's a statue of Sisi at the beginning of the museum, and Jessica and I both noticed that her face looked quite a bit like Jessica's mom (and my aunt) Donna. For whatever reason, however, the resemblance doesn't really carry into the photographs and paintings of Sisi.)

At the age of 58, things took a turn for the worse for Sisi when her only son, Crown Prince Rudolf, died in an apparent murder-suicide pact with his mistress. Not only did this devastate Sisi and her marriage with Franz Josef, it destabilized the Habsburg line of succession and accelerated the deterioration of the empire that lead to the outbreak of World War I.

(That night, Jessica and I happened to watch The Illusionist, which our host had on DVD. We knew that it took place in Vienna, but we had no idea that it’s plot revolves around a fictionalized version of Rudolf’s murder-suicide. The longer this trip goes on, the more ridiculous the coincidences we run into become.)

From then on, Sisi retreated from social life entirely and took to wearing only black. In her writings, she fantasized about wearing a veil so that she would never have to be seen by anyone again. When she was discussed publicly at all, it was with disapproval of her absenteeism and her cold treatment of her husband, who was an extraordinarily popular emperor.

Finally, her story came to an end when she was stabbed to death by an Italian anarchist in Geneva. He had traveled to the city to assassinate someone else, but he changed his plans at the last minute and killed Sisi instead.

It was only after her death that Sisi became a publicly revered figure. Emperor Franz Josef’s intense grief inspired memorials to Sisi across the country, and as savvy businessmen realized the profit to be made in selling Sisi-related trinkets, her reputation grew to mythic proportions. Ironically, the gift shop at the end of the tour is filled with just those sorts of trinkets that feed into the blind reverence that the museum was made to illuminate.

The end of the Sisi exhibit leads right on into the rooms where Franz Josef worked, slept, and saw visitors--furnished just as they were in his time.

We learned how Franz Josef was an extraordinarily dedicated ruler--working every day from before dawn until after dark. He made it a point that any citizen of the empire, no matter how lowly, could request an audience with him. On average, he would have a hundred such meetings every morning.

When he wasn’t meeting with his nobles and citizenry, Franz Josef was doing paperwork. He was interested in every facet of his empire, and he read every document he signed. While many leaders throughout history suffered for their disinterest in the minutiae of ruling, Franz Josef fell too far in the other direction.

His bedroom, though palatial in build, was austerely furnished. He slept in a small iron bed and used a small, plain washbasin. The only real ornamentation was a kneeler that Franz Josef used for prayer. Like all good Habsburgs, Franz Josef was a devout Catholic.

Franz Josef was also a devoted husband and father. Pictures of Sisi and their children were some of the few embellishments that occupied his otherwise austere desk.

Next to Franz Josef’s rooms were Sisi’s rooms, which even the emperor himself could only enter after ringing a bell for permission. Unlike Franz Josef’s rooms, Sisi’s were large and lavishly furnished.

Next to her bedroom, we saw Sisi's dressing and exercise room--where most of her time at the apartments was spent. Her ankle-length hair required three hours of brushing every day, and she used the time to read classics and study foreign languages. When she wasn’t reading, writing, or riding, Sisi would exercise in this room using a ladder, pull-up bar, and set of parallel rings.

Recreational exercise wasn’t really a thing at this point in history--especially among royalty--so this only added to Sisi’s borderline-scandalous reputation for eccentricity.

Unlike Franz Josef’s study, which was filled with pictures of Sisi and their children, Sisi’s exercise room was filled with pictures of her childhood home and family in Bavaria. It seems clear that the balance of affection between them was painfully uneven.

Another particularly interesting pair of rooms were painted from floor to ceiling to look like a tropical paradise, complete with vines, fruits, and colorful birds. They’re called the Bergl Rooms, after the artist who painted them.

Outside, walked around the epically scaled palace, seeing gardens and monuments, including a particularly impressive one dedicated to Mozart.

We also saw the Sacher Café and Hotel, home of the world-famous Sachertorte (a crumbly chocolate cake with apricot filling and dark chocolate icing) and a rabbit-crested wiener shack where we would enjoy some delicious food in the next few days.

The next day, we visited the Hofburg Treasury and the Imperial Museum of Fine Arts.

Back at the Hofburg complex, we made our way to a side courtyard--which could have been the central square of a major palace in its own right--then through an ornate red portal into a smaller but still sizeable courtyard that lead to the treasury.

The treasury tells a bit more of the history of the Habsburg dynasty, but mainly with regard to the coronations of various Habsburg rulers. Room after room are filled with their crowns, robes, orbs, scepters, and other regalia.

And Treasury isn’t just a fanciful name. When you enter, you can see the original iron door that lead into it in earlier centuries.

We did learn why the Habsburgs were so intent on holding onto Prague and the rest of Bohemia. According to the medieval rules of the Holy Roman Empire, emperors were elected by a council of nine individuals--three arch-bishops and six prince-electors.

Like the Medicis in Florence, the Habsburgs didn’t hold any official authority over the election of rulers, so they had to rely on politics, manipulation, and sheer wealth to exert their will.

But one of the six prince-electors was the king of Bohemia--the Habsburgs’ next-door neighbor. So when the Habsburgs incorporated Bohemia into their territories, they gained an official seat at the table. And from then on, all but one of the elected Holy Roman Emperors were Habsburgs.

The Habsburgs were also deeply religious, and the treasury includes a numbingly large display of altarpieces, reliquaries, and other religious art. Nearly all of it is made of gold, ivory, jade, amber or amber and encrusted with gemstones.

Even the whips they used to scourge themselves for penance were luxurious.

And because the Habsburgs made sure to marry into the royal families of any kingdoms they didn’t directly control, their collection includes artifacts from all across Europe and even from the Americas.

For example, Napoleon’s second wife was a Habsburg, and the treasury includes a number of Napoleonic artifacts, such as a ridiculously fancy crib used by their son Prince Napoleon II.

The treasury also holds a staggering collection of gemstones and jewelry, including gilded flower vases, a giant aquamarine, and a wall full of opal necklaces, earrings, and hairpins.

There's even a lidded cosmetics box carved out of a massive 1.3 pound emerald.

Near the end of the treasury, we saw some of the Habsburgs' most precious relics: the spear that pierced Jesus's side on the cross, a forearm-sized fragment of the cross, and gem-encrusted saber that belonged to Charlemagne--the man who united the lands that would later become the Holy Roman Empire.

None of it's real, of course, but that's beside the point.

After the treasury, we left the Hofburg to get some lunch at the nearby sausage stand. Along the way, though, we ran into a group of horses that were being moved from the Royal Stables. You have to pay extra to visit the stables, but we got to see them for free right on the street.

The sausages were fantastic. It may not look like much, but this pairing of simple bread and meat, anointed with a squirt of curry ketchup, is a true culinary and cultural masterpiece.

Anyway, after that brief diversion, we headed over to the Museum of Art History (officially known as the Kunsthistorisches Museum) just across the street from the Hofburg. If the treasury had upped the ante from the silver collection, this museum changed the game entirely.

Many of the world's great museums started as royal palaces or noble estates, but this museum was purpose-built by Emperor Franz Josef I as a palace for his family’s vast collection of art. And its grandeur could rival the palace of any king or emperor.

The top floor holds the museum’s painting collection while the ground floor houses statues and other artifacts. We started with the ground floor.

As Jessica put it, we’d never felt so pathetically poor in all of our lives. Not even at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome or in Versailles. Not even close.

This is a golden centerpiece for holding salt and pepper.

This is a basin made of solid lapis lazuli--a stone so precious that a few grams ground into pigment might be worth more than all of a Renaissance artist’s other supplies combined.

This is part of a set of gold and mother-of-pearl cups that constituted a measurable percentage of the empire’s wealth when they were made.

See this lovely painted chest? Look closer.

Those aren’t paintings--they’re mosaics crafted from painstakingly selected precious stones.

This is a gilded automaton shaped like a boat. It propels itself on hidden wheels, the drummer drums, the horn-blowers raise and lower their horns, and the cannons actually fire in small puffs of black-powder. It was made in the 1500s.

This is a room filled with similar automata, which were made as entertaining symbols of the empire’s technological dominance.

Again and again, we saw all these artifacts that--if there had been only one or two of each--would have constituted a delightfully enchanting collection. But practically piled up as they were, they somehow became less impressive and more offensive.

Early on in the museum, Jessica and I started to joke about how we hated the Habsburgs. But by the end of this exhibit, the feeling had started to become genuine.

At least as we walked through the extravagances of St. Peter’s Basilica or Versailles, we could tell that they were built for a purpose--to stand as a physical embodiment of an ideal or edifice. Sure, they represent a fabulously unfair distribution of wealth between the commoners and the elite, but at least they stood for something. Walking through them felt like walking through history.

Walking through the Habsburg collection felt like walking through the discarded toys of privileged rich children. All those gilded and bejeweled knickknacks seemed to represent nothing more than obscene wealth mixed with insecurity and boredom. They feel made to amuse and impress an audience once or twice, then put away forever. Until they were put on display in the twilight years of the empire, I doubt many of them had even been enjoyed or appreciated by anyone in ages.

Much more enjoyable was the museum’s collection of Egyptian artifacts, which included sarcophagi, etched tablets, and even surviving pieces of an Egyptian book of the dead.

And the painting collection on the upper floor was also suitably impressive, but we were too tired and overwhelmed at that point to give it the appreciation it no-doubt deserved. We did get to see some extremely famous paintings, however, including Pieter Bruegel's Tower of Babel and a dramatic landscape by Peter Paul Rubens.

The next day, we made our last Hofburg stop at the New Palace Collections, which include the imperial armory and (tragically closed for renovation) musical instrument collection.

But first, we breakfasted at Café Central--a gorgeous 19th-century café where some of the most famous and infamous intellectuals of the time sipped coffee and discussed their theories. Sigmund Freud and Leon Trotsky were regulars, as was a young aspiring artist named Adolf Hitler.

Jessica and I both had kaffee verkehrt--basically Austrian latte macchiatos. They were excellent, and we found the waiters to be perfectly hospitable despite their reputation for grumpiness. Their odd combination of cheerful smiles and shamelessly blunt comments felt charmingly Austrian.

We also had scrambled eggs and ham served in a cast-iron pan, and they may have been the best eggs we'd ever had in our lives. Feeling indulgent, we ended our breakfast with a slice of sachertorte, which was delicious but also a bit dry--as is tradition, apparently.

Even with one of the two exhibits we wanted to see closed--and despite the building being unusually hot inside--our visit to the New Palace Collections was well worth it. The armory takes up nearly the entire top floor of the museum and holds a massive collection of arms and armor--both practical and ceremonial.

And best of all, we could take all the pictures we wanted.

There was hardly any other visitors in the armory besides us. The floors creaked loudly wherever we went, and extremely sensitive motion detectors kept going off whenever I got close to take pictures--summoning each time a docent who had perfected the look of "I'm not mad, just disappointed."

There was a collection of foreign arms and armor that the Habsburgs collected during their reign, and a small case of especially wicked-looking gear.

And Jessica found a collection of early modern emoji helmets

As we wandered on our own, taking pictures and admiring the armor, I was able to catch a glimpse into the closed musical instrument collection, which was closed off in a corner of the floor.

Last but not least, we found a collection of spectacularly decorative firearms tucked away in a corner of the central atrium.

From what we gather, they look better than they ever actually worked.

One level down, we peeked into a collection of artifacts celebrating world cultures--particularly those affected by European colonialism. We were pleasantly surprised by the size and tasteful presentation of the collections, and we ended up walking around the entire thing.

There are pieces from across the world, including the Americas, Africa, Arabia, Australia, the Pacific islands, and even Japan and China.

And our native Bay Area, apparently.

For the most part, the collection seems to do a good job of contextualizing the collection in a non-Eurocentric way. It does tend to gloss over the harsher elements of how Europeans affected these cultures for the worse, but I think that can be excused in the name of focusing on the cultures themselves.

Besides the Warriors cap, the highlight of the collection was a delightfully creep Hawaiian war mask made of feathers, seashells, and dog teeth.

And we got to see some musical instruments, after all.

Overall, the imperial complex in Vienna is suitably impressive--one of very few sites we’ve seen that truly lived up to their reputation in that regard--but I have to say that it mostly rang hollow for us. The more serious museums are impressive, but they feel relegated to the fringe--filling out rooms that only the most curious travelers peek into.

To us, the main exhibits of the Hofburg amounted to little more than a puffed-up ostentation of wealth and a rose-tinted reflection on the twilight years of a dusty empire that had long-since outlived its era.

At this point, you might think that we left with a poor impression of Vienna, but that's absolutely incorrect. We loved Vienna--it’s architecture, it’s wealth of art and culture, it’s refreshingly relaxed pace of life. It’s like being in Paris but without all the traffic.

And the coffee. I may still not have a well-developed taste for the stuff myself, but after making our first honest-to-goodness brewed coffee in months, Jessica was practically enraptured.

Along with Venice, Austria was one of the first cities in Europe to adopt coffee from the Middle East, and they have been refining it ever since. The drinks menus at the cafes we’ve visited here have all had a minimum of two pages dedicated just to different varieties of coffee.

At the Hofburg palace café, Jessica had enjoyed a melange--basically an Austrian cappuccino. I had a hot chocolate, which was easily one of the best I’ve ever had. It was somehow rich and mild at the same time. Nothing like the thick drinking chocolate that we had with churros in Madrid, this chocolate was light and milky in body yet possessing an intense flavor that seemed to fill my mouth with the smallest sip.

We got plenty of chances to admire the impressive Vienna State Opera house, which is right between the Hofburg and the metro stop, but we never actually went inside (except for two misguided minutes trying to browse the wildly overcrowded gift shop).

We also saw the even more impressive St. Stephen’s Cathedral, and that time we did go inside.

The patterned roof reminded us of the Burgundian roof tiles we saw in Beaune and Colmar. Which might make sense given that Burgundy used to be a Habsburg domain.

We also took the opportunity to exchange our Polish and Czech currency for Euros at a miserable rate from a nearby money-changer.

On our last day, we stayed in and planned most of the rest of our trip. It was surreal to think that there was only a month and a day left before we would be flying home.

Not to let a day go by without some form of drama, we forgot that it was Assumption Day, which is an actual holiday here in still-very-Catholic Austria. When we went out in the afternoon to go grocery shopping for dinner, everything in walking distance was closed.

So, naturally, we partook in the time-honored heathen tradition of going out for Chinese food.

Next Post: Salzburg & Berchtesgaden

Last Post: To Vienna

#180abroad #vienna #austria #travel #coffee #history #museums #habsburg #gemstones #jewelry #wealth #opulence #weapons #armor #cathedral

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