#Music industry Job Board

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 1)

A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.

Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar. 

And that person is music producer, Y/N. 

The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved. 

Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again. 

Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.

“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”

Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.

It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.

She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.

“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.

But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief. 

He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.

Return what he was getting. 

Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.

And going against each other became their thing. 

They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.

“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.

Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say. 

She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.

Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him. 

Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery. 

“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.

“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it. 

He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what. 

His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension. 

An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because  he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face. 

Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.

“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”

Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…

Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him. 

“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack. 

When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…

“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.

“You weren’t here when I went out.”

“But you knew I was coming.”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.

It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.

It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.

He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading. 

That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.

Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry. 

Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.

“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.

She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin. 

He has to fight the urge to touch her.

Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.

Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.

Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.

“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him. 

“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence. 

“Hey. Long time no see.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind. 

Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?

“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind. 

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.

“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout. 

He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best. 

Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go. 

The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.

Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had. 

He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people  while enjoying how under the radar he is currently. 

The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her. 

Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him. 

From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.

Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her. 

She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.

As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance. 

“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him. 

They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.

“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.

“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.

“Have you tried to put it down fully?”

“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way. 

“What?”

“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”

“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”

She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.

It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms. 

“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.

“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”

“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”

“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time. 

“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”

She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.

But then it all changes.

If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already. 

Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body. 

He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing. 

Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it. 

It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle. 

The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes. 

They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.

“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.

He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.

“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”

Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”

“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall. 

This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.

A stupid, giant one. 

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Summary: Reassuring Noah that he is a good boyfriend, even if he is not always present because of his job.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Tw: angst, comfort

It had been days—maybe even weeks—since you first noticed the shift in Noah. At first, you didn’t think much of it. You’d always known what came with dating someone like him: the long nights at the studio, the irregular hours, the constant pressure of the music industry, and the heavy responsibility that came with fronting a band like his.

But in recent weeks, things had been different. His absence had become more than just physical. You’d noticed the way he seemed to zone out when you spoke, how he’d sit with you but his mind would be elsewhere. There were moments when you’d catch him staring into the distance, his jaw tight, shoulders tense as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them.

You’d try to ask him how he was doing, but he’d always deflect, giving you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and muttering something about being fine.

But you knew better. You knew him better than anyone.

Tonight, though, was different.

The band had come over for dinner—Jolly, Nicholas, and Folio were their usual selves, loud and boisterous, filling the room with laughter and stories. You always enjoyed nights like this. It gave you a chance to see the boys unwind, to laugh alongside them, to be part of what made the band more like a family than just a group of musicians.

Normally, Noah would be right in the thick of it, teasing or joining in with wild anecdotes, but tonight, he was quiet. Too quiet.

You glanced over at him as you sat at the dinner table, catching him staring down at his plate, absentmindedly pushing food around with his fork. He’d barely eaten anything, and his usual sarcastic remarks or witty comebacks were noticeably absent. As the night dragged on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you, his brows furrowed as if he was lost in thought. And every time you’d look back, he’d quickly glance away, pretending to focus on something else.

After dinner, as the guys moved to the living room, sprawling across the couches and settling in for what would inevitably turn into a late-night hangout, you felt Noah’s hand brush yours under the table. It was a subtle gesture, one you almost missed, but it caught your attention. You looked up at him, and for the first time that night, he met your gaze directly.

“Can we talk in private?” he asked quietly, his voice soft but laced with something that sounded like hesitation—or maybe fear. Your heart skipped a beat.

There was something in his tone, something that made the air between you feel heavier, like this conversation was about to unravel something big. You nodded, giving him a small smile in an attempt to reassure him, but he didn’t return it.

Instead, he stood up, leading you outside, away from the laughter and chatter of the band.

The night air was cool as it kissed your skin, the sky above clear and scattered with stars. The porch was dimly lit, the soft glow from the house casting long shadows across the wooden boards. It was quiet out here, just the faint hum of the city in the distance, a stark contrast to the noise inside.

You could feel the tension radiating off Noah as he stood with his back to you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his posture stiff.

For a moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched between you, and your heart began to race as you waited, unsure of what was coming. You wanted to reach out, to say something, but something in his demeanor stopped you. He looked like he was struggling—like whatever was on his mind was tearing him apart from the inside.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned to face you. His eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were dim, filled with a sadness that made your chest tighten. He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his dark hair before dropping his gaze to the ground, unable to look at you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a rough edge to his tone, like he was trying to hold himself together. “About us.”

Those two words sent a jolt of anxiety through you, your mind immediately spiraling. Was he breaking up with you? Was this the moment everything you’d built together crumbled? You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out, your throat tightening with fear.

Noah seemed to sense your panic because he shook his head quickly, stepping closer. “No, no—it’s not what you think,” he said hastily, finally meeting your eyes. His brow was furrowed, his expression pained.

“I’m not… I’m not ending things, but…” He trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words.You waited, your heart still pounding in your chest. He looked so vulnerable standing there, so unlike the confident, composed frontman you were used to seeing on stage.

“I just… Fuck, I don’t know how to say this,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I feel like I’ve been a terrible boyfriend lately. Like, I haven’t been here for you. Not really.” He glanced up at you, his eyes filled with guilt.

“And it’s been eating at me.” Your heart broke at the sight of him so torn up. You took a step closer, reaching out to gently take his hand in yours.

“Noah, what are you talking about?” you asked softly, squeezing his hand. “You’re not a terrible boyfriend.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yes, I am,” he insisted, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been so wrapped up in the band, in the new album, in fucking everything, that I’ve barely been around. I feel like I’m constantly distracted, like my mind is always somewhere else, and I know that’s not fair to you.”

He paused, swallowing hard, and you saw his jaw clench as he tried to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to break through. “You deserve someone who’s actually there for you. Someone who can give you the attention and time you need. And right now, I’m just… I’m not that guy.”

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, and your heart shattered at the sight of it. Noah had always been the strong one, the one who held everything together, and seeing him so vulnerable, so broken, was almost too much to bear. Without thinking, you reached up, gently brushing the tear away with your thumb.

“Noah,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “You are enough. You’re more than enough.”

He shook his head, looking away again as if he couldn’t believe you. “I’ve barely been at home in the past few weeks. I missed so many things that were important to you and I’ve let you down over and over again, and—”

“You haven’t let me down,” you interrupted, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. “I know how hard you’re working. I see everything you’re doing, and I understand. I get it, Noah. I know how much pressure you’re under with the band, with the new album, and I’m not expecting you to be perfect. I don’t need you to be here 24/7. I just need you, Noah. However you come.”

He stared at you, his eyes searching your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe hope. “I feel like I’ve been so absent. Like I’ve been letting you down over and over again.”

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face in your hands.

“You haven’t failed me. You’ve never failed me,” you said softly. “I know things have been tough lately, and I know you’ve been busy. But I’m not going anywhere, Noah. I'll wait. I'll always wait for you, beacuse you are worth waiting for.”

Tears welled up in his beautiful brown eyes again, and this time, he didn’t try to hold them back. A couple of them fell freely, and you gently wiped each one away as they slipped down his cheeks.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with love for the man standing in front of you. “You’re not going to lose me, Noah,” you promised, your voice steady and sure. “I love you too. More than anything.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned into your touch. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, and he held you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder as he let out a deep, shaky sigh.

For a long moment, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of his confession hanging in the air between you. But slowly, you felt the tension in his body begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of relief and comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a while, his voice muffled against your skin. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

“We’ll figure it out. Together.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you saw the light return to his eyes. It was faint, but it was there—a glimmer of hope, of love, of the man you knew so well.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice full of gratitude. “For being so patient with me.” You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Always,” you whispered against his mouth.

Noah’s fingers tightened around yours, his gaze steady now, no longer filled with doubt.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he whispered, his voice raw but full of sincerity.

“You didn’t get lucky,” you replied with a soft smile. “We chose each other. And I’m still choosing you.”

Noah gently smiled too. He did choose you. And he was so damn glad he did.

[thepettymachine]

Wandering Souls Challenge for TS3

Heeey so I made another challenge. Might be the last one I ever make who knows. But I got inspired by the Postcard Legacy for TS4 and made something similar but not similar to it. It took a minute to make but I hope you enjoy

Wandering Souls Challenge is a 10 generation legacy challenge where you go through multiple jobs and careers with story elements involved. This is a challenge if you don't wanna do just one career all of your sims life and don't mind moving around + mild drama but not soul shattering.

Tag: "wandering souls challenge" or "@" me

Rules:

I didn't really make any but don't feel obligated to do everything as an objective. Somethings you probably aren't going to get to everything and that's okay. If you do everything congratulations, if you don't move on.

I have no designated way to play this (ex: what town do you recommend in playing with this), I'm giving the player what they want to do within the confines of this challenge. It's your sandbox not mine.

You do have some optional goals for extra fun if you choose to do so.

Have fun

Carry On Wayward Son

When you were young, you didn’t take anything as serious as your music. Your obsession with the chords became as necessary as breathing and you’ll do anything but sell your soul to the industry. But as you grew older and had a family, you wish for more structure with your music in hopes for it to reach the people that desperately need to hear it. So you find an indie record company and work with them because your artistic freedom is still the forefront of why you’re doing all of this. Plus feeding your family and paying the bills. 

Objectives:

Start by making money through collecting tips while working part time jobs

Half way through your YA years, you try a Singing career or being part of a band but it doesn’t work out

As an adult, you enter into the Music career for more structure and to reach a larger fanbase

Pick a branch between classical or rock

Your lover/(s) must be all creative types like you (artist, sculptor, architect, musician, street artist, etc)

You encourage your children to also pursue the arts

Master all 4 instruments (guitar, bass, piano, and drums)

Get at least 3 tattoos somewhere on your body

2. Jeffrey Jeffrey Simzos

If the Grinch and Scrooge had a love child, it would be you. You couldn’t really get behind your parent’s idealistic dreams about music and art, it felt unstable and unrealistic to you. You want wealth and power at your fingertips and anyone at your beck and call. Whether its through a wealthy spouse, your boss, the corporate ladder, or getting into politics, you will reach the top. For there is no redemption arc and no grace to be given for Greed has already devoured the remnants of your dead beating heart.

Objectives:

Have bake sales as a child and dislike any attempts at the arts

Join the Business career

Be enemies with all of your coworkers

Go from a small house/apartment to a big mansion/house

Be the owner of multiple businesses around town + an additional home

Marry a rich sim you definitely married for money

Have at least one child with the butler or maid you hired

You become more power hungry so you join Politics after reaching level 8 of Business career

Steal campaign funds 

Your kids must be the top of their class, no exceptions (straight A’s, no skipping school, be apart of a club) or they are sent to boarding school

You are not close with any of your children

Optional: woohoo your boss

3. Yes Chef

Because excellence was required of you as a child, you tend to have a strong work ethic and unrealistic expectations for yourself and others while despising what you had to endure in your upbringing. The one good thing out of it was discovering your love of cooking. Cooking was a way for you to escape your worries and as an adult you desire to be a chef, going against everything your parents raised you with. You started from the bottom and found your way all the way at the top as head chef. But something is missing and so you explore other cultures and find new excitement in  nectar making. You figure when you retire, you wanna spend the rest of your days being a nectar maker on a giant farm in the countryside.

Objectives:

Start at the diner for the first half of your career, then move over to the bistro for the second half

Bartend for bars at night for extra income

Read every recipe and learn all the fancy drinks

Master Cooking & Mixology

Marry your childhood friend or high school friend you haven’t seen in years

Cook your spouse and children their favorites meals at least once

At the top of your career, you get bored and visit travel other cultures for their cuisine (go to France, Egypt, and China to learn their food recipes)

Get inspired by nectar making 

When becoming an Elder, move to the countryside, retire as a chef, and become a self employed nectar farmer. 

4. Country Roads, Take Me Home

You’ve always found interest in nature as a kid and instead of wanting to be in the comfy suburbs or stargazing the city’s skylines.You even had a knack for bringing stray animals into your home but they always seemed to run away when you left for school (according to your parents). That’s why instead of working a typical 9-5, you fulfill your childhood dream of being on a farm and working with your bare hands. Building a life you always dreamed of yet will work hard to maintain. There’s no sleeping in for this dreamer.

Objectives:

As a child you were part of the scouts

Live on a farm or ranch

Work as a self employed gardener

Master the Fishing, Gardening, and/or Riding skill

Adopt 2 strays (horse, dog or cat)

Marry your helper on the farm or Marry a townie that loves the outdoors/animal lover trait

Wake up in the early hours of the day

Have a big family cause free child labor

Raise a horse from baby to elder 

Optional: Own a cow plant 

Optional: Win the highest horse competition (racing or jumping)

5. He was #1

You’ve always had an interest in the outdoors but sports was your passion and you’re very good at it. So good, you were being scouted by agents who hoped to take you to the pros and have your name chanted by the thousands. Your dream did come true but another did not. You’re a closeted hopeless romantic who always wished to find their soulmate and have a family, but being a professional athlete with a recognizable face has made it difficult for you to find true authentic love. What will it take for you to find love and will you have to choose between your two greatest loves or can they both coexist together for your sake.

Objectives:

Enjoy your outdoor activities (playing ball, going to the pool, camping, etc) once a week

Find love through online dating 

Go on 3 dates with a person before committing 

Host a big wedding party and bachelor/bachelorette party and if possible, ask your partners parents for their blessing

Master the Athletic skill

Become a stay at home parent when you reach level 6  of the sports career

After a sports injury that takes you out of the field. You find yourself recovering and unemployed and decide to take care of your children while deciding your next move. 

You realize you want to be a sports agent so you go back to college as an adult and get your physical education degree 

Reach level 10 of Jock social group. 

Join the Sports Agent career

Gain the Eternally Faithful Moodlet

6. You Blinded Me with Science:

Curiosity killed the cat or in your case it just made you curiouser. You couldn’t keep your hands still and always have to be tinkering with something. So much so that you lost your beloved job at the science lab because you kept goofing around with some scrap from the town’s junkyard during company hours. No worries, you just decided to go all in with being a self made inventor and creating gizmos and gadgets the world has never seen before. Except one day, you find a mysterious device you’ve never seen before and upon activating it, you end up in the future. There are alot more prettier machines than the ones you’ve been messing around with and you sorta take one home with you. Oh well what’s the worst that can happen. 

Objectives:

Start out in the Science career but get fired after reaching lvl 3 in inventing and join the Inventor self employed career 

You spend your weekends messing around in the town's junkyard and blowing stuff up for your experiments. The neighbors even catch you dumpster diving around town 

Marry someone just as eccentric and quirky as you (ex: eccentric, neurotic, insane, socially awkward, slob, etc)

Master the handiness and inventing skills

Create all inventions, including a simbot

Make some of your children through the Time Machine (past: child - YA/ future: elder, you can age down if you wish) 

All your children’s traits have to be randomized

Optional: Go into the future and obtain all the gadgets to bring them back home to the present 

Optional: You even bring back home a plumbot and learn how to take care of one

Optional: Leave the Inventor career and present and work in the Astronomy career in the future.

7. Who You Gonna Call?

This generation can be played in two different ways. The choice is up to you. (Also double heirs can be accepted for this gen)

Super Skeptic Route:

The question you’ve always asked yourself was “Are Ghosts Real?” You believed in the supernatural, the horror stories, and the abduction of Bella Goth and was hoping to find evidence in the graveyards. But alas you could never find your ghosts and your dreams were crushed. Now as an adult, you’ve become a skeptic and believe it all to be a charade and try to speak sense into the “sheep” around you to see the light. Until one day you do encounter a ghost and for the last time, you investigate into the question, “Are Ghosts Real?”.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Skeptic trait. 

You dabble in Alchemy but it never takes effect on you. 

Join the Con Artist branch of the Fortune Teller career

Encounter 3 ghosts to convince you that ghosts are real

Leave the Fortune Teller career to become a Ghost Hunter

You convince Ghosts to move on/ Set them free rather than have them experiment on by the science lab (avoid opportunities that say otherwise) 

Do all investigations (spirit invasion, paranormal investigation, poltergeist haunting, ghostly presence, angry ghost invasion)

Ultra Fan Route:

As a child, you always found yourself interested in what couldn’t be reasoned or argued against, the supernatural. You obsessed over horror stories, wandered into graveyards, deep subreddits of conspiracies behind Bella Goth’s abduction and studied too many ways to become one. You started to give up hope of ever becoming one. Until one day you befriend a fellow occult member of society and it changed your life forever.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Fan trait

Master the Alchemy skill

Start a side hustle of being an author writing primarily in the horror genre

Publish 15 horror books

Join the Mystic branch of the Fortune Teller career

Befriend a supernatural of your choice to be turned into

Get 1st place at Trivia night at the Vault of Antiquity

8. Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Being a doctor was something you always thought you wanted to be. It came with status, notoriety, respect, money, student loans, and it was something more stable than what your parents were able to give you. You worked hard and got into the Medical career where you met your spouse and lived in a beautiful home with your two kids and pet. It’s like everything worked out in the end. But your desire to see the world burn just keeps rearing its ugly head and you can no longer contain the person you thought you repressed for so long. It desires the status and respect you’ve obtained but also infamy, underlings, and power.

Objectives:

Have the Evil trait

As a teen, be a straight A student, work a part time job, and be best friends with your parents, enemies with your siblings (if applicable)

Choose to go to college on full scholarship or enter the Medical career immediately. 

Marry a fellow coworker whose as ambitious or hardworking as you

Live in a nice home with a white picket fence, 2 kids and a pet of your choice

Befriend some townies who work in the Criminal career

Donate to criminal organizations at least once a week

Leave your job in the Medical career in your adult years

Join the Criminal career

Choose the Evil branch of the Criminal career and reach the top

Optional: Divorce your spouse, find a new home, bring the kids (or don’t) and marry your criminal coworker.

9. Baywatch

You used to work in law enforcement until the red tape got to you and so you went to become a private investigator. Solving crimes and digging through trash got exhausting and difficult as you try to serve others yet the system kept letting you down. After having a midlife crisis, You’ve come to realize that helping people can be simple, enjoyable, and have a great ocean view. Being a lifeguard wasn’t in the career plan but saving lives from the depths of the oceans and looking good in red too. Not a bad career change.  

Objectives:

Join the law enforcement career

Become friends with/date your cop partner 

When reaching level 5 of the career, you leave your job to go into the Investigative career to get away from the red tape 

Continue being an investigator until your Adult years

Have a midlife crisis and complete all the wishes or go get therapy at the hospital

At the end of your crisis, you join the Lifeguard career

Find an island or befriend a mermaid  

Master the scuba diving skill and logic skills

10. Master of None

Oh the journey you have been on. From caring about the music to fighting robbers in people’s homes, you’ve been through it all. As you worked hard for what you wanted, You have reached this crossroad and wonder what it all means and what it meant before. Maybe discovering yourself is what the journey is all about or maybe it's the experiences that shape you that gives you your form. Regardless, you’ve been feeling torn about what to do now and with no destination, maybe you start to express who you truly are. Who knows. There is no rush in the process or a destination in sight, only the curiosity that keeps your soul wandering on the journey.  

Objectives:

Join at least 5 different careers you haven’t played in this challenge (Education, Magician, Firefighter, Stylist, etc)

Have 3 best friends you maintain until Elder

Start dabbling in painting or sculpting in your free time outside of work. 

Meet the love of your life 

Be apart of your community - take opportunities that involve helping your neighbors/fellow townies

Pamper yourself -  go to a place in town for some you time once a week

Learn a new skill once a week (you don’t have to master it) 

If applicable, befriend your grandchildren 

Optional: turn your hobby into your job 

Thank you for playing. Feedback is welcomed

[daisyvisions]

I Wanna Be Your Dog - (k.yh)

➺ Pairing: Rockstar!Younghoon x Assistant!Reader

➺ Summary: Your job as an assistant to the band is simple: handle their schedule, and do what they ask you to do. But how far are you willing to help one member out with a certain ask if it means keeping your job?

➺ Word Count: 3.8k

➺ Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampies, edging, male masturbation, guided masturbation, handjobs, slight fingering, riding, lots of making out, groping, sexual fantasies, mutual pining (?), younghoon is down bad for reader (sub!younghoon if you squint), marking, mentions of hookups, pet name used (baby)

➺ A/N: Finally, my birthday fic for Younghoon is up! I had planned to write for rockstar younghoon ever since this tiktok edit came out last year. This was not the original story I had in mind but I hated how the outline was going and decided to save it for another member and use this plot instead. Title is inspired from the song of the same name by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts because the lyrics fit so well with one particular scene of the fic (iykyk). Proofread once, enjoy 😉

➺ Network & Tag: @deoboyznet @snowflakewhispers @winterchimez @aimeecarreros (thank you for introducing me to the song 😈)

For as long as you could remember, you've always wanted to work in the music industry. There was something about that chaotic world that you thought was magical. You were so determined to become a part of that universe you didn't care where you would end up.

And that is how you became the assistant to one of the hottest acts to ever grace the stage.

At first, you were way too excited to be involved in the day-to-day of the band's schedule; you didn't even care if you had to run many blocks just to get the specific brand of coffee they wanted.

But soon enough, the rose-colored lenses you had on would crack. Not only did you have to take care of the band's schedule and be at their beck and call, but you were also in charge of cleaning up their mess.

Which is the reason you ended up sitting through a one-hour phone call with the band's manager as he practically yaps your ear off about the band's lead guitarist.

"Do you know how many NDAs I had to sign just so these groupies would keep their mouths shut about Younghoon?" Jacob exclaims.

"I know, I'm the one who prints and mails those documents for you." You sigh heavily.

"The board is getting pissed off. It's getting too much! He has a sex addiction at this point!"

"Well, it's not like we can make him wear a chastity belt or a purity ring to stop him! You know how he gets." You reply, trying to hold in your frustration from how long this call has been going.

"They are in the process of promoting their next album and going on tour. If Younghoon keeps this up and the press finally catches on, it will not be a good look for us all." Jacob takes a deep breath and pauses for a moment.

"I need you to keep him in line," Jacob says to you with a stern voice.

"What?! How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, you're the assistant. It's your job to take care of those guys. Do something about it or you can say goodbye to your job."

Jacob puts the phone down immediately without even waiting for your reply. You throw your phone to the side, your heart racing as you feel the frustration consuming you, and it's not even eight in the morning.

You can't afford to lose your job. Not after you've worked so hard to get where you are already. And you will definitely not lose your job just because Younghoon can't keep it in his goddamn pants.

No, you're going to do something about this no matter what it takes.

As you insert the spare key in the lock of Younghoon's apartment, you're instantly startled as a figure appears before you. Her disheveled appearance already tells you who or rather, why she's in his apartment. Great, another day of running into a groupie.

"Oh, Lin, isn't it?" You try to give her a smile. You introduce yourself as the band's assistant.

"Oh—hi," she responds, but her eyes were looking elsewhere. "Excuse me, I gotta go, late for… an appointment," she mumbles.

"Of course, it was nice meeting you!" You put on that people-pleasing voice. Lin nods in return before stumbling out the door. You make a mental note to track her address and send her an NDA later in the day.

You walk further into Younghoon's apartment, already listing out in your head the mess you have to clean up later as you quickly scan different areas of the living room. You find him still dead asleep in his bed, probably unaware that his latest conquest has left the building as you walk closer to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Younghoon? You awake?" You gently shake his shoulder. As you continue to wake him up, you're caught by surprise as he grabs your arm and pulls you into his embrace.

"Hey baby, up so early?" His deep morning voice rings in your ear as his face buries into your neck.

You try to keep yourself composed as you wriggle yourself free, but your eyes widen at the sudden realization that doing so was a mistake as you feel something hard digging between your ass.

"Younghoon, I—"

"So eager for round two, huh? Don't worry, baby, I'll let you take the lead this time." He kisses a sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder as his hands start drifting near your hips. Before anything escalates, you pull his hands away and reach behind to flick him in the forehead.

"Younghoon, it's me!" You shout, sitting upright once more and shaking off that fluttering feeling growing inside your stomach.

"Ow. What the— oh. Oh hey!" He smiles at you. "Where's—"

"Already left. Witnessed her walk of shame just as I was going in," you smirk. "I brought you breakfast; better see you outside in ten minutes, alright?" You slap his shoulder to wake him up.

"Alright, alright, I'll get up," he groans as he turns to his side.

"Aw, all this for me? You shouldn't have." Younghoon slings his arm over your shoulder as he watches you set all the food on the counter.

"Just sit down and eat. We need to talk about something." You shrug his arm off.

"To talk… What did I do this time?" He sarcastically replies as he sits across from you.

"It's not what you did this time; it's what you keep on doing, Younghoon." You grab his plate and fill it up with the food on the table.

"Look, Jacob called me this morning, and he's not happy with your—" You pause, trying to come up with a proper way to address the problem.

"With my… what?" Younghoon takes a big bite from his plate, his eyes trained on yours as he waits for you to finish.

"Your sex addiction." You decide to get straight to the point. "You fuck nearly every girl that bats her pretty eyelashes at you or even gives you a decent amount of attention."

"Hey, I can't help myself, you know? This is the rockstar's life, after all." He shrugs as he takes a sip from his glass.

"Yeah, well, if you don't get that controlled and continue thinking with your dick, it's not gonna look good for the press," you reply.

"Since when have we cared about what the press thought?" Younghoon asks with slight irritation in his voice.

"Please, Younghoon, I need you to keep it together just until promotions and the tour are over. My job is on the line here." Your voice starts quivering. Younghoon sees your eyebrows scrunching and the tiny tear forming at the corner of your eye.

Oh, how he wishes he could kiss those worries away right now and keep you close to him. Seeing you like this whenever you're frustrated or upset makes his heart ache with a feeling he can't explain. It's probably because he has a soft spot for you, ever since you started working for them. And if he's the reason that you end up losing your job, he doesn't know how he'll be able to sleep at night.

"Please?" Your tiny voice calls him back to reality as your soft hands hold one of his. And how could he ever say no to you?

"Alright," Younghoon sighs out. "I'll do it. But it's not gonna look pretty." You chuckle at his response.

"I promise you can go back to doing whatever after the promotions. Deal?" You gently squeeze his hand for reassurance. Younghoon places his other hand on top of yours and squeezes in return.

"You got it, boss."

Much to your surprise, Younghoon does a fairly good job at keeping his word. At first, it was a bit difficult, but he somehow managed to pull through.

He couldn't forget that one time he was almost about to fuck the girl lying on his bed until he suddenly remembered your face and how upset you would've been if you found out what he was doing. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing you, so he just came up with a lousy excuse for the groupie to leave and fisted himself later in the night until he was satisfied enough.

And since then, that's what he had been doing to get by. He was either fucking his hand or fleshlight while imagining all the different one-night stands he had in the past. But as the days went by, it was getting harder for him to reach that sweet release. Not even watching porn would get him off the way it did before.

He needed to touch and be touched, a pair of lips kissing him everywhere, and moans of pleasure ringing in his ear… he couldn't wait till the tour was over until he could finally ravish someone and forget their name the next day. Sounds like a shitty way to live but hey, this is the kind of life he chose for himself.

Just two more months, Younghoon, what's the worst that can happen?

Sweat starts to form on Younghoon's forehead as he vigorously pumps his throbbing length. He had been trying to get off for a while now, but it seems nothing has been working. This was the worst case of blue balls he has ever had, and if he doesn't cum any second now, he might go insane.

Younghoon starts to dig deep into his memories of past hookups to see if there was one moment he can use to get himself off. There was one memory that seemed to pop into his mind, but not any of the hookups he had remembered. No, it was a memory of you. The day you came into the apartment to talk to him about his problem.

He recalls the smell of your perfume when he buried his face into your neck, the way your ass rubbed against his morning wood accidentally, and how soft your hands were when you held his hand during breakfast.

His cock throbbed in his hand remembering those small moments, playing an imaginary scenario in his mind wherein you didn't stop his hands from traveling to your hips. How he would've pressed himself into you further and continued kissing your neck. How his hands would’ve groped your breasts tenderly as he whispered filth into your ear and you would’ve moan his name in response.

"So pretty…" he murmurs to himself as he bucks his hips up, thinking how beautiful and kind you've always been to him even if he tends to be an asshole at times.

He moans at the thought of how soft your lips would feel against his own, remembering the time you drunkenly kissed him on the cheek during that one after-party a few days ago. He had to quickly turn away from you to hide his cheeks turning pink.

God, he knows his abstinence from sex has gotten so bad to the point that even the smallest gestures from you are enough to send the blood in his veins right down to his cock. He's never been this hard in his life, and he can't tell anymore if it's because he's blue-balled or because he's thinking about you.

Either way, Younghoon was all up in his head that he didn't even hear his front door being unlocked as you let yourself in.

Your visit to Younghoon's tonight was unplanned. He had forgotten his lucky leather jacket in the studio a week ago, and you took it upon yourself to get it dry-cleaned for him.

As soon as you got the call from the dry cleaners, you thought it would be nice to drop by his place and surprise him with his newly cleaned jacket and bring his favorite food for a late night snack. After all, you wanted to show him how grateful you were for keeping his word.

"Younghoon?" You call out his name. You knew he was home after spotting his keys and wallet on the console table. You try to call his name again but still no response. He must be asleep. I should go check on him, you think to yourself.

Younghoon? He hears your sweet voice ringing in his ear. God, he must be down so bad if he can start hearing you call out his name, as if you're right close by. He can already feel himself closer to the edge as he hears his name once again, pumping himself to the point of no return until his door suddenly swings open.

"Younghoon, I— Oh my god!"

"Shit!"

You both catch each other by surprise.

You tried to look elsewhere, but the image of Younghoon jerking himself off is now burned into your memory, and you don't know what to do. Younghoon, on the other hand, whimpers from the loss of his orgasm.

Had you been delayed by a second or two, he would've released his load onto his stomach, relieving himself of stress. But now, he's on the verge of crying as he feels himself getting incredibly pent up.

"I'm so sorry, I'll just go—" You turn around quickly.

"No, wait!" Younghoon's voice stops you from closing the door. You couldn't help but turn around and face him once more. He looked like he was in pain, his eyes becoming watery as he deeply breathes in and out.

"Help me…" He cries out to you.

"W-what?" Your eyes widen. He can't be serious, right?

"Please! I can't— been trying. I can't do it." A tear falls down his pale cheek.

"Please, it hurts so bad…" He whimpers once again.

"Younghoon, I can't—"

"Please! Just this once. We'll never speak of it again—" He pleads like his life depends on it. And with the way he's looking at you like you're the only one that can help him get out of this sticky situation, how could you say no to him?

"A-alright." Your feet move towards him even before you replied, your body already deciding for you on what you need to do next.

You sit beside him, placing your hand on his thigh as you glance over his hand gripping his cock. You feel your core pulsate at his pink tip peeking out from his fist. But you try your best to completely ignore whatever intrusive thought you have and place your hand on top of his, gently holding it as you look into his eyes.

"Just this once, okay?" You hover above his cock enough for your spit to fall onto the tip and move his hand slowly up and down as you guide him through his orgasm.

This wouldn't be the first time you've seen his cock. The first two times were by pure accident and from afar too. But nothing could've prepared you from seeing his member up close.

The way the veins are protruding from how rock hard he is at the moment, wondering what it must feel like to fill you up to the hilt. You try to think of anything deemed unsexy as you stare at his manhood, but that ends up failing as you start to feel your underwear slowly getting wet by the second.

While you're too caught up in your own thoughts, Younghoon couldn't help but stare at the way you looked at his cock, all slack-jawed and dreamy-eyed. It was like you wanted to do more than guide him, like you were ready to devour him any moment from now. As if a dark cloud of lust is slowly taking over you right before his very own eyes. And that was turning him on a lot.

He subconsciously reaches out for you with his free hand, his fingers holding onto the back of your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips are even sweeter than he had imagined, making his heart beat so fast from how soft they feel on his own. Younghoon knows this moment won't last forever, so he decides to just enjoy it while it lasts.

You instantly moan from the feeling of his lips on yours, holding his wrist as you lean forward to press yourself against him. You pull his hand away from his cock and replace it with yours instead, the softness of your palm wrapped around his length making him hiss in pleasure. You start to grip him harder, controlling the pace of your hand jerking him off.

Younghoon groans into your mouth as he slips his tongue inside. His hands grabbing onto your hips before pulling you closer to him to straddle his lap. You continue to jerk him off as his hands start caressing the sides of your body.

"Please…" he whines into your mouth.

"Tell me what you need, Younghoon—" You kiss his cheek before moving down to his neck.

"Wanna touch you— fuck— Can I touch you? Please let me touch you." His eyebrows knit in pleasure as your lips suck a particularly sensitive part of his throat.

Too busy with lightly sucking on his skin, you grab one of his hands and guide him to the front button of your pants, signaling him to remove the article of clothing from you for better access. He wastes no time helping you out of your jeans and having you back on his lap.

His fingers slowly sliding beneath your underwear, groaning at the sensation of how wet your folds are. He's honestly amazed at how you're able to get this wet without being touched; it motivates him to slide his fingers between before finally circling around your sensitive bud.

You let out a soft whine as you feel your knees turn into jelly. All you could think about right now is to sink yourself down onto his member and ride him into the sunset. Somehow it was like he could read your mind as you feel his hand pull your underwear to the side and the other pull you by the hip to align your entrance right above his tip.

"This okay?" You look down at him.

"Y-yeah, more than okay." He stutters.

"C'mere." You lean down to kiss him, slowly letting yourself sink down to the base of his cock.

Both of you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding until you finally sat on his lap. The feeling of Younghoon being fully sheathed inside you already has you seeing stars, and you haven't even moved yet. He swallows your moans as he starts bucking his hips up, holding you in a tight embrace as he fucks himself into your tight hole.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He mumbles as he pulls his lips away from yours to get a good look at your face.

The way he looked at you as if you had a halo around you was making the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You knew the effect he had on you, especially when he would randomly flirt with you. But for some reason, the effect of his words felt different.

It was like he was confessing something he had locked up inside of him for a long time, making you blush like an idiot. Your eyebrows knit in pleasure as his thrusts start to become faster. Your walls are gripping him like a vice; he knows he's bound to reach his peak anytime soon.

"Let go for me, Younghoon, you can do it." You whisper in his ear.

As soon as you say these words, a sudden burst of warmth blooms inside you. His hips relax onto the mattress as he comes down from his high, but his hands guide your hips up and down his cock, helping you reach your own release.

He must've been so pent up, you think to yourself as you feel him still incredibly hard inside you. The tip of his manhood nudges that sweet spot deep inside you so good you feel yourself nearly falling over the edge.

"K-keep going, baby—" He breathes out. "Use me."

You take control of your own movement and bounce on him like there's no tomorrow. Your fingernails raking the sensitive skin on his chest as you chase your own high. Younghoon can feel himself reaching his own high too the more you keep this pace up.

Everything about this moment was making him absolutely dizzy. Your walls practically choke holding his dick, his first load already dripping out of you and coating his balls, and the way the squelching sounds echo in the room as you use him for your own pleasure?

He will never look at you the same way ever again. You've officially ruined him for anyone else after this.

"Younghoon, I'm gonna—"

"C'mon baby, cum on me. Fuck— make me yours." He mumbles as he feels close to the edge with you.

After a few more bounces, the rope inside you finally snaps, making you cum so hard you feel like you're going to faint. Younghoon's second release follows right after yours, but this time his load is more than the first. You both know for sure that as soon as he pulls out, a waterfall of your mixed juices is bound to rush out of your hole. So you just decide to keep him close longer as you both try to catch your breath.

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his breathing pattern slowly regulating as he rubs his hand up and down your back. You both bask in the silence a little longer, secretly savoring the moment before you have to part ways.

"Younghoon?" You lift your head to look up at him. He hums in response.

"If— if ever you need help with this at a different time…" You pause for a moment. "I'd be happy to volunteer." You feel your cheeks burn up at the thought of doing this with Younghoon again.

"Yeah? You wanna help me out?" His eyes widen, his heart beating faster again knowing this wouldn't be the last intimate moment with you.

"Yeah, just as long as you sign an NDA about it." You jokingly reply. He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

"Well, get ready to print a lot of those—" He grabs your ass and gives it a good slap, making you yelp in surprise.

"—because you have a lot of catching up to do."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

It isn't your proudest moment. You don't have many of those. There is little remarkable about, nothing of note, nothing admirable. You might stand a bit taller than most but it's rarely given as a good thing. 

You never expected much of life. You resigned yourself to living in the shadows. In particular, you knew you would always bet outshone by your sister's light. You can't hate her for it; it's your own shortcoming. Besides, no one can hate Riannon, she's just that nice. 

You are dark smear on the family name. It's why you didn't even think to ask your parents for help. You didn't even ask your sister, she offered, insisted really. You could never deny her and in this instant, you couldn't afford any other option. 

It’s just for a while, you keep telling yourself. You’ll find a new job and a place soon. For now, you’ll just stay out of the way. It isn’t very hard; you take up much more room than your few possessions. 

You keep yourself holed in the guestroom as you settle into your second day. You have your laptop on your thighs as you scroll the job boards. You have the experience but you expect your reference would be any good. You didn’t exactly end on cordial terms. Starting from square one, though the industry isn’t exactly even ground for men and women alike. 

You hunker down to search through the various postings within your purview. Every classification is ticked off, even the years, it’s just that little note about contacting your previous employers that makes you nervous. Well, you at least have to try. 

A knock comes at the door as you edit your cover letter once again. You sit up and close the computer. You slide it aside and get up. You cross the room and crack the door open. You sister smiles from the other side. 

“Am I making too much noise?” You ask as your music plays music from its tiny speaker. 

“No, no, not at all. Um, so you know Andy is out of town for the day so it’s just us,” she rocks, “and there’s a barbecue down the street so... I thought you could get to know the neighbourhood.” 

You look down at her, the offer catching you off guard. You were prepared to spend the whole day hidden away and poring over job listings. Even when you had your own place, you tended to spend most of your own time inside. 

Still, she is doing you a huge favour and it would be rude to say no. You shrug, “okay.” 

“Great, I have some potato salad I'm bringing,” she chirps.  

“Uh,” you look at her blue checkered capris and pristine white blouse, “should I change?” 

“It’s up to you. I'm just going to get packed up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

Her excitement is palpable. She probably expected you to say no. You don’t want to let her down again. You’re tired of that feeling. 

You close the door as she bounces away and you retreat to search through your still unpacked suitcase. Your clothes hang over the sides. You pick out a band shirt and a pair of dark grey jeans. You don’t have any shorts and you know your repertoire of dark colours only draws in the sun’s fury, and like of the vaunted HOA, but you don’t have many options. 

You emerge with a pair of converse in hand and head into the kitchen. Rhiannon snaps the lid onto a big bowl as she beams up at you. You don’t understand how you share the same blood, she’s so different than you. Where you’re tall and gangly, she’s small and dainty; where your dour and reticent, she’s bright and bubbly. Your parents even kidded that you must’ve been switched at the hospital. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

You nod and look down at yourself. 

“If you want to borrow a skirt or something, it’s pretty hot out.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You don’t take her offer as any comment on your choice, only genuine concern. If it was your mom, you would know it was more than that. To be fair, your mother is very direct with her critiques. Besides, even if her clothes would fit you, you don’t want to risk ruining any of her things. 

“Alrighty, well, Marge will kill me if I’m late again,” she sings and sweeps around with the bowl. “It’ll be nice to get out, huh?” 

“Mhmm,” you grumble and follow her down the hall to the front door. 

She steps into her wedged sandals as you sit to pull on your converse and lace them up. You stand and get the door for her as she prances towards it. She thanks you and you trail her out. The sun hits you like fire. It’s so hot, though you think some of the heat comes from your own self-consciousness. 

As you catch up to your sister at the bottom of the steps, you slow down to keep from outpacing her shorter legs. Even with her platformed soles, she’s still ahead shorter than you. You turn down the sidewalk as you shy away from the strange faces headed in the same direction. 

“You want me to carry that?” You offer. 

“Hey, I might be small but I can handle a salad,” she chirps. 

“I know, I wasn’t--” 

“I’m teasing. It’s fine, I got it,” she assures you as she hugs the bowl to her stomach, “I just want you to have a good day. Don’t think about everything else, okay?” 

“Mm, okay,” you keep your head down as you slink next to her jouncing steps, “sorry, I'll try not to be too grim.” 

“Whatever, you’re awesome,” she nudges you with her elbow, “you just be yourself and I know you’ll find some good friends around here.” 

You try to smile but it hurts. She always sees the best in others, even when it’s not there. You keep pace with her and turn up another curated lawn. The walk is perfectly laid and the blossom tree sways overhead. 

Rhiannon is welcomed through the open gate by one of those blonde women she has her book club with and you shuffle in with your hands in your pockets. You feel the woman’s harsh gaze and peek up. She looks at you the same way your mother does. Her name is Marge and her friend is Callie and there are dozens of the Stepford-like figures posted throughout the yard. 

“Come, let’s put your salad out,” Marge insists. 

Rhiannon looks at you and you chew your cheek, “go, I'll be fine.” 

She looks reluctant but you’re already walking away. You ignore the smell of sausage and beef rising from the barbeque and the splash and laughter of children from the pool. You aren’t going to find any friends here. That much is clear. Housewives and little kids, you don’t really fit the bill. 

You find your way to the far end of the lawn and stand by a tree you might just blend into. Or maybe you might bury yourself in the rose bushes. You pull your hands from your pockets and hook your fingers into your belt loops, swaying as you watch a bumble bee hover over the grass. 

“Foo Fighters, huh?” A low drawl brings your head up as a man approaches with a beer bottle in hand. 

“Um, yeah,” you look down at your shirt, tugging on the hem. 

“You go to a show?” He asks as he stops near you, drinking from the bottle as he waits for your answer. 

“Never been to one,” you cross your arms, “but I listen to them.” 

“Ah, yeah, well, they put on a hell of a show,” he wiggles the bottle as he talks, “lot more fun than these things.” 

You look up the yard towards the mingling of voices and sound. Despite your efforts to hide in a corner, you must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Shoot, maybe he thinks you’re trespassing. 

“I came with my sister,” you point and shift towards the party, “sorry, um, Rhiannon. I didn’t... I was just looking at the roses.” 

“Not my party,” he scoffs, “I don’t care.” 

“Oh,” you blink and look at him. He's about your height, dark curly hair, and vibrant blue eyes. His dark beard is thick and stubble prickles along his neck. He wears a plain white shirt and jeans; the bare minimum. “Right, er, well...” 

“Not a bad idea, hiding behind a tree,” he remarks, “but you're missing the key ingredient.” 

He stops and stares, crooking a brow as if you should know what he means. 

“Alcohol,” he raises his bottle, “they got a keg even. Probably the only good part about these bull—these things.” 

“I don’t drink,” you mutter, “but thanks.” 

You put your head down and stare at the grass around his shoes. You don’t know why he’s bothering you if it isn’t to make you leave. Obviously, you don’t belong. 

“Never too late to start,” he snorts and stays as he is. 

You don’t know how to make him leave you alone so you say nothing. The bee dips into a tulip’s mouth and you turn to watch it. Maybe he’ll take your silence as a hint. 

[astrojulia]

Tarot Cards as Professions

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Major Arcanas:

The Fool: Work with abroad, connections with imports, language teacher, multinationals, entrepreneur, intern, college student, art major.

The Magician: Entrepreneur, job that needs skill with the hands (acupuncture, hairdresser, artisan), actor, salesperson, influencer.

The High Priestess: Education, especially children, nutrition, psychology, cook, housewife, food engineering, toy factory, fortuneteller, spiritual advisor, librarian.

The Empress: Management, business administration, foreign trade, secretariat, translation, decoration, stay-at-home mom, model, cook, farmer.

The Emperor: Business administration, work related to areas of technological innovation, the military or sportsmen, CEO, tycoon.

The Hierophant: Philanthropic areas, ONGs, religious work, social work, diplomacy, and a degree, journalism, writer, editor, priest, spiritual guru, politician.

The Lovers: Sales area in any sector, tourism, theater, advertising, the arts in general, porn star, stripper, masseuse.

The Chariot: Activities related to transport, cars, the latest technology, chauffeur, mechanic, athlete.

Strength: Aesthetics, physical education and various body therapies, medicine, zoologist.

The Hermit: Teacher, writer, doctor, antique dealer, restorer, librarian, gardener.

Wheel of Fortune: Financial market, exchange offices, casinos, lottery houses, stock exchanges, and areas related to public relations, hospitality, game show host.

Justice: Public jobs, won through competitions, politics, police, with government positions, in the diplomatic area, law, insurance company worker.

The Hanged Man: Nurse, auditor, inspector, porter, secretariat, general assistants, yoga instructor, prison guard, philanthropist.

Death: Doctor, farmer, geologist, business administrator, gardener, accountant, assassin, death row executioner, surgeon.

Temperance: Working with liquids in general or with what is transported in liquid form such as alcoholic beverages, medicines, juices. chemist, chef, food critic, regional or even international traffic.

The Devil: Does not limit the individual to a professional wing, so he can also go to extremes for the desire he has, such as landlord, drug lord, sex trafficker.

The Tower: Social assistance, humanitarian aid, medicine, firefighter, police officer, construction worker.

The Star: Music, painting, sculpture, poetry, cinema, makeup artist, dressmaker, beautician, agent, promoter, sound artist, astronomer, harpist, dealer, meteorologist.

The Moon: Oceanographers, sailors, fishermen, owners of bars and restaurants or nightclubs, artists in general, medium, hypnotist, psychiatrist.

The Sun: Motivational speaker, entertainer, comedian, social relationships, work with the public, artist in general, member of society.

Judgment: Work done at home, connection with the law, lawyer, judge, work with disabled or people excluded from society, social assistance, board member, executive producer, director.

The World: Pharmacist, massage therapist, scientist, teacher, community leader, religious leader or priest, fashion designer, makeup artist, interior decorator.

Wands:

Creative industries such as advertising, marketing, and graphic design.

Entrepreneurship and starting your own business.

Athletics, sports coaching, or physical training.

Outdoor jobs like park ranger or tour guide.

Event planning or organizing.

Firefighters or rescue workers.

Ace of Wands: Entrepreneur, startup founder, motivational speaker, fitness coach, personal trainer.

Two of Wands: Business strategist, project manager, travel agent, international consultant, import/export specialist.

Three of Wands: Sales representative, marketing manager, e-commerce entrepreneur, market researcher, international trade coordinator.

Four of Wands: Event planner, wedding coordinator, party organizer, festival manager, hospitality industry professional.

Five of Wands: Conflict resolution specialist, mediator, lawyer, debate coach, competitive sports coach.

Six of Wands: Public relations manager, spokesperson, social media influencer, motivational speaker, winning athlete.

Seven of Wands: Defense attorney, human rights activist, political campaigner, advocate, civil liberties lawyer.

Eight of Wands: Courier, delivery driver, airline pilot, travel blogger, expedition guide.

Nine of Wands: Security guard, bodyguard, soldier, endurance athlete, self-defense instructor.

Ten of Wands: Overworked entrepreneur, project manager, event organizer, professional organizer, heavy equipment operator.

Page of Wands: Assistant in a creative field, aspiring artist, intern in a startup, social media coordinator, apprentice.

Knight of Wands: Travel journalist, adventure tour guide, professional athlete, race car driver, stunt performer.

Queen of Wands: CEO, business owner, charismatic leader, life coach, influential speaker.

King of Wands: Executive manager, entrepreneur, leadership coach, consultant, director of a creative agency.

Cups:

Counseling, therapy, or social work.

Hospitality industry, including restaurant management and bartending.

Wedding planner or event coordinator.

Artistic fields like poetry, writing, or acting.

Healing professions such as nursing or holistic therapy.

Psychologist or counselor specializing in emotions and relationships.

Ace of Cups: Therapist, counselor, social worker, holistic healer, emotional support specialist.

Two of Cups: Marriage counselor, matchmaker, relationship coach, wedding planner, love psychic.

Three of Cups: Event organizer, party planner, celebratory event coordinator, community organizer.

Four of Cups: Meditation teacher, mindfulness coach, spiritual counselor, psychologist, therapist.

Five of Cups: Grief counselor, trauma therapist, hospice worker, emotional healing practitioner, bereavement support.

Six of Cups: Child psychologist, teacher, daycare worker, children's book author, pediatric nurse.

Seven of Cups: Creative writer, fantasy novelist, imaginative artist, dream analyst, visionary.

Eight of Cups: Travel blogger, adventure seeker, spiritual pilgrim, explorer, wanderlust photographer.

Nine of Cups: Life coach, happiness consultant, gratitude coach, self-help author, wellness retreat organizer.

Ten of Cups: Family therapist, marriage and family counselor, foster care advocate, wedding planner, family mediator.

Page of Cups: Creative writer, artist in training, intuitive healer, aspiring therapist, dream interpreter.

Knight of Cups: Actor, romantic poet, musician, art therapist, love and relationship coach.

Queen of Cups: Psychic reader, intuitive healer, counselor, compassionate caregiver, therapist.

King of Cups: Therapist, counselor, intuitive mentor, emotional intelligence trainer, psychologist.

Swords:

Legal professions like lawyers, judges, or law enforcement officers.

Journalists, reporters, or investigators.

IT specialists, computer programmers, or hackers.

Teachers or professors specializing in critical thinking or philosophy.

Military or defense-related careers.

Strategic planners or analysts.

Ace of Swords: Lawyer, judge, legal consultant, investigative journalist, strategic planner.

Two of Swords: Mediator, conflict resolution specialist, negotiator, diplomat, relationship counselor.

Three of Swords: Divorce lawyer, grief counselor, trauma therapist, emotional healer, heart surgeon.

Four of Swords: Rest and relaxation specialist, meditation teacher, spiritual retreat organizer, yoga instructor.

Five of Swords: Military strategist, competitive sports coach, lawyer specializing in litigation, debate coach.

Six of Swords: Travel agent, relocation consultant, therapist specializing in transitions, boat captain.

Seven of Swords: Private investigator, spy, intelligence analyst, cybersecurity expert, undercover agent.

Eight of Swords: Social justice lawyer, human rights advocate, disability rights activist, therapist specializing in limiting beliefs.

Nine of Swords: Insomnia specialist, anxiety therapist, nightmare counselor, sleep coach, mental health counselor.

Ten of Swords: Surgeon, coroner, forensic scientist, mortician, grief counselor.

Page of Swords: Researcher, journalist, fact-checker, apprentice in a legal field, investigative reporter.

Knight of Swords: Military officer, police officer, attorney, competitive fencer, conflict resolution specialist.

Queen of Swords: Judge, lawyer, critic, journalist, literary agent.

King of Swords: Judge, attorney, CEO, strategist, military general.

Pentacles:

Financial advisors or investment bankers.

Real estate agents or property developers.

Agriculture, farming, or gardening.

Architects, builders, or construction workers.

Conservationists or environmentalists.

Accountants or bookkeepers.

Ace of Pentacles: Financial advisor, investment banker, wealth manager, entrepreneur, luxury goods retailer.

Two of Pentacles: Financial analyst, accountant, bookkeeper, event planner, stock trader.

Three of Pentacles: Architect, contractor, project manager, teamwork facilitator, craftsman.

Four of Pentacles: Wealth manager, investor, financial planner, asset protection specialist, treasurer.

Five of Pentacles: Social worker, philanthropist, charity organizer, financial counselor, volunteer.

Six of Pentacles: Philanthropist, humanitarian worker, non-profit manager, social worker, charitable fundraiser.

Seven of Pentacles: Gardener, farmer, agricultural consultant, sustainability expert, botanist.

Eight of Pentacles: Craftsperson, artisan, apprentice, skilled tradesperson, technical trainer.

Nine of Pentacles: Luxury brand manager, independent business owner, successful entrepreneur, vineyard owner, art collector.

Ten of Pentacles: Real estate developer, property investor, family business owner, generational wealth manager, financial advisor.

Page of Pentacles: Intern, student, apprentice in a practical field, aspiring entrepreneur, entry-level employee.

Knight of Pentacles: Accountant, financial planner, farmer, skilled tradesperson, meticulous worker.

Queen of Pentacles: CEO, business owner, property developer, hospitality industry entrepreneur, financial advisor.

King of Pentacles: CEO, business mogul, successful investor, high-level executive, financial consultant.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[tanadrin]

Thoughts on Dune pt2:

Excellent cinematography, set design, music, and effects. It is a gorgeous movie, and as a science fiction movie it does a very good job of portraying a world that feels big, believable, and complicated, even though in terms of number of visited locations and characters Dune is just not that complicated a plot, and the setting has some serious plot holes (what do millions of Fremen eat? Where is their industrial base? How do they manufacture or acquire future tech like stillsuits that they need?)

Some plot dynamics Villanueve has decided to spell out a little too meticulously, like Paul’s reluctant Messiahhood. Other aspects he simplified too much: the ending falls a little flat because some important moving pieces are absent (the politics of the spacing guild and Bene Gesserit in particular). It also bugs me that they go to the trouble of explicitly showing Paul recovering the family atomics, but not why the Great Houses can’t use atomics in normal warfare, and hence why they don’t just nuke Paul from orbit after he takes Arrakeen.

I’m not sure I’m totally on board with some of the character interpretations; I think the comically over the top evil Harkonnens in particular tended more toward goofy than threatening.

All in all, Dune is a drama-first science fiction story with a unique vibe and some pretty epic moments. You have to make that drama believable while preserving the heightened character of the narrative, and you also have to make the *world* believable. I think overall the movie succeeds. It’s extremely fun to watch, and the core emotional//dramatic structure is there. I have some gripes, but I hope Villanueve continues with Dune Messiah. It certainly will not be boring.

[ssivinee]

✧In Control✧

Jam Republic! Kirsten Dodgen x Idol! F Reader: You were the famous soloist, Han Y/n, and held a complex reputation for yourself, but that doesn't stop Mnet from inviting you as a guest judge on Street Woman Fighter 2. You didn't know much about the foreign dancers, but this one caught your eye.

Word Count: 4.8k

Note: I toooootally didn't struggle while writing this🥲

Character Vision Board

Being in the limelight was always familiar territory to you. It was something you were always bound by due to your sister being one of the most notable actresses in the acting industry today. Your older sister, Han Sohee, had always been popular with everyone. Her authoritative and sophisticated qualities had everyone on their knees, adoring her existence. With releases like “My Name” and “Nevertheless” on Netflix, your sister has been recognized for her talents worldwide. You couldn’t have been more proud of your sister's mind-blowing career, always supporting it in any manner.

You, on the other hand, had your fame in the music field. The Han Y/n began as a soloist under Pnation and had a significant fanbase, mainly consisting of Sohee’s fangirls. Nevertheless, when you started releasing music, your career exploded with the sound of R&B you delivered. The public idolized your image, often calling you the “Predebut Han Sohee.” You had tattoos and piercings, had an extended wolf cut, loved partying, and had the tomboy style. It had the male public hating you and their girlfriends wanting you. Through your career with Pnation, you gained many friends who were also soloists in the industry, B.I. being one of them. During his time with YG, you always went to their concerts, ensuring your best friend knew you’d be right by his side no matter what.

If people didn’t believe in your bond before, the union was proven when you made an unexpected move. When B.I. left YG and decided to create the 131 Label, you quickly joined the company and collaborated with the fellow soloist. BTBT was a hit, not only in popularity, but the song was undeniably a banger, and you were honored to even be featured in it, even making an appearance in the music video. 

But fame wasn’t always going to be in your favor. As an avid party girl, you fell into a hole of rumors and lies. You were in a scandal after almost every event, especially with female idols. So here you were again, with Hanbin and Sohee in your apartment, reading the statement your company had released, denying the accusations again. This time, it was with Blackpink’s Rose, as the public had seen you coming out of dinner together in Paris.

“I just can’t be friends with anyone nowadays.” You scoff, forehead in hand, and hear both chuckling at your issue. “You can’t blame the public, Y/n. Everyone is just in love with you,” your sister points out, and you roll your eyes. “Says you, unnie.”

“You should be used to this by now, noona,” Hanbin tells you with shrugging shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh. “I am, though! It seems like the public is the one who isn’t.” You were aware of your impression on the public, but it irritated you when they acted this way. But that was just part of your job, telling yourself that every single time a scandal happened. “Disregarding that for now, aren’t you excited about next week?” Hanbin asks you, and Sohee looks at him confusingly. 

“I’m the guest judge for Street Woman Fighter,” you say in a calm timbre, and your sister’s eyes widen. “You gonna meet Jam Republic, Bebe, and Tsubakill?” You look shocked at your sister. “You knew who was on the show yet had no idea I’d be guesting next week?” Your teasing tone made your sister smack your arm, “I only saw clips, okay? But I’m excited for you!” She gets jumpy in her chair while Hanbin laughs at you, a face holding disgust as you watch your sister. “She can’t even be happy. She knows nothing about the international crews,” Hanbin points at you accusingly, and you just shake your head. “I can’t help it, okay? I only know 1Million because of Lia unnie.”

As the two of them argue with you and introduce the other crews to you, a set of girls were squealing in their hotel in another part of Seoul. The two youngest of Jam Republic watched on an iPad, and the three oldest sat there, watching them in slight worry. “Are they okay?” Ling whispers to the two, and Latrice laughs, “They’ve been obsessed with Han Y/n since they found out she’d be the next guest judge.” 

“Han Y/n?” Kristen asks confusingly. Ling and Latirce can’t hold back the distress on their faces, “Yes, Kirs, THE Han Y/n.” Kristen shrugs at their words, “I don’t know her.” That’s when the two youngest hear this and let out a blaring gasp. “Girl, you have to listen to her music,” Audrey says, shoving her phone in the leader’s face. Kristen listened and was pleased to hear everything presented to her.

“Dude, she’s smoking hot, man,” Emma voices, and she relaxes more on the couch, thinking of seeing your face. Ling rolls her eyes at her, and Latrice smiles, finding Emma’s rare fangirling cute. 

This intrigues Kirsten. Emma wouldn’t openly share things like that but had no hesitation regarding you. 

Before the day came to the first start of the Kpop mission, Kirsten found herself having your songs on repeat, dancing to them when she had the time. Her crew observed her, loving her newfound liking for you. Well, not you specifically. The woman still had no idea about what you looked like, only ravishing over your music.

“She gonna be so surprised tomorrow,” Ling tells the group as they watch their leader dance in the studio, and everyone nods. “Agreed.”

Finally, it was time for your appearance on the show, and you made sure to be prepared for the first impressions you were about to have on most of the girls.

The ride there was quite eventful, though. Friends were blowing up your phone in anticipation of your presence on the show. So when you make your way into the building, you send a selfie to the group chat, showing the building's lobby. Everyone fans over the sight and asks you to take pictures with specific crews, and you laugh at their texts. 

You go backstage and see the guest room that was prepared for you. As you sat in a chair, the team touched up your hair and makeup. “Oh Y/n-nim!” You hear and see Monika coming from the door. “Monika-saem! It’s nice to see you again,” she greets you with a side hug. “Are you ready for this?”

“I can’t deny I’m a little nervous,” you tell her as you anxiously move around in the chair. “You? Nervous? Never thought I’d hear that from you,” she jokes while patting your back. “I’m not known to be a dancer like that! I’m just worried about the public's opinion.” She then looks you dead in the eyes, “You know well that you shouldn’t be worried. The people will always love you, Y/n-ah. Besides, everyone knows you’re a talented dancer.”

“Thank you, unnie.” She nods at your appreciation and smiles. “Have you met Shownu yet?” You shake, “I met him during the Hero promotions a few years ago.” The male idol walks in as if right on queue, with 3 caramel iced coffees in his hand. “I heard my name?”

“Of course you did. With your sonic hearing,” you say, making the two judges laugh. He hands you the coffee, and you thank him. “Dude, you’re gonna be so hyped when you see them all dance.” Your brow raises at his statement, “Now you're raising my expectations too high. They might blame you if I’m too harsh on them.”

“You can’t even be too harsh. They’re all professionals. I'm sure they’ll be to your standards.” Monika points out, and Shownu nods. Everyone starts getting ready, and when it's time to announce you, you hear Daniels' voice ringing in your ears. “Today, as your guest judge for the Kpop mission, we have Korean-American solo artist Han Y/n.”

You walk out onto the stage's walkway, bowing at everyone as you walk to your seat. Emma and Audrey could be seen jumping up and down, hugging each other when seeing you in person. Ling and Latrice, on the other hand, felt a sense of comfort when they heard that you're also American. They blindly trusted you, hoping you wouldn’t be so biased amongst the Korean crews.

Kirsten was the only one who stood in that room, frozen, when you walked in. She knew to predict someone attractive since the girls fangirled over your face for the entire week, but she wasn't expecting this. You looked like you were built by the gods. All she wanted to do was get on her knees and thank them.

“Wah~ Everyone’s right when they say she's every girl's type.” 1Million Redy says in awe of you.

“She’s so pretty, what the heck?”

“You think I can get a picture after?”

All the crews cheered and gossiped at your appearance, admiring your appearance.

“Hello, I’m soloist Han Y/n. Please take care of me,” you bow and introduce yourself in Korean, English, and Japanese to the teams. “I’d love to take care of you,” Kirsten mumbles under her breath, but Latrice hears the words, giggling at the sight of her leader, who looked like she was about to drool because of you. “Kirs, pull yourself together.”

“I can’t help it, like are we looking at the same person?” Kirsten dramatically sighed, and the girls teased. “Maybe you should ask her for help later~.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to help you,” Ling gazes at her leader with a wink. “Alright, please pay attention and stop bullying me,” they all laugh, and your eyes find their way to the sound. “The Kpop mission has everyone fighting against each other with songs under the 4 companies: HYBE, JYP, SM, and YG.”

You relax in the chair, manspreading a little as Daniel continues, “2 of the 4 companies have a three-way tie and will battle it out here in the fight zone. The crew with the most votes will have to choose a different company to work with.” You nod in understanding. As much as Kirsten would like to say she was listening, she watched your loosened stance on the chair. You looked so fine just sitting there, and Kirsten bit her lips at the sight of you. She was a sucker for piercings and tattoos, which you did have, but her eyes lingered on your arms. Your veins could be seen popping out as they rested comfortably on your chest, and your lap looked like the perfect seat for her. “We’ll start off today with HYBE. Jam Republic, you're up first,” Daniel announces, pulling Kristen out of her unholy thoughts.

The girls get up from their seats, stretching more, “Should we just go for it?” She asks her team, and everyone nods, “Yeah, let's go.”

The girls stood before the judges as some other crews stayed beside them to enjoy the front view. Your eyes travel from every girl on the team until you stop at the leader. “Kirsten Dodgen, huh?” You whisper, remembering everything Hanbin and Sohee told you about the girl. How she was the famous “green shirt girl” in Justin Beiber’s “Sorry” music video and how she was part of the mega crew, the Royal Family. With this information in mind, your eyes never left hers as they performed.

When holding the starting pose, Kirsten feels the weight of your gaze, feeling her hands gradually sweat. The music begins with Le Seraphim's track starting them off,  and regardless of how nervous you make the girl, she shows you every cent of confidence she has. Her hips moved swiftly like water, and you can’t help but bite your lip at the sight. She could really move, you admit to yourself. The afro-dance was evident in how she carried herself, the rhythm similar to the choreography of BTBT, which led to your body feeling uncontrollable. Swaying to the way they moved.

“Well, we know who Y/n would’ve voted for,” Mina Myoung quips as all the crews watch you enjoy their performance. “Dope” by BTS begins to blare on the speakers, and their groove switches to Hip-Hop. Audrey put a smile on your face with her facial expressions and nearing the end, when the finale consisted of the little twist their waist did with an added reverb effect, you toss your hands up with a clap, “That was nasty,” you told Shownu who nods in agreement. 

Mannequeen then took the stage, and once again, everyone had high energy as they watched. The same could be said for DeepNDap. Still, once people saw the votes, everyone felt the intensity of the room when seeing DeepNDap lost by a landslide compared to the two other crews. “That’s gotta burn,” you mumble.

Next was the JYP battle, and Tsubakill went first. Your attentiveness shows with the scary look in your eyes, but you get hyped up when Tsubakill uses their shirts as a prop, clapping at the scene. Then, Team Bebe joined the stage, and it was phenomenal. You shouldn’t have felt any anxiety or nervousness since you thoroughly enjoyed each performance, especially when Bada is revealed through the imitation of double doors. You smirk at the sight, finding it quite enticing to look at. 

“Another heart stealer, huh?” You tell Shownu, who chuckles at your words. While you watch, Kirsten notices the look you give team Bebe. “Looks like someone likes team Bebe as well,” and the team looks at you. “I don’t blame her,” Audrey shrugs, and Emma laughs, “Everyone’s in love with Bada as well. They’re like a match made in heaven.”

Kirsten's chest tightens at her members' words. You surely weren't interested in the taller dancer...right?

“Kirs? You good?” Latrice asks, and she nods, not wanting to expose herself, but Emma catches on quickly. “I think Kirs may have a slight problem,” the second youngest teases the leader, and the younger girl points at Bada. “She may have some competition.” Kirsten rolls her eyes at the girls as they snicker around her. Because of their noises, your attention goes to them. You see the frustration on the girl's face, and it makes you smile. She looked so adorable with a pout on her face. This causes you to barely watch the 1Million stage.

“I hope whatever song we get, we’ll do good.”

“We’re always good guys. As long as we try our best, that’s all that matters.” You hear from the dancer and nod to yourself, her words also resonating with you. When the votes came in, Tsubakill had zero votes, and you gasped. Everyone must’ve really liked the dance if they had no votes. So when each group is presented with their company of choice, everyone begins practicing.

You began walking around, handing bottles to each team and chatting with them. Your first few stops were DeepNDap, Lady Bounce, Mannequeen, and Wolf’Lo, and then you make it to the trendiest crew on the show.

“Hello~,” you said, bowing to the girls of team Bebe. They all look at you with terrified eyes. You chuckle at this, “Here, I don’t bite,” you tell them as you hand the water bottles, everyone thanking you. “You didn’t have to, Y/n-nim,” the blonde, Tatter, says, but you shake your head. “It’s the least I can do for you guys.”

You straighten your shirt and ask, “Do you guys have anything yet?” “Yeah, we have a bit for the chorus,” Bada says, and you settle in the dance studio a bit more, sitting on the floor in front of them. “Can I get a sneak peek?” They all nod excitedly, and you hide a giggle, finding the younger girls cute. They play Maniac by Stray Kids from the chorus, and your smile grows when you see the blonde being dragged with her team walking, almost like robots, beside her. When finished presenting, you stand up, clapping your hands. “I can’t wait to see the final product, girls.” They bow, most covering their face in happiness. “You're leading your team well. I can tell your chemistry is strong,” you say as you pat Bada’s arms. “Thank you, Y/n,” she smiles, and you head out. “Okay, good luck, guys! I’m gonna bring more water for the other teams.”

Then your next stop is 1Million, and you enter their rehearsal room with a cheesing grin. “Lia-unnie~,” you say, walking towards her to hug her. You had worked with Lia in a previous comeback and were close friends with her. She made the entire process enjoyable for you. You always kept that in mind since it was stressful, and you appreciated her guidance. “Y/n-ah,” she says softly, reciprocating the loving hug. “I brought all you guys water,” you tell them, showing the bag filled with bottles.

They thank you, and you watch them practice a little, and you can tell Lia is stressed the entire time. So once they took a break, you approached her, giving her a piece of candy. “Here, don’t be too hard on yourself, unnie,” you say, patting the older’s shoulder. “I can’t help it, Y/n. Everyone has high expectations for me here.” You nod, understanding the pressure she felt. “That doesn’t matter. You’re one of the greatest choreographers out there. I’m sure you’ll make it past this unnie,” you try and reassure her, and she tells you to get going so they can practice. You mumble fine and move along to your next destination.

Tsubakill. The girls were so concentrated on practicing they didn’t even notice your arrival in their room. “Hello?” You question in Japanese, and they jump in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you all,” you chuckle at their reactions.

“I’m here to just deliver some water, and I’ll be out of your way,” they gratefully accepted the water bottles but were curious. “Your Japanese is really good. Where did you learn?” Their youngest, Rena, questions you.

“Aye~ I’m not that good. But I wanted to learn for my Japanese fans to communicate with them when promoting.” A series of ‘ah’s could be heard. “That does make sense.”

“Anyways, I don’t think you guys need any of my feedback right now, so I’ll leave you all to it,” you wave off and end with the final team you were anticipating. You searched for them in every room but finally found them practicing on the walkway area on the second floor. 

Your eyes linger on the team, not wanting to distract them while they do a draft take of their dance. That's when your gaze lands on Kirsten as she leads her team, “So when we do this swing part, I want both of you to kind of mimic the movement,” she tells Ling and Latrice, who automatically follow her lead, taking the critiques into account.

“Hey,” you voice out, and everyone stares at you, not knowing what to say. “Um… I brought you guys some water,” you say in English, and they smile. “Thanks,” Kirsten tells you, and you give a curt nod, “It’s no problem.”

“You guys are insane, by the way,” you say as you tilt your head to the side. “I hope you guys don’t mind if I watch your practice for a bit.”

“Of course not, by all means. Just try and get comfortable,” she gives you a wink with a teasing grin, and your head falls back due to her gesture. This girl was gonna be trouble for you. You travel to a chair in the corner and watch as the practice goes on, eyes never leaving Kirsten's figure.

Your head spins at how she moves, finding her body rousing to witness. That was until they made it to the next series of parts. Kirsten had to shake her hips, but somehow, it wasn’t up to the quality of your liking. You raise your hand, and the crew notices, “Yes, Y/n?” “Sorry, but when you move your hips, you can exaggerate more.”

“Can you show us what you mean?” Latrice presses on, and you make your way over to Kirsten. You towered behind their leader, and your hands traveled down her hips. Position her into the move and put pressure on your hands as you take control of her lower half. Kirsten’s mind was out of focus when she felt your strong, veiny hands touching her. “I know you can move those hips, girl, so how about we put them to work?” You question in her ear, and she has a devious grin. “Show me then.”

Her team watches as you rotate her hips with the touch of your hands, and they can’t help but giggle on the sidelines. “She took asking for help way too seriously,” Audrey whispers, and the rest nod with their fits of giggles.

You two feel a rhythm despite no music, and Kirsten’s heart fastens as you caress her waist. “Shit, you- you are so beautiful,” you mumble but make sure she heard it, and her face reddened. She shakes her head, straightens, and claps at her team, “Alright, thank you, Y/n, but we have to do some more choreo to be in top shape in 2 days.” You stand there a bit surprised, which follows a soft laugh at her crappy excuse. “Okay, okay. I’ll just watch a bit more.” You sat back in your chair, watching them more freely this time as they did their work.

After an hour, you look at the phone and decide it is an excellent time to head home, but talk to the girls before leaving. “Are you guys free tomorrow?” “I believe so, why?” Kirsten asks, and you hand your phone over to her, “I thought it would be a good idea to bring all the crews out for a relaxing night. I was gonna rent out the VIP section of a club before you guys performed.”

The girls all jump in excitement while Audrey sulks, and you pat her head, “I know you're too young, Audrey, but I’ll plan a dinner with everyone just for you.” Her eyes brighten at your promise as she hugs you. “Okay, don’t kill the woman now, Audrey,” Ling tells the youngest, and everyone laughs. Kristen puts her number in, and you grin, “Okay, good luck with practice, girls. I’ll chat with you later, Kristen,” you point at her, and she waves you off seductively. 

“Kirs is down bad right now.”

“Stand up, girl,” Emma jokes, and the leader rolls her eyes at the team.

The next day, every girl was preparing for the long night ahead, and Audrey watched her team as they frantically ran around their hotel room. “You guys look good in anything,” the youngest says, but everyone pays no mind. “This is what I get for trying to be nice,” she mumbles, but Emma hears it and laughs. “They stressed Auds. What can we do,” Emma says with a shrug.

After an hour, all the girls were ready, and Kirsten revealed her outfit. She had a pleated denim skirt, a pale yellow halter top, and white mini-heels. The leader's hair looked slightly slicked back, and it tied everything together. “Ooo~, who are you about to show out for?” Ling taunts and Kirs has a light smirk on her face, “You already know, girl.”

The girls squeal in eagerness, “So we ready to go?” The older three nod and Audrey walks them out, “Be safe, and don’t come home too late.”  The older girls hug her goodbye and travel to the club by Uber. You had sent the leader the details, and she was incredibly excited when you said, “I can’t wait to see you there, beautiful.” It caused her so much happiness the entire day that she couldn’t sit still. 

Once the four entered the club, they were escorted to the VIP area on the second floor, overlooking the crowds who cheered for Y/n and the other crews. You sat at the bar, Lia and Bada by your side, with a dark-colored drink in hand. Kristen halts when she sees you. Your attendance wakes her up as she notices every detail about you.

Kirsten wanted to tell you how delicious you looked, but just for the sake of her pride, she greets the other girls instead before getting to you. Bada points at the foreign crew, making you look at them, and a coy grin forms on your face. The Jam Republic crew began to split up, talking to multiple other teams, and you made your way over to Kristen, who sat with some of the Mannequeen girls.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you say, handing her a drink of soju, as you weren’t really familiar with her type of alcohol. She thanks you and sips the beverage, “I’d never say no to a party and having fun.”

“I don’t either, but I was kinda excited for this one,” You voiced in a playful tone, and Kirsten smirked, deciding to play along. “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Your body bends down to her ear, and she feels your breath tickling her as you breathe out, “It means I get to see you more.”

The shorter girl’s breathing becomes unsteady at the close distance. Still, Kirsten's exact flirtatious nature wouldn’t make that obvious. You take her hand and lead her to the bar, “Is there something you prefer to drink?” “Coke and rum would be nice,” and your eyebrows go up at this. “My type of girl,” You tell her calmly, ordering the drink as a blush forms on her cheeks. “So, the green shirt girl in Justin Bieber’s music video?” Kristen lets out a burst of laughter at your random question.

“You went viral all those years ago, and I never knew who you were? I’m so out of touch with internet culture,” you shared, your head hanging low with a chuckle. “It’s fine. I was also seventeen then, so you probably wouldn’t even recognize me.”

“SEVENTEEN?” You inquisitively ask, and she nods. “Well, you grew up into a fine young woman, if I say so myself,” you tell her as you take a swig of alcohol. “You say that as if you’re much older than me,” Kirsten looks at you with a questioning face. “Hey, 3 years is quite some time, okay?” You point out, both of you letting out a laugh. 

“How about you? I don’t know how you got into dancing,” She says truthfully, and you think. “It hasn’t been that long since I started. Compared to you guys, I’m pretty mediocre at best.” Now, that statement, Kirsten knew, was a lie. “That’s definitely not true,” She says, and you look at her curiously. “How would you know?”

“Or else you wouldn’t have been a judge on the show,” She explains. The truth was, she had watched some of your dancing videos throughout the years, but why would she want to expose herself in front of you. “That’s true, I guess.” You were about to continue, but another song started, and the whole club cheered. Kirsten’s eyes brightened at the song, and she pulled you to the dance floor, “Come on, let’s dance!” She says, trying to yell over the loud music.

Once the two of you were on the dance floor, you felt the mixture of sweaty bodies and the wafting scent of alcohol that clung to everyone’s bodies. That didn’t matter to either of you, though, as Kirsten confidently whines her waist to the beat. Your eyes study her with hunger, finding every curve of her body moving to the rhythm. Your self-control defeats you as you grasp her waist, and Kristen feels the warmth of your hands. She moves back, grinding her ass on your body, and you wrap one arm around her waist as you motion in sync. The shorter applies more pressure on your pelvis, and you can’t help but let out a subtle groan in her ear, finding her irresistible. The halter top didn’t cover much, and you wanted to touch every part you could, skimming over her chest as if her skin begged to be marked.

She turns around, arms wrapping around your neck, closing the distance between you two, if possible. Now you felt her chest beating on yours, your forehead resting on each other. Her eyes linger on your lips, and you notice, when bitting your lips, that she lets out giggles of expectation. You adored the charming sounds, and your lips chased hers, and you felt the buzz of her lips on yours. The taste of sweetness from the alcohol lingered on her tongue as they mingled harmoniously. Hearing the soft whimpers encourages you to pull her waist tighter, hand leading lower and lower on her body. You pull away, trying to catch your breath as you mumble to her, “You think you’ll be able to dance if I take you home tonight?” 

“I’ll make it work,” She mumbles, pulling you in again. The kiss felt heated as her hands roam around your toned figure, “Besides, I told you I want to have fun tonight.” You smirk at her words and pull her out of the club, ensuring you made it worth her while tonight.

Tag list (OPEN): @gaymoregayandgayer @froufrousnowman @yxine @tikitsune @kpopgirl-97 @hellokittyyysstuff

[sexhaver]

at my first robotics job, i would listen to music on Youtube while working, and because i was doing it on a fresh laptop without logging into any personal accounts it was starting my advertisement profile from scratch. so obviously all of my ads were related to industrial machining/warehousing/robotics because i was only looking up work stuff, but the scary part is that within a month of me listening to Aphex Twin and Boards of Canada and Machine Girl mixes on Youtube, Google had started consistently showing me the "LGBT Diversity" flavor of ads for military contractors ("i really feel accepted for who i am here at Raytheon" type beat)

[twopoppies]

Hiya, just read this about Lorde & cancelling tours. Seems like it’s more common than I thought?

https://www.nme.com/news/music/lorde-addresses-economic-realities-of-touring-things-are-at-an-almost-unprecedented-level-of-difficulty-3347062

Oh, that’s such an interesting article. Thank you so much for sending it. It does a really good job of laying out the myriad complication involved in staging a tour these days.

“Basically, for artists, promoters and crews, things are at an almost unprecedented level of difficulty,” Lorde wrote in her letter, citing factors like “three years’ worth of shows” occurring simultaneously, global economic downturn, and concertgoers’ “totally understandable wariness” around health risks.

She went on to acknowledge logistical factors such as widespread crew shortages, linking to an article from New Zealand news outlet Stuff about the issue. “Extremely overbooked trucks and tour buses and venues, inflated flight and accommodation costs, ongoing general COVID costs, and truly mindboggling freight costs” were also listed as factors.

“To freight a stage set across the world can cost up to three times the pre-pandemic price right now. I don’t know shit about money, but I know enough to understand that no industry has a profit margin that high,” Lorde continued.

“Ticket prices would have to increase to start accommodating even a little of this, but absolutely no one wants to charge their harried and extremely-compassionate-and-flexible audience any more fucking money.

“Nearly every tour has been besieged with cancellations and postponements and promises and letdowns, and audiences have shown such understanding and such faith, that between that and the post-COVID wariness about getting out there at all, scaring people away by charging the true cost ain’t an option. All we want to do is play for you.”

Lorde went on to say that she’s lucky because profits being down across the board doesn’t pose an issue for an artist of her stature, but touring has become a “demented struggle to break even or face debt” for artists selling less tickets than her – which in some cases, can make touring prohibitive altogether.

[…]

She continued: “I wanted to put all of this in your minds to illustrate that nothing’s simple when it comes to touring at the moment, and if your faves are confusing you with their erratic moves, some of this could be playing a part.”

Full article here

[vcendent]

art vs industry

Sometimes I'm having a good day, but then sometimes I think about how industry is actively killing creative fields and that goes away. People no longer go to woodworkers for tables and chairs and cabinets, but instead pick from one of hundreds of mass-produced designs made out of cheap particle board instead of paying a carpenter for furniture that is both made to last generations and leaves room for customization. With the growth of population and international trade, the convenience and low production costs are beneficial in some aspects, but how many local craftsmen across the world were put out of business? How many people witnessed their craft die before their eyes? There is no heart or identity put into mass produced items; be it furniture, ceramics, metalwork, or home decor; and at the end of the day everybody ends up with the same, carbon copy stuff in their homes.

I'm a big fan of animated movies, and I see this same thing happening too. When was the last time western audiences saw a new 2D animated movie hit theatres? I can't speak for other countries, but, at least in America, I believe The Princess and the Frog was the last major 2D movie released and that was back in 2009. Major studios nowadays are unwilling to spend the time and money that it would take to pay traditional animators who have spent years honing their craft to go frame by frame, and to pay painters to create scene backgrounds. We talk a lot about machines replacing jobs, but when the machines come, artistry professions are some of the first to be axed (in part because industry does not see artistry as "valuable" professions). Art, music, and writing are no longer seen as "real" jobs because they belong to the creative field and there's this inane idea that anyone who goes into those fields will be unsuccessful and starving. I'm not saying that 3D animation is bad, it has its own merits and required skills and can be just as impressive as anything 2D, but it has smothered 2D animation and reduced it largely to studios that cannot afford the tech to animate 3D.

And now we have this whole AI thing to deal with, stealing existing artists' work to "train" it to take over those few professions that, until now, required actual people to do them. Internet artists have already been dealing with people complaining about the price of art for years and now have to face their work being stolen to train AI. With AI technology, anyone who undervalues the work of the artist can now get something generated at little or no cost to them, all at the expense of the artists themselves. Why would studios pay script writers when they could just get an algorithm to do it without pay? Why pay actors to bring characters to life or pay models to pose for ads when CGI has progressed enough we could digitally render humans and cut out having to pay people entirely? Why use practical effects or film on location when green screens and adding in-post is faster and so much cheaper? It's no wonder we had the SAG-AFTRA strike. AI has already been trained to write children's books and produce music, continuing down this road will replace authors and musicians too at the convenience of cost. How much longer until the actual, real-life people behind all forms of artistry become completely obsolete?

Industry is just driving the cost of people-made crafts up and up with every mass produced product and every streamlined shortcut to reduce costs, which only makes it harder and harder for artists of all kinds to make a living, as very few people want to pay for the time and skill of artists when they could just pick something off a shelf or feed AI a prompt and get something satisfactory enough, yet not what they actually wanted, for so much cheaper.

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 2: The Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w., r.b x n.w.

warnings: Heavy drug use, era-normalized!misogyny, everyone is a dick, Mention of French people, angst, fake relationships, partial interview style, no use of y/n

WC: 12K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎤

NANCY: Eddie was... not what we expected.

ROBIN: Eddie Munson looked like he’d been through some shit.

I’m not talking about the fact that he was covered in tattoos and never got a haircut. It was more that he just always looked sad and tired and kinda strung out.

NANCY: He looked a bit out of place with the rest of us.

ROBIN: He did not fit in one bit. I mean to be fair, we were a bit of a hodgepodge anyway but Eddie took the cake. 

He was pure metal, the kind of guy who should’ve been in like Iron Maiden, not a synth band! So, we were kinda confused as to why Starcourt thought it would be a good idea to bring him on board.

And then we heard him play.

NANCY: Eddie was the best guitar player we ever had and the best songwriter up until that point, too. Don’t tell Jonathan or Steve I said that, though.

ROBIN: Yeah, he was better than Steve and I would say that to Steve’s face. In fact, I did say that to Steve’s face when we first heard Eddie play.

He was not happy about that. Actually, he wasn’t happy at all when Eddie first joined.

NANCY: It didn’t take very long for us to figure out that he was only there to fulfill a contract. I mean, it wasn’t like he was the most enthusiastic to be there but he wasn’t rude or hard to work with, he just treated it like any other job. He would be polite, but not overly friendly, do his thing in the booth, and then go sit and read until we needed him again.

Steve’s ego was still a bit tender after what had happened between him and me. I think seeing Starcourt bringing in this amazingly talented guitar player did him in a little. He was always used to being the best at what he did and suddenly that was no longer true. On top of that, Eddie just didn’t care and that made it worse in Steve’s eyes. They would butt heads all the time while we were recording our self-titled album. Things were a bit tense at the beginning, but we sounded better with Eddie there, much to Steve’s chagrin.

ROBIN: If you ask me, they hated how similar they were and that’s why they didn’t get along or maybe Steve was jealous of how little Eddie had to try to be good. Either way, those few first months after Eddie joined were almost as intense as the weeks following Jancygate. Don’t get me wrong, we always sounded great but there was no cohesion. We were trying to record our first full-length album but nothing ever came out sounding right, it was driving everyone crazy.

NANCY: When you’re first starting out in the industry, you don’t really have much of a say. You do what you’re told, you go to the meetings you're scheduled, and you add whatever member they throw at you. So, when Starcourt set up a lunch meeting with one of their producers about adding someone else to the band, we had no choice but to go.

May 26, 1983: The Bull and Bush

“Tell me again who this meeting is with?” You ask Murray from across the suspiciously long table.

When he had called you earlier in the week to set up lunch, he had been uncharacteristically cryptic about who the lunch was with and only told you it was with, “A few folks over at Starcourt,” he parroted again between bites of a bread roll. You stare him down silently over the rim of your martini glass and he gives, a little.

“I think I found you a way out of all these duets and possibly a chance to write music.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Yes, that all seemed great but with Starcourt things were rarely what they seemed.

“By the looks of this table for 10, I’m starting to think that maybe you’re trying to recruit me to the company softball team, Murray.”

“Not today, sweetheart, but don’t worry, the Comets will get you eventually.”

Your second drink is interrupted by a tall, imposing man approaching the table. He has thick eyebrows that naturally knit together and a thicker mustache that rests straight along his mouth. You vaguely recognized him as an exec from the record label but his casual flowered button-down and white linen trousers make you doubt your memory.

“This is Hopper. Jim Hopper,” Murray says to you in a sweeping introduction, “he manages some bands at Starcourt.”

You can feel your face twist in confusion before you quickly temper your features and rise to introduce yourself.

Hopper takes your small hand in his comically large one and shakes it hard before sitting down next to Murray.

You watch as your new lunch companion flags down a server to order a double scotch, your mind buzzing to put the pieces together. What the hell was going on?

Hopper and Murray turn to you in tandem, reminding you of parents on sitcom TV.

Murray starts keeping his voice low, “The label thinks that you make the most money when you’re singing with others and causing some buzz. Since you made it very clear that duets are no longer an option for you, we came up with another solution.”

“I manage a band,” Hopper says then, “they’re talented but they’re newer and still trying to figure out their image and sound. We think you would be a good addition.”

This last part comes slowly, as your lunch companions try to gauge your reaction. “You want me to join a band?” You repeat, stunned. “Why?”

“As I said, they need help establishing a brand, a reputation, and that’s something that you have plenty of—“ Murray snorts “— plus, they need a solid songwriter and Murray tells me that’s you.”

Your eyes volley between the two men in front of you, trying to figure out what the catch is. There’s always a catch.

It’s like they can sense what you’re thinking because they lock eyes, and Murray sighs, “And it just so happens that they have a very handsome male lead singer and maybe part of the deal would include a bit of a front-facing, romantic narrative that would entice the public to buy your albums and go to your shows.”

“You want me to pretend to be in a relationship with some guy in a band so people buy our music? That’s your great plan?

“I’ve proved myself, Murray. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me. I sang your stupid duets and recorded that vapid EP. Are you just going to string me along forever, asking me to do stupider and stupider stunts?”

You stand and swing your arm back to grab the purse hanging from your chair. The two men mirror your movement and suddenly it feels like you’re in a stand-off.

“It’s not stupid,” Hopper says, matter-of-factly, “and we do believe in your talent, but it’s not just about talent anymore, it’s about image and it’s about what sells. Scandal sells. Look, you’re a talented kid, everyone knows that. But, talent isn’t what sells anymore. People want something to gossip about and you’ve already given them that.

“This is not some hair-brain scheme Murray and I cooked up in the fucking restroom between lines. This is years of marketing research and scouting to get the perfect combination of talent. You should consider yourself lucky that Starcourt— that Brenner, personally— picked you out of thousands to execute his little pet experiment.

“They’re going to talk about you anyway, why not have a little control over what they say? It beats them calling you a slut, doesn’t it?” 

You glare at Hopper as he’s towering over you.

“Listen kiddo,” purrs Murray, sliding into a different approach, “we’re not asking you to marry the guy. Just, have lunch with them and maybe we get you featured on their first LP, do them a favor like The Letterman’s did for you when you were just getting started, huh?

“Plus, the guy’s handsome, like total frontman full-package, so, who knows, maybe he’s your type and you won’t have to pretend!”

Murray guffaws at this like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

“Fine,” you say, your mouth pitching down in a scowl, before haughtily dropping back into your chair. They follow suit.

“One lunch, but you—“ your finger waves at Murray “—are gonna get me on the list for a cottage at the Mormont and you—“ you pivot to point at Hopper “—are getting me a French 75.”

“Please,” you add after a beat.

The two men exchange a look and Hopper rolls his eyes and stands.

“Was gonna get me another scotch anyway,” he grumbles before ambling over to the bar.

While Hopper is at the bar, Murray fills you in with as many details as possible: the band’s name (“The Downsides”), the lead singer’s name (“Steve Something”), and the rest of the band members’ names (“Johnny, Natalie, Robin, Ed... maybe?...and Argyle, no wait, that’s not a name”).

As if on cue, just as Hopper approaches the table from one side, a motley bunch of individuals, that you know have to be The Downsides, file into the restaurant. Hopper waves at them and they walk over, in a single line, all following their big-haired leader.

“These misfit toys are the band?” you snark to no one in particular and Murray shoots you a warning glare before waving at them with feigned enthusiasm.

Hopper reaches the table before they do and hands you your drink while announcing your name to the band. 

You smile in a practiced, charming way.

“Hi, you must be Steve,” you say rising to greet the tall, slender man with a mane of wild hair. Admittedly, he is much more hard-edged than you had imagined, decked out in leather and hardware with thick, silver rings adorning his fingers. Maybe this is what Hopper meant when he said the band needed help with their image--this guy was far too metal to ever break it into the mainstream.

He burst into laughs and then bumps his fist into the shoulder of the guy standing next to him, another long-haired man whose eyes were rimmed red.  

“Did you hear that, she thought I was Harrington! Buckley, come here, she thought I was Harrington!”

Your face flushes in embarrassment and you wince. So, that was not Steve.

“Hi, I’m Nancy Wheeler,” a voice says softly at your side. You turn and find yourself facing a pretty, doe-eyed girl probably around your age. The gentleness in her voice lets you know that she had witnessed your embarrassment at the hands of Not!Steve and she was trying to smooth things over, and make a good impression.

After Nancy, you shake hands with the bouncy, sometimes-bass-sometimes-brass-sometimes-synth player Robin Buckley and the shy-bordering-on-morose guitarist Jonathan Byers. The spaced-out drummer with the long locks is Argyle and Not!Steve’s name is actually Eddie Munson, which you learn only from Robin and Nancy as he doesn't bother to introduce himself. He looks vaguely familiar, but then again, everyone at Starcourt does. 

He catches you staring at him and shoots you a mocking wink. You want to scowl back, maybe even flip him off but you are too aware of how that moment, snapped by a paparazzi and sold to a gossip rag, could impact your already- precarious public image. So, instead, you raise a glass in response.

“Where the hell is Harrington?” Hopper barks at the group once they had settled. “He needed to park the car,” explains Jonathan.

“Park? Why would he need to do that?” You ask, “this place has a valet.”

An awkward silence blanketed the group as they all looked at you and then exchanged amongst themselves. You were under the impression you had just said something wrong and you weren’t sure what. 

Before you have the chance to smooth things over, the group is interrupted.

“Sorry, I’m late everyone, parking here is terrible.”

Oh, so that’s what Murray meant by ‘full frontman package’.

Steve Harrington was tall and leanly muscular with a face as sharp and bright as a jewel and hair graceful and tousled.

His eyes land on yours and your shoulders straighten with a jolt.

“Hi,” he breathes, “I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington.” 

“Hi,” you all but sigh back, an unfamiliar warmth moving up your cheeks. 

***

ROBIN: Steve “Loverboy” Harrington. He used to fall in love like three times a week back in the day. Everyone at the table could tell he was immediately smitten with her though. I mean who could blame him? She was like distractingly gorgeous. I’m pretty sure I spilled soup in my lap from staring at her. More than once. Steve spent most of the lunch making eyes at her and the crazy part was, I think she was into him! Honestly, I thought he was getting ready to propose. Until Hopper told us all why he’d really brought us there. 

***

“What? No way, Hops, we’re not adding another person to the band. Plus, we already have a lead singer—me.” Steve’s whole demeanor changed once Hopper started talking shop—he had gone from smiling flirtatiously at you from across the table to huffing like a petulant child. 

“It’s just a feature on one song, kid. If it goes well then we’ll revisit and if it doesn’t well, we better hope the rest of the album is pure gold because Brenner really wants this to go well,” Hopper tries to assuage. 

“This is never gonna work,” Steve spits out, “she doesn’t match our sound at all. Or our vibe—we have, like, substance.” 

The table goes standstill quiet upon hearing this. The only noise you hear is what you think is Robin kicking Steve under the table. 

 Steve turns to you after a beat and says, “No offense,” with a dismissive shrug. 

***

NANCY: Steve has always had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth at the worst times. He didn’t mean to come off as an ass, I don’t think, it was probably his way of lashing out against all the change that was happening without our input. First Eddie, now this, he probably felt so out of control he—I think we all did. He still shouldn’t have said it though. 

ROBIN: Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

***

All eyes land on you, awaiting the imminent explosion. 

It never comes. 

Instead, you school your features into a neutrally pleasant expression—you never know where there’ll be a camera after all—and respond sweetly, “None taken. You’re right to not want me on your track. After all, I've only had like, 6 Top 10 Singles in the last year which is nothing compared to your…wait how many have you had, again?” 

Steve’s face falls as Murray chortles from the other end of the table. 

***

NANCY: It wasn’t the nicest way to put it but it wasn’t like she had been unprovoked. Steve needed a reality check. 

ROBIN: I mean, she had a point. She was doing us a favor by recording the track with us. Dingus just needed to get over himself. 

The rest of the lunch was super awkward, in case you were wondering. She was still nice to the rest of us, but she barely acknowledged Steve, or Eddie for the matter. 

If you would’ve told me then what would eventually become of those three—ha!—I would’ve said you were insane. 

STEVE: Yeah, I know I had fucked up. Like, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I don’t know why I did it, I think I felt threatened or something. Listen, I think about what happened all the time and there isn’t one singular moment that we can pinpoint where everything went south, really, we all made mistakes, a lot of them. But sometimes, I can’t help thinking to myself that if I had just handled that day at the restaurant better, our whole lives would’ve been different. Or… who knows? Maybe not, maybe we were always meant to end as bad as we did.

***

June 7th, 1983–Los Angeles, California

A few days after your lunch with the Downsides, you see your own face peaking at you from the cover of a Subrosa magazine on a grocery store newsstand. 

You glance around before surreptitiously crouching down for a closer look.

It was a grainy picture of you and Steve, sitting across from one another at lunch, clearly in conversation. The picture had been taken from outside the restaurant and framed in such a way that it looked like it was only the two of you dining together. You can tell by the looks on your faces that it was before everything had blown up—the two of you looked like you were enjoying yourselves.

Sultry Songstress Sees Upside with the Downsides’ Flirty Frontman reads across the top of the page, and you gag. They sure do love their alliteration over at the Sub.

You briefly wonder to yourself what Steve and the others will think of this once they see it. Shrugging that thought off, you toss the magazine into your cart.

***

You actually find out pretty quickly what Steve and the others think about the cover later that evening when you receive a call from an unknown number.

“Hi, it’s Robin,” you hear from the other line as soon as you pick up.

“Hi Ro—”

“Robin Buckley, from the Downsides? I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at lunch the other day when my friend made a huge ass of himself and— ow, Steve that hurt, God.”

Sounds of some sort of physical struggle echo through the telephone line until you decide to interrupt.

“Hi Robin, of course I remember you and your ass of a friend, what can I do for the two of you? Also, how did you get my number?”

You’re more curious than bothered when you ask the latter question.

“Four.”

“Pardon?”

“Four. There are four of us. See, you asked what you could do for the two of us but it’s not just me and Steve. Nancy and Argyle are here too—” At this point, you hear a faint ‘hello’ and ‘what’s up’ from the background—"For the sake of full disclosure I felt that I should mention that. Jonathan is visiting his family in Lenora Hills, otherwise, I’m sure he’d be here too. Oh, and to answer your question I got your number from Murray.”

“Uh-huh.” 

You glance at your wristwatch; there’s a party in the Hills that you were planning on going to and you were going to have to leave soon if you didn’t want to be stuck in traffic all night.

As if she had read your mind, you hear some shuffling on the line before Nancy decidedly takes over the conversation with a much more serious tone.

“Hi, sorry to bother you this late but we wanted to ask if perhaps you had seen the latest issue of Subrosa? It seems like you and Steve are on the cover.”

Exhaling a laugh, you answer, “Yes, actually, saw it at the grocery store today, sorry you guys didn’t make the front page, I’m sure you’ll get them next time.”

“What? No, I mean, have you read the article? They’re printing lies about you both,” Nancy stutters out, indignantly.

“They’re saying that you and Steve had a private lunch and that he’s been seen sneaking out of the Hotel Mormont for weeks and that you might be pregnant? They’re even alluding to a fight breaking out between him and Jason Carver of all people.”

 This causes you to fully chortle.

“I wish, that guy deserves a few punches to the face. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, though, everything they say about me is a lie.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t they supposed to have some journalistic integrity? Don’t they get in trouble for printing lies like this? Have you tried to contact their editors about this?”

The confusion you feel about this conversation is outweighed by how weirdly touched you feel that these girls who had only met you once seem so offended on your behalf.

“No, I mean, it’s a gossip rag, not like The New York Times or anything,” you placate, “and after all the terrible things they’ve said about in the past, I’m kinda just glad they got a half-decent picture of me.  I appreciate you all calling about it though.”

And then, after a beat, you address the band’s lead singer, who has been oddly quiet throughout the whole exchange.

“I hope being pictured with me didn’t sully your reputation, Flirty Frontman.”

Really, you didn’t care if Steve was bothered by the whole thing, you just hoped that he wasn’t making his bandmates call you on his behalf. You didn’t know what to make of the guy quite yet. On one hand, he was completely sweet to you most of the lunch, he spent the meal asking you questions about yourself and refilling your drink without you having to ask. But the tantrum he had thrown reminded you a little too much of the dangerously self-absorbed musicians that had grown sick of these last few years.

“Me? No, I’m fine. Did you see how great my hair looked?”

You laugh silently at his answer. His hair did look great in the photo, but you were not about to give him the satisfaction of letting him hear that from you.

He continues, “Plus, they never really said anything terrible about me. They’re like, totally after you which is why Nance and Rob have been so worried, I guess. Are you good?”

His question comes out more hushed than everything else he’s said, and you are once again reminded of the earnest smiles you exchanged across the table a few days ago.

“I’m fine, Harrington, this is a regular Tuesday for me.”

With that, you bid goodbye to the band, citing your lateness, but not before expressing a very sincere thanks for their naïve concern.

The unexpected phone call makes you hit traffic, as you had predicted. You spend nearly an hour and a half in the back of a cab, the whole time, you can’t stop replaying the conversation you just had in your head.

Maybe there was more to the Downsides than met the eye?

***

This theory is proven, in part, after Hopper sends you a demo recording of some of their songs the following week.  

The Downsides, you quickly find out, are good, like very good. Their music is like nothing you’d ever heard before: experimental and fun but polished and very technically sound. Steve’s vocals are annoyingly impressive—his growly timbre grounding the lighter sound and keeping it from sounding too saccharine. You can see them dominating the charts and blowing The Letterman’s and every other one-trick band out of the water.

The track they wanted you to jump on was part of the demos Hopper had sent out. It was called “Feel It”, a romantic song, tinged with melancholy but paired with an upbeat synth sound.

You had been sent a copy of the lyrics that included a cue for you to come in.

You practiced your part for days, agonizing over how you wanted to deliver the lyrics, and eventually, you came up with exactly what you wanted to do after making some minor adjustments.

You were actually excited to record the song until you remembered that you would have to come face-to-face with the band’s two asshole guitarists again.

On the day of the recording, you tried your best to be early, but you had been up tossing all night which caused you to oversleep then you lost your keys, and you were moving at the time, so your things were all over the place. You also had to turn around and come back when you realized you had forgotten the gift basket of cookies you were planning on bringing for the band—something left over from a package Charles Riva's team sent you as an apology for him blowing you off. All in all, you were about thirty minutes late.

You pulled into the Starcourt parking lot a harried mess and as you rounded the corner into the studio, you could hear the booming voice of Eddie Munson.

“She’s probably stuck circling the parking lot trying to find some working-class sucker to park her car. Harrington, why don’t you go check out there? Maybe you’ll get papped again and get another 5 minutes of fame.”

You hear Steve respond and while you can’t make out the words, you can tell he’s annoyed, embarrassed, or possibly both.

You can see the faces of every other band member fall like dominos as they each caught sight of you rounding the corner to stand directly behind Eddie.

Eddie though doesn’t seem to pick up on what’s clearly written on all their faces and persists through his tirade, “She’s only coming for the photo opp anyway—she doesn’t care about any of this.”

It’s Argyle who finds his voice first, “Eddie, man, isn’t that her?”

Eddie whips around and with comically wide eyes, looks down at you, grimacing.

You consider telling the guy off but decide against it.

If there is one thing you have learned these years it’s that while the male artists can throw fits, yell, scream, and even damage equipment without anyone as much as blinking an eye, one emotional misstep from you and you would be branded a diva. They would say you were difficult, rude, and find any excuse to toss you aside like they had so many women before you and you refused to let them have that satisfaction.

So, instead, you smile at the band, eyes lingering on Eddie for just a moment longer than on anybody else, to let him know that you had heard him, and then say brightly, “Sorry I’m late everybody. I brought some cookies.”

***

EDDIE: Yeah, it was a dick thing to say, and I regretted it immediately and not just because she brought us cookies.

I wasn’t—that wasn’t me.

I was just so angry about everything that I had lost, and I didn’t know where to put it all and then she shows up: this rich, spoiled girl who just seemed to float through life without a single fucking care or struggle, and suddenly I had an easy target.

I felt bad about it until she changed my fucking lyrics.

***

Unlike their guitarists, most of the band seemed pleased to see you and you spent a few minutes greeting everyone and handing around cookies while Eddie and Steve kept their respective distances—Eddie, sulking in a corner and Steve doing a poor job at pretending to tune his guitar.

“Okay kids let’s give the voices some space to do their thing,” Hopper says waving them through the door sounding more like a disgruntled parent than a manager.

In the end, it’s just you, Steve, Murray, and the sound booth tech. The latter two are busy prepping the sound and mic, leaving you and Steve standing in the back.

“Hey, I wanted to apologize about what I said the other day at lunch,” he leans in close to your ear, his eyes transfixed on his shoes.

“I didn’t mean it—not really. I guess I was just lashing out because, well, they keep changing things about the band without even talking to us. First, they made us go pop, then they made me give up lead guitar to Eddie because his previous band didn’t want him anymore, and then it seemed like they wanted to replace me with you and like, it’s not that I wouldn’t want you it’s just that—well they never even asked what we wanted, you know? I was frustrated about that, and I took it out on you and I’m sorry about that.”

You watch him as he digs the toe of his sneaker into the carpet, eyes downcast, clearly waiting for you to respond. You’re too busy contemplating his words, however, because an apology was the last thing you were expecting from him, much less such a sincere one.

Out of all the difficult men you had dealt with in your life—producers, musicians, lawyers, managers, former flings, hell, even your own father—you had never received an apology from any of them regardless of how poorly they’d treated you.

Steve’s eyes finally trail up to meet yours, searching your face for signs that he didn’t say the wrong thing yet again.

Seeing no trace of dishonesty on Steve’s face, you decide to trust the apology for what it is and nod in acceptance.

“I get it,” you say, and truly, you did, “I’ve had most of my career decisions made for me, and a lot of times, they weren’t really what I wanted. It makes the whole thing feel kind of…empty, doesn’t it?”

His face floods with relief as he nods along in understanding.

“Yeah, like does success matter if we can’t do things our way? Me and Rob, we’ve been best friends since we were little and this has always been our dream and now that it may be coming true, it doesn’t feel like we imagined. I guess that’s kinda stupid though, expecting things to be like you imagined them as a kid,” he laughs at himself nervously.

“No, it’s not,” you counter, “that’s not stupid at all.”

You understand Steve’s disillusionment completely because it mirrors your own.

“Listen, I get how you feel, trust me, but you got to keep going. You guys are good, and I think you could all be big one day and then it’ll be you who’s calling the shots and then you can kick me and Eddie to the curb,” you clearly say the last part in jest but that doesn’t stop the shame that rolls across Steve’s face.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re really talented and we’re lucky that you’re doing us this favor. We’d be even luckier if we could get you to stick around. Munson I could give or take, though.”

His joke makes you laugh so loud that Murray turns around and glares.

***

Steve was sent into the booth first to record his final vocals for the song, leaving you to observe.

As they set Steve up, your eyes kept bouncing over to the newly appeared Eddie, trying to figure out what exactly he was doing there.

“I wrote the song,” Eddie explains, after catching your eye.

“Oh,” you say, not bothering enough to hide your surprise, “well, congratulations, it’s a good song.”

You catch him eyeing the plate of cookies at your side. You open your mouth to offer him a cookie, but the echo of his words rings fresh in your mind, so instead, you reach for one and make a big show of savoring it.

Steve records his part of the vocals in five takes. He appears a bit nervous at first but eases into his groove rather quickly.

As the audio engineer is setting up the booth for you, you feel your own nerves rise. You wanted this to go well. You wanted to impress Steve and Hopper and even Eddie.

They signal you into the booth and the first two times, you record the song exactly how it’s written. Then, on the third one, you switch up the final chorus.

The original lyrics were: Fear in your heart, can’t conceal it/ But baby, my loves your cure, can’t you feel it? / Lay your hope bare next to mine/ and even if the world caves in, we’ll be fine

You changed the lyrics to: Fear in your heart, can’t conceal it/ But baby, my loves your cure, can’t you feel it? / Lay your flaws bare next to mine/ because when the world caves in, I’ll leave you cryin’

The change was slight, you thought, but meaningful.

The original version—Eddie’s version—was too hopeful. It was a boring portrayal of lovers staying with each other through thick and thin.

Your change added some conflict and dimension to the narrative. You made it better.

“What the hell was that?” Eddie pushed past Murray to yell into the mic that fed into the booth.

You roll your eyes at him dramatically interrupting your take, “I was just trying something out.”

Hopper pulled Eddie back by the shoulder while Murray wrestled the mic from him.

“Woah, sweetheart, pump the breaks. That was good. Better than the original. Can we run that one more time but with your lyrics instead? Harrington, we’ll re-record some of your parts too.”

Hopper has to all but carry Eddie out the door after he hears that.

***

EDDIE: The thing that pissed me off the most was that her version of the song was better. I just didn’t want to admit it because I wrote that song about Chrissy, about how even though I was so scared I was going to fuck up our relationship, she understood that and was willing to work through that with me. Her version was much closer to what actually happened and that hit a little too close to home.

***

“Woah, what did you two do to Eddie?” Robin demands as soon as you and Steve are dismissed into the hallway. “Hopper pretty much had to drag him out in tears!”

You worry at your bottom lip, caught in the wondering eyes of the group. At the time, you felt like you were doing the right thing, but now you wonder if you had forgone the common courtesy of at least letting him know you had changed the song. You didn’t want to come across as unprofessional as he accused you of being.

“I should probably go talk to him,” you say in response.

“Geez, Robin. Was the third degree really necessary there? This is just like last week’s DMV visit all over again,” Steve chastises as they all watch you walk away.

***

You find Eddie in the smoking area, cigarette in hand. “Hey, listen can we talk—"

Eddie turns dangerously to face you, cutting you off.

“You know what your fucking problem is? No one’s ever said no to you so you think you can do whatever the hell you want and that everyone else just rolls over and gives it to you because you’re so pretty and charming and rich.

“Well, you may have the rest of those assholes fooled but I see right through you, okay?”

Your eyes narrowed in response before you snap back.

"First of all, you don't know anything about me, so stop pretending that you do. I have worked hard to be here, just like the rest of you, and as far as this song goes, my name is going to be attached to it too, so I have just as much of a right to give input as you or Steve. It was wrong that I didn't say anything to you beforehand, sure, and I apologize for that, but let's not pretend that you've been the epitome of professionalism here either because you've been an ass to me since we've met, and I don't know why but I won't stand for it again. Fuck you, Eddie Munson,” you spit out before turning on your heel and stomping away.

***

EDDIE: That was hot, not gonna lie.

***

“Are you really going to let some mangy metalhead from Bumfuck, Nowhere keep you from finally doing what you want?” Murray asks exasperatedly when you call him to complain about the exchange later that night.

“Listen, I’ve recorded a lot of songs in that studio, some of them great, most of them mediocre, but today blew all of them out of the water. The band’s never sounded better and neither have you, frankly. If you gave up the chance to finally write your own songs and sound this good while doing it, that would be flat-out idiotic. You know that, right?”

The line goes still.

“Yes,” you finally say.

“Great, now that that’s settled, why don’t you get some rest, huh? Ruining Muson’s day must have tired you right out.”

You exhale a laugh before saying goodbye.

Although you would never say it to his face, you were grateful for Murray. It was nice having someone looking out for you.

***

MURRAY:  Brenner loved the track. After that, we had a very short time to make a lot of big things happen. The Downside’s debut album was already 70% recorded, but now that we had a whole other person on vocals, we had to scrap a good portion of the work they had already done and rerecord with our new vocalist. We couldn’t even celebrate our victory because we were just getting started.

Those poor kids had no clue what was coming.

***

When your phone rings a few mornings later, you suspect it’s Murray again with an update on the song, and while you’re right about the message, you’re wrong about the messenger. 

“Hi, it’s Steve, uh, Harrington. Obviously,” you hear a familiar voice crackle over the line.

“Oh? And to what do I owe the honor Mr. Obviously?” you respond.

“Oh, very funny. Listen, I wanted to call and let you know that we just heard from Hopper that Brenner and his guys liked our song, and they want us to continue, you know… recording together and stuff. So, yeah, would that be something you’re interested in… being a part of, you know, the band?” his voice wavers a bit as he asks.

“Is that even a choice?” you fire back, “I was under the impression that once Brenner gave the go-ahead, it was pretty much a done deal.”

He clears his throat in response, “I think you deserve to have a choice. I talked to the rest of the band, and they agree and if you don’t want in, we’ll back you… even if that means breaking our Starcourt contract.”

The line goes silent as you contemplate the gravity of what Steve has just said. The Downsides would be willing to put their own career at risk just to assure you the luxury of choice.

The answer was easy after that.

“I’m in,” you say after a few moments of terse silence. “I want to be a part of the band.”

You can all but see Steve pumping his fist on the other side of the line.

“That’s great! That’s great news. I’m glad my asshole tendencies didn’t put you off,” he laughs, relieved.

“I mean, it was a tough sell,” you tease back, “but I think we can be good together. The band, I mean.”

You wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing when his joyous peals of laughter stop suddenly at your words.

“Actually, um, about that,” he begins, once again nervously, “I’m really grateful that you’re giving us—the band—a chance and that you were nice enough to record the single with us in the first place. And, I mean, I know I’m already pushing my luck with the universe and you but maybe—uh, maybe today it’s my turn to be the luckiest guy in the world? Who knows?”

You have absolutely no clue what he’s getting at, and you let him know as much.

“Right, hm, I was wondering if I could take you out, on a date, to celebrate us becoming a band but also like, you know, a date. I know I made a total ass of myself, but I really like you, and I think you're gorgeous and talented and smart. I know I may not deserve another shot, but I would love it if you gave me one.”

You’re at a loss for words. First, you’re not even sure if you want to trust Steve fully, not quite yet. Sure, he apologized, but a part of you wonders if he only did it to get on your good side once he had seen how your pre-established infamy could serve him after that Subrosa article ran. Murray mentioned how radio runtime for the few EP songs The Downsides had in the rotation tripled since the publication. It definitely wouldn’t have been the first time you were being used like this.

Even if you could find it in yourself to look past that (and who knows, maybe you could?) there was still the matter of what Murray and Hopper had so delicately mentioned that day at lunch.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I don’t think that would be very professional. Especially on account of our…  front-facing, romantic narrative.”

“Our what?”

***

MURRAY: I thought that Hopper had gotten his team on the same page about the more personal aspects of the band’s arrangement, but apparently, I was wrong. None of them had any clue what was going on and the thing about running a ruse is that people that are in on it kind of have to know that they’re in on it.

A few days before we began re-recording, the girl called me all in a tizzy because she accidentally spilled the beans, not knowing that Harrington had no clue at all about the plan.

I then call Hopper; it turns into this whole thing. We had to arrange an emergency meeting with the two of them and the entire legal team.

A bit slow on the uptake, that Harrington kid, but he got there. Eventually.

He was harder to convince than the girl, though. At least she didn’t have a problem with lying to the public. But Harrington was all about that Midwestern “integrity” and “letting the music speak for itself”. Hop eventually had to spell it out real simple for him: either they do this, or the entire band was cooked.

STEVE: I guess after like 15 years the ruse is finally up, huh? Yeah, the relationship was fake. Or, at least, it started out that way. Listen, it was complicated and we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

But, if you’re asking about what I was thinking when they finally told me their plan, well, I wasn’t happy or on board at all. It felt like we had already given up so much of ourselves for this—like, where do you draw the line, you know?

But then Hopper reminded me that it wasn’t all about me: Nancy had dropped out of college to be in the band, Jonathan…he had his sick little brother to take care of, and even Munson was going to be in trouble if he didn’t fulfill his contract with Starcourt.

It was selfish to say no, in my opinion. And really, what was I losing? I got to make music for a living and parade around, pretending to date a total hottie while doing it. I mean, the only way it could’ve gotten better was if the relationship had been real.

***

After what feels like days—but is most likely hours—with the Starcourt legal team, you and Steve are finally released with a very long grocery list of instructions that include a minimum number of required public appearances; a very specific list of acceptable PDA; and interestingly, enough, a sample NDA in case either of you wanted to “be involved” with anyone on the side.

“Nothing says romance like NDA, right?” you weakly joke in an attempt to break the ice.

“How are you so okay with this?” Steve shoots back, seemingly stunned.

“Well, it’s not like this is my first rodeo, or my fourth, or my sixth.”

And before he can question further, you tell him everything, starting with Jason fucking Carver.

***

STEVE: I couldn’t believe it. They had been forcing her to pretend to be involved with all these guys for years. It was super fucked up, but she stuck with it. That’s how much she wanted it. How could I possibly let her down after that? Especially with my own selfish, dumb feelings? She was right, we needed to keep it professional, no matter how hard that was going to be for me.

***

JONATHAN:  Jonathan Byers, bassist and guitarist for the Downsides. never wanted to be famous, I just wanted to play music and make enough money to support my family. I could do all of that and more with The Downsides.

I felt like the luckiest guy in the world then. We were finally starting to see some stability as a band and even though things weren’t exactly as we expected, things were good. I mean we were making music we loved with people we liked—back when we all still liked each other.

***

October 1983—Los Angeles, California

As the studio had predicted, the band’s single was a total hit, as were you and Steve in the press. The gamble Starcourt was starting to pay off.

Everyone was more relieved than happy about that news.

What followed was a few grueling weeks of rerecording the band’s nearly completed album while also strategically traipsing arm-in-arm with Steve around every romantic spot in Hollywood trying to bait the paparazzi.

Things had finally slowed down a bit since the album was in post-production, but Starcourt still had you on a tight schedule. You had transitioned into rehearsing for the band’s upcoming tour. That’s how certain Startcourt was that the Downsides were going to be a success—you were rehearsing for a tour that hadn’t even been announced yet for an album that hadn’t even been released.

You try not to think about what it would mean if the band didn’t meet the label’s expectations. Instead, you focus on figuring out how to adapt to the band you’re now a part of.

The obvious lack of familiarity between all of you was not as pronounced when you were re-recording in the studio, now that you’re all rehearsing together, it is impossible to ignore. The original members of the band share a bond that keeps them incredibly in sync, oftentimes leaving you and Eddie struggling both on and off the stage. You’ve been working to adapt though, and you’ve made progress, sometimes you’re even close to feeling like the band has accepted you as one of their own. But then something will happen that will leave you feeling like an outsider once more.

***

The last thing a hungover you needs to see at seven in the morning is a Subrosa article questioning your moral character and calling you a man-eater. The universe—in the form of one Nancy Wheeler—has a different idea.

“Have you seen this?” the keyboardist asks, indignation coloring her tone, as she slings the offending publication across your lap.

You hadn’t seen it, in fact, but one look at the grainy picture of you and Steve and you can assume what the article says.

You sigh tiredly in response, “Honestly Nancy, you shouldn’t pay attention to this shit. I don’t know why you let it bother you so much.”

“It’s just so unfair that they’re singing Steve’s praises and are still dragging you through the mud, even though you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Exactly, there’s no winning with them, not for me. So why don’t we just say fuck them and do whatever we want?” You find it in yourself to waggle your eyebrows playfully at her earning a giggle from the otherwise serious girl.

You catch Eddie watching your exchange from across the large warehouse that is serving as the band’s rehearsal space with a curious amount of interest.

The two of you have barely spoken since your row outside of Starcourt. It’s not like you’re missing out on much though, since Eddie barely interacts with the band beyond rehearsal which makes his apparent engagement with your conversation unusual. Eddie, realizing he’s been caught staring, opens his mouth to say something but is quickly interrupted by a very late Steve and Robin.

“Hey, have you seen the latest issue of Subrosa?” Steve asks, harried and out of breath.

You try not to think about the fact that this is the third time this week that the two of them have shown up together and late.

“Yes, we were just talking about it, which you would’ve known if the two of you were on time for once,” Nancy jabs back with no real heat, just the annoyance of an older sister chastising her siblings.

“Hey, don’t blame me, Robin wanted to—” he stops short as soon as his eyes land on you and coughs awkwardly.

“I wanted to stop by the post office,” Robin rushes to say. “It’s Bastille Day and I needed to send a card to my French pen pal, Celine in honor of the occasion.”

“Isn’t Bastille Day in July?” You ask Robin.

She flushes scarlet. “Right, exactly, that’s why this is so important, my card was already like three months late. You know how French people are about punctuality.”

She then exchanges a meaningful glance with Steve and Nancy who seem to be having their own sort of conversation consisting solely of glances and eyebrow movement.

“Fine, whatever,” Nancy exhales after a few terse moments of silent communication, “let’s just start please.”

She stands and the others follow suit. You, however, remain sat, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.

Steve, sensing you hadn’t moved, turns to throw you an apologetic look over his shoulder before beaconing gently with a nod of his head. You sigh but join him, nonetheless.

This happens a lot.

***

JONATHAN: When the whole staged relationship thing first started, I don’t think any of us had any idea what that meant.  I mean, sure, it started out as the gimmick that got us through the door but it soon became something bigger than that. Their relationship was synonymous with the band and it's success and I'm sure that resulted in a lot of pressure. 

I think for the two of them, though, the most difficult part was trying to keep things professional, especially when other people began to get involved.

***

None of the personal dynamics mattered when you were all playing together.

What you loved most about your bandmates was that they cared about the music just as much as you did. That had become clear from the very first rehearsal and even now, nearly a month in, you’re still in awe watching them all perform alongside you.

 Prim, soft-spoken Nancy turned into a wild thing on the keyboard, her whole body moving with the music, fingers flying over the keys like it was nothing. Ever the perfectionist, she would never miss a note, and on the off chance that she did, curse words you had never heard before streamed out of her mouth, causing your eyes to go wide every time.

Jonathan, too, became something else: full of bravado and fire, hair swinging wildly and even jumping around on stage. His playing had a smoothness to it, he knew when to show restraint and let someone else shine and when to bring it himself.

Argyle and Robin were the biggest transformations, though. Gone was goofy and easy-going Argyle the person and all that was left behind was the laser-focused drummer, who seemed to move on instinct to create a strong musical foundation for the rest of you. Robin, who normally was a bit erratic and all over the place, became the self-assured, quick-thinking driving force behind the band. It was like she knew exactly how the song needed to sound and what each person needed to bring to get there. She was the first to let anyone know there was something amiss and no one took it the wrong way because she was rarely wrong.

Steve and Eddie were exactly what you had expected, however, what you did not expect was how alike they would be. They both moved gracefully and with careless precision. Showmen in equal measures.

Once you had familiarized yourself with your bandmates, figuring out how you fit into the band’s onstage dynamic was easy.

Off-stage was a whole different story.

***

JONATHAN: I mean, yeah, I think it was natural that there was a bit of a divide in those early days between the ‘original’ band and our two new members. It’s not for lack of trying though, it’s just, well the five of us lived in a house together and had known each other for years, it was probably kinda intimidating trying to jump into that dynamic. I also got the feeling that the other two weren’t really used to having friends. They both seemed to have their guards up in their own way.

With her you could tell she was holding back, almost like she was afraid of doing the wrong thing and well, with Eddie… you know how he is.

I think it was that feeling of sort of being on the outside that first drew them together, honestly.

***

Your eyes scan over the small craft services area that makes up part of your rehearsal space. Most of the band starts at one table, chatting amiably over lunch. Before you can even take a step in their direction, though, your eyes zero in on Steve and Robin, whose heads are bent, close together, whispering to one another intimately and you falter.

As much as you enjoyed Robin and Steve individually, watching them interact with one another often stoked an aching loneliness in you that you struggled to put out and the more time you spent with them only made it worse. After six weeks, you were worn thin.

Deciding that you’d rather not foster any unearned feelings, you turn to the only other table where Eddie is sitting alone bent over a thick paperback.

Trying to play it as cool as you can, you reach inside your bag to pull out your own book, and casually sit down across from the long-haired boy.

He stares you down. You raise an eyebrow in response.

“Didn’t know you could read,” he says casually.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you,” you shoot back with no real bite.

He chuckles to himself, seemingly impressed before gesturing to your book. 

“Didn’t peg you for a Baldwin type either,” Eddie says, eyes scanning the cover of your book.

You shrug, noncommittally, “I found a copy Beal Street sitting with a bunch of junk on my neighbor’s curb and I’ve been a fan since.”

He barks out a laugh so loud it catches everyone’s attention.

Conversation halts and you feel your bandmates’ curious gazes fall on you all at once.

“Forgive me, princess, but I have a hard time imagining you digging through other people's trash for books from what I know of you.”

“And what do you know about me, Eddie? I mean, other than the stuff Subrosa prints.”

His face falls in response.

The two of you spend the rest of your lunch in silence, pretending not to notice the way everyone else is staring.

***

JONATHAN: They ate lunch together every day after that, barely talking, reading their books.  I don’t think they were friends or anything, but I did see them exchange books a few times.

It did stress Nancy out, I think, the divide. It made her think we weren’t doing enough to be “welcoming” to them. Argyle and I didn’t really care, and Robin was dealing with her on shit at the time.

***

ROBIN : Yeah, I was seeing this girl, and I was trying to keep it under wraps from well… everyone actually. Steve was a really great friend though; he would always give me rides to and from her place when I needed them.

***

JONATHAN: ...a nd Steve liked to pretend that he didn’t care but he definitely did.

ROBIN: Of course, Steve cared, are you kidding?

NANCY: We could tell it bothered him.

STEVE : Did I care that she was eating lunch with Munson and kept avoiding me outside of rehearsal? No! Of course not.

***

November 1983, Los Angeles, California

The Downsides’ debut album was released on November 6, 1983, to commercial and critical success.

People immediately took to the upbeat synth sound paired with the introspective and clever lyrics. On top of that, you and Steve were, quite literally the talk of the town.

There were entire articles in gossip magazines dedicated to parsing out details of your relationship from the song lyrics on the album and coming up with theories about what the lyrics were about.

And all of that just from a few pictures of you two holding hands. Starcourt was ecstatic, they had bottled magic.

As much as everyone wanted to celebrate, you weren’t out of the woods yet, there were still the press junkets.

A growing list of TV and radio appearances that the band was required to be at plagued Hopper who was tasked with making sure you were all present and willing at these appearances. And of course, that you didn’t make fools of yourselves or Starcourt.

The label had taken it upon itself to send everyone PR briefings—essentially a long list of things no one should say under any circumstances during interviews.

Normally, you would think a list like this was overkill but knowing some of your bandmates, it was definitely needed.

All the eyes (and the pressure) would be on you and Steve, though, everyone knew that. You two were the ‘It Couple’ everyone wanted to hear from, and you weren’t quite sure what you were going to say.

The pap photos were easy: it was just walking around or sometimes getting lunch, holding hands, and looking like you were enjoying each other’s company. Something that wasn’t difficult since conversation flowed easily between the two of you.  At first, you would talk music—Steve was incredibly dedicated and knowledgeable, you quickly found out—but eventually, the two of you had branched into other topics. You learned about Steve’s life growing up in Indiana, about all his likes and dislikes, and everything about the band. He managed to pull the same information from you and you let him.

Even the physical stuff was easy, with time. In the beginning, it was an experiment of firsts. While you were pretty well-versed in the practice of feigned affection, you were used to the guy always making the first (fake) move. Most of the guys you had been "set up" with were the "act first, ask permission later" type. Steve was polite and considerate to a fault, and it took you two full dates to convince him that he didn't have to ask before holding your hand and an entire week more to work up to the kiss on the cheek. After those conversations though, touching Steve, in one way or another, had become second nature.

So much so, in fact, that it had begun to bleed into your everyday lives. It was not unusual during the time of your re-recording, to be at the studio and have Steve come up from behind you to rest his hand in the gentle dip of your waist only for you to lean back as you inhaled that scent that was uniquely him: smokey sandalwood and hair pomade.

Right around the time rehearsal started you realized that perhaps the two of you were becoming too comfortable with that type of affection, especially given how much time he spent with Robin, and you had begun to keep a subtle distance between the two of you whenever you weren’t on stage.

Steve while intelligent in his own right, had never struck you as the kind of person to pick up on subtleties, so when he brings up this distance you realize that either you severely underestimated his abilities, or you were not as subtle as you thought you’d been.

It’s a few days before the first stop of the Press Tour—An early morning slot with Wake Up, USA! —that has the two of you sitting on your couch when he brings it up. You had invited Steve over to practice answering any possible questions you may have to field together and make sure you’re on the same page.

As it turns out though, outside of music, Steve is not much for rehearsing.

“Can’t we just wing it?” Steve asks as he lies sprawled on your couch.

You huff in response, “No, we can’t just wing it. This is a big deal! This is our first time out as a couple, and we have to be believable.”

Steve scoffs at this and you raise an annoyed eyebrow in response.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs in response, “it’s just hard to act like a couple when you’ve been avoiding me for, like, the past month.”

He doesn’t sound accusatory or angry when he says this, just matter-of-fact. 

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you sputter out, weakly.

It’s his turn to raise an incredulous eyebrow at you.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Last time I checked you and Eddie weren’t the best of friends, but you’d rather eat lunch with him than the rest of us. You know, if you didn’t like us, you didn’t have to agree to be in the band, we would’ve understood,” he deflates as he says this last sentence and it crumples your heart just a bit.

 “I like you guys,” you say quietly, nudging his leg with your knee as you do.

“Then, is it me?” He asks, voice small and eyes low.

“No, no, it’s not you, Steve,” you rush to say.

“It’s just, I’ve never really been any good at this,” you mumble, shy under his gaze.

“Good at what?” He urges gently.

“At being friends with people.”

You continue, words clunky and difficult to get out, “At being friends with someone I’m also pretending to date.

“I mean, with the rest of the guys Starcourt set me up with, I only had to tolerate them for a few weeks, at most. With us, well who knows right? Plus, I actually like you,” you wince at this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability from yourself, “I like all of you and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers or cross any boundaries and hurt anyone’s feelings.”

He chuckles at this, “Trust me, you won’t hurt my feelings by spending time with me.”

You shake your head, “It’s not you I’m worried about, Steve. There are other people.”

Steve’s brow furrows in confusion, “I’m not following.”

You are not sure what to say, now. You don’t want to call Steve and Robin out, it’s clear that they’ve been trying to keep what they have going on a secret, and you don’t want to call attention to that. You’re also afraid that if you mention him and Robin, you’ll eventually have to explain how when you see them together, your chest gets painfully tight. Pivot, you demand of yourself.

“What I mean to say is, it’s easier for me to keep everything professional when I have a little more space because I’m not really used to this friend thing. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t like you or the band. I like you all a lot, actually and I guess I’m just worried about messing that up.”

You can feel yourself retract into yourself the more you speak and by the end, your knees are tucked under your chin. You can’t bring yourself to meet Steve’s gaze.

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel the warmth of his palm spread over the expanse of your back.

“Listen, I think… if this is gonna work, we have to be on each other’s team and part of that is talking to one another, right?  And letting each other know when we're having a hard time. I want to be on your team, will you let me?” His voice swells as he asks, and you are so aware of his warmth next to you.

“Yeah,” you nod, finally meeting his eyes, “ I want to be on your team too if you’ll let me?”

He nods enthusiastically, smiling so brightly you question if the sun has ever been as bright.

“Great, now can we please practice some of these questions?” You demand, playfully. 

“Or, or, and hear me out, we could go get burgers," he offers back.

You end up doing both.

***

November 13, 1983, Sunset Studios, Los Angeles, California

Call time for Wake Up, USA! was insanely early and you don’t think you’ve ever seen an angrier Hopper than one that has to be dealing with Eddie Munson at 5 AM. Eddie is decidedly, not a morning person.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?” You deadpan to the disgruntled guitarist from your makeup chair next to his. You were not fairing much better: not only were you running on little sleep, but you were also wound tightly with nerves about your first live interview as a band and as a couple.

“Can it, Your Majesty, or we might have a case of regicide on our hands,” he warns with no real heat behind his words.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be throwing big words like that around, Munson?” Steve asks, from his spot on your other side.

“Don’t even know what that means,” he mutters, mostly to you.

“It means the murder of a king or queen,” you respond automatically.

“Doesn’t have to be just one, either. You could always kill more than one monarch at a time,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Steve as he says this, making his implications very obvious.

“Wow, look at us,” Steve exclaims, grinning, “already making veiled threats at each other. We’ve finally made it, honey.”

He says this last part exclusively to you punctuating it by reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze and you laugh.

The lightness of the exchange distracts you from your nerves for a moment. And from the way Eddie’s eyes linger on your hand interlaced with Steve’s.

Your brief reprieve is interrupted by the soft thud of a heavy object landing in your lap.

“What’s this?” You hold up a beat-up paperback to the culprit.

Eddie shrugs, “The Two Towers, Dustin finally got it back to me, took his sweet time too, that little asshole.”

You nod. He had lent you the first Lord of the Rings book weeks ago, while you were still in rehearsal after you had shown up bookless one day and you had devoured the book. You had been needling him for the second one since, but he had lent it to the audio engineer’s son, a kid named Dustin who idolized him and Steve in equal measure.

“Thanks,” you say, surprise coloring your voice, thumbing through the pages, eyes hungrily scanning the pages.

***

EDDIE:  I dunno, she seemed nervous.  I thought if she had something to distract her, it might’ve helped.

***

You get through the first chapter of your new book before they pull you into wardrobe.

They outfit you in a light blue dress, with exaggerated sleeves and a belt around your middle to compliment Steve’s dark blue blazer and stripped t-shirt combo.

 You feel your nerves mounting as you are helped into your heels and given your mic pack. Suddenly, everything that is riding on this is suffocating you from all ends—a visceral crushing pain that you can’t shake.

Steve appears at your side and the band had been escorted onto the soundstage your hand has been tightly wrapped around his like a vice the entire time.

“Can you, uh, loosen your grip a bit, please,” Steve asks, finally.

“Right, sorry,” you say, letting go of his hand completely and instead focusing your nervous energy on straightening his lapels.

After the third time you’ve readjusted his collar, Steve grabs both of your hands in his, and pulls you close, giving you no choice but to focus on his face.

“Hey,” he says in a hushed tone, just for you, “you don’t need to worry, okay? We’ve got this. I’m on your team, remember?”

You swallow thickly, and nod, before adding, “And I’m on yours, Harrington.”

“That’s my girl,” he says sealing the exchange with a kiss on the cheek.

***

JONATHAN: That first interview, on Wake Up, USA! was what really sold them. I mean, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other the entire time.

And then, when one of the hosts asked them how they met, Steve told this story about seeing her for the first time from across the restaurant during our first lunch together and how he was sure he had made a total fool of himself because he was so nervous to be around someone so beautiful, of course, Steve Harrington would say something like that. The audience swooned. Hell, I swooned a little bit.

And then they asked her about all the guys from her past, which was totally fucked up by the way, but she handled it great. She said she was grateful for all the mistakes she had made in the past because they had led her to The Downsides and to Steve.

Between that interview and our live performance, the audience was hooked. 

***

“Good job, you two,” Hopper says gruffly, patting you and Steve on the shoulder as you're ushered off stage after your performance.

“Thanks,” you squeak out, all the tension slowly deflating from your body after hearing Hopper’s approval.

It was done, your first live appearance complete, and it hadn’t been a total train wreck.

Actually, thinking back, it had been pretty good. There was a good variety of questions; everyone had gotten to speak; and when it came to you and Steve, well, it seemed believable at least. And the band managed to preform the new single without a hitch, all of the kinks that had plagued you during the last few weeks of rehearsals ironed out. 

Maybe you could pull this off after all.

***

By the time the band had wrapped up the week-long press junket, you were exhausted.

What had taken more of a toll than the hours of sitting in makeup chairs, too-tight shoes and repetitive questions was having to pretend with Steve.

You realize now that your problem was never the risk of not being convincing enough, but instead of being too convincing.

You had spent the entire week so physically attached to Steve, that it was beginning to feel like you were one single being. Like he was an appendage you couldn’t move without.

And every kiss on the cheek, every look, every squeeze of your hand, felt like a jumpstart to your heart.

Then there were actual interview parts. Steve was good with the press. He would draw audiences and hosts alike, in as easy as if he was winding up a thread. There was never a question that would catch him off guard and he always came off boyish and genuine in his responses. Like the time he was asked what his favorite thing about you was and he told the story of you showing up at the recording studio with cookies and having the guts to change Eddie’s lyrics in the same afternoon.

You knew better than to ask if he meant it. 

The next day, Hopper called to let you know that your album was breaking all sorts of records, and the label was incredibly pleased. So much so that they were thinking of increasing the tour dates and they were even starting to plan for future projects—projects that they wanted you to write.

The news didn’t make you feel light with joy like you had once hoped it would, instead, it made you feel heavy like a sinking stone.

A few weeks later, when the band went their separate ways for the Christmas break, you all knew something big was coming, you just had no way of knowing what.

***

JONATHAN: Right after New Year, Hopper pulls the band into a meeting in his office. First thing he told us was that they were announcing a tour with twice as many dates as they had originally planned for, demand was that high. Then he said, “From this point on, everything is going to move really quickly, there’s no getting off the ride now.”

Subrosa Article

PLAY NEXT TRACK 🥁

[dropintomanga]

AI Can't Be the Whole Solution for Manga

So this week I found out out a Japanese start-up called Orange, who wants to be the Netflix of manga by translating a lot of manga with new apps and tools for the world to fight against online piracy. And to do so, the company will use AI to machine translate all of their manga into English. They also received $20 million USD in funding (one of their investors is Shogakukan) for their goal. This company wants to release up to 500 titles a month at some point.

I honestly don't know how to feel about this.

I read a more in-depth report from Deb Aoki of ComicsBeat and Mangasplaining about this whole startup. There's a lot of tout given by Orange about how this will help the manga industry overseas. Terms like deep learning, accessible content, influencers, reducing cost of localization, etc. are thrown around. Orange already has done some work for Shueisha for some of its MangaPlus titles. While it's apparent that the North American market only gets a small fraction of the manga published in Japan, there's concerns over whether this endeavor will end well.

A good number of manga translators and editors in the North American localization scene have commented on how bad this can be. AI machine translation is far from perfect. While DeepL (a Japanese language translation app similar to Google Translate) is arguably better than Google Translate, there's still errors abound. AI machine translation doesn't seem to be at a stage where you can just show it off to the world and have it translate something like a research paper with context. And even if the translation was good, there still needs to be people to fix errors AI will miss and the jobs to fix those errors don't necessarily pay well since they're the equivalent of "data entry" jobs.

And speaking as someone who reads up on mental health news, AI is not good for picking up nuances and differences that can help people for the better. It's only good for standardizing universal treatments. AI can not be open to the vulnerabilities of other people. One recent story I read last year was about a eating disorder helpline that created a chatbot to help those with eating disorders and how it bombed. There were complaints about how the bot didn't address patients' concerns that they were feeling down or bad about their bodies. Even worse, the chatbot gave some horrible advice by telling people to follow behaviors that led to their eating disorders in the first place. The support staff was fired in favor of the chatbot and while the chatbot was taken down after the complaints, it still left a bad taste in my mouth because mental health problems can never be solved without the human element.

I see this with what's apparently going to happen with manga. I don't see this creating a better world for manga readers. I'm well aware that there are a few professional manga translators in the scene who aren't doing a good job, but I feel they're doing fine for the most part. There's a glaring issue though that most people aren't thinking about - the amount of content we have out there.

We're in a golden age of having so much catered to us that it's ridiculous. Anime, manga, webtoons, video games, board games, music, etc. There's a lot out there. And to have a Japanese startup proclaim that they want to put out up to 500 titles a month, who realistically has the time to read all of them? I wonder if that's the point of these ventures - beat down consumers with so much material to consume that they become apathetic to what's going on behind the scenes.

I do want people to read manga, but I don't want them to become so overwhelmed to the point of burnout and numbness. That's the last thing any manga fan should want. I'm already hearing complaints from my fellow manga peers about the amount of manga we're getting here. It's nice to see bookshelves and libraries filled with manga, but which titles are really being read?

I also think there seems to be no universal standard that EVERYONE can agree with regards to localization. You have the professional side that knows a lot due to being inside the industry, but can be hindered by the Japanese publishing side and pestered by fans who think they know better. And you have the fan side that thinks they know everything because of scanlations and miscellaneous fan translations.

If you're a professional, it's a rough job and I applaud all manga freelancers who do it. Sometimes, I may not agree with the localization choices. But I'm not going to raise a pitchfork and treat them like they're witches. I know a few of those folks in-person and see the human in them.

If you're a fan, you can't expect a very casual reader to understand Japanese terms being spoken out right off the bat. It takes a while to get used to those terms. I'll use myself as an example as a riichi mahjong player. I throw out terms like suji, kabe, mentanpin, ryanmen, etc. to my fellow players. However, if there's an absolute beginner I'm talking to, they will have no idea what the hell I'm talking about.

I know some fans are like "Whatever, understanding those terms make me stand out. Yeah, I'm different! Screw the normal world!" But that makes it sound like gatekeeping to a certain degree. It's fine to have that kind of knowledge, but binding it to the very fabric of your identity is not healthy when circumstances change.

Orange seems to want a universal standard for manga translation by incorporating a variety of people into their process, but the fact that people will only be involved AFTER the translation makes me skeptical and the company is being called out for some things on their website. Both professionals and consumers will be screwed here. AI is being pushed so hard by corporations because it can readily applied to real life jobs and regular people in many ways, compared to cryptocurrency/NFTs, which applies only to people with a crap ton of money to spend. I've seen instances of AI usage at the company I work at - some of it good, some of it bad.

But nothing will beat the will and heart of the people. I think that's what scares AI-promoting people. Turning us into total mindless consumers prevents us from being mindful people that want to do right by others. Sure, reading manga makes me happy. But I don't want to be the only one who's happy. I also want people to make informed choices about what to consume.

I also want some people to stop assuming that Japan is the most "anti-woke" country alive out of their rage against localization because it's totally not. Japan has problems and there's people living there speaking out against them. They're "woke" in their own way. I swear that almost everyone who thinks Japan is better than the West hasn't lived there at all and are basing things from a very filtered point of view. I actually feel sorry for them because their lives are just so focused on consuming without thinking for themselves - a perfect market for the AI-pushing crowd.

I'll finish by saying that this AI-powered manga translation venture needs to happen with the right kind of people already on the table through the whole process and where everyone benefits. Everything bad with AI, as far as I've seen, has left people behind with no compassion or empathy. Manga has taught the wonders of compassion and empathy for all and I don't see the Japanese business side of things preaching what their works speak.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 824: Shellac At Action Park

I'm still wrapping my head around the news that Steve Albini is no longer with us.

I first heard Big Black on a mixtape my friend made me back in 1992. The song was "Jordan Minnesota." It was mean and ferocious and sounded like nothing else I'd heard before. I went out and bought the Hammer Party CD that compiled their earliest EPs soon after. It was a tough listen, but as was so often the case in those pre-internet / teenage years of the early '90s, if you plunked down your allowance money on a CD of "difficult" music, you didn't give up on it after a cursory listen. I stuck with it until those "difficult" songs eventually became anthems of teenage alienation.

There was another interesting angle to the Hammer Party CD: there were extensive liner notes that outlined the band's operating strategy. They were a DIY band uninterested in the music business. They were principled. They were nerdy, unassuming looking people. But the music they made was scarier than any metal band.

Big Black songs were almost always written from the villain's perspective. They were unvarnished narratives about unsavory characters. "Jordan Minnesota" was about a child molester. "Seth" is about a racist. "Columbian Necktie" is about a drug cartel hitman.

Terms like "incel" and "edgelord" didn't exist back then. But there was definitely a streak of impotent male rage and deliberate controversy in Big Black's music. In recent years, Steve Albini made a point of acknowledging those attributes in his music and apologizing for his role in elevating a culture of targeted mean-spiritedness. I think it was a noble gesture on his part, though I thought it was always fairly obvious that Big Black wasn't glorifying the behavior of the characters in their songs. It was about making art that acknowledged the awful side of humanity. Rather than sweeping the ugliness under the rug, Big Black dragged the creeps into the spotlight and shouted "look at these fucking assholes."

If Big Black defined high school, Shellac helped define my college years. The lyrical subject matter was less antagonistic, but the music seemed colder. It was sparse. Austere. Deliberately scaled back to the point of seeming mechanical. The bombast of Big Black was replaced by the tension of Shellac. At this point, you knew what Albini was capable of, but now he was the poker player who was keeping a straight face and playing his cards cautiously.

By the time At Action Park came out, Albini was a person of note outside of his bands. I remember reading his article in Maximum Rock N Roll on major labels and how the promise of riches really just meant other people in the music industry taking a slice of the artist's budget and eliminating any chance of future royalties. His engineering credentials were already legendary, and his recording philosophy played a major role in shaping my own attitude towards making records.

Russian Circles have recorded at Albini's studio half a dozen times at this point. And while we've never worked with Albini at the board, he was often lingering around the building, working on sessions in the other studio or puttering around working on things. He was exactly like you'd expect him to be. Smart. Opinionated. Quick with a sharp reply.

He was by no means infallible. His assessment of Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville back in 1993 was pretty gross. He's made a point of vocalizing his regret over naming a band Rapeman. But considering that he's been a firebrand for over 40 years, I'd say Albini did a fairly good job of ruffling feathers while sticking up for the downtrodden. He was a man of artistic ideals and principles who managed to stick to his guns while shaping the industry around him. He was an artist who was able to develop and evolve his sound over the course of several decades while also retaining the initial vision and spark in his work. He was impervious to fads yet somehow always relevant.

RIP Steve. You were one of a kind.

[wrongcaitlyn]

AHHHH I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE I SEND YOU TOO MANY ASKSMHFJGXJC BUT ANYWAYS- the greatest of luxuries takes place around 2018, right? Which is also coincidentally around the time tiktok got popular so just like hear me out-

Nico is a chronic tiktok user and definitely makes tiktok dances (he was supposed to use it for promotional purposes and it's not until Apollo asks him about it that he actually does)

Nico and Will are those tiktok friends, the kind that you see videos of and it just looks like they came straight out of a coming of age movie- same goes for whenever Leo is featured in Nico's tiktoks like they are so iconic

Apollo definitely gets tiktok for the shits and giggles, only to go accidentally viral constantly- like he could make one silly random tiktok of freaking alley cat he found and it'd get like 50 million likes 😭😭 (bros tiktok account consists of his children and their silly friends)

ANYWAYS HAVE A GOOD DAY 🫶🫶🫶🫶

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR TOO MANY ASKS I LITERALLY LIVE FOR THEM LIKE YES PLEASE ASK ME A MILLIION QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS AU THAT CONSUMES MY ENTIRE LIFELKSDF

and you are RIGHT OHMYGODSKLJF i keep thinking of a way to incorporate it bc rn they're in 2019, but i'm like, ahgsdf how do i bring in tiktok, do i make it a whole convo or just casually mention it orrrr

i do have quite a few tiktok headcanons in relation to them but i LOVE your ideas they're so real😭

these are the hc's that i had before reading this but tbh might have to go back to the drawing board on some of them becauseee i mean

(also i deleted tiktok a while back bc it was too addictive so tbh i have no idea what's going on over there anymore... nor was i there in the early daysSDLKF)

nico already strays away from social media quite a bit, and i think over the music industry changed, it's def encouraged for artists to like promote their music there and stuff. BUT. he has a bit of an addictive personality (relatable) and so when he eventually downloads it (because he would resist for a very long time) would get hooked. except he rarely posts, instead, he's that verified celeb account that you find in the most random comment sections and he spams all his friends with vids. he definitely gets a lot of pet videos i feel like, like the cute dogs and cats and he would send a vid of like yk YK WHAT VIDS IM TALKING ABOUT like two cats snuggling with each other or smth and send it to will with 'us' i just KNOW he would bc it's incredibly sappy but doesnt require too much descriptionsfkljs

he probably has 235829348 drafts and he mostly posts random stuff that's completely unrelated to his music. like i bet there would be a few people (when he occasionally says something related to his job) who didn't even know he released music despite definitely having heard it

i didn't really envision him doing tiktok dances eXCEPT maybe they all stay in his drafts. bc i dont think his vids would really be focused on *him* because he's not a huge fan of being on camera, so it'd more just be like those rants where you can only see his forehead or random studio vids oR TRAVEL VIDS WHILE ON TOUR. he would def do those. there's def some people who think he's a travel influencer and then find out he's a grammy award winning artist and are like ??? NICO?? FROM TIKTOK???

but he isn't called a "tiktok artist" despite some people knowing him from tiktok because he literally ALWAYS forgets to promote his own music in his vids. his fans are promoting it in the comment sections to try and get the people who think he's a travel influencer to listen to him😭

but his posting schedule is so very sporatic like he'll post ten vids in a day and then nothing for a month. it's fully based on vibes and is completely chaotic, just like everything else he does

will, like any other social media platform, has a private account. (nico also has a private spam) so will is that person who tags people in the comments like all the time (whereas nico sends it more often just bc he doesnt wanna risk being on the wrong account accidentally)

he appears a LOT on leo and lou ellen and cecil's tiktoks (and nico's) and every other week there's a huge internet search to find out who this guy is on a new famous person's tiktok account and then someone will be like "it's just will solace again HOW THE FUCK DOES HE ALWAYS FIND THESE PEOPLE"

like when he randomly shows up in taylor swift's getting ready for her nyu graduation post. like he's definitely there for a brief second in just like the reflection of a window or something and everyone goes CRAZY

before realizing it's this cryptid guy again who seems to be surrounded by every famous person to exist

he definitely posts a lot on his private account though and often it'll just be him rambling about something he's learned in class or him documenting every time he sees a cute animal in public

eventually he'll be dared to make a public account and he decides "haha that's funny okay sure it's not like anyone will find me"

WRONG. this guy is allergic to being not-famous. he will never be allowed to be a normal guy. his first video goes completely viral. he posts once in a blue moon, usually documenting his friends being crazy and every single time he does, it gets like a million views with people in his comments being "how does he know them???"

but you are DEFINITELY right about his account always seeming like it comes out of a coming of age story

and there are most definitely thousands of shippers in every single comment section with literally every friend. so he tries to have at least two other people in every single video so that people can't ship him with just one other person. but it's unavoidable. esp when he comes out as bi, people are just shipping him with ANYONE who shows up on his account

he also does those screaming lipsync vids to whenever a song by one of his favorite songs comes out he's a huge fanboy

OH and he gets to show off his vinyls there. he loves doing that. he's got so many and vinyl tiktok admires it.

also in every single video there's at least one comment that says "you look like apollo the singer"

EVERY SINGLE ONE

leo's the most active on tiktok, as he is with every other social media

it's either him building something, him setting something on fire, him with his friends, him talking to the camera while walking down the street (you know the genre of tiktok)

he is very similar to will in the aspect of "HOW DOES HE KNOW THEM??" but he's been a bit more public than will so people will know him more

he doesn't go viral as often as will (despite posting 132532x as much) but when he DOES it goes VIRAL viral. like tens of millions of views. it still happens quite often and he has the highest follower count of the friendgroup

and he's also the most active in comment sections like he's in every comment section you can't escape him and he replies to like every single one on his vids, usually with very cryptic responses that leave you with more questions than you started with

he ALSO tags will and nico in a bunch of videos, but not in a private account. he doesn't have a private account. he just tags them (obviously, avoiding any romance-related / stuff that could out them, in which he would send it to them) in EVERYTHING

and that's also the highest chance you have of will (on his public account) commenting on a video bc he's mostly on his priv

he also (when him and jason eventually come out) makes a million couple tiktoks and does all the trends

most recurring character in his vids are piper (and shel) (and will and nico over the summer when they're not so far apart)

apollo runs the account for delphi records

i know i haven't shared much of this BUT most people 100% assume that it's run by some intern or something bc of how casual it is but it's actually just him

he loves comment sections and hyping up all of his artists

oh BTW leo and will and apollo do all the promotion for nico because of how much he forgets about it

it's very common for nico to be posting a random ass video and then the top comment is Delphi Records ✓ Check out Nico's latest single, ______!

he also EVENTUALLY gets a tiktok for himself

that is just entirely his kids

as he should

aside from leo, i think kayla and piper are most active on tiktok

piper knows all the inner fandom details from shel (who has an editing account 100% bc i have an editing account and im projecting onto her)

piper's vids are mostly with leo they're such an iconic duo

idk why but all i can think of when thinking about piper is that her feed is like momona tamada?? like that's the vibe we're going for here

and ofc she promotes charities and other important topics there too!!!

and if there's a wlw trend going around yk that piper and shel are going to be on that first thing, probably the top video under whatever audio it is

and KAYLA. GOD. KAYLA'S TIKTOK IS SOOO ICONIC i think she's second to leo with most followers

the lip sync videos for sure, also out of all of them i think she'd def do tiktok dances she'd slay them all

and then some of them are just trends or her in the archery range

somewhat similarly to will, she often gets comments that say "how does she know them??"

but like a good 30% of people watching the archery events of the olympics are there just because of her tiktokSDLFKJS

she also happens to go viral. all. the fucking. time. like i swear apollo's kids just HAVE to go viral all the time they can't escape it they're made for fame and it's likeee kayla does love it (will not so muchKSDF and austin has avoided this problem by just not downloading tiktok at all! except apollo's video of him performing has gone viral. oh well.)

so those are my hc's feel free to add on to these!!! i would love to hear what y'all think bc AHGSDFL writing about these characters' social media is one of my favvv things to do - thank you for the ask!!!! sorry for the lengthy rambleKSDJF

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Snake Eyes 5

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

The service industry is less than formal. There’s not much red tape in the hiring process and less administrative restraints. So, after a short video interview with Sif, you accept a job for the weekend. It’s not entirely your choice of venue, a yacht, but the pay even before gratuity is enough to convince you.

More peculiar about the job is that it’s not a single night. You’re slated to work through the weekend at breakfast, lunch and dinner. It beats handing out shots to tipsy coeds; these wealthy investors will have deeper pockets.

So much for being destitute all at the whim of that snake. It’s the nature of the business. Gigs don’t last long and when they do, you’re miserable. If it was up to you, you’d be working at one of the upscale cocktail bars in the downtown core but they rarely open up applications.

You pack a bag and take your time getting ready. There’s a dress code of course. All black, no pants. You know these sorts of events. They only hire women and their purpose is more than serving, they have to be nice to look at. Well, you can doll yourself up.

You put on a sleek halter blouses with a leather skirt. You’ll sweat your ass off but it’s what you got. You have just enough outfits to last you through two days. Oh, and some anti-nausea meds to counteract the sea sickness.

The job will reimburse you for the cost of the uber. You don’t think you’ve ever been to the dock. You weren’t a part of the college crowd with their party boats and aren’t generally a fan of being on the water. You tip the driver on your phone as you get out and look around.

There are two other girls in black hovering around. You approach them, assuming they're in the same boat as you. The pun barely worth thinking. 

“Hey, um, are you meeting Sif?” You ask.

“You must be the new girl,” they look at you with their drawn on brows, “Tara,” the tall redhead introduces herself.

“Zadie,” the shorter woman with the spiral curls flicks her lashes derisively.

You offer your name in return, sensing their coolness. They’ve worked together a while, that means you’re the rookie, you have to prove yourself. That isn’t difficult, you have faith in your own skills.

“You’re pretty,” Tara preens, “love the gloss.”

“Thanks,” you accept the compliment.

“I could never pull that shade off,” she continues, “very harsh.”

You nod and force a smile. You’re sure that is only the beginning of your act. You shoulder your bag and turn on your heel listlessly. You’re not here to make friends.

“Girls,” Sif’s heels draw your attention as they click across the dock, “thank you for waiting. The captain was a bit late with his safety review. Ugh, so we have to hurry with set up. The investors will be arriving shortly. Can’t have you standing out here like a bunch of stray cats.”

“What happened to Katie?” Zadie asks as she steps forward first.

“She’s at her sister’s wedding,” Sif returns smoothly, “don’t worry, she’s vetted and very capable,” the dark haired woman gives you an appraising look, “you might learn a few things, Zee.”

Zadie rolls her eyes and Tara grins over her shoulder, trying to hide her amusement. You shrug and follow them towards the boarding ramp. Right, just don’t think about the water.

🍸

The boat is a flurry. After you are shown your cramped cabin, leaving your bag on the bed, you are taken to the gala deck. There, you are acquainted with the bar and set to your prep. The familiarity of the work welcomes you in and your nerves calm even as the subtle swell of the water rocks the ship.

As you work in tandem with the other girls, the lights adjust and music begins to waft around the space. You look out at the tables, set and ready for diners. It seems a rather overdone event. You’re not sure if you had yacht money, you would waste it on these pompous displays. Maybe that’s why you don’t have any money.

The first investors begin to trickle in. You hear Sif’s voice rise above the building din as she beckons them in and shows them their seats. Some sort of auction for charity. Funny, how these things are always fundraisers…

As the crowd burgeons in, the first patrons of the night come by the bar. Tara elbows past you to take the lead. You let her. You know her type. They approach the job like a competition. No use playing that game.

“Miss, a drink,” you hear from your left. You turn to greet the man, his silty tone only registering once you face him. Loki smirks as he drapes his arm over the trim, “I believe you know my preference.”

You withhold a scowl. You don’t know how to respond. You can’t scream at him so you turn and begin to put together a dry martini. You feel him watching you. Of course, he’s one of them.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Zadie comes up behind you, “nice to see you.”

“You too,” he says silkily.

“Hon, why don’t you let me take over for Mr. Laufeyson?” She offers as she touches your arm.

“She’s got it,” he shoos her with his fingers.

You present him the tall glass and meet his eye. He watches you with that imperious gloating grin. He reaches for it, sliding it closer with two fingers around the stem.

“Now I should be suitably bolstered to face my guests,” he declares. You squint at him, his guests? “Darling, should you require anything, you know you only need ask. I do take pride in accommodating my staff well.”

You blink, lips sealed and tight. His eyes rove up and down as he lifts his martini, “cheers.” He takes a sip and winks, before spinning on his heel and strutting off. You should’ve known it was all too easy.