#NOT THAT ANYONE WAS FORCING ME TO STICK TO POP SONG

[hoshiina]

pairing: narumi gen x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he's always thought that anyone would do if he just wanted to find love but he realizes you're the one he wishes for, inspired by pop song by yonezu kenshi

warnings: some profanities from narumi

wc: 1300

Narumi Gen hated a lot of things, but one of his least favourites of all time was "true love". He despised when people would describe their love for another as "true love". It couldn't possibly be that serious. Just say you loved your partner. That was probably the extent feelings got to anyways— you just so happened to like each other at the same time. To him that was plenty of a feat alone, why would you have to make it sound like more than it is? For the sake of love? Ridiculous.

To him, that was truly all love was. If there was someone who liked him when he happened to like them too, that was enough. No need for years of pining, no need to get attached to some unrequited love. All that noise about love and destiny surely wasn't all that necessary.

Now, this wasn't to say that he didn't wish to find love— because he did. Like any other person, he truly wished to be loved. It was just that what he had in mind wasn't some deep pure love that'd last forever, nor was it a promise for eternity. He just wished for a light-hearted "I love you" here and there with someone he found special.

And for that, anyone would do. He'd find someone who fancied him along the way, and hopefully he'd like them back. That was all there was to it.

This meant his plan for finding his partner was sitting around and waiting. As horribly lame as that sounded, because he was Narumi Gen, this wasn't that hopeless of a plan. So, that's what he did. He'd go around saving people and doing his duties (to the absolute bare minimum) while making sure he was constantly trending, hoping that one day, someone would like him.

Today he was standing around for a solid five extra minutes after he defeated the honju with ease, hoping the media would snap some nice pictures of him, or he'd finally charm someone this time.

"Captain, you ought to stop that," you said. "It's rather embarrassing, you look desperate now."

"Oh, would you shut up," he said. "You're ruining my good name!"

You snorted. "What good name," you scoffed.

"I'm starting to think its your fault I'm not charming anyone. Perhaps if you didn't stop me every time, someone would have found me by now," he said.

"Yeah, right. Captain Ashiro seems to be having no issues charming people and I've never seen her try to," you said.

"You little shit," he said.

"Besides they're going to be utterly disappointed if they think this is what you're like and then they find out what you're… actually like," you said, and he was starting to think you wanted him to fire you. "It's okay. Someone will see how you're actually lovely at times soon."

"What?" he asked, shocked by what you said.

"What?" you replied, confused.

"You— you said lovely," he said quietly. Suddenly he felt flustered.

"Oh," you said, looking away and avoiding eye contact. It wasn't like you didn't mean to say that, but you didn't think it was that big of a deal. Rather, how flustered he sounded took you by surprise. “Well, you’re a little lame but you’re a good guy. Like you pretend you only do it for the media, but I know you’re always checking the alleyways that don’t have as much surveillance just in case, and checking alleyways isn’t something a captain has to do. And we both know the media isn’t writing about anything you do there. Things like that.”

“You never know!” he said, and you snorted.

“Alright then,” you said. “You do you, Captain.”

“I will!” he said back, trying to sound proud.

A week had passed and here he was, doing what he always did after arriving fashionably late to the scene and taking all the kaiju out in a matter of minutes: standing around trying to look good. Because he wanted love, and anyone would do. Anyone who liked him was supposed to do.

...

And yet he wished for you.

He wished that when he woke up, the first thing he would see was you. He wished that you'd smile at him everyday with love and genuine joy the way you did to others, and he wished that you’d smile that way to him alone. He wished that after a long day, he was the one you came home to. He wished from the bottom of his heart that you would always be safe and no harm would ever come your way. He wished that your days were filled with laughter and smiles and he knew he would risk his life to protect that.

It was so unlike him in a way he absolutely hated. True love was supposed to be nonsense and someone being ‘the one’ was supposed to be some dramatic line in a movie. It upset him, that he was so utterly fond of you. Yet, no matter how much it upset him, it didn't change the fact that he was, and he couldn't deny it anymore after trying to ignore it for the full week.

So here he was, acting stupid again, hoping that you’d scold him again or tell him he’s embarrassing himself, because that’s what it’s come down to. He just wanted another reason to talk to you.

But you wouldn’t come to stop him after 10 whole minutes.

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” he asked, irritated.

“Pardon?” you asked, utterly confused.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop?” he asked again. He was aware how silly he sounded, but he was pissed off that you meant so much to him so he had to take it out on you.

“Because you told me to stop last time??” you replied. “I thought you were going to keep this up until you found yourself a partner.”

“You’re the one who told me to find someone that saw how I was…. lovely…. at times,” he said, but said the lovely very quietly. Remembering that you had described him as lovely made his cheeks burn and he’d rather die than let you see that.

“I mean, yeah. I do think you should,” you said.

“Don’t you notice, though?” he asked quietly, avoiding eye contact. There was a moment of silence.

“I do,” you said, and immediately he looked up to face you. You had a grin on your face and you looked so proud— you looked like you had won a game. Oh, how he hated you.

“You’re so annoying,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Rich coming from you,” you said.

“So, do you—,” he started to yell before cutting himself off. Carefully, he tried again. “Would you please… uh… be mine…?”

Oh, this is so embarrassing, he thought. Perhaps you’d laugh at him, but he wanted to do this properly, or at the very least try to. He’d be far more than just stupid to mess this up now. He was finally in love.

But your laughter never came. When he looked up your eyes were wide and you looked so flustered, but soon you had the most beautiful smile on your face.

“I would absolutely love to,” you said.

So he kissed you right then and there, because there was nothing he wanted to do more at the moment.

He laughed a little.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“No, nothing,” he said.

There was no way just anyone would do— it had to be you.

[sugar-petals]

since hybe keeps on mumbling how they don’t exactly know when to bring back bangtan because quote “BTS' share of overall revenue is not likely to be as high as in the past” and they will significantly deprioritze them (silly, delusional, eyeroll-worthy, oblivious, rude, greedy, foolish, the audacity: a damn rennaissance is about to happen! the whole fandom is emerging from the woodwork ffs), we need to take matters in our own hands getting everyone on board, enjoying what’s about to happen, and hype this calm before the very exciting storm up. in other words: silence, corporation! 

the ones that give and gave you all that money are talking now. we’re all still here! it doesn’t matter how much BTS will make because it would always suffice to keep them going (otherwise, they’d be long disbanded), nor is it of concern how old they are, what the trends may be, anything. it matters that they are back. full stop! as the phenomenon they are, and as friends, artists, cultural forces, support systems, as people. military is hard! plus, and that seems to be the good ole main concern: it even doesn’t matter how popular anyone else is by that time in 2025. or later because companies can mess anything up. man... we gotta stick together.

good for that other group or artist if things are happening for them. most idols barely make a living and have to repay huge debts. and besides: if, for instance, chungha drops a viral quality banger one week before BTS returns like it’s her fantastic baby i will do what? rejoice! because holy shit, two cool new songs! and hybe will still make cash anyway, as even more eyes are on the industry. and more old and new fans gather. who would have thought! even if BTS’ main market rivals perform amazingly: imagine how huge and buzzing the award shows and charts and switching on the speakers will be. this will be like spring. 

if bts not being on top is the worry — uh, how unrealistic — i guess hybe wants to insult everyone in this equation (and rage bait?!), even themselves: hilariously weak stuff right there. the golden eras of k-pop and music generally were marked by several great, bustling groups being excellent parallel to another anyway, with several contrasting trends emerging simultaneously. the bland eras had monopolies, a uniform look, meh production vibes, and nothing major happening 90% of the time, and the overall quality dragging everyone down, down, down. that’s not what we want! 

i want this thing blowing up like every group releases their gangnam style on crack all at once. my feed spammed with shiny thumbnails, fan cams, announcements, shows, reactions, like an LSD trip. any groups and solo artists dropping and bumping their hits nonstop ring ding dong style until the fans collapse from excitement and not keeping up. i want mutuals on my dash yelling “WHAT... I MISSED /THIS/ WHILE I SLEPT?!!” constantly again! period! i want my brain melting from all the viral dance breaks and catchy rap parts and insane choreography and new hair colors and the wildest ever beats. come at me! i think that fans can handle being blasted with fun music and novelty from all directions 😉 

cause, pay attention hybe honey, that’s what liking music is all about. even if fans prefer one artist/group over the other. yep, it is possible. who wouldn’t have a good time if all the big groups went off: there’s something furiously cool happening for everyone! a good kpop generation has a firework of big, BIG releases in a short(er) period of time, without overworking idols of course. and that’s what we need now, awakening from the slumber. bts’ military discharge is the starting signal for exactly that. hybe doesn’t know who they’re handling. they should be screaming “omg let’s gooo, look at them” the loudest! this shit is like the one piece time skip, hello? 

i can’t believe penny pinching is still supposed to be the problem. do they even know which group they’re talking about? just ludicrous. these 7 guys had and always have the midas touch. even yoongi who couldn’t even afford a single proper meal or the bus home from bighit is now worth a heavy 50 million bucks. there is no sense in fearing they’ll tank financially. hybe has zero trust and doesn’t know the fandom dynamics at all. as soon as jungkook even does as much as tie his hair back we are activated like purple sleeper agents.

even if bts totally fumbles and disappoints with the most awful regressive slop in history, a boring album, lost their spark, go through media turmoil, whatever, unless some producer totally goes off the rails and copies someone else word by word and note by note, it would be impossible not to pay attention to them anyway. i repeat. popularity and increasing revenue are never an issue with them. raise your hand, who thinks RM will greenlight a song that only two people enjoy and click on? hybe acts like the stadiums will be empty. does their CFO have amnesia? if the oasis reunion sells out in one hour, can you imagine what’s going to happen here?

i also don’t buy that they need a year’s prep time. far 2026 comeback?! many idols only took 2-3 months after military discharge. both sides are full of happy anticipation, idols and fans. yes — coordination, rehearsing, plans, tour, getting used to it all again, hair growing back, not rushing, subunits, hyyh anniversary, rest, military is an abrasive 24/7 job, other things also need organizing, i get it. but hell, yoongi once said he comes up with one or two songs each day. his head must be brewing with stuff that bts can drop in some considerable time, and i’m not being avaricious here. not to mention that namjoon probably has 10 poetry books worth of lyrics written in the meantime and will not hesitate to bring his writings to the table. 

if i was jimin my dancing feet would be dying to move in sync with everyone else sooner or later. i’d drop whatever content i wanted and enjoy being back. the audience reaction boost alone will accelerate everything, it might even be scary how much of a deal this will be. but basking in the early joy is the topic now! i want people theorizing like mad what’s gonna happen lmao, that’s the most fun! so let’s get this party started. we’re gearing up, there’s no stopping army anyway once it all gets going. and we’re cooking with imagination, too.

imagine a lead song that’s catchy like butter, lyrically hyped-up like the cyphers, dynamite-level impactful, a full-on banger like not today, adrenaline-laden like fire, and colorful like DNA. i’m not asking for too much, they’ve done it before. they are bts. it all comes down to who’s (co-)producing. that’s what i’m worried about. so my wish producer or force behind the scenes if hybe goes the american way (of course they will) would be someone pharell-esque. upbeat, refreshing, it has to match bts’ golden theme thread throughout their career. i wouldn’t mind the weeknd for a more melancholic B-side. 

it doesn’t have to be completely ice cream bubble gum at all, it could be anything in fact, and the new artistic direction remains to be seen later. the curiosity is one of the best parts. let’s focus on that! my feeling is that they slightly pick up where they left off, tie loose ends together, reprise their best elements as a tangent, and then present a whole new thing immediately. they’ve always been referencing with their work while innovating, this will be no different. yeah, the task of a whole new song/album carrying on the story is pretty difficult. settling in, too. i see why hybe thinks its risky, sure. i’d feel the pressure and required effort, too. but it’s bts! whatever they are cooking up will be of interest. i rest my case, this is going to be huge.

[starzwithapen]

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

[12triceratops]

Where the rubber meets the road.

These two didn't just have a relationship, they had a (soul)utionship. "The Prophecy" Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle...

What these two had was magical. There is no debate that Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift were electric: (I am using past tense for the moment, I will refer to them in present tense a bit later in the post)

Fast forward a decade later to Fortnight. This record did not hit me immediately the way "Folklore" and "Evermore" did, It has almost been a week since its release and I hadn't been fully onboard with TTPD. I was expecting something different, something not familiar and I had quite literally thought maybe Jack Antinoff and Taylor Swift had reached their limit together as collaborators. The music produced by Aaron Dressner had flavors and connections to "Folklore" and "Evermore," while parts of the album was reminiscent of "1989." My next thought that maybe the three of them had done all they could do.

And then the Matty Healy conversation exploded across the net (le sigh), and I just about gave up on the record.

I damn near had a sanguinary struggle within myself over The Tortured Poets Department (I know, that is very dramatic lol), and then I finally got it. The brilliance of this woman is unmatched.

The last song "The Manuscript." Now and then she rereads the manuscript Of the entire torrid affair

"The entire torrid affair" meaning the last decade (probably longer, but I am sticking with 2014-2024). The title isn't lost on me and many others - The Man-U-Script.

The last segment of the song

The only thing that's left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I reread the manuscript But the story isn't mine anymore

She is closing the chapter on all of it. It's over, the countless theories, the stories we all have created about her. They're our stories now, we built them into a formidable, monstrous entity that took on a life of its own. "The last souvenir" are her words to us on this album. From the Swifities, to the Gaylors/Kaylors, to the haters, critics, industry, fans, media. She won't play this game anymore. Taylor gave enough clues on this album to make EVERYONE'S theory plausible (Karlie, Joe, Matty, Travis, Harry, Kim etc). She connected threads to come full circle, which brings us back to "1989," that 1980s syth-pop (hello! "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart"). This is why she and Jack Antonoff brought us back to where it all began, Karlie Kloss and #Kissgate (Dianna Agron, too, who can forget "Wonderland). Aaron Dressner summons moments within this records of the two albums that fractured my soul, F & E. That folky-pop melody that gets into your skin to change the DNA. No joke, I sobbed listening to "Folklore" and "Evermore."

With TTPD, Taylor comes in like a thrashing, tumultuous storm; at times seething and others admonishing. She is singing to herself, for herself and without need of approval from the mainstream radio (or anyone else). TTPD is messy, too much, not enough, vulnerable, real, relatable and she is tired of our collective shit.

Back to "The Manuscript" This Era has come to an end and she is leaving us with the ruins, the aftermath of what she went through: being forced to hide who she really is, having to placate the rabid fans who believe the stories of every boy she has ever dated. She has had zero privacy and the only safe place Taylor has ever had was her music, she is the ONLY one who knows to whom she sings. Does she love her fans, of course, but Mother is tired and done. She is ready to come clean and live the life she has crafted to keep in secret in order to protect the innocent.

The beards, NDAs, slight of hand, she is smashing all that we know. It's not her reflection she seeks to shatter, it's the illusions. In "Fortnight" the nurse, a woman (cannot convince me that it's not Karlie. A doorframe is 6'8" and that nurse is about 5" shorter that frame, which would make that person 6'3" :), comes to save her, gives her the key to set her free. The men in the video are the ones who are torturing her. Like the last 10 years, The poet has been tortured by the department of men: Joe, John, Conner, Jake, Harry, Calvin, Tom, Joe, Matty, Travis, Scooter, Scott, and the list goes on.

It's "Robin" that has got a choke-hold on me.

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness

She is singing to a child, a kid, and I am going to say a little boy. Is this song about Levi? I am going to say yes. Hands down the gem of the album, and our cue to realize she is telling us what is next, her family, the loves of her life: Karlie and the kids. That is what she wants and that will be her next chapter. We struggle to interpret the Taylor that is always ten steps ahead of us. Her Eras Tour, this will be the last one for a while. Once it has wrapped, I wouldn't be surprised if she disappeared for a spell. Will she produce more work, sure. Perform, probably, but this last decade has taken a toll, and this tour has been a herculean effort. Hence, its wild success. Could she retire (FLORIDA)? It's possible, but she would never tell us, we would have to figure that out for ourselves.

I have more to say, but it's late and I am sleepy. As I get lost in the piano of "The Manuscript" I am reminded of the book "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo"

Not sure if anyone is going to see or read this, but I needed a place to write my thoughts about this extraordinary album that I almost let slip through my fingers. Good night and sleep well everyone <3

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS AS WOMEN IN RAP

scout: i had to decide who was getting what between scout and pyro, and i think i’ve made the decision. i’m giving scout the british drill rapper ceechyna. these two are young and way too pretty to sound as mean as they do. particularly, the thing about ceechyna that just gets me is that she says some of the most fucked up shit, but because she’s british she sounds so… cute with it. it’s the inverse of scout, because he’s from boston, im absolutely certain stirred his wives into states of physical violence because of his sheer tone when reciting his vows. i also love her low effort twerking i feel like scout would twerk like that too but because he’s built like a stick that’s his best. that’s all he’s got.

soldier: i feel like i see more people argue about soldier than literally any other merc, when all this man does is rocket jump and market garden, and it really seems like players want this man dead more often than not. and because of that (and some other stuff) we’re assigning jane doe cardi b! i’ve never seen more people argue about goofy ass shit than with these two people right here! cardi has worked her ass off to get where she is, and i don’t give a single good god damn that she was robbing men blind, i just don’t. and cardi may not be eloquent, but she doesn’t need to be to pop her shit. also— cardi and glo are cousins and i love that for soldier and demo.

pyro: what woman in rap has a four letter name, is marginally off putting, and likes it that way? rico. rico nasty is damn near an unspoken force in the rap game with her openness to be her genuine self in a way that black women are not normally allowed to be seen as. and i absolutely adore her for it. go my goth baddie, go forth and kill everyone. and i feel the same way about pyro! you will always know when pyro is on the scene. they just have that aura around them. and every time i write about pyro, i rub my hands together menacingly, the same way every time rico releases a new song, i become an objectively more frightening version of the creature i already was. god i love that woman. and i love pyro. we shall go forth and make people a little more scared.

demo: GET EM DEMO! unapologetically himself, thicker than his accent, goofy as hell and ready to throw down when shit starts getting shaky, demo gets the one and only, memphis’ finest, GloRilla! i absolutely ADORE glo, because glo has worked like a DOG and deserves every ounce of praise and recognition she gets! and demo, like miss glo, has never sacrificed an ounce of himself to make it where he is now. he got where he is because of his dedication to himself! and, much like glo, he really goes great with anyone as a partner. flexible, and aggressive on a damn beat, he can go toe to toe with the best of them!

heavy: y’all already know he’s getting cupcakke right. we all know this? cupcakke is an unspoken, yet insanely influential giant in the industry, and frankly, past some of these ladies, is one of the first women you think of when you think of women in rap. independently funded, and aggressive on a beat, a class and play style like heavy will have anyone turn an eye in interest. and all cupcakke does is post her outfits, write her raps, and mind her business. and i think it can be said for heavy that all he’s trying to do is eat his sandwich, shoot his gun, and mind his business. it’s just that the teams business is now his business too.

engineer: young. rich. bitch. with something to prove. this bee cave native gets the houston native monaleo! engie, like his fellow texan, i feel is so kind, and so sweet and uplifting to his team that they forget this man has a whole ass shotgun in his inventory, and can, and will shoot someone fucking dead. this man is not one to play with! do not let his smile and his charm fool you, he is not a bitch and he will ABSOLUTELY call you out in the streets for a brawl! and he’ll tell you that! you are welcome to have an issue with him, but if you want to talk about it, you better bring it directly to him!

medic: i SAW THIS MAN at the hot girl summer tour. he was IN THE PIT watching megan shake ass in 4K 1080P and he was eating that shit up! anyways, the doctor does get houston’s crown jewel, megan thee stallion! tall, gorgeous, a cultural cornerstone, well traveled, educated, humorous, beautifully built with brilliant smiles and frankly, just not glazed enough for me. these two have me clocking in to my krispy kreme shift with how hard i’m glazing. also, every time megan says her name i hear “medic”, and that does not help. this man is a genuine menace to anyone not on his side, and megan is not known for taking her foot off of bitches’ necks.

sniper: this honorary aussie gets the steadily and deservedly rising star doechii! i’ve been following doechii since she/her/black bitch, and doechii has literally always been Her. same way sniper has always been Him. ESPECIALLY with the release of alligator bites never heal, doechii is able to do something i don’t think hardly any other rapper does, which is be genuine about the mental state she’s in at almost… all times, it seems. and i think if you ask snipes “how are you, really?” he would be equally honest. and her ability to switch flow is stunning. same way anyone who can actually play sniper and play him well im dropping trowel for.

spy: flo milli shit, bitch! spy has got to get one of the ladies that had what can only be called a meteoric rise to stardom, flo milli! this alabama native is truly a rap girl who found her lane and rides it until the wheels fall off. a certified hit maker, i feel like flo is truly in her bag as a feature. a lovely support to a rapper who is already aggressive on a beat, she’s almost laid back. effortless, even, in her ability to go toe to toe with her peers, and her seniors. truly a stunning woman for this stunning specialized mercenary.

[whinsical-ash]

Too much liquid courage (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Summary: Sometimes great ideas happen when you drink, sadly this is not one of those times.

Gif not mine

I wasn’t one for drinking but every once in a while I get dragged along with my fellow medics. I watch boredly as they all drink their fill and catch about the latest dumb stunt a recruit did that forced them to see a medic. My eyes kept drifting back to the old piano that was tucked into a corner of the room. A few people have messed with the piano keys in the few hours I’ve been here but no ones really played a song.

It hasn’t been too long since I last played and I’ve drank enough not to care about the audience, not a lot of people here anyway. Some familiar faces, others not so familiar.

“I’ll be back,” I mumbled as I moved out of the chair with drink in hand. I slip between tables as I make my way to the piano, not paying the people around me much attention. I sat down with my drink, already half drank and half forgotten. I ran my fingers against the old keys, paint was almost completely chipped off for more than a few of the keys.

I hummed in surprise as I realized the piano was actually tuned, a smile graced my lips. It seems like this idea was meant to be.

I close my eyes as I think of what to play before a familiar face pops into my head, a huff of laughter escapes my lips as the masked face makes me think of a familiar song. I hadn’t seen him or anyone that might be close to the man so chances were no one would report back to the man, so I was in the clear to have a little fun.

It would be better with a few other instruments but it still be fun to play.

My fingers dance across the keys as a large grin forms on my face.

“I'm getting hickeys from my bed bugs

I'm getting busy with a bad perfume

I'm sticking kisses to a pen drug

I'm making friction with a sad vacuum”

I wasn’t too loud as I sang along with the piano but I heard some of the conversations trickle to a stop as people's attention shifted towards me.

“… I'm getting jiggy with a rifle

I'll pull the trigger with my eyes closed

Hoping to hit you somewhere vital

And when I miss, you come and kiss me with a smile

… I'm having sex with a ghost, 'cause he knows I'm alone

He's a freak in the sheets, play it cool”

I wasn’t one to usually change the pronouns in a song but this time I figure it would be too fun not to. I’m sure my coworkers' minds were already thinking of the Lieutenant even if I use She/her pronouns.

“I'm sleeping with a

Sex with a ghost, 'cause he knows I'm alone

He's a freak in the sheets, play it cool

I'm sleeping with a ghoul”

I sway my body as I start to sing a little louder as I get lost in playing and imagining what Lieutenant Simon Riley aka Ghost, would look like if someone tried to serenade him with this specific song.

There were other songs that I thought fit the man better but this was a fun one that made me think of the man I was crushing on. It wasn’t surprising when you pull back a few layers of the man, anyone would fall for him if they gave the man a chance to snatch their heart away. His laugh was something music should be jealous of. His humor was dark but that just made the puns better in my opinion.

I kept my eyes closed as I imagined Ghost leaning against the piano, not a sound from the man. Just his eyes running up and down as he watches me play. Maybe he’ll grow tired of standing and sit next to me, his body touching mine. Would he watch my hands play the keys or would his eyes be focused on my mouth? Would he ask for another song once I finished? In this fantasy that was slowly taking shape in my mind, he would lead me out the bare and show me what it would be like to have Sex with Simon instead of Sex with a Ghost.

“… I'm having sex with a ghost, 'cause he knows I'm alone

He's a freak in the sheets, play it cool

I'm sleeping with a

Sex with a ghost, 'cause she knows I'm alone

He's a freak in the sheets, play it cool

I'm sleeping with a ghoul”

I play the last few notes before opening my eyes to look at the keys, wondering what to play next or if I was done with the night. I play a few random notes. I know that sounds pleasant but it was just something to keep my hands busy as I ponder what to do next. I glance up only to freeze as my eyes settle on a table on the opposite side of the room. 

“Fuck,” I sighed out as I recognized the group. Two of them were clearly messing with the mask man whose eyes were locked on you. 

I quickly looked down and pretended I hadn’t seen him and started to play a song to avoid any chance of one of the four men coming over and starting a conversation. 

When in doubt Piano man is the way to go for a distraction.

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday

The regular crowd shuffles in

There's an old man sittin' next to me

Makin' love to his tonic and gin

He says, "Son, can you play me a memory?

I'm not really sure how it goes

But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete

When I wore a younger man's clothes

 I belted out the lyrics to the familiar song trying to act drunker than I was to explain away the first song as something silly that didn’t mean anything at all. I skillfully play the keys as I figure out my escape plan.

 As soon as I finished the song I stood up and took a stumble steep into a deep bow as some people clapped before making sure to stumble in a way that suggested drunkenness to me but subtle enough to be real. I make my way to the bar to pay my tab.

“It’s already been taken care of, the mask fellow over there.” The bartender gestures behind me but I don’t turn to look.

I give him a too large smile before hurrying into the night and hope there is no trouble waiting for me in the morning. 

“If all else fails, I can fake my death.” Is the last thing to fall from my lips as I collapse into my bed dreading what is to come from my drunk courage.

[ihearthes]

Christmas Thyme part 1

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 2665

‘Tis a week before Christmas, and just as I am preparing to twist the “Open” sign to its “Closed” side, the bell over the door jingles. Inwardly, I groan. Outwardly, I paste on my brightest smile as I pivot towards my (hopefully) final customer of a very long, very exhausting day. 

I freeze. 

Because standing there in the doorway of my boutique is Harry Styles. THE Harry Styles. You know. As It Was. Watermelon Sugar. Sex on a stick. That last one isn’t a song. Just a description. 

“Um, hi,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say, but then I quickly tack on a “How may I help you?” 

His eyebrows draw downwards, and he looks around at the merchandise which, after a long day of Saturday sales in the last few frantic days before the most important gift-buying holiday of the year, is scattered everywhere. 

I’ve no idea if I want him to decide to leave immediately or if I should beg him to stay and shop. I do neither. 

But only because I spot another person on the street outside, pointing at one of the most sought after and most frequently purchased soy candles. She and her friend appear to be heading towards the door, so I summon the last of my energy and lunge for the door ahead of them, pulling the shade while simultaneously rotating the lock. My panicked movements mean I jostle the popstar as he stands nearby. 

“Oops! I’m so sorry. I just…” 

“Are you open or closed?” He asks, worry etched on his forehead where it peeks out underneath his black beanie. I take him in, recognising his face instantly. With a pair of joggers, he wears a black Pleasing crewneck, and I’m briefly jealous of how cosy it looks. I wouldn’t mind snuggling close – to the crewneck, of course. 

I am, after all, a competent businesswoman. Pfft. Okay, I’m trying to be one. 

“We’re closed now, but if you don’t have much to shop for, you’re welcome to look around while I tidy up in preparation for Tuesday’s maniacal clientele. 

He grunts, and I assume it’s affirmation that he’d like to look around, so I nod. “Are you looking for something in particular? Or shopping for a certain someone?” Wracking my brain, I attempt to recall if he’s currently dating anyone, but I’ve no idea. Since opening up my pop up last month, I’d not had time to do much more than work daily until exhaustion forces me to crawl into bed with a heating pad on my back and warm peppermint compresses on my feet. 

“Just looking…” He smiles, and I’m nearly blinded by the left dimple. 

Holy shit. No wonder he’s so popular. 

I have the silly idea that I should sniff him. It would be easy to make a tonne of money from bottling his scent and selling it. Then I would have enough money to set up a permanent shop to sell my organic candles, soaps, and lotions. 

Resisting only because I have managed to maintain some self-respect after being yelled at and cursed at by customers all day long, I decide to provide him some privacy. 

“Absolutely. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

He nods once, and I swear my insides melt into a puddle like Frosty the Snowman when the sun has come out. 

Stepping to the counter, I fiddle with the sound system, turning off the grating holiday tunes that permeate the atmosphere this time of year and sliding instead into some soothing jazz from Alfa Mist. As soon as the first song starts playing, Harry’s head whips around and he stares in my direction. 

“Excellent choice.” His voice is gravelly and kind with a bit of surprise in it. 

“It’s the kind of music I prefer,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. 

“Me too.” 

It’s such a surprising thing for him to say that I do my own double take, but he’s returned already to smelling the candles on the wall display. 

Shrugging, I move to the first shelves to the right of the register, straightening products, and making mental notes of what I need to restock. When I move to the next set of shelves, though, it’s clear that a mental note isn’t going to be of any help. There are simply too many hand lotions, soaps, and other products that need to be replaced. Sighing, I move behind the counter again, withdrawing a pad of paper. Quickly, I jot down what I need to replace on the first two shelves. 

Turning my head, I see that Harry has barely finished sniffing one shelf of candles. “Um…” He glances up at my utterance. “...would you mind if I stepped into the back to grab some more stock?” 

“Whatever you need to do.” His voice is so silky that I could easily wear it and nothing else against my skin forever. 

In the small stockroom, I remove my shoes, wiggling my toes that have been screaming at me for the last two hours. Grabbing a basket I keep for just this purpose, I fill it with the items on my list before stepping back onto the main floor. The coolness of the tiles under my toes is soothing, and I sigh at the pleasure of it on my hot skin. Quickly, I restock the first two shelves, giving my feet a workout as I have to rise onto my toes multiple times. My knees also get to practise squatting so I can place items on the bottom shelf. 

After I slide my protesting feet back into my shoes, I sneak a peek to check on Harry. He’s moved on to the next set of shelves, opening the sample shampoos and smelling them one by one. 

At this rate, he’ll be here another hour at least. 

Surveying the third set of shelves, I jot down the merchandise I need to pull from the back for this one. It’s the shelf of eye compresses I’ve made that include differing herbs to soothe the skin around the eyes and quiet the mind. With a quick glance at Harry, I return to the storeroom, trying to recall where I’d placed the box holding more eye compresses. 

Spying it on a higher shelf, hiding behind a box of the scented rice neck pillows I’d designed to be heated and worn next to the skin, I stand on my tiptoes in order to reach. Just — one — more — inch — CRASH! Both boxes clatter to the ground, the sides splitting open on the box holding the neck pillows, and I sigh. 

“Are you okay?” 

His voice startles me, and I jump like that time I’d been forced to watch a horror movie by my previous boyfriend. The arsehole. 

Placing my hand on my chest to calm my pounding heart, I smile at where his head has emerged through the curtain separating the sales floor and stockroom. 

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay. Just knocked off a couple of boxes.” 

“Shit. That looks annoying. Let me help.” He muscles his way past the curtain, assisting me by setting the box right side up. I locate the roll of packing tape I’d used earlier to package some items for a customer who wanted them delivered, handing the tape to Harry as he repairs the box. “I’m Harry.” His introduction is endearing, and I share my name too. 

“No one else working tonight?” His hushed tones do things to my body that are inappropriate for work. 

“No one else is working ever. It’s my shop, and I couldn’t afford to pay for help this year.” 

“Damn. How do you manage?” 

“Well, I take it slow on nights like this with the restocking and tidying because I know I’ll get the next two days to soak my feet and relax.”

“But how do you do it during the day with all the customers?” 

“I think that’s clear from the state of the front. I muddle through.” My shrug is intended to communicate that there’s no real answer to that question. 

“Can I help?” 

“YOU?” I yelp, clamping both hands over my mouth at my shriek. 

“Why not me?” 

“Um, cause you’re Harry Styles.” 

When he smiles this time, his eye crinkles come into focus, and I’m lost in him. I could stare at those crows’ feet all night, I think. 

“And that means I can’t help?” 

“It means that you probably have plenty of plans that don’t include stocking shelves.” 

“Hmmm… tonight, I actually do not have plans. My sister and I were supposed to shop for our mum, and then my sister ended up ill, so…” Trailing off, he raises both hands to the side in imitation of a shrug. “You can pay me by helping me choose gifts for my mum and my sister. And my manager’s wife. And maybe the wives of my friends.” 

“That’s silly. I’d help you with that for free.” 

“Ah, well then, you can take me out to dinner after we’re done.” 

My jaw drops. Dinner with Harry Styles? 

Is he asking me out on a date? 

“Just as repayment, right?” I ask. 

“For starters,” he smirks, and my panties become uncomfortable as I rub my legs together. “I’ll take these boxes out front.” Bending his knees, he picks up the box of neck pillows with the box of eye compresses on top. Striding through the curtain, he drops the boxes on the floor and immediately starts artfully arranging the merchandise. Occasionally, he brings a pillow to his nose and breathes in deeply. 

Mesmerised, I watch from the door to the store room. After a few minutes, he removes his coat, carefully draping it over the counter, smiling at me as I straighten the bottles of lotion on the table, ensuring that the rosemary mint doesn’t get mixed up with the rosemary thyme. It’s easy to get them confused as the labels are similar. 

“How long did it take you to prepare all of this?” Harry asks, his hand encompassing the entire shop. 

“All year. My dad –” I pause as emotion invades my throat, layering it with sorrow. Finally, I swallow, clearing the grief. “My dad was ill for the last couple of years, so I quit my job to move in and take care of him. I started growing the herbs in his garden. And then I needed something to do with all of the herbs I grew, so I started making soaps and selling them at the local farmer’s market. Demand was swift, and I’ve been expanding the line for the last eight months or so.” 

“That’s amazing!” His face has lit up like the Christmas tree that’s in the corner of the shop, and his grin takes over his entire countenance. “And how’s your dad doing now?” 

I wince. “He actually died in July.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

My watery smile hopefully conveys my gratitude. “He was ready to go. At least that’s what he told me. And I needed a project after his death to keep me busy while I cleaned out the house and prepared to sell it.” 

“Sell it? Why?” 

Moving to the next table, I straighten the bars of soap. Wiping a tear from my eye, I answer his question. “Too many memories. I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, and now I’m the only one left in my immediate family. So when I’m in the house, all I can see are the people no longer with me.” 

“That must be hard.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and I’m startled because I hadn’t realised he’d approached. 

“It’s life. Lucky for me, I have my dreams to keep me going.” 

“Dreams of expanding beyond a popup shop at the holidays?” 

“Something like that,” I nod. 

“Sounds lovely. Listen, I’m done with these shelves, and those over there look pretty good. I, um, straightened them earlier when I was testing the product. Is there a broom so I can sweep up?” 

Astonished, I blink at him. “No. No. No. I draw the line at having a number one pop musician sweep my floor.” 

He giggles, his laugh growing until he’s slapping his knee, his full body moving with glee as he heartily releases his mirth. “So if I were the number one classical musician or number one jazz musician or number one country musician, you’d be okay with me cleaning the floor?”

Seeing the humour in my comment, I laugh along with him. “Okay. Okay. You’ve found me out. Only pop musicians aren’t allowed to sweep up. Everyone else is fair game.” 

Bopping me on the nose, he grins. “Good thing I’m not a number one pop musician tonight. I’m just a customer who is quite taken with your goods.” 

And the way he rakes his eyes over my body lets me know that he’s not talking about the merchandise on the shelves. 

Dammit. Why don’t I keep a pair of spare knickers in my bag in case I run into the handsomest man alive? Because the ones I’m wearing right now are ruined. 

Sticking his head through the curtain and peering into the back, he joyfully exclaims, “There it is!” Seconds later, he’s pushing the broom around the shop floor, and I am both pleased and appalled. 

Reluctant to let him do all the work, I watch him and squirm. Using the broom as a partner, he dances to the music, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes. 

“I remember when you couldn’t dance at all,” I reveal, then clamp my hands over my mouth at my rudeness. 

“Some would say I still can’t.” 

“Screw ‘em.” I grin. “Listen, I’m about to count up the money for a night deposit. Are you planning to pay with cash or credit?” 

Wincing, he bites his lip, resting his arm on top of the broom handle. “Oh yeah. I was having so much fun that I forgot I was here to shop.” He looks around at the merchandise. “You’re taking me out for dinner, right?” One eyebrow raises while the other stays in place. It’s a talent not many have. 

“I believe that was the deal in exchange for your labour.”

“Then let’s eat first. I can tell you about those I need to shop for, and you can decide what would be most fitting for each.” 

“Hmmm…” I tease, “Are you trying to get out of buying products from me?” 

“Nope,” he grins, stepping closer to me. “Trying to let you get to know me more.” 

“Who's to say I don’t already know everything about you?” 

“Ah, I see.” The expression on Harry’s face is smug. “You wanna have a quiz? Find out what exactly you know and don’t know?” 

“Sure,” I smile, “but somehow I’m not sure I trust you. You could easily say all of my answers are wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to contradict you.” 

“Let’s start. What colour are my eyes?” 

“Are you taking the piss? They’re green. That one’s easy ‘cause I can see them.” 

“Okay, okay. You got one right. What colour are my lips?” 

Which of course drags my eyes right to the body part in question. And they look lush. Soft. Slightly chapped, but not enough to keep me from… 

Shit. I’ve gotten lost in staring at his lips. 

“I didn’t hear your answer.” 

My tongue dips out to lick my own lips, and he steps closer, his eyes locked on my tongue. Shaking my head, I dart my gaze back to his eyes, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. Leaning forward, he reaches his arm to my left, and I briefly wonder if he’s going to wrap his arm around my waist and haul me to him for a snogging session. 

Which is when he grabs his coat from the counter. 

“Let’s count the money so you can make your deposit. I’m getting hungry.” 

Really? I'm experiencing a powerful thirst.

Author's note: Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please reblog. I know not everyone reblogs, but it really helps writers out.

READ PART 2 HERE

[shipskicksandgiggles]

I know it's entirely possible that no one cares, but I realized I haven't posted my writing in a minute, so this is a collection of things i've done in the last few months. it's mostly 911, but there's a couple midnight burger entries, and one surprise for some people who know me from my marvel days. thanks for sticking with me y'all, finding joy in my writing again has been so much fun, and i hope you enjoy it too <3

9-1-1 (TV Show)

Second Day, Second Chance, a sequel to The Morning Dove Diner (buddie, 6k words, rated T)

Summary:

While Eddie's first day at Morning Dove goes off without too much issue, his second day, which also happens to be Sunday brunch, proves to be more of a challenge. Add to that, Buck still hasn't warmed up to the idea of someone knew being in the diner, so when messing up a woman's order turns into a confrontation, he didn't expect to have the kind of support that he got. He also doesn't expect the conversation and confessions that followed.

Under His Fingertips (buddie, 3.2k, rated T)

Summary:

It’s not uncommon for Buck to get a new tattoo. It is uncommon for him not to tell anyone, especially Eddie. Buck gets a new tattoo. He doesn’t tell Eddie.

how a square is a rectangle and a rectangle isn’t a square (buck-centric, post-bucktommy pre-buddie, 2.2k, rated G)

Summary:

The conversation that Buck had with Josh would come back to haunt him more than once in the days and weeks following his breakup with Tommy, but it was Eddie who would point out that Buck could have benefitted from some advice he’s given Eddie years prior. Cue a post-breakup research spiral, playing catch up on queer culture, and reflecting on other past conversations.

Picture Imperfect (buddie-ish, 1k, rated G)

Summary:

Eddie barely heard the knock at his door over the sound of Old Time Rock and Roll. He looked through the peep hole, and was surprised to see Buck on the other side. He opened the door, not caring about how ridiculous he looked in just his dress shirt with the collar popped. Buck didn't say anything as he sat down on the couch, nor did he need to. Eddie knew they'd talk eventually, but for a moment, they could just be. The song ended, and the silence lingered. Only then, in the relative peace, could they face their situations.

The Choices We Make (Eddie-centric, some buddie, 304k, rated T)

Summary:

When Eddie's mom's contact pops up on his phone, he doesn't think twice before he answers. Only, she hadn't meant to call him, and he gets to hear things he probably wasn't supposed to.

Yours for the Asking (buddie, bucktommy breakup, 2.8k, rated T)

Summary: Gerrard offering to take Buck under his wing unsettled him more than he expected. Then, when his boyfriend didn’t have the same response, Buck was forced to rethink some things.

Midnight Burger (Podcast)

Shelter In Place (caspar-centric, minor casparava, 1k, rated G)

Summary:

Being from the Midwest, Caspar hadn’t grown up with earthquake drills. He’d grown up where the only real threat in terms of natural disasters were tornadoes. He knew to duck down, protect his neck, stay away from glass. It wasn’t until he moved to California that he knew how to protect himself during an earthquake, and he never forgot how he learned.

The Silence in the Vacuum of Space (casparava, 1.7k, rated G)

Summary:

In the days after Leif disappeared, the diner felt strange, like they were just going through the motions without it meaning anything. Finally, they acknowledge the silence in the vacuum of space.

Parkner

i know, this was a shocker for me too. ellis writing parkner in the year 2025? well, the truth of the matter friends, is that i'd written the last chapter of an unfinished piece a few years ago, but wasn't happy with it, so i marked the fic as finished and figured that was that. then I got a comment from someone telling me they really loved the fic, and, well, I pulled the unfinished chapter from deep in my files and finally put the last chapter on a fic that should have been finished 4 years ago, but better late than never, right? so, incredibly, the last addition to this list, is a completed Moving Van Mistakes

Moving Van Mistakes (parkner, 7.3k, rated T)

Summary:

A week before he moves back home, Harley makes the biggest mistake of his life.

[conindiundrum]

Short story I wrote in like two hours back in 2024 that I’m planning on rewriting. Haha we’ll see about that.

Mila is sitting on a tree branch she’s sat on a hundred times before. It’s next to a lake she’s known her whole life. She’s lived here since she was just two years old and never gets tired of the sights and the smells. Pine and stuff you know. 

There’s a mountain just behind the lake. She knows it well having watched hundreds of sunsets from her current seat. So she knows she’s never seen any other lights up there. Headlights, she decides. They move down, disappearing behind the hill and reappearing in a circular fashion. 

It’s strange, she’s never seen anyone up there, she hadn’t known there was a road. And for some reason all that combined makes her uneasy. She decides to ignore it.

Turning her attention back to the old ipod in her hoodie pocket. It’s blasting music through her earbuds and into her ears. The song was old, her aunt had downloaded it years ago. It’s obnoxious and punky and her absolute favorite.

A while later, the cool night air breezes a dark frizzy hair into her eyes. She shoves it away with her palm with what was probably more force than is necessary. Her fingers tangle into the cord of her ear bud, knocking it out and sending it tumbling into the darkness below her. 

Sighing, she runs her fingers along the cord sticking out of her pocket. Upward, until she finds the divide resting loosely above her left hip. She yanks the wire up until it halts, refusing retrieval. When it doesn’t come up with a few hard pulls, she shifts her weight so she won’t fall. 

The bud found its way into a small gap between branches. The head was turned too wide for it to fit back through. Mila moves one of the small appendages slightly, removing the bud and snapping the branch back into place.

She takes her earlier position carefully. 

A gunshot fires near the lake. Mila jumps, whipping her head around and dropping her earbud again. The pop rings in her ears

She feels frozen, staring at the tree’s body. Whatever happened is on the other side, she doesn’t know if she wants to find out. With tentative hands, she reaches for the trunk. The rhythm of her heartbeat seems to drown out the song still blasting in her left ear. The beats feel like forever, but all too fast at the same time. 

She slides her body over the thick branch she was still straddling, reaching for another. The lake came into view, or rather the dock. Rippling water is just below it. And they were scarily large waves. They move outward and she can clearly imagine what would cause such a shape.

A figure on the dock, male. He seems to stare at nothing with the murder weapon held in his raised hand. Slowly he lowers it, head following suit to stare at the water. 

Mila is shaking, frozen in her half perched position and unsure she’ll ever really leave this spot. 

She slips.

A strangled cry wrenches from her throat. Too loud she realizes laying on the ground below. She pushes herself off the ground and whips her hair around to look at the dock.

He’s gone. And everything is too loud. The hooting owls, the whistling breeze, and the hundreds of crackling sounds reverberate in her now naked ears. Her curls bounce and lash around and it feels like she can’t possibly check any direction fast enough. 

It’s fine, she thinks. He probably ran. He’s probably just as scared as me. 

On shaky legs, she stands, brushing off the leaves and bits of bark sticking to her hoodie. Her shorts, too, need cleaning. She bends over to reach and-

A gunshot. And she felt the wind whir past her. Footsteps thumping toward her and echoing deafeningly in her ears.

She took off into the woods. She felt the small weight disappear from her pocket, and heard the crash as it hit a rock. 

She doesn’t have time to care. Her feet carry her on their own. She can barely think past the darkness and the scratching branches. 

Through the overwhelming buzz of forest chatter she could hear a slight rushing sound. 

The creek. 

She veers left onto the larger rocks towards the creek. Her boot slides on a rock and sends her tumbling down. A gasp wrenches from her throat and her side hits the ground with a thud. Her head hits a rock and she snaps it up fast. Distantly, Mila can hear footsteps approach her.

No, no, no. Vaguely crosses her mind as the stranger comes to a stop.

“You,” He pauses, huffing to catch his breath. Mila’s vision blurs trying to get a better look. “Are really fast.”

A breath fills her lungs, she finds herself facing the barrel of a handgun. 

“Too bad it wasn’t enough.” His thumb pulls the hammer down until it clicks. Mila’s breath catches frantically.

“Wait! Stop I- I don’t- I don’t-” She couldn’t seem to clear her damn mind. “I-”

He cut her off with an over dramatic sigh. “You what? Saw what I did? I gathered that much. Although I had been counting on everyone being asleep at this time of the night. You,” He waved the gun exasperatedly. “Really should be in bed.”

“...It’s like ten o'clock.” Mila can’t help the unimpressed look on her face though it probably wouldn’t help her situation.

“Is it?” His voice went up an octave. “Ah must be the time difference. I did come pretty far for the old man.”

Old man? Her mind races with possibilities. Their small lake town community didn’t have many of the older folks around anymore. Well, not above ground. 

Markus. She finally landed on. It fit, he lived alone and had mentioned something about an estranged grandson coming to visit a couple weeks ago. Mila felt her blood boil, he had looked so happy. 

“You killed him.” She glares.

“Obviously. You’re not the brightest you know. And you have terrible music taste.” He lifted the gun again. “Sorry, it’s nothing personal.” 

Now it might be stupid, and in hindsight if there ever is a hindsight, she’d probably kick herself for this. 

Oh well she’d have to kick him instead. It works. He yelps, instinctively reaching for his shin. Mila’s fingers find a rock. She hurls it at him, nailing his right eyebrow. Mila delivers the final blow right between his legs.

Picking herself up is difficult, but standing over him, she feels proud. 

“That felt personal,” she growls before quickly moving for the creek. Getting lost wasn’t on her list of priorities today but then again, neither was witnessing a murder and getting so many head injuries. Mila follows the stream for fifty yards and veers into the woods on the other side. 

Hide. She can’t help but reason. He knows this place too, if her theories are correct. She doesn’t have much time either. And she thinks she won’t get away this time. He’s angry. Her feet drag and she’s so tired. So am I. 

Markus Young was really old. But he wasn’t bitter, he was never bitter. Mila had known him as long as she could remember. He was the kind of man that would tell you he didn’t need a cake on his lonely birthday and cry when you gave him one anyway. His smiles were always there, and they were always real. 

How someone could hurt him is beyond her, let alone someone he no doubt gave one of his bear hugs.

If he didn’t have that gun. . .

She peers around a pile of large rocks. A cave. Luck was an interesting thing, one moment it was in your favor the next someone was chasing you with a gun.

As she settles into the cool moss in the near pitch darkness, Mila wonders how the hell she attacked him herself and escaped. It was. . . liberating almost. Yes she’s still scared. But maybe he is too. 

Light is pouring into the small opening of her sanctuary. Finally she can find her way home. She stalks carefully through the dewy morning light. The sunrise feels different than it has. Newer. She thought maybe that’s the point.

Slipping in the back door of her home, Mila knows she should probably tell someone. Mom, dad, probably both. But she’ll do that later right now she needs to sleep. 

Her own bed feels too alone, so she climbs in with her sister, Lily. This was a pretty normal thing for them to do, especially on colder mornings.

“Mila.” A sleepy voice interrupts her almost slumber. “Mila.” It says more firmly.

“What?” She drudges.

“Get the door.”

“I just laid down.”

“It’s my bed.”

She sighs, throwing the covers off as far as she can leaving Lily to the biting cold that is their fathers reproach.

“Mila!” Lily shrieks.

Brat, she thinks as she heads for the door.

She’s met with the bright morning light and a man she thinks she knows. But where? There’s a cut above his eyebrow.

“Hi there,” he smiles.

Her eyes widen, and he offers her a green ipod.

“You dropped this.”

[starwritesstuff]

i would do anything for you to love me like i'm an american hero

(Chap 1)

yeah yeah yeah this is a rainbow kitten surprise song title i can't help myself- i did draw quite a bit of inspo from this song anyhooooozzllessss i put this on ao3 but i figure since i be writing stuff here too i'll post it here.

summary: You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.” He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh? ---- You're pathetic and in love with your best friend. How do you love a ghost?

word count: 3,127

rating: this chapter is g rated buuuttt there is eventual smut so i cannot recommend minors reading this fic- also pls brace yourselves for a lotta angst i'm rly gonna PUT THEM THROUGH A BLENDER (insert me rubbing my hands together like some kinda Machiavellian freak)

The first time you meet Leon it’s in a cafe. He’d bumped into you in line. Leon muttered a sheepish apology and you thought it had been downright adorable.

You’d flirted shamelessly with him- how could you not? With looks like that, the near innocent way he had said sorry. He’d just stood there, a bit awkward, and you’d thought- god what a cutie.

After that you had started to see him a lot more frequently at that cafe and, well, you hadn’t been a regular. But you became one since that first interaction.

It’s not for another month that you get the courage to do more than make flirtatious comments- though he’s always a good sport about those.

“Anyone ever told you you’re kind of an awkward guy?” You ask him, sipping on your hot latte. Eyeing him. He startles, turning a very blue gaze your way.

“Ah, yeah.” He laughs, a dry thing, and rubs the back of his neck. “Might have been once or twice.” Oh could he get any more sweet? He reminds you of a puppy.

You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.”

He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh?

The two of you are standing in the lobby, someone shuffling past you to get to the line. Right. You’re in the way.

You turn back to Leon, grinning. “Do you want to come sit with me? Save me from boring reports?” You watch a flush settle along the back of his neck, crawling up to turn the tips of his ears red. You’re so in trouble.

Leon returns your grin with teeth that are slightly crooked. Furthering your deep descent into your crush.

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

If you paced any more you’d likely wear a tread into the carpet.

It had been months, you think, since you heard from Leon. More since you last saw him.You knew he had an unorthodox job. Something dangerous. Leon always returned a little more banged than when he left.

You didn’t expect Leon, who was more or less a sweet, bashful guy, to have a job like that. But he always, always managed to make contact when he was gone. Whatever had happened you just hoped, wished, prayed to what deity would listen that he was okay. That he wasn’t dead. That he’d come back, even if he was banged up.

You force yourself to quit your relentless back and forth. Tea. You wanted- needed some tea. That honey chamomile you’d gotten last week at the store. You had some clover honey pops to go with it, if you could find them. You tap your fingers impatiently on the stove handle, waiting for the kettle to boil. When it does, you ignore the shakiness of your hands as you pour it over two bags. You like your tea strong.

Walking over to your couch, collapse. Curse loudly when you slosh some of that hot tea fresh off the stove on your fingers. You stick your pointer and middle finger in your mouth, wincing at the stinging pain. Gotta turn something on the TV, distract yourself. You settle on The Great British Bake Off. Stupid stuff, but you liked the friendly competition. And you got to see some pretty neat creations.

You settle into the couch, worn and comfy from years of use, like most of the things in your home. What can you say, you liked homey, comfy things. You draw the fuzzy blanket draped over the couch to you. Wrap yourself up. Sip your tea. And watch Paul Hollywood stare with his weird blue eyes.

It’s actually doing a great job of taking your mind off of Leon. British accents and pastries have that effect, you think. The heat kicks on and you take your sweater off, leaving you in your thin camisole. Too hot for blankets, sweaters, and the heat on. You pillow your head on the arm of the couch.

You don’t know what wakes you. But the hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you have this awful feeling of being watched. Your living room was dark, your TV having gone into that energy saving mode it does when it’s on too long. You stay very still, heart pounding. There’s a creak and you know someone is there.

Could be one of two things because honestly, the only person that could access your home was Leon. Or, conversely, a burglar. Murderer. Whatever.

“Leon?” That seems the most obvious choice. You slowly sit up, rubbing gritty sleep from your eyes.

“Yeah.” Comes his husky reply.

“Christ. What time is it?”

“Just after one in the morning.” Soft light floods the room; he’s turned on one of your floor lamps. You shove a hand through your hair. You slept all of four hours probably. Your mouth is fuzzy and you run your tongue over them. Tastes nasty, too. You must’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. You hate doing that.

He comes over, to sit by you on the couch and god he does not look good. He’s got a cut over the bridge of his nose, deep purple coloring under his eyes and his straight brows are hung low, scrunching over his nose.

“So” you start. Stop. Take a drink of cold tea to wet your throat. This was awkward. Your locks had been changed. Did he pick them?

He isn’t looking at you, rather he’s looking at the floor. His hands hang loosely between his knees, elbows planted on his thighs. Leon looks exhausted. You had meant to rage at him a little when you saw him next. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that right now. Not when he looks like this.

“Long trip?” You settle on. Leaning back under your blanket, cradling that cold cup of tea in your hands. Just for something to do.

“Something like that”, he grunts. Opens his mouth, then closes it again. He shakes his head and for a wild moment you’re reminded of a dog shaking its floppy ears. You say nothing, turn your attention back to your tea. It’s tense. You rub your finger along the rim of the cup.

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Leon’s squinting at you now. He looks unsure, like maybe you have the answers. You shrug instead. Your shoulders get stuck up by your ears though, hunching. You force them down.

“If you want.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Leon’s eyes slide over to you. He doesn’t seem familiar to you right now. There’s no boyish light in his eyes, no silly puppy look to his features. He moves with a deliberate slowness, nothing like the eagerness you’re used to. Something’s happened, you know it has.

You clear your throat.

“If you want me to leave, I can go.” Startled you look at him. “No. No, I was just… thinking about if you’d picked my lock.” It was only half of a lie, anyway.

Leon snorts. “Should consider locking the deadbolt. It’s there for a reason.” Ah, right. The deadbolt. You never use. You guess locks on a door handle are probably much easier to get through than a deadbolt.

“Look, I know it’s been awhile.” Leon says, shoving his elbows off his thighs and letting out a long breath. You fidget with your cup some more. “It has.”

You really have no right to feel this way. The two of you are… Best friends. Close, but not close in the ways to warrant this irrational anger you have. You feel almost abandoned. You cringe inwardly at the feeling. Abandoned. Yeah, what are you, some rescue animal dropped off at the shelter?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon’s jaw clench, the muscle fluttering under sallow skin.

You shift under your blanket, eyes bleary, focusing on some faraway point in the living room that you can't really see. You grumble about needing to find your glasses. A few seconds later, Leon hands them to you. You take them, careful to not brush his fingers. You don’t look at him when you quietly murmur your thanks. You wish that he would say something, or you would just open your mouth and say what you feel. Something to relieve the tension in the room.

“I’m surprised to see you. For a while there I wasn’t sure…” You trail off. You don’t want to finish the sentence.

He cracks a smile. It looks worn at the edges, a little unsure. “I wasn’t… I didn’t know if I’d be welcome.” Your shoulders hunch again at that. He probably wouldn’t have been welcome had you known he was going to come here, if you were honest. Ah, have you mentioned you hate this? Things haven’t been weird and tense between the two of you since, well, ever.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know you’re always welcome here.”

“Am I?”

You pick at the blanket. “Of course.” You blow a breath out, blow it up and it stirs the hair off your forehead.

You grab the TV remote, turn it on.

“I was watching The Great British Bake Off.” You say when he doesn’t reply. The two of you sit for awhile. The TV lights flickering over your faces. You don’t know about Leon, but you’re not really watching. Not really, no. You were sneaking glances at him, taking his still stiff posture. How his hands haven’t moved from his thighs. He looks poised to run, you think.

The episode ends. Starts a new one. You think maybe the not talking happening between the two of you is going to drive you crazy. But you don’t open your mouth. Don’t try to pick at this weird shell he’s created, retreated into. You probably should. He’s your best friend. You should want to try to be there for him.

You’re scared. This new version of Leon feels like he doesn’t want to be here. With you. The old Leon would be excitedly telling you about blowing shit up and shyly asking if you wanted to get coffee at that cafe. As if you’d say no, despite the many times the two of you have kept up the tradition. Now he seems to not know what to do with you. How to be here.

You rub your nose. Pull your knees up. Tuck your hair behind your ears. You know you’re fidgeting. You can’t help it. You’ve never felt this- this weird next to him. Okay, maybe weird isn’t the right word. You certainly feel strange around him, you’re not a fool, you know why. But this is a new strangeness. It’s born of an insecurity that you never thought you’d have.

“You don’t… have to stay. You know? I won’t be mad if you have, like, other places you wanna be.” You wonder if that comes out as needy as you feel. Leon turns his gaze to you, something complicated flicking through his eyes. Quick enough that you don’t quite catch it, not quick enough that you don’t notice it and wonder.

“No, no. Sorry. I’m tired.” Leon’s tone gives nothing away. But it sounds like an excuse to your ears. Does he… pity you? Feel obligated to you? To stay? You try to grin at him, like you always do, like you used to. “Sure. Sure, yeah, I imagine. Um, the guest bed is always made up. You know, just in case.” And it had been. It stayed made up since the last time you had left. Leon huffs out a near silent laugh. “Is it?”

“Yeah. You kinda made a habit of crashing here, you know. So I just… kept it. I mean, I wash the sheets and stuff.” You hurry to explain that last part. You’d taken to keeping extras of things around the house for him. Toothbrush, towel, shirts and boxers and socks. It was all very domestic, blah blah blah. Your heart clenches.

Leon shifts in his spot. Toes off his boots. You wrinkle your nose.

“Walking around in my house with your nasty boots, huh” you chide him, teasing. You get a flash of a genuine smile at that. Your heart unclenches. Just a little.

“Sorry” he says. He doesn’t sound very sorry. In fact, you’d say he sounds a little mischievous. Leon holds his boots out to you. “Wanna see how nasty they are?” You squeal, smack at them. “You’re gross, Kennedy.”

He laughs, sets them by the couch. “You’re fond of telling me.”

You raise a brow at him. "Do you have to put them there? You could, I don't know, stick them. On the shoe rack. That is literally right by my door." Leon shrugs.

“Easier to just take them off here.” He teases. But he gets up, sets the boots on the rack. Holds out his hands in a placating gesture. “See? I put them away like a good boy.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle laughter.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a good boy if it came up and slapped you in the face.” You poke at him. “You’re a menace.”

Leon levels you with a kind of look that has your giggles freezing in your throat. Just shy of indecipherable, poorly hidden heat. You hadn’t really thought about the words when they came out, just enjoying the banter with him. You quickly look away. No way were you taking any time to pick apart that look. Adjust your mental position, firmly sticking yourself in the “Leon’s closest friend” category.

“It’s getting a bite late for me,” you say, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “I think I’m going to actually go to bed.” You think you see a flash of disappointment cross his pretty features. But he stands with you, stretching. T-shirt riding up, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of pale skin, toned. Light scars littered amongst moles.

You turn your head away, give Leon a light pat on the shoulder. “See you in the morning? Let’s go to our cafe.”

“Sure, been awhile. D’you think they remember me?”

“Hard to forget, don’t’cha think?”

Leon laughs at that. Does that thing where he awkwardly shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. He needs a haircut, you think. It’s gotten over-long. Makes you think of a little emo boy.

“I’ll wake you when I’m up.” He was saying, jerking you out of your musings.

“No later than 8am, mister.” You warn him. Well aware that Leon was an early riser, no matter how little he slept. Leon puts a warm hand on the top of your head. “I promise, I will not wake you before 8am.” He says with mock solemnity. You suck your teeth in response, moving to knock his hand off your head. Retreat a few steps towards your room.

“Good. See that you don’t. Goodnight, Kennedy.” You call, escaping to your room. Try to calm your racing heart. Leon didn’t often initiate physical contact with you, and that was fine, really you preferred it that way. Because when he does, your brain fizzles out. Nervous system goes haywire.

You climb into bed, thoughts shifting to Leon’s earlier behavior. How tense things had been. It was the first time you felt that uncomfortable with him. The two of you were normally much more cohesive. You had a sneaking suspicion that whatever he’d come back from was different. Different from what he usually dealt with. Though, you know you likely won’t get to know. You generally weren’t privy to specifics with him.

You flip to your side, restless. Drag the covers your head, clutching a pillow close to your chest. And what was that ridiculous reaction earlier? Leon had looked… Hot? Sexy? Wanting? Your traitorous brain supplies. Surely not, not because of someone like you. Sure you flirted with him, had built a silly friendship with that flirtation as the foundation, but it didn’t mean anything. You’re, well, you. And Leon’s Leon. He was… magnetic, a little stupid, a little cheesy, but you’d been drawn to that. And he was pretty- really, you hadn’t seen a man so beautiful. All high cheekbones, full lips, delicate brows. And you weren’t convinced he didn’t use mascara or eyeliner, or something with lashes like those.

 It hurt sometimes, looking at him. 

You weren’t typically an insecure person. You’d even say that, sometimes, you might even be a bit big for your britches. But your friendship (you refuse to call it a relationship) with Leon left you feeling a little inadequate at times. That feeling had crawled into your sternum, made a little nest among your heart and viscera the first time he’d come back from a trip. You wished you could grab it, like it was one of those prickly things that attached themselves to your socks, and pluck it out. But it was there to stay. 

You jerk the covers off your head, the space having gotten hot, humid and somewhat hard to breathe. You roll onto your back, dragging the pillow with you. You wonder what Leon was doing. Was he tossing and turning? Punching his pillow softer, to fit his head? Or had he just conked out, exhausted. Sometimes, when he stayed over, he’d get nightmares. And you’d find his silhouette in your doorway, shyly asking if he could sit with you for a bit. First time he did it you thought you might shit your pants. You had scolded him, told him to make a little noise. That waking up to him just hanging in the doorway like some kinda freaky serial killer was just terrifying. Since then, Leon had always made sure to purposely creak your creaky floorboards, to swing the door open noisily.

Not tonight, though. It was quiet. The overhead fan was the only sound you could hear. It was too quiet, one of those nights that made you wish you had a TV in your room, so you could stick something on. The silence just made your thoughts louder, screaming, ringing in your head. Knowing Leon was just in the other room, yards away, doing whatever it is he does at night, knotted your stomach. Quickened your breath. Made that thing in your chest ache. 

You forcefully wrangle your melancholy thoughts into submission. It was far too late for any more of it, and you needed some semblance of sleep. You just know Leon’s going to wake you precisely at 8am, just to be difficult. 

[meownotgood]

music producer! aki would be such a vibe. I’ve been thinking about this for like a week and I resigned myself to accepting that Aki would probably never be an artist but I love music sm so I will force it by any means! Anyways….

Aki is an extremely loving, devoted and kind soul but he expresses his affection through his actions/acts of service. I don’t think verbally expressing his feelings is his strength. I imagine music being the perfect medium for him to express everything that he feels within without words, utilizing the universal language to reveal the profound emotions that lay dormant within his soul.

I don’t think Aki seeks fame or notoriety so he’d be that one producer behind all your favorite songs but nobody really knows who he is… It’s the allure for me. I can so see him with an underground fanbase that zooms in on celebrity studio pics and you just see Aki’s topknot sticking out and we’re like “THAT’S OUR MAN!” and the girlies make edits of that. There’d be such a sexy mystery surrounding him and who he is. He’d serve us once in a blue moon with the hair down look. Badboy Aki knows what he’s doing FR

I envision him being really active in the underground rock, metal and rap scene. But he’d always give smaller artists a chance. He’d definitely be versatile too like don’t act like he ain’t produce ur favorite pop song. He’s just skilled like that 💋

Winter instrumental album in Hokkaido that gets sampled in every song like???? Hair down, graphic t, (key word) BOYFRIEND jeans, black converse, silver earrings and rings but without the t shirt, jeans and converse is such a lewk

Concert date, studio date, him making you songs, singing to you at night, playing guitar to you and other devious business *wink*

I rest my case.

I GET IT I SEE IIIIIITTTTTTTTTTT

I always think about what kind of music aki would listen to, I think he likes softer stuff but he's into some rock as well. he really likes anything as long as it has a good sound to it. gaaaah and aki making music to express how he feels is such a perfect idea I love it so much, I think it really does fit!!!

as a music producer, he's pretty talented and his work is really recognizable. he's been making music ever since he was younger; he got super into it because it was somewhat of a coping mechanism after he lost his family. he gets hired often and he has a hard time turning down any job because he wants to experience as much as he can. he'll make beats for any genre of music, in any sort of style, but he really likes when he gets to make something sweeter, something that's more true to himself.

when he makes the rare original song, it's instantly a hit — not in the way that it's super popular but more like it resonates with a lot of people immediately. he rarely sings or adds vocals to his music (he prefers to use other people's vocals) but when he does... whew.....

he's kind of elusive cause he doesn't go to a lot of parties or meetups and tends to keep to himself. he's well respected by everyone but no-one in the industry really knows the real him or anything about his personal life. they know some tidbits, but not enough to really call aki a friend. I'm thinking of aki who has his hair half-up and wears casual band tees and has his ears all pierced... maybe some other piercings too... perhaps lip piercing or eyebrow piercing... GAH

you see him play in person at a set once and you're just like... wow. sometimes he djs or plays guitar for local events and he rarely talks to anyone there but he's super good at what he does and always seems so focused. you're pretty intimidated by him, in all honesty, but he's actually really kind once you get the chance to talk to him. you catch him while he's having a smoke outside the building, you compliment his playing and he says thank you, he's glad you enjoyed it.

omg thinking about his social media... he definitely has a faceless pfp and literally never posts pictures of himself so the rare pictures of him are just ones that other artists have uploaded when they took selfies with him. he never posts anything personal either, his posts are just so business-y and serious lolol

boyfriend music artist aki who will turn and smile at you when you're watching him from backstage... who not-so-subtly writes songs about you... who's a little shy when it comes to his singing voice but he'll sing you to sleep any time you ask him... who will have you feature as background vocals in his latest song and make everyone wonder who's voice it was..... he's intimidating to everyone else but to you he's the absolute sweetest

[somethingdeficient]

Music

Another post!!! Totally didn't forget we hadda write a bunch of these looooong and interesting blog things and not just silly little posts...

ANYWHO-

I was rhell unsure as to what I was gonna write for this post, but as I was listening to music while doing some other school work, I was like:

"Yeah, dah go work!"

So this is my little rant on Music :3

First and foremost, I doh understand how people does judge people based on the type of music they does listen too...Like I get not liking a certain genre of music or a certain artiste, but COME ON&#*$(@

Like nobody is forcing you, well for the most part, to listen what they listen to, so WHY GIVE A FLYING FOOT!?!?!

Sighhhhhh

This just has me thinking about myself and the music I like and how I really got into liking it. Now, growing up where I grew up things were a bit on the weird side. My parents were never eccentric quite like my extended family, so while yes, I did hear things like Reggae or Bhajans or even foreign Pop music growing up in the background, I never found music I would consider me. It felt quite ostracizing if ah being honest, you know, not being able to vibe with the kids my age, or the cousins and aunts or uncles in the family.

It was in primary school, around when I was in Standard 5, when I really sought out what kinda music I would be into and be proud to say I was into. Now before anything, I'd say that I grew up on the internet, meaning, it was probably what influenced my taste overall. Now this could be considered a bad thing, but I'd like to say it opened by horizons on varying things. I got into watching fan-made music videos, comic dubs and animation memes, which got me to hear music that was foreign (it was mostly american music loooool).

One day, while having lunch with a one of those kinda teacher teachers (i think is OJT???), we talked about out music tastes. At that point I had never really figured out any particular genre I was really into, so I said a song by one of the bands my brother was listening too ---> (WHICH WAS CENTURIES BY FALL OUT BOY; MY EMO ARC HAD BEEN LONG PROPHESIED) I thought it was cool to say something I had never seen locally, but all I got from her was a "ehHh" kinda reaction, which made me feel kinda awkward about it. So, after the topic was never really brought up again, I took it upon myself to find radio songs and download the ones I liked or what I had heard in those youtube videos. (mostly those pop songs that were heard on the radio anyways)

(EXAMPLES;)

Havana - Camilla Cabello

Closer - The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey

Attention - Charlie Puth

Roar - Katy Perry

Shape of You - Ed Sheeran

I still would give a lil head bop to songs now and again, but there weren't any songs that were hummable or have the ability to be stuck in my head at inconvenient times of my life. (oddly specific, I know, but you know what I mean...)

So, flashforward to 2018, where lil ole me is transitioning from primary to secondary school. Here, I was lead down the rabbit-hole of foreign music, which I think more or less altered my personality and also possibly made a very odd first impression to my fellow classmates. Thus began my journey into the infamous K-POP.

RIght IRGHT i know wha yuh gonan say, but zip it, we not judging anyone right now. please and thank yew.

Anywho, who would have thought this pipeline would have started and ended where it is today... So, with the glorious Jungkook in my ear, I started my journey. Obviously, I went back and tried out Western music and by actually listening to it, I found songs I liked and even bands. With this new found knowledge, and my mind expanded to listen to everything, I started my journey which lead me into listening to things I would have never associated myself with in the past. (Best believe when Spotify was made available, I enjoyed the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks outta it!!!)

(GENRE EXAMPLES;)

Rock

Musicals

Metal

Indie

Hyperpop

So yeah, I'm not into any one genre of music now, I just listen to what sounds good, and yeah by that, I mean I don't even really bother with lyrics if it sounds good.

Not sure if what im typing up right now is making and sense and is of any interest to anybody, but whatever... Google says the shortest amount of words need in a blog is about 300 and this surpasses that, so I think I'll leave this as is. - A

[aung-khant-kyaw]

Do toxic fans in some online spaces make it difficult to become or identify as a fan?

Let’s talk about something that’s been on my mind for a while: fandoms. They can be such beautiful spaces, filled with creativity, connection, and passion. But let’s be real—sometimes they can be really toxic, and that toxicity can make it hard for people (like me) to even want to call themselves fans.

Take anime, for example. I’ve loved anime for as long as I can remember. I even learned Japanese because I wanted to experience anime and anime songs without relying on subtitles. It was a labor of love, something that made me feel closer to the stories and characters I admired. But, here’s the thing—I struggle to call myself an otaku or anime fan. Why? Because the terms "otaku" and "weeb" have such a reputation. The image of an anime fan in mainstream culture is often someone who’s socially awkward, obsessive, or even downright creepy. And while I know that’s not fair or true for everyone, it still makes me hesitate to identify as one.

It’s not just about the labels, though. It’s also about the online spaces where these fandoms exist. Spend any time in the comments section of a popular anime discussion post, and you’ll see gatekeeping in full force. People arguing about whether you’re a "real fan" if you only watch the mainstream stuff like Attack on Titan or My Hero Academia. Others tearing apart anyone who prefers dubs over subs. It’s exhausting. Like, why does everything have to be a competition?

And then there’s K-pop. I never even gave myself the chance to get into it. The fandom seemed so overwhelming and, frankly, toxic. Every time I’d see K-pop trending on social media, it was either because fans were clashing with each other, dragging another fandom, or dogpiling someone for having an opinion they didn’t agree with. It’s not that I don’t like the music—I’ve listened to BTS, BLACKPINK, and a few others, and I genuinely enjoy their work. But the thought of engaging with the fandom? Nope. Hard pass.

I think what makes it worse is how these toxic fans overshadow all the amazing, positive things fandoms can do. I mean, fandoms have the power to create incredible art, music, and stories. They raise money for charities, organize events, and build communities where people can feel seen and heard. But the loud, toxic minority often drowns out the good.

Social media definitely plays a role in amplifying this toxicity. Platforms like Twitter and TikTok make it so easy for arguments to spiral out of control. And let’s not forget cancel culture. One wrong opinion or an innocent mistake, and suddenly, you’re being dogpiled by hundreds of strangers who don’t even know you. It’s no wonder people feel scared to express their love for something publicly.

So, where does that leave fans like me? The ones who love something but feel like we have to enjoy it quietly to avoid the drama? It’s a weird, lonely space to be in. You want to connect with others who share your passion, but you don’t want to deal with the toxicity that often comes with it. It’s like walking a tightrope—you want to be close enough to the fandom to feel the love and excitement but far enough away to avoid the chaos.

I think the real issue is that toxic fans gatekeep fandoms, turning them into exclusive clubs where only the "right kind" of fan is welcome. They make people feel like they have to prove their love or knowledge to belong, which is so messed up. Being a fan should be about joy, not judgment. Whether you’re a casual listener of K-pop or someone who’s watched every anime on MyAnimeList, your love for something is valid. No one has the right to tell you otherwise.

For me, I’ve decided to keep my fandom experience personal. I’ll enjoy anime in my own way—listening to the soundtracks, watching my favorite shows, and maybe even writing about them (like now!). As for K-pop, I’ll stick to being an admirer from afar. And that’s okay. You don’t have to engage with a fandom to love something.

If you’re reading this and feeling the same way, just know you’re not alone. Toxic fans don’t define what it means to be a fan. You get to decide what that looks like for you. Whether it’s quietly enjoying something on your own or finding a smaller, more supportive community, your love for what you’re a fan of is what truly matters.

Let’s all try to be kinder, yeah? The world (and the internet) could use a little less gatekeeping and a lot more positivity.

References

Princen, G., 2023. Otaku culture. [online] Yokogao Magazine. Available at: https://www.yokogaomag.com/editorial/otaku-culture [Accessed 25 November 2024].

Ponthieux, T., 2023. Weeb vs. Otaku: What's the difference? [online] Japan Crate Blog. Available at: https://japancrate.com/blogs/news/weeb-vs-otaku-whats-the-difference?srsltid=AfmBOopKyhSKXe2TTOJFuBPQrkt-lTccvA-DB8mZKiQ32xQC9l2KxAZB [Accessed 25 November 2024].

Novella, F., 2023. The My Hero Academia fandom and its problems. [online] The Student Voice Network. Available at: https://thestudentvoicenetwork.com/830/opinion/the-my-hero-academia-fandom-and-its-problems/ [Accessed 25 November 2024].

Tay, A., 2022. On BTS, K-pop, and toxic fan culture. [online] Campus Times. Available at: https://www.campustimes.org/2022/10/30/on-bts-k-pop-and-toxic-fan-culture/ [Accessed 25 November 2024].

Haasch, P., 2021. Online mob stan Twitter: Harassment problem in fandom music fan culture. [online] Business Insider. Available at: https://www.businessinsider.com/online-mob-stan-twitter-harassment-problem-fandom-music-fan-2021-7 [Accessed 25 November 2024].

Novella, F., 2023. Gatekeeping: What it is and its impact. [online] The Student Voice Network. Available at: https://thestudentvoicenetwork.com/643/opinion/gatekeeping-what-it-is-and-its-impact/ [Accessed 25 November 2024].

[rainydawgradioblog]

“weekly rotation” gems from me, my roommates, and my boyfriend

a couple months ago, my boyfriend and i decided to start playlists on spotify with our “weekly rotations,” about 5-10 songs that we were totally obsessed with at the moment and couldn’t stop playing. we shared the playlists with each other, and it’s been the highlight of my week to pop on a playlist of new songs that i can talk about with him later. eventually, we roped two of my roommates into it too, and now our music-sharing collective has grown to epic proportions. i highly reccomend this practice to anyone who wants to get to know more music and see what their friends are listening to (besides a good old-fashioned spotify listening activity stalk) because it’s seriously so much fun. and if you decide to run and make your own weekly rotation to share, here’s a brief list of some gems from the rotations of my dear buddies, including my favorites, most revolutionary discoveries, and rediscoveries, for your consideration. 

john:

as my original weekly rotation partner, john has provided me with a lot of content, and he has not disappointed. here’s my top four.

1: “doomsday” - MF DOOM 

i’ll never forget the first time i heard MF DOOM in the back of my friend’s car in high school. my brain chemistry has never been the same again. what a genius, fun track this is. the backing track is so GROOVY!!!!!

2: “humbug mountain song” - fruit bats

this song makes me feel like an epic cowboy riding out into the sunset. what more needs to be said? 

3: “who knows where the time goes?” - fairport convention 

fairport convention has such a flawless folk-rock sound that provides the perfect background music for everyday listening. this song is so simple and beautiful, as they reflect on the passage of time with a calm acceptance that invites you to sit back and reflect, not a care in the world. 

4: “long road ahead” - maybel

such beautiful vocals and harmonies. my favorite line, and namesake of the song, is “it’s a long road ahead/ but i know somewhere beyond the bend there’s peace,” which is a message i think all of us need to hear once in a while. or often. the soft guitar and harmonies make this a dreamy, hopeful track that soothes and inspires. 

thea: 

100% convinced me to force my roommates to make weekly rotations when she showed me the first song and genuinely changed my life. 

1: “it’s really raining” - alison sudol

i can’t ever get enough of this song. it has the perfect instrumental and lyrics, simplistic enough to be the backing track to anything but engaging enough to make me want to do a little dance or maybe cry (in the rain, of course). also, you’ve got to stick this one out to the end, because the last verse/bridge/chorus (depending on how you look at it) is one of the most sonically satisfying moments in recent music. 

2: “tile by tile” - alvvays

i’ve been getting way more into alvvays recently. i think their sound is so addictive, and this song is a great representation of some of what they do best. “am i still giving off the wrong impression? /i shouldn’t have ever dialed you up/ and i’m still lifting all your old expressions/ i shouldn’t have ever been calling it love” are phenomenal lyrics to begin with, and then they get combined with fabulous instrumentation and vocals and quickly it beomes a 30 seconds that i haven’t stopped thinking about for days. 

3: “twilight” - elliot smith 

there really isn’t an elliot smith song that i don’t like. and, like most of his discography, this song is a gut punch. relating struggles with love and addiction, and longing to love outside of a context of being an addict, this song is devastating and poignant. also, the chirping crickets that end the song are a perfect touch. it really does sound like laying outside on the ground at twilight, staring up at the sky. 

4: “valentine” - fiona apple

this makes the second time within the last month that valentine has been praised on this blog. and it shouldn’t be any other way! the lyricism on this track, and everything that fiona apple has ever written, is inexplicably amazing. fiona apple, the woman you are. 

cam:

i adore cam’s music taste because it’s just so her. which means nothing to you guys, because you have no clue who she is. but trust. it’s awesome. 

“morning pages” - the japanese house, muna

“morning pages” is such a beautiful, romantic, heart-wrenching portrait of a relationship. the lyrics depict the ebb and flow of a relationship that may waver, but “it always comes back to her/ you always come back to her.” the love that the song describes is so raw and gorgeous. plus i LOVE the japanese house’s production. it’ll do it for me every time. 

“emily” - jamie scott

this song is just so damn cute. the lyrics read like a hand-written love letter that got crumpled up and thrown to the side because he was too nervous to send it. the simple guitar and plaintive vocals are the perfect medium, and pick up as he describes the memories of their relationship in the perfect sonic encapsulation of heartbreaking nostalgia. 

“thick skull (re: julien baker)” - paramore, julien baker

i mean come on. paramore AND julien baker??? cam knows the way to my heart. julien baker was the perfect feature on this track-the lyrics are up her alley and she delivers them incredibly. the buildup on this song is perfectly paced and really gets you by the end of it. 

“tin lover” - the paper kites 

thrilled to see some paper kites representation. despite loving this band, i had actually never heard this song, and it is fantastic. it has only eight short lines, but it is the perfect mellow, watch the raindrops roll down the windows type of vibe. 

honorary mention: 

i also have another roommate!!! and don’t worry, contrary to what you may think up to this point, we don’t hate her OR her music taste. she just has apple music. (booooooo)(jk, i had apple music for a while. stop the apple music hate). regardless, jess has no weekly rotation, but she did show me an incredible song recently which i’ll add to this collection. 

“leach” - cryogeyser

i adore the way that all the elements of this song are produced and put together. a perfect breakup song, the instrumentation and vocals create an anxious, almost eerie feeling that captures the stunned, lost breakup feeling. also, “i wish that i had never met you/ things would be different!!!!” is 100% the most screamable lyric on this entire list. 

that's all my favorites! i hope you find a new song or two from this awesome list. and for anyone who's interested, i'll link my own rotation down below. happy listening, and

STAY COOL!!!

k-murph :)

[vukovich]

whole vibe of the song "evelene" by quinn christophersen. especially the lines "I watch your hair blend in with the sky" and "You know my story same as yours"

Note: Anon, you MUST be an Eagles in Truro reader. The music video for this song could be the end credits title. It's fucking perfect, and I am so grateful to you for sending it to me. If, in fact, you are an EiT reader, and to anyone else who is, please read this story through the lens of "If Draco had taken the ICW plea deal."

The Sky in St Petersburg

Malfoy was a "leaner", as Aunt Petunia would have said. Always leaning a shoulder against the wall, or a hip against a desk, or a heel hiked up against his hamstring, foot hooked on the railing of the stairs behind the White Wyvern.

As if the world had been built so he didn't have to use his spine. So far as Harry could tell, Malfoy had proved that to be true. He'd gotten a position with the Aurors as part of some post-war ICW shenanigans. Probably a token Auror trainee to make Kingsley look merciful. He didn't bother to exert himself.

--

Potter was "a stick up a stick's arse", as Pansy would have said. If there was a backrest, he didn't use it. If there were stairs, he took them. If there was a chair, he would only seat his arse in it if Weasley or Robards told him to.

As if the world was a spring-loaded trap. So far as Draco could tell, that may very well have been true. He'd been on the front page of the Prophet for some innocent steamroom shenanigans. Probably a reporter setting him up. But he didn't bother to sue for defamation.

--

In his second year, about six months after graduating from training, Draco got in trouble with the DMLE uniform tailor, because the shoulders of his robes were pink with plaster dust from leaning against walls on stakeouts. The wool was fuzzy where it had been rubbed against brick. He moved through Ministry Headquarters like a tiger luxuriating in its zoo enclosure out of spite toward the Zoological Association.

Harry had to have his Ministry-issued boots resoled every six months. On the third anniversary of his joining the force, the DMLE cobbler presented him with erosion-charmed boots. He said they'd been embedded with the spells that Swiss wizards used to prevent landslides. It felt like wearing a mouthguard on his feet, and he de-spelled them himself.

--

Robards issued Draco a citation for not lacing his boots up past the ankles. Harry laced his so tightly that he snapped a shoelace every three weeks.

--

Draco lived at 80%. He didn't run, he jogged, but the leggy bastard was still the fastest Auror on foot. He lifted weights until he was bored, not until he was exhausted. And in duels, he didn't spar. He simply won, then leaned against the wall and waited.

Harry lived at 120%. He tried to keep pace with man a head taller than him. He increased the gravity when he used the training gym. He avoided the sparring mats.

--

Over the years, Draco's apathy gained them informants. Harry's posture blew their cover.

--

Some of Draco's slouching was due to his height. He'd stood at his full height twice, and found that the public had the same reaction to a tall Death Eater as they did to a tall Auror.

If Harry slouched, he was shorter than Hermione.

--

Draco didn't look like he touched the ground when he ran. Gravel practically sighed as he sprinted down the alley.

It churned underfoot as Harry raced behind him, wand drawn.

Draco wouldn't draw his wand until the absolute last second, and when he did, it would snap to the end of his loose-limbed arm, fell its quarry, and be tucked away by the time the body hit the ground.

Harry clutched his wand, pointed over Draco's shoulder, and covered him as he ran.

--

Harry pushed Draco's hand away, careful of the lit cigarette.

"Potter," Draco said, pulling one from a pack for himself, "you can't Polyjuice away your Proper Police Posture." He popped the "p"s as if ergonomics had been in the training manual. "At least if you're smoking while looking suspicious, our suspect will just assume you're sneaking a fag behind your wife's back."

Harry glared at him for a long... long... moment, then took the cigarette. "So what if I did?"

Draco shrugged. "Only women who know their husbands smoke tell them not to."

Draco stood up straight to light his cigarette, and Harry leaned one shoulder against the light pole next to him while he brought his to his lips.

The street light above them was a new kind that shone a bright, white LED beam down in a perfect cone. Draco's hair melded with it, and Harry wondered how a person could be luminescent.

--

Draco sat in the alley behind the White Wyvern, arse on the gravel, back against the bricks. He'd fought to stay awake through the first ten hours of their stakeout. Potter had paced the entire time.

Harry watched the last window on the block go dark, and he sighed. His feet ached. His whole body was tired.

Draco patted the ground. With another sigh, Harry sat down next to him, drew his boots close, and wrapped his robes around himself.

Harry leaned a shoulder against Draco's arm. Draco braced himself to support him. Harry rested his cheek on Draco's shoulder. Draco set his hand against the pavement.

Slowly, Harry relaxed. Draco bore their weight, finally finding a reason to hold himself upright.

It was a new moon, and through the buildings, a sliver of night sky was visible. Where it met Harry's hair, they dissolved into each other, and Draco wondered how a person could simply wear the constellations.

[gunsli-01]

Okay, you know what I'm gonna say it- I am personally mad about the Haruka verdict this trial like on a very personal level and I'm gonna explain why. I feel like I need to preface this with I don't really like getting personal that often online, but I feel like people won't understand my point on this without me explaining myself.

As no one may know, because I don't get personal often on my blog outside of rare occasions, I had a somewhat similar circumstance to Haruka coming up. During my upbringing I was basically treated as defective from the start. However, even though I recognized this within his first trial song I wasn't like oh vote him innocent. In fact, when I saw Weakness, I believed he should've been voted Guilty, but he was already Innocent at that time. Just because of what Weakness centered around. So, this isn't just a case of oh I relate so I won't be critical. Because the more I relate to something the more critical I am likely to be. Eh-hem Mikoto sorry weird cough there.

So, tragic anime-esque backstory time I suppose which is not tragic or anime-esque since things like this happen all the time and continue to. So, I believe people should really stop this weird belief that abuse such as this can only happen in fiction then balking when they find out oh people just really be out here like this. I'm the youngest and last daughter of an incredibly self-centered woman. Since she had a daughter one year before me, she did not want a second one. She would tell me multiple times in my life that she really wanted a son not another girl. Stating the reason behind that desire was because sons tend to be more loyal to their moms (momma boys) and girls their dads (daddy girls).

Even went out of her way to give me my legal name just to later give me the nickname Lee. This was a failure of a plan because in the US you don't plan a nickname, it either chooses you when you come to age like a rite of passage, people just randomly start calling you something in your family and it sticks, or you actively pick one for yourself. What this did do is actively fuck me over in small social ways repeatedly since my legal name is still not even considered a real name due to its spelling and has zero meaning since if you go back to point one it is not a recognized name. If I looked it up right now google might tell me to fuck myself. I looked it up and Google told me I spelled it wrong. Been alive 27 years and still can't spell my own fucking name right I suppose.

This has caused some of my documents to be wrong cause she just didn't bother to tell me or anyone else for that matter how it was legally spelt until I was out of high school. Don't worry there's a great excuse for this in her own words, she was just taking a "hiatus" from parenting that included dropping off the face of the earth and popping back up randomly to force me to get braces because my teeth were just too crooked, missing every birthday I had but at least calling my sister on most of hers even showing up unannounced a few times for my sister's. Her birthday is a month before mine by the way. So, that was super fun, no way one could take that personally at all. Just to then reemerge when I was sixteen to be a parent again and explain it like she was taking a break from writing a manga. It's incredibly funny cause she just assumed I wouldn't know the meaning of that word, but I'd seen it a lot by that point so lol.

All that to say when I saw Haruka's second trial video it recontextualized a lot. Again, I already thought he should be voted Guilty on Weakness alone. Him being weak didn't really explain to me why he was killing any of the things he clearly did in that video. I just thought he was doing it just because fuck it's Tuesday why not. Like his first mv made it pretty clear he was killing animals and people. Also, that the person could have been a sibling. Like I'd been talking to friends about how he did that for a year now.

So, seeing it shown more blatantly was not like a oh whoa that's horrible because I'd gathered that already. There was nothing new to me in Haruka and Yuno's videos to be honest. I was actually very annoyed with Yuno's mv in a "Okay, tell me something I don't know way!" Like all of this is old news come on. So, really didn't rattle me in my core. I don't really think Mu's will shock me at all either but I'm dying when I love you comes out. I can feel it in my bones Mahiru is gonna be on some shit.

So, with Haruka I was like ah okay yeah, no innocent that's a failure in parenting. He killed a lot of things though hm unfortunate where was his caretaker when he was doing that? Also why is there an isolation room in his home? Like bro I can recognize someone's individual behavior is wrong and then consider the circumstances/environmental factors that may have led to that course of action. That is kind of something everyone is very much capable of doing. I can even just detach myself from my emotional sentiments on the issue as a whole and go, "Well wrong is wrong so not a big deal if he's voted Guilty he did kill someone after all."

However, even doing that I was just like this is still a stupid way to vote. Not just because having Haruka undergo something like this could very well be retraumatizing but as I've said before if his mom using negative reinforcement did not work why would it work here? He seems to actively respond better to positive reinforcement given his protectiveness of Mu and how he's been picking up words more through being patiently taught within Milgram.

However, Milgram isn't about rehabilitation, that's not the purpose but if I have a choice between rehabilitating and demonizing, I think the former should be chosen. Of course, for any progress to be made there are times when people must be told their actions were wrong. I think given Futa's second trial a Guilty verdict the first one was a good choice. I just don't think that sort of firm punishment is necessary in Haruka's case. Since we've gotten a great illustration of how he responds to negative reinforcement in general.

I feel like people greatly underestimate what being in an accepting, positive environment can do for someone mentally and the damage that being in a place the exact opposite of that can cause a person. How it affects their confidence, impacts the lengths they'll go to get attention, and how they view positive and negative attention overall. I hope this verdict doesn't negatively impact Haruka too much but as someone with those sorts of experiences I can see how this might just cause him to regress.

Well, didn't think I'd say this when the second trials started but at least he has Mu still hopefully...