#Plus I want people to get more creative if they wanna make the soup bad

[giggles-and-freckles]

my fic masterlist

decided to do this for my own sake more than anyone else’s because sometimes I have to make sure the idea I get at 3am isn’t one I’ve already written hehe. anyway, a lot of these are on my ao3, but I’m also going to try and track down some of my TuMbLr-eXcLuSiVe fics, too. I’ll update this as often as I remember (so, uhhh–)

In-Progress: Not On A Consistent Updating Schedule Bc Abi is a Mess ™

midst of the mind – Anakin has always had a pretty good understanding of his feelings, even if he's not particularly disciplined in acting on them. But things surrounding the Chancellor seem to be off and Anakin's determined to get to the bottom of it. With a little help from his friends.(or: fix-it ROTS fic where Ani, Obi, and Padmé take down the Chancellor one fake smile and late-night tea party at a time)

evermore – "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam. (or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?) (unrelated one-shots based on taylor swift songs ha)

filling the gaps – after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

Obi-Wan & Ahsoka: Best Father-Daughter Duo In The Galaxy According To Me (because let’s be honest...that’s why I’m here) (tagged: #obi & soka)

filling the gaps – *in-progress multi-chapter* after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

playing catch – Ahsoka finds an old friend on Tatooine and has lots of questions. they cry a lot. obi-wan tells some white lies. they get the hugs they need. (Obi-Wan & Ahsoka reunite on Tatooine)

all too young – during a bout of insomnia while on Onderon, Ahsoka gets some advice and insight about her Master. (or Obi-Wan hears Ahsoka laugh for the first time and they get to have a snuggle and he absolutely spends the entire next day training the rebels trying not to cry thinking about it every dang time he sees her.)

hologram heart-to-hearts – we see Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have a conversation via hologram in the final season of tcw, but what if there had been...more?(three-parter) (basically Obi and Soka keep in touch after she leaves the Order and there’s...a lot of emotions involved)

little love – a sort of follow-up to hologram heart-to hearts; Ahsoka sticks her nose into the wrong Alliance meeting and discovers a certain Jedi is alive and on Tatooine of all places, so she places a long-distance call.

bad days – Ahsoka tries to squeeze out of her Grand Master exactly what happened on Mortis. and, as always, Obi-Wan is powerless to deny her anything, no matter how painful that truth may be.

sleeping with monsters – Ahsoka is having a hard time sleeping after her time on Felucia, so Obi-Wan offers a solution.

chance meeting – Obi-Wan is up late researching for his Master in the archives when a certain sneeze–and pair of big blue eyes–catch his attention.

‘drooping eyelids’ prompt fill – Ahsoka and Obi-Wan have a conversation about attachment while Anakin’s missing. they (plus Anakin) get some platonic cuddles.

‘dancing’ prompt fill – they attend a senatorial gala without Anakin because he’s feeling grumpy grump after deception arc fall-out. Obi realises that there are still things to be thankful for. 

sorrow – Ahsoka feels the full weight of loss as she clutches her Grand Master’s dead body. (deception arc FEELS!!!!)

‘I do not pretend to set people right, but I do see they are often wrong’ prompt fill – *trigger warning: death of children; Obi comforts Ahsoka after they witness an atrocity of the highest order.

the silence between — Ahsoka gets assigned to the 212th as her Master recovers. Unwanted quality time with her Grand Master doesn’t go as planned.

untitled ‘Obi & Ani role reversal au’ ficlet — Padawan Obi-Wan pays a visit to his best pal Ahsoka in the crèche.

‘falling asleep on each other’s shoulder’ prompt fill – the summary says it all. fluff!

'I don’t wanna die’ – Obi-Wan comforts Ahsoka in her pain. *tw: implied major character death

‘I made tea’ – Anakin is off-world so it’s up to Obi-Wan to take care of his sick grand-padawan.

sorry for the soup – post-deception arc. Ahsoka stops by Obi-Wan’s quarters to check-in.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: The Early Years (tagged: #obi & ani)

figuring it out – Anakin learns waking Obi-Wan up can sometimes be a good thing and Obi-Wan learns that maybe everything's going to be okay. (padawan!ani & new dad knight!kenobi)

if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more – Anakin overhears a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear and lashes out in response. lots of hurt is uncovered and Obi-Wan hears some hard truths from his Padawan. angst, angst, angst...but with a hug.

reading lessons – the team takes a trip to the archives to find some reading material. Anakin is adorably insecure.

cold – Obi-Wan and Anakin have their first solo mission, but in typical Kenobi & Skywalker fashion, it does not go as planned. Exasperated Obi-Wan and Won't-Shut-Up Anakin are put to the test by deep space and a completely out-of-fuel ship. (or some more fluff where padawan!ani and new knight!kenobi get to try and figure out how the heck this master-padawan thing WORKS. hint: it's not easy!)

playing hooky – angel baby Anakin breaks Obi-Wan's heart and it's not for the last time...womp wooooomp.

like you – sweet, angel baby Ani gives himself a haircut and Obi-Wan deals with the aftermath. (I’m copying and pasting most of these summaries directly from ao3 and cracking up because I called Anakin a sweet angel baby in two in a ROW hahah)

fun? – the Jedi Council gives Obi-Wan his newest orders as a young Jedi Knight and he struggles to understand them. he was instructed to take his new Padawan and...have...fun?

go away/please stay – Obi-Wan has been disappearing for solo missions more and more often and Anakin's starting to wonder if it's more than just on request of the Council. (or: can you say TEEN ANGST!)

‘forehead kisses’ prompt fill – Anakin stumbles upon his Master having quite the nightmare, so he handles it the way his mom always handled his own nightmares. with patience and affection.

unnamed NAP TIME fic – Obi-Wan gets home from a solo mission early to find his bed occupied.

‘sweets’ prompt fill – Anakin gets a little ambitious with his choco-ball indulgence.

‘fuzzy socks’ prompt fill – years after arriving at the Temple, Anakin still hasn’t quite adjusted to the cold. Obi-Wan gets him a gift to help. (really just an excuse for some obi ani banter)

‘snowball fight’ prompt fill – Anakin takes his boredom to the next level, much to his Master’s chagrin.

untitled Anakin sickfic bc I’m not feeling very creative right now – the team goes on a mission but Anakin gets sick. Obi-Wan is ultimate mother hen and Anakin makes an observation.

got germs – sickficlet where both of our best boys are sick.

you’re okay – just some classic protective parent!Obi-Wan and teenaged son!Anakin post disaster.

‘you lied to me’ – angstpril day 13. Anakin really wants to go to Ilum and make his lightsaber...but is met with disappointment.

random sickfic – because we all know Anakin is the most annoying sick person in the world.

don’t struggle – the ship is crashing, as usual. but this time, Anakin’s seatbelt is stuck. *tw: implied major character deaths

relic – sith!Obi au. *tw: major character death

aspectabund – Anakin’s eyes betray him and his Master.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: Brotp But Also Idiots Who Don’t Know How To Communicate (still tagged #obi & ani)

define ‘attachment’ – while the dads esteemed Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker wait for Ahsoka to wake up, they talk about attachment, worry, and that time Ani caused an accidental security breech at the Temple.

favourites – Obi-Wan has been tasked with telling Anakin of his special assignment to keep an eye on the Chancellor, but he gets sappy and sentimental in the process because these conversations are hard.

after all these years – Obi-Wan tries to talk to Anakin, but it doesn't go well. does this sound familiar OR WHAT? (post-decpetion arc angst)

brilliant – Anakin is having a difficult time adjusting to his new mechno-arm for one very specific reason. (the boys communicate properly in this one and even get a hug as a treat!)

sober words said aloud – Anakin's meeting with the Council is interrupted by his highly intoxicated–and wildly affectionate–Master. (crack fic turned fluff)

‘you’ve been crying, I can tell’ prompt fill – Anakin makes the mistake of checking in on his Master after a particularly grueling mission. it doesn’t go well. (or: Obi-Wan loses his sh!t)

going somewhere? – Obi-Wan catches Anakin on his way out for a midnight rendezvous with a certain Senator. Anakin makes a quick decision and chooses Obi-Wan. sweet words are exchanged on a sentimental walk.

shaking hands – in the immediate wake of Ahsoka’s departure form the order, Anakin...isn’t okay. Obi-Wan tries to do something about it. (post S5 angst)

untitled platonic tired cuddles/back scratching fic – Anakin resorts to an old tactic to make his Master rest.

sun shine on – Obi-Wan and Anakin take a little trip to Tatooine to visit Shmi’s grave. (post-ROTS fix-it au of sorts)

pushing it too far — Obi-Wan calls Anakin for some help when he takes ‘intel’ too seriously and ends up drunk on a street in lower-level Coruscant.

whump prompt fill – Obi-Wan looks after Anakin after a near-miss. They talk.

‘was it another premonition?’ – Obi-Wan dreams of Luke. He wakes up to Anakin.

post-mortis angst – Anakin remembers. *tw: implied suicidal thoughts

angstpril: ‘you have to let me go’ – Anakin and Obi-Wan are stuck in a pit. only one of them can make it out alive. *tw: implied major character death

role model – post-deception angst. Obi and Ani talk. it doesn’t go well.

here either way – conversations about mental health. *tw: panic attack

hiraeth – Obi-Wan walks alone. *post ROTS

Anakin & Ahsoka: Dream Team Sharing One Single Brain Cell (tagged: #snips & skyguy or (for the really angsty) #its crying about snips & skyguy hours)

that one person – (my first fic!) Anakin gets assigned to lecture a class of younglings, but he's not the only one who doesn't want to be there.or Ahsoka Tano is done with Jedi sh!t and tries to leave, but this time it's just a classroom and not the entire Order and there's a lot less tears and pain.

define ‘attachment’ – while the dads esteemed Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker wait for Ahsoka to wake up, they talk about attachment, worry, and that time Ani caused an accidental security breech at the Temple.

here and now – the Force has tried to swallow Ahsoka Tano three times. it's hard to be the last one standing. (or Ahsoka feels the death of three important men in her life and is tired of being left behind) *tw: major character deaths (canon compliant and not depicted, only mentioned)

whumptober: crying – Anakin comforts a distraught Ahsoka after her disaster mission over Ryloth.

reaching out – Anakin is always there...until he’s not. Ahsoka reflects on how different it is fighting and living without Anakin at her side. (angst)

help would come  – Anakin and Ahsoka get stuck on an ice planet and things get dire. I chalked this full of parallels to the final conversation between Ani and Luke bc I love pain, I guess?

whump: ‘i’ve got you’ –  Anakin pulls Ahsoka from a nightmare.

zen!Anakin ficlet — Ahsoka visits Anakin in his new job as Galaxy’s #1 Dad (well Plo Koon still exists so maybe #1.5?).

right as rain – Ahsoka insists she is fine when she is distinctly not.

snoozeville – Anakin and a few boys of the 501st find their Commander catching some extra z’s.

stitching up – Ahsoka performs some in-the-moment surgery for Anakin and he tries not to scream. *tw: field surgery

‘platonic spooning’ prompt fill – do I need a summary after that?

sad hours: dancing – Anakin and Ahsoka dance in the aftermath of tragedy.

rainy ending given to a perfect day – Anakin and Ahsoka take a trip into downtown Coruscant. 

Anakin and Padmé: Abi Tries and fails To Write Romance (tagged: #anidala)

not enough – Anakin has a hard time with the Mortis fall-out. Padmé doesn’t know how to help someone who doesn’t want it. some painful connections between Ahsoka and Shmi are made. (angst, no happy ending, trouble in paradise)

I will not have this baby in a jail cell – some fluff, some crack, some Anakin-being-so-proud-of-his-badass-wife.

marcid – domestic fluff in which Padmé almost shoots him. ha. oops!

rubatosis – angsty anidala hours. Anakin can’t go to sleep. 

Obi-Wan and Satine: Abi Tries and fails some more To Write Romance (tagged #obitine)

don’t go – Obi-Wan makes a choice. *year on the run timeline

that’s mine – some happiness AU obitine. waking up next to each other. laughing. all the sappy stuff.

accidental keldabe kiss – all the ridiculous tropes I love with our favourite pining idiots. it’s the ‘kiss me so they don’t see us!’ trope!!!! *year on the run timeline

you’re shaking – Satine knows Obi-Wan more than he’d like. *year on the run

Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, Padmé: Space Found Family In Whatever Form It Comes

here and now – the Force has tried to swallow Ahsoka Tano three times. it's hard to be the last one standing. (or Ahsoka feels the death of three important men in her life and is tired of being left behind) *tw: major character deaths (canon compliant and not depicted, only mentioned)

i want your midnights – the gang attends a New Year's banquet (read: party) and Padmé surprises them all with her midnight kiss.

evermore – "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam. (or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?) (unrelated one-shots based on taylor swift songs ha)

flair for dramatics – when the gang gets their ship stranded on a desert planet, Anakin and Ahsoka get creative as they try to keep spirits up and minds off the sweltering heat. Obi-Wan questions his sanity. (crack fic turned fluff)

nothing a cup of tea can’t fix – when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former Padawan and Grand Padawan are. (or: Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit.) (sickfic)

in the sandstorm – when Tatooine's weather takes a turn for the worst, Ben Kenobi finds a young boy in need of shelter and some lessons on how wonderful his dad had been. (luke and obi-wan hurt/comfort)

remembering hurts – Rex and Ahsoka strive to survive on the snowy moon in the days after Order 66. tensions are high and emotions are volatile.

balter – disaster trio dances at a senatorial ball.

reunion – au where Anakin doesn’t completely turn to the dark side but everything up to and including Mustafar (except for the last like...five minutes) happens. Padmé has the twins, Obi-Wan is overwhelmed, Anakin is a mess. they’re happy...or at least, they will be soon.

‘cookies’ prompt fill – disaster trio makes cookies for the crechelings for Life Day. (just fluff and banter)

first ever codywan! – Cody does some bedside vigil for a hurt Obi-Wan. :’)

transponster – disaster trio is tired and delusional. Rex and Cody want Jedi to have some kriffing self-preservation.

one final salute — Obi-Wan and Cody get trapped. Obi-Wan’s luck is running out. (angst? angst.)

codywan whump – Cody saves Obi-Wan’s life. again. (more fluff than whump)

girls’ night – Ahsoka hangs out with her mom pal Padmé.

driving lessons – Obi-Wan and Anakin teach Ahsoka to drive. ha.

affectionate obi – the kids get Obi-Wan a puppy. fluff!

sorry I don’t speak idiot – Rex and Fives deal with a drunk Echo :’)

post deception disaster trio sadness – Ahsoka tries to keep Obi-Wan company in the aftermath of Rako Hardeen...but Anakin isn’t playing nice.

verklempt – Ahsoka and Yoda talk about being chosen. and Ahsoka finds out maybe she hasn’t been left behind afterall. *pre-TCW

apricity – disaster trio have a picnic at the temple! just pure fluff.

pyrrhic – codywan but make it angsty. some battles are won at too great a cost.

disaster trio sickfic – two Jedi dads and their (sick) daughter :’)

‘you’ve been here this whole time?’ – newlyweds anidala (but shh, Obi-Wan doesn’t know that! yes he does, everyone does.) are there when Obi-Wan wakes up and he ownders just what he did to get so lucky.

Febuwhump 2021: A Foray into Hurting the Characters I Love the Most 

mind control – Anakin’s narrative as he fights Ahsoka on Mortis. sad boy hours. a lot of insecurity happening here.

‘I can’t take this anymore’ – during the Obitine (plus third-wheel Qui-Gon) year on the run, Satine gets tired of Obi-Wan trying to die for her. a bit hurt/comfort, a lot sappy.

imprisonment – on their first mission together, Obi & Ani get captured. Anakin learns how Obi-Wan feels about tight spaces.

coma – post deception arc. Obi-Wan goes into a coma after a particularly intense conversation with Anakin. Anakin tells Obi’s unconscious body how he’s feeling. angst, angst, angst. there’s your warning.

‘take me instead’ – Anakin escorts Padmé on a diplomatic mission but things get dicey and quick decisions must be made. Anakin isn’t the only one in this relationship willing to be an idiot for the sake of *love.* (or: another attempt to write Anidala in a convincing way because they give me a tough! time! so this time make it...dangerous)

insomnia – Anakin overhears a late night holo-call and learns that his Master has a...friend that is a girl???? and is pretty???? but also that his Master may need some fixing and he thinks he may just be the nine-year-old for the job.

poisoning – Ahsoka gets drugged and Anakin gets...er...angry. (read: dark)

‘hey, hey, this is no time to sleep’ – as Ahsoka and Anakin wait for help, Anakin tells a story. an ancient monster in the heart of Tatooine...waiting for it's day of reckoning. (or: Ahsoka gets dehydrated and Anakin can't deny his hurting sister/padawan anything so he talks a little bit about home.)

buried alive – Anakin reflects on some things as his Padawan tries to rescue him from the rubble. angst!!!!!!!!!

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know’ – the Council loses a planet and Obi & Ani get tasked with finding it, but after nine hyperspace jumps and a painful discovery, Obi-Wan teaches his former Padawan one more lesson. (or: the boys talk about failure and feelings when Obi-Wan finds out Anakin's mechno-arm has been causing pain for a couple years)

hallucinations – Ahsoka tries to fix things. it doesn’t work. (post-order 66) angst 

‘who are you?’ – Anakin and Ahsoka rescue Obi-Wan, but things aren’t okay and Obi-Wan doesn’t recognise Anakin. (or: Obi is tortured for information about the fall of the Republic before it happens and goes a bit mad bc of it)

‘I didn’t mean it’ – Obi-Wan learns how cold and unfeeling his young Padawan thinks he is and has a rough day. angst

burned – Anakin mourns the loss of his Padawan in a tactile way. Obi-Wan watches. (or: Anakin throws Ahsoka’s Padawan beads into a fire)

‘I wish I have never given you a chance’ – Obi-Wan is reminded of his own incompetence through a vision form his old master.

you have to let me go – Ahsoka has one heirloom: a hologram of her old master as a padawan. but it’s time to let the past go and step into the future, with help from an old friend.

[worldsover]

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically.  “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-"  Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher​ and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

[zankivich]

The Corona Diaries: An Arrangement Blurb

a/n: you asked. I listened. I’m not sure where the inspiration came for this tbh. It definitely didn’t come from shawn because....Sheesh. I kinda thing this could be fun to keep doing, at lest for now. So if you have any prompts or ideas for things you’d like to see from our two faves please do let me know. K bye. 

*y/n’s point of view*

Marriage life suits you. Mostly because Shawn is understanding and kind, and because you make it a point to have sex twice aday as long as work doesn’t keep you separated. So you coast easily by treating each other with kindness and adoration, and never having an argument deeper than, “who left the bathroom light on?” and “it’s your turn to do laundry!”. Part of it actually is the nature of your jobs. Before Shawn could ever start to annoy you he’s in the studio for three months making a record, so every moment you get with him feels infinitely important, a moment you wouldn’t dare ruin with some stupid argument. And with you taking on the massive detailing of actually trying to build a label up, there’s plenty of time apart to make the time together special.

After the honeymoon, you began looking for houses together. There were a lot of needs it needed to check. Location. Kitchen for you. A place for Shawn to build a studio. It was the first time in your life where looking for a home meant looking for land, not necessarily listings on a website. You were building a home with this man, building a life for the two of you...and possibly even a family further on down the road.

When the coranavirus hit, Shawn was at home coincidentally. It was who you was in Australia visiting an artist on tour. You’ll never forget the two am, your time, facetime call from him. He was rosie cheeked with his favorite headband on, shirtless except for shorts and socks. He was cute. Not cute enough to be waking your ass up though.

“Shawn? If the world is not ending there is no reason for you to wake me up.” You mumbled adjusting to the light of your screen.

“Baby the world is ending! This corona shit is getting bad. And the government is totally in on it and they’re trying to kill us off in masses.”

You rolled your eyes and rolled over onto your back to peer at your lovely, if not crazy, husband.

“I told you to stay off tumblr. Those conspiracy theories always keep you up at night, babes.”

“So when it’s Regan and the Aids and crack epidemic it's a fact, but this is a conspiracy theory?”

“Nothing could have prepared me for my husband becoming more woke than I am.” You sighed. “What is it that you want me to do?”

“I want you to come home. Please? I think they’re gonna start pulling shit anyway. The NBA just canceled march madness, I wouldn’t be surprised if the tours are next. Please come home.”

You smiled softly at him. “You worried about me?”

“‘Course I am.” He whined. “You’re my wife, remember? Please come home, babe.”

His doe eyes, and the fact that he seemed to feel so strongly about it, made you feel like it was worth it to take him seriously. Shawn was definitely the more go-with-the-flow of the two of you. If he was taking it seriously, then maybe at the bare minimum you could cut him some slack.

“I will think on it while I sleep. We can talk about it tomorrow okay? I promise.”

He sighed, a crease in his eyebrows firm enough to cause a little worry even in your gut.

“Okay. Just...call me when you get up. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow only brought more headaches. It turned out that your husband wasn’t just a conspiracy theorist, but shit was really hitting the fan. The second you woke up you had to hop into a meeting with the entire team. The tour needed to be postponed. You had to get everyone home. There were over two dozen venues to speak to. A statement had to go out to the fans. Flights to figure out for hundreds of people. It was really a nightmare. And then on top of that your husband was just a bit losing his shit. By the time you got off your work phone, and to your personal phone--a reality that the ridiculousness of was not lost on you--you have sixteen missed calls, and tons of facetime requests and a lot of texts with various sad faced emojis asking if you were dead.

Long story short you got home to him and he was there waiting with open arms and an open dutch oven that had your favorite soup waiting to be eaten. The love of your life.

*Day 6 of Quarantine*

“Sweetheart?! Where’d you go?”

“In the kitchen!”

“Hey...why do you have clothes on?”

You turned around from the fridge to find that your husband was naked as the day he was born. You’d been making love for most of the day. And the soul was willing but the flesh was weak. Damn.

“I need to get away from you and that thing. Plus I wanted ice cream.” You whined.

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘that thing’. What did I do?”

“ME. And very well might I add. My vagina is killing me.”

“Wait you’re hurt?” He mumbled immediately stepping forward.

Your husband was just the softest fucker alike. God you loved him.

“Little bit. Obviously I wasn’t asking you to stop. I just need a little break. Forget about your abs for five minutes and come eat icecream with me.”

He reached for your hips smiling softly at you as he ran his calloused fingers along your skin.

“Should I go put some pants on? I don’t think you want my dick on the furniture.”

You peered down at him in all his gorgeous glory. Your vagina practically peaked its head out in interest. Whore.

“Maybe we take dessert to the bedroom.”

“I though you were sore.” He snickered.

You rolled your eyes and ignored him in favor of heading for the bedroom.

“Grab some spoons and maybe I’ll let you eat it off of me!”

The sounds of the silverware drawer clanging open and his feet smacking against the floor was enough for you.

*Day 15 of Quarantine*

“What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know. What do you wanna do?”

“Well...babe, I’ve picked the last three days. Maybe you could come up with something.”

You were lying in bed side by side staring up at the ceiling. Neither of you knew what time it was. You hadn’t worn anything but sweats in days. Speaking of days, you didn’t know what day it actually was. Stir-crazy didn’t even describe the mood you were in.

You turned your head to peer at him, your eyes slightly twitching in annoyance.

“But you like coming up with things to do. Every time I recommend something we always end up doing what you want to do.”

His eyebrows squinted and he leaned up onto his shoulder to peer down at you.

“Hey, that’s not true. I love doing what you wanna do. Why would you say that to me?”

You shrugged. “It’s true.”

“It is not. Stop it.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Shawn. So, you’re the creative one of the marriage. It’s not that terrible.”

“‘Not a big deal’? You’re telling me I don’t give a shit about the things that you wanna do. What kind of dickhead doesn’t care about his wife’s interests? I specifically asked you to come up with something because I wanna do what you wanna do.”

You rolled your eyes up at the ceiling. Shawn was managing something that he very rarely did despite everything at his identity. He was pissing you off.

“Hey,” He murmured softly, nudging you. “You’re getting upset. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to. Can we just drop it?”

“I don’t want to drop it, I want you to open up to me. Please?”

“Well that’s exactly what the fuck I just said isn’t?!” You snapped.

You sat up in bed and rushed to sit up and create distance. There’s a thing about Black women. Maybe it was present in other women too, but hell all you knew was your black ass and your black ass experience and in all your years you had seen momma, auntie, and various grandmothers a plenty do the exact same shit. It’s like there’s a ledge. A ledge where one can teeter and totter all day long, but the second you step over that ledge? You just sort of...lose your shit in a way only a Black woman can.

“Now I just got done explaining to you that when I say what I want to do, we end up doing what you wanna do, did I not?! And thennnnn you fuck around and completely ignore me telling you that I did not want to talk anymore about it, simply because it wasn’t what you wanted. Now I’m pissed off! Now I’m fucking over it.”

You reached for your pants, which he had so happily taken off earlier and got yourself in a state worthy enough of leaving the room while Shawn did everything in his power to make you stay.

“Don’t leave! Can’t we just talk about this? I’m sorry okay, I--I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, you wanted to know what I want to do? I want to spend the next couple of hours not looking at you.”

You've been practicing slamming doors since you were a child. And had gotten your ass beat many a times for it. The way the door frame rattles when you slam it this time is an ode to the child in you that wanted to express anger freely. Ugh. Dumbass.

*three hours later*

“What is it that you’re arguing about again?” Ti asked.

The hardest part of quarantine was truly not having access to your best friend. This meant that facetime and phone calls were a must to keep you sane. And in a moment when Shawn of all people was driving you up a wall, she was truly the only person worth speaking to.

You were sitting outside in the backyard, the sun slowing going down in the background. You’d sat outside reading a book long enough for your anger to slightly dissipate. The second Tiana’s facetime came through, it awakened within you the way only a woman could understand.

You rolled your eyes up at the sky. “I already explained it to you. I hate when you make me repeat shit until I see my own lack of logic.”

She snorted. “Cause you know I’m always right.”

“Yea, whatever. He’s a dumbass and I’m right, end of story.”

“Of course. I totally agree with you girl…”

“I mean it’s true! We--we always do what he wants...I like doing what he wants cause it’s always shit I like too. Like we’ll walk down to the beach with his guitar and I get to sit in the sand and listen to him play. I don’t have to get my hair wet and he serenades me and plays whatever I ask him to. That’s my favorite thing Ti...Ugh! Why is he so stupid!”

“The love you have for that man will never cease to amaze me.” tiana sighed. “Why don’t you just go make up with him?”

“Why do I have to go?! He’s the one who tried to make me talk before I was ready. He should respect my boundaries dammit.”

“Yea. You’re absolutely right, he should. You should tell him that. Calmly. And rationally. In sickness and health and holy matrimony. Remember?”

“. . . I don’t like you anymore, you know that?”

“Bitch get off my line and go make up with your man. I’m finna start charging you for this shit.”

You flipped her off in the camera and she cackled and hung on you. Wench.

You made your way to the one place you went when you weren’t sure about something, or you were frustrated at all in the world. The kitchen.

Shawn was still nowhere to be seen and the weight of Ti’s words hadn’t quite settled in yet, at least not consciously. Perhaps your subconscious knew something you didn’t because your hands immediately went to pulling out bread flour, butter, and yeast to make your famous sticky buns, which just happened to be Shawn’s favorite.

*meanwhile upstairs*

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’d been playing guitar for hours. His heart was a little sad,  his ego a little wounded, and there was still a bit of anger that felt irrational and rational at the same time. He kept thinking she would appear, on tip toes with her fingers drowning in her favorite sweater and the full rounded flesh of her thighs out for the world to see because who needs pants? But as the sun went down, and his mood sour’d, he had to switch his tactic. Should he apologize? He’d tried that already. And it had resulted in her going the fuck off on him. Should he just get on his knees and beg for forgiveness? Tell her how fragile he was, and how much it hurt to think he hadn’t been listening to her? They had never really fought before, not since committing to one another. He was a bit at a loss.

It’s not until he smells the cinnamon that he perks up a little bit. Cinnamon means one thing and one thing only. His wife was somewhere stress baking. He put the guitar down and toed his way towards the kitchen in search of her.

She was humming to herself as she sprinkled sanding sugar on her newest creation. She was so pretty to him. Like stunning type pretty. He was afraid of alerting her to his presence just in case she took the pleasure of staring away from him. She still made him nervous even now. How the hell did she manage to still make him nervous?

“I can feel you ya know.” She murmured softly.

He bit his lip and made his way slowly to the island which separated him from her side of the kitchen.

“What do you mean, ‘feel’ me?”

She turned around and there was suddenly a plate with two sticky buns on them. He smiled at the treat but also at the fact that she was speaking to him again. Had he mentioned that she was pretty?

“I just know when you’re around. My body knows when you’re around...It gets happy for some reason.” She snorted softly. “My heart rate slows, I breathe a little easier. That kinda shit. Sticky bun?”

“Thank you.” He said and tited his head so that he could make eye contact with her.

For a moment they eat in silence, enjoying the amazingness that was her food, and also because somehow they still got shy around each other sometimes. But he knew that there was an elephant in the room, and that if he had any hope of going to bed wrapped around his wife than they needed to talk and fast.

“Look I...I’m really sorry if I made you upset earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed and prodded at you like that. Obviously we’re both going a little crazy cooped inside the house all day, and we’re probably gonna start to get on each other’s nerves. It’s inevitable. But, I never in a million years want you to think that I wouldn’t do whatever you wanted. Some of my favorite days of our life together are watching movies while you detangle and braid your hair or when we’re in the kitchen, getting to watch you make stuff. I guess it just made me feel insecure as your husband that it sounded like I was hogging all our time together.” He mumbled. “I don’t wanna be a shitty husband to you. I love you so much ya know?”

She bit her lip and played with her food. The feelings talk was a bit harder for her sometimes, something he respected, but sometimes had to push her away from. The only way to really do that was to be open and honest, to show her that he cared about whatever was going on in that beautiful, intelligent head of hers.

“I know...I know how much you love me, and I know we never fight because we always talk first and work things out. And usually I would’ve done that! I think--I think I’m just getting a little stir crazy. I’m used to going going going and always having something to do. When I said you always pick what we do, I didn’t even mean it as an insult. I meant that you have a way of knowing what I want without ever having to ask. Like the day you decided to do a scary movie marathon? It was your idea, and I didn’t think of it but...it was perfect. I just got frustrated that you weren’t understanding me and then that you weren’t listening to me.” She whined, face scrunching up in frustration. “I just wanted you to hear it and it felt like you weren’t hearing me. Usually no one understands me better.”

He nodded vehemently, leaning into her space until his forehead nestled against her. She laid her hand upon his arm and ran her fingers through his arm hair. They each hummed a little, releasing the breath of a heavy day

“I don’t want anyone to. I want to know you as intimately as I can.” He whispered.

She smiled. “You do, babes. It’s why I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to listen better okay?”

“Thank you. And I’ll do my best to say what’s on my mind before I go slamming doors.”

He snorted softly. “You’ve got a hell of an arm though, aye?”

“Mhm. That’ll teach you not to fuck with me boy.”

“Would never, my darling.” 

***

Permanent taglist 

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @lifeoftheparty74 @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @justbeingoceana @loveylangdon @iloveshawnieboi @justbeingoceana @september-lace @valedictorian65 @disaster-rose @dimestorebieber22 @MixerMani @qcoachcartier @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @lifeoftheparty74 @justbeingoceana

Arrangement Taglist: 

@moonlightmendes22  @cottoncandyshawn @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsblue

@claredolphinbear24 @peterbrokenparker @blackharry @shawnwyr @speakingofmari @moniehp @softmendesss @ydolansss  @chonmnds @MixerMani @kitykatnumber  @lanallaa @palhacomendes @mendesficsxbombay @moniehp @alessiaase

[shortqueershakespeare]

Gonna take a page out of the other anon's book and ask you to do all the harry potter questions...

so this took forever, but i’ve finally finished them all (and of course pasting them fucked up the formatting fml) Amortentia: Talk about 3 things you love. 

- I love languages, I love being able to see into someone’s soul by talking the language of their heart. I love the different sides of my identity that emerge with different languages, how you can only see fragments of my whole soul without comprehension of each language that forms a part of my heart.

- I love the LGBT community, love feeling free and whole and myself. I love seeing people realise who they are and seeing unabashed, queer love in the face of a world that does not want us. I love seeing that we are stronger together and that no one can take our identities away, no matter how much they try. I love seeing boys fall in love with boys and girls fall for girls for the first time. 

- I love the pure, unadulterated joy of learning, of education and finding out something new. The feeling of discovery and the sensation of having accomplished something when you understand a new concept is incomparable.

Ageing Potion: imagine yourself 50-60 years from now. how would you like a typical day to go? where do you see yourself? 

In fifty years, my body would be my own, covered in marks from misadventure and splashes of colourful memories. At 61, my kids would be grown up and moved out, my house would be filled with a different kind of sound, with puppies and bunnies and any other pets that fit. I hope I’d have a man to share this life with, we spend our weekends baking and devising obstacle courses for the pets to fall over, getting calls from our kids on how to be an adult (as if we’ve figured that out, even at our age). My sisters still haven’t let go of the habit of calling me a kid, and I try to see them when I can. The seasons change, the leaves fall, and I spend them all, content.

Alihotsy Draught: name and write about a few topics you’re really passionate about. 

Oh god we already did things I love though

Lets go specific instead and say fictional characters/ships

Drarry - The lion and the snake clash together, fire and ice raging a passionate war against each other, until they manage to blend their voices into one harmony. 

Wolfstar - the dog and the wolf, the moon and the star. Something poetic about their love. Sure, they’ve pushed against it, shouted angry words and slammed doors, but through it all, they gravitate back to each other. 

Ballum - by all accounts they shouldn’t work. A criminal and an aspiring cop, they’re a recipe for disaster, doomed to fail. But no-one, not even them, thought that they would become their own priority, above parental expectations, above the world they grew up in. they hold on tight, breathe each other in, relish in their found family. 

Antidote to Veritaserum: what is the biggest/most memorable lie you’ve told? 

I genuinely can’t think of one at all?? Oh lol not a lie but lie by omission i guess?? The fact that my gran still thinks i’m cishet lolll

Babbling Beverage: what kind of person are you when you’re drunk/hyped up on caffeine? 

I’m so fucking affectionate and talkative, i wanna cuddle everyone and I will absolutely tell you my opinions on/feelings about people. I’m a drunk disaster, but a fun drunk disaster. I also find a lot of things funny when drunk, and buy lots of presents for people.

Barufflo’s Brain Elixir: if you could master one skill instantly, what would it be? 

Right now the goddamn Russian language so my degree would be easier lol. I’d love to be able to whistle actually, or draw. 

Bloodroot Potion: describe a time you felt heartbroken. 

Well we’re gonna stick with creative writing so: I had a dream about us, both in matching suits. We were dancing at sunset, holding each other close as the songs played on. I woke up happy and content, and then I remembered that you weren’t mine anymore. You’re dancing with someone else while I sit, sobbing in my bed, longing for what should have been our future. I went through my room, finding every little thing that belonged to you, and put them to one side, in case you ever wanted them back. Holding on to the hope of one last conversation I guess. I miss you, and I hate you. And I love you. It hurts so much, like my heart stayed with you and I won’t last long without it.

Bruise removal paste: after you were heartbroken, what healed you?

The first time, it was love from family and friends and eventually falling in love again. And time. Now, i don’t know what’s gonna finish healing me, but love from other people and the promise that I’m worth more has done a lot to get me there.

Burn healing paste: are you cautious or are you impulsive? 

Both I think? I think I could do with being a lil more spontaneous though.

Calming Draught: what do you do on a rainy day?

I like to sit with a cup of tea or coffee, legs under a blanket, watching TV or writing or reading.

Caxambu: Style

I don’t think I have a recognisable style that can be described as anything other than gay. 

Borborygmus Potion: what’s your favorite food?

Right now I could really go for roast dinner tbh.  Confusing Concoction: What do you struggle most with? 

Prioritising myself and believing in my own worth. Cough Potion: What do you do to get better when you’re sick? 

I sleep a lot, and I like to eat chicken soup and have lots of warm drinks. Cure for Boils: Write about three pet peeves. 

People NOT WEARING HEADPHONES Hypocrisy Not respecting personal space Death potion: If you were told you were going to die in 24 hours, what would you do? 

Depends if I knew the cause of death/if i was infectious or not. If I wasn’t infectious I’d visit as many friends and family as possible, and probably get drunk. Deflating draught: Would you call yourself arrogant/modest? 

I like to think I’m modest but then again I don’t think that’s a super modest thought. Developing Solution: What’s the best photo you’ve taken? Which one’s your favorite? 

I took a nice one of my uni room, and some good ones at pride. Dogbreath Potion: What superpower would you have and why? 

Shapeshifting because my god would that make being trans more bearable. Doxycide: are you more clean or messy? 

Messy, but I do like to clean sometimes. Dr. Ubbly’s Oblivious Unction: are you critical of yourself? if you are, how do you want to work on it? 

Yes I am, and I try to work on it by talking to myself as I would to a friend or my puppy. Draught of Living Death: How would you like your funeral to go?

I’d like it to be a reflection of me, but equally I’d want it to be good for the people I’m leaving behind - I’d like Bye Bye Darling to be one of the songs though. Draught of Peace: What relaxes you? 

Watching familiar TV, listening to dodie, Maisie Peters, Orla Gartland, the puppy sleeping on me, hugs from friends. Drink of Despair: What’s your biggest regret? 

Not breaking up with my exes sooner, it would’ve been so much less painful and better all round. Drowsiness Draught: What’s your bedtime routine? 

So after my sister and dad go to bed, I stay down with the pup, take her out to the loo, and then sit on the sofa with her sleeping for a bit. Then I put her to bed and tidy a bit, I go up to my room and get into pjs, brush my teeth and wash my face, I put on my dim fairy lights and put on a chill playlist, then sleep.  Elixir of life: Would you rather live five ok/mediocre years or one incredible year? 

I think it kinda depends, like it its five mediocre years where each day is mediocre, then definitely one incredible year. Elixir to Induce Euphoria: What makes you feel alive? 

Dancing, love, running with the pup. Essence of Dittany: what’s the worst scar you currently have?

I scar quite easily, but they also fade quite well - at the moment I have one on my elbow from catching it on chicken wire. Exploding Potion: Do you like fireworks?

Yeah! They’re super pretty - I prefer the ones without a bang though. Fatiguing Infusion: Describe a recent/memorable dream.  

I had a dream about being physically back at uni, it wasn’t super eventful but it was really calming and nostalgic. Felix Felicis: Do you believe in luck?

I guess?? Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent: How do you keep bad thoughts away? 

Antidepressants lol. No but if I’m anxious I’ll write out everything I’m stressed about to get it out of my head. If I’m depressed I try to distract myself. Forgetfulness Potion: What is your favorite memory?

Maybe my first time getting drunk, it was the cast afterparty for my favourite show and it was so fun being able to chill with all my friends and being treated like an adult. (Plus it was fucking hilarious watching everyone come to the set strike the next day where most people were hungover as all hell)

My first gay night out was also pretty memorable, if only for the amount I drank lol. Fungiface Potion: What’s the greatest prank you’ve pulled? 

Legitimately don’t know if I ever have pulled one? At school we once turned our whole classroom backwards, and at uni my friends and I spent about two years putting any spam mail we got into our friends pigeonhole after he proudly told us how empty he always kept it. That was fun. Gregory’s Unctuous Unction: Describe your best friend(s).

Okay we’re gonna go for 3 people (all of whom have featured in poems of mine) - I started off writing about 5 and then got bored (and also vaguely embarrassed about calling people best friends) so we’re going down to three I’m also gonna make it vague ish So the first is a friend I’ve known for ten years and we’ve been equal parts immature and grown up throughout those ten years - last time I saw her we went to a inflatable park and then to spoons. She’s funny and sweet and chaotic and a lot shorter than I think (she used to be a head taller than me but hasn’t grown since we met, so even though we’re the same height neither of us quite believes it). She’s talented and reliable and So very committed to being a good friend (she drove to pick my ex and I up from a festival so she could meet him and took a 3-4 hour train to come celebrate my 21st). The second is possibly the first friend I made at uni because we bonded over being terrified of going to Russia and now we communicate almost solely through animal crossing. I love her, she’s hilarious, about as much of a mess as I am and an incredibly sweet person. She’s the first person I text in a crisis because she knows the exact right balance of taking the piss and actually helping and is always available to talk in foreign when I need to forget about the people I’m with or avoid an ex lol. The third is one of my favourite people at uni, he’s super supportive and understanding but also the best fucking person for a night out or a laugh. I used to think he was intimidating but honestly he’s just so sweet and has always made me feel welcome in my new year groups and always makes sure I have someone to pre with. Hair-Raising Potion: What scares you?

Fucking clowns man. Also not living life to the fullest, I’m really trying to put myself first nowadays and make sure I’m not staying in bad situations out of anxiety. It’s definitely helped me feel better about myself and have more energy to think about other people as well. Hate potion: If you had to name your worst trait, what would it be? 

Either stubbornness or being too self-sacrificing. It’s not a good combo tbh. Herbicide Potion: do you have a green thumb? 

I have owned (1) plant and I think I killed it so no. I am absolutely terrified every time my dad asks me to water the garden because I feel like I can only over or under water. Hiccoughing Solution: what’s the funniest thing that’s happened to you? 

Funny situations involving me tend to end in injury, maybe when I fell over the tennis net that didn’t even come up to my knees and got stuck in it?  Or when I fell over skiing and couldn’t get up because I’d done a roly poly which ended up with my skis trapped under my back.  Invigoration Draught: how do you wake up in the mornings? 

Lately my sister brings the puppy up to wake me up which is nice. Invisibility Potion: What would you do if you were invisible for a day? 

Ooh that’s a good question, I think I’d probably take a bunch of photos of me holding stuff and probably scare the shit out of my family. Jawbind Potion: Are you talkative? What do you like to talk about? 

Yes, very. I like talking about anything and everything, I love finding stuff out about people, which is part of the reason I do so many of these things. Laugh-Inducing Potion: Tell a funny story.

I am not a very funny person. I don’t have many funny stories!! When I was younger and my mum would get milkshakes and stuff, we were only allowed a glass each (I have 3 siblings) so that we each got the same amount and my sister was being sneaky, tried to drink from the carton to cheat the rule, ended up drinking mouldy milk. Karma. Mandrake Restorative Draught: How long can you stand still? 

Probably quite a while, I’ve never thought about it to be honest. Manegro Potion: How do you like to cut your hair? I cut mine myself, I usually leave the top a few inches long, and the back and sides are usually tapered from a 3 to a 1. Mopsus Potion: What do you want to be doing 5 years from now? 

Hopefully be working in translation or LGBT activism, living with a flatmate or partner. I’d like to have had top surgery and be acting or stage managing again and playing tennis and maybe football again. Muffling Draught: Favorite genre of music? 

Idk, indie pop maybe? Or alternative? Oculus Potion: would you rather see the distant past or the distant future?

Distant future. Pepperup Potion: what makes you feel alive?

Sport, playing with the puppy, talking to friends. Polyjuice Potion: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I would remove my chest lol.  Quodpot Solution: What’s your opinion on sports (are you a fan of any specific teams/sport)?

Tennis is my favourite sport, I also like football, judo, rounders, swimming, sailing and skiing. Rat Tonic: Do you have any pets? 

Yes! I have a tiny bunny called Teddy, two chickens called Miss Sussex and Babs and a boxer puppy called Pickle. Shrinking Solution: How tall are you? Do you like your height (why/why not)?  

I honestly don’t know, I think I’m 5’ 3” ish?? After 5’ I just kinda stopped paying attention. I’d like to be taller because it would help me pass better, but I also kind of like my limbs the way they are?? Like additional muscle from T is already making tennis weird to adjust to so I don’t wanna make that worse tbh. Skele-Gro: What helps you feel better? 

Hugs, alcohol, chocolate, familiar TV, reading my favourite books. Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion: Describe yourself in 6 words or less.

Queer, loud, chatty, empathetic, caring, stubborn. Veritaserum: What is one truth you’ve wanted to get off your chest? 

I wish I had broken up with my exes sooner/not got together with the last one at all. We weren’t a good fit and I like to think we’d still be friends otherwise. Volubilis Potion: Can you/do you like to sing? 

I love to sing, I’m decent but struggling to adjust to my voice drop tbh. Wide eye Potion: What time do you usually go to bed? 

12/1am, depends on when I take the dog out. Wolfsbane: What’s the biggest change you’ve experienced in the past year? Going on testosterone!

[xladyalaeria-ht]

The images above are not mine. I found them on Pinterest and Tumblr. 

( katie mcgrath, 23 (30), cisfemale. )  ♟  raise your glass for ( alaeria hightower ), the ( lady ) hailing all the way from ( oldtown ). the word on the kingsroad is that they’re known as the ( wildcard ), and apparently they can be ( - subserviant ) and ( - secretive ), but at least the gods blessed them and made them ( + charming ) and ( + creative ). no one is positive as to their intentions but they’re loyal to house ( hightower & targaryen ), so they can’t be all bad.  Hello my lovely friends, it tis I, the slowest turtle in the planet finally finishing up and posting my bio for Alaeria. If anyone wants to plot a connection or a thread with her, please do feel very free to hmu, sweethearts!! <3

Ok, so let met first start off by saying what some/most of y’all might have suspected or guess by now, that my girl's  no.1 biggest secret is that she's actually not the real Alaeria Hightower! XD But, she is a Hightower by blood though, as her dad is the current ruling Lord of Hightower. Now let the story begin...

So about 2 yrs before she got married to Drogon Targaryean, she was actually the very secretly unknown, bastard child of Lord Dietrich Hightower from an extremely discreet liaison he had with a woman (who is actually a descendant of the Free Folk & also from another land/kingdom ( i haven’t really decided which one just dfghjklkjh ^.^”). He was a lustful dickhead of a guy who basically just wooed and charmed her mother with fake promises of love and he hid his true identity from her. When she got pregnant and thus found out her lover's real identity, she then immediately left, (to his relief as well as he didn't want to fuck up his marriage and spoil his shiny & extremely proud reputation) because she didn't want her child to known as a bastard and also to prevent her from getting gossiped about , bullied, etc...And also cos her mom still hopelessly cared for that idiot lover of hers despite knowing better. XD

Alaeria and her father never once met until one day, 2 years ago, thru a chance meeting and it was hard to not believe that she was his child as she had a unique birthmark which only members of his line would have, and she was the exact spitting image of her paternal great-grandmother XD They also eventually came to find that she also possessed quite a mixture of a few physical & non-physical traits of Maris the Maid, one of the most legendary Hightower ancestors.

Dietrich Hightower’s  only legitimate daughter with his legal wife, the current ruling Lady of Hightower, was the real Alaeria Hightower. She was a rather sickly and a pretty weak child. She also had the misfortune of having some facial scars and horrible looking birthmarks on her face and neck, and was also slightly disfigured due to a terrible accident while growing up. Her overly-proud and image conscious/ shallow parents were pretty dismayed by her appearance and was extremely fearful that she might not be able to make a good & strong match with other great houses. So from when she was 8 or so, onwards, they kept her carefully hidden in Hightower and she hardly went out of their fortress of a home. Plus whenever she had to be presented out for public events , they covered her face with pretty but dark-coloured veils and spread word that it was "prophesied that she had been both blessed and cursed with great beauty upon her 5th birthday and whoever who caught any single glimpse of her face from that point onwards, before she was married, would be struck down with  a great misfortune at a major point of their lives." So yeah, they managed to make many people believe this bullshit fake prophecy with asking a few servants to spread rumors that she was an incredibly beautiful baby & toddler & a few daredevils who had tried to sneak a peek of her face properly when she was 10/ 11 had been afflicted with horrible accidents and disastrous illnesses. The ruling couple also were planning to tell their in-laws after she managed to be wedded, that “this gift of beauty of her was also two-edged curse as she would be struck with a minor harmless affliction (ugly facial marks and stuff) after her wedding night”  XD rofl

They also obviously never told anyone that her health wasn’t that strong and constantly on a see-saw condition ;)

Ruling Lady Hightower was overly-protective of her poor little girl and devoted a lot of her time to pampering and spoiling her daughter so much, that the real Alaeria Hightower, grew up to be quite the brat : shallow, entitled  & extremely lazy young woman that was only interested in material items and frivolous matters, never bothering to study much or read nor get well-versed with current political events (despite having pretty sharp brains). She was also pretty selfish, never genuinely concerning herself at all with the welfare of anyone but that of herself and her beloved mom. She never ended up being close with her father at all as well.

In the meantime, my baby ( who I’m still struggling with deciding on her real, original name asdfghjkl, forgive me ^.^”) had been growing up in a pretty nomadic lifestyle with her loving mother, who had quite of a wandering soul in her. Despite never truly having a proper home or a long-term abode, she was pretty happy with her life as a travelling low commoner. She adored her mother and her mother cherished her right back, always making sure that she felt safe and secure. During all her many years of growing up, she had travelled to many & all sorts of lands and kingdoms & had a very rich past filled with memorable experiences and cultures as well as meeting all sorts of people. Her mother taught her to always be kind, loving and to be compassionate no matter what, as well as to always hold on to the hope that there will always be a light shining in the darkness in end. Her mother also always(!), highly stressed on filial piety and thus her daughter become an extremely dedicated & very dutiful daughter, that rarely counteracted nor really argued with whatever decisions her mother made ( even if very secretly sometimes doesn’t really like it nor agree with it :p)

In the end through it all, Her personality is that of a warm, genuine, sincerely charming and pretty affectionate woman. She's also pretty gentle sometimes. She's happens to be quite witty and pretty knowledgeable as she has a huge thirst for knowledge and was always very eager to learn as much as possible about anything & everything from when she was a child till now still. She's very loving and always tries her best to smile a lot no matter what, and also is very generous. Her flaws are that she is pretty naive towards the noble-people’s  manipulation, cunning & wicked ways since she's so open. She gets anxious(TM) easily at times and can be quite the worrier over some matters. She's also too docile/ overly-fillial towards her elders which would be her dad, his wife and all the older relatives of Drogon's family. ( this would give them a bit of power over her and it's kind of second nature to her to feel obliged to obey whatever they demanded of her...for now) She  is actually rather clumsy on some occasions, but now she has to try her best to be elegant & graceful  as much as possible ( so hard tbh XD) . She actually doesn't like the idea of battles and war and doesn't fully enjoy being a royal.  All she ever wants in life is to just live simply, happily and peacefully with her loved ones and that's it. Poor gurl. She likes spending time outdoors a lot and her hobbies more lies with cooking on her own, making small herbal soups/drinks (which she learned a great deal from her mother), swimming, riding and wood-crafting and playing with animals. She also has a pretty curious nature and high penchant , nay desire(!), for exploring all kinds of new places.

Now back at Hightower: (3 and a half years ago, before everyone came to King’s Landing) ;D: Shortly after Drogon's mother & his privy council and the rulers of Hightower came to an agreement & set arrangement to wed Drogon and (the real) Alaeria in the near future, the real Alaeria unfortunately got infected with a fatal and incurable, long-term, disease. Lord Hightower was panicking hard over what to do with the marriage arrangement as he really wanted to strongly bind their house with the great House of Targs, (cos despite whatever their current status may be , he wisely deemed that this powerhouse could potentially rise up to take over the Iron Throne again in the future & if not, well, it was better to be allies with this formidable house than be enemies ryt incase of any future wars?)

And this is when he unexpectedly & finally met with his bastard daughter at this critical emergency time. Upon meeting her and seeing some potential in her, he then had this brilliant but crazy & extremely risky solution, that my baby should take over her royal half-sister's place and pretend to be her for the benefit/good of the kingdom.

My baby had been seeking hard for her biological dad a few months prior to that life-changing event, as her beloved mom had just recently died but she managed to tell her daughter the truth of her real-parentage and told her that if her dad ever accepted her as his own & welcomed her  , she (my baby) must promise to be an obedient and filial daughter to him as my baby had been to her all these years.

However, when her father revealed his plan of deception to her, she immediately didn't  wanna do that plan with her dad as she was so damn scared that it would quickly derail and go wrong and they'd be exposed within the first day of her setting foot in Dragonstone XD Plus, also she ever truly wanted was to meet her biological dad and get to know him, not to be powerful lady! She was fearful for both hers & her dad's lives if they were found out and that she might either be facing life imprisonment , exilation or the worse of all, death, if her future husband and his council was so enraged over the whole major deception and wanted to punish them badly. BUT because of her promise to her mom and also because her dad eventually managed to sway her with lots of showers of affection and eager interest to bond and get to know his bastard daughter, which Dietrich quickly detected that she longed for fatherly love and acceptance ( half of this stuff he did,  was subtle manipulation which my poor baby will not realize until later) she then eventually did reluctantly agree to go with the whole plan.

Thus they spent that two years, before the day she was to step foot into Dragonstone for the engagement party and the wedding, coaching her relentlessly on how to become  perfect princess. The becoming Araelia part was easier to get into bcos,  nothing much was really known about the real Araelia outside of Hightower, since she was kept hidden most of the time by her parents, and had minimal interaction with folks during any major public feasts & events happening there and only a handful of highly trusted folks in Hightower knew of this whole matter. SO basically my baby could really be her own character & personality when she was and is still, now going about as "Lady Araelia.”

Atm, my poor gurl feels so conflicted internally, cos she loves Drogon so, so much and she's so torn over whether to  finally tell him the truth rn or continue holding it a secret to her grave. Cos she doesn't know how he is going to react!  She's in so much agony over her current dilemma right now, because the one thing she's no.1 scared of,  is losing him and his love . She's felt so happy, secure and at peace with him eversince the day they got married till now hence, she's so scared of losing him & this happy marriage forever if she confesses.But then again, she feels so horrible for still continuously lying to the man she loves, every single day.

Also, eversince arriving at King’s Landing for the past few days, she’s been holding an ever-persistent anxiety  at the back of her mind  over her true identity being discovered out. She’s been trying very hard to hide and keep her anxiety & stress at bay as often as possible. The current occasion she was attending and the place where it was held was the most riskiest of situation to be in at the moment, as there was the fearful possibility that someone from some other place which she could have bumped into during her past life of nomadic living with her  mother, would chance upon her and recognize her. Thus, inadvertently exposing her real identity and bringing the dreaded drama that was sure to follow.

[girlgainsbourger]

Hold on fast to living

New to this (again). I’ve been apprehensive to start a new outlet because my writing and creative skills are slowly diminishing (with age) and my life is pretty mediocre these days. Plus there’s this whole “starting anew/ clean slate” feeling that’s terrifying because my obsessive-compulsive mind is too afraid to miss out the smallest detail so I’d rather not document anything esp on my journal since I fear committing mistakes the most and that prevents me from doing anything. Marc Johns once shared that he makes his own journals (as in he binds them himself) so he doesn’t feel regretful of whatever he had written and Emma Watson said someone told her that there’s nothing more intimidating than a blank canvas, which is true. Sometimes that’s what makes me give up writing and/or doing things altogether. On the other hand, not being able to chronicle my thoughts, inspirations, discoveries and misadventures makes me sad. I don’t remember any of the mundane things I laughed at during the Christmas season which was one of the best moments of my life. I’m starting to forget what happened when I threw my boyfriend (I call him Johnny online) his very first prom. I don’t have a list of songs that changed my life in 2016 so I don’t know where to send my thank you notes to. Now (well not exactly now, it has become a recurring thought) I realized that I’m writing for myself, so writing bad entries is ok and shouldn’t feel like homework. That it’s far more important that I remember certain periods, feelings or strange magic (as I, my sister and our homie, Tavi like to call it) rather than worrying whether I sound fancy or intellectual (something I won’t ever be anyway cos I’m always grammatically incorrect). That I should keep writing despite the normality of my life because that's the only way I'll get better at writing, plus whoelse is going to log all the times I rewatch Roswell? That I should stop writing as if I’m writing for an audience and just be completely honest with myself because this is my space. That it’s ok to allow myself to write bad, cringey poetry because I can see myself develop from it and at least I have something to look back on and laugh at in the future. I realized that if I didn’t write, or try to, I wouldn’t be able to encapsulate important adulting moments, silly conversations, filmy feelings, sartorial choices, bathroom epiphanies, etc. I realized that in order for me to let of of the perpetual fear/ anxiety of creating/ writing something, I should just describe things as I see them. Less is more and just being sincere and honest about the things I write about often leads to a product of inspiring and inspired writing.

There are so many things I regret not being able to write about because I was either too lazy or too “in the moment and now it’s too late to write about it cos time has passed”. So here’s a list of some 2016-2017 things I can write from memory:

- Sitting on the curb outside 7/11 with my sister Hanna after an outdoor movie (it was Matilda), listening to Crowded House’s Don’t Dream It’s Over on loudspeaker

- The electric feel of meeting Johnny for the first time after months of unbearable yearning, like the by way of the green line bus scene on the Royal Tenenbaums. How gawky it was. How unadulterated it was. Thinking about it today, from this gradual mediocrity, still makes me cry.

- Watching Gainsbourg: vie heroïque again after the last time (2011?) and regaining my fondness for Klimt, Baudelaire and Aznavour, knowing the difference between Rimbaud and Molière and how the scene with Yolanda Moreau, underrated French actress btw, made me emotional. I paused the film, listened to Fréhel for a while, and tears started rolling down like end credits. The world, c’est si bon.

- Reading Toast on the bus ride home one night and The Hottest State in a local cafe, looking up from time to time in hopes that someone would find me as interesting as Sarah. But there’s always no one there.

- I remember getting on a bus cos I was leaving for school in a town 7 hours away from my home. My dad just got off after helping me get settled and I started crying. A few seconds later, he climbed back up cos I left my hat and he sees me a wreck so he sat beside me for a few minutes, sharing a sad-comfortable silence.

- Discussing ideas and the future with my cousin Lowil over mac n cheese. I told him I just want to make art for a living but I seem to have forgotten how. That when I try to make something, it’s always crap and since I feel like I have a good critical eye and can easily tell good from bad, I figured my feelings about my own work must be true. He then replied that it’s just overwhelming feelings of self-doubt and that I just have to keep practicing and eventually the persistence will pay off.

- Breakfast with my family in our garden, feeling like a scene from Vicky Christina Barcelona or Tortilla Soup or that life pondering conversation lunch scene from Before Midnight. Everything was fresh like a citrus fruit.

- My friendship with Aida leveled up when we started opening up to each other about our depression and finding peace in each other’s consolation

- Virtually watched the Gilmore Girls reboot with Aida and I remembered most of it was disappointment (what was up with that 20-minute musical scene that felt like 14 hours) and the next day, we watched the last episode, Fall, and Reflecting Light started playing and it’s as if Aida’s hand reached out of the screen, grabbing mine and things were better for a while. This is our life, and if everything else crumbles, at least we have this.

- Crying at a club whilst I was dancing with Rosie on her last night in the country because I don’t want this but I’ll miss her

- Dancing to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon with Carlo was bewitching. A lilting reminder that despite the persistent mediocrity, “I’m still in love with you, I wanna see you dance again.”

- My excitement on September and watching Practical Magic almost every day, to welcome October, made me feel immortal

- Going to Hongkong with my sister, Hanna, and all I can remember is catching our breath, sitting in an alley with our egg tarts in Central and laughing at our ludicrous travel decisions

- Sitting in history class and my instructor started to sound like the grownups in Charlie Brown, a lump in my throat and on the verge of crying because I know and I was certain that school isn’t for me and continues to be the bane of my existence

- A wave of depression so intense it made me sit on the floor of my balcony at 3am listening to Crash Into Me

- Throwing a bachelorette (party of four) for my sister, Inky. Her best friend posed as her stripper because we’re too much of a wimp to get a real stripper and I’ve never seen her laugh so much before. We went out for drinks after and had an intense and honest conversation despite the godawful ambiance and waited for our guy friends to pick us up. All I remember about it now was the tumble and tangle of limbs but it was one of the best moments of my 2017

- Growing closer to my sisters. I don’t know how, I don’t know when BUT HERE WE ARE

- Listening to the entire Dreamin' Wild album by Donnie & Joe Emerson on vinyl. Johnny bought it for me as a Christmas present and I know he saved up for it for a while

- Welcoming 2017 with a studio 70s roller disco party and I can never write about this because it was everything

- The first week of January, Johnny so openly talked to me about how much he hates his work and that he doesn’t know what to do and we just sat on the bed and I played Billy Joel’s James and we started bawling like babies. A week after that, he finally left his job

- Right now, listening to Paul Simon sing American Tune, muting the people around me, eating the last of my cake. I realize we’re nearing towards the end of February and I’m still not beginning

I promise to try to update this more, whether if it's a bad movie review, the usual list of things or just a moodboard of inspiration. But I'd forgive myself if I didn't.

[girl-gainsbourg]

Hold on fast to living

New to this (again). I’ve been apprehensive to start a new outlet because my writing and creative skills are slowly diminishing (with age) and my life is pretty mediocre these days. Plus there’s this whole “starting anew/clean slate” feeling that’s terrifying because my obsessive-compulsive mind is too afraid to miss out the smallest detail so I’d rather not document anything esp on my journal since I fear committing mistakes the most and that prevents me from doing anything. Marc Johns once shared that he makes his own journals (as in he binds them himself) so he doesn’t feel regretful of whatever he had written and Emma Watson said someone told her that there’s nothing more intimidating than a blank canvas, which is true. Sometimes that’s what makes me give up writing and/or doing things altogether. On the other hand, not being able to chronicle my thoughts, inspirations, discoveries and misadventures makes me sadder. I don’t remember any of the silly things I laughed at during the Christmas season which was one of the best moments of my life; I’m starting to forget what happened when I threw my boyfriend (I call him Johnny online) his very first prom; I don’t have a list of songs that changed my life in 2016 so I don’t know where to send my thank you notes to. Now (well not exactly now but it has become a recurring thought) I realized that I’m writing for myself, so writing bad entries is ok and shouldn’t feel like homework. That it’s far more important that I remember certain periods, feelings or strange magic (as I, my sister and our homie, Tavi like to call it) rather than worrying whether I sound fancy or intellectual (something I won’t ever be anyway cos I’m always grammatically incorrect). That I should keep writing despite the normality of my life because that's the only way I'll get better at it, plus whoelse is going to log all the times I rewatch Roswell? That I should stop writing as if I’m writing for an audience and just be completely honest with myself because this is my space (not yours, Bethany). That it’s ok to allow myself to write bad, cringey poetry because I can see myself develop from it and at least I have something to look back on and laugh at in the future. I realized that if I didn’t write, or try to, I wouldn’t be able to encapsulate important adulting moments, silly conversations, filmy feelings, sartorial choices, bathroom epiphanies, etc. I realized that in order for me to let go of the perpetual fear/ anxiety of creating/ writing something, I should just describe things as I see them. Less is more and just being sincere and honest about the things I write about often leads to a product of inspiring and inspired writing.

There are so many things I regret not being able to write about because I was either too lazy or too “in the moment and now it’s too late to write about it cos time has passed”. So here’s a list of some 2016-2017 things I can write from memory, just to start this blog off:

- Sitting on the curb outside 7/11 with my sister Hanna after an outdoor movie (it was Matilda), listening to Crowded House’s Don’t Dream It’s Over on loudspeaker

- The electric feel of meeting Johnny for the first time after months of unbearable yearning, like the by way of the green line bus scene on the Royal Tenenbaums. How gawky it was. How unadulterated it was. Thinking about it today, from this gradual mediocrity, still makes me cry.

- Watching Gainsbourg: vie heroïque again after the last time (2011?) and regaining my fondness for Klimt, Baudelaire and Aznavour, knowing the difference between Rimbaud and Molière and how the scene with Yolanda Moreau, underrated French actress btw, made me emotional. I paused the film, listened to Fréhel for a while, and tears started rolling down like end credits. The world, c’est si bon

- Reading Toast on the bus ride home one night and The Hottest State in a local cafe, looking up from time to time in hopes that someone would find me as interesting as Sarah. But there’s always no one there.

- I remember getting on a bus cos I was leaving for school in a town 7 hours away from my home. My dad just got off after helping me get settled and I started crying. A few seconds later, he climbed back up cos I left my hat and he sees me a wreck so he sat beside me for a few minutes, sharing a sad-comfortable silence.

- Discussing ideas and the future with my cousin Lowil over mac n cheese. I told him I just want to make art for a living but I seem to have forgotten how. That when I try to make something, it’s always crap and since I feel like I have a good critical eye and can easily tell good from bad, I figured my feelings about my own work must be true. He then replied that it’s just overwhelming feelings of self-doubt and that I just have to keep practicing and eventually the persistence will pay off.

- Breakfast with my family in our garden, feeling like a scene from Vicky Christina Barcelona or Tortilla Soup or that life pondering conversation lunch scene from Before Midnight. Everything was fresh like a citrus fruit.

- My friendship with Aida leveled up when we started opening up to each other about our depression and finding peace in each other’s consolation

- Virtually watched the Gilmore Girls reboot with Aida and I remembered most of it was disappointment (what was up with that 20-minute musical scene that felt like 14 hours) and the next day, we watched the last episode, Fall, and Reflecting Light started playing and it’s as if Aida’s hand reached out of the screen, grabbing mine and things were better for a while. This is our life, and if everything else crumbles, at least we have this.

- Crying at a club whilst I was dancing with Rosie on her last night in the country because I don’t want this but I’ll miss her

- Dancing to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon with Carlo was bewitching. A lilting reminder that despite the persistent mediocrity, “I’m still in love with you, I wanna see you dance again.”

- My excitement on September and watching Practical Magic almost every day, to welcome October, made me feel immortal

- Going to Hongkong with my sister, Hanna, and all I can remember is catching our breath, sitting in an alley with our egg tarts in Central and laughing at our ludicrous travel decisions

- Sitting in history class and my instructor started to sound like the grownups in Charlie Brown, a lump in my throat and on the verge of crying because I know and I was certain that school isn’t for me and continues to be the bane of my existence

- A wave of depression so intense it made me sit on the floor of my balcony at 3am listening to Crash Into Me

- Throwing a bachelorette (party of four) for my sister, Inky. Her best friend posed as her stripper because we’re too much of a wimp to get a real one and I’ve never seen her laugh as much as she did before. We went out for drinks after and had an intense and honest conversation despite the godawful ambiance and waited for our friends to pick us up. All I remember about it now was the tumble and tangle of limbs but it was one of the best moments of my 2017 tbfh

- Growing closer to my sisters. I don’t know how, I don’t know when BUT HERE WE ARE

- Listening to the entire Dreamin' Wild album by Donnie & Joe Emerson on vinyl. Johnny bought it for me as a Christmas present and I know he saved up for it for a while and that makes my mouth quiver

- Welcoming 2017 with a studio 70s roller disco party and I can never write about this because it was everything

- The first week of January, Johnny so openly talked to me about how much he hates his work and that he doesn’t know what to do with his life anymore and we just sat on the bed sharing an understanding and I played Billy Joel’s James and we started bawling like babies. A week after that, he finally left his job

- When I watched this conversation between RuPaul and Oprah that literally changed my life. It’s like they sat down and recorded a self-help audiobook

- Right now, listening to Paul Simon sing American Tune, muting the people around me, eating the last of my cake. I realize we’re nearing towards the end of February and I’m still not beginning

I promise to try to update this more, whether if it's a bad movie review, the usual list or just a moodboard of inspiration. But I'd forgive myself if I didn't.