#The fact this is the hottest year on record does not help

[yesterdayiwrote]

On the plus side, Qatar is on the 1st December next year when the average temperature is 10⁰ cooler than it is in October, so hopefully this won't be repeated, but the FIA should be sued for negligence for having let this happen this year, and should never be allowed to schedule this race outside of Feb/Mar or Nov/Dec...

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Rolling Stone:

EARLIER THIS WEEK, the Copernicus Climate Change Service, a European Union-funded research group, announced that last Sunday, July 21, 2024, the daily global average temperature hit 62.76 degrees. It was the hottest day scientists have measured since 1940 — which officially makes it the hottest day ever recorded on Earth by humans. Twenty four hours later, however, Copernicus had to update its report: On Monday, the temperature climbed up to 62.87 degrees. As of now, July 22, 2024 is now the hottest day ever recorded. 

But hey, it’s only Friday. Who knows what the weekend holds? Or the rest of the summer, for that matter.

Are you shocked by news of this record-breaking heat? Does the fact that you lived through two of the hottest days on Earth that scientists have ever recorded make you think differently about the risks and consequences of living on a rapidly-warming planet? Did you pause for a moment and think about the millions of people who sweat through this without air conditioning? Did you mourn the 396 deaths from heat that are under investigation this summer in Phoenix? Did you sell your car and buy an electric bike? Were you inspired to sign up to knock on doors to help Kamala Harris defeat the climate-hoax-pushing-criminal Donald Trump? Are you getting calls from your MAGA-loving uncle in Idaho apologizing for the long lecture he gave you at Thanksgiving last year about how Earth’s temperature moves in natural cycles, or about how higher levels of CO2 in the atmosphere is good because more CO2 makes crops and trees grow better?

Probably not.

The problem is not you. The problem is that a broken heat record is just another statistic. The story of the climate crisis is written in broken records that measure levels of CO2 pollution, glacial ice melt, rising sea levels, crop failure, megafires, the spread of diseases, heat deaths, wildfire and insurance costs, and economic losses. But if shocking data and broken records could galvanize people to take action on climate, we’d all be powering our iPhones with solar power from microgrids, and millions of cows and chickens would be liberated from factory farms. We’d have cities crowded with bike lanes and a high speed rail service between Dallas and Houston. We’d laugh at climate-hoaxing politicians and debate whether it is fair and just to charge Big Oil companies with criminally negligent homicide.

[asskickedbygirl]

Radio Bam - F!Reader Fic

Episode three

ep one - ep two- ep four

Desc: You’re a regular on radio bam! hot pants!

A/n: been a while… like a WHILE while. getting wayyy back into cky properly again because oct-nov was so much fun i wanna go back everyone come back. COME BAAACK

⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒

Dico: Welcome to Radio Bam Sirius 28 Faction everyone! The sluttiest radio show on air. Tonight we got the hottest of hot pants and the whore herself Y/n! Of course we have the only one even whorier than hot pants, Brandon Novak, Raab Himself, Joe Frantz, myself of course and the one you’re all here for, Baaaaaam Margera!

Y/n: These intros are getting repetitive.

Dico: You try it next time hot pants.

Y/n: Alright I will.

Bam: That’s gonna be shit.

Y/n: Whatever. Anyways why am I even being compared to Novak of all people on the whore thing. He fucks a new girl every day I just have sex with people I know!

Raab: Yeah see that’s worse.

Y/n: How is that worse?!

Novak: Cause’ I fuck a broad, and then I never see her again! I don’t know her friends, she doesn’t know mine. It’s perfect.

Frantz: Yeah now two of the guys in the crew have seen your tits.

Bam: Actually I’ve seen her tits too.

Raab: Same.

Novak: Come again?

Y/n: Guys you are not helping my case it was a DARE!

Novak: Why am I never invited to these truth or dares?!

Y/n: This was like four years ago, we were drunk, Bam the sleaze dared me to flash my tits. End of.

Dico: Well that’s not exactly it.

Y/n: Don’t.

Bam: We made out!

Frantz: Ah the old new years smooch.

Frantz: Ah the old new years smooch.

Y/n: For the record, Bam is a terrible kisser.

Bam: That is not true!

Y/n: He’s all tongue and teeth ladies!

Bam: Maybe it was true four years ago.

Raab: That is not that long ago.

Frantz: Bam was 21 making out like a 13 year old.

Novak: You would know.

Frantz: Alright ‘life partner’.

Bam: It’s an endearing term!

Dico: Were we not gonna delve into the history of Y/n with pro skaters?

Bam: Fuck yes we are.

Y/n: Uh oh.

Bam: Well we know you’ve fucked-

Y/n: Hey! Some of those guys have girlfriends now! They don’t want their business aired out on live radio!

Raab: Well they didn’t have girlfriends when you fucked them.

Y/n: I don’t actually know that for sure.

Bam: More whoring!!!

Y/n: Hey, that’s on them not me. I’ve never knowingly been a home wrecker.

Frantz: That’s definitely not true. 

Raab: I know for a fact that’s not true.

Y/n: What the fuck are you talking about?

Dico: Hot pants has forgotten spring break 99. 

Y/n: Oh god that does not count!

Novak: Ooooh I wanna know about spring break baby who’d you fuck?

Y/n: I didn't even fuck anyone! 

Bam: Almost.

Y/n: Yeah well that’s not fucking is it?!

Frantz: Tell your story Y/n we know you want to.

Y/n: It’s not even a story. Basically we were at the Jersey Shore for spring break. Luxury, I know. And we were at this bar with our dumb fucking fake IDs and I met this guy who said he had a girlfriend but she was a bitch or something.

Dico: That's what they all say. 

Y/n: Yeah well I was drunk and he wasn’t ugly so we started making out or whatever but then I felt a fucking cold, sticky-ass drink go down my back and I turn around and get a slap in the fucking face by some bitch!

Frantz: The bitch being the girlfriend?

Y/n: Yeah! Who the fuck makes out with a girl in the same vicinity as his girlfriend?! Fucking asshole.

Bam: You’re missing out the part where the two of you got into a bitch fight and I had to tear you off of her.

Novak: *Rawwr* 

Y/n: Yeah I scratched up that bitches face but only cos she poured a fucking drink on me not because of her scummy boyfriend, she could have his ugly ass.

Raab: Well you made out with him.

Y/n: Yeah I didn’t fucking wed him Raab. 

Frantz: I feel bad for your future husband Y/n. 

Dico: He has a field of dicks to be compared to. 

Y/n: Haha. That wouldn’t even be the issue, I’m fucking friends with the field. 

Bam: Speaking of the field, field fucker, you gotta talk about at least one pro skater you’ve fucked. 

Novak: Yeah come on baby I wanna hear. 

Y/n: Why are you guys so obsessed with my sex life?

Novak: I’d be more obsessed if I was in it sweetheart.

Y/n: In your dreams Novak.

Novak: My wet dreams at least ooohaahhh.

Frantz: Come on Y/n who’d you bang?

Y/n: I can’t name drop on air. 

Dico: Oh fuck off I’ve name dropped countless times. 

Y/n: Yeah but my whores are known Dico.

Bam: I know one person you could say.

Y/n: I already know who you’re talking about and no.

Bam: Ah come on Tim was a nice bed I’m sure

Y/n: Oh you fucking asshole Bam I’m gonna kill you. 

Novak: You fucked Tim O’Connor?! And not me?!

Y/n: Yeah cause’ he’s hot?

Novak: That’s low babe.

Dico: Every episode hot pants has to talk about at least one person she’s banged.

Y/n: I haven’t banged that many people Dico.

Bam: It’s fine, when you run out of episodes you can hump Novak.

Novak: Now that’s a good idea!

Dico: You gotta do a review too, rate Tim in the sack outta ten. 

Y/n: Well hey now, doesn't this mean I get to rate you too?

Raab: Fucking zero then. 

Frantz: You know from experience? 

Y/n: Well I do and yeah it was a solid 1.

Bam: Damn not zero?

Y/n: One pity point. 

Dico: I’d like to put it out there that that was an outlying event.

Frantz: Yeah Raab can give us an updated review.

*Room laughs*

Bam: Okay everyone shut the fuck up, Y/n rate Tim.

Y/n: I’m not doing that.

Dico: Booooo.

Novak: I’d be a 10/10 for you babe.

Y/n: Alright fine. He was like a solid 8.

Bam: Damn why only 8?

Y/n: 8 is a lot! He was good but like it wasn’t the best I’ve ever had. He sweats a lot.

Frantz: You’re not into the sweaty lovers?

Y/n: Can’t say I am.

Novak: I wear deodorant sweetheart.

Dico: No you fucking don’t. 

End.

@pontiusbikini @dxckfarmdunn @steve-osahottie @gnarkillknoxville @alex-abn0rmal @stratossphere @izzaaaaaa @jackassvivalabam03 @bambammargera @spoookyberry @jackussy420 @lovexjoe

[2d-dreams]

Hi, and happy (almost late) WBW! (as usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own).  For today's question, what are the geography and climate like in your world? How did you decide on them?

I'm mostly using the microscopic tidbits of information that Mr. Abbott mentioned in Flatland and expanding on them. Though I'm arguably rather lousy at coming up with things I try my best. So that's how I 'decide' on them, just by expansion.

This is a super long post.

Let's tackle climate first. In Flatland, one thing that is generally constant is rain. This is a life-saver for Flatlanders, as without it they wouldn't tell the time. Generally the rain falls twice a day - the first rain of the day is called the warm/morning rain, the equivalent to sunrise to them. The second rain is the cold/evening rain, equivalent to the sunset. Unless it is somehow obstructed, rain will fall upon all regions of Flatland, so no place is ever left rain-less naturally.

Trees and plants do not obstruct rain, as they are constructed by nature to guide water around them to nearby plants and, once their water reserves are full, to drop excess water under their stems so that it may fall below. This also helps circulate the water inside of them so that they dont start to rot with excess stagnant water, along with the method of allowing creatures to drink from them.

As examples some lazy drawings of a normal tree (left) and a monster tree (right) under the rain. The monster tree folds its limbs around the core during the rain to block the least amount possible off of the plants below.

The building of houses and other related buildings of the people of Flatland is planned taking into thoughtful consideration whether it will obstruct rain and if so, how to remedy this. Some examples of rain-friendly building, where white lines are rain flow:

Sometimes if a building or set of buildings (like a market) is very large a drain system will be made under it, catching the rain that falls around its sides and allows it to drop under the building to distribute it evenly instead of allowing dangerous rivers to form

Rain is not quite like the rain of Planiturth. Instead of clouds too heavy to carry their load of water, think of it more like the sea, with the rain being a wave that passes through the entirety of Flatland all day every day.

Climate doesnt change much throughout the seasons because this universe does not have a star or other celestial bodies. The light variations of effects mostly come from the entire dimensionset's position in Timespace. It is a rotating torus, because in a way all dimensionsets (dimensions, but with a different name. I call them dimension sets because 'dimension' is a weird word to use because of some technical aspects) are rotating within Timespace.

The fluctuations of the fabric of the multiverse bring them like a tide close to Spaceland and then away, and so on. When the tide brings them close, they are warmer, and when they are further, they are colder. Like seasons. Usually these are very very tiny variations in position, but every century (or some other big measurement of time) the multiverse brings them at their closest, bringing the hottest years on record, and then they part and bring the coldest years. And so on.

---

As for geography.. again, there isn't technically a lot to talk about. There wouldn't actually be anything to talk about if Abbott hadn't decided to torture us with mentioning the fact that there are mountains and mines. So I have to deal with this.

The first type of mountains are fossil cliffs. These are mostly "artificial" - accidentally created by the ancient flatlanders who piled up their corpses in a place. If it was a building made of wood, the wood rotted away and eventually the piles of corpses were left exposed to the air, all closely packed together, stripped of skin and left only as bare bones.. This also happened with animal corpses (dinosaurs etc) though they are less or smaller. They're kind of weird. Like, would you want to live near a mountain of old dead bodies? Would you be fine with it going away if it meant that someone's gotta go mine them and probably use them in something?

Another less horrible type of mountain is a mineral mountain, closer to a normal mountain to us. Nobody really knows how they started existing and I'm too tired to brainstorm it up. Usually they are huge groups of small mountains that allow water flow between their systems, but some are big enough to create powerful rivers.

As for bodies of water, there is no sea - or no known sea. But there are rivers and lakes. Both are generally created by mountains. If there is a big depression on a mountain, water piles up and makes a lake in there in no time. If the mountain is big, the water falling down its sides or down small holes within it packs together and makes rivers.

A river can be safely crossed by holding a string over your head to block the waterflow, but some are far too strong sometimes. They generally form during the rain and stay for a while longer after it stops.

[ocean-sailor]

Our oceans are running a fever. And just like when we run a fever, it's indicative that something is very wrong.

On Monday, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) reported that July ocean temperatures were the hottest they've ever been.

"The last 10 years have been the warmest since the 1880s. And all this increase in temps are not only felt at the surface of the ocean, but they can [also] be detected at thousands of metres depth," Carlos Del Castillo, chief of NASA's Ocean Ecology Laboratory at the Goddard Space Flight Center said during a press conference.

"And there are consequences — as the ocean heats, the water expands, and when you combine that with the melting of ice over land, that contributes to the increase in sea level rise — which are accelerating."

Consequences are increases in coastal flooding, coastal erosion, and marine species of economic importance migrating further north to colder waters.

And Del Castillo warned: "What happens in the oceans doesn't stay in the oceans."

It's a sobering reminder that our planet is more than 70 per cent water, that these waters help drive climate around every part of the world.

And scientists are trying to better understand how our oceans — including natural variations — are being affected by increased greenhouse gasses in our atmosphere.

Here are just a few of the ways in which our oceans are being affected by climate change.

Hot oceans, struggling marine life

Just recently, the waters off the coast of southern Florida reached about 38 C, concerning scientists, as they witnessed corals that had essentially burned to death.

Previous marine heat waves, including the longest on record, nicknamed "the Blob" in the north Pacific, hurt wild salmon and other fish, killed off swathes of kelp forests and was linked toxic algal blooms and sea-star wasting disease.

One of the biggest roles our oceans play in terms of our planet is its role in heat absorption. In fact, our oceans store roughly 90 per cent of our planet's heat.

To put it in perspective, earlier this year, Tim Boyer, an oceanographer with NOAA's National Centers for Environmental Information, told CBC News that should the top 1,000 metres of the ocean drop in temperature by just 0.1 C, the heat released into our atmosphere would result in an increase of 100 C of global temperature. Of course, that's not going to happen, but it provides a glimpse as to just how much heat is taken in.

The concern is that the heat contained in the ocean won't stay there forever and will gradually be released further contributing to global warming.

Another concern is something called ocean acidification. As the water absorbs more CO2, it causes a chemical reaction that increases its acidity.

More acidic water makes it harder for shellfish such as clams, oysters and corals to make their shells. And right now, the oceans are already 20 per cent more acidic than they were at the start of the industrial era, Del Castillo said. This process also causes ocean stratification, where water is prevented from mixing, resulting in less oxygen for marine life at deeper depths.

Though it's concerning for marine life, it also has a big impact on the fishing industry. According to the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), "It is estimated that up to three billion people dependent on marine and coastal biodiversity for their livelihoods could be impacted by ocean acidification. Large shellfish industries are also threatened."

El Niño-Southern Oscillation (ENSO)

By now, most people have likely heard of either La Niña or El Niño, as we have just come out of three consecutive years of La Niña, and have now entered the El Niño phase. But what does it all mean?

The El Niño-Southern Oscillation (ENSO) is a naturally occurring — and recurring — oceanic phenomenon that is coupled with the atmosphere. It has three phases: La Niña, El Niño and the neutral phase. The cycle runs roughly every three to seven years. And it's part of another naturally occurring cycle called the Pacific Decadal Oscillation (PDO), which takes place over a longer timeframe.

In the La Niña phase, a region of the central and eastern tropical Pacific Ocean cools by roughly 1 C to 3 C. In an El Niño phase, the same region can warm by the same amount. And in neutral years, the temperatures remain near normal.

But these phenomena don't just have an effect in the region: they affect the entire planet. For example, La Niña can bring higher rainfall to Indonesia and less rainfall to parts of the central and tropical Pacific.

El Niño, decreases rainfall in the same region while warming other parts of the world, including parts of Canada. And in an already warming world, El Niño can increase global temperatures.

"Given the ongoing, incipient El Niño event in the tropical Pacific, we expect that … the rest of 2023 will start to break records, too," Gavin Schmidt, director of NASA's Goddard Institute for Space Studies said in a NASA video session on Monday.

"2023 might not quite be the warmest year on record, but it will be very close. And 2024 will likely be the warmest on record." While these are naturally occurring phases of the ocean and atmospheric response, what's concerning to many scientists is the upward temperature trend of both La Niña and El Niño.

"The one thing that we know, all else being equal, an El Niño event today is warmer around the world than an identical event 100 years ago, because of climate change," said Simon Donner, a climate scientist and professor at the University of British Columbia. "And the same is true for a La Niña event."

What's important to note, however, is that the 10 hottest years on record for the globe have all occurred since 2014, whether the tropical Pacific has been in an El Niño, La Niña or neutral phase.

Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC)

Our oceans have many currents that circle the planet. One of the most important is the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC).

In this process, warm surface water that originates from the equator travels along this sort of conveyor belt towards the Arctic. It's the reason why England has warmer weather than Atlantic Canada.

It then cools and sinks to the deep ocean before travelling back down to the equator, where it eventually comes back up to the surface. The whole process takes roughly 1,000 years.

But there is been some some concern that AMOC is slowing down, which could dramatically cool parts of Europe.

"There is evidence that it has weakened, since like the mid–2000s; that the circulation has slowed down a little bit," Donner said. "And if you look into climate models, in every scenario, they do show evidence that it's going to continue to decline going forward into the future, particularly in the scenarios where there's even more warming. But scientists are pretty confident this doesn't mean that would be an abrupt collapse."

However, last week a study published in the journal Nature suggested that we may see a collapse by the mid–century, both due to natural variability and human-caused warming, specifically, the acceleration of melting glaciers. As the cold freshwater melts into the ocean, it causes a destabilizing effect in the circulation.

However, the findings are in contrast with the latest IPCC report which said it that it is "expected to slow over the coming centuries." But once again, scientists are trying to better understand AMOC and the potential role that ocean warming and glacier melt will play in its circulation.

The polar regions

The Arctic is warming at roughly three times that of the planet, which has cascading effects. First, and most importantly, the Arctic plays a major role in cooling our planet.

The Arctic Ocean has typically been covered with thick ice that reflects the sun's radiation back into space. But with more CO2 and other greenhouse gases pumped into the air, it warms the planet, and melts that ice, leaving the dark ocean surface uncovered. This further lends to more melting and thinning of that crucial polar ice, which in turn speeds up the warming. It's what scientists refer to as a "positive feedback loop."

"The projections going forward in the future is that right now, we're expecting that by mid–century, there will start to be summers where there's no ice in the Arctic or will be practically ice-free," Donner said.

It's of particular concern to the melting glaciers of Greenland which then feed into the ocean contributing to the disruption of AMOC.

All that melting Arctic ice would amplify global warming, which has cascading effects on wildlife and vital ecosystems, and deeply impact the Inuit who have relied on the region's stability for thousands of years.

The Antarctic, on the other hand, is an entirely different beast. Rather than an ocean, Antarctica is a massive continent with ice sheets. Parts of the Antarctic are warming, and as those ice sheets melt, they end up in the ocean. And there's the fear that, with increasing global temperatures, if massive amounts of ice end up in the oceans it could cause major sea level rise.

Since 2002, Antarctica has lost roughly 147 billion tonnes of ice per year. Global sea level has already risen by 98 mm since 1998. But the fear is if Greenland and Antarctic continue to melt, that sea level could rise dramatically. Even today, island nations in the Pacific are facing an existential threat.

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

You finger the dog-eared magazine, last month’s issue of a shoddy fashion magazine that featured top actress Jennifer Garner on the front cover. Her caramel brown highlights practically glow on the page, blown out and beautiful. You suppress a sigh, you long to be the radiant young woman on the cover. The headline is glittery, sparkly and just begging for attention. 

Swiping a hand through the pages, your eyes are crowded with over-stimulation. Colorful models dressed up in the latest designs, Chanel and Burberry suits you can only dream of, and happy women at the prime of their lives. 

Twenty-seven and in Heaven! You smile wryly at the cheesy rhyme that headlines the following pages, but nevertheless the happy model on the spread does indeed look like they’re in heaven. 

Sure, you’re no shrinking violet. Heck, you don’t even consider yourself painfully average. You may not be on the traditional spectrum of popularity in high school, but you get around and have a wonderful best friend and an even better boyfriend. However given the social classes that preside, you do get those moments where you second guess your life’s position. Good thing high school has an expiration date, and you’re close to the end.  

“Baby Bun, what are you doing?” the magazine is snatched from your grasp, thrown on the table without a care in the world. Jennifer Garner’s hydro-whitened smile gleams tauntingly at you, “reading that junk is gonna mess with your head.” 

Your boyfriend returns from his final suit fitting, his outfit for tonight all pressed and ready to go. He pouts at you, pulling you up by the hand to lead you out of the Men’s Warehouse. Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the lacrosse team, flying by high school with a sports scholarship already in the bag. Eats up attention like plants soak up the sun. Secretly loves taking photographs of his dog and watching Netflix animes at your house. 

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

“Excited to listen to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem on repeat?” you guaff, “as if.” 

He pinches your arm lightly, “You also forget that we’re gonna tear up the floor to Nicki Minaj’s Superbass.” 

You shrug listlessly, crunching the white plastic closer to your body. 

Before you can suck all the air out of the garment bag, Jungkook carefully extracts it from your grasp, easily holding it between his one arm so he can thread his other hand through yours. “I am excited! It’s just that… Jimin’s not gonna be there and we’re sitting with the Yearbook committee.”

Looking down at the floor you extract your hand from his, slipping into his parent’s Honda Civic. The yearbook committee, meaning you’d be sitting at a table with head editor Jennie and her group of friends. Friends that are popular and pretty, just like Jungkook. 

Jimin is currently on a flight back from Korea due to a family funeral, therefore leaving a seat empty at your prom table. It was only seat that you cared about, other than Jungkook’s. It’s no one’s fault and Jimin of course is doubly upset to miss prom, but without your best friend you’re not sure if you can survive the night. 

One of the few secrets you keep from Jungkook is the fact that Jennie and you aren’t exactly friendly to each other. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t run the in same friend group or you always win the debate in Civics class, but Jennie clearly expresses her dislike for you as easily as she expresses her love for Jungkook. 

Which makes you incredibly insecure, but Jennie and Jungkook have been friends for longer than you and him have been together, who are you to intervene? 

Jungkook slips in the driver’s seat, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

Right. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend, and that should matter more than his friendship with Jennie. 

But the smell of his freshly cleaned lacrosse jersey, his duffle bag overflowing with protein powder and unfinished assignments remind you that you have your world and he has his. A conversation about your insecurities could wait until tomorrow. 

“When’s Jimin’s flight?” Jungkook asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping on your thigh as he pulls out. 

“He’ll be back two hours into the dance,” you report, albeit glumly as you rest your head against the cool window. 

“That sucks,” Jungkook replies, a bit of sadness in his tone, “he has to miss out on his prom night.” 

You shrug, “Prom isn’t everything, it’s about the people you spend it with.” 

“Well then,” he squeezes your thigh, “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” 

You only have a few hours to get ready until you meet Jungkook at his house for pictures, so when you get dropped off, you tell him that he doesn’t have to get out of the car to escort you into your home. But Jungkook is insistent, putting the car in park and getting out your dress for you with such delicacy that you’re positively sure there’s no wrinkles in the fabric. Taking the dress from his grasp you wish him goodbye and a promise to meet each other later. 

“Wait,” Jungkook is biting his lip, unable to let go of your hand even though you’re already up the stairs. You’re looking down at him, a rarity considering his tall frame. 

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

“Uh, I was just thinking,” he’s scratching the back of his head, and you soften. The little quirk he has is a sign of insecurity, being the star player Jungkook is forced to exude confidence to a fault. “Maybe, we could skip the prom thing? You said so yourself that prom is about the people you spend it with.” 

Your eyes widen, clutching your dress tighter. “What? Jungkook, that’s ridiculous. Between the both of us we’ve spent a lot of money on the clothes and the tickets.” 

“Right,” he forces a laugh, and you put a hand on your hip to think it out but you can’t quite place what’s going on. “Sorry Bun, I just know how the finale of our favorite anime airs tonight.” 

“You’re so silly,” you chastise, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Normally he hates it, but you can’t help but melt when he leans into your touch a little more. “C’mon, I know suits are stuffy and stuff, but let’s just do this high school rite of passage thing. Afterwards we can go to McDonalds or something and watch the recording.” 

“You’re right,” his face is red, “what was I thinking? Can’t miss out on a night to see my beautiful girlfriend all dressed up.” 

He squeezes your hand one last time, a little too tight for comfort. With a half smile he waves, going into his car and driving off. 

You don’t have time to dwell on his weirdness (and trust when you say that Jungkook is plenty weird and it astounds you how the rest of your class has no idea) so you fly up to your room to get your hair and makeup ready. Your parents greet you excitedly along the way, telling you there’s a package left for you on your vanity.

It’s a plain cardboard box, already cut and unwrapped by your parents for convenience. The address shows it came from Korea, proudly displaying the name of your best friend on the return address. Inside is a beautiful compact, made of brushed gold and pink metal. The makeup inside is a loose glitter from a brand that you don’t recognize, but since it’s a gift from Jimin, you trust his taste. 

I have to be at prom somehow, Jimin’s note on the box reads, don’t overthink and have fun! 

You snort, reading the sticky note over and over in Jimin’s voice. Looking over the shade, you can’t help but grimace at the cliché name. Wishing Dust. The color is a little too white and silvery for your taste, but you’ll wear it in honor of Jimin. 

The dress, the hair, the makeup all come together little by little. You like the ritual of getting ready, building yourself up to the highest order and feeling closer and closer to the beautiful women in magazines. Surprisingly, your favorite part of getting ready is applying the glitter that Jimin gifted you. The puff enclosed is cloud soft, and surprisingly the color doesn’t look too ashen on your skin. The glitter sinks into your skin like a soft butter, accentuating your collarbones and cheeks as if you are glowing from within. 

You smile at yourself in the mirror. A little part of you wishes you could look like this everyday. You wish you could always look and feel this confident, and act mature and graceful. 

A buzzing on your desk stops your wishful thinking, and you frown at the message that lights up your phone. 

Jungkook: sorry bun, but the civic finally broke down and its on its way to car heaven. Could we meet at the party hall instead? We can take pictures there, jennie mentioned yearbook hired a photographer

Disheartened, you send a quick text back saying it’s fine. Any more explanation on your feelings would reveal your disappointment. You don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents that they won’t be taking pictures with your boyfriend anytime soon. So you suck it in and take solo pictures for your parents and some group selfies. This is just one bump in the night, the rest of it should be smooth sailing. 

But when your parents drop you off at the venue your eyes first land on a beat up Honda Civic. You’re pretty sure car heaven isn’t at the prom. 

The rest of your entrance is a blur as you go through every corner of the venue, searching for your boyfriend. You’re clutching his matching flower in your hand, a beautiful red rose with baby’s breath circling around it, all clutched together in a black silk ribbon. You wonder what kind of flower he bought you. 

But it’s nearly impossible to find him. Not at the photobooth, the appetizer buffet, or in the lobby. It’s not until you’re sweating at the brow and nearing the corner of the venue that you do find him.

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

The plastic encasing Jungkook’s boutonniere drops, clanging to the ground. 

Whispers of you circle the air, meeting your ears and confirming all your insecurities. 

“Oh my god, I knew Jungkook was cheating on her!” 

“Wow, how pathetic. She ran all the way to prom alone to see this?” 

“I thought his girlfriend was a smart girl. How did she not know that their relationship was a bet all along?” 

Jungkook and Jennie are on the balcony, looking picture perfect in matching formal attire and flowers. The sun is setting, not taking its time as it sinks deeper and deeper into the horizon. The sky darkens and the air is chilly, much like your heart. 

Jungkook's eyes are wide and in shock as he watches you from the balcony, but Jennie’s are sharp and satisfied. Satisfied, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated. 

While you can’t hear him because he’s so far away, you can see the ghost of your name on his lips. Your ears are ringing, numb to the laughter of the students watching and the pity that others are throwing at you. You feel dumb. You feel like throwing up. In a bout of anger your heel digs into the plastic of the boutonniere, crushing the innocent rose in its clear coffin. 

You don’t make it far out the door when one of your favorite teachers snatches you in concern. 

“Honey, any further and you’ll be running on the highway," Mrs. Song jokes, pulling you away from the entrance. 

You feel like a newborn deer in your heels and incredibly heavy in your dress as Mrs. Song drags you over to a staff bathroom. It's far, far away from the actual party. Mrs. Song doesn't say anything, and just gives you a sad smile as she let's you go into the single stall alone. 

Sitting on the toilet and not giving a care that your dress is probably getting soiled, you bury your face in your hands and finally let the tears flow. Fat, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks without a care in the world. 

"Mrs. Song please, I need to get in there." 

"Now Jungkook, I think you've done enough for today. Go back to the party and don't worry about it." 

You can imagine Jungkook now, he hated it when people told him not to worry.  It only made him more annoyed, fists probably clenched under his perfectly tailored suit and his cute teeth uncharacteristically gritted. He cared to a fault, at least you thought he did. He ruined your night, he made you feel so dumb and silly.

But the longer you stayed in the dim bathroom, you could care less. Thank goodness for Mrs. Song guarding the door. Why would he bother to follow you? It turns out all your insecurities are not in vain, and that you’ve been ignoring a gut feeling you’ve mistaken for your lack of trust. You shouldn’t have trusted Jungkook. You shouldn’t have been so tolerable of Jennie. 

Goodness, you feel so stupid. You hope that there are other bathrooms for staff to use, because you want to coop yourself in here until the last dance. Mascara drips on your sleeves, your hands swiping at your cheeks to stop any tears from staining your dress even further. 

The more you hear Jungkook and Mrs. Song argue, the more you want to disappear. You bury yourself on the floor, uncaring of how dirty the tiles are. Glitter smears across your cheeks and sticks to your hands, and you no longer feel like the thriving young adult you once felt when you walked out the door this evening.

All you can do is cry and pray you can get through the night. And the next day, and the rest of senior year. You don’t want to see Jungkook or Jennie until graduation, when they walk out of the door and permanently out of your life. You wish you could skip the rest of the semester, and fastforward to the life you’ve carved for yourself in your dreams since freshman year. You wish you could be like the woman on the magazine, who has her whole life put together. To be a woman who holds all the confidence in the world and doesn’t have to worry about stupid men. 

Just like the cover. Thirty, flirty and thriving. Just like the models in the magazines. Twenty-seven and in heaven. 

Just once, do you want to taste the feeling of having life on your side. 

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

Of course, falling asleep in a random bathroom stall will make you feel those things. Your dress clinging uncomfortably to your sweating form, lulled to the sounds of Mrs. Song’s temperamental voice and Jungkook’s arguing. 

But for some reason it’s a different kind of disgusting. The feeling is rotting in your throat, as if there’s a tang stuck to the roof of your mouth. You also feel impossibly dehydrated, as if you’ve run a marathon. And for some reason you’re sore? Especially in the crotch, and you don’t remember experiencing any cramps yesterday. 

Your hands come to your body, and instead of feeling tulle and taffeta your hands are greeted with a silky black negligee that hangs across your waist. Panic stings in your bones like a stroke of lightning. 

Eyes snapping open, your breath catches in your throat when you take in the room. You’re on a large plush creme couch, large enough to be a bed. The organza curtains are a shade of bottle green and are opened slightly to let the morning sun in. From your view it seems like this is the top floor of the complex, overlooking the city horizon. 

You feel the covers shift slightly, and you realize there’s a naked man sleeping next to you. You scream. 

The man screams back with an even higher pitch, falling off the couch and clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “What?” he panics, eyes darting back and forth across the room like he’s on a reality television show. “What the fuck? Is there something on my face! Why are you screaming so early!” 

The fact that he’s an adult man and you’re seventeen is even more terrifying, and you feel absolutely naked despite the fact that you’re nearly clothed. But what confuses you more is that this man looks awfully familiar. 

Familiar in the sense that you’ve seen him in one too many television sitcoms to count. This man in front of you looks like Kim Seokjin, the protagonist of your favorite television show: Sky City. He has the same plump lips and pretty face, only aged up. But last time you checked on Soompi, Seokjin is supposed to be twenty years old and filming the next season in New Zealand. Arguably he could be his older brother, but he never acted and you don’t think he’d be the spitting image. 

“Seokjin?” you taste the name on your tongue, “Kim Seokjin?” 

Seokjin relaxes considerably, and he finds it appropriate to return to the couch, placing a tentative hand on your thigh. “Right, were you really that drunk? You got my name right, but it seems that you’ve forgotten that the only name you called me last night was sex god…” 

His plush lips meet the ends of your earlobe, and you squeal at the strange sensation. 

You’ve had sex with this man and you can’t even remember it? Furthermore how can a peasant like you be in contact with a celebrity? What on earth happened last night? Shouldn’t you be calling the police or panicking more? Where’s the pepper spray and sharp knives where you need them? You can’t even find it in you to find a sharp weapon at your once cherished-idol, who’s apparently unfazed and drinking in your body like he has a taste of it every night. 

“What’s the date?” you push him away, looking around for any signs of where you are and how you ended up here. 

“It’s the first day of spring,” Seokjin says easily, stretching out on the couch. “I wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom. Should we have a picnic with Bogum?” 

“Where’s my phone, I can’t find my phone!” 

Seokjin doesn’t bat an eye as he digs through the couch, pulling something from under him. He waves it in front of your face. “That’s not my phone,” you deadpan. 

“Okay I guess you were actually that drunk,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, forcing the large piece of plastic and metal on your palm. “When you went to the bathroom last night you dropped your old phone in the toilet. We picked up a new one on the way to the next bar. Good thing the new Samsung dropped last month!” 

Since when are phones this large? You carry the strange weight in your hands, confused as to why Seokjin thinks this is your phone. You own a beat up 2G that barely gets any reception in the school basement. But when you turn it on, the screen recognizes your face immediately and unlocks. Wow, since when do cell phones do face recognition? 

A selfie of you and Seokjin appears on the homescreen, looking totally happy. 

Is that you? 

No longer do you have acne lining your brows, or uneven skin texture. Your smile is high and prominent. Your visage is clean and done with minimal makeup, highlighting your beauty. 

The date flickers on the top of the screen. March 20th, 2021: 7:42AM.

You scream again. Seokjin screams again for the heck of it. 

“How did this happen!” you shriek, dropping your phone to step up to the window. You bask in your reflection, mildly impressed and even more so afraid of what’s in front of you. Your body has filled out like an adult, and considering it’s ten years into the future, other things have filled out as well. Experimentally, your hands go out to your chest, squeezing. Yep, those knockers were not there the last time you checked. 

“Well, you came back from work completely drained from a shoot and I just finished filming my Everyday Skincare Routine video with Vogue,” Seokjin comes up to you, blanket tied around his waist like a long towel. “We met at our usual bar and do what we usually do when we’re both stressed: bang it out.” 

You watch as Seokjin’s hands snake around your slick silk, hugging you from behind like it’s second nature. “Is this a dream?” you ask yourself, because it’s not unlikely that you’ve had a sex dream with Seokjin and this is the aftermath dream. 

“Nope,” you yelp when Seokjin pinches your butt, hard. It stings. “This is real life, baby.” 

“Are we dating?” 

You feel Seokjin’s grip tense, and he shoves your innocent question away with a coarse laugh. “You know both you and me don’t do serious relationships. It’s why we work so well together, you know that.” 

“Right,” you reply softly. That doesn’t sound like you at all, and it scares you considerably. 

“So, I gotta go,” you panic when he lets go and starts searching around for his clothes. Your face heats up at Seokjin’s perky ass staring back at you, and your eyes dart to a random spot in the corner. “I got a green meeting with Ellen, and lord knows I don’t wanna face her wrath if I’m late.” 

In seconds he’s fully clothed in a plain shirt and jeans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Call me beep me, if you wanna reach me,” he sings, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he leaves you in the large apartment. 

The door slams with a hard smack and that’s when you collapse on the couch that feels foreign and strange, breaking into tears. 

The next time you wake up, it’s the next day. It��s a glaringly bright Sunday and for whatever reason you’re still in this aged-up body. Maybe time travel makes the body really tired. This isn’t a dream. You panic for the second time, walking back and forth around the loft that’s apparently yours. It seems like it’s yours, because the bills that linger on the coffee table have your name and the pictures in the one bedroom are of you and your family. 

But the refrigerator in the nook is digital and has fancy ice settings, something you could never imagine owning. Your closet is filled with brand named suits, and with every designer label you pass you mentally rack up the total of just one section. It’s enough to pay for your college tuition if your first choice accepts you. 

Wait. You’re apparently twenty-seven, college is long gone. 

Lying in your bed feels better, surrounded by familiar pictures of your cousins and family. Your favorite snacks are tucked with care in your nightstand, and it makes you feel a tiny bit better knowing that your favorite chocolate and chips will never change. 

What happened in the past ten years? Why don’t you remember anything and are you entirely sure this isn’t some strange fever dream? 

Time ticks slowly as you spend the afternoon, glued to your phone. It’s a 25 Note+ and it’s filled with multiple doohickeys and settings that make you feel technologically inept. You never thought you were bad with technology, but clearly these phones have a learning curve attached to them. 

You try to call your family, but according to the voicemail left they’re on a Disney cruise that you paid for. Your heart aches at the excited voice of your parents. Why are they on a vacation without you? 

The next thing you aim for is finding Jimin’s contact. According to Google Maps, you’re not far from your hometown and you know that Jimin’s always wanted to move to the city so he must be nearby. To your chagrin, his name isn’t on your contact list. Strange, he’s always number two on speed dial. 

Clicking on the internet browser, you go to the online Whitepages and search up Park Jimin. There may be a million ones, but maybe you could get a lead. When a picture and an address show up easily with one swipe, you scoff. The internet has no room for privacy ten years later, huh? 

The most casual thing you own in your closet is a Free People dress, reaching mid-calf with flowing bell sleeves. Heck, you couldn’t even find a single pair of jeans. You don’t care however, as you swipe your keys from the counter (you gape, you own a Tesla?) and race down to the parking garage. 

Jimin’s apartment is on the other side of the city. It’s strange, transitioning from high rises and shiny windows to quaint brick walls and lived-in patio spaces. You feel like it’s a race against time as you make it all the way to his room, knocking feverishly on the mahogany red door. 

“What? Who is it?” it’s clear that his room is cheap, the walls thin as you hear his voice shuffle throughout the room. Why are you shaking? It’s just your best friend. 

The door swings open and you and Jimin drink each other in. His baby fat has melted from his cheeks, revealing a handsome and charming jawline. His hair is no longer a natural black, but has been dyed to a sandy blond that suits his tan. His eyes, wide in surprise, are still a soft brown but not as bright as when he was seventeen. 

“Jimin,” your third round of tears hits you like a truck at the sight of your best friend, and you immediately run into his arms. 

But he doesn’t hug you back immediately. In fact, he doesn’t know what to do at all. Your name rolls off his lips like he’s seen a ghost. 

You pull away, as if you are burned. You flinch at the way Jimin regards you. “Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” he looks at you, crossing his arms, “I don’t know what to feel when your old best friend suddenly shows up at your doorstep after ten years.” 

What? 

“Why would I do that?” you whisper, bracing your hand against the doorframe to steady yourself. 

“Well, after graduation you chose a college at the last minute. Decided to go to a prestigious fashion university in Europe. Shacked it up with some British guys and well, forgot about your past but I guess I can’t blame you.” 

“But I couldn’t have left you,” you know you’re not even talking to Jimin, but in fact scolding yourself for being so stupid these past ten years. “I was crying for you that night at prom. All I wanted was for you to be there and hold me!” 

That strikes a cord. Jimin pops his head into the hallway, looking back and forth to see if anyone is watching. He sighs when your tears turn into sobs, shaking your form. “Come in,” he mutters, ushering you inside.

Jimin’s apartment feels more like home than your apartment does. Cosy and warm with the scent of jasmine brewing on the stove. The pour of tea soothes you slightly as you relax on the worn leather couch. 

Jimin hands you a mug, sitting opposite you against the rickety living room table. “Are you okay?” he asks, showing genuine concern for the first time. 

“I’m,” you roll the muddy liquid in your grasp, watching the tea leaves tumble. “I just came back from the hospital, actually. Hit my head drinking last night and I’m suffering from memory loss,” you clutch your head for good measure, feigning injury.  

“Memory loss?” he gapes, unable to see through your lie. 

“Yeah uh,” you wince, “almost ten years of memory loss.” 

Jimin isn’t a man who thinks ahead, preferring to live in the moment. You figure he’s not going to question your excuse. Your former best friend nearly drops his tea in the process, hot drops burning his hand. He hisses, placing the plain mug on the table as he goes to his shelves, pulling out your class yearbook. 

“Ten years,” he shakes his head, looking like he’s just stepped into a Korean drama. “Is that even possible?” 

“Must be,” you sigh, not wanting to delve into the details of how you ended up in the future, “the first thing I did when I woke up was scream my head off. Then I woke up later and the first person I called were my parents who didn’t pick up, and then I wanted to call you but,” you squeeze the cup in your hands, “I couldn’t find your contact so I searched you up.” 

“Should we call the hospital or something? Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around like this.” 

“Don’t worry, they said the memory loss is only temporary,” you force a smile, knocking your head lightly with the heel of your palm, “I just gotta y’know, catch up a little bit. I thought you could help.” 

Jimin is patient, albeit a little nervous, watching carefully as your eyes glaze emptily over the old yearbook. You’re unfazed at the familiar faces and events that are described to you in detail, unable to recall what happened during the events that followed graduation. There’s barely any pictures of you, so it doesn’t help when he tries to explain as much as he can. 

You stop him at the sports section, pointing a finger at Jungkook being carried by his fellow teammates during the lacrosse championships. “What happened to Jungkook?” 

Jimin shrugged, “Blew his sports scholarship,” your eyebrows float to the top of your forehead, appalled that your former love would do such a thing, “decided to pursue his passion and went to an art school for a degree in photography.” 

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

“I’m sorry,” you warble, wiping at your sleeve as if the fabric didn’t cost hundreds of dollars, “I must be making you so uncomfortable by barging in. I’ll get out of your life—”

“No, not that. I just don’t like seeing you cry,” Jimin sighs, squeezing your knee, “of course I was upset when you suddenly upped and left town to study in another continent. But I was still happy for you. On the internet you seemed tons happier since highschool.” 

“I can say that’s no longer the case,” you mutter sadly, taking a long drag of your tea. The burn flows down your throat, digging you to reality, “I guess I just woke up and wasn’t prepared to be the person I ended up being.” 

“Well, what can your former best friend do to make it better?” 

Your eyes widen at Jimin’s uneasy stare, as if he’s wondering whether he said the right thing or not. 

“Um,” you bite your lip, “will you go shopping with me? I realized I don’t own any sweatpants or sneakers and I would really like to wear something comfortable right now,” you look despondently on your uncomfortable dress, swinging around the sleeves that seem to snag onto everything. 

“Okay,” he nods easily, “will you also buy me new sweatpants and sneakers? And dinner? I really want a New York Strip.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, “can I afford that?” 

He chuckles to himself, pulling you up and wiping the tears on your face with a tissue from his pocket. You don’t even care to ask whether the tissue is clean, only focusing on the tender gesture that you’ve missed so much. 

“Honey, you’re one of the co-editors of Ego. I’m sure a couple pairs of sweatpants and steak will barely make a dent in your bank account.” 

You’re flabbergasted. Ego? The fashion magazine that’s on billboards and commercials? That Ego? 

After a couple checks through your bank account, and a triple check with a phone call and trip to the ATM, you’re sure the money is yours. It scares you, but also comforts you knowing that you’ve always been able to make it big. 

You barely bat an eye as Jimin tugs you around the city with a familiarity that has you reeling. You struggle to remember the streets you pass and the signs that indicate what part of town you’re in, all whilst Jimin basks in the fruits of your labor. You don’t give a shit, obviously. It makes you happy seeing Jimin slowly melt and grow more comfortable throughout the day. 

This is the kind of life you envisioned. One where comfort isn’t discarded for luxury, where the two cultures can marry. Jimin busts a gut when he sees you angrily shove your Free People dress deep in your shopping bags in favor of a black Adidas tracksuit that makes you feel like a soccer mom. Of course, he doesn’t know why you’re so aggressive with all your luxurious items, heck you even make him drive your Tesla, but nevertheless each passing hour brightens you up considerably.  

When you two arrive at a fancy steakhouse with a dress code, the manager doesn’t hesitate to chide you and suggest the Applebee’s down the street. 

You retort back that you’re an editor of Ego, and in seconds you’d have this restaurant swarmed with bad reviews. You know nothing about culinary review but you’re sure the manager doesn’t know that, and no arguments are placed after that. 

The evening puts you in higher spirits, and you’re almost convinced that you’re a successful twenty-something catching up with your former best friend. You’ve always been mature for your age, high school can do that to a person, and it makes it vastly easier to keep up with the new decade. 

“So,” you help Jimin get his bags up into his apartment. A little part of it feels like a bribe as you carry all the name brands on your arms, but you chalk it up to being compensation for the last ten years, “who are the people you hang out with now? Anyone I know?” 

“Well, Taehyung sometimes drops by if he’s free. He’s traveling the world now, he actually works with you,” Jimin provides the information smoothly, “only he works in the international business column. But surprisingly, the person I hang out the most with is—”

“Jungkook.” 

Standing face-to-face with your old high school sweetheart disarms you, and you’re sorely reminded that just you’re a seventeen-year-old in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body. 

Jungkook looks tired, and he rubs his eyes a bit as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. You in the flesh, looking purposeful and confident as you hold three bags on each arm, each piece probably costing more than his rent. He’s filled out, what once was lean muscle and minor definition has turned into full muscle mass hidden beneath a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are two sizes too big. His face is still sweet-looking and baby-like, but his hair is overgrown and waving in front of his eyes without a care in the world. 

“Did I mention we’re neighbors?” you can practically hear the wince in Jimin’s voice, probably regretting that he hid that chunk of information from you. 

Jungkook tastes his name on your lips, and it sounds foriegn and strange coming from the both of you. “Good to see you,” he says, voice low. 

You barely formulate a response, replying with an equally nervous “right back at ya” and then you two resume staring at each other. While Jungkook hasn’t seen you in the last ten years, you saw him yesterday. Yesterday, where you started the day all peachy keen and it spiraled downhill shortly after. It’s jarring, knowing that your body doesn’t fit your conscience. 

“Well I uh,” Jungkook lifts his indicator to leave, a large garbage bag, “bye.” 

Jungkook shuffles out of the small hallway, and you get a whiff of his scent. It’s still the same, fabric softener mixed with his own musk. 

“I,” you start off slow, “maybe I should go talk to him?” 

“No,” he warns. “You and Jungkook are completely different people now, he’s just gonna think you’re pitying him if you go up and talk to him out of the blue.”

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

“You really think that?” Jimin shakes his head, “I know what happened at prom was rough but, I really didn’t think much of your relationship with Jungkook before that. It seemed like you were pretty compatible—”

“Up until the point he was kissing Jennie in matching flowers on the balcony like some kind of romance film?” you scoff, crossing your arms, “right. Super compatible.” 

Jimin sighs, as if he’s chastising a teenager. “Prom happened ten years ago, don’t act like it happened yesterday. People change.” 

You frown, because in your mind it did happen yesterday. 

Sleeping last night was hell. It’s one thing to be completely zonked out of your mind and unsure if you’re in a dream or weird coma, but knowing that you’re going to be stuck here for awhile is painful. Your loft is too big for your tiny body, your mattress cold and empty with just you in it. Without your parents to call and you feeling wholly insecure about your rekindling with Jimin, the only person you can really call is… Seokjin. 

And you really don’t want a repeat of your first night. 

So you suck it up, spend your waking hours in your office and quickly learning your tasks for work. You don’t even know what time you’re supposed to clock in, but from a sticky note attached to your MacBook it seems that you have a creative meeting at 10AM. You allow yourself two hours of sleep before you get moving.

The one exciting thing about your morning is that your outfit choices are virtually limitless. You feel like Cher in Clueless, all your outfits color-coordinated and organized by season. You pick out a springy Chanel number, a pale pink tweed skirt suit that has you feeling equally parts cute and an independent working woman. You even make time to buy yourself a coffee, because that’s what adults do right? 

Your office is gorgeous. Also located in the upper part of the city, the glass desk and high windows fit right in. You have an ideas board filled with various designs, fabrics and models to choose from. There’s a little frilly notebook straight out of the 2000s, all filled with phone numbers and special contacts all at your disposal. You even have your own cold press coffee machine complete with a mini-fridge. 

“You’re never this early, nervous for the meeting?” 

You squeal, nearly dropping your coffee as you take a tour around your office. You fight the urge to gape and point accusingly at the woman standing at your door.

“Jennie?” 

“In the flesh,” she gives you a cool smirk, holding her arms out for a hug. It really throws you for a loop, and you’re left stricken in your spot as Jennie closes the gap and squeezes the life out of you. Her grey pinstripe pantsuit crumples against your softer fabric. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Jennie and you are practically besties,” Jimin sounds a little jealous while saying that, forcing you to scroll through your Instagram page to see the countless selfies of you and your high school rival, “I mean, at least that’s what the internet says. Went to college in Europe together and everything.” 

So it’s true. You awkwardly pat Jennie on the back, and she doesn’t seem to mind when she pulls away and tells you to meet upstairs. You mindlessly follow after her to the conference room, wishing a kind good morning to everyone that greets you. 

Once you make it upstairs, you flinch at the loud screech of your voice. “My favorite editor!” someone in a plaid red suit runs up to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. The editor-in-chief Jung Hoseok smiles brightly at you, leading you to a seat at the head of the table right next to him. You’re cosy with the editor-in-chief? This is crazy! 

“G-good morning Mr. Jung,” you stutter, trying to remain cool. 

“Did something happen to you this weekend?” Hoseok jests, pinching your cheek like a long lost sister. “You always call me Hobi.” 

“Oh,” you force a giggle, “you don’t even know how crazy this weekend was.” 

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

“I’m so jealous,” Jennie sing-songs, a manicured finger trailing over the back of your chair, “only the best of the best can sit next to the big boss.” 

The comment has you bristling. Are you really friends? Giving her a tight smile, she saunters to another corner of the meeting. On your section of the table is your itinerary and iPad, ready for note-taking. 

“One thing that we do at Ego is consistency,” Hoseok pulls up a projection of this year’s editions, all carbon copies of the same cover. “And while that is admirable, I want to put my top editors to the test and come up with the theme for next month’s issue.” 

Hoseok sends you yet another pearly white smile, and due to the sheer closeness you know that secret smile is only reserved for you. That makes you squirm in your seat, already feeling the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Take two days off this week to plan. Work out the days you’ll be out of the office with HR, those days you’ll be working in the city, finding ideas and inspiration for the issue. Remember, think outside the box!” Hoseok does a little fist pump, cutting through the air like his life depends on it. 

The whole lot of the group continues to stare at Hoseok, waiting for his next instructions. Then, the adults begin to panic, similar to a high school class that’s been told they have a pop quiz that’s worth half their grade. You sigh internally, you suppose high school never ends. 

“C’mon,” Hoseok urges, flailing his arms around, “get out there! Make moves, make money!” 

But the only moves you’ve made since 2PM are fleeting trips to the bathroom. 

Obviously you don’t have any memory of your degree or experience, so instead of feeling like an editor you feel more like a teenager playing dress-up. You couldn’t even sneakily ask Jennie for help because she deadpanned: “I’m not sharing any secrets, doll.” It seems that being backhandedly mean is a theme in your relationship, so after that you rolled your eyes and locked your door. Thankfully you packed a pair of sweatpants so you can comfortably lie down on the floor while you spread out your workspace. Magazines littered the hardwood, all sultry and sexy looking models staring back at you with the same half-lidded stare and overdone makeup. 

It makes you cringe, thinking back to the other day when you were jealous of these people. Now that you have this life, thriving and full of beauty, is that the only thing you want to show to your audience? How can they possibly relate to models who make triple their salary? What about the authenticity? The ingenuity? 

And that’s when it hits you. 

Scrambling to your computer, you search up a photographer that you know will be completely and utterly transparent. 

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

You know exactly what you want for next month’s issue. 

Jungkook does not expect to see you through the peephole of his apartment, fiddling with the threads of your clothes and eyes glued to the ground. He mutters a curse under his breath, jamming his fingers between the metal double lock to swing his head out. He doesn’t even bother to open up all the way, just enough to stick his face out. 

“Jungkook, hi!” he still can’t believe you’re around. Jungkook winces at your tone, high and sounding like a teenager. He thought by now you’d be traveling the world, climbing to bigger and better things. Then again, the upper part of the city is certainly an upgrade. He just thought you’d want to be far, far away from him. “I b-brought you McDonalds.” 

You hold up a greasy bag of fast food, and his nose immediately responds to the smell of fresh fries and a quarter pounder (with cheese, of course.) It annoys him that you still know his weakness, but he isn’t going to go that easily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks a little too sharply, hands gripping the doorknob. 

“I wanted to offer you a job,” you get straight to the point, as if you know your time at his doorstep is limited. 

He scoffs, “You? Want to put my photos on Ego? You know my business extends to weddings and the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Why would you want me?” 

You frown, crossing your arms. He looks down at your attire, a nicely fitted suit on top, but the skirt is replaced with grey sweatpants. Comical, really. “I’ve always loved your photos,” you admit to him, “you know that. And they’ve gotten so much better since then.” 

The furrow between Jungkook’s brows softens a fraction, smoothed by the honesty in your voice. You’re right, you always made sure to tell Jungkook how much you loved his other talents. Namely, the photography, and sometimes his singing. He can still remember how easily you slept in his arms watching Sky City for hours, all at the melody of your favorite song. While his teachers and classmates loved to venerate his position on the team and his ability to garner attention, you encouraged him to work on the things that mattered to him the most, even in secret. 

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

“I don’t need your charity,” he spits, “Jimin might be able to be bought by some designer clothes and an eighty dollar steak, but not me.” 

The pain in your gaze is glaringly evident, and you don’t even try to hide that you’re upset as the paper bag falls against your lap. If there’s one thing Jungkook knows he’s good at, is hurting your feelings. 

“You think this is charity?” you whisper, hurt delicately lacing your voice. 

“Are you kidding? Last month you got Xu Minghao to photograph your spread for Ego. He’s photographed the damn Queen of England,” if you notice that he’s babbling about reading your magazine, you don’t show it in your face, “the point is, I don’t understand why you’re trying to come into my life again. I don’t want to get involved in your fancy dinner galas or anyone else from high school. So please, just go back to your picture perfect life.” 

And without another qualm he slams the door in your face, effectively shutting you out. It doesn’t feel as good as he wants it to feel, clearly. He feels even shitter than before. His eyes glaze over to his rickety coffee table, cluttered with bills and credit card payments that should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. 

He slugs himself over to his couch, throwing his body over the couch that’s way too short. His legs dangle in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunset. The bills can wait a little longer. Seeing you was too draining. 

The nap turns into a full-fledged night’s sleep, and by the time he wakes up the sky is dark and it’s the start of a new day. 12:08, the screen of his iPhone confirms. Feeling even crustier and worse than before, his stomach decides to harden the blow and go straight for the gut. He’s sorely reminded of the food you offered him hours ago. 

Quickly pulling on a large denim jacket, he grabs his keys and heads for the 7-Eleven down the park. Nothing like a frozen pizza to fill the gut, fast and cheap. Despite the fact that it’s dark and late, there're still some stray people in the park. A few homeless, some high school stoners who are meeting in secret, and you are typing away on your MacBook. 

Wait, what? 

You’re sitting on a bench in the park, typing away without a care in the world. Shoving soggy fries that he earlier refused in your mouth, you let a couple stray potatoes hang from your lips as your eyes succumb to the screen. You look positively silly, still in a pink blazer and baggy sweatpants. 

He must have been staring a little too long, because soon enough you turn your head, gasping at his figure. You quickly avert your eyes, but don’t make any move to leave the park. That interests him further. 

Shamelessly, he calls your name. His legs get to you in an instant, towering over your tiny figure. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m waiting for Jimin,” your eyes flicker to your open laptop, “and working.” 

At least one of those reasons is a lie. Last time he checked, Jimin always sleeps over at Yoongi’s house on this day. He knows it’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie, but neither of you make the effort to correct it. 

“And what could you possibly be working on at 12AM?” 

“Finding a photographer,” you hunch over your laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have much time and none of my usual contacts are good enough. This project is… personal.” 

It makes him want to ask further, he can’t lie and say he isn’t intrigued in the kind of vision you’re going for in your next issue. “But why can’t you work at home?” 

“Don’t wanna go,” you reply casually, “it makes me feel lonely.” 

Lonely? You feel lonely? He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the display of nonchalance. Back in high school he always encouraged you to feel confident, but not like this. “Hey, it’s nice that you feel comfortable enough to chill in the park at 12AM, but it’s really dumb. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten mugged from all that money you’re carrying around!” he gestures to your fancy clothes and laptop, “and if you feel so lonely, call up one of your rich friends I’m sure they’ll—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you slam your laptop shut, darkening the two of you. “I thought you wanted me to go back to my ‘picture perfect life’, so why do you care?” you get up in his face, standing on the bench so you’re nearly eye-to-eye, “why don’t you pester those kids over there? Tell them to drink their milk and go home,” you scoff, shoving your stuff in your bag. You don’t spare him another glance as you stalk off in the other direction. 

He groans, unable to untangle himself from the mess, “Where are you going?” 

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

Despite the exchange for sweatpants, you’re still wearing shoes not fit for walking. They’re little white pumps, not too tall but not remarkably comfy either. However, that doesn’t deter you from getting the heck out of there, seemingly walking in any possible direction to get away from Jungkook. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he chastises once his hand clasps around your hand, pulling you around. 

There’s a little resistance, as you try to hide your face to no avail. Jungkook fumbles a little, not thinking you’d be crying. But tiny, shy tears are pooling around your eyes, looking flustered at your display of emotion.

“God,” you mutter to yourself, “I feel like such a kid.” 

That strikes a chord in the twenty-something man. The last time he saw you in the flesh was when you were both kids. Young, unbridled, and stupid. Well, only Jungkook was the stupid one. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Jungkook offers, feeling guilty about his roughness. 

You shake your head. “No, I told you I don’t want to.” 

“Can I at least call you a cab? Or a friend so you won’t get lonely?” 

“Jungkook, if I had that option would you think I’d be here right now?” he’s trying, he really is. But you’re equally as miffed about this whole situation and at a loss. The two of you engage in a staring contest. It only takes a few seconds for you to crumble, and he frowns when you shiver in your thin blazer. 

Instantly, he rips off his jacket, pulling it over your body. It’s huge on you, swallowing your body and hopefully containing some of his residual heat. 

And finally, he relents. “If you want, I’ll come over and stay until you fall asleep.” 

“Okay,” your eyes widen in instant agreement, pulling something out of your pocket. “Will you drive?” 

His eyes widen at the shiny, minimalistic car key. Your sudden one-eighty has him second guessing his decision. “You drive a Tesla?” he gapes, taking your key like he’s holding the Hope Diamond. 

You got your license in February. One month ago, and only because the instructor felt pity on you since it was your second time retaking it. The fancy car terrifies you, and you’re sure Jungkook has much more experience driving (over ten years worth.)  

You shrug, “Not very good at driving. Haven’t had much practice.”

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

“It does?” you tilt your head, dazed, “wow, technology is amazing.” 

He shakes his head, putting a hand on your back so you can lead the way. You must be tired, because it seems like your head isn’t entirely there anymore. He takes charge, buckles you in and takes a couple minutes to fumble with the car settings. Nevertheless the drive home is smooth (and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to not squeal in excitement when the Tesla does in fact, drive itself.) 

You lead him inside your loft like a tiny zombie, throwing your shoes to one corner and throwing your jacket on the kitchen table. 

“Must be hungry,” you can’t even form complete sentences, “there’s food in the fridge, Kook. Sorry if it’s not to your taste.” 

Shuffling away to your room, Jungkook is left to gawk at your apartment. The baseboards of your walls are crusted in pretty pearl designs, swirling around the whole expanse. There’s a television that stretches the wall of the little living room, with a sound and video game system he’s only seen in movies. Your tables are meters and meters of granite, and he wonders how the floor of your apartment can hold all this weight. 

But he supposes it’s because there’s nothing much to hold. No pictures line the walls, only vague looking art to fill up blank space. There’s no touch of warmth despite the heating system under the floor that relaxes his toes. For such a big home, he can only imagine how small you must feel in it. 

Your fridge is just as empty, decorated with a couple of sad-looking salads and some protein shakes. He sighs, grabbing two chicken salads and a banana shake and bringing it to your coffee table. It’s a little two quiet for his liking, so he turns on the television real low just to make the room feel a bit fuller. 

Halfway through one salad he realizes he probably should’ve made you eat as well. Even though these salads aren’t remotely filling, they’re much healthier than some soggy fries. A piece of limp lettuce hangs from Jungkook’s mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for soaking up all of your amenities without inviting you. After all, it is your house. Wiping some sauce from his lips he dusts off his pants, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he makes his way to your room. 

Calling your name, the only reply is the whir of the heater. He only cracks the door a tad, but he sees you slumped against the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging from the end. You barely made it, your clothes strewn across the floor, an oversized t-shirt ruched across your barely covered thighs. Without a thought he quickly scrambles to move you closer to your pillows, and then wraps your body in your plush duvet. You’re out like a light. 

You’re sleeping, so Jungkook should go home. That’s what you two agreed to. He goes back to his late dinner (early breakfast?) mindlessly listening to an infomercial on rare dollar coins. He’ll leave after he eats. 

He didn’t leave. 

Jungkook awakes to a scream, your shrill voice echoing all the way down the hallway into your living room. It takes a second for him to register the empty white walls and the fact that he’s not in his apartment, but eventually it goes back to the point that you’re in distress. He jolts, scrambling off the couch to run to your bedroom. 

“What is it?” he exhales into your doorframe, socks sliding. 

Your hair is in a disarray, shirt rumpled and face scrunched in pain. You shove your phone in his face. “Since when did Iron Man die!” you cry, genuinely horrified at whatever entertainment article you’re reading. 

He slumps against the wall, running a hand over his dry face. “Since Endgame, obviously. That was literally two years ago. Is that why you woke me up?” 

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

“Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Or something,” you frown, throwing your phone across your bed, “I guess I should go get ready for work.” 

Jungkook watches as you shamelessly hop off your bed, uncaring that your shirt has ridden up, revealing the full expanse of your thighs and then some. You pull out a pair of sweats from a shopping bag, nicking off the tag to put them on your legs. 

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

“Uh, no,” Jungkook coughs, crossing his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s had a solid gig. Two whole weeks have been spent doing more personal work which was fine, but at the same time his bank account could beg to differ. “I’m off today.” 

“Oh, alright,” you shrug, “do you know where I can buy a good camera?” 

“Why?” 

“Gonna go take pictures,” you snatch your wallet and keys from your bedside, stuffing it in a fanny pack. He watches you curiously as you zip your bag shut, muttering something about how you can’t believe that fanny packs are back in style. Swinging the strap over your back, you brush past him. “You can stay if you want,” you add pointedly, before you slip into the bathroom. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand as to why he’s slipping into sensory overload. The house is a shell of itself and the antithesis of a rainbow. Maybe it’s the fact that he woke up ten minutes ago or how you look completely peaceful and want to leave as soon as you wake up. Or how shocked you were that Iron Man has passed and you’ve completely missed Phase 3. Or that you’re not even thinking about breakfast or not wishing him a farewell, practically throwing him into your apartment like a second home. 

He wobbles back to the couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he drapes the fuzzy blankets over his body. He flips through the channels, before finally settling on an old episode of Sky City. 

When you walk out into the living room, you scrunch your face in pain when you make eye contact with Kim Seokjin’s on screen appearance. Oh, how things change. Jungkook knew how much you loved watching Sky City, indulging in the protagonist's attractiveness. 

“Y’know,” Jungkook says over his shoulder, “if you leave me here, I could steal whatever I want.” 

“Go ahead,” you reply flippantly, already slipping on your sneakers. “There’s nothing of value here.” 

What is wrong with you? 

“Wait!” Jungkook throws all his pride at the window, unable to conceal his worry for you. Half your body is out the doorway, and you’re looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His voice takes up the entirety of the room, startling you. “I need to come with you,” he finally settles on, looking serious. “You’re going to buy the wrong camera.” 

“Okay,” you concede immediately, throwing the keys on the couch, “you drive.”

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

You don’t know how to act around him. Your heart is hurt and your body is a decade older than it was a week ago and everything in your life and mind is a complete wreck. It still aches to look at him, despite the fact that you want him around, all the time. You wish you could know a little more about your adult life, you feel like a proverbial Bambi sitting in a car worth more than your childhood home. It’s a wobbly, shaky road to adulthood, and you’re not having it. 

Jungkook sleeping over is the last thing you thought would happen last night. You didn’t even think he’d relent to coming to your house, since he was pretty hellbent on not being your photographer. 

But now he’s driving your Tesla again, after you instructed him to park the car where you parked it last time. That way, you can go back to the playground you were in the night before. You have a vision for the issue and it starts there. Fiddling around with the expensive camera Jungkook picked out, you feel his gaze burning into your shoulder. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” you ask archly, “I read the manual and everything. Or are you just being a perfectionist again?” 

“What’s wrong with being a perfectionist?” Jungkook shoots back, putting the car in park. As soon as the car stills in the parking lot, he grabs the camera from your grasp like a petulant child. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break it. Face it, you’re terrible at technology.” 

“Excuse me! I have a Samsung 25+ and a Tesla!” 

“Yeah? So why did I catch you struggling to use your pay feature on your phone when we grabbed coffee?” 

“It’s new,” you mutter under your breath. Everything is new to you. 

With a growl you snatch back the camera, and Jungkook for once doesn’t act like a baby with a sharing complex and relents. Of course, Jungkook manages to calibrate the camera and figure out the color balance before you could. This only annoys you further, wondering why Jungkook is still sticking around after all this time. 

“Alright,” you step out of the car, slinging the camera around your neck. “Thanks for driving me around, your apartment’s just down the street, right?” You dart your hand out, and Jungkook reluctantly hands over your key beeper. Maybe it’s because he seems to love the car so much, that he has a hard time giving it back. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait,” is that his word of the day? Wait wait wait. 

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

He’s never seen you so full of negative emotions. You’ve been waiting for him to tire of you all day, from your clipped replies and unease ever since you two stepped out of your apartment. 

“Um,” he looks embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, “are you really going to take pictures? You always took really blurry pictures in high school.” 

The mention of high school has you icy, gripping the matte black digital camera to hold your feelings at bay. “Yes, I’m going to go take pictures because the photographer I wanted so rudely rejected me,” you revel in the way he shrinks, probably regretful already. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline.” 

He continues to follow you, all the way to the park. You make your way to a little garden, and start to take some test photos next to the little daisies that decorate the patch of dirt. You practically feel Jungkook breathing down your neck, feeling antsy everytime you click the shutter. Ignoring him is difficult, especially when he makes little noises of discomfort when you presumably do something wrong. 

“Jungkook, are you going to say something?” you seethe, not caring that the heavy camera strains your neck when it falls against your chest, “or are you just going to make me wait.”

Jungkook’s face is scrunched up, and finally he blurts, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

“For saying your life is picture perfect,” he sputters quickly, looking very sweaty. Jungkook always got sweaty when he did things a little too hard. Playing sports, thinking, campaigning on video games. “I—I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I guess I was just upset at myself and I took it out on you.” 

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

“I’m upset because I—I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he plops down on the nearest bench, and while you follow him, you don’t let yourself sit next to him. If you do, you know your subconscious will want to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. That would probably be the worst possible action to perform. “I don’t really do the whole photoshoot thing. Like I said, I’m just doing some weddings and parties here and there. I shouldn’t have said those things about Jimin and how you’re only talking to us out of charity. It’s my fault for not considering how complicated your life could be too,” he looks down at the ground, shameful, “so if you still want me, I would really like to photograph for Ego. And I would also really like that camera back.” 

Unable to resist, you reach over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “I forgive you,” you reply numbly, thinking he was going to apologize for something else. You suppose he’s forgotten about that fateful prom night, just like everyone else. “It’s actually not for Ego, at least not yet. My boss is pitting us against each other, the best idea wins the cover theme.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll win,” his face eventually breaks into a grin when you remove the camera from your body. “Come to daddy, baby,” he cooes, holding the shiny new camera in his hands like a newborn. 

“Gross,” you twitch, although you’re feeling all the more relieved knowing Jungkook will now be taking the visual reins. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the contract made up, but being paid five-hundred okay?” 

“Five-hundred a week?” 

“No, per day,” you correct, “why wouldn’t I pay you just like I pay the others?” 

Jungkook’s dark brows fly to his forehead. He practically chokes on his spit at the way you put Jungkook in high regard. A blush overtakes his visage, proud and pink as he rushes to get away from you. 

“You don’t even know my concept,” you called after him, chasing the midday sun. 

Jungkook is already in position, fitting the lens between two buildings. The afternoon sun looks like an egg yolk, melting between the clouds. “Well then is it?” he asks, bending down on one knee to get the perfect angle. 

“Well, yesterday when I thought of the idea I just wanted to be reminded of how easy being a kid was,” you don’t even know if Jungkook’s listening properly, given the rapid click click clicks of the shutter and Jungkook constantly moving around to get as many shots as possible. “I realized that not everyone can relate to the models or the clothes we advertise on Ego. Why would I want to see people I actually admire? Like, my friend’s older brother. Or Jimin, president of the drama club. Or even Jungkook, captain of the lacrosse team.” 

“So, nostalgia. The 2000s are back in style, I like it,” he replies simply, tilting the camera towards you, “pose for me.” 

“What? Jungkook,” you frown, holding a hand over your face. He doesn’t relent, continuing to snap you in different angles. 

“Oh! That was a nice one,” he turns the camera to reveal the screen of your furrowed brows, hand over your face, “looks super grunge. Totally a throwback look.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t model. I’m just the one who throws the ideas.” 

“Yeah, but. Wouldn’t it be cool if the readers of Ego could see the genius behind the paper and ink?” he gestures vaguely to your outfit, “and you’re wearing Fila. So that’s like, kind of designer?” 

“I don’t know,” you hug yourself, “I’ll think about it, okay? Let’s focus.” 

“Fine,” Jungkook stops buzzing around you, putting the camera down and following you as you walk back to your car. You don’t think you really need anymore park photos, and Jungkook seems to telepathically agree as well. 

“We need to plan some outfits and some backgrounds. I’ve already arranged a meet up tomorrow in front of our old high school with a couple of models. The school is on a grade-wide trip, so we’ll even have access to the track and field. I was also thinking disposable film? We could scan those.” 

“Alright, who are your models?” 

“Oh, you know. Just friends from school. I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. Taehyung flew back from Hamburg last night, so he said he’ll come. Jimin, obviously.” 

“Well you only had like, two friends in highschool.” 

“And you,” you clip on with a frown, “so don’t dress like a potato sack tomorrow, okay?” 

“I’m not modeling.” 

“Well, I’m still looking for a celebrity model to tack onto so. Don’t look like a chump.” you stick out your hand, while Jungkook pouts at your outstretched limb. If he feels sore that you called him a chump, he doesn’t comment on it when he clasps his larger hand in yours. “Partners?”

“Partners.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me your celebrity model was him?” 

“I specifically told you not to dress like a paper bag. Why did you continue to do so!” 

“You didn’t specify that your model was Kim Seokjin!” 

The current conversation is hushed, hissed between large reflective light panels and a parked car that held all your rented equipment. Currently, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin are huddled on the bleachers of your old stomping grounds, laughing at whatever funny video Seokjin has pulled up. They’re all dressed in variants of the same sweatsuit, a combination of Taehyung’s choosing since he’s one of the many color coordinators at Ego. 

But you haven’t started yet, and you would like to get some morning shots in before it gets any warmer. Jungkook is still petulant, pretending to buy time by balancing his tripod. He’s wearing his Birkenstocks, so old they’re definitely the same pair from highschool, and yet another black sweatsuit. 

“Seokjin’s like a big, fat cheeseball,” you assure Jungkook, who’s actually shaking from being in the presence of a celebrity. “No reason to be nervous.”

“That man has literally been part of our Sitcom Sundays for three years,” he gripes, “of course I’m nervous!” 

“Just go to the car. If you want to change I’m sure Taehyung’s brought something that fits you.”

“Well if they see me change they’re gonna see I’m trying too hard,” Jungkook pouts, he actually pouts. 

“I can’t,” you turn around, your Miss Frizzle-esque solar system dress whirling around your waist. The stars twinkle, glittering into Jungkook’s eyes. “Jungkook, do whatever you want. But we need to start in ten! No, five! I’m not paying you to try on Balenciaga and Off-Brand!” 

If Jungkook is shocked by your sudden snippiness or need to get things wrapped up, he doesn’t say anything to it. For once, he’s quiet about his needs and you’re thankful for it. Once he’s gone, you have a chance to breathe. It’s all wholly overwhelming to dive right into the job. Your brain is still in 2011 unfortunately.

“Babe, everything alright?” 

Seokjin appears behind you, having ditched Jimin and Taehyung after he saw you and Jungkook argue. He smooths his hands over your biceps. You’re still unsure over the exact nature of your adult-self’s relationship, but it seems that sans sex you two are relatively close with each other. 

“M’fine,” you mumble tiredly, trying not to stiffen under his hold. You suppose Jimin isn’t going to be the friend you confide into this lifetime. “I’m just nervous. We’re doing all this work and it can potentially go down the drain after this week. What if my idea’s stupid and we’re wasting time? Jennie texted me that her concept is going to be killer and now I’m scared this concept is too aesthetically soft and people don’t care about nostalgia anymore and I feel like simultaneously throwing up and crying—” 

“Whoa whoa, who’s replaced my confident editor and where did she go?” Seokjin decidedly goes with the notion that you’re definitely not fine. He swings his neck back and forth, peering behind the bleachers and over the football field. “My confident editor would never talk bad of herself like this! She commanded a whole crew of fifty within seconds when she did the Kim Taeyeon shoot in Milan! She never cowers under a challenge, the challenge cowers to her!” and in his gallancy you no longer try to shy away, in fact you even giggle at his silly way of comforting you. “And most importantly, she’d never compare herself to a wench like Jennie.” 

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to swipe the moisture right under your waterline, making sure any traces of your crying are undetectable. “W-wait,” you sputter, “you mean, me and Jennie aren’t actually friends?” 

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Even now, you’re such a good actress.” 

You let Seokjin continue to hold you as the pieces in your empty mind come together. If Jennie is truly not your friend and you two have been faking it all this time, how serious is it? And if so, are you the competitive type? You know for sure Jennie is, and will she stop at nothing to make sure she gets the spread? 

This fear is combined with an equal amount of sadness. You were a little excited to have a lasting friend from college, but your mother always told you to never believe anything on the internet. You suppose those selfies of you and Jennie on your Instagram are nothing but a facade. 

But at the very least Seokjin’s care for you isn’t fake, and you’re thankful that you have at least one friend in this life. If you didn’t do this time skip, would Seokjin remain your only friend? You try not to think too hard about it, “Thanks, Seokjin. I really appreciate you.” 

“Will you appreciate me tonight then?” Seokjin makes a move to kiss your neck, and the moment is promptly ruined. 

Shoving him away you say firmly, “Touch me like that again and I’ll rip your dick off in front of this whole crew.” 

“I love it when you get feisty,” Seokjin melts, but salutes you like a drill sergeant as he runs back to the men on the bleachers. 

It’s then you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. Tall, dark, and emanating. He’s changed, in favor of some fitted jeans and a plain white shirt, paired with black boots. Jungkook is behind you, glaring over your shoulder at Seokjin. So much for showing off your professionalism. Crap, how much of that did he hear? 

“Jungkook, I–”

“Let’s start,” he mutters gruffly, stepping past you to get to the equipment. 

You slap a hand over your face. It’s going to be a long day. 

However, the hours following are probably one of the brightest hours of your life since you’ve appeared in your future-self’s body. At first Jimin was anxious at your invitation, despite being in the high school plays and being okay at public speaking, he didn’t know he’d have the potential to be a model. A couple test shots and some coaching from Taehyung, Jimin is a natural, his photogenic energy strong enough to compete toe-to-toe with Seokjin. 

You also have to hand it to Taehyung, who has been running back and forth between modeling and choosing outfits for the boys. Jimin and you didn’t run in the same group as Taehyung back in high school, but time changes things and if given the opportunity, you would’ve loved to be friends with him back then. 

By the time you are done for the day and you feel like all the possible shots have all ready been taken, you circle around the school. You previously went inside empty classrooms, posed in the cafeteria, even pretended to reenact your school rendition of RENT in the auditorium. 

Everything is mostly packed up and put into the car by the time the sun is setting, and you just wanted to perfect this one shot. 

The gymnasium looks a lot smaller than it did as a child. As a teenager, you constantly feared getting hit in the face by a stray wiffleball, or throwing up during the pacer test after the 100th lap. But now, it just looks like an old gym. 

“It smells like sweaty balls in there,” Taehyung curses, adjusting the patterned button down by smoothing down his chest. He jabs a finger in the boys locker room, where Jimin comes out with another new outfit. 

“I think the sandwich I left in senior year is still there,” Jimin adds, pulling the collar around his burgundy knitted sweater. 

The back of the gym is decorated in balloons. Overnight you managed to build a balloon ring off of Pinterest, one of your proudest moments as you made Jungkook haul the rainbow colored arc and shove it into the trunk. Seokjin is sitting directly under the arc, decorating a letter corkboard. It’s one of those cork boards all the teachers display in class, often decorated with some witty quote or a basic “Welcome to Mr/Mrs/Miss _____’s Class!” 

Jungkook is setting up the camera on a tripod, wanting to do it the old fashioned way. Aside from the freakout he had in the beginning when he realized he was photographing Kim Seokjin, he’s been quiet and strictly professional throughout the whole ordeal. It’s amazing to see this side of him, as he seamlessly transitions from shoot to shoot knowing exactly what he has in mind for each photograph. His direction is soft but impactful, and the boys have no problems following directions. 

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

Working like this is a rush you can’t even imagine. In high school the path you were in the process of choosing wasn’t clear cut up until this point, but now you know exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life. 

Seokjin holds the finished corkboard in the middle, a proud Class of Ego in white block letters. 

Jungkook only gets a few shots in before Seokjin bemoans, letting the corkboard fall in his lap. 

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

“Because you two aren’t in it!” Taehyung agrees easily, “c’mon, JK. Put your camera on timer mode and let’s have all of us in it!” 

A blush melts on Jungkook’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “What? No, that’s silly Tae. I really don’t—agh!” 

The three men are in a controlled frenzy, aiming to get their mission done. Seokjin rounds the camera and makes quick work of enabling a timer and a burst shot. Jimin pulls you by the waist, tugging you ungracefully to the center of the arc. Taehyung is doing a pretty good job of hauling your muscle hunk of a photographer, pressing his shoulders across yours. 

And finally, Seokjin hands you the corkboard. “You should be holding it. After all, you’re the brains behind it!” 

At first it feels awkward, squished between new friends and old friends. First loves and last loves. Despite his warm bicep pressing against you, Jungkook is akin to a sheet of cardboard, arm-to-arm and stiff as a board. 

“Alright people, let’s move it!” Seokjin yells unnecessarily loud, the noise echoing throughout the high walls. “Last couple shots here, and we’re not re-doing it because I’m tired as hell! So look alive and pretend to like each other!” 

The first click of the camera stuns all of you, akin to many terrible school photos where the flash disarms you and your face twists. But that click suddenly gets Jungkook into gear, and you feel him slide a hand over your shoulder, squeezing you toward him so you’re pressed against the side of his chest. He still smells like floral fabric softener, and that makes you smile. 

And suddenly you feel like you’re seventeen again, surrounded with the people you care for the most. 

“So, the tabloids are true huh?” Jimin smirks, waving a flimsy fry in your face. 

“T-tabloids?” you sputter, dabbing the ketchup off your cheek. The greasy burger slips off your grip and onto your plate.  Your expression says it all, it’s painfully innocent and genuinely confused as you attempt to swallow the cheese and lettuce as fast as possible. 

The crew sans Seokjin is eating a very late dinner with you at the restaurant of their choice. They put it to a vote, while you desperately wanted some McDonalds everyone else voted for a more high end restaurant. After all, you’re paying. 

“Ah, don’t try playing coy with us,” Taehyung jests, “the office talks.” 

“Well, whatever you’ve heard isn’t true,” you huff, crossing your arms. “At least, not anymore.” 

“What?” Taehyung bugs out, “I thought you loved your no strings attached relationship with Jinnie.” 

“I guess I did,” you frown, deflating against the plush booth, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I liked back then.” 

You resume eating your burger, trying to ignore the worried look Jimin sends you. He reaches over the table to press his thumb to the little 11s in your forehead, a product of stress. “Does your head still hurt?” he asks. 

Jungkook’s chewing slows considerably. He’s been strangely quiet this evening, opting to order a handful of appetizers and gorging on every single edible thing on the table like a glutton. But at Jimin’s question he turns his head to look at you, “Why would your head still hurt?” 

“She hit her head when she went out drinking with Seokjin last week,” Jimin supplies, “messed with her memory.” 

“Chim,” you frown, gently shoving him off you, “I’m fine now. Pretty much caught up. Just reevaluating my life choices, okay?” 

“How could Seokjin let that happen?” Jungkook asks, putting his fork down. 

“He wasn’t even there,” you shake your head, trying to clear Seokjin’s name as fast as possible. After all, this lie is completely fabricated, a blanket to cover the magical properties your true nature being here has. “I’m fine, Jungkook. Don’t worry about me.” 

He huffs, resuming his meal. “Wasn’t worried,” he disarms, reaching over the table to snatch a mozzarella stick. 

You cover up your disgusted expression by wiping your chin with a soft blue napkin. Jungkook is really out here inhaling the whole table and being a bit of a jerk. 

“Well,” Taehyung claps his hands together, regarding all of you with a closed-lipped smile stretched so wide you’re worried he’ll break. “This is nice. I can’t imagine a time where I’d be reunited with you three. It’s weird. But a good weird.” 

“Ditto,” Jimin echoes, lifting his glass to clink with Taehyung’s. Throwing an arm over your shoulder he remarks, “could’ve never imagined my ‘ol best friend would’ve wanted to pursue fashion.” 

“What?” you glower, pinching his thigh, “I love fashion! I spent months planning my Clueless Halloween costume and our summers cosplaying!” 

“Right, Cher,” teased Jimin, “that yellow plaid suit that made you look like a bottle of mustard?” 

“You little–” 

Taehyung begins to laugh when you start to tickle Jimin in the sweet spots, causing Jimin to curl his leg around your ankle and pull you onto his lap for a hair pull. It’s all in fun and nothing hurts, but you’re so caught up in it you’re sure people are worried about your well-being. Even Jungkook is laughing, egging Jimin on while Taehyung weakly attempts to pull you away. 

If you could rewrite the last ten years of your life, this moment would define the remake. 

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

“Are you sure the actual purpose is because you don’t feel like working in the office?” 

“Jungkook,” you groan, tired of his infinite amount of negativity. “This was our senior trip! Of course I want to get a couple shots in before my big presentation.” 

“You’re risking my baby’s life,” Jungkook cradles the digital camera closer to his chest, swaddling it between its felt case. Ever since you purchased the camera, Jungkook has been unable to let it go. This adoption is both equal parts cute and strange, and you’re a little too scared to ask for it back. 

“I promise, no big rides,” you roll your eyes, “your baby will be fine.” 

The local amusement park is a fan-favorite amongst the city-goers, a reprieve from the hustle and a chance for you to spend your copious amounts of money on overpriced sugar and popcorn. The last time you went here was two weeks ago—in your mind. In Jungkook’s mind it was over ten years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember the time spent roaming the artificial floor and the infinite amount of bubbles that seem to eject from the air to add to the whimsical charm. 

Jungkook isn’t even paying attention, citing it as an artist block because he’s going through sensory overload with the amount of stimuli in the crowd. Screaming teenagers wailing under him from a nearby rollercoaster, the smell of sticky caramel apples pumping through the diffuser stands, and the amount of gaudy color that decorates every single logo of the park. 

He plops himself down on a nearby bench while you wait in line to get some food. It’s early in the morning and a weekday, so you figure this is the best time to get some photographs in without any passerbys. You figure Jungkook will get the hang of it once he has some food in his stomach. 

“A funnel cake?” Jungkook is bewildered when you return with the confection in hand, “it’s ten A.M.” 

You raise a brow, knowing how much Jungkook loves sweet foods. The funnel cake especially, he ate at least three when you went to your senior trip, one for every meal. But you’re an adult, or at least posing as one, and you shrug loftily, plucking a hot piece of fried dough from your plate. “Alright then,” you reply, “I’ll just eat the whole thing.” 

Once the cake touches your tongue, you can’t help but make an exaggerated moan in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook squirming like an earthworm next to you, either from the scrumptious smell of funnel cake or the way you’re so enthusiastically eating it. 

“W-wait,” Jungkook’s stomach growls at the perfect moment, “I want some. But I don’t want to get the camera dirty, pass me a napkin.” 

“I can just feed it to you!” you quip innocently, immediately ripping off a piece and shoving it between Jungkook’s pink lips. You feel a little slick in the finger, saliva briefly coating your digits before you pull away. You swallow, feeling a familiar tingle in your tummy and a sickening heat low in your belly. 

You fight back a sigh, wondering if your libido also did a massive growth spurt in your twenty-seven years of age. 

Jungkook is placated at the touch of food, and you take turns feeding yourself and feeding him while more customers trickle in the park. Confectioners sugar dusts Jungkook’s long-sleeved tee, the white color staining the dark fabric. You reach to pat his chest, ignoring the toneness that still remains from high school. 

“Alright, let’s ride,” you declare, pulling Jungkook up once you’re done eating. 

“Do we have to?” 

“What happened to the adrenaline junkie I once knew?” 

“He realized being an adrenaline junkie doesn’t make money and he should stay on the ground.” 

“Alright, Negative Nancy,” your reply has no bite to it, and suddenly you wished you invited Jimin or Seokjin before Jungkook. Jungkook may have the talent, but he certainly doesn’t have the attitude. You don’t even get why he’s still defensive, after all you thought he apologized in the beginning. It’s not like you’re the problem. 

“Gimmie your hand,” your thoughts cut out when Jungkook offers his large hand in front of yours, palm up. 

“Why?”

“C’mon,” he whines, settling for snatching your hand instead. His palms feel larger, rougher as they enclose your smaller hand. “Now hurry up and walk in front of me. I’m gonna take a picture.” 

You already have a feeling as to what this picture is going to look like, so you scrunch your nose. “That is so cheesy.” 

“It’s for the nostalgia factor, now hurry up and pretend we’re on a date.” 

You roll your eyes but relent, jogging a few steps ahead so you can get into character. This pose used to be a popular one, where the sweet boyfriend would be dragged around by the girlfriend’s hand, tugging him to wherever she wanted to go. It’s super cliche but if Jungkook figures it’ll fit your theme, you’ll do it. Eventually you forget that you’re holding his hand, and point ahead to some rides you want to try out. 

“Oh, Jungkook! Remember that one?” you point to a teacup ride, with guests spinning vigorously through their own seat. “Jimin got so sick he fell asleep in the car for an hour!” 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, so you turn around and face him. Click. Jungkook smirks at his little trick, which makes you rip your hand from his and walk further. 

“Hey, hey,” he chuckles, the first smile of the day. Food really does make him peaceful. “The shot looks good, you look good.” 

“Could’ve just asked me to turn around and pose,” you huff. 

“Then it would ruin the fun,” he replies, “now c’mon, let’s ride the teacups. For old time’s sake.” 

Ten minutes later and the both of you are soon regretting that decision. You’re once again slumped on the bench, this time unable to keep your head up so you rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder while he leans on your head. 

“Haven’t rode that since I was a teenager,” Jungkook moans, holding his stomach. “Remind me not to eat so fast before getting on that kind of ride.” 

You mirror his expression, feeling green. “Is this what late-adult life feels like?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook replies, unbeknownst of how shocked you are at how weak your body has become. “You wake up with back pain, pre-arthritis from all the typing you’ve done over the last decade, and a lot of stress. Definitely not the fantasy you’d imagine from your 20s.” 

“You think you’d be less stressed if you kept your lacrosse scholarship?” 

“Nah, I think I saved myself,” Jungkook shakes his head, “before I could be any more awful than I already was.” 

You refuse that notion, sending him a bitter smile. “Well, look at me. I became awful right after high school.” 

“I didn’t mean you—”

“I know,” you hold up a hand to stop him. The two of you follow a red path up the hill, leading to a simple cable car ride. It’s a slow travel ride, made to get from one side of the park to the other with a beautiful view over the lake. “But you see those tabloid articles. They must be true.” 

“I—I didn’t think they were all true,” Jungkook’s lying through his teeth to make you feel better, but you don’t care. “Why do you sound unsure?” 

You shrug, “Probably wasn’t sober for most of my bad decisions,” considering your friendship with Seokjin and his boisterous drinking attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised, “If they weren’t true, I believe Jimin and I would’ve stayed friends. I can’t imagine why I left my home like that. But I guess it doesn’t matter too much because I came back. And I mean, we’re here together doing work,” you gesture between the small space between each other, “I think that counts for something.”  

The two of you walk in silence for a bit, contemplating. The line to the cable car isn’t long but it’s slow, considering the cable only moves a couple meters a second. The take-off area is a risen slab of concrete, and the cars are continuously moving so you have to hop on one car as soon as another guest exits. 

There’s a little bit of space between it, a centimeter gap that could be nerve wracking if there’s no staff around. You think nothing of it as you fiddle on your phone, waiting for the staff member to let you and Jungkook in on the next car. 

Jungkook enters first, taking great care to cradle the camera in one hand so it doesn’t sway against the car. The car swings a little as well, and Jungkook holds out a hand for you to grab. 

Instead you focus on how the once bright glassy pink is sun-ravished, faded and rusting on the metal door flaps. The color is almost pearlescent, vastly different than the vivid color you saw two weeks ago. You almost want to reach out and touch it, wondering where that quality went. 

“Bun, be careful!” 

The tip of your heel nicks on the stepping stone, slipping like butter as you topple forward. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hauling you into the car just as the metal door locks into place. The hard plastic of the camera digs into your chest uncomfortably as you plop on top of Jungkook, between his legs as half his thighs rest against the uncomfortable seat. 

“Were you not watching where you were going?” Jungkook huffs, blowing his bangs over his forehead. 

Instead of an artful answer you blurt, “You, you called me Bun.” 

His eyes widen at your response, and his grip loosens around your body. His eyes dart anywhere but your face, his cheeks ruddied and stained coral as he moves to remove you from his body. “It was a slip of the tongue,” he coughs, turning on his camera and getting shots of the lake. 

You huff in response, sticking to your side of the carriage. “I missed it,” you murmur to the wind, although you make yourself loud enough for him to hear. 

You try to bury your sour expression in your sleeves, just to hide how absolutely childish you feel. You don’t even care that Jungkook is trying to take pictures of you looking out the view, only trying to eradicate the feelings that are still down deep in your blood. Even the twenty-seven year old Jungkook is charming, albeit in a completely different way. 

The grown, mature Jungkook toots to his own horn. He isn’t concerned about a team or an image, and gave it all up to pursue an art he loves. The lacrosse jerseys exchanged for bulky long sleeves, the sport for a camera, and a mask for his true image. 

“Let’s go,” Jungkook takes your hand again when the ride stops, not letting go until you’re on steady ground. You figure he must think you walk like a toddler barely on her first mile. 

Would Jungkook like you even as an adult? With all this money, this power and this confidence you envisioned as a seventeen-year-old, it still doesn’t feel enough for him. In fact, you feel like a sore thumb sticking out, decorated in silly rumors and expensive clothes that separate you far from your roots. 

“Hey,” Jungkook touches your arm, pointing to a basketball carnival game, “remember this one?” 

“Yeah,” forcing a smile, you follow him to the small crowd that starts to form around the basketball game. The baskets are a short distance from the player, but so high up that it’s hard to tell the shape of the hoop. “I tried to tell you that it was completely rigged. From an angle you can see it’s still oval-shaped.” 

“And I told you it didn’t matter if the hoop was an octagon, I’d get you that prize,” he jerks a thumb to the prize booth, where a blue Piplup plush sits proudly with all the other starter Pokemon. “And I did.” 

“It’s still in my room,” you reply proudly, even though Jungkook is acting almost immaturely smug. “I, I mean it’s still in my room in my parent’s house. It’s probably lonely because my parents have been on a cruise for almost two weeks.” 

He raises a brow, eyes drifting to the booth. “Should I win another one to keep your bed in the city warm?” 

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

“You know what I mean,” and Jungkook’s rolling up his sleeves, handing you the camera. 

“Jungkook,” you whine when he pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket, as if he prepared for this moment, “Jungkook c’mon—I don’t need any stuffed animals. Ugh.” 

You swear that the majority of your day is spent watching Jungkook blow cash on a low-quality stuffed animal with packaging pellets for the inside. Turns out carnival technology has also enhanced over the years, and it takes both your whining and the clerk’s whining to stop Jungkook from blowing his entire wallet to get one basket in. Eventually the staff relents and lets Jungkook take a Piplup keychain instead, glumly handing it over to you. 

“I like this better,” you chirp, clipping the ring onto your car keys, “now I can bring Piplup everywhere.” 

A small, barely there smile appears on Jungkook’s face. 

The rest of the day melts away like that, and before you know it the sun is slipping into the horizon and you’re being dropped off at your apartment. Jungkook even insists to walk you to your door, because your prizes are heavy. (Yes, he went back for the oversized Piplup.) 

It’s all too familiar, the way the walk upstairs is achingly slow, as if the moment is stretching itself down the hallway. How Jungkook looks so prideful holding the fruits of his labor, following you with a tug of your hand because the prize is too big for Jungkook to see straight. 

At the same time it’s different. The way you wobble around the hallway because you’re a little tipsy from wine flights is noticeable, even cute. How easy it is to not feel nervous when you clutch at his hand. How you two look like a seasoned couple, coming home from an all-day date. 

It ends at the front door, and you crack it open so you can slip your prizes through the crack. 

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you hold up the SD card that held all the precious memories of this week. 

This is where you part ways. You’ll spend the rest of the night editing your presentation, while Jungkook promised to go to a bar with his friends. A little part of you hoped you’d be invited, but you knew that would be impractical considering you have work in the morning. 

“Break a leg,” he says, leaning on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets, “you’ll do great. You’ve always been meant to do great things.” 

The investment he lays on you is insurmountable, and you feel yourself flush with simultaneous excitement and anxiety. Unknowing how to calm your nerves, you give him a small “thank you” and put your hand on the knob to slip away. 

“Wait—” 

You blink, a deer in the headlights as Jungkook swoops down and kisses you. 

You’ve received kisses—kisses reserved for a twenty-seven year old, before. Seokjin is an eager lover, and you felt it that fateful morning and even during your photoshoot when he tried to be sneaky and pull you away. Fleeting bites, kisses to the neck that are wet and hot.

Jungkook’s kiss does not feel like that. It feels like home. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, wrapping yourself in an old afghan and a hot cup of tea. The feeling of hot laundry, fresh front the dryer and smelling of floral softener. It tastes like ten years lost in a void, returning to your senses and lighting you up.

He holds you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. Large hands cup your face, like a precious thing he never wants to let go. Your hands can do nothing but grapple after his, nails digging into his skin. 

“Good night, Jungkook,” you send him a lovestruck smile, a puppy love face. 

“Good bye, Bun,” he replies simply, jogging down the hallway. 

Being twenty-seven starts to feel a little more like heaven. 

Jennie used to annoy you in high school, but now she just down right scares you. 

Her presentation is one straight out of a thriller, with red shadow lights and neon green splattered in the dark room. Her models are intense, her designs are beautiful but overwhelmingly chaotic, and the whole affair is rather grotesque. The headline Fashion Suicide glares at you in a morbid scarlet font. 

Hoseok sends her a tight-lipped smile, and presses a button on his desk. “I need my antacids, Krystal,” Hoseok deadpans. 

Nothing betrays Jennie’s wicked expression, in fact her smirk widens at Hoseok’s fear. 

You on the other hand, are cool as a cucumber when you walk up to the front of the conference room. In fact, you barely have to say anything as the presentation presents itself. Jungkook took the liberty of making a video compilation for you, one that they could use in YouTube and Instagram promotions. 

“This, is preserving our youth,” you declare proudly, letting the video play. The music that accompanies it is very coming-of-age, like a yearbook slideshow of all the pictures you took. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin hold their arms around each other in matching attire, looking like friends for life. There’s even some videos of you and Jungkook at the park, playfully arguing at each other. “I’m tired of seeing people who could care less about my life, who I can’t relate to.” 

“This issue is for the unsung heroes—my best friend’s older sibling, the captain of the football team, and the black sheep with a dream.” 

The video cuts to Jungkook, looking ultra cool at the camera while he’s dictating Seokjin’s moves. It was taken on your phone, and you’re zooming in on Jungkook’s serious face before it breaks into a laugh, eyes crinkling and bunny teeth showing at whatever stupid thing Seokjin said. 

And finally, the video fades into a mock cover. The five of you are beaming at the camera, cheek-to-cheek as you hold up the placard: Ego: Class of Youth. 

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

You ignore Jennie’s icy stare as you leave the room to negotiate with the creative teams on a set schedule. However, it seems that you can’t get a bit of rest when Jennie waits for you in your office.

“Jennie, get off of my desk,” you frown, watching a coffin-tipped nail flicking against a photograph of you holding hands with Jungkook in the amusement park. It hangs on a corkboard, standing up with all the other ideas that you and Jungkook have spent the last week meticulously planning.The black enamel scratches at your smiling face. You are not having this, not after all your hard work and all the meetings that have just been planned. 

Her feet dangle in the air, kicking back and forth as she sings your name. “You’re still such a child,” she sighs dramatically. “In fact, I think your cute little-wittle idea would suit something more like Highlights or Disney Monthly.”

“You’re just upset I did better than you,” you cross your arms.

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

“You’re right,” Jennie turns a 180 and gives you a bright, candy-coated smile. “Your idea is so good, it doesn’t suit Ego. In fact, I’m sure the editors at Mono will pay a pretty penny.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ugh, you are such a fake.” Jennie giggles, “now, did you send this idea to Namjoon yet? Their publishing date is two weeks before ours, so I’m sure they’re getting to work on this whole Throwback Thursday spread.” 

You can’t believe the words coming from Jennie’s mouth. Before all of this, just how awful of a person were you? How could you sabotage your company on the regular, just to get paid a little extra dough for a rival company? It makes you think about what could’ve possibly changed. Had leaving your friends without a care in the world made you into this lost adult, grappling at the seams for attention? In college, did Jennie coerce you into being manipulative and backstabbing, and because without Jimin and needing confidence in a friend, you reluctantly agreed?

The coffee from this morning starts to back up in your throat, but you immediately tamp it down. No, you can’t be pushed around like this. You can’t keep pushing people around. You don’t want a life like this, and if you ever return to your old life, you’ll damn make sure you’ll create a future without Jennie in the picture. 

“I’m not going to send anything to Mono, and I’ve already fessed up to Hoseok,” you lift your nose in the air, voice impeccably clear for someone who’s absolutely bluffing. But Jennie’s face hits the ground, immediately buying your lie. You suppose you did become a good actress after ten years. Maybe Seokjin taught you a few pointers. “So if I were you, I’d swallow your tongue before words get around. I worked it out but don’t be surprised if a pink slip comes your way.” 

Turns out that no matter what, high school never ends. There will always be backstabbers and freaks and geeks. A mean girl that you subconsciously try so hard to appease, a grade that defines your life, and drama up to the neck. 

“He doesn’t like you, y’know,” Jennie whispers, but the words are loud and clear and you know exactly who she’s talking about. “Never had, and never will.” 

“You’re wrong,” you hold your hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, “he likes me.” 

So you leave the office, determined to prove yourself. That kiss last night was nothing short of magical, and it took a lot of strength for you to not drive up to Jungkook’s apartment in the morning in the hopes for another one. You pick up a pizza near his place, filling it up with your favorite toppings on one half and his favorites on his. A bottle of peach champagne is nestled between your arms. In the bathroom while waiting for your pizza, you’ve wriggled out of your tight suit and into a blue hoodie and bicycle shorts. Tonight, you’re celebrating. 

You’re vibrating as you’re knocking eagerly on his front door, excited to tell him the news. You hear a rustle from the couch, and some blankets shifting about. He must’ve passed out after going to the bar, how cute. 

But when the door opens, the vision in front of you is far from cute.

A woman, with cat eyes and a slim figure, tilts her head at you. She’s dressed in a large white shirt, transparent enough to show her lacy black bra and panties. Bruises decorate her neck and thighs, like red and purple gems. Her long black hair swishes, slightly frizzy at the bottom. 

“Can I help you?” her voice is sultry and velvety. “Are you looking for JK?” 

It’s obvious as to what transpired. Jungkook dipped after kissing you and fucked another woman. A woman who’s the complete opposite of you. Someone flirty and sexy and willing to give Jungkook what he wants. You don’t know who you should be mad at. 

“Who’s at the door?” Jungkook calls from the inside, and you nearly drop your bottle at the sound of the rasp. They must’ve had a fuckfest if they’re just waking up now.

Your cheeks are burning. Your heart is aching. And the vile that bubbled up from Jennie’s tirade is now resurfacing. From the way your eyes are watering, you must look like a crybaby. 

“Say, JK,” the woman closes the frame tighter around her small head, preventing you from seeing inside and for Jungkook to peer, “do you have any pathetic ex-girlfriends?” 

“No,” comes the muffled reply, “come back to bed, it’s getting cold without you,” the pizza starts to burn uncomfortably against your grip, “why the random question?” 

“Dunno, seems like you’ve had at least one.” 

At that moment, your savior appears in grey jeans and a beige hoodie. Jimin walks up to the floor, clutching a bag of groceries. It’s not hard to put two and two together as he spots you looking incredibly small in front of the strange woman, trying so hard not to break down. 

Your tears finally fall when Jimin reaches you. “Wrong room,” you mutter under your breath, quickly following your old best friend when he shoves you in his apartment. 

No words need to be explained when Jimin leaves the groceries on the coffee table and he’s pulling you onto his lap. You clutch him like a koala, rubbing mascara and blush all over his clothes as you sob. He pats your back and soothes your hiccups by offering you a glass of water. The stages of your meltdowns are pretty cut and dry, even after ten years. He still encourages you to finish the whole glass. He makes sure you have something to eat. He cuts your pizza into little bite sized pieces and feeds you. He doesn’t pressure you to talk until you’re ready, although he has a hunch as to what’s going on. 

And when you talk, he doesn’t expect a firm, “Take me home,” from you. 

“O-okay,” Jimin agrees immediately, pulling you into a sitting position. “Uptown, right? We can call an Uber or something and order from a restaurant.” 

“No,” you reply firmly, “Home-home. I want to go back to my parent’s house.” 

“That’s fine too,” he squeezes your shoulder, accepting the fob you hold out to him, “it’ll take about an hour, but I think the drive will be nice.” 

So you two sneak off into the sunset, clutching twin slices of pizza as you roll away into your Tesla. Jimin is right, ten minutes into the drive and you’re soothed by his smooth driving and the scent of fried cheese and dough. Your friend has been calm all this time, so you figure this is the right time for him to pop off. Again, this is also part of your breakdown routine. 

“Say, does this thing do calls?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the settings on your steering wheel, “Tesla, call Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Jimin,” you say weakly, although the little malicious side of you wants to goad him on. You don’t bother to fight the best friend territorialism, you just watch as his hands clutch at the steering wheel as the speakers ring. 

Jungkook picks up on the second ring, “Hey!” he says brightly, and it makes your chest pang to know how oblivious he is, “how did the presentation go?” 

“Fuck you, Jungkook!” you cover your free hand on your ear at Jimin’s shrill yell, louder than the speakers that carry Jungkook’s voice. “Fuck you for breaking my best friend’s heart twice!” 

The silence is deafening. It’s scary, like you could slash a butter knife right through the tension. 

Jimin continues, “I can understand high school because you were a real doofus, but this! You fucking lead my best friend on, only to fuck another girl right under her nose! She came all the way to your apartment from a long-ass day at work to celebrate and you ruin that day! I thought you’ve grown for the better but turns out nothing has changed since prom night. You’re still the stupid, confused little boy that doesn’t want to admit how they really feel,” you gasp at the blow, watching Jimin’s gritted teeth as he zooms down the freeway on a mission. “Good fucking riddance, Jeon!” 

Jimin punches the “hang up” button. A couple seconds of heavy breathing, and he turns to you with a gentle smile. 

“So, you want to listen to Taylor Swift’s new album?” 

Your room is lost in time. The Hunger Games novels are stacked on your shelf, looking old and worn. A Glee poster hangs over your four-poster bed, the yellow and red faded and the corners hanging by a thread from the old tape. The sheets are a pale pink, ruffly and definitely not in style anymore. When you sit on it, it creaks uncomfortably. 

You hug yourself, tucking your knees in as Jimin marvels at the room with an equal amount of awe. 

“If you could, would you go back to high school?” Jimin asks, sitting at the edge of your bed. 

With a lazy shrug, you smile at your collection of polaroids that are hanging above your vanity. You’re still hurt, but the pain is no longer rolling in waves. “Maybe,” you reply, “probably would’ve taken you to Europe with me.” 

He chuckles, “Is that the only thing you would change?” 

“If I knew what I knew now?” you tilt your head, “I don’t know.” 

Jimin gets off your bed, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen and see if we can make something for dinner, yeah? Since your parents are on vacation and your fridge is probably empty, don’t  judge me if there’s only Totino’s pizza rolls and nuggets in the freezer.” 

When Jimin leaves your room, you quietly close the door and lock it. You lean against the cracked wooden door, falling onto the carpet and letting the tears fall. Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? Evading pain and working too hard and trying everyday to stay afloat? Is adult life always going to be this difficult?  

These past two weeks have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Major highs and major lows, and after today you thought you reached the end of the ride. However, it’s looking like the ride has no destination in mind, rolling in waves and finding a new hill or loop to catch you off-guard. 

“Are you kidding—how did you know we were here?” Another corkscrew. 

“You’re a turtle on the road, Jimin. Now move out of the way.” 

Jungkook’s voice startles you, and you tense when you see the gold door knob jiggle. Of course as strong as Jimin is, he’s no match for Jungkook. You hear Jimin grumble to curse Jungkook out, and the sound of him stomping down the stairs. 

“Hey, open up. Please,” Jungkook’s voice is weak and strained, and you only hug yourself tighter as the knocks continue. “Or, don’t. It seems like you can listen to me perfectly from here. I can hear your breathing.” 

You don’t say a peep, preferring to let everything fizzle out. Hopefully Jungkook will give up, say a pathetic sorry and be on his merry way. You don’t know why he’s followed you all the way over here, why would he bother coming when the damage is already done. 

There’s a slide of fabric across wood, and you can feel the door shake against your back as Jungkook leans on his side out in the hallway. 

“Back in high school, Jennie proposed that I date you to get back at you for stealing Jennie’s sewing sample and getting the higher grade,” you close your eyes, letting the story unravel. “She wanted to build you up before breaking you down, and back then I was vulnerable and thrived on attention, so I thought nothing of it.” 

You hear a breathy exhale from his side, as if it pains him to continue, “But obviously, it wasn’t true and I only realized it until I was way too deep. I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you. We were so wrapped up in this relationship I even convinced myself it was real, until Jennie said she’d crush you at prom night.

“I should’ve tried harder to convince us not to go. I should’ve told Jennie to fuck off. I should’ve come clean. I should’ve done something,” his fist bangs against your door, the vibrations of the impact thrumming in your back, “seeing you so beautiful in that dress all heartbroken because I didn’t act sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Hearing him pour his heart out is like watching your memories in his shoes. The pieces find homes and paint a picture left unfinished. 

“And then when you showed up at my doorstep, I was so angry. I knew you felt it. But I wasn’t upset at you, I was upset at myself. I felt so fucking guilty. I hated how easy it was for you to let me back into your life. I hated how easy it was to fall for you all over again. I knew how much I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it to me and I was too selfish to refuse. I had so much fun, the most fun I’ve had in awhile. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend for it to I just, I couldn’t help myself. And then I was so scared that I turned away and made the second biggest regret to date.

“But it proves that we’re not meant to be together. I don’t deserve you,” the last part is hushed, a nail in the coffin, “we can’t turn back the time, but if I could I would change it all. I would be by your side and make your world even better than it is right now. I’m sorry it’s too late.” 

You clutch your mouth, suppressing the cries that muffle through the door. You hear Jungkook get up from your old carpet, turn the other way and head downstairs. 

Your first love just closed the chapter for you. His words show how much he cared for you, but didn’t know how to express it. How immature he was, how he realized everything too late. And now, he wants to set you free. Even if it is a good thing, it still tears you to shreds. 

Moving to your vanity, you pull out the chair and lean your head on the table, eyes poking through your hair. You look awful. The skin under your waterline is puffy and your eyes are red and bloodshot. Your forearms feel greasy, and you lift them up to reveal glitter painting the entirety of your skin. Your eyes dart to the open glitter, the package that Jimin gifted to you that fateful prom night. The compact is broken in half and left on the table, probably a product of your younger cousins fiddling through your old room. 

Ignoring the sticky feeling, you let yourself continue to cry. You feel like you’re stuck in the bathroom of the prom venue, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out and go. 

But you want nothing more than to go back to that moment. As amazing as your twenty-seven year old life is, you’re not ready for it. You don’t want a life without Jungkook, or a life having to constantly catch up and mend your relationship with Jimin. You don’t want to be the backstabbing bitch that tips off other magazines, or the two-faced woman who messes around with others for the sake of pleasure.

You long to go back. You long to live and grow. To be seventeen and have time to grow in-between. 

When you lift your head from your vanity, you’re ten years younger.

You scream. 

Your parents dash to your room with a kitchen knife and a confused face. With a wary smile and a teary gaze you say that it’s only a pimple. Your mother giggles and drops the knife, hugging you and helping you conceal the invisible mark. The hug is so warm and so missed that you nearly sigh in content. You’ve missed them. 

It’s a little strange to think well beyond your years, your brain still reeling from the trip you’ve just had. Your hands smooth over your body, the previous curves and maturity hidden away in your skin. That’s okay, you don’t mind waiting anymore. There’s much more important things at hand. 

If Jungkook isn’t going to realize his mistakes until it’s too late, you have to speed up the process. 

Stealing your parent’s keys and hopping in your Accord, you drive off to Jungkook’s. Hair and makeup not done, and still in your plain shirt and jeans. An hour from now, Jungkook will text you saying his car is down and he’ll meet you at the venue. 

It’s still rush hour, so he doesn’t notice when you park a few houses down. He’s sitting on his front porch, looking out the road. There’s really nothing in front of him, he’s just staring aimlessly, probably nervous about what’s about to go down tonight. You suppress a sigh, engraving the vision to memory. He looks great in his fitted black suit and tie, a little silver pocket square on the breast to match your dress. 

He gets up quickly when he sees you, as if caught in the act. Staring at your plain clothes he asks, “Bun, why aren’t you dressed? Prom’s soon—”

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

You see it in his eyes. Vulnerability. No longer do you feel insecure, the future told you that Jungkook genuinely did care for you back then. Or in this case, right now. His usual cheery expression crumples at your feet, and his hands fall at his sides. It feels a little unfair, knowing that you have experience under your belt, and Jungkook’s experiencing these feelings for the first time, unprepared. 

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

“I know about Jennie’s plan,” you say instantly, unfazed. You give him a tight-lipped smile when realization hits his face. “So I know this whole relationship is orchestrated. The sewing sample fiasco is wrong, obviously. But I’m not going to get mad at you, I know she played you as much as she played me,” you clasp the straps of your purse, stopping you from fidgeting, “we graduate in a few months anyway. We don’t have to see or talk about this ever again. You should go enjoy your prom night with your other friends.” 

The present-day Jungkook is still young and confused. He’s at a loss, looking like he’s on sensory overload as he absorbs all the information. You see his eyes flicker to where your Accord is parked, your prom dress hanging on one of the arm pulls. You never even pulled it out of the bag. 

“Here,” you pull his corsage from your purse, placing the white rose atop the porch. If you try to put it on him, you fear you may never leave. With a determined huff, you turn around in the direction of your car.

“Where are you going?” he asks, clutching the railing of his porch, “what about prom?” 

“I have other plans,” you shrug over your shoulder, “have a good night.” 

You don’t look back, although you feel Jungkook’s stare burning in your head. You take great care in going into drive and punching in a new destination in your clunky GPS. This time you have to do things one at a time, once you get your Tesla ten years from now, you’re sure this process will be much easier. 

Jimin’s family comes out of the airport, looking impeccable as always. Ten years younger, with puffy cherub cheeks and bright eyes. To your surprise (but also all things considered, it’s Jimin), your best friend comes out in a three-piece suit. It’s burgundy, and suits his dark hair well. He places his luggage into your car, hugs his family good-bye and waits for them to depart in their cab. 

“You are all dressed up, and for what,” you chuckle, driving out of the airport.

“Well, when you sent that voicemail that you’d be waiting for me, I changed in the bathroom,” Jimin quips, already fiddling with your radio to play some poppy overplayed music, “but why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going to be fashionably late to prom. Spill.”

“Hm, let’s talk about it in the morning. I wanna enjoy my prom night,” and you reach over to ruffle Jimin’s soft black strands, “y’know, you’d look really sexy as a blond.” 

He pulls down your mirror, positioning it over his face. Pursing his plush lips, he tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe when I’m older,” he grins at his reflection, “so if we’re not going to prom, let’s go get pizza.” 

So the two of you get pizza. But not before you take your prom pictures. Your parents meet you at the park with their old digital camera, ready for your impromptu photoshoot. Jimin uses an old tarp to cover the car up while you change in the car, shimmying in your sparkly silver tulle dress. Your hair is held up and away from your face, looking clean enough to be presentable as you pose for the camera. The two of you pick yellow dandelions from the grass, matching flowers as last minute dates. Your parents coo and are happy for you, knowing that even if you don’t attend the actual dance, the pictures will last forever and you’ll smile at them for years. 

Eventually you tell Jimin about Jungkook and the whole fiasco (sans the ten year mental time jump.) The reaction is expected, Jimin says he wants to fuck Jungkook up. Surprisingly for him, he doesn’t have to do much to console you. In fact, you sip coolly from your smoothie and say Jungkook will probably let Jimin get a punch in even though Jungkook can bench press his tiny body in half. But you tell him you’re okay, and all you want to do is go home and binge watch. 

Jimin carries the pie in his lap while you pull up your driveway. The smell of toasty cheese and fresh dough fill your car. 

“I want to watch Sky City,” Jimin sing-songs, “Kim Seokjin is God’s gift!” 

You crinkle your nose, “He’s alright.” 

“What! You thought he was so hot like, last week.” 

“Things change.” 

Jimin makes it to your room first, saying he’ll take care of setting things up. He’ll probably steal all the available cushions and make a fort for himself while he puts a picnic blanket on the floor in front of your television. You can imagine him hogging all your stuffed animals, placing it on his side of the carpet while he rifles through your drawers so he can change out of his suit. 

Your parents tell you to take out the trash before you have fun tonight. Careful not to get your dress dirty, you hold it away from your body as you waddle out the front door. You make it two steps into the driveway before the soggy trash bag is whisked from your hands.

“I got it,” Jungkook says quietly, and it takes little to no effort for him to haul the large bag into the waiting trash can. His shoulders are slumped under his white button-up, his suit jacket probably stuffed somewhere in the back of the car. 

“Jungkook,” you reply, dumbfounded, “it’s only eight, prom isn’t even over yet.” 

“I know… but then I realized you weren’t gonna get your money’s worth if you didn’t go. I asked the waitress if she could get me a doggie bag for my date and,” he holds up a stapled bag, presumably the dinner that was supposed to be served, “it’s your favorite.” 

“Thank you,” you give him a small, grateful smile as you accept the bag. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

He bites his lip, stuffing his hands in his dress pockets. “A-and you told me before you left that I should go spend prom night with my friends,” he ruffles his hair, blown out of the pomade and falling into his eyes, “and then I realized that you were right. Jennie and all those people out there aren’t really my friends. They like my rep and they like my attention, but they don’t like me.” 

You shake your head, “Jungkook, you’re very likable. Jennie and her group are just one bad bunch.” 

“But I don’t wanna be liked by my rep. I wanna be liked for the things I love,” he steps a hesitant step towards you, and he relaxes when he sees that you don’t recoil, “I haven’t told anyone this. But I want to drop that sports scholarship. I applied to an art school, and I got in.” 

Suppressing a grin with a bite of your lips, you cheer silently in your head. Things are changing. “I’m so happy for you, Jungkook. Congrats.” 

“And I’m sorry for all the fucked up things I did. Jennie may have manipulated me but I definitely was a big part of it,” Jungkook pulls the words out of the sky, finally having enough time to formulate an apology, “but please don’t doubt for a second that my feelings are fake. I really like you, and I wish we got to know each other under better circumstances.”

“I wish we could’ve,” you echo sadly. “But our futures—” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you.”

You shake your head, frowning at his kicked puppy expression. “I’m considering a fashion school in Europe,” you reach for Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it. Letting him know that everything’s going to be okay. “You and Jimin can visit me during the breaks, Europe has some great spots to photograph.” 

Something in Jungkook’s gaze tells you that it’s not enough for him. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you tighter, but you know that’s not good for the both of you right now. “That’d be nice,” he says vaguely, giving you a pained smile. 

Jungkook rubs his thumb over your hand, relishing in the softness of your skin. “You look really pretty,” he says, looking forlornly over the dress. He can only imagine how ethereal you’d look under the fairy lights that decorated the venue, “I wish we could’ve had one dance.” 

You shrug, “The night’s still young,” you gesture to the space in the driveway, and the lights that overhead the garage. 

The slow Taylor Swift music that plays from his pocket is muffled, but it doesn’t deter either of you as he places his hands on your waist and you wrap his around his neck. You’re wearing your bunny house slippers and Jungkook’s neck is moist from his nervous sweats, but you know that this memory will be engraved in your brain for years to come. 

It feels good to know that from now on, you don’t have to be so concerned about the future now that you’ve had a taste of it. All you want now is to take it one day at a time. At this moment the, the only thing you want to do is focus on how you’re going to hold onto Jungkook for the last time. At least for now, who knows what will happen in the future. 

“I really want to kiss you, Bun,” he leans in, foreheads touching, “but I don’t deserve it.” 

“You’re right,” you tease, “you don’t.” 

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

Yet you figure you’ve made enough headway these past few weeks, and you deserve to be a little selfish. One last kiss, you think to yourself. Your fingers flatten against the pressed material of his collar, meeting in the middle to clutch Jungkook’s slim black tie. Jungkook bites his lip, looking down at you for permission. With the tiniest of nods, you get on your tippy toe toes you lean forward and you can smell the apple cider lingering on his lips—

“Ohmygod—are you broken up or not!” both of you whip your heads up to see Jimin hanging over your open window, looking absolutely bored. His arms dangle over your sill, wearing a frayed high school jumper. “Either tell him to get lost or invite him over to watch television because I’m hungry!” 

You pull away from him fully, squeezing his biceps. “Want pizza?” 

He shakes his head, “I think it’s a trap. Jimin’s waiting for me to come up so he can rip my head off,” he gives a tentative wave to the second floor, but Jimin just scoffs and goes back inside, “but I’ll see you Monday.” 

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

Your heart pinches a little as you watch him drive away. Before, you knew what the end game was between you two. It didn’t end pretty. Now, you’re not so sure. At the very least, it isn’t ending on a sour note. 

Some time later.

“Your majesty,” you give her a practiced smile, taking careful measures not to brush the lady’s shoulders too hard in the fear she’ll whittle away, “emerald is an impeccable color on you.” 

The Queen of England (the McDuckin' Queen of England!) just laughs at you and waves you off. You can’t believe you’re photographing a real queen. This is like the childhood equivalent of meeting Malibu Barbie. You thank every single choice and mistake you’ve made in your entire life that has brought you up to this impeccable moment. She’s a vision, you could cry. In fact, you’ll cry later in the comfort of your hotel room. “Do you think the photographer will take long?” she asks, frowning, “I have drinks with my friends in an hour.” 

You smirk, pleased to know she’s still kicking it in her golden years. “Yeah, just so long as my husband doesn’t get distracted. Fifteen minutes, tops.” 

“I’m not distracted,” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from his tripod. He gives up on trying to stabilize the camera, instead preferring to go freehand for this one. He gives you an incredulous look, hands on his hips, “I have two queens in my viewfinder and I only got room for one. Get out of the shot, Bun.” 

With a playful roll of your eyes, you step away from the lady of the hour to let Jungkook do his thing. He’s right in his element, blurting choreographed poses and telling the lighting people to move at his beck and call to get the perfect angle. You stand a distance behind him, letting him take control. 

“I’m so hungry,” your whisper is low enough to blend between the jazz music, but loud enough for Jungkook’s ears to listen in, “please tell me you’re almost done.” 

“Oui, oui.” 

“Wrong language, Kook. Please don’t offend anyone,” and discreetly, you take one step closer in your Tory Burch flats, “did you get any candids of me and the Queen?” 

“Duh, Bun,” you can’t see his face but you know he’s grinning, “Jimin will faint.” 

"Oh, yes! Thank you, I love you," you gush, reaching over to discreetly pinch his butt. 

He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to give you a brief smirk, "Show me how thankful you are tonight." 

So silly, you think. It's amazing how well you work together as two separate entities of a photoshoot yet share a brain cell in the presence of each other. In another world, Jungkook said if given the chance, he'd be by your side and make your world a better place. 

Ten years later, it's exactly that and more. 

[orobaxi]

aftercare.

always brings his lover some water & a small snack, & will carry them to the bath if needed. will check your body for any injuries, & will always apologize, even after you insist that it’s fine.

body part.

he loves your face so, so much. from the way that you look at him when he tells you he loves you, to that soft smile you give him when the two of you finish. it’s perfect in every way imaginable, & he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

cum.

his cum is a bit on the thicker side, with a normal clear-to-white color. it’s neither salty or sweet, however, sometimes it has an odd hint of metal.

dominant/submissive.

zhongli’s a softer dominant that has his rougher moments, however, he’ll be the submissive one on occasion. while he enjoys being in control, he enjoys blindly trusting his partner just as much.

experience.

although he’s met many people who have been sexually interested in him, he rarely had the same feelings for them. he’s had sex before, but it’s been a few years since his last encounter. it’s completely understandable for him to be nervous the first few times he has sex again.

favorite position.

any position where he can see your face. zhongli adores being able to see the pleasure he’s giving you, & he loves being able to simply lean in & kiss you at any given moment. he’s particularly fond of having one of your legs over his shoulder, though. & to be fair, it allows for deeper penetration, so it’s quite understandable as to why he enjoys it so much.

goofy.

he sees sex as a serious act, & doesn’t joke around much. during foreplay, there may be a joke here & there, but beyond that? absolutely not. if you were to joke around though, he wouldn’t mind too much.

hair.

trimmed short, & he tries his best to keep it in a neater shape than what it naturally is. his pubic hair does match the hair on the top of his head perfectly, though… so, it might glow, too.

intimacy.

frequent whispers of “i love you,” accompanied by many slow kisses, gentle touches, & words of praise… or making you beg like a common whore for him to fuck you, only to leave you on the edge over & over again. it depends on his mood, really.

jack off.

while he doesn’t masturbate often – he gets embarrassed simply thinking about it – he always does it to the thought of his lover. he’d be absolutely mortified if you were to catch him in the act, though. i don’t think he’d be able to look you in the eyes for a day or so.

kinks.

begging, breeding, creampies, edging, gentle/slow sex, light bondage, lingerie, overstimulation, praise, & “sir/master.” he’d be quite vanilla before exploring these things with his partner, though.

location.

as long as it’s in a private area, he doesn’t care too much about where you two have sex. on a desk or counter? alright, as long as you’re comfortable. on a couch? okay, but let him know if you’d like to go to the bed. in truth, the bed’s his favorite place. i mean, it’s always going to be comfortable, & it’s a relatively easy clean up compared to a desk… he has a record of shoving all the shit on the desk to the floor before fucking you on it, unfortunately.

motivation.

dirty talk, lingerie, & teasing touches are the main things that get him going. he fucking loves lingerie – simply telling him that you have some on under your clothes is enough to get him hot & bothered. the thought of you sitting on the bed in that, waiting for him to walk in, knowing he’ll pounce on you the moment he sees you… fuck, it’s so sexy to him. for dirty talk & teasing touches, however, you’ll have to know what you’re doing in order to get a rise out of him. lightly stroking his thigh, just a little too close to his dick, or gently touching his sides… whispering how bad you want – no, need – him, telling him that you don’t care what he does to you, you just need him to fuck you however he wants… &, to really seal the deal, throw a “sir” or two in there.

no.

he could never agree to hurting you. while spanking may be iffy, slapping & punching are a hard no. there’s also the whole “consensual non-consent” thing, & it’s really because he’s afraid of you forgetting the safeword – & he doesn’t understand the appeal of it. after all, your partner letting you know they really want to have sex is one of the hottest things they could do… in his opinion, at least.

oral.

he prefers receiving over giving, but it’s only out of fear that he’s not truly pleasing you when he preforms oral on you. he knows it’s a bit silly – after all, why would his lover fake it? wouldn’t they rather guide him to where their sweet spots are? still, he can’t help but feel a bit insecure. of course, that won’t stop him from fulfilling your wishes. zhongli just doesn’t know what it is about you that makes him love oral so much. perhaps its the way you look up at him through your eyelashes, with those beautiful, teary eyes of yours. maybe it’s the way you swallow his cum effortlessly… or, maybe it’s the way your throat tightens when you choke on his dick. 

pace.

agonizingly slow for the first few moments, & then he slowly goes faster & faster. he always tries to stay in control of himself, though; you’re going to have to either catch him in a more dominant mood, or rile him up to the point where he doesn’t care about control anymore. pounding inside of you & gripping you so tightly his fingertips leave multicolored bruises – giving you no time to rest before the next thrust.

quickie.

while he doesn’t particularly like them, he may have one with you once in a blue moon. it really depends on how riled up you’ve got him, & if you’re the one who initiates the quickie. otherwise, he’d much rather wait until the two of you got home.

risk.

while he doesn’t like taking extreme risks, he’s up for a some smaller ones here & there. it usually takes a bit of persuasion on your end, though.

stamina.

surprisingly, he can go for hours on end – the only things that stop him are other responsibilities & his lover getting tired. if he has a rare free day on his calendar, though, he might dedicate most of that day to having sex with you. it depends on how riled up he’s gotten.

toys.

doesn’t own any. why would he use them anyway? half the fun is using them on someone else – or so he thinks, at least. if his partner wants toys, though, he’d consider purchasing one or two.

unfair.

he only teases if he’s provoked. once he starts, though, you’ll soon regret your actions. he won’t be bold enough to tease you under a table at the the third round knockout, for example, but he will be bold enough to utter absolutely filthy things into your ear that leave you a blushing, breathless mess… & this man has the nerve to say: “are you alright, love? you feel a bit warm.” with a worried look on his face, every single damn time.

volume.

when he’s dominant, you can expect deep, soft groans & almost inaudible whispers of praise. “you’re adorable when you say my name like that. keep saying it.” “you take my cock so well, huh? you’re doing so good, my love. you’re doing so good.” 

when he’s submissive, though, you’ll receive moans & whimpers that seem to be a bit higher-pitched than normal. he’s perfectly content with biting a pillow & muffling his noises, but then you wouldn’t get to hear him begging. “ahh– please, i need you so bad, my love. please– fuck–!” “it feels so good, it’s– it’s too much–!”

wild card.

fantasizes about his partner degrading him, although, he’s not sure why. perhaps it’s the whole “disrespecting a god” thing.

xray.

considering that he’s taller than average & has a slimmer build, one would assume that he isn’t too toned underneath those clothes of his. however, you’ll be pleasantly surprised once you discover that his looks truly are deceiving. for his cock, though, he’s average length, & far above average in girth. it’s definitely going to hurt if you aren’t adequately prepared beforehand – even if you don’t, though, the pain will fade into pleasure within a few moments.

yearning.

over the years, he’s become amazing at suppressing his desires. on some days, though, his drive seems to skyrocket – he doesn’t understand why, either. those are the days when, as soon as he’s done with his shift at the wangsheng funeral parlor, he heads straight home & either masturbates or has sex with his lover. usually, though, he’s up for it whenever his partner is – that is, unless they’re trying to have sex when he’s doing something important, of course.

zzz.

this man never seems to truly get tired – in fact, he’ll almost always be the first one to get up & start cleaning up any messes the two of you made. he’ll always lay back down & make himself take a quick nap with you after he’s done cleaning, though.

❥  stole this idea & (most of the) alphabet from @rosens-new-dawn​. 💞

[cooloddball]

This is going to be a super long analysis of jib3 starting with the opening ceremony to the closing ceremony so brace yourselves. 

Please note I believe in the breakup theory so maybe my opinion in this one might be biased so please don’t come for me, lol.

I will put it under the cut to avoid overcrowding your dashes with cockles shenanigans. 

Also, watch out for profanities and mature language.

And so it begins...

Opening ceremony

The camera used to record the opening ceremony is shaky. 

Misha, Jason Manns, and Jarpad seem to be having a lot of fun together and Jensen is just looking at his besties talking to the man he loves and he knows he can’t have that so he just stands there looking at them. Poor guy.

Jarpad asks who took Misha’s riffle? Things are awkward, I honestly don’t know what’s going on.

Misha kisses a plushie while making eye contact with Jensen and Jensen is like “oh, oh, wow” while making eye contact with Misha. LOL. Jack help me. This is a lot!!!

Jensen takes a plushie from Sebastian and Jared takes the one Misha had.

Are you guys flirting about trying to see whether you can keep plushies alive?

Misha throws something at the fans, I think he was throwing treats from earlier or whatever it was and Jensen says “Misha is still throwing” I mean why?

Cockles Panel

Jensen is so extra in this panel.

First of all, when he and Misha come out (no pun intended) a song starts playing and he starts dancing. Jensen is usually so poised while dancing but he is over the top throwing his back and shaking his tush for the mish.  I think he was trying a little too hard. Misha spares his ex-boyfriend’s tush a glance smiles and looks away. LOL. The whole thing was cringey, tbh. It was so unlike Jensen.

When Sebastian touches Jensen’s shoulder and says something to Jensen, he [Jensen]  laughs way too hard. I would say he laughs abnormally-it’s loud and he throws his whole body into it like he’s trying to prove what Sebastian was funny and it probably wasn’t. He laughs so hard he ends up right on Misha’s side. and Misha laughs at that though.

Rich says something about something in the sac that hurts(It’s incoherent) and Jensen says it hurts right here pointing at his heart (I can’t hear what they are saying exactly so if anyone knows please let me know)

I don’t know if Mark P. was going to hug Jensen or not or he was pointing at something behind Jensen, but at that moment, Jensen sees Sebastian going to hug Misha and whips his head away from Mark P’s direction so fast he almost broke his neck.

Sebastian humps Misha (these two are so playful I love them) and Jensen is just there acting awkward 

There’s a comment by Rich about “It’s over, the convention’s over I’m no longer your bitch” I don’t know who this is about.

Now, now, now. This whole time Rich is doing a kissy mouth with his fingers on the monitor behind Jensen and Misha. His hand is right where Misha is standing (you’ll understand once you watch it) so Jensen makes a kissy face back and Misha is blushing? Ummm wtf is going on here?

Jensen also does something strange that he never does during cockles panels he pulls his seat away from Misha.

Misha makes a very weird comment about Sebastian’s libido drying up and they have a weird conversation about libido and Viagra ads. It’s weird.

It gets even more awkward Jensen talks about bringing a total stranger, and a blind date. And it goes downhill from there with them. The it wasn’t you it was me speech. It was special. So heartbreaking. It was clearly not about the show but about their relationship. I always have a difficult time getting through that part. It’s so awkward that the fans are just there wondering what the hell is going on.

They decide to take questions and the fan is all over the place so Misha interjects but Jensen won’t let Misha say what he wants to say so he says, “This is why you make it awkward. You never let people finish what they are saying.” Ouch. Domestic dispute vibes anyone?

The way Jensen is looking up at Misha when he’s answering that question. It’s like he wants to sear his face into his memory before they leave Rome.

Jensen is explaining to a fan how one of the four sound stages they had on set was full of furniture and Misha adds “and soiled mattresses”  I mean what was the reason? Did they soil the mattresses with their [redacted]

A fan mentions something about Dean and Cas so these two adorable dorks smile and share a look. Things are starting to look up. Thank Jack.

The fan says something again (I can’t make out what he’s saying) but it must be something nice because they look at each other with smiles on their faces again.

Jensen playing with the head of his microphone. Is it just me or did the temperature rise a notch higher?

The way they look at each other when the fan says to help him choose the hottest female cast member on the show 

Then something freaky happens they say the exact same thing as twins or bffs do sometimes. LOL.

When they start talking about the hot women with the fans Misha moves his entire body and now instead of looking at the fans, he is seated facing Jensen.  The tension is simmering down.

A point to note is that in all their panels they always sit angled facing each other as opposed to facing the crowd save for this panel and DCCON 2019. But for DCCON I can understand that they weren’t comfortable being meant to be a J/2 panel and a creation event. So you know some people in that crowd are super mean to Mish and others to Jensen, so they had to tread carefully. But I digress back to the chaos.

They ask who wants to have a cockles panel the next year and they both raise their hands. I thought that was sweet

 It’s adorable how Jensen keeps repeating everything Misha is saying.

Misha forgets himself and moves too close to Jensen to listen to the song on the phone. Jensen turns to look at Misha, I don’t know what that look is but Misha backs away laughing.

Jensen’s face journey while listening to that song is gold.

Misha moves closer to listen to the song.  I have to say the way they are standing is not usually how two bros listening to music usually stand. If you know what I mean

 Misha agrees that’s definitely Jensen singing. Of course, he knows because Mr. “Jensen sings to me all the time”

He looks so proud of him.  I’d venture to say he’s happy to hear Jensen sing because he has always been so shy about that fact about himself. He even gives him a standing ovation. That’s so adorable. He loves him. My heart.

Jensen is so cute trying to deny it’s not him singing that song.  Yeah, it’s you, Jensen. Even your ex agrees it’s you and we bet he knows how your voice sounds in all kinds of situations ;)

we get a tingly feeling so we know it’s you. Jensen’s adorable smile when Misha says that. Aww.

The way they are not even looking at each other but they are seated the exact same way.

Allow me to explain to my friend here. Explains how his parents didn’t know whether he was a boy or a girl. Misha with the steel chair, “when did they figure out that you were a boy?”

How many years did they call you holly?

For six to seven years

Is it just me or is this conversation a flashback of teenage twink-lesbian Jensen years?

Fan asks whether Dean will ever forgive Cas. Watch Misha’s body language, he is trying to pacify himself by rubbing the back of his neck and fumbling with his shirt.

When Jensen says “ No!” without a moment’s hesitation, Misha looks distraught? I don’t know maybe I’m reading too much into this but I feel like this hit too close to home being that they were most likely broken up.

Misha however has a different opinion, “I think he has” 

Jensen says, “Wishful thinking” and that elicits a smile from Misha.

A fan asks about Dean giving Cas the trenchcoat back and things get interesting.  Weirdly, that Jensen can’t say the word gay out loud. He literally uses the word “unmanly” in its stead in the guise of censorship? It’s not a bad word Jensen you can say it. However, Misha and the fans say the word so I’m wondering who is censoring Jensen’s use of that word. He eventually says it but super fast.

Jensen says that saying “I always knew you would come back” is not something he would say to another human being, especially a man. Jesus, there’s nothing wrong with saying that to another human being you care about. He’s the one making it gay. He was extra when answering that one.

They spent one and half hours making that scene just to end up not saying anything and it ended up looking gay anyway. Anyway, that’s interesting.

 Jensen angles his body towards Mish and says in a very low soft and sexy voice “I guess I really hoped that you would come back some day” I would venture to say that Jensen at the moment in the panel was actually saying them to Misha. Who knows though?

They talk about it a whole lot for something that bothered him that much. 

Misha being so excited about recreating a scene when a fan told Jarpad he’s amazing and Jarpad said "you are welcome. 

 “I think I understand what she wants. I’m not sure what she’s gonna get.” This is a very good line Misha. I will be using it often.

The way they awkwardly stand too close and whisper to each other. Umm…what is going on here?

Jensen folds over laughing because of something Misha says. They are back. The tension is almost 90% gone now and they are in their element.

The chaos of recording the alarm ringtone for the fan was just great to watch. They kept getting closer and closer and I think they might have shared spit at that point. Gross….LOL

The way Misha is sitting is he you know.

Jensen asking Misha whether he was saying anything or just screaming while they were recording. I think he just wanted to see Misha smile.

Jensen’s joy when a fan mentions that they have Misha’s résumé.

Jensen saying the word shit made my day. I curse a  lot and it made me feel validated somehow.

Misha calls him dickhead in return and Jensen stops functioning and laughs instead . He also gets all hot and bothered trying to fumble with the lapel of his shirt.  He does this a lot when he is turned on. He has a humiliation kink I think.

They start talking over each other about Misha’s special skills. Looks like Jensen might have known beforehand because he went straight for that. Or maybe he didn’t know but he knew since Misha is a mad genius there must be some amazing things in there. Either way, it was a good moment.

OMG Jensen is so excited and the way he motions to Misha to bring that résumé to him, LOL. This man was thirsty AF.

He even goes down from the stage to meet Misha and invades his personal space trying to reach the résumé. I think this is the moment the tension between them dissipated completely and they were back to some form of normalcy.

Misha holding Jensen’s shoulder trying to get his résumé back. Unsucessfully, I should add.

They read something funny and they fold over laughing and spin around like overjoyed seals. It is far removed from the mollusk family but at least it’s still a sea creature (I don’t know what I’m saying please don’t mind me)

Jensen is still on his knees laughing and can’t get up. As I said, he is being too extra in this panel.

 Misha is trying to talk but they both can’t stop laughing. I think Jensen laughed so hard he got an extra set of abs that day.

Jensen is still laughing and you know what he is laughing at? Misha’s special skills being acting on camera. I mean it’s funny but man, prayforjensen.

 They are still laughing. Jack, help them.

The way Jensen looks at Misha with pure adoration here makes me so happy and reminds me of the fictional characters they played being all heart eyes for each other.

 Misha laughed so hard he cried.

Jensen trying to read the next ‘special skill’ Misha has but he can’t even talk because of how funny he thinks it is. He’s trying so hard not to laugh but he can’t help himself.

Jensen agreeing and also asking the audience to agree that Misha has a knack for certain accents. Accent kink anyone?

 Jensen is so excited when Misha starts Tibetan throating singing and does the unicorn laugh facing away from the crowd. Bet he has experienced Misha’s Tibetan throat singing skills on a personal when they are (loud overhead helicopter noises followed by thunder rumbling)

Jensen falling to the ground after feigning a heart attack once he saw that Misha is a certified EMT. I mentioned before that I honestly, 100% think he wanted mouth to mouth. There’s no other explanation. He could’ve feigned a nose bleed or just about any other illness but he chose to fall on a dirty floor and lay down so Misha could either give him the breath of life or straddle him. Luckily for him his dream came true 7 years later at Jib9 when straddle gate happened. But I digress

Too bad Misha was still mad at him and heartbroken so he kicked him instead.

Jensen knowing that Misha kayaks seems to be part of his personal knowledge. Maybe they did it together sometimes.

Horseback riding. Hmm is it just me or do they seem awkward here?

 Misha is so close to Jensen’s armpits. Must be missing his man’s musk and being held in those muscular arms again. Poor baby.

Misha can’t talk because of how funny he finds bicycle touring. I mean…I don’t see what’s funny but I guess he knows why it’s funny.

Misha laughing and raises his legs because Jensen is elaborating on the bicycle touring. Maybe it’s an inside joke or maybe it’s no longer funny to me because I’ve watched this panel like 5 times.

 I think Jensen’s goal was to see Misha laugh and be happy because he turned to look at Misha who was still laughing hard and the joy on Jensen’s face. Aww.

Misha gravitating towards his man again. He must smell really nice Misha. And those arms. Bet he used to lift you against the wall and (this fucking thunder won’t stop rambling. Are chuck and Amara fighting again?)

Jensen marketing his man’s carpentry skills but then makes sure to make it ‘no homo’ by saying he would never sit on anything Misha has built. Sure Jan. Then he circles back and says that he knows that he can build things.

Misha walks away from him and he looks up to make sure where he is going. Maybe he was afraid Misha was walking out on him. (PTSD from their breakup?)

They mention acting on camera again.

And laugh 

Jensen keeps talking about the acting on camera and watches to see if Misha is still laughing  He still is and Jensen is happy that his baby is happy. He looks at him again and he is still happy that Misha is still happy. Then once the laughter dies down he starts talking about bicycle touring  and checks again to see if Misha is laughing which he is so Jensen throws his head back  unicorn laughing and then looks at Misha again to see that he’s still laughing. Then they look at each other and say something maybe it’s about that was a good laugh. Jensen is wiping tears from his eyes because of how hard he laughed  Misha does the same. That entire thing was insane and they seemed to love it.

 Jensen starts saying that being this happy or goofing around is how they are on set sometimes and have to take a 5-10 minute break and Misha doesn’t seem too happy at the mention of the set. 

Jensen knowing that you can buy résumés on eBay. Did he buy Misha’s and then plant someone in the audience to bring it up or? Okay, yeah I know I’m reaching here but it’s probable.

 I guess my theory wasn’t farfetched because Jensen says that he’s pretty sure that Jarpad put it on eBay the previous night so maybe he is the one who did all that to win Misha back?

Jensen knows the appellation clogging is a stretch. Seems like Misha has told him about it before.

Jensen looking at his watch to see if they have time for  Misha to be telling a story about his high school sweetheart and now wife. I bet he wishes Misha could tell their love story so openly. He can’t stop looking at Misha.

The way Jensen is looking at Misha here. WTF man? He’s literally confused about what the question is.

The personal space question. This whole thing was just so many things. It was awkward, cringey, thirsty, funny.

when the fan asks whether there’s a funny fact between Jensen and Misha. I almost fainted. What? And Jensen repeats it. The two men are so stoic. They are not even looking at each other. They are looking at the fan like the way a statue stares at you, unmoving. Cringe.

The room is so quiet. Poor girl, I hope she didn’t feel awkward afterwards because if it were me, I would’ve cried from how stoic they looked and how quiet everyone was.

How they both scratch themselves, Misha on the head and Jensen on the nose. Maybe the question hit too close to home

Jensen turns to look at Misha as if to say ’help me out here man. We don’t wanna disappoint our fans.”

Misha gets it because he gets up. This whole thing is gold.

The way Jensen breathes out in anticipation. I know it was like they were playing a skit about personal space but why was he breathing like that? Shouldn’t he have been playing it as ‘uncomfortable’ not ‘turned on.’ Boudoir mannerisms.

Moving on Misha is unsure on where to touch Jensen 40.31. This is weird in and of itself because usually, they don’t have a problem touching each other’s faces, tush, eggplants, (jib4 anyone), backs et cetera. But now it’s weird? *cough* breakup *cough*

Misha touches Jensen’s ear and Jensen literally moans. He frigging moans people. In case it is not clear in the video, here is an isolated audio version of it. Jensen is also fumbling with his shirt like he’s all hot and bothered. Just like Misha did earlier. Was Jib3 their couple’s therapy that reminded them how happy and horny they made each other?

Jensen is really not answering the question, to be honest. He’s fumbling for words and trying so very hard to make sense but his word are  incoherent.

Misha going in for the nose dip. I know friends do this all the time but you have to be very close and familiar with someone such as a friend friend or a sibling for you to poke a finger in their nose. I mean noses are slimy and eww…anyway. That happened. They seem so comfortable with it. Jensen I love you but please stop talking.

The way Jensen looks at Misha. He has the cutest smile on his face as if saying thank you for making that fun and making me horny, I still want you.

Misha wiping his pinky that touched Jensen’s nose on his pants. (I wanted to add something disgusting about what heshould’ve done with that pinky but I won’t so let’s move on)

Jensen wiggling his nose.

When Misha suggests that Spn moves to Nickolodeon. Jensen laughs a bit too hard.

Misha talking about spn being a puppet show reminds me of how he mentioned them having a puppet show in Jensen’s backyard after the show is over.

Jensen also saying that in a way spn is a puppet show. I mean is someone making snide comments about how their strings get pulled and sometimes they are not happy about it. Like how they fired his boyfriend. It seems like it’s an inside joke.

They named the plushie Zippy aww :))

For jack’s sake guys, the way they look at each other when they mention that the  résumé was the highlight of the panel.

Jensen saying the more dirt you dig up on Misha, the more rewarded you are. Aww, someone’s trying to win his man back by any means necessary. You go girl…I mean Jensen.

He talks more about how he’s looking forward to next year when fans have more dirt on his friend Misha. Jensen didn’t want to leave the stage, he was lingering so he could spend more time with Misha.

It’s over guys.

Closing Ceremony

I know you didn’t ask for the closing ceremony but here you go. It’s a free gift.

Can I just mention how Jarpad is an overactive puppy? He has to play with anything and everything he finds.

The mc announces Misha twice for some reason. The second time Jensen looks in Misha’s direction with a small smile on his face. He [Jensen] is also chewing vigorously.

Jensen and Jarpad being typical dude bros and karate chop Rich. This is why the difference between his relationship with Jarpad and Misha stands out. He would be too busy making heart eyes to Misha to kick another guy. LoL.

Jensen hulking out when Jarpad is taking a video of everyone. Lol. This video keeps reiterating my point that his relationship with the two men is just different.

Jensen keeps looking in Misha’s direction, Misha who is busy talking to Steve and having fun. Let me also mention Steve is Jensen’s bestie and so are Jarpad and Misha, but I’m sure that Jensen felt some type of way, jealous when they were having so much fun with his man and he couldn’t. Jarpad also takes a while filming Misha for Jensen of course. They remind me of me having a crush back when I was in school. Wait, did Misha look at Jensen? It’s hard to see because the angle of the video is not expansive but I guess he was.

As soon as Jarpad gets back, Jensen takes the camera from him and starts filming fans. I’m sure he just wanted Misha to look at him

Rich mention’s Misha and something about acting on camera and Jensen licks his lips looking at Misha (I think).

Jensen then vigorously grabs the microphone from someone immediately and mention’s Misha. Jarpad’s reaction at that moment tells you everything you need to know about what’s going on between Jensen and Misha. It looks like he is pleading with Jensen in his head saying, “Don’t embarrass yourself bro. Please don’t” but it’s too late.

Jensen again talks about Misha’s résumé and specifically about acting on camera, the thing that made Misha laugh out loud during their panel. Someone’s smitten. Defending his ex-man.

Jarpad goes to whisper something to Misha. And they laugh while Jensen is thanking the jib staff for doing an amazing job. But when he sees the duo laughing, he loses track of thought and says ��and they are all getting married”  dude what ??? How do you go from thanking people who worked on the convention and in .1 seconds you are talking about they are all getting married? Who is? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? No one gets it, he says he’s kidding and gives Jarpad the microphone, spares a glance at Misha and he seems distraught from that moment on. I wish I could see Misha’s face through all this.

He’s glancing in Misha’s direction again. Man’s got it bad. What?! Oh to be loved by Jensen Ackles. Misha must be a prize, I know he is a mad genius and gorgeous and sexy as hell with that golden skin that looks like it was dipped in gold and honey, big blue eyes that are bluer than the bluest blue, but Jensen wtf man? You are in public.

 I think Jarpad is telling Jensen something maybe it has to do with what he and Misha were talking about earlier?

And it’s over people.

Overall, I agree with the breakup theory. I mean the way these two were acting around each other was very strange. If you watch Misha and Jarpad, they seem okay from the opening ceremony up till the end but Jensen and Misha are just being weird.

The panel was mostly fun but their body language told a story that something was definitely going on between them. 

@littlewolf2703

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[natromanxoff]

Mercury Roadrunner's Interview about Freddie Mercury with Peter Freestone – Part II

Thanks very much to Mercury Roadrunner (Pavel Strashnyy) for letting me share his amazing interviews! Originally shared here.

Check the tag "MR interview with Phoebe" to see the other parts. Here are the 3 main topics of this interview, beginning of each topic is written in bold:

1. Language skills

2. Music videos, Garden Lodge

3. Celebrity friends, leg damage story, Joe Fanelli, relationship between band members, Freddie's last days

PS: So here is our second part and the first topic is about Freddie’s language skills:

Did he actually know only the English language or did he also know the Gujarati language or any other languages?

PF: When his parents were in Garden Lodge or if he called his mother on the telephone, he only spoke English. I suppose, he must have understood Gujarati, because, okay, in the school he was taught English, but before the school, when he was in Zanzibar and he would have been with is parents, so I would have thought they would have been speaking in Gujarati.

He had about twenty words of German after living in Munich for so many years. He couldn’t speak German, but I think he understood the language, if he was paying attention, because most of the people around him were talking English, so he never really had the need to learn German. Although, saying that, one of his partners, Winnie, was German and did not speak a lot of English, but then he had Barbara to do the translating.

PS: The second topic is about a very special song “Mad The Swine”, which was recorded in 1972, but was released only in 1991 as a B side of “Headlong” single. Why, after so many years, Freddie decided to come back to it and release it?

PF: Freddie knew that “Innuendo” was going to be his last complete album and I think that this song had a special place in his heart, there were something about it, and as far as he was concerned, it never got an airing he felt it deserved and the rest of the band was happy to put it on.

PS: I mentioned the “Headlong” song and you can be seen in some archival footage of making of the “Headlong” video, you help to lay the Queen members on the shelves. What are your memories about that day?

PF: I was just there to help them. When they are making a video, they don’t need someone to take care of costumes, because there is a costume person, there is a makeup person, everybody is there to do something. And so I was there for Freddie, looking after him, and it just seemed natural to help out. And the band would feel more comfortable if that was someone that they know who would help to put them on the shelves rather than some technician turning up and trying to do it. And this moment with selves wasn’t’ planned. That wasn’t in the storyboard, it’s just that they saw it, there were four shelves so they just thought “Well, why not? Let’s do something crazy”. And the idea must have come from the band member, because Rudi would have seen all the possibilities when he was checking out where they were going to be doing the filming, and if he had thought of using the shelves, that would be one of the ideas put in the beginning.

PS: There are also some parts where we can see you in “The Great Pretender Extended Version” video - can you remember anything about it?

PF: It was just a big long laugh. There is not one part of the making of the actual scenes that they are not laughing and smiling. Roger, Peter and Freddie – they just clicked, it all worked. Nobody had to be bigger than the next one, nobody had to take the spotlight, and they just were there, having a good time.

PS: What is your personal favourite memory from that day?

PF: Personally, for me it is watching the recording of the six girls –you know, both of the backing group were girls, they were wearing two different outfits – and watching the recordings, when they were recording the one group of three and then the other group of three, the costumes they got in to and what they did – you couldn’t help but feel really-really happy. They were actually standing on the same platform when they were recorded. And then, of course, they used computer graphics to put two different groups on the screen at the same time. Just watching three of them there on the platform, waving their hands goodbye, it brings back the memories of those groups of backing singers in the sixties.

PS: What are your memories of making of the “Breakthru” video?

PF: I remember that it was probably the hottest night of the year, no sleep, because it was just so hot and humid. They had a huge problem with the opening scene, and they shot that last in fact. But they had a huge problem because when the engine went into the tunnel it caused air pressure so that that polystyrene wall burst out a long time before the engine arrived. So they tried it earlier on and that’s when they found that that’s what happened, and then they had to do playing around with it during the day, there was people doing that while the rest of the filming was going on, and then they had to sort of re-do it and it was the last shot. And the engine was actually already in the tunnel before it started getting up a bit of speed. And it wasn’t going as fast as people think it does, so that it looked right. It was a fun day. Only the band and the actual film crew were allowed on the flatbed, where the band were performing, because of the way it was being filmed, you could easily be in shot, so the less people that were there – the better. John was having a ball, I remember him laughing a lot, he was enjoying himself. And there was a normal carriage, like a dining car, but old, 1930-1940s, and that was where we would have food and drink. And it was wonderful. It’s a working old train line, it’s a tourist thing, but it’s great, it’s really-really nice and it’s not that far away from London. And Freddie was enjoying the shooting. I was surprised when I saw what he was doing on that flatbed, he was leaning over the edge as the train was going along, but again, it looks faster than it was. It really was only going at about 25-30 kilometers an hour. But it’s made to look as though they are speeding along.

PS: And what was the very first Queen video you were presented on?

PF: The very first video that I was involved with was “Save Me”, because it was shot during two shows of the “Crazy Tour”, I think it was at “The Rainbow” and it was shot at “Alexandra Palace”. Because it was the mix of the live action, the cartoon girl, the bird – and that was the hardest thing – to get Freddie to almost catch the bird, the pigeon. They had to re-film it for about 15 times. And it was where David Mallet, the director, fell of the stage into the orchestra pit. Everybody panicked for a few minutes, but then he stuck his head up “Oh, I’m alright”. It was about 2-3 meters he felled. And then followed all the post-production with the girl, with the cartoon, and how they blended the live pigeon to become the cartoon one and all that sort of work – all of it was done afterwards and it was done before Christmas 1979.

PS: And what was the very last Queen video you were presented on?

PF: “I’m Going Slightly Mad” video. I remember the penguin on the couch moment. Actually most of all I remember the way Diana was with Freddie, because she just took such a good care of him, she had special thermal underwear made for Freddie, because right from my meeting with Freddie in 1979 I remember the easiest thing for Freddie was to feel cold. And it only got worse the more sick he got. And she had special thermal underwear made for him that went underneath the shirt and the suit. She just was there for him all the time and it was just wonderful to see.

PS: And did Freddie usually have cold hands or he had normal temperature of hands?

PF: He could have normal warm hands, but often they would be cold. So maybe he could have a blood circulation problem.

PS: Can you remember something about the shooting of “I Want It All” video?

PF: I don’t think I was at that one, because that would have been Joe, Joe Fanelli would have been there, because we sort of took in turns – he would go to one, I would not, I’ll do all the stuff at home, then I would go to one and he would stay at home.

PS: And it was also the same for you take the turns in concerts?

PF: No, I was on tours with Freddie from 1979 till 1985 and then Joe took over from the last part of 1985 and 1986.

PS: And why you stopped going on tours and Joe took that part?

PF: Because Garden Lodge had been completed and to keep the insurance cover someone had to be living there, so I got to live there. I moved in six months before Freddie did. And Freddie moved in in the middle-end 1985. Because what we did was – Freddie was at Mary’s home and Terry and I took Oscar and Tiffany away from Stafford Terrace. Because Freddie was supposed to move in and he kept putting it off again and again, he said “I’ll do it tomorrow”, “I’ll do it at the weekend”, there was always a reason, an excuse, so what Terry and I did – we went and kidnapped Oscar and Tiffany and took them to Garden Lodge. And then, when Freddie went home and he was looking for the cats, Terry said: “No, they are not here, they are at your other home” – and Freddie moved within two days.

PS: And what was it like living with Freddie in Garden Lodge? What are your first memories of start of living there?

PF: At that point I was living above the kitchen. Joe and I had rooms that were above the kitchen, just up those stairs. And it just felt strange just to be living in that house. The thing is, I’ve been living with Freddie for years, because whenever we were in hotels it was always a two bedroom suit, so I knew how he was, what he would do, what he needed in the morning, how the moods could change, that was all standard, that was all normal. The difference was being in the luxury of Garden Lodge, knowing that it was a house, not the hotel, and the fact that he had made us promise, both Joe and myself, that we would treat this place as our home. It wasn’t just work and somewhere to stay because of work – it was our home.

Some houses have energy, they have a feeling, and while Freddie was in Garden Lodge it was a really warm, friendly house.

PS: And the atmosphere in the house changed almost at the moment Freddie passed away, right?

PF: Literally. For me, while he was still alive, even in those last minutes, it was still the same house, but literally within minutes, while we were waiting for the doctor, it just became bricks and mortar, it just became somewhere to sleep, somewhere to live.

PS: You mentioned living together with Freddie in hotels, but do you remember living with Freddie in some flats or houses before Garden Lodge?

PF: We were living in his apartment in New York. The way it was set up there were two bedrooms, sitting room, dining room, kitchen, a maid’s room and a sort of TV room.

And later we lived together for six months in Los Angeles. Recording “The Works”. They rented the big house for Freddie. A nice house, big-big house. It belonged to a doctor, who just constantly rented it out to stars, who needed somewhere to stay while they were filming. Elizabeth Taylor apparently stayed there, George Hamilton was there, lots of different film stars used it. It was a big house in nice big gardens, it had a swimming pool, had a tennis court, you know, it all the things you need.

PS: And it was actually two of you living there together?

PF: Yeah, Freddie and me. And Terry was there too, to drive.

PS: And speaking of Freddie’s New York Times, can you actually remember what was his the most favourite part of the city?

PF: Most evenings he would end up down on Christopher street, which is down near Greenwich Village. Because there were bars around there, clubs around there, restaurants around there, everything was there in that area, in the West Village.

PS: Our next topic is about Freddie Mercury and George Michael; we can see them together at “Barcelona” album launch party and Queen 20th anniversary party – do you remember the interaction between them?

PF: They actually met up at Live Aid, after it finished. We had to stay in the bar, because there were absolutely no way any cars were going to get out of the stadium area, because of the traffic and everything. And that was the very first time that they actually met. Freddie admired him, he thought George had a great talent both in writing and in singing, but there was no special friendship, because Freddie didn’t create big friendships with other musicians. He preferred, so to say, normal people. And also he enjoyed actors and actresses, their company, more than other musicians, because the way he felt, most musicians just wanted to talk about music and he had many more interests. So, yes, if Freddie and George were in the same place, then yes, they would meet up and they would chat about what was going on in their lives, but most of it was always about work. Their conversations would always be like “what was the tour like” and they would laugh, because they would make jokes about what they had been doing. Freddie could make a joke out of any situation. He didn’t tell anecdotes as such, but he could see something and he could make a joke out of it.

PS: As you mentioned Freddie having friends among actors and actresses, could you remember some of them?

PF: Anita Dobson, Debby Bishop, Carol Wood, Pam Ferris, Susannah York. One he would like to have met and she lived literally just across the road, but it never came, was Diana Rigg. And he was incredibly happy when I gave him an autograph from Honor Blackman. I met her and I said “Could I have an autograph, please”, she says “yes, of course, who’s it for?” and I said “it’s just for my friend, Freddie”. And he was overjoyed with it and he kept it in his bedside drawer.

PS: And who was his favourite actors?

PF: Franco Nero, James Mason, Laurence Olivier. And he got to meet him, so that was another of Freddie’s absolute joys. Dave Clark took Freddie to dinner at Laurence Olivier’s house. It was when they were working on “The Time” musical.

PS: And it was actually very last Freddie’s live performance, can you remember something special about it?

PF: Yes, April 1988. I just thought how amazing it sounded. We all heard “In my defence” before, but when he did “it’s in every one of us” as a duet with Cliff that was absolutely amazing. We had goose bumps. And then after the performance we went to Cliff Richard’s dressing room, sitting and talking there.

PS: And you said that Freddie didn’t have many friends amongst musicians, but could you remember something special about Freddie and Elton John’s friendship?

PF: They first met back in 74/75, when Queen were managed by John Reid and in those days both of them were constantly touring so they could rarely meet up. But every now and then Queen would have just done the show and Elton would be performing the next day, so he was already in the hotel and we would meet up and go round, sitting in Elton’s room talking. And then for about a couple of years after Freddie’s diagnosis they didn’t see each other, but then Freddie told Elton about his status and for the last year and a half Elton would regularly come to Garden Lodge. And in Freddie’s last two weeks Elton would ring us, say what time he would arrive, so that he wouldn’t be seen arriving, he wouldn’t come through the front door, and we would let him in through the Mews in his mini, so nobody knew he was there. He had to go to Paris to record, so he gave me all of the numbers: hotel number, the studio number, his mobile number, his assistance’s mobile number, all the numbers, just to let him know when it happen, because he knew it was going to happen. And at the very last time he came to Garden Lodge, he drove in one of his Bentleys and parked it right outside the front door and the press were running over to him asking “why are you here?” and Elton just turned around and said “I’ve come to see my friend”. And that was it, he just came in and they sat and talked. And when Elton came, it was really just Freddie and him in the room, just talking.

PS: And what was the story about Freddie getting his leg damaged in Munich?

PF: Freddie, when he had a few drinks, he would pick people up, just lift them off the floor, to show how strong he was. So Freddie had picked someone up and then someone next to him bumped into his knee and the ligaments tore, because instead of the way it was supposed to bend the knee bend the other way. Freddie then dropped the person he was carrying, he was screaming in pain and we had to go and get it set. When Queen filmed “It’s A Hard Life” in the end of the video, you can see him favouring the leg.

PS: And as you mention “It’s A Hard Life” video, Freddie’s friend Barbara Valentin stars in this video and she was a star in films of Rainer Werner Fassbinder – did Freddie ever discuss his films with her?

PF: Yeah, because she had videos of them. Freddie did meet Fassbinder once. They were in the “Deutsche Eiche”, which was Fassbinder’s favourite restaurant, he was always in it in Munich. And Barbara would take Freddie there every now and then. So Barbara introduced them to each other, they talked a bit, but they were there for lunch, it wasn’t a planned meeting or anything like this.

PS: And what film directors Freddie admired?

PF: Vincente Minnelli, George Cukor, the directors of the 40’s-50’s.

PS: What are your memories of Joe Fanelli?

PF: He was American. The first time I met him his relationship with Freddie was just finishing, this was in 1979. But he stayed in London and worked a lot in London. He was working in different restaurants. He was an amazing chef. And they kept in touch over the years and that’s why when Garden Lodge was finished and someone had to be there, that’s when Freddie thought to bring Joe back. And it worked, because Joe used to go to the gym all the time and he was taking care of himself, which he didn’t do so much when he was with Freddie. He was great. He was amazing on the computer. Computers were just starting, but Joe could write programs and things. Freddie’s favourite programme on television was “Countdown”, which is where they pick out seven letters and you have to make the longest word you possibly can out of those seven letters and then there’s also the numbers thing as well – and Joe created that on the computer for Freddie so that he didn’t wait for it just on the TV. He was fun, and he was good; it was good working with him and most of the time we just got on so well. Garden Lodge would not have been the same without him.

PS: And you mentioned Joe programming “Countdown” for Freddie so Freddie could actually play this game on computer?

PF: Well, no, he couldn’t, but he could sit there and Joe would do the computer. The computer was bought by Freddie for Garden Lodge and it was set upstairs on the musician’s gallery in the big sitting room.

PS: How would you describe the relationship between Freddie and other Queen members?

PF: They were all close to each other, but in a different ways.

Freddie was close with John. John was the new boy, he was the last one to join, he was the youngest, and Freddie just felt protective. He wanted to protect him a little bit for the dangers of rock’n’roll. But then John got married, had Veronica, so he had the security of home, and John was not around Freddie as much, but it didn’t stop the friendship because of what happened at the end. John just decided to finish because Freddie wasn’t there anymore.

With Roger it was a different friendship. And a very good friendship, because both of them had similar personality trait, they both enjoyed a good drink; they both enjoyed a good party.

And with Brian, of course, they were friends, but Brian was much more serious and Freddie was much more of a laughing person than Brian. Brian thought about things so much. But Freddie knew that he would never find anyone better than Brian to help him with the music.

PS: We know that Brian and Roger visited Freddie in his last days, but we never heard of John visiting Freddie.

PF: I don’t think John was prepared to see Freddie looking like he did in the last days, but John came and visited Freddie before those last two weeks. I know that he did come to the house, but I don’t think he could accept seeing Freddie the way he was in those last weeks.

PS: Freddie started to get a lot worse in those last two weeks?

PF: For the last two weeks Freddie hardly ate, he hardly drank. He was taking no drugs that were keeping him alive anymore, he was taking painkillers, and that was it.

PS: What was the reason of Freddie’s last visit to Montreux?

PF: He just wanted to get away from London. He wanted to have a little bit of peace and quiet away from all the press. He had that apartment in Montreux, so he went there.

For the last two-three years of his life he would be there every other month for a couple of weeks. There was no feeling of “this is the last time I’m going to Montreux”, that wasn’t part of his mentality, he only decided that this was the last visit when I called him, because I wasn’t with him, Jim, Joe and Terry were with him at that time, I was in Garden Lodge and I rang him and I said: “Look, just so that you are aware when you come home, that there are press outside the house 24 hours a day. In the nighttime it’s down to about four or five and in the daytime it’s up to about twenty”.

And that’s when he decided that when he went into Garden Lodge, coming back from Switzerland, it would be the last time, because he knew that he would never be able to get out again.

PS: And how long was he there for the last time?

PF: For about two weeks.

PS: And how do you remember him when he came back?

PF: He was sort of happy, but he was a bit withdrawn, because he had made the decision that when he came into Garden Lodge, it would be the last time, that he would never leave it again. He already had decided that, so, of course, he was a little bit more thoughtful, more inward thinking rather than being laughing and all that. But still, even in those two last two weeks there were still times when he would laugh, because he never wanted sad people around him.

PS: What are your last memories of Freddie?

PF: Since he got back from Switzerland on the 10th, he basically stopped eating and drinking. He would have a little bit, but that’s it. So, of course, he was tired, he had no energy. Most of the time he had short sleeps, short sleep –wake up, short sleep – wake up.

In those last two weeks, except for his needs, the only other time Freddie left his room, was when Terry carried him downstairs, on the Wednesday, 20th of November, because he just wanted to look around the main room, he just wanted to have a last look at paintings, at the crystal. He just wanted to spend some more time in that huge room where he felt most comfortable.

The last week of Freddie’s life he was actually never alone, because between Joe, Jim and myself, we would spend twelve hours with him and there was always one of us with him. We did the shifts from eight in the evening till eight in the morning. The last time that I was with him was on the Friday night. And on that Friday night I got there just before eight o’clock. And, you have to remember, that at eight o’clock the statement was released to the world that Freddie had AIDS. The thing is, those hours I was with him, he was the most relaxed I had seen him in years, because there was no secret anymore, the whole world knew. And he would just talk about anything, he would be in bed, I would be sitting on the bed next to him and I would be just holding his hand. The television was on, just for some noise, he would talk and he would go to sleep and talk and go to sleep. And we talked about silly little things, nothing really serious, and nothing like “we knew everything was coming to an end”, there was none of that. He could still talk fine, his mind was together, he just was very-very tired.

But, I think, because the statement had been done, I think Freddie felt that it was time for him to go. Because it was coming up for eight o’clock and I think it was Joe coming in at that point, Joe was coming at eight, and I said to Freddie something like “Look, okay, I’m going now, Joe is going to be here, but, of course, I’ll see you, I’ll see you soon”, he said something like “uhum, yeah, yeah”.

And then he just took my hand, looked me straight in the eye and just said “Thank you”.

And I will never know, whether he already decided that we would never meet again and was thanking me for the last twelve years, or if he was just thanking me for the last twelve hours.

But I have a feeling that he already knew that we would not see each other again.

PS: Do you remember when you for the very first time understood that you are not just working with Freddie, but you are becoming friends?

PF: That really started from the very-very beginning, because we didn’t have to always talk to each other to know what he wanted. I understood him. Because of our similar upbringing in boarding school in India I knew why he reacted in some ways, why he did things, I knew it, it was just instinctive and it made everything very-very easy for him and for me. Maybe it became more intense when Freddie started the time out of Britain, because we were going to be together 24 hours a day, so you have to be friends. And for me, it was the easiest thing on earth to be friends with Freddie. I never thought about Freddie, The Superstar. I was thinking about Freddie, my friend.

SPECIAL THANKS TO VALUREX FOR CONTRIBUTION AND ASSISTENCE

[luvteez]

bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong​ for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will 

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“ 

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder. 

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

[bbysamu]

A (Sad) Love Story

⇢ Featuring: MIYA Osamu x you

⇢ Genre: Angst to Fluff

⇢ Warning: None

⇢ WC: 1,262

⇢ Inspired By: Love Story - Epik High ft. IU

Preview: A look back at the snippets of your relationship from the perspective of the camera.

You can’t even pinpoint it, but somewhere along the line, your paths diverged. You don’t realize until you look up and see him on the opposite shore.

“Do you think it’s for the best?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Maybe one day we’ll come back to each other.” He sounded tired.

“Maybe.”

“This is it?” He doesn’t want to let go.

“I think so.”

“Okay.” With the reality in front of him, how could he say no to the inevitable future.

“okay.”

“bye.” He whispers and the line goes dead.

The bedroom darkens as the sun sets, you don’t bother turning on the light.

ding - click to see your memory three years ago today. You tap open the notification.

[ 3 years ago - a memorable Monday ]

MIYA Osamu smiles nervously.

“What are we doing today Samu?” His twin asks from behind the camera, panning the device around to capture the scattered petals and the picnic blanket on the floor.

“I’m asking Y/N to be my girlfriend. Y/N if you’re seeing this video it means you’re my girlfriend and I love you!”

“ew you creep. How can you love her already?”

Osamu glares at Atsumu, “shut up you faux blonde. I’ve loved her since the moment I saw her.”

“I --” Atsumu was interrupted by the notification on his phone, “yo Suna says Y/N is coming up to the roof now.”

“hurry, go hide in the corner over there.”

“you got this Samu.”

“thanks Tsumu.”

Atsumu’s hand trembled slightly as you emerged into view. “Don’t mess this up!” he whispered, cheering on his twin.

“Hey Samu, what’s up!” You called out cheerfully.

“I was wondering if you wanted to have a picnic with me today?”

“Does it involve onigiri?”

He pretended to look offended, “who do you take me for? of course there’s onigiri.”

You laughed and he smiled, “then what are we waiting for? Wait why are there so many flower petals?”

He answered your question with another, “before we have our picnic, I have to ask you something.”

“Please don’t be weirded out, we’ve been friends for so long and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, but I can’t hide it anymore. Ever since you entered the classroom two years ago, I’ve been in love with you. You’re the most amazing, kind, intelligent girl I know.”

Osamu looked at you shyly, “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

With your back to Atsumu, the camera couldn’t capture your expressions, but your enthusiastic, “yes! Samu I thought you’d never ask!” made it easy for one to imagine the joy etched on your face.

“gosh finally, my legs are cramping.” Atsumu remarked just as the video cuts off.

You fingers hovered over the delete button before swiping left.

[ 2 years ago - a lazy Sunday ]

“Why do you guys always drag me along on your dates?” Atsumu groaned.

You smiled cheekily into the camera, “because we need a videographer.”

“couldn’t you get Suna to do it? He actually enjoys filming people.”

“He’s busy today. Plus don’t you want your twin brother to be happy?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t be bitter just because you don’t have a girlfriend Tsumu. Green is not a good color on you.”

“shut up, Y/N”

“don’t tell my girlfriend to shut up.”

The camera captured your surprised expression before turning over to Osamu’s confused one.

“Samu why are you here so early!”

“I always arrive early to our dates so you don't ever have to wait for me.”

“well you shouldn’t have today. Now the surprise is ruined!”

“what surprise?”

“Surprise!” The rest of the Inarizaki team jumped out from behind the counter.

Osamu looks at you, “what is going on?”

“Happy one year anniversary babe!”

“That’s not until tomorrow though.”

“yeah I know, but since every one is busy tomorrow, I thought I’d gather them today to give you a surprise anniversary event, since you know, the whole team helped out when you asked me out last year. I thought it’s only fair if they get to participate in our anniversary too.”

Kita and Aran brings in the cake with a picture of you kissing Osamu on the cheeks.

“Wait what was the surprise?”

“Well the lights were supposed to be turned off then we’d jump out and scare you.”

“Aren’t you the prankster?”

“hey love birds can we eat this cake or what?” Atsumu calls out from behind the camera.

“Go ahead guys!” You call out.

The camera captures Osamu leaning down towards you, “thank you my love.”

The video ends.

[ 1 year 2 months ago - a rainy Wednesday ]

“Hi everyone! My boyfriend and I are here trying out the hottest ramen place in town.”

Osamu looks at you curiously, “who is everyone?”

“I thought I'd take a stab at vlogging.”

“oh trying to be an influencer I see you.” He teases.

“shut up and eat your noodle.”

He gladly comply, his eyes twinkling as he looks up into the camera, “oh babe this is so good you gotta try the soup.”

He takes a spoonful, blowing on it before feeding it to you.

“mmm it is good. Try mine try mine!”

“yours is good too, but I think mine is better.”

“oh really?” You look down at your ramen disappointedly.

“Here we can trade, I ate half already.” He takes the camera from you, filming you as you ate the other half.

“thanks Samu, you’re right, yours is better.” You sighed contently, “there’s nothing better than hot ramen on a rainy day.”

“you got that right.” You boyfriend echoes behind the camera.

You take the phone from him and flip on selfie mode, “come here, now we can both be on screen.”

“well we’re almost done, should we plan what to do next?”

“wanna get ice cream?”

Osamu kissed you on the cheek, “you read my mind.”

You smiled into the camera before hitting “end recording”.

[ 6 months ago - a silly Thursday ]

The camera pans to you and Osamu sitting on the sofa, his arms wrapped around you as he nods, engrossed in your story.

“ew look at the love birds” Atsumu whispers.

He walked closer to the two of you when you suddenly draped your long hair over Osamu’s head.

Atsumu bursts out laughing, “what is going on here?”

You look up into the camera, laughing along, “I was telling him how this girl on YouTube bought a wig for her boyfriend and dressed him up as a girl as a prank on Tinder. We wanted to see how Samu will look as a girl.”

The camera cuts to a long-haired Osamu winking and blowing kisses, pretending to be a girl.

“well one things for sure, he’s the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen.”

The video blurs as Atsumu start running, Osamu chasing after him.

“we got the same face! You’d look just as ugly!”

“I’m more handsome!”

“yeah right!”

“don’t fight over stupid things you guys!” You laughed.

“it’s not stupid. Babe, tell him I’m more handsome!”

The camera cuts off.

You eyes hurt. You’re not sure if it’s from the tears or the fact that your phone screen was your only light source. You turn on the lights, fingers once again hovering over the “delete” button before deciding otherwise.

You text him, “hey”.

A reply comes in immediately, “hi.”

“One day we’ll come back to each other.”

“yes, one day.” There was no hesitation, you smiled.

“goodnight Samu.”

“good night Y/N.”

The two of you slept much better that night, the promise of “one day” etched in both hearts.

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[bitcoinprophets]

Big Think Confirms biblical stories of destruction

A vast city of 10,000 once stood within the grounds of Tel Zafit National Park. Now it is an archaeological dig, nothing but burned mud bricks, a crumbling break in the city’s defenses, and weapons cobbled together at the last minute from animal bones. What happened here? What force brought this great city to its end? According to the Bible, Gath was one of the main Philistine cities and the home of Goliath the Giant. Its destruction is glossed over, described in less than one verse of the Bible, in the book of 2 Kings. Archaeologists have long worked to figure out what happened to the ancient city of Gath, and just as important, when it happened. But dating sites like this is no straightforward task. Recently, a team of scientists led by Yoav Vaknin of Tel Aviv University tried a new method to date archaeological digs like Gath: They used the Earth’s magnetic field. Their results recently appeared in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Deep within the Earth, thousands of miles below the crust, lies the boundary between the planet’s solid inner core and the molten outer core that surrounds it. That boundary burns at 6,000° C, hotter than the surface of the Sun. It is the hottest place on Earth. In the outer core, massive currents of molten iron convect in giant cells around the inner core. Imagine water boiling on your stove — only on a much larger scale, and warmed by superheated liquid rock. This rock is made up of iron and nickel, and its motion creates the Earth’s protective magnetic field. We can thank that magnetic field for a lot of things, including life. It helps shield the Earth, deflecting radiation up and around the planet. It protects our planet from solar winds and coronal mass ejections from our sun, as well as from cosmic rays. But since motion within the core is chaotic, the magnetic field is dynamic, too. In fact, the magnetic field of the Earth completely reverses — the North and South take turns being the pole of attraction. Sometimes the switch happens after tens of thousands of years, sometimes after tens of millions, but even when it is not reversing, the magnetic field of the Earth is constantly in flux. The North Pole travels about 45 km per year, its intensity gradually varying. The history of changes in the magnetic field is recorded in rock. Perhaps the most well-known record is etched in stone at the mid-Atlantic ridge. Here, new seafloor is constantly being created as the tectonic plates spread along fault lines as long as the ocean. As these molten rocks orient themselves, cool, and solidify, they record the direction and intensity of the magnetic field. A search of the seafloor allows us to read the history of the Earth’s magnetic field itself. Surprisingly, this method can also be used for archaeological sites like the one at Gath. If rocks at these sites become hot enough, they too can align to show the intensity and direction of the magnetic field. Such heat can be generated during military actions, when widespread destruction is common. If you were an Israelite around 2,800 years ago, the name Hazael probably struck fear into your heart. In the book of 2 Kings, city after city falls to King Hazael. This ruler of Damascus leveled many cities in Judah and Israel. The prophet Elisha addresses Hazael in 2 Kings 8:12: “‘Why does my lord weep?’ asked Hazael. ‘Because I know,’ he replied, ‘what harm you will do to the Israelite people: You will set their fortresses on fire, put their young men to the sword, dash their little ones in pieces, and rip open their pregnant women.’”  Many archaeological sites illustrate the brutality of Hazael’s campaigns. They tell the stories of how entire cities were destroyed, and Gath was one of these. Massive destruction is evident at the site, showing a long siege trench, fallen buildings, and human remains. Different approaches to date these sites lead to different conclusions. But one element in the destruction of these cities could help researchers. The battles were extensive and terrible, with widespread fires blazing at over 600° C. This heat baked the mud bricks in the cities, and aligned them with the Earth’s magnetic field. Vaknin and his team realized this, and they knew something else about the Earth during this time. While the magnetic field is continually changing, there are periods during which it fluctuates more quickly. This period was one of them, with fluctuations measuring twice as strong as their current propensity. “The dating resolution depends on the rapid fluctuations, so I am lucky to work on this period,” Vaknin told Big Think. In short, the scattered fragments of ruins held the information researchers needed to determine exactly when these cities were destroyed. To use this data, the team gathered the information the mud bricks held about the direction and intensity of the Earth’s magnetic field, and they combined it with knowledge of other events whose timing is precisely known. These events are known as chronological anchors, and unfortunately, Vaknin says, they are rare. “The 701 Assyrian campaign is my favorite example,” Vaknin says. “When the historical sources and the archaeological record match (more than 1000 arrowheads found in the destruction of Lachish, for example) — Bingo! We have an anchor. Don't stop here! Keep reading and learn! Read the full article

[utexas-catherinegavin]

Sonic Ethnography

The ways in which sound encourages and facilitate socializing in formally silent spaces.

This is an audio recording of Yarborough Library in Austin, Texas on July 30th, 2022.

The importance of children in libraries and their (obvious) inclination to make noise.

The infrastructure which is present in libraries which effects how sound is heard.

How the sounds in a library have (or will) change.

As I walked into Yarborough Library, after spending hours and hours at seemingly similar spaces, the first thing that struck me was the noise. Usually, when I am taking field notes I struggle to go unnoticed. Even opening a notebook or setting up my laptop can create an auditory disturbance that raises eyes. The feeling of a library reminds me of the notion of "Quiet" as written by Tina M Campt “Quiet must not be conflated with silence. Quiet registers sonically, as a level of intensity that requires focused attention.” Tina M. Camp, Listening to Images.  

However, at Yarborough the energy was different. It was the afternoon, still not the hottest time of day. Even so, the AC was a relief from the 100+ degree weather and this refreshment was noticeable in the patrons inside.

There were groups congregated around each corner of the floor. The two bookkeepers behind the desk carried a loud conversation without even glancing over when I walked in.

The loudest noise was coming from my right. As I walked over, passing two elderly women chatting by the computer lounge, there was a cracked door. A pool of flashing lights and loud music. A little boys birthday party was taking place in the middle of a library! As they shut the door, however, the loud music quickly muffled.

Libraries are not a space which we expect sound. In fact, quite the opposite. The idea of a library often reminds us of being hushed or the quiet turning of pages. However, this understanding of the space does not reflect current realities.

The audio above was recorded while I walked around the perimeter of Yarborough Library. This space, which has been renovated since its first inception as a movie theater, is flat and single storied. What is unique to this space was that the building was not created with its current purpose in mind. Unlike older Libraries this space was engineered to hold sound; and after spending a few hours there this is clear.

Libraries which are designed thoughtfully are a more welcoming environment for social interaction. In this case, however, the Yarborough Library was designed with the invention of entertainment. This idea relates well to the ways in which children fill an important role in the success of a library. All three of the libraries I visited had specific infrastructure which both helped to expand the social interaction of its patrons while also catering to youth.

Often, libraries have large and specific sections which are primarily used for children. These areas are often the most comfortable, looked after, and thoughtfully designed. Perhaps that is because more children go to libraries or vice versa. 

As kids are staying home with their parents, who are more and more likely to work virtually, Libraries become a space for both adults who need a workspace and children who need entertainment. Yarborough, in it's unique instance, is particularly interesting. This library, which was designed with entertaining in mind, may be a glimpse in the future of public library design and infrastructure.

The materials which were used to design the Americana Theater 80 years ago, would likely have included acoustic insulation boards, wall partitions which mitigate noise, and particular drywall with acoustic insulation. These choices, common to all movie theaters, are likely still present in Yarborough, and perhaps one of the reasons why it is a hub for loud social activity.

Perhaps, as libraries get noisier, the architectural and infrastructural designs will look more like Yarborough.

[captainsspnanon]

C2E37 - Dangerous Liaisons - rewatch

Watching the Talks and Travis talking about how he, using sports metaphors, wanted to bench himself the last two games, and explain how he was feeling overwhelmed and stressed and off, and Matt just listening to him completely serious and then giving comforting information and advice and UGH FRIENDSHIP I LOVE IT SO MUCH

PI.  RATE.  LIVE. SHOW.     BI.  RATE.  LIVE.  SHOW.

Goth cast was hot, sure, but pirate cast is hottest cast

*chugs water because I am THIRSTAY*

...okay, I’m done being gross now! XD

Huh, Liam’s using the wooden mug again.  I’ll have to keep my eye out, I didn’t think it was a Caleb mug, but I feel like he’s used it multiple times now.

...is the audio….uh oh, is this the live show where the audio is fucking terrible? *checks comments* Yuuuuppp…… oh that SUCKS.  I mean, I use the CC all the time anyway because it helps hear more slurred or murmured comments, but OOF.  Rough for people who usually don’t, rough for podcast only listeners, and rough for everyone because it’s annoying AF.

Not gonna lie, I wish I could have seen the audience reaction to Sam’s quick change. ...also no longer thirsting for Sam.  ONLY HAMILTON!SAM.

Why does it feel like the intro for this episode is just Matt roasting Travis

Oh, the mugging for the audience.  Sometimes I hate it, sometimes I love it.  I feel like in later episodes (aka mostly the C2 ones) they had a good balance and it didn’t feel corny or over the top a lot, whereas earlier (mostly C1) there was times where it really felt distracting.  But that makes sense, as with C2 they’ve gotten a bit more used to the live shows, whereas C1 is was this sense of HOLY SHIT WHY DO THESE PEOPLE WANT TO WATCH US, which does lead to different interactions. (all this to say, I love the fact that Liam leaned into the audience making “caleb gave me his frumpkin” dirty)

Not even 45 minutes in and Travis has taken off the sash.  This is a guy who does not like wearing costumes XD

Also, I love how the pirate names are all such common names.  Tracy, Phillip, Janet, etc.

Eeeehhh…. See I like the mugging, but then Liam goes and makes a comment directly to the audience and it’s just too much.

Yes, I did rewatch Liam’s mic falling over 8 times so that I could watch everyone’s startle reaction to it.  I feel like my personal startle would probably be somewhere between Marisha and Laura.

….I really hope the people in the audience were able to hear.  Imagine paying to go see a live show, possibly traveling a long time, and then being unable to hear anything because the audio is shit.  I’m REALLY hoping that it’s just the recorded audio that was terrible, and the audience was okay.

I’m having a lot of great thoughts about Fjord and deception and his comfort level with the truth and lying and etc. etc., and I have no energy to try to put it into any form of words.  I’m enjoying the episode (when it’s not completely silent or cutting in and out horribly), but this might be a rewatch post where I don’t say much. XD

I ‘love’ how a bunch of comments are talking about how Beau and Fjord’s relationship is clearly so much better than Beau and Caleb’s relationship because Beau forced secrets from Caleb but is cool letting Fjord not share info, very much disregarding or ignoring the fact that Beau forced secrets from Caleb after knowing him for 17 to 19 days (hard to tell the exact day the conversation took place), whereas by this episode, Beau has known Fjord for 90 days.  Yes, clearly this is about how Beau looks up to Fjord and distrusts Caleb, and not the difference between traveling with someone for two to three weeks versus three months.  (also wow, only three months??? It’s so weird to remember that the M9’s timeline together is so damn short!  Literally just under a year, with them meeting on 16 Sydenstar, and the last ‘day’ in campaign being 14 Sydenstar. And it’s even LESS for them, because 36 of those ‘days’ were in the Happy Fun Ball, so much shorter time for them!)

Travis being confused by Uk’otoa going into Caleb/Liam making an accent joke going into the dagger through the cheese going into Liam ‘I was eating cheese????’ going into ‘apparently’ going into the great leviathan going into Marisha and Liam freaking out and Travis being clueless going into “I am the chosen on Uk’otoa” is just AMAZING.  That entire section is GOLD.

YESSS!!!!  The whisper echo of Uk’otoa starts PRETTY MUCH RIGHT AWAY and I love it

C2 running gags are at a low point right now.  “Nein!” has pretty much faded away entirely, even though the audience is clearly still in it, “Regular Gnoll” just doesn’t have the opportunity to come up much, “making my way” and “it’s been a while” haven’t even started yet! But now we get echo Uk’otoa, so hopefully the running gags are coming back!

(tiny C3 spoiler if you haven’t seen any of it, “making my way” is almost entirely faded out at this point, but they have one campaign specific running gag at least *creepy whisper*)

TRAVIS LITERALLY FORGOT (fjorgot) FJORD HAS DREAMS

HIS FACE.  LITERALLY HIS FACE when everyone is freaking out and he’s like ‘what am I missing’ and then the realization when Sam is frantically pointing at him and telling him he has dreams.  TRAVIS ILU

I forgot that Avantika really was heavily obsessed and almost mad by her obsession from the get-go.  For some reason I’d remembered her being mostly calm until she gives away the orb in her hand, but nope.  Starts from the beginning!

Huh, Caleb seems actually kinda freaked out about the whole thing.  Feels odd, again because I remember him being more calm about it.  But Liam’s doing shakey hands and everything.

….also apparently this arc is very good for widofjord, and yup.  I am feeling it.  XD I love how first watch I was canon pairing, and rewatch I’m multishipping all over the place.

Nott being so supportive of Fjord right now makes me realize that the playfully antagonistic relationship really did start from Fjord (which was really just Travis goofing, to be fair).  It’s so interesting to think of how the dynamic could have been so different if Travis didn’t troll a bit XD

WHEN MOMLAN ASKS MATT WHAT TIME IS IT, LIAM IS LYING FLAT DOWN ON THE GROUND I NEVER NOTICED THIS BEFORE

Liam’s reaction to the Fjord/Avantika scene are GLORIOUS AND WONDERFUL (and I’ve seen some lovely redraws!)  I do not have the energy to go into it here, but more talented people than me have gone into the discussion about Caleb’s backstory and training  and likely exploitation of sexulaity and how it leans into how he views the Fjord/Avantika relationship/manipulation.  Which I agree with 100%, but I do NOT have the ability to go into detail about the levels of abuse and such that it contains.   But oof, there’s definitely shades of ‘I would seduce differently’ in this.

SPEAKING OF!  One – huge props to Travis for RPing through something that he found, if not necessarily uncomfortable, then certainly outside of his comfort zone.  Two – I love that he and Matt both did a little ‘shake it out’ moment before getting into it.  Three – I love Laura’s instinctual making everything an innuendo versus Jester absolutely panicking at the idea of any reciprocation.  And four – huge props to Matt for taking the scene and leaning in and moving away at different levels in what is basically a pro actor move of helping a fellow actor toe the lines but not push into uncomfortability.  He left pretty much all the physical/sexual instigation to Travis, and stayed just around the verbal flirting.  Even touching the hilt, while charged, never actually touched Fjord, and still gave Travis full control over the scene.  Jumping ahead slightly, when they do actually have sex, Matt once again waits for Travis to initiate with the kissing, and then goes and has Avantika take control of the situation, once there is full and clear consent from Travis that he’s okay RPing it.  It can definitely be read as Matt not wanting to have any aspects of unclear consent in his games (Avantika initiating and basically putting Fjord in an ‘he has to’ situation which is 100% awful), but it really reads more to me as player consent rather than PC consent, though of course it ends up being both.

Caleb “I am still watching her” – Travis YES YES YES GOOD CALL YES – Fjord “what the fuck do you mean ‘still’???”

Part of me feels bad for Travis that he does have so much focus this episode and clearly he’s flustered with it.  The other part of me sees that at the least, it visually appears that he’s still having a great time, and is able to comfortably lean into his ‘slips’ or ‘goofs’, so I still enjoy it.  It’s rough!  Especially with the live crowd, which adds a whole next level to the pressure of the one on one with the DM, or the scene leading.  I hope that he was able to end the day feeling good about everything and not feeling bad about misunderstanding the thing or forgetting to ask a question or etc. etc.

ESPECIALLY now heading into the dream sequence.  I felt so bad for him the first time around, he desperately wanted help!  And Matt’s probably thinking ‘c’mon man, I made it like a pensieve since your a huge HP fan!’

“This is so fucking surreal”

@suicidallyreckless