#and this album was there to get me through

[tumharifuyu]

Ride it like you own it| B.C

Synopsis: Chan always needed someone who could ride him.

Riding Chan was something new since you and he recently started but when he saw you for the first time he swore to god. This man fell in love with you at that time he was hard as fuck.

At the after party of the Met Gala, you and him crossed paths. You, a rising American singer, had captured the music world's attention with your debut album "Dopamine," which soared to the number 1 spot on the Billboard charts.

As the night unfolded, he couldn't help but admire your captivating presence. Adorned in a stunning Versace dress from a timeless vintage collection, you exuded an irresistible charm that left a lasting impression. It was a moment frozen in time, where two worlds collided in the most enchanting way.

Rest was history after swapping numbers you were laying all bare in his bed your eyes looking at his ardor eyes that were filled up. With the urge to take you right here.

“Sit on it come on angel,” he said as he took your hands in his fingers touching the inches of skin and sending a quiver down to his crest. You let out a delicate whimper as you put your hands on his chest.

He was laying down as he helped you to sit on his cock.

Your cunt drenched up to his hardened thick cock. The cock sagged into your tiny hole. It took a bit of stretching since he was big he had to finger you and eat you out a lot of time before making you ride him.

“come on princess I know you can take me”

Damn, he was the right cause once he was finally inside you. It was like you could see the stars. Usually, Chan was the one who was the dominant one in the relationship.

Chan was on the pillow.

”oh channie look at you being my pillow prince” you smirked he groaned and his eyes rolled up as you lifted your hips on and off. As a beam of electricity surged through his body, he felt a jolt of energy electrifying every nerve and fiber within him.

Your pussy holding his cock like a lifeline his nails dug up to your skin leaving some imprints on your thighs. His cock curled up inside as you hopped.

The wails and the skin-slapping chimes scatter around the diminutive space. Thankfully, his roommates were out for the night, leaving the apartment quiet and empty. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting gentle light on your skin.

You looked so ethereal right now.

Your messy hair and sticky skin as you were sitting on him like a goddess.

“Oh god baby you look so beautiful “

He cried as he was close he could feel his precum leaking inside you.

He didn't want to finish right.

He yearned for this blissful moment to last more.

He panted as you rumbled your hips, his cock hitting your walls. “That's right baby” he cried cupping your breasts, fondling them a little.

You rolled your hips more as he almost leaked himself inside you.

“Come on change inside me right now” you moaned and licked his nipple as you bent down a little you gently kissed his soft, warm lips, savouring the tender moment as your breaths intertwined in a sweet, lingering embrace.

“Shit baby I am close” A small tremble escaped his body as he felt his face getting red he leaked himself inside you. You felt your insides getting wet because of his white cum jerking inside you.

He laid his head on your shoulder “fuck… only you can make me feel things like this” he peck your shoulder a little leaving the trails of wet kisses.

“I love you Chan” you huffed and beamed at him.

He halted bussing you and chortled a little “I love you more baby girl”

[shotmrmiller]

Obsessed and drooling over red-headed-good-with-cats-ugly-as-shit-won't-fuck-off König. Matching his freak by dragging him to a courthouse to get married immediately after his proposal. Calling his Oma to let her know the great grandkids are in the process of making. We're dropping by with a pie on Saturday to let his family know the loser didn't just make me up

SO fucking funny omf his oma is like plz i love u but you gotta stop lying about you getting a spouse it isn't healthy :(

and then he's dragged home by you with a golden crusted and lattice topped pie. surprise! the photo albums come out at dinner and the only thought running through your head is that the scars did him a favor.

[fobarchiveteam]

The Fall Out Boy 2001 Demo... and the fact that there's actually two of them!

A few years ago, the wonderful Dave Hofer, who owns the DuPage County Hardcore Archive, uploaded the first Fall Out Boy demo from 2001 onto his archive, revealing its existence to the world. Dave was able to locate both a copy of the CD and the cassette versions of this demo, finding out that limited amounts of CDrs and around 100 cassettes were ever made. The CDr has uncut and unmastered versions of the recordings that later appear on the Project Rocket split, but the cassette contains completely different recordings for the first two songs, while an original song that is found nowhere else called “A Nice Myth” replaces Moving Pictures. The truth is that these are actually two separate demos: the cassette recordings came first. These demos were both made in 2001. For the first demo, the band consisted of Patrick on vocals, Pete on bass, Joe on guitar, and two other members who only lasted for a short time in the band: Ben Rose on drums, and John Flamadan on rhythm guitar. It was recorded on an 8-track in Ben’s basement. That 8-track was later turned into the cassette, of course. Both Ben and John left shortly after, and Jared Logan and TJ Kunasch replaced them on the CDr recordings respectively. What you may not know is there was an even rarer version of the CDr demo made: two types of lathe cuts.

These lathe cuts were posted on Discogs as pictures years before Dave’s discovery, so they sat dormant and undiscovered by FOB fans for a long time. After researching the cassettes and CDs for our archive, we stumbled upon these pictures and were perplexed that nobody has mentioned this version elsewhere before. Although this was not really a “new” discovery, we were still intrigued. We contacted the uploader of the picture, and this is what he had to say:

Hey!! Yeah it's honestly a crazy story on how I acquired it, but I believe it's legit. Basically, a few years back (I think 2018 or 19? The listing on the page for the clear version that sold for $0.50 or something crazy was from me, that's how I bought it). I messaged a guy on here that had the CD added in his collection if he would be willing to send me the mp3s/WAV files for his copy, and he did. We talked for a bit about the band and he said I seemed knowledgeable about the band and asked if I wanted his second copy of the lathe (he had two, one clear, one black). I obviously was like "hell yeah dude" and he said he would ship it to me. Fast forward a few weeks (he lived in Australia or some shit) and low & behold, I actually got the damn thing in the mail, plus two promo trading cards from the TTTYG album cycle, one with Andy & one with Joe. A few years later he messaged me that he got in touch with the dude that made the lathes for the band (he was based in Chicago which makes sense). Apparently 26 copies were cut & only 20 got labels thrown on them, members of the band slapped them on themselves. They were only in white paper sleeves, not any picture sleeves unfortunately. The sound quality on them is actually pretty decent for a lathe made in 2001, which is what leads me to believe it's legit. Also, like you had mentioned, the songs didn't leak until a few years back, when I got it I had never heard these versions (it's just the Project Rocket split versions uncut & unmastered essentially, same versions as the ones that leaked from the CD version. That is pretty much all the info I have on it, I hoped that helped some!!

Cheers from Florida - Jake

He later followed up with:

If I'm not mistaken, I believe the guy I got it from got both the clear and black copies verified to be legit by the guy that made them. Also small detail I forgot to include before, he obtained both copies through a lot of FOB merch from eBay. He was looking to get a complete set of TTTYG trading cards, which is why he bought it. But I know in the lot he also got the two lathes & a demo CD, I forget what else he had mentioned. It's odd that the band hasn't spoken of their existence, maybe they forgot? The lathes were probably more of a novelty item than anything, considering that vinyl wasn't very popular in 2001 & they weren't packaged as "properly" as the CDs & tapes, plus they made a lot less of them. I'm assuming they just kinda got tossed around between friends of the band or got sold at random at their early shows. Either way, it's been one of my prized possessions since I've acquired it, let me know if hou have any other questions on it haha

Currently we have no idea who this elusive Chicago lathe maker is, but maybe we may find out one day. These lathe cuts may possibly be the rarest FOB merch in existence.

Side note: The fact that the top title on the cassette specific insert says "Fallout Boy - Growing Up" and then later lists Growing Up as a song below, it may have been intended to be the title of the cassette, and the song was a title track. This is unconfirmed though.

[ckret2]

i’m admittedly obsessed with music/have music as a special interest so this question has been on my mind for quite some time now - if Bill (from your goldilocks fanfic) were to listen to any music, or have any particular music taste, what would it be? Any particular songs in mind that he likes? ( <—totally not looking for more/new songs to listen to hahahahaha…sweats)

half of me thinks he’d like 40s/50’s/60’s music (thanks to the vera lynn reference in the fic, but also bc he sings it in-show), but the other half of me wants him to like musicals (heathers, in particular) - i can’t explain why lol

alternatively, if you’ve answered smth like this already, i’d love to know what songs you enjoy/listen to!

Have a post about his tastes and a hideous-sounding playlist! And it even held up in the face of TBOB.

The only difference in my headcanons is that I said the peak of his his tastes centers on the 60s and I subsequently found an interview where Alex confirms Bill's tastes do indeed range from about 40s~60s; but I just got out of another fandom where everyone headcanoned a character is into 40s music ranging into the 50s and I'm pretty burnt out on The Most Popular 40s Jazz That Everybody And Their Grandma Knows so I still personally prefer to focus on the 50s for him lmao.

In fic he makes a reference to a band called Mysterious Mo's Average Joes; I imagine them as an in universe equivalent to Question Mark & the Mysterians, except more obscure.

Specific to my headcanoned music tastes of Bill from my fic rather than just Bill in general: coming in his tastes are all the same, but hanging around Mabel has given him an expanded palate for boy band music and kids music, although on the boy band front he prefers dance-y songs over ballad-y songs and on the kids music front he has to steer through a minefield of cheaply-produced 80s cartoons that use synthesized music to save cost on an orchestra.

So far, nothing else has happened to change his tastes.

Although eventually Robbie's introducing him to emo.

I listen to too much music for the question "what songs do you listen to," it's like asking "what words do you use" lmao, lemme look at my recent activity. Lately I've been getting into She Hates Emotion and the new albums by Zeal & Ardor and Fleshgod Apocalypse; I've been slacking in my metal education on learning the difference between black metal and death metal (I usually focus on symphonic metal & neighboring genres) so I'm looping back to the basics to learn more there; big fan of Saltatio Mortis's new album; I've been listening to the deeper cuts & newer material of mainstream early 00s alt rock & nu metal bands (Shinedown, Stone Sour, Staind) to see what I've been missing out on beyond their radio hits; and in general the past few months I've been trawling through playlists of classic 80s goth, dark wave, synth pop, & aggrotech to expand my library there. Very excited for the new Linkin Park lineup, love their new vocalist so far and it's heartening to see them releasing new material. Not so excited by the new Nightwish album, it has the nightwish sound but not the spark. This isn't even an accurate representation of my full musical tastes, I've just been really into metal recently. Current favorite bands of the last few years are Alt-J and Ghost. I listed some of my favorite albums on this post. It's too bad you can't just link your Spotify liked songs without sticking them all in a separate playlist—oh hold on I have a songs I can sing playlist, it's perpetually incomplete on top of being 3-4 years out of date but it's a starting point.

[charlott2n]

Thoughts on black metal? If you like it, are you familiar with Kekht Arakh?

its always been a scary genre for me but then i heard i want to be with you by sadness so my plan is sorta to get into it through blackgaze? but im listening to pale swordsman and im not really sure what im supposed to be holding on to but i guess i like the guitar tone? idk! its not bad though. ill have to listen to their other album too :)

[drdemonprince]

I sat on the floor surrounded by all these written words that evoked nothing but painful memories and past failures. I had always been so precious about anything written down, even holding onto papers I wrote in college and every letter anyone ever sent me. In the past it had pained me deeply when I would hear about a writer burning their drafts or a family member throwing away their letters and journals after they died—to me, it seemed that words were the mark of a life, the storehouse of memory, the only real memorial that mattered. It wasn’t that I felt I would someday be famous and researchers would want to cull through the written archive of my life; half a century in, I had no such grand illusions. Nor did I remotely imagine that my children would want someday to read through all these words. I didn’t even like reading them myself. Like photographs, written scraps of the past spark in me a painful sort of nostalgia, full of an anxious feeling of loss. Even the most pleasant memories captured in a snapshot or a postcard become a reminder of everything I don’t remember, a taunt of every moment not held and lived fully, now gone forever. I have photo albums full of pictures of my children’s early years that I never look at, not because they aren’t precious to me, but because they are so very precious to me. Casting an eye back only drives home how ephemeral it all was. And is. And yet, I had collected all these words—words I was sure no one would ever read, words filling notebooks and boxes and accordian files—like a cold-case storage locker full of the evidence of a life still waiting to be solved.

Here in black and white was a grotesque horror-show version of “this is your life.” I had convinced myself that my late-blooming creative life was new, that I had only discovered myself as a writer in my 40’s once my children were both in school. I had told myself that the growing despair in my marriage was a function of the startling discovery that I might be more than pure intellect, that I might in fact have a deep, visceral, erotic well of creativity yearning to bubble out of me. That I might—dare I claim it?—be a writer. I had convinced myself that was all new, like a mystical vision first revealed to me in my 40’s, a calling that I had to leave my marriage in order to pursue. But the words I now read in these journals and letters were from a much earlier time.  They were from the very beginning. A journal entry on the first anniversary of my relationship: “Why can’t I inspire any passion in [my ex-wife]?” It was 1988 and I was 22. 

Plaintive scribbles scrawled across notebook pages: “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Why can’t I be normal?”  Words cascading down and across the page with no regard for the college rule of the notebook, a mind-map exercise I might have taught to my high school English students in my early 20’s: worthless, unlovable, UNDESIRABLE, FREAK.

And worse: pages spilling over with my dreams of being a writer—pages dated from my 20’s, not my 40’s—full of all the ideas and the passion I had inside of me that I yearned to put into words and send into the world.  I had been yearning for and failing at writing for decades. For my entire adult life.  And now that I had finally gotten myself free, it seemed the trauma of leaving had crushed me. Stolen my words. Maybe it was too late, I would never get my shit together. 

My friend M. Rose is such a wonderful writer, and I love this piece a lot!!

[minkieater]

carousel – choi san ☄. *. ⋆

p. choi san x fem!reader g. non idol au, college boy!san w. smut minors dni PLS, alcohol consumption, smut is kinda kinky, toxic relationship, uhh san rocks you suck an. hello please don't be mad at me this had to happen for the lore, i also had to name you, apologies, if you share a name with shawty then congrats! if you've read luck you'll see some familiar stuff here, feel free to let me know anything you pick up on heheheh but seriously pls don't be mad at me wc. 10.7k

♫ – tear you apart, she wants revenge “it's only just a crush, it'll go away, it's just like all the others it'll go away or maybe this is danger and he just don't know”

cycle (sī-kel) noun a course or series of events or operations that recur regularly and usually lead back to the starting point

choi san regularly bounced between two moods. 

the first being a state of contentment, the second being complete and utter destruction. when he was content, the two of you were usually on good terms, and he felt good enough that he could keep his life on track. he could get his work done, he could go to classes, he could socialize with his peers with a smile on his face. 

when that peace was disturbed, more often than not by you, he was an absolute train wreck. all he could think about was you you you and when the two of you would fix things, if the two of you were really done this time, if he could reconcile the situation. sitting in class, remembering choreography at practice, being behind the bar at work… he couldn’t do a damn thing right. it wouldn’t be surprising if he forgot his own name when you were on bad terms. 

san has never been a fighter. when arguments arise he’s usually never the one that starts them, he’s the one begging to end them, opting for a peaceful compromise instead. despite the way he looks, san is a softie, something that took you by surprise and kept you by his side for almost a year.

you know him. you know his favorite color, his favorite show, his favorite album, his parents’ names, where he grew up, why he’s in school, who’s putting him through school, his biggest fear, his dream in life. you see how he looks at you, how he drops everything for you in a second, how he talks about you when you aren’t around to defend yourself. you know him better than you know yourself sometimes — you’ve been two peas in a pod since the beginning of your sophomore year, but yet the same question remains. one he’s asked you hundreds of times, one you could never find an answer to without breaking his heart. 

so instead you pick fights, argue to your heart’s content, damn near terrorize him on the regular just for the same fact to be true: choi san also knows everything about you. 

he knows exactly why you aren’t together, why you beat around the bush every time he asks you that same question, the sole reason why you freak the fuck out every time he asks you to give him just a little bit more. choi san knows very well that his love is unrequited, and he understands even the things you won’t tell him. he knows who you really love, he knows you’ve loved him since the summer before your freshman year, when you met at that concert. he notices when your eyes are the brightest, who you’re looking at when he wished you were looking at him, when you laugh the loudest. he notices everything.

if he’s anything, it’s observant. he’s been hanging out with you and your friends since way before he was your little secret, he’s been on your friends’ rooftop for parties more times than he can count. the first time the two of you slept together he couldn’t believe it was actually happening, the second you looked at him with lowered eyes and glossy lips he thought his eyes had been deceiving him for months prior. you looked at him like he was your last meal, your prey that you caught with your bare hands, you needed to have him or you’d die of starvation. he let you take the reins, took it all in with open arms, he wasn’t going to question a thing. for how long you had been obsessed with chan, he’d been obsessed with you. 

you’d met early in your freshman year, when chan had first gotten his apartment shared with three others, when they first started throwing their legendary parties that had been the talk of campus for ages to follow. san had gotten the invite through wooyoung, his best friend, whose close friend has dated chan’s roommate since freshman year. the moment he first saw you was nothing short of a movie scene, you were on the dance floor, definitely one too many drinks deep. you were dancing with felix, holding his hand, twirling your hair as he spun you in a circle. your smile, your eyes that were shut so delicately, your body that moved with such a fluidity, you were the embodiment of freedom. you looked like you couldn’t care less about anything, like the moon went down and the sun came up just so you could breathe another day. the world revolved around you. it was like everything he had ever done in his life leading up to this moment, each decision he made was to get him on this rooftop at this moment in the middle of soho. 

san had a few drinks himself and found himself on the dance floor right beside you. minho was with him, a close friend from his dance class, and then felix beside you. he couldn’t help but steal you for himself. he brought out the dancer inside of him but still followed your lead, spun you himself just as felix had, let your backside dance across his front one too many times for comfort. you picked up on how he was holding back, letting himself match you instead of taking the lead, and you couldn’t ignore how it sparked your interest. anyone besides felix that wasn’t in your group of close friends would be mindlessly grinding against you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, but not him. 

for a moment you let yourself think the bar is deep in hell, then you introduced yourself (more like screamed your name at him) over the pounding music that could be heard two blocks down. the first thing you noticed were his broad shoulders before you took in the rest of his clearly strong build. complex, fox-like eyes that held too much power in them and a sweet smile that contrasted his hard demeanor, it all vexed you, but intrigued you so much more. 

out of everything, his hands give you the most whiplash. where they were long and limber they felt soft and warm, even the calluses on his palms somehow felt softer than every man you’ve ever come in contact with. compared to his chest which felt hard and strong, the contradicting features forced your mind straight in the gutter. there’s no doubt he’s beautiful, anyone could see that from first glance, but in that deep, hypnotizing voice he has, you could hear what kept itself hidden. it was a facade, that build and sexy voice, you could tell just from a few words that he’s not what he appears to be. 

at first glance you’d assume he was just like any typical guy, buff and egotistical and harsh. but looking for a moment in those eyes, listening to that soft voice, you could hear what he wasn’t saying, like his thoughts were being displayed for you on a silver platter. they enticed you to dig deeper, peel him open layer by layer, find out what no one else knows. beyond warm hands and a sturdy build, there was a softness to him that wasn’t inside of any other man on that rooftop. except one other. 

by the end of the night, minho had led san to the notorious smoking corner, where he’d come to learn the same people tend to gather and hangout towards the end of the night. thankfully, one of those people was you, and the rest of your little group of friends that he’d later come more than acquainted with. none of you really smoke, which was the weird part, the smokers would come and go around your seating area, but it was still named the smoking corner despite it. 

“you said your name was san, right?” you asked, an inviting smile on your face as he sat down right next to you on one of the cushioned chairs. it happened to be the only one open and had him thanking a god he didn’t believe in for the small favor. 

he nodded quickly, tight lipped smile on his face, dimples on display. even with the liquor he was nervous, he wasn’t one to spark up conversation, especially at a party like this. “you’re a dancer?”

“how’d you know?” your smile somehow got bigger, eyes widening with surprise, “i’ve danced my whole life.”

he shrugs, “one dancer to another.”

“you go to NYU?” you asked, turning your body to face him in your own chair.

“dance program, i’m in the same hip hop class as minho,” he pointed to minho who was standing somewhere to the side of the two of you. 

“ah,” you nod with a smile, “that makes sense, i’m in the theater program, i originally wanted to be in the dance program, though.”

“hey guys,” the two of you looked up at the same time, another pair of broad shoulders, massive biceps, and a beautiful smile staring straight at you. you could feel your heart rate pick up, your breath get caught in your throat, a heat cascading over you like the rooftop had suddenly raised fifteen degrees. 

san could feel his smile leave his face as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. the way your eyes lit up, the pink that raised to your cheeks, how you slightly stumbled over your words when you first spoke to him, he tried not to let his expression drop to a scowl. he knows you like him, maybe even love him, he couldn’t decide from the short interaction between the three of you. not that he wanted to know, anyways. 

san decided then and there that chan was his enemy, a one sided war he was willing to put up the good fight for. from a quick dance and a conversation, he had decided you were worth the fight, you were worth the long game, you were worth whatever it took to get you. he thinks it shouldn’t be too hard to win you over, with some effort and consistency, he should be the one you look at the way he desperately wants you to in no time. he knew he was good looking, he sees how women fawn over him left and right at parties, only sometimes letting them get any further then silly attempts to take him home. that ping of jealousy only jumpstarts his motivation, begs him to tap into whatever is making these women throw themselves at him.  

five parties and three months later, you made him feel like he was in the lead. small conversations here and there, longer dances that with each party turned more and more scandalous, once or twice you clearly felt him behind you on the dance floor and you didn’t pull away, you kept going until you made it so evident he couldn’t hide it in his jeans. moments of hands brushing and stolen glances across the smoking corner, he waited long enough, but he’d wait however long it took for you.

the night when you gave him that look that he knew meant you were taking him home, he couldn’t contain his excitement, he couldn’t hide anything from you already. you could see it all over his face, he could tell from the smirk you wore on your own lips and the cocky laugh you let out. you were playing with fire, and his specialty was water.

you knew he wanted you from the first time you met. whether he knew it about himself or not, despite his easygoing words and soft hands, you knew there was a side to him you desperately needed to unveil, you needed to experience, you needed to know like the back of your hand. it felt like tainting his innocence the more you got to know him, his personality reflected the opposite of what he portrayed on the outside. from that hard, chiseled look he has to the soft, tender persona, you wanted to tear him apart. you wanted to know what made him tick, what pissed him off, what got under his skin, how he acted when it did. 

you had him exactly where you wanted him, and he was letting it happen, fully aware of the attraction that was finally being returned. you looked at him differently that night, and unbeknownst to him, it was deliberate.

chan was out of sight, off with some dark haired girl he met hours prior. you watched the scene unfold in front of you, from when they exchanged names and phone numbers down to the moment when chan took her hand and led her inside his apartment. you watched them over heads through the dance floor, keeping your vision focused on the two of them like some fucked up form of tunnel vision. like what they say about trainwrecks, you should look away, but for some reason you can’t. your skin was burning, you were beyond angry, feeling an emotion that laid somewhere outside of what you’d ever experienced toward him. betrayal? abandonment? treachery?

none of your feelings were valid, chan had no idea how you felt, you never told him. he was more than allowed to take whatever dark haired bitch he wanted into his own damn apartment that seungmin’s dad pays for, that’s more than permissible. you have an apartment too, one that you and your roommate pay for yourselves, one that you could also take someone back to. your life didn’t revolve around him, his actions would not determine how your night would go, despite the feelings you have for him.

that’s when choi san caught your eye, across the crowd with his gorgeous face and incredible body. you felt the light bulb flash above your head, you knew exactly what would take the edge off, what would mend the heart chan had just broken in two. 

“you know, we always hangout here, but we never see each other outside of these parties,” you flipped your hair over your shoulder, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“never thought you wanted to,” he shrugs, lowered eyes watching your every move like he was waiting for the switch to flip.

“and why wouldn’t i want to? have you looked in a mirror recently?” it felt lame when it left your mouth, he didn’t seem to agree as a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. he turned away from you, a low chuckle leaving his lips.

“every morning at the gym, gotta make sure my form is right,” his shy smile turned into a faint smirk, and your own grows, hints of mischief creeping at the corners. you knew exactly what he was doing, mentioning the gym. like a moth to a flame, your eyes glazed over his biceps, which he flexed the moment your eyes left his. 

“every morning? very disciplined, aren’t you?” you ask, smile turning lopsided and nothing short of flirty. 

“very,” he nodded his head, “you should come with me sometime, get you some discipline, too.”

“and what about me makes you think i’m not disciplined?” your eyebrows furrow, tilting your head.

with that question his smile grows, dimples showing themselves once more. “brats always need discipline, and that’s exactly what you are. a little tease.”

your smile displays all of your teeth, exactly the answer you were hoping for. the side you knew he had in him, that version of him not many get to see, excitement flooded through you like a tidal wave. you were on a power trip, your plan worked with ease, you wanted to pat yourself on the back. 

“do something about it,” you sipped your drink through your tiny straw, staring at him through your lashes once again. 

within thirty minutes you were back at your place in manhattan, your roommate still at the party, you didn’t even let her know you left. in that one conversation you’d forgotten all about chan, the girl with the dark hair, and why you were in this situation in the first place. all you could think about was san, with his dark chocolate eyes and honeyed skin and arms strong enough to flip you around. you were overflowing with adrenaline, excitement, and greed. you wanted all of him, needed all of him, a need that has been lying dormant for months. you’d been curious about him, wanted to know what he kept hidden inside, too focused on chan to dig deeper into him.

san couldn’t fucking believe it. couldn’t believe he was in your bed, your walls that were covered in posters of rock bands and singers from the 80s, some faces he’s seen before and plenty of others he hasn’t. records cover one wall, soundtracks from different musicals, little trinkets filling every inch of open space on your bookshelves. your room was so undeniably you, from the smell to the color scheme, he took every inch of it and burned it to memory. he tried not to stare too much in his learning, telling himself to focus on you instead, he’d he back, this isn’t a one time thing. he couldn’t be more right. 

the moment his lips touched yours he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without tasting you. a kiss so sweet, so rushed, so hungry, he’d never felt anything like it. he knew you'd wreck him, become too important to him, become a valued person in his life, for a moment he thought maybe he should stop – this was all too good to be true. 

when you whimpered in his mouth after a light grind to his crotch, he took all of his thoughts back. there was no stopping this, no hands could pry him off of you, he needed to see every bit of you. he needed to kiss every inch of your skin, inhale the scent of your sweat, he yearned to worship you. he wanted all of you, he needed to rein himself in, not get too excited so he could last. 

you fought for dominance on his lap, tongues in a rushed wrestle, strong thighs wrapped around his hips. as those soft hands of his squeezed the fat of your ass, you let out a yelp, grinding yourself into him. you wanted to hear any kind of noise, any harsh breath he might release. you wanted control, he didn’t want to give it up, at least not without a fight.

he scooped your waist with one arm, flipping you over, pressing you flat against the mattress. you mustered out a hushed fuck as the realization finally hit you: his biceps aren’t just for aesthetics, the sheer strength of one is enough to throw you around, and it’s strength he will use to his advantage. 

“as much as i want to be thrown around,” you broke the kiss for a moment, “save it for the next time.”

you wrapped your legs around his waist and lunged yourself forward with your hands, hips on top of his once more, your bodies sitting upright. as much as you wanted to revel in the gain of dominance, you knew he just willingly allowed you to do that, he could’ve stopped you with ease if he wanted to.

“see what i mean? brat,” he broke the kiss again with a huff, a smirk painting his own lips for a moment before returning them to yours. 

your right hand moved up to grip his throat, pushing him an inch away from you. on his lap you were taller, staring down at him, he looked up at you with a spark in his eyes you haven't seen yet. his eyebrows furrowed, not in confusion or hurt, but want. need. he liked this, he wanted this, and you couldn’t help the wicked smile that touched every feature on your face. 

“watch your mouth,” you tilted your chin up, looking down at him at a harsher angle, the act itself a display of dominance. in combination with the harsh tone to your words, he nearly quivered in your grasp. a strangled groan left his lips as your grip tightened for a moment, blocking his airway, before releasing him completely. you reached for the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head with ease. 

“look at you, so fucking sexy,” you said as the cotton hit the floor, examining his exposed upper half in awe. chiseled abs, even sitting down, and a chest you’re sure could knock you out if it came in contact with your head. he was beautiful, perfect even, not an inch of him unsculpted. 

his breath turned heavy under your stare, eyes lowering into a different version of himself, a submission of sorts. he had no fight left in them, he gave up control, let you take it, and you were going to run with it. 

you brought your lips to his jaw, kissing down his neck, hands running over every inch of bare skin. he tugged at your top at the same time, tugging it over your head, unclasping your bra with just one hand. 

“done that before?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a playful smile, and he chuckled. 

“once or twice,” his reply was mindless as you fumbled with his belt buckle beneath you, slipping it out of the loops, throwing it to the floor. 

“hungry?” you asked and his eyes quickly met yours, confusion crossing them before realization set in. you didn’t wait for an answer as you pushed him back on the bed with your index finger to his chest, not having to muster up any force at all. 

you quickly sat up and slipped off your jeans and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him. he leaned up on his elbows for just a moment before you crawled back on top of him, further up his body until you sat right over his face. 

“no touching unless i tell you to,” your voice was stern, he nodded in understanding and you took that as the green light to plant yourself on his awaiting face. 

you moaned the moment his tongue came in contact with your soaked center, lapping up everything you had to offer. you stilled for a moment, letting him work himself on you, his tongue gliding through your wetness. 

“fuck, sannie, so fucking good,” you moaned out, a hand reaching down to tug at his styled black hair. he groaned in response, hands lifting off of the bed, but they didn’t touch you, didn’t even come close. 

you started riding his face and he stuck his tongue out in response to your movements, letting you have your way with him, grinding back and forth to use him for your own release. if you weren’t gone in your own pleasure you would’ve smiled at the eagerness, the willingness to please you. 

“fingers, please baby,” you gasped out, babbling your words, “need you to make me cum. you wanna make me cum, don’t you? all over your face?” 

his right hand came between your legs to slip two fingers inside of you, mouth moving up to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves. he curved his fingers toward himself immediately, hitting that one spot inside of you that made you see stars, you started babbling and whining praise like you’d been doing this together for years. 

“so fucking good sannie, fuck,” you cried out, grinding yourself against him, the knot in your stomach tightening with every harsh suck to your clit. he brought his other hand up to smack your ass and you moaned out, the dam bursting, your release coating his fingers, past his knuckles. you rode out your high, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to get you through it before overstimulation set in. 

“mm, taste so fucking good baby, could eat you all night,” he announced the second you lifted yourself off of him, his voice octaves lower than earlier. you watched as he licked his lips so erotically, the action making you want to sit yourself back on his face and ride him until he couldn’t breathe. 

you sat next to him on the bed after climbing off of him instead, your orgasm took the need for control right out of you, you had your fill. you wanted to be taken care of, filled up, you didn’t want to think about anything other than your own pleasure. always observant san picked up in your change of energy, letting his own switch to another before continuing. 

“need to be inside you,” he said as he sat up, taking his jeans and boxers off in one go, “you have a condom?” 

you shimmied yourself down the bed, head hitting the pillow before you shook it, “‘m on the pill.” 

“dirty girl, where did that energy from earlier go? hm?” that dangerous smirk returned to his face, his dominance returning in just one sentence, “did i eat it all out of you? wanna be a good girl for me now?” 

he leaned himself over you, strong arms beside your head caging you in. you lifted your knees up to your elbows, spreading yourself for him.

“shut up,” you mumbled, feeling the tinge of embarrassment, “fuck me already.” 

“that wasn’t very polite, thought you were ready to behave,” he shook his head, “only girls with manners get fucked. should i put my pants back on, go back home?” 

“no! no, don’t go,” your arms came up to grab onto his, your eyes widening, “i’m sorry, i’ll be good. please, san, i need you.” 

a wicked smile crossed his face before he leaned down to plant a kiss on your own, “good, i hoped so. breathe for me, okay?”

you glanced down between your legs, realizing you hadn’t even seen him. you nearly gasped at the size of him, eyes widening, his length was perfect but the girth of him was more than intimidating. he spit into his hand, stroking himself, lubing himself up to slide into you easier. you nearly drooled at the sight, mouth agape, pussy clenching around nothing.

the whole act felt so sinful, so carnal, you so easily opened up to him with a side of yourself you don’t show until you’re fully comfortable. you blame your adrenaline, your hormones, how horny you were when you arrived, ignoring the real fact of how comfortable he made you feel to show so much of yourself to him. 

as he lined himself up you couldn’t ignore how it all felt right, you’ve had undeniable attraction to him for months now, but this… this was something entirely different. this was a beginning, the prologue chapter of a novel, the first episode to seasons spent with him. when he pushed himself into you and you had to physically remind yourself to breathe, you had to acknowledge that he fit so perfectly with you, his body felt like it was meant to be above yours. these weren’t feelings of a quick fuck, feelings from a one night stand, this was raw, intimate, unique. special. 

“so fucking big,” you huffed out, voice strained, eyes squeezed shut, fingers clawing at his biceps. 

“breathe, baby, you got it,” he praised you, encouraged you, and it did what it needed to. you breathed in and out, let him sheathe himself inside of you. as he bottomed out he groaned, a beautiful noise, one that could lure you to sleep if you heard it enough. he stayed there for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch, letting you relax around him. 

“so fuckin’ tight, baby, breathe,” he instructed, leaning down on his elbows to kiss you, distract you, take your mind off of the stretch. you tried your best to relax your muscles, unclench yourself from around him. 

“there you go,” his praises were a sweet song, easing you out of discomfort, “tell me when i can move.” 

you waited a few moments, returning your lips to his before grinding yourself against him. you felt your slick coating him, helping you glide up and down, and he let you for a moment — just a moment before he knew for sure you were comfortable. 

he pulled all the way out before bottoming out once more, and you yelped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to let your head lean back into the pillow.

“there it is, there we fucking go,” he mumbled as he started on a rhythm, “good fucking girl.” 

a string of moans left your lips, your hands still clawing at his biceps, body reacting to him without your brain allowing it. “so fucking good sannie.”

“thought you were so fucking badass earlier, huh? ordering me around like i’m your bitch?” that smirk returned to his lips again and all you could do was moan, staring at him through half lidded eyes, “look at you now, baby. all lifeless and limp, all for this dick?” 

“yes, san, all for you. just for you,” you mumble, words jumbling together, not knowing if your words even sounded clear. 

“yeah, baby, just as i thought, all for me,” he pistols himself into you, grabbing your hips, making you meet his thrusts. you were losing your strength, letting him have his way with you, just an incoherent mess beneath him. 

he reaches forward and grabs your jaw, “don’t go anywhere, eyes on me.”

you look up to him, eyes wide, that fuzzy space you were slipping into locked away for now, “you can go there eventually, not yet, not this time.” 

your eyes started to roll back as he shifted his hips upward, the mushroom tip of him rolling against that one spot so deliciously. with how quickly that knot formed once more in your stomach, you were surprised that drool wasn’t slipping down your chin. 

“right there, please don’t stop, gonna make me cum,” you can’t even hear yourself, so drunk on his dick, his assertiveness, you loved it. you’d never had your energy matched like this, never had a fuck like this, never had someone know you so quickly and easily. 

“hold it,” he ordered, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. how could he expect you to hold it, when he was hitting that spot too perfectly, doing everything in his power to get you there?

“i swear, do not fucking cum,” he smacked your hip and tears formed in your eyes trying to hold it, fighting every nerve in your body to not release around him. 

“i can’t! i can’t,” you babble, tears falling down your cheeks, and he released a long fuck, his voice dropping even lower. 

“cum for me, want you to cum around me, please,” his orders turned to begs quickly after he saw your tears. he leaned forward to wipe them off your face, bringing his fingers up to his lips. the string snapped and you gushed around him, legs shaking, a loud cry leaving your lips, probably heard in queens from the sheer volume of it. 

“where do you want me?” he quickly asked, his own words sounding shaky, slurring together. 

“inside, inside,” you begged, reaching up to cup his cheeks. he leaned down to kiss you as he released himself inside you, filling you up, thrusts slowing as he worked himself through it. 

he stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, heavy breaths being poured into each other’s mouths. he sighed as his forearms began to shake, finally pulling out of you, laying next to you.

“you okay?” he turned his head at the same time as you turned yours, eyes sharing too much of something yet saying nothing of it.

“‘m great, you?” you cracked a smile, the both of you still somewhere that wasn’t here, slowly coming back from two completely different headspaces. he nodded, returning the smile, and the two of you laid there for what felt like ages. 

sleeping with san was something outside of anything you’ve ever done. you’d slept with plenty of people, had plenty of experiences, explored what you liked and didn’t through many trials and errors. to have such an incredible first experience with someone, to have it flow so easily, to match each other so perfectly… it was almost unbelievable, it set unrealistic expectations for anyone you’d ever sleep with again. 

you needed him that night, needed that experience, needed whatever was going to distract you from whatever the hell chan was doing – and it worked. you needed that distraction for months to follow as chan continued to see the dark haired girl, who’s name you came to find out was eden, always hanging around on the rooftop, following him wherever he went. like a roach, never wanted, yet never went away. 

months you spent cooped up in your room, anger flowing through your blood as you watched his instagram stories, cute pictures of her posted every day. posed pictures together in times square, clubs on the weekends, clips of them getting drinks together on a random weekday afternoon. you couldn’t help but pick everything apart – what they were doing was touristy, corny, nothing you would do with him, nothing you would enjoy. you knew chan didn’t enjoy any of that, either. 

every time you pictured dates with him or fantasized about any time spent with him alone was always private, intimate, enriching – you’d be painting together, drinking wine in your living room as you played your favorite board game, watching a tv show from start to finish together. you were in the same major, maybe even studying together, bouncing ideas off of one another for assignments or projects, but nothing so flashy. chan hates time square, hates drinking in the middle of the day, and especially hates clubs unless there was a special occasion. you knew all of these things, you knew him, you felt the same way as him. yet he was still doing all of those things with her, playing in her garden, wasting his time when he should be focused on school, his career, his future, you.

in those months there was only one thing that could make you forget about chan, forget about eden, forget about the situation altogether. during class you were frustrated, in auditions, rehearsals, you couldn’t even study without the tv on and music playing simultaneously. if you had a singular moment of silence your brain took you back to him, took you back to what you could’ve had, what you never tried for in the first place. it was debilitating not being able to get anything done, being so one track minded, the only thing that could make you focus was san. you’d text him daily, always asking him to come over, always ending the night between his thighs. 

he always came, he always said yes, he never once said no to you. he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t make you explain your frustrations, only listened when you did speak about trivial things like school or rehearsal. you didn’t want his opinion, didn’t want his advice, only his company and the pleasure he never had any difficulty in giving you. it was perfect for those months, in your own world, the sanctuary you created in your bedroom with choi san. 

the moment when your relationship changed, you didn’t notice. there was no light bulb, no moment where you consciously started looking at him differently, yet it changed without your knowing or consent. you didn’t acknowledge it when you did notice, you didn’t want to, your heart was saved for another. yet you still talked about everything together, did all of those little things you dreamed of doing with chan. your fears, your dreams, your childhood, your favorite things, you began to know him so intimately without being aware of it. you watched grey’s anatomy with him, you played video games, you drew funky little doodles of each other on your notebooks. 

you started to crave him when he wasn’t around, and not just because he was your distraction, but a friend. he was good for you, he encouraged you to be consistent with school, you practiced lines with him, sang duets from different musicals with him. your relationship was raw, it was truth, it was naked, it was everything you wished for, it was everything you needed at that time. 

san fell for you. he fell so fucking hard, so headfirst, it was a bottomless pit with no end in sight and he couldn’t stop himself from digging further. everything he saw in you that first night was still there, only amplified into something he couldn’t hide anymore. he was at your beck and call, anything you needed, any time of day. he knew why you were so attached to him, he figured it out the second he went to the rooftop with wooyoung again, high off of his night spent with you, ready to see you again. when you were nowhere to be seen and he caught chan with his arm around the girl from his contemporary class, he put the pieces together quick. he knew you must be heartbroken, knew you needed support, a friend who knew nothing about the situation. it quickly made him realize his place in your relationship. 

he fought through the horrific realization with optimism, the returning thought that with time you’d see, you’d realize he was better for you than chan could ever be. as he spent more time with you and got to know you better, it only made his feelings deepen. your laugh, your thoughts, your competitive side, the way you’re so quick to fight back and assert your dominance, but give it up even faster… it was like an addiction, it wasn’t good for him, he knew it wasn’t, he knew it when his grades first started to slip. when he wasn’t on point at practice, too sleep deprived to remember choreography. minho read it all over him, knew something was wrong, knew san had gotten into something he shouldn’t have. 

“what’s up with you, man? this isn’t like you,” it was a rough practice that day. san was sat on the floor with his knees hugged tight to his chest, rubbing his eyes to force the exhaustion out of them. 

“just an off day,” is all san mumbled before he stood up slowly, grabbing his bag to sling over his shoulder.

“off day? you’ve been fucking up for the past week, san, you’re center,” minho put his hand on san’s shoulder, stopping him before he walked away, “they’re gonna put someone else there if you don’t get your shit together.”

“i get it, minho,” san turned his back, and minho’s grip only got tighter.

“what the hell is going on?” he asked, turning san to face him, “you can talk to me, we’re friends, you know.”

san’s hand returned to his face, trying to rub off his discomfort, this feeling that he should keep everything to himself, “it’s a lot.”

“is it a girl?” minho was quick with the question, eyes lowered, seeming to read san before he could get any words out. he started to walk, keeping his hand on san’s shoulder, encouraging him to walk alongside him. 

san answered with a coy nod, the answer seeming too taboo to say out loud. minho was a direct link to chan, he should be happy to talk about the fact that you were sleeping together. what he couldn’t shake off was the fear that you’d be angry at him for telling anyone. 

“did you get her pregnant or something?” humor was laced in minho’s tone, trying to ease up the straightforwardness of the question, but he was genuinely worried by how san had been acting.

san gasped, “preg- no! god, no,” he shook his head, “i hope not.”

minho laughed, “that doesn’t sound convincing. if she’s not pregnant then there’s no reason to be so torn up, why are you?”

they walked out of the building into the wet humidity of the city air, “like i said, it’s a lot. it’s my fault, though.”

“quit beating around the bush and tell me,” minho stood still, staring at san expectantly, “you can trust me.”

“if i’m going to tell you, i need a beer.”

an hour later they were seated at prince, not a popular dive bar in the city, but popular amongst your group of friends and whoever they introduced to it. san nursed his beer, barely getting two sips in before he was spilling everything about the last six months to one of his best friends. 

“i can’t wrap my head around why you keep fucking her if she loves another guy,” minho shrugs, “especially chan, at that. she’s been close with him since he moved to the city.”

“it’s not about fucking her,” san sighed, “i’m in too deep, i think i love her. even if i didn’t, and it was just about sex, it’s too good to stop.”

minho’s jaw physically drops, mouth hanging agape for a moment before he snaps it shut, straightening his left hand to start counting on his fingers, “so you love her, she doesn't know you love her, she loves someone else who’s in a relationship, and you spend every free moment with her. and you have so much sex you don’t sleep.”

san’s lips pull into a tight line, giving minho one long nod in response.

“there’s no way she doesn’t love you back if you’ve spent that much time together in six months, i can’t believe you kept all of this shit hidden for so long. you need to talk shit out, man.”

it was music to his ears, san’s entire body filled with a joy he’d never felt before when no way she doesn’t love you back left minho’s lips. he felt like he was putting a puzzle together in his brain, that actually made perfect sense, how could you not return anything he felt for you? you also experienced all your time together, got just as close to him as he did you. 

he barely gave minho another half hour before he was barreling out of prince and on his way to your apartment. 

“hey baby, how was practi-”

“i need to ask you a question.”

your head whipped to your front door, never hearing san sound so desperate outside of the bedroom. his eyes were blown, his eyebrows raised, fully out of breath from running up the flights of steps to your apartment. your blood ran cold, you knew this question was coming eventually, you were savoring every moment he didn't ask it. you stood slowly, facing him from the couch, eyes expectant.

“i’ll give you an answer,” you replied casually, keeping your voice steady. 

“do you want to be with me?” his words felt empty, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say them, yet he still sounded like he’d been dying to ask the question for months. he didn’t blink, kept his shoulders back, dance bag dangling from his fingertips.

“san,” you said calmly, taking a step towards him. 

“i don’t want to freak you out, please don’t freak out, it’s just been six months and i really enjoy you and your company and i love being around you, i love spending nights with you, the sex is incredible, everything just seems right,” a smile graces his lips with a pause. when you stared back at him in disbelief he panicked, his heart in his throat, “i’m sorry if i freaked you out, this is too much, isn’t it?” 

you took a breath, closing your eyes for a moment. the day you’d been dreading had come – the end of a perfect half year. 

“i can’t be in a relationship right now,” you blurt the first thing that came to mind, and his face dropped immediately. “i enjoy you, i love our time spent together, i love that you’re around all the time, you’ve been a huge help to me these past six months. i couldn’t of done it without you.”

you’ve been told these words before, you’ve been in his position before, you’re spouting the same venom that’s been thrown at you. you felt  as if you were shoved in a corner, not fully believing your own words, but you needed an excuse more than you wanted to say the truth. 

a sad smile crosses his face, “i get it.”

“i don’t want to stop whatever this is,” you walk closer to him, grabbing his hand, “and it could grow into something really great. i’m just not in a position to open my heart to anyone right now.” 

“i know, baby. the last six months have been rough on you,” his heart melted, even if he knew the reason why, he also knew that it really did hurt you. you needed time to heal, time to focus on yourself, time to get back into the dating scene. he’d be there, first in line when you were ready. 

“i knew you’d understand, thank you,” you stood on your toes, attaching your lips to his. ten minutes later you were on your knees, right back to normal like that conversation didn’t even happen. 

in just two weeks you’d started going out more regularly again, meeting your friends at prince, going to chan’s rooftop whenever felix told you to come. your friends that noticed, despite you keeping your appearances up, asked where you’d been, why you’re back, and you gave them the sophomore year bullshit of classes were hard and summer is here again! at your age, parties were a dime a dozen, you had plenty of excuses to be out of the house and away from your issues, stopping reality from hitting you that you were playing with fire once again.

you did have feelings for san, even if it was your own fucked up version. there was no way you couldn’t with how much time you spent together, how much you know about him, how much you care for him. but the other problem that you will never forget is still there, staring at you from across his own rooftop. 

you care for san, but the love you feel for bang christopher chan is so much fucking more.

“hey! i feel like i haven’t seen you in ages!” his smile is huge as he crosses the crowd, clinking his drink with your own. you blushed, that was basically him saying i missed you. 

“same here, how’s everything been? happy classes are over?” you asked, gripping your drink a little tighter. 

“incredibly happy classes are over, even happier this terrible fucking year is over,” he chuckled, “me and eden broke up, i don’t know if you heard. she cheated on me with some columbia architect, whatever.”

broke up? he’s… single again?

your jaw dropped, and you fought to keep the excitement to a minimum, “no, i didn’t know, i’m so sorry, channie. fuck her and that architect!”

he laughed again, a belly laugh that made you want to jump his bones, “what about you, though? seeing anyone?”

his question took you by surprise, “i- uh, no, i’m not,” your giggle was nervous, wanting to change the subject immediately. san crossed your mind, a thought you quickly shut down.

“you’re never seeing anyone, dude, we have to set you up with somebody, can’t go through your whole college experience without a shitty boyfriend or two,” it was a joke, a bad one, but it still made heat rise to your whole upper half. why was he asking? he’s never asked about your love life before. 

“i’m good off a shitty boyfriend, i’d rather be alone if that’s the case,” you shake your head, then sip through your tiny straw. 

“suit yourself,” he palmed your shoulder with a hand that completely enveloped it, and you felt the skin underneath burn. 

you felt eyes boring into your head from behind you, and you quickly turned, scanning the area. you saw your roommate and her boyfriend in the smoking corner, minho and han, then san, who was leaning against the concrete of the wall separating the rooftop from the drop to the ground below. like a hawk, he watched you through lowered eyes, taking in every move. you quickly turned back around, expecting chan to still be there, but he was gone, probably off being a good host to his party. you wiped the chill off of you, finishing off your drink, dismissing the guilty feeling creeping up your spine because chan is single again. determination washes over you, this time you’d be hell bent upon telling him how you feel, finally getting your chance to be with him. it was your turn this time. 

san was beyond frustrated. watching you talk to chan after all of these months, even from afar, picking up your body language, he was sick to his stomach. the way you shifted from foot to foot, unconsciously leaned into his touch, flipped your hair behind your back to show off your décolletage, san could pick up on exactly what you were thinking and he hated it. 

san wasn’t in the lead, he was forever the number two, your favorite best kept hidden secret. he was sick of it, sick of being with you behind closed doors, sick of dropping everything for you, sick of being under your spell. he knew his place, knew it enough to where he didn’t even approach you on the rooftop. he knew there would be a call, a text, a fucking messenger pigeon that would get him in your bed tonight, he was sure of it. when chan went back inside the apartment for the night and didn’t have a soul beside him, he knew exactly how the outcome of the night would go, and he was excited for it. 

as san slammed your apartment door shut behind him, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, turning to furrow your eyebrows. the two of you ended up leaving together, an outcome that wasn’t on his list of possibilities – no messenger pigeon needed. he was surprised, he didn’t think you’d even want to be seen getting in the same car as him. 

“what was that for?” the slam startled you, it was unlike him, he was delicate with everything he did.

“i’m sick of this, ri,” he shook his head, standing by the entrance to your kitchen, not following you into the living room. your stomach dropped, you should’ve seen this coming.

“what do you mean?” you opted for obliviousness after a pause, unsure of how to go about this conversation again after your last one was just two weeks ago. 

“i’m sick of being your secret, whatever the hell i am to you,” he ran a hand through his hair, “actually, that’s a good question. what am i to you, riley?”

you gulped, your eyes widening, coming to yet another moment of silence. you didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know how to tell him what you didn’t know yourself. 

“you don’t know? or you know and can’t say it?” he understands your silence, using his hands as he speaks, “tell me the truth.”

“i don’t know, san, a friend?” your voice is unsure, small. you wanted to shrink yourself, wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation. this is the first time you’ve seen this side of him, you and san had never argued before, the last time you had this talk it didn’t have any anger or frustration. 

“a friend? i’m a friend?” he laughs, a sarcastic chuckle that you’ve never heard leave his lips. you must’ve gotten away with it two weeks ago, this was really the end, there was only one way this talk could go. “a friend that knows every inch of you, a friend that’s spent more time here the past six months than the apartment they still pay rent at? that’s a fucking joke, riley.”

tears gathered in your eyes, ones that you weren’t exactly sure why they were there, you felt caught. bombarded with a choice you didn’t want to make. he was finally understanding your web of lies, finally over it, over you. you weren’t ready to let him go, you wanted to continue to live in your bubble with him, you wanted him to stay. you didn’t let them fall.

“what do you want me to say?” you don’t have a rebuttal, you don’t have any sly words that could change the topic, even momentarily change what he’s feeling. you chose anger, deflection.

“i want more, ri. i want you, i’ve wanted you since i met you. there’s no way you don’t know that,” he sighs, turning around, running that same hand through his hair. 

“and i can’t give you more, san, so what do you want me to do? force myself into something i’m not ready for? i’ve told you my piece,” you walk towards him, standing just a few steps from him.

“no, riley, i don’t want you to force yourself into being with me, that’s ridiculous. when we’re in public you barely look at me, let alone speak to me. what are you so afraid of? why can’t anyone know about… this?” he turned around, his own eyes glossy, looking down at you through damp eyelashes. your blood ran cold, colder than it had been from the moment he slammed the door, that familiar guilty feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. 

“why do you need people to know? why do you need our relationship to be publicized? is being with me, here like this, not enough for you?” the laugh you let out was dry, calculated, “if it’s not enough then maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” 

a small gasp left his lips, barely audible it could’ve been just an intake of air, his visage twisted the moment you spoke those words. with his lips and eyebrows turned downward, that slight anger, frustration, morphed into a sadness you never wanted to see again. 

“that’s not what i want,” his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, a shy mumble, his gaze pointed downward at his fingers which played with his rings. “i don’t want to fight with you.” 

“i know, baby,” you stepped forward, placing a hand on his soft, reddened cheek, “i don’t want to fight with you, either. want you to be happy.” 

“i’m happy with you,” his voice cracked, a raw tone, as he glanced back up at you. his eyes red, glossed over, full of emotion, it broke your heart. you could never truly make him happy, you knew that, but you could momentarily.

“then let me take care of you,” and that you did, like you always did, the same way you did two weeks ago. you rode him to oblivion, until he forgot why he was upset in the first place, the same thing he did for you six months ago. 

a week later, you’d fought again. plenty of times.

almost every day for the whole week you started an argument over something so fucking stupid and you couldn’t stop. everything he did pissed you off, every time he tried to fix it, it pissed you off even more. you were overflowing with so many different emotions you couldn’t breathe, you needed space, you needed him, you needed chan. you were too overstimulated to think clearly, if you were ever thinking clearly to begin with.

the guilt from not returning his feelings, but not being at ease when he isn’t sleeping in your bed.. it didn’t make any sense. you felt insane, suffocated in the overwhelming feelings you couldn’t bring yourself to return. you liked san, you liked everything about him, but the fervent feelings he had towards you mirrored what you felt for chan. 

there was now nothing left unsaid. there was no unspoken deal between you anymore, no weapon left to use to let yourself get off without consequence. you were uncomfortable, uncomfortable with his feelings, uncomfortable with your own, you felt shoved in a corner you couldn’t walk away from. 

the only things that stayed consistent in that week were chan’s rooftop, chan’s living room, and his incessant need to talk to you every damn time you were there.  

san felt like he was losing his goddamn mind. 

he wished he could go back in time and take back everything he said, his confession, his feelings, he had ruined everything. you would go from not answering him to getting pissed off that he answered your text with ok instead of okay… it seemed like he couldn’t do anything right, in a constant state of fear that today would be the day you break it off with him for real. 

his day to day life was only getting worse. he was making cocktails wrong at work, not replacing ice, handing the wrong beer to patrons at the bar. he got replaced again in his spot for his dance class, reprimanded by his teacher, minho gave him not one but two additional talks about getting his shit together. 

he hadn’t seen you since the night you argued two weeks ago, he hasn’t even been going out for just a glimpse of you, he’s been playing catch up for what felt like weeks. to make matters worse, he was pent up, he’d been so used to a consistent sex life, he needed release. he needed a night to let go of you, all of the whiplash he’d endured for weeks now, he needed a night to just be himself. to forget.

he called wooyoung, his best friend who was always out in the city, always had plans. thankfully he was going to a club that night to celebrate your roommate’s recent internship acceptance. wooyoung assured him that you wouldn’t be there, it would only be a couple of your roommates' close friends. he didn’t ask why you wouldn’t be there, he tried to convince himself he didn’t care, he needed to start forgetting now.

he hopped out of bed and got ready fast, the clock already past eight, and headed over to meet the group before going to the club. they were all familiar faces from the rooftop, despite him only knowing wooyoung super intimately. all of the nights he spent at your apartment your roommate was usually at her boyfriend’s, and if she wasn’t, her and her boyfriend were cooped up in her bedroom.

but here he was, in a club he’s never heard of in the middle of manhattan celebrating her.

“have a drink, sannie, do something,” wooyoung slung his arm around san’s shoulder, bent behind the booth he was sitting at, “don’t just sit there and mope.”

san nodded, not having much to say if it didn’t have to do with you. he sipped his beer mindlessly, listening to everyone talking around him, their conversation had to be more entertaining then the jail he created for himself in his own mind. 

“...i’ve been trying to get them together for years! i’m so happy it’s finally happening!” your roommate says loud, drunkenly, talking to yunho’s girlfriend. 

“years?” yunho’s girlfriend asked, brushing her hair behind her ear, “why the hell did it take so long?”

“when they met they were all just good friends, then i was introduced and started dating jeongin pretty much immediately, i’m the one who noticed how she felt about him. she wouldn’t admit it for ages, until i finally got it out of her, and pretty much immediately after that chan started dating eden, you remember her, right?” san’s ears perked up at that, his stomach dropping immediately. he put the pieces together quicker than ki could run her mouth. the drinks from the pregame clearly made her filter pretty much nonexistent, this is a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be listening to, something he wasn’t supposed to hear. she didn’t notice the extra ear, but her boyfriend did.

“ki,” jeongin interrupted, eyes glancing back and forth between san and his girlfriend, talking over yunho’s girlfriend.

ki ignored him, too deep in her own conversation, “yes! like two weeks ago or something it finally clicked, they’ve been seeing each other since.” 

“who?” san interrupted, panic in his voice. 

he knew who, from the bottom of his heart. a little over two weeks ago was when san started the fight between the two of you, ever since then you’d been off. he hasn’t seen you. he knows damn well who.

ki’s eyes were wide, her jaw agape, and jeongin’s hand went to his forehead. 

“san, i-”

“who are you talking about, ki?” san sat a little straighter, his chin jutting out, “who’s been seeing chan for the past two weeks?”

“i think you already know who, san, i didn’t realize you didn’t know?” ki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her hand holding her drink a little bit tighter. yunho’s girlfriend looked between san and ki, also confused, too nervous to ask any questions. the tension was thick in the air, too heavy for a night of celebration. san could feel the control he had over himself lessening by the second. 

san laughs, a dark chuckle, and something inside of him shifts. he’s done, he’s so fucking done. he feels stupid, it’s always been chan from the start, it’s always going to be chan. he tried telling himself months ago that you would see he was better for you than chan ever could be, but he was clearly so fucking wrong. chan would always be your endgame, it would never be him, no matter what he did for you. no matter how much he tried for you. no matter how much he begged for you.

everything he’s been feeling for the past two weeks, the confusing feelings, the constant begging just to see you, the amount of apologies he’d given to someone who didn’t fucking deserve them. how many times had you texted him when you were next to chan? how many times had you ignored him because you were next to chan?

san doesn’t get angry, san isn’t a fighter. san’s always been a peacekeeper, a problem solver, water to put out the fire. 

he is so fucking over it.

he thought about his grades, how long it’d taken him to bring them back up. his rehearsals, his performances, the center positions that had been taken away from him. how many bottles of beer he’d thrown away at work from constant fuck ups. how many times he’s gotten grilled from more people than he can count on his hands. 

he ignored ki, instead he looked into the crowd, suddenly remembering exactly where he was. he reached forward and grabbed one of the bottles yunho bought and took a long swig from it. he looked out in the crowd again and spotted a pretty little blonde thing almost immediately, and took a moment to reflect.

he remembered his life before you, before chan, before that fucking rooftop. how women fawned over him, flocked to him, how obsessed they were. how he didn’t have to try for anything or anyone. he passed the bottle to wooyoung behind him who was so taken aback he hadn’t said a word. 

“san, we can leave, we can go, it’s okay,” wooyoung said, bent over once more, taking the bottle from san’s hand, “we don’t have to stay here, let’s go.”

“if you’re not going to drink that then give it back,” his reply is so curt it sliced through the air like the knife ki just put through his chest, “we are not leaving.”

wooyoung took a swig of the bottle, a proud smirk growing on his face, “finally, man. let’s be done with it already.”

2:27 am ri: u up? ri: i miss you

[hms-no-fun]

i have an intense love/hate with godfeels because it is beautifully written but it also makes me viscerally uncomfortable. something something disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed probably. engaging with that discomfort teaches me more about myself and is definitely worth it for something like godfeels. any advice for constructively engaging with media that Pisses You Off, by no fault of the creator? what would you say to your haters in good-faith, if you could?

well, to be fair i have said plenty to my haters in good faith previously, but that was a very direct response. if you and i were having a polite conversation amongst the two of us, my first question would be "how far did you get?" godfeels has been going for six years now (!!!), and it's gone through many phases in that time. i'm at a point now in my life where if someone tells me gf2 didn't click with them, i'll probably nod and say "yeah it's rough around the edges, there's a lot of stuff i'd do differently today." the most vocal contingent of haters i've ever gotten were the handful of people who dipped at gf2.2 when june got superdrunk and accidentally murdered a bunch of people, assuming the story was going to be about how cool and based that decision was. anyone who's actually read gf2 to completion should find that misconception laughable. it also makes a difference if you finished gf2 and stopped there, or started 3.1 and fell off, or if you got through chapter 8 and fell off, or if you're currently reading Double Album. each of those is a slightly different conversation with its own pros and cons. whether or not i'd try to talk someone into continuing their read depends entirely on those questions (and also how self-confident i'm feeling in the moment).

i guess i would say to someone who is not enjoying godfeels that they should stop reading godfeels. it's an extremely heavy story that digs into a wide variety of traumatic subject matter. it is also deeply personal in a lot of ways, which is perhaps a weird fit for a Homestuck fanfiction. so i can understand someone from the wider fandom hearing about godfeels as "the June Egbert fic" being disappointed that it's not fluff. i've documented in the past how gf2 emerged out of my dissatisfaction with the image of "Hairclips June," whose transition exists off screen and whose acceptance by her friends is an obvious expectation. i kind of feel bad for how that shook out in the long term since, between the lengthy hiatus of hs2 and the broader strangulation of the post-canon movement during the pandemic, the canonical "Hairclips June" story (or at least "June Who Doesn't Suffer 100% Consequences" story) doesn't seem to exist. i don't mean literally canonical, i mean "seeped into the fandom's collective unconscious" canonical, like Detective Pony. there are plenty of fanworks that do a good or at least interesting job with June, but they're not *about* June in quite the same way godfeels is. it's entirely possible that such a thing DOES exist and IS popular (i freely admit to being out of touch with modern fanworks), but for better or worse godfeels still seems to be the thing that comes up most often-- and not always in a positive light.

for a while now i've been working on an "Author's Introduction" which on the surface is an attempt to contextualize the phases of godfeels for new readers, but in actuality is more of a history of/commentary on the post-2019 fandom and the so-called "Homestuck Renaissance." i see this as necessary because godfeels is an extension of that moment, in particular the loudly recuperative pro-Vriska boosters and their exquisitely galaxy-brained VrisRezi meta. then gf3.1 responded to the fandom backlash, chapter 8 responded to my experience watching every foundation of my post-transition life crumble during the pandemic, and then Double Album is an exploration of building yourself and community back up in the aftermath of tragedy.

it's not that this context is necessary to understand or appreciate godfeels, just that i think it helps put things in perspective. when i started gf1, i hadn't written fiction in nearly 7 years. today, the series is sitting just shy of the 500,000 word mark. at every step of the process, the quality and ambition of my writing has increased exponentially. there's a reason i've written Double Album as a jumping-on point for new readers-- besides being better in virtually every way that matters to me, it's also largely shorn free of the baggage that can make godfeels a hard sell for folks. whether or not it actually SUCCEEDS as a jumping on point is another conversation entirely.

so i guess all of that is to say, if we were having a private conversation just the two of us, i freely admit that godfeels is a wildly disjointed story on top of being extreme and often emotionally masochistic. i am proud of this work from start to finish, but it fundamentally is the process of its authorship in a way that a thoroughly drafted and edited novel simply isn't. i used to publish chapters the instant they felt done to me, with only minimal revisions. these days i let chapters bake a lot longer and put much more thought into how they fit into the larger whole. i kinda miss the old way but the new way results in much better work.

i'd be curious to hear what exactly it is that Pisses You Off about godfeels, and why you nevertheless feel it's a worthwhile reading experience. you ask me for advice on how to constructively engage with media that pisses you off, but i don't have any because in general i don't engage with media that pisses me off. i stopped reading fanworks after 2020 because everything that survived seemed to cater only to the sector of the fandom that harassed my friends out of their jobs and platforms. i found their interpretations/extensions of canon lacking, their tendency for straightforward fluff rather grating. i COULD have made that everyone else's problem, but what would be the point? i wasn't the target audience. i didn't enjoy the work, so i stopped reading it. i'd rather move on to media i enjoy than suffer through media i don't.

BUT. there's a fine line here, because it actually takes a lot to Piss Me Off. i don't really believe in rules or standards in art as Inviolable Laws Of Nature. my measure of whether something is good has a lot less to do with its inherent quality and a lot more to do with the balance between intention and execution. it rarely matters how amateur something is, if it meaningfully accomplishes the thing it set out to do then i'll probably like it (or at least respect it). i look for expressions of authenticity, moments where the artist and the medium are in perfect sync. there are plenty of critically praised pretty-looking movies and games with big production values that i don't particularly like. sometimes that's because they're a naked moneymaking enterprise disguised as art. sometimes it's a problem of too many cooks in the kitchen. and then sometimes an artist is just full of shit and doesn't really know what the hell they're talking about (i like to call these people "Californians"). mostly, i just embrace that art-making and art-viewing are inherently subjective experiences, and i find little value in numbered rating systems of any kind.

a lot of my favorite movies and albums underwhelmed me my first time through. they challenged me in a way that i at first interpreted as incompetence, but have come to see as brilliance. there's stuff i found alienating in high school and early 20s that i find deeply relatable in my 30s. as a film student i've had so many conversations with so many people who have wildly different takes on the same movie that i've completely given up on the idea that anyone is an objective arbiter of what's good and what isn't. the only real thing is if it works and if it works for you. i search for the best in everything, because at the end of the day i'm just here for the love of the game and i don't much enjoy hating things. for media to really Piss Me Off, to elicit a genuine I Hate You response, it has to be more than just, like, poorly edited or whatever. it has to embody a repulsive worldview, be a tool of jingoistic propaganda, or otherwise act as an extension of corporate greed and wealth extraction. these days i reserve my hatred for that which has connection to real Power and exerts a mass cultural Influence, or that otherwise blindly reproduces the same problems.

i think it's far easier to critically engage with work you don't like when you search for the things that work, rather than the things that don't. when it works, when it really clicks, you see what they were going for, and only with that perspective can you see why what doesn't work doesn't work. all i ever ask is for readers to take my stuff as it is, good and bad, and judge it on those terms. i find your use of "comforts the disturbed, disturbs the comfortable" funny and fitting. art that wants to be for everyone is art that cannot be for anyone. it is a perfectly round grey sphere that all who gaze upon it can agree "exists" and "succeeds at what it's trying to do." good art is imperfect, because it is the result of a perspective you may not share. i've never wanted to make art for the masses. i want to make the kinds of things that i wished existed when i was younger. there are a surprising number of people who feel that godfeels positively affected their lives, and i know that i have very little to do with that. godfeels is an object that exists in the world. i had ideas of what it was when i wrote it, but i can't control what anyone else sees no matter how much digital ink i spill trying to explain my original vision. if it truly comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable, then on some level i must have succeeded in what i was trying to do even if the path to getting there was spotty and rough.

i did the best i could at every stage of writing godfeels. i would do things differently today, but i also wouldn't be here at all if i'd done it differently back then. i try to extend this grace to other artists as much as possible, that we're all just figuring it out as we go along. but i also know that everyone goes to art for different things, and finds value in different aspects of its expression. really, all i ever want is to have a conversation about the object without the looming specter of Respectability Politics and Moral Hazards. it's when people start acting like godfeels is Dangerous, and that i'm dangerous by extension, that i start having opinions about where critics are fucking up. tell me what it does or fails to do. point at the text and show me you've read and comprehended it by citing your sources and arguing through the text instead of around it. absolutely fuck off with the moral hand-wringing about Transgender Representation and Glorifying Violence and Perpetuating Toxic Stereotypes. it's a fucking Homestuck fanfiction, for god's sake.

but anyway you're not doing that, so, good job! i'm glad you find the experience of reading godfeels illuminating even if it pisses you off. i hope you found this lengthy answer enlightening, and maybe a bit annoying also. consistency is key, or so they say

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @lady-lostmind! lady_lostmind has 84 works in the Stranger Things fandom and 55 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@oh-stars recommends the following works by @lady-lostmind:

This Is The Coin I Had In My Pocket The First Time We Kissed, And I Always Have It.

Transfixed (under your spell)

Fuck

You know what to do, when it gets hold of you.

The Wall

"Mack is one of the best writers in this ship and I am so very lucky to read their work early on. Her Eddie voice is unmatched to me!! Every time I read a new fic of hers, I'm always shocked at how she can outdo herself with creating my next favorite fic. She's fearless in trying new tropes and genres, exploring super serious topics and she has some of the hottest scenes I've read. Every opportunity I have to read or reread her work is an absolute pleasure and I am so honored to get to see her flourish!" -- @oh-stars

Below the cut, @lady-lostmind answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ve been reading fanfic since I was a teenager but I never felt the urge to write my own until watching these two together. I think we can all agree there was some undeniable chemistry between the two on screen and they have such a fun dynamic to work with. I’ve always enjoyed creative writing in some shape or form whether it be for a class or writing lyrics for the band I was in, or the half abandoned novel I have in my docs. I decided to give fanfic a shot and then really loved getting to actually be a part of the community instead of lurking on the edges and leaving kudos anonymously like I had for years. But there is something so special about Steddie in particular and I’m especially drawn to writing Eddie in particular. His character has so many layers to explore and different directions to go and I love making him fall in love with his golden retriever of a man over and over again.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I am a sucker for a good slow burn, especially with some hurt/comfort thrown in. Please rip my heart out, stomp on it, pick it back up, and hand it back to me wrapped in a pretty little bow.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Honestly, the same as what I read. As much as I love a good fluffy one shot there’s nothing quite like the sweet torture of dragging your characters through hell before they get their happy ending. It’s so fun trying to navigate what they would do in difficult situations, and how that affects the story overall.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is such a hard question. There are so many good fics out there. We’re truly well fed in this community. I think some of my absolute favorites have to be You’re Divine by oonionchiver, and The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by greatunironic. Both of them inspired me to do a lot of fanart including a bind and cover art for You’re Divine, and drawing all the album covers in TMRTAYSITDITIY.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I never really know what I’m going to write next until it smacks me in the face. But I’m definitely open to whatever that might be. I will say I’ve never ventured into the omegaverse in my writing but it does seem like a fun one to play around with.

What is your writing process like?

Chaotic. I love writing but have a hard time actually sitting down and focusing on it. I either write a huge chunk all at once, or I write a sentence at a time while watching tv or something. I do really enjoy writing with other people though whether that’s in a sprint or word game.

Do you have any writing quirks?

If I have music on while writing it can’t have any lyrics in it or I get too distracted.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule is generous, I’d say. But I do prefer posting chapter by chapter. I feel like people engage a little more as they read each one and I love getting the feedback as I go.

Which fic are you most proud of?

And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. I think my writing grew a lot during that fic and I’m really proud of the work I put into it. AYMFYIABHWABW was also the first thing I ever wrote for an event and was a big step for me to actually put myself out there and talk with other authors and artists. I made some amazing connections through that event and am so glad I pushed through any self consciousness to ask for a beta reader because I found an amazing one in oh-stars and gained a great friendship through that. They introduced me to karadanverss when the two of them were looking for some help modding the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang and I not only gained another friend, but got to dip my toe into being a mod, something I never would have even considered doing before, but have had so much fun being a part of as we set up other events together. So I think because of all that, AYMFYIABHWABW will always hold a special place in my heart.

How did you get the idea for This Is The Coin I Had In My Pocket The First Time We Kissed, And I Always Have It.?

During a rewatch of New Girl. Nick Miller is honestly such a mash up of Eddie and Steve, and I could not get the idea out of my head to Steddiefy the scene in the hall where Nick says “Not like this.” It screams hopeless romantic Steve to me, and the title is a line Nick says to Jess way later and it never fails to make me cry. So, I started with that. Just wanting to do a similar situation with Steddie, and it morphed into something much bigger than I intended.

When writing You know what to do, when it gets hold of you., what was something you didn’t expect?

I thought I would have a harder time with Steve’s POV in this one than I did. I really wanted to show a side of him that I feel gets overlooked a lot since he’s always throwing himself in front of everyone else when there’s danger. But what happens when that danger isn’t there anymore? What does he do with that? It’s a side I hadn’t explored much before and I was really happy with where that took me. I really liked getting to see where Steve’s mind would go when the group is seemingly safe.

What inspired Transfixed (under your spell)?

Transfixed was written for the Steddie Summer Exchange! So I actually had this prompt: ‘Popstar Steve and rockstar Eddie having a secret relationship whilst the public and their own band mates think they hate each other.’ to go off of for it. This prompt screamed angsty, hurt/comfort so I was really excited I snagged it in claims.

What was your favorite part to write from You know what to do, when it gets hold of you.?

I think it has to be the scene where Steve finally breaks down. When Eddie figures out what has been going on and Steve just lets it all out. If there is one thing Steve Harrington deserves, it’s a good fucking cry.

How do/did you feel writing The Wall?

The Wall was written for Steddie Love Month with the prompt: Love is letting yourself be loved and if that didn’t scream insecure Steve I don’t know what does. I remember feeling very bittersweet while writing The Wall because I know what it’s like to be afraid to let someone in again when you’ve been hurt, and how good it feels when you finally let that wall down and accept that risk because it’s worth it. I tried to capture that feeling as best as I could.

What was the most difficult part of writing Fuck?

Fuck was another Steddie Love Month prompt. The hardest part of writing this one was just trying not to cackle to myself about how ridiculous Eddie was being. This one was a lot of fun to write.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Oh my. I think it either has to be the first scene I wrote for AYMFYIABHWABW that sparked the entire thing: Steve is staring at him, eyes wide and rocking a little on his heels like he’s so nervous he can’t stay still. Eddie’s stomach drops, his mind spiraling through a million worst case scenarios all at once. “What’s wrong? Is Wayne– Are the kids okay? Is it–” Steve holds his hands out in front of him and shakes his head. “Fuck, no. Sorry. No. It’s not–” Steve sucks in a deep breath, his hands shooting up into his hair before dropping to hovering in the space between the two of them. “Eds. I fucked up. I so massively fucked up. I can’t even begin to–[...] This feels like a fucking fever dream. Like something he’s imagined a million times over. Awake and asleep, In every possible scenario and position. All the times he fucked men in bathroom stalls and or pressed them against a wall in a dirty alley, this is what he wanted. And he was right. None of it even comes close to being this. This is…it’s everything. Fuck– it’s everything." Or this scene from You know what to do, when it gets hold of you where Steve finally gets to breakdown: Steve shakes against him, his tears wetting the shoulder of Eddie’s shirt. “I’m sorry.” Eddie shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He rubs his hand up and down Steve’s back. “Hey, you’re okay. We’re going to figure this out, okay?” Steve sobs, his hands fisting into Eddie’s shirt a broken “Sorry” slipping out of him again. Eddie’s arms tighten around Steve, and he struggles to swallow the lump forming in his throat, tears welling in his eyes. Can’t help the way his heart breaks a little at the sorrow in Steve’s voice. How vulnerable he sounds. Because Steve Harrington isn’t vulnerable. Steve Harrington dives into lakes with portals to another world at the bottom without a second thought. Steve Harrington rips other dimensional beasts apart with his teeth. Steve Harrington marched into battle calmly, and confidently. Steve Harrington carried Eddie out of a hellscape on his fucking back. Steve Harrington is the rock. He is the one everyone leans on. And Eddie knew. He knew something was wrong. He knew something was going on. But it’s one thing to know it, and another to see your hero crack and crumble in your arms.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

The Eddie Munson Big Bang! Definitely keep an eye on our tumblr (@eddiemunsonbigbang) to see all the amazing fics and art that will be coming out. I’m one of the mods over there, and I’m working on a fic for it that I’m really excited about. If this is posed before the end of September…we’re still looking for artists!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’d just really like to thank anyone who has ever taken the time to read my fics, or like any of the fanart I’ve made. I never expected anyone to really see any of it when I first started all this and have really loved finding a community to be a part of. I never had any friends who were really into fandoms or fanfiction, and up until I started engaging in Steddie content no one in my life even knew I read it. Getting to talk to, and make friends in this community gave me the confidence to talk more about what I’m interested in and connect more with the people in my life. So, thank you all for showing me how to be loud about the things I love and that I don’t have to hide parts of myself away!

Thank you to our author, @lady-lostmind, and our nominator, @oh-stars! See more of lady_lostmind's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[fascinating-yarn]

So You Want To Know About Chess The Musical

So you want to know about Chess. The first piece of advice I have to give you is:

Step 0: Are you sure?

Because trust me, it's a whole lot weirder than you think, even if you know that the story is, in fact, only very little about chess (the board game). But if you are sure, because you have a friend who, like me, can't stop talking about it, then, you're ready to begin with step one.

Step 1: Listen to the concept album

Yes, there are plenty of recordings of the full show that are easily accessible on YouTube. Do not be fooled. With very minor exceptions, they will not elucidate anything at all. Trust me, even if your favorite actor is in one of them, start here. You will have time to get back to them later, trust me. It helps to read the synopsis of the album while listening; this has been kindly transcribed here by @alovebizarre.

Already hooked? Yeah, probably. Now you understand why all of us got stuck down here in our circle of complaining about this show. We, too, all thought it was going to be good based on the concept album.

Step 1.5: Watch the 1989 concert

This is mostly the songs of the concept album and retains the two male leads, but has Judy Kuhn playing Florence, the female lead. It's a strong concert and only cuts one song, and adds another ("Someone Else's Story", the show's only breakout hit not on the album). There is plot narration in Swedish, but one of the versions on YouTube has been subtitled in English

Step 2: Acquaint yourself with The Big Four

Now you know the music but the plot may still not be totally clear. The next step is to get to know the major variations. These are, generally:

The 1986 London version (and derivatives)

The 1988 Broadway version (and derivatives)

The 1990 Sydney version (there aren't really derivatives for this one but the material shows up Everywhere)

The 2002 Swedish version aka Chess på svenska (and derivatives)

Now, you can watch the original productions of all of these, but the issue is that the first two are both... not great. So here are some alternatives.

Step 2a: London Alternatives

The London version is mostly an expansion of the plot of the concept album, with changes - most of the structural changes were initiated by director Michael Bennett, who left the production before rehearsals due to his illness, while most of the more distinct changes of themes are from later director Trevor Nunn.

There are videos of the original production, but they're generally poorly filmed and suffer from major generation loss. There was no cast album, but the score has been recorded twice: in 2002 with the cast of a Danish touring production (released as "Chess: Complete Cast Album," but recalled soon after and not on streaming) and in 2008 at the Royal Albert Hall (this is on streaming as "Chess in Concert" - one of two albums of that name).

Any one will give you an idea of the script, but the original London production is generally the most musically cohesive. The Royal Albert Hall version has some minor script changes, most of which make no real difference, but makes some bizarre choices in terms of transition music and is generally a poorly produced album. The Danish album is likewise not very strong.

The Royal Albert Hall concert was professionally filmed but the audio is poorly mixed and the show's cast varies from a few great performances to some that are... not so much. It's also got a track record of making people either latch on immediately or be totally turned away from the show, so watch at your own risk. For a possibly better experience, watch the original London production.

Step 2b: Broadway Alternatives

The original Broadway production still has a bit of a bad reputation in the fandom, but people have generally warmed up to it. The new book, by American playwright Richard Nelson, is generally strong (if a bit overlong) until about halfway through Act Two --- at which point it suddenly isn't anymore. The original production itself doesn't help, and though there are some good moments, it was not very well directed and some of Nelson's best scenes suffer.

Firstly, you should listen to the Broadway cast album. The cast is the best part of the show and does some incredible things. The new music isn't quite as good as the original material, but is still strong and worth knowing.

In terms of the actual book, your best chance at a good experience experience is probably the 1990 Long Beach production directed by David H. Bell and starring Jodi Benson, which has a watchable video online. There are some script changes, which serve to adjust the script to be less cynical, more palatable, and better paced. After this, do go back and watch the original cast, as it generally has a stronger overall cast and some scenes are genuinely great with them.

Step 2c: Sydney and Svenska

The Sydney production closed early due to the economic recession in Australia, and the script has never been revived, but parts of it appear all over the place, especially in the London derivatives of the early 1990s. It takes bits of the plots of both London and Broadway, and becomes its own thing. It is worth knowing, and there is a mostly bearable bootleg on YouTube.

If Sydney is its own thing for being a combination of London and Broadway, Svenska is its own thing because it resembles neither. The plot is streamlined to the essentials and takes place over a much shorter period of time, plus it has two new songs. There is a proshot that has been uploaded to YouTube with subtitles, and a very good cast album. There have been some productions since based on the script, but the original is still going to be your best starting point.

Step 3: Into The Abyss

There are so many other productions and they're all a little different from each other. Most are based on London or Broadway, but some are an odd combination resulting from people who wanted to produce the London version in the US being forced to retrofit the Broadway version (unavailable for US licensing until 2008). A non-exhaustive list is:

1992 Off-Broadway: Preserved only in an incomplete, poor-quality audio bootleg, plus a slightly more complete script from a lost recording, this script is Tim Rice's first (but not last) attempt at making something definitive post-Broadway. It is one of the most bizarre scripts out there and should really be experienced late to be fully appreciated.

1990 US Tour: An early attempt to jump off the Broadway script into something new, this production stars 42.9% of the original Broadway cast of Falsettos and has some wild stuff. Don't watch till you know Broadway, since it has been known to sour people's opinions on the show.

2003 Actors' Fund Benefit Concert: This one-night only concert is preserved on a leaked (but poor quality) archival video and a higher quality rehearsal performance. The script is an attempted hybrid of the London and Broadway scripts, but leans mostly on the London script with a few Broadway changes that serve really only to stay within the legal requirements of production still in place at the time (and doubly important due to Nelson's personal support of the concert).

2018 Kennedy Center Concert Series/2022 Entertainment Workers' Fund Benefit Concert: This script was eyeing Broadway for about five years but is no longer in the works as the rights were pulled. With a new book by Danny Strong, based on the London plot but with the details changed significantly, this production takes a more overtly political spin on the show and grounds it in actual political events. Start with the 2018 version, as it's generally agreed to be better than the later concert version.

2018 London Revival: To call this production a revival is generous, being staged by the English National Opera for a limited run and generally not being considered very important. It became well known mostly for being associated with the Kennedy Center production and the general knowledge that Rice was looking to bring the show back to Broadway. Despite that, this script is entirely unrelated to the Kennedy Center version and is mostly an onstage expansion of the concept album with the show being influenced heavily by Benny and Bjorn.

With all of these I have but one piece of final advice and that is:

Step 4: Be wary of The Discourse

This is not meant to scare you away from the fandom at all. I promise we're all very friendly and most of the discussions are quite civil. But every fan has very strong opinions about this show. I have tried to present this post as neutrally as possible but my bias has absolutely creeped in and you've already been influenced by my opinions on it. Some productions (notably the Kennedy Center script) are very divisive and I encourage you to consume them yourself and forming your own opinions.

And that is how to get into Chess. If you want to. It may not be the wisest decision, but hey, we all made the same mistake.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Unsolved Mysteries.

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[kacievvbbbb]

Wasteland baby! is the most under appreciated of the Hozier albums and truly what an album to be released just before the pandemic what a song to release before the pandemic. During an uncertain time an album about not being alone in a wasteland the way most of the songs are about devotion, to the point of fault, to the point of personal harm, to the point of manipulation, about doing everything to be with this person even when it's detrimental to you both or even when it's a person you've made up in your head, in a year when we couldn’t go out and see each other. Hozier releases an album that puts the yearning for love in the loneliness of the pandemic into words a full year before the pandemic even happened and we don’t even really talk about it and that should be a crime.

True that love in withdrawal was the weepin' of me That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree

god imagine hearing that in a pandemic and not going insane.

in this essay, I will-

[baddingtonbitch]

my current favourite youtube channel is this guy that just gets high as fuck and loses his goddamn mind reacting to various divas for the first time. he understands.

[actuallyredrobin]

Hey replacement, translate this for me- yeah?

----- .---- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- .---- / ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- / ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- / ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- / ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- / ----- ----- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- .---- / ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- / ----- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- / ----- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- ----- / ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- ----- / ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- / ----- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- / ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- ----- ----- .---- / ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- / ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- ----- .---- ----- / ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- / ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- .----

- Redbirddeadbird

first of all, replacement? i thought we were over that..

second of all, i hate you so much i hate you so much i hate you so much

[decarath-s]

Listen ofc all of the Unreal Unearth songs are amazing because it's Hozier we're talking about but holy fuck-

Personally the song in this album that smacked me across the face at first was Abstract (Psychopomp), and I can't believe more people are not going feral over it like I am, look-

H U H

I saw you perform this ultimately fruitless yet incredibly significant, humane and selfless act of kindness. You put your own life at risk for something others would have considered "too small". I saw you run into moving traffic, stain your own hands, just to offer a little comfort to this poor animal in its dying moments. I was terrified, I knew I had no choice but to love you.

[bbb-bbbbbbb]

another album art inspired one- all colorpicked aside from benreys eyes