#guess who crammed all 3 albums in this work

[frankiesteinart]

You make me wish I could disappear Y̵̺̋ö̷̫́u̵̬̍ ̶̙͛m̶̧͂a̶̰̎k̸̟̕e̴̖͝ ̵̫̚m̵̡̎e̵̖͘ ̶̥̀w̸͇̓ï̸̫s̵̻͝h̶̝͊ ̸͈̕I̷̬͌ ̵̟̏c̸͕͊ơ̸̫ủ̵̹l̴͙̈d̴̘̀ ̴̱͝d̴̺́ḭ̵̈́s̸̡͝ä̴̹́p̸̨̄p̵̣͘e̴̡̕à̸̢ṙ̵̹͙

[wrathbackup]

Today I woke up.

Out of boredom, I wanted to try something new.

I jumped.

I didn't think it would happen seriously.

But I went to sleep that night and woke up the next day. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary either; just a few weird things here and there.

My mom told me to clean my brother's room as he was finally returning home after a good 3 years of being away.

I assumed she was still hung up on the past cuz no way he was coming back.

But it wasn't the case and I was wrong.

Apparently after his motorcycle speeding stunt. He wanted to take a trip abroad to reflect on himself and do voluntary service work; it's been 3 years since then. And dad was more than willing to let him fix himself up.

I was supposed to know that.

But the issue is.

I didn't know that he took a trip abroad. 

From what I remember, he died on the spot.

He hasn't existed in my life since then.

I remember mom putting his ashes next to my grandparents.

I remember attending the funeral service.

I wasn't particularly close to him. But my dad was upset that he lost his eldest son.

And mom was crying her eyes out.

I was supposed to be taking finals that day.

But I ended up missing the very test that would make or break my grade.

And when I took that test after all that happened on a make-up day.

There was no sympathy from teachers whatsoever.

I failed.

I lost a family member and I got held back a year. 

I thought I could get back to normal as soon as I got my footing back on track.

But I had no motivation to do anything.

I resented my teachers.

I resented my parents for holding me back on an important day.

And I resented my brother for being a suicidal idiot.

Mom signed me up for cram school and tutoring but all I got was judgment from my peers.

There were rumors spreading about me.

Rumors that I was involved in crime, illegal skirmishes and that my brother was part of a gang.

It wasn't even true.

He had delinquent friends but they were never gang members or whatever that bullshit is.

All I remember was drinking a glass of water to test some silly thing I heard about on the internet cause I had way too much time on my hands.

But he returned home that night.

 And to my surprise apparently everything I knew about our relationship was wrong.

I studied every nook and cranny of the damn house.

The ashes weren’t even his. It was our old cat next to our grandparents' urns.

We never had pets though...

Apparently I've been messaging my brother ever since he left. I was in more confusion as I went through our message history. We were supposed to be friendly I guess.

There were albums in my dresser of our childhood photos. I remember having this album, but some of these photos were straight up not real. I swear they never happened.

I had no memories of them.

Everything I knew about my life seemed to be completely rewritten.

My awareness of the reality I had was suddenly mixed in with this new one.

This felt like some sick TV show prank.

And all of this happened because of some water? Is that right?

My brother greeted us warmly with hugs. It was so weird. He gave me a huge pat on the head and messed with my hair.

He said he was glad to be back; he had a bunch of photos to show us. Souvenirs and some notes relating to Dad's research.

I avoided him for the rest of the waking hours.

Pondering when I should find my way out.

Well, spoiler.

I stayed there for 5 months at most. And left after an incident where he drank too much beer at a family gathering.

He came into my room with a bat accusing me of being a body snatcher. 

I thought I was good at playing along this entire time. I studied all the memories I had available!

I know he was drunk but somewhere deep down he knew I was an imposter.

That wasn't going to fly for the rest of the year. It creeped me out whether or not he was in the right senses.

So

I jumped again.

And this time I just wanted a life of solitude where everyone left me alone. 

But what I got this time were estranged parents. Trust issues.

A distant brother who bullied me in childhood.

A house cat that was still alive but unfriendly.

While I enjoyed my solitude for quite a while. I was getting bored.

And for some reason I still feel a huge sense of guilt just being around too long.

I am me. But I am an imposter no matter where I go.

I was thinking of jumping a third time.

If this continues I might have to become an aimless wanderer.

That isn't too bad I guess.

When I awoke again in the next life.

I was reveling in new information.

I lived in a bigger house and we had a house cat that was friendly.

My grandparents were still alive and well.

I had a brother who was distant but there seemed to be no animosity between us. 

A friend who was a crossdresser...or something like that? Oh! And I attended a private academy...! My family in this universe seems pretty rich.

I was mapping out all this information, quickly recording everything I remember including the stuff I was currently receiving on the spot, in my notebook.

But-

Dad called me while I was scribbling all this stuff down on the way to school.

He told me that my brain waves weren't normal and were behaving weirdly. The activity was irregular.

He said he dispatched some people who were gonna come get me.

I began to fear that my plan to be an aimless wanderer, might come to end. I got dragged away in a van, kidnapped right off the streets right then and there.

I screwed up.

I should've stayed where I was.

A life of solitude and loneliness was better than being monitored 24/7 by some manic science researcher.

who also happened to be my dad.

[sanctferum]

Homestuck Sound Test (12/20/2020 Edition)

IMPORTANT: If the download links aren’t working, they may have changed since the last person reblogged them, due to the Sound Test needing to be reuploaded for whatever reason. Try clicking on the links while viewing this post on my blog.

That’s right, Homestuck and Hiveswap fans, we’re back and better than ever! Right on the heels of the first trailer for Andrew Hussie’s new visual novel, it’s time for the newest edition of the Homestuck Sound Test! The Homestuck Sound Test, 12/20/2020 Edition!

For those eager to download, I will provide the link here and continue my expository bullshit below.

Download link (total file size: 3.60 GB):

https://mega.nz/file/DFghAAhJ#afOyeGtO6AzJv-ll24y6S7CoJjq2E_u8HgImRJRcvpk

Alternate download link (same contents as other link):

https://www.mediafire.com/file/xwgo92zd33jfnf8/

Download only the new stuff (total file size: 558 MB):

https://mega.nz/file/yVJjAQTA#GyFd3OpknNuY0RnG-tjsNCKrscVZdUn7PUryEZAgLtw

Alternate download link for only the new stuff (same contents as other link):

https://www.mediafire.com/file/dm35c05cydafj1b/

Downloaded file is a .rar, and can be opened by WinRar, 7Zip, and most other file extraction programs. Changelog for the Sound Test since the last release is included in a text file within either download.

Started by Niklink in 2011, and now curated by yours truly, The Homestuck Sound Test is an unofficial collection of several otherwise scattered, and, in some cases, unavailable Homestuck musical tracks, primarily those created by the Homestuck Music Team.

The Sound Test contains:

Disc 1 - Unreleased Homestuck Music (78 tracks): Music that has been used within Homestuck proper but has not been officially released on an album.

Disc 2 -  Removed Homestuck Music (25 Tracks): Music that was officially released on albums but later removed from said albums. Sburban Jungle’s brief mix from Act 1, an Aggrieve remix, and removed tracks from Bill Bolin, SolusLunes, and Seijen. Does not include the ColoUrs and Mayhem A tracks that turned out to be plagiarized from the Frozen Synapse OST. If you want those tracks, go buy the Frozen Synapse OST. Also includes a backwards, amplified audio version of “null” from Volume 8 (not related to Null from Song of Skaia). In case you’re wondering, “null” as originally released and without the sound amplified was just 8 seconds of seeming silence.

Disc 3 -  Unreleased Homestuck Music Team Music (773 tracks): Homestuck-related and/or Homestuck-inspired music made by the Music Team members that have not been used in Homestuck proper and have not officially been released on an album; also includes beta versions of tracks and unfinished WIPs. Includes beta versions, remasters, and remixes of tracks from official Homestuck albums that may not have been made by official Music Team members (read: ColoUrs and Mayhem tracks). Homestuck fan-music by Hiveswap Music Team members (i.e James Roach) is also included

Disc 4 - Unreleased Hiveswap Music (7 Tracks): Essentially the same thing as Disc 1, but for Hiveswap instead of Homestuck.

Disc 5 - Unreleased Hiveswap Music Team Music (22 tracks): Essentially the same thing as Disc 3, but for Hiveswap instead of Homestuck. Hiveswap fan-music by Homestuck Music Team members is also included.

Disc 6 - Unreleased Friendsim and Pesterquest Music (26 tracks): Same thing as Discs 1 and 4 but for Hiveswap Friendsim and Homestuck Pesterquest.

Disc 7 - Unreleased Friendsim and Pesterquest Music Team Music (12 tracks): Same thing as Discs 3 and 5, but for Hiveswap Friendsim and Homestuck Pesterquest.

Unavailable Homestuck Albums (2 albums, 39 tracks total): Albums that were previously officially sold and have not yet been re-uploaded for purchase.

-Squiddles! (23 tracks)

A spin-off album about Squiddles, an in-universe cartoon about adorable sea creatures.

-The Wanderers (16 tracks)

An album about the Exiles of the B2 session.

Unofficial Homestuck Music Team Albums (3 albums, 28 tracks total, 1 folder with MIDI files, 11 files total): Free unofficial Homestuck albums by members of the Music Team.

-A Plumbthroat Christmas (5 tracks)

A jolly tale of Squiddles and Yuletide cheer by Alexander Rosetti. Not actually jolly or cheerful. If you like musicals about sentient cephalopods devouring human corpses, then this album is for you, I guess.

-Seer (13 tracks)

Tracks from a scrapped Rose Lalonde concept album by Thomas Ferkol. Given the circumstances of their origins, I felt it was best to keep them as a single album rather than cram them all into the Sound Test’s Disc 3. While neither “The Seer and the Tribesmen” or the full version of “The Metamorphosis [of Rose Lalonde]” are included, they are available on the Land of Fan and Music albums (Land of Fans and Music 2 and Land of Fans and Music 3 respectively).

-The Baby Is You (10 tracks)

Simultaneously the worst fucking thing Toby Fox has ever made and his magnum opus that even Undertale cannot surpass, even mentioning this legendary trash opera on the now-defunct MSPA forums was grounds for a ban. Warning: Contains male pregnancy (mpreg), heavy implications of underage sex, implications of incest, time travel, a clip of Karkat saying “MMMMMMMMMMM” that was used in the Act 6 Act 6 Act 1 opening flash, vore, the answer to the Ultimate Riddle, and other absolutely awful shit that has no business being in the Sound Test, or indeed, anywhere. Listen at your own risk, if you dare.

-Tomb of the Ancestors (MIDI Files) (11 files)

MIDI files for most of the tracks from Tomb of the Ancestors, by Kalibration. The actual album is available at http://dl.skaia.net/albums.

Dave’s Phat Beat Machine (16 tracks): 16 of the sickest, illest and dopest beats ever to grace Homestuck page 2238.  These certified “Phat Beats” dropped by Dave Strider’s AKAI MPC-1000 SAMPLER do not include easter egg bonus songs on said page. They also don’t include Bill Bolin’s long-removed contributions to the Phat Beat machine, because those are already included on Disc 2.

That’s 1026 tracks total in the Homestuck Sound Test 12/20/2020 Edition, not including MIDIs.

Several tracks on Disc 3 are currently uncredited. If you are the artist of any of them, or know who the artist is, or see a track that is credited incorrectly anywhere on the Sound Test, please send a message to my Tumblr and I will happily fix the mistake.

Enjoy your listening, and don’t forget to reblog this post to spread the word!

[stopeatingwhales]

“dance with me,” x noel gallagher

this was one of my earliest requests and i’m so unbelievably sorry it’s so overdue! i honestly went all out with writing this (it’s the longest fic i’ve ever written from this date). my honest face by inhaler helped me write the ending/the last part to this, so thank you inhaler anons ;) x

Pairing: high school noel x reader

Warnings: low form of assault, but it’s very brief (from another character - not noel) + A LOT of softness :)

Word count: 4.772

Requested by anon, I’m so sorry it’s so late <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“No, I want you, she’s so heavy is the best song!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air, a repulsive look plastered on my face. “Imagine thinking that Polythene Pam was the best,” I added, my loathsome expression increasing in disgust.

I was at Noel’s house, sitting on his bed in his shared room, accompanied by his younger brother Liam as Abbey Road by the Beatles blasted out of his record player. The atmosphere of the space was extremely calming - Noel sometimes joining in on Oh! Darling as it spun around on the player, his guitar strumming the notes lightly projecting the song louder, whilst his knee bounced up and down to measure the beat. I laid down on his bed, adorning his scent whiffed all over the sheets as I played with a few of my hair strands, humming along to Paul McCartney’s voice quietly, not interrupting the soothing sounds escaping from Noel’s guitar. The occasional curse word slipped out of Liam’s mouth - his eyes pinned on the simple question written on his homework sheet. He hadn’t done any of his work for the past two weeks, receiving multiple detentions - to which he didn’t attend - until the headteacher of our school decided to threaten him with an expulsion. During the time I was with them, I had slightly helped on a few of the questions littering his maths sheet, hinting at the answers so he would be able to properly figure them out himself. However, trying to teach a naughty 12-year-old how to do long division was exactly like being able to balance a spoon on your nose whilst laughing. Completely and utterly impossible.

Me going over to Noel’s place wasn’t unknown; I tended to go over to theirs once or twice during the week, most times after school because I had nothing better to do. We usually hung out in his room, mainly because we were both drained from how exhausting school always was, and plus, we didn’t need to go anywhere to have a laugh together, we always did. No matter where we were, we somehow found a way to brighten everything up - perhaps by smoking a joint together in a plain field, watching the sunset as we impatiently waited for another rave to pass by us, or by spending our evenings in relaxing moments like these, listening to our favourite albums without a care in the world, the occasional argument slipping out of our mouths about which was the best song - usually ending up in Noel ignoring me for the sum of 10 minutes before I gave in and apologised for my stupid remark. There’s no best song by The Beatles, they’re legendary for a reason.

“Shut it, otherwise I’m ignoring you again,” Noel replied, staring at me with both his eyes squinted together. I lifted my head up from his pillow, scoffing. Knowing this was going to happen, I didn’t reply to his silly remark, dropping my head back down onto his pillow once again. Despite the groggy feeling partnering in the room due to the heater being on, his scent was sweet. He smelt like a packet of heavy Marlboro cigarettes, whisked in with cheap aftershave from the shop down the road because he’s skint from buying too many cigarettes and ‘forgot to buy one the other day’. Nevertheless, it was alluring. I adored his scent, mainly because it reminded me of how the littlest things in life can mean the most to you. It continuously reminded me that doing simple things like these add to the empowering lifestyle of being a teenager in a dying city; Manchester was left to rot due to the prime minister focusing all her time and dedication to unimportant things, rather than helping the poor and lower class. It gave us a sense of freedom, that without the higher class evoking their worry in our troubles, they forgot about everything and let us be. We could do whatever we desired now, whether it be partying until you’re unable to walk for three days, or skipping school because you can’t be bothered to see people that only retaliate at you for petty reasons. It was the bittersweet rivers of life, we were poor but we had fun with it, dancing until our last breath before dawn.

“Noel,” Liam said, lifting his head up from his crinkled worksheet. “Don’t you have that school dance soon?” he added, the temperature of the room now feeling like it was upped one hundred degrees due to my cheeks reddening. Since me and Noel didn’t have that big of a friendship group, and both of us having somewhat a troubled love life for our age, our minds never brushed past the thought of going to the leavers dance. It was itching towards the end of the school year, meaning that we were going to leave school, so going and taking part in the fun of a last dance was quite hyped up. My mind sometimes brushed the idea of me and Noel going together, but we were only friends. Plus, wouldn’t that just be weird?

I tried to subtly raise my head to look at Noel, my eyes trailing from the plain white ceiling to his slim-structured body. The neck of his acoustic guitar was gripped gently by his left hand, his right caressing the strings softly as his playing came to a close from the question hanging in the air. He shifted around in his seat a bit, adjusting where the guitar sat, before clearing his throat and answering the question. I was tempted to ask him the same thing too, my curiosity over the subject now being the only thing pitted in my mind. “Well, yeah but I haven’t got no one to go with, init?” He said, staring straight at Liam, then the piece of paper lying in front of him on his bed. My heart sank a little as that sentence launched out of his mouth abruptly, my thoughts now following on with unspeakable things of what I could’ve answered to that. I knew he really wanted to go with someone, but there wasn’t anyone who would be willing to go out with him, even for just one night.

“Couldn’t you just go with Y/N?” Liam asked, turning his head to look at me. My eyes widened expeditiously, my crimson cheeks now turning to fire as I chewed on my bottom lip. The heat bubbling in my body caused me to feel a slight tingle at my lower back, the feeling of sweat beginning to form on all the spots that weren’t visible to both boys - the skin I owned underneath. “Unless you’ve got someone to go with, but I doubt that,” Liam added, chuckling after his words.

Ignoring his comment, I stayed silent for a few seconds, my eyes darting to my fingers as I fiddled with them - figuring out what to answer. “I mean, we could just go as friends I guess?” I said, now staring straight at Noel. He stared back at me, his eyebrows shifting around a bit, contemplating the idea that was now punctured in his brain. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” I added, reassuring that I did feel the same way at first - friends shouldn’t be going together - when it’s no harm dressing up and having a couple drinks with your best friend, we do that all the time anyways.

“I suppose so,” He replied, nodding his head as he darted his head back to the record player, reaching out for the opened water bottle placed by the record player - taking a short sip of it before carrying on his sentence. “But you have to admit Polythene Pam is the best song,”

~~~

As I walked through the school gates I was for once welcomed with a feeling which wasn’t dread. I gazed around the mundane, dimmed colours of the school’s front whilst anticipation filled my veins whole, adoring my body like a little child, after begging and begging for minutes on end for their guardian to buy them a treat they had been eyeing at for what felt like a year, their carer gives in from the child’s immediate persistence, causing the kid to be on a cloud-nine-level of euphoria and exhilaration. For once, I felt excited; apprehension for the tales ahead buzzed through my body, for my usual, stale state taking a departure once my eyes made contact with the known building for once. Tonight I was going to enjoy myself, even if I despised the majority of the people who were attending. This was one of the last chances I got to enjoy myself at school - and since we’re going for the its-the-last-day-of-the-world vibe - I might as well make the most of it while it lasts.

Walking up to the main building, I saw bright, flashy colours being projected from inside the large hall, reminiscing me of the many raves I had hazily attended with Noel whilst we were drunk off of our heads. The sparkling lights, the huge domes of crowded, drunken teenagers - just like me and him - trying to find a place to fit in, accidentally stumbling into an open, warm embrace to another dimension crammed with unknown faces, an introduction to the exact same embrace they’d be entangled in when they go back home to their parents in the middle of the night - whom were sick to their stomach in worry because they didn’t know where their child was. You belonged to your families, but you refused to believe that life was as bland as it had become; there’s more to life than studying for exams, everyone says. You don’t want to end up like the small percentage of people who refuse to live their lives because it's the only one they’ve got. You want to live your life because it is the only one you’ve got.

My shoes echoed a light tap on the concrete as I paced slowly, my mind entranced in thought, wondering the crowds I’d be exposed to once I set foot inside the chattering room.  As I made my way to the glass door, I stared at my reflection briefly, adjusting my hair a little bit due to it falling out of place from the small gusts of wind that had accompanied me on my way to the school. A rush of nervousness focused on my mind until I gripped on the handle, pushing the door open, revealing the view of teenagers dancing about, drinking, laughing or slobbering on each other's faces. My anxieties were cleared when I saw every girl dolled up in dresses; the one I was currently engulfed in wasn’t that nice - it being the only dress I’ve had in my wardrobe for a couple years (since I wholeheartedly have a brutal hate for dresses). I was forced to keep it in my closet in case there was a time and a place I needed it, for unexpected times like these,  a leavers disco, my date being my one and only best friend Noel Gallagher. I was astounded to realise it actually sat on me the same as it used to, only a little bit shorter due to me growing in height. I was the same height as Noel, yet we would always have arguments over who was taller - always being shushed by Liam as he was figuring how to write a paragraph describing what happens in Act 5 of Macbeth. Get a room, you two.

Wandering on the sidelines of the grand hall, I picked up on the little decorations which had been ripped off the walls from careless students. The colour of the room was a simple blue, making it quite hard to study everything from the human eyes. Bits of what seemed to be silky red ribbon - the flashing lights of the room making it quite hard to figure out what shade it was - ripped up tissue paper, and a few bursted balloons. Music was playing, blasting out of huge Marshall amps, stacked upon each other on the main stage, where years worth of plays and performances were repetitively played almost every half term, my mind reminiscing on the first play I did in year 7 as a side character. The many screams that escaped people’s mouths as the chorus of Boys Don’t Cry by the Cure, prevented me from living out the memories for the last time as I set foot in the hall. Humming along to the melody, I waved my arms around in the air - not too far out, in case I accidentally come into contact with someone rushing past me - my fingers twiddling together as I spun myself around slightly. The ambience of the room felt very uplifting, reminding me of, yet again, those fun times I had experienced with Noel on the many late nights of the summer holidays.

My eyes briefly caught contact with a table as I was walking - the drinks stand. It sat straight ahead of me, yet it was positioned facing the crowds of people mingling about singing along to the new song that began playing. As each step began bringing me closer to it, I attempted to analyse what was suited up for options, squinted my eyes together. There were four fish-bowl-like tubs, with nothing but flavoured beverage inside them, all of them being a different shade - one lighter than the other, one darker than the other. Once I made it to the table, I continued to vary my choice, my eyes completely enthralled by the options. Bowls were left almost empty, some fully empty. As I placed my finger on the one which had the most drink in it, I squinted my eyes together again, wondering if it was the best choice.

“You come here alone?” chirped up a voice in front of me, behind the table. As I raised my head up, I met eyes with the person, noticing that it was one of mine and Noel’s mates. There were stacks of paper cups lined up behind him, along with one small stack sat on the wooden table beside his stood body - for easy access when having a lot of customers, especially at the start of the dance, when all the people attending want is a drink to murder the awkward atmosphere building up in the place.

Laughing lightly, I smiled. “Well, I’m supposed to be here with Noel,” I said, quickly scanning the room after to see if he had made it yet - clearly not. “But he doesn’t seem to have arrived here  yet,”

I heard a laugh escape the boy's mouth. “You and Noel?” he asked, grabbing a spoonful of the drink I was eyeing merely seconds previous, snatching a paper cup from the pile lined up perfectly beside him, gathering some of the drink before splashing the liquid into the cup. “I was wondering when that was going to happen,” he added, more or so mumbled, as if he was trying to hide it from me. I noticed he rolled his eyes slightly, his eyebrows furrowing together as he dropped the spoon he was pouring the drink with back into its original position - inserted into the bowl.

“Sorry?” I asked, confused by his comment. He handed me the drink after swishing it around in his hand a couple times - perhaps to check if there was enough to the point it wouldn’t spill, or maybe because he was stunned by my upfront approach against his words, mustering responses in his head before spitting back at me. It felt like there was a lot on his mind - a lot he wanted to say, most likely things to me.

His eyes wandered around the table separating us. Fixating both his palms on the table, keeping it steady, he sighed, sucking in one side of his mouth before exhaling. “Well, he’s more of a pretentious twat if I’m honest,”

I was shocked. My jaw was practically on its way to drop to the ground and smash at full force - as if it were being thrown off the tallest tower in the world. Why did he say that? “Plus, he’s your best mate, are you that lonely not to go with anyone else?” he scoffed, clearly aiming the question towards why I hadn’t gone with him. There was speculation of him liking me between conversations I had with our small friend group at school, but I tended to avoid bringing it up in conversation; I got too uncomfortable. We weren’t close, he was always there simply whenever we hung out at school. Apart from that, we barely ever saw him, let alone know anything about him.  

“Come on Y/N, let’s dance,” he said, circling the table, walking round to where I was standing, my eyes facing the bowls. He grabbed my arm roughly - turning me to look directly at him. “You deserve better than that fucker!” he exclaimed, attempting to drag me closer to him, as he pulled us to the middle of the room, where everyone was dancing. Gripping onto the beverage tightly in my free hand, I pulled it close to me, in case I’d manage to spill anything on the floor, becoming the cause of someone’s injury from slipping and ripping their clothes. His body language seemingly began to turn more aggressive as we made it to the centre of the room, the pressure being put on my wrist getting more and more tight. The idea of me and Noel dancing in the room played on his mind as it did with mine too, noticing the amount of people dancing with their significant others. Perhaps the reason he kept adding so much strength was because he was jealous, the same sort of jealousy when you find out two of your supposed best friends had gone out together and forgot to ask you to come - when without a doubt deliberately did it since they didn’t want you attending. His grip was slowly seeming out more pain in my body.

My hand began to ache; the force he was pushing onto my wrist was causing my hand to tingle from the lack of blood circulation. The idea of throwing my drink at him, knowing I wouldn’t drink it anymore due to what he was doing to me, “Get off of me, you bitch!” I shrieked, jittering my hand around in all ways possible, causing him to turn his face to look at me, scold me perhaps, until I took the chance and threw my drink straight at him - aiming for the eyes like pepper spray gauging to the root of your eyes, blinding you in immediate pain. I heard him shout, instantly releasing his hold from my hand, as I headed to leave the room straight away. Practically everyone had their eyes glued to the pair of us, staring both of us questioningly, the sound of my heels clanking against the wooden floor ringing through my ears painfully as I exited the immensely tensed stiff room.

~~~

Walking outside of the building, I made my way towards the gate I once entered, couching to lean against the wall that was placed beside it. The aged wall felt cold, the little bumps of hardened cement sticking out of the bricks digging into my dress, eventually into my back. The contrast of my heated body against the freezing wall brought a feeling of relaxation - the stressful situation that had previously occurred just moments ago finally began departing from its connection to my thoughts. I held my face in my hands, slowly feeling my wrist go from its numbed state to a softened feeling of fuzz; I moved it around a little bit, noticing I had somewhat control of it now. The past tingly feeling I felt on my hand had come to my head instead, as I started to weave myself into thoughts about what people would take and think from the situation. I was almost certain someone was going to mention it to everyone and everywhere imaginable - casual teenager gossip, a girl got assaulted, spread it around!

As the skies unfolded newer, darker shades, welcoming the night, the stale breeze picked up on itself, cluttering my hair, throwing it to other parts of my face - like how it was before I had entered the building, this time as if I had rolled down a mountain and stood up injury free. Collecting my arms in an embrace to warm me up, I leaned my head back against the brick wall, staring at the twinkling night sky. It was surprising how much light the moon emitted. You didn’t need that many lamp posts at all, unless you were walking in an area where the moon was unable to shimmer its colours: a dull alleyway, where there's only one small light hanging on the wall, basically broken, a flickering light flashing out of it, just managing you to get through the dust and dirt cascaded around you. Almost telling you that, you’ll be able to survive your hardships, as long as you believe in the light to keep shining.

Staring at my shoes, I admired the little sparkles glimmering from my shoes. They were small, short-cut heels that I put on to make myself look fit for the part of a schoolgirl ready to depart from her beautiful teenage life and enter a world of womanhood. I was growing up, and I just hoped that the future that was slowly unravelling itself to me was going to be better than I anticipated it to be. Tonight went to shit, though.

“Y/N?” a voice said, speaking up as it walked through the gate’s entrance. Straight away I was able to know who it was. Noel.

Moving my head from the view of the night sky, I locked eyes with Noel - who was standing in front of me, concern miffed on his eyes. He was clothed in a cheap looking suit, perhaps one he found in his mother's closet which belonged to his father previously, or maybe one he stole from a friend. It fit him perfectly, as if the brand tailored to his bodily structure. His hair looked as if he had done it properly for once, rather than having it in its usual, worn down state. “Why are you sitting alone, and outside in the freezing cold?”  

I scoffed, recalling the situation. However, I avoided mentioning it; it would only make the rest of the evening more dreadful to experience. “Rough night,” I mumbled, turning my head to the glowing skies again. “Where were you?” I asked, attempting to change the subject expeditiously. Thankfully, it worked.

“Thought it started at ten,” he replied, walking to lean on the wall beside me, but not sitting like I was. He shuffled his feet a little bit, small, minuscule rocks causing a scraping sound to ripple out from underneath. It was a soothing sound at first, the coarse scratches against the floor reminding me of walking in the middle of a sea of leaves in a park in autumn, completely emptied, without a soul to be seen when there's not a single tree alive and blooming anymore. A ghost town, when in summer would be compressed with thousands of people trying to get past the sweaty, sticky air causing you to cough a couple times. You walk through, stomping on whatever leaf your shoe comes into contact with, a crisp, crunchy sound mounting from it. You slow your pace, wanting to breathe in the cool air, capture the moment before it’s too late and you’re getting your keys to unlock your front door. “Guess not,”

Sighing, I shook my head. “It’s fine, don’t worry, really,” I answered, my eyes trailing to the school building once again. “It’s not like you missed out on anything,”

As if on cue, once my eyes made contact with the place, the loud music that was being projected out of it came to a halt - cutting off mid song, forming goose bumps on my arm out of frustration. You don’t cut off a song halfway, patience, please. I’d always say to Noel, when he got sick and tired of listening to I want you (She’s so heavy) for the fourth time. We’ve listened to it four times! Regardless, you twat. You don’t cut off good music.

I heard Noel snicker lightly, knowing I would get bothered - even if I didn’t physically show it. What was replaced with the rasp, echoing sounds of some random dance song, was the music I was silently waiting for all night. The slow dancing song. The most memorable moment of the night. In all honesty, the song that was playing was bad - but that’s not the point.

As the music progressed on, I imagined myself in the hall, slow dancing with Noel. Tonight made me realise something: over the past year and a bit of mine and his friendship blossoming, he became someone that I needed in my life, in my future. Like how tea needs its milk and sugar. Like how to write you need a pen. You couldn’t take one or the other out of the equation; it wouldn’t make sense - at all. It was weird enough knowing we used to hate each other in class, not because someone said something to the other to piss them off, neither of us really didn’t know. We just hated each other’s presence - until we both shared a spliff together one morning before school; I had forgotten my last cigarette at home, and him - not exactly knowing why he did it - offered to have a hit of his.

“Dance with me,” he said, lifting his body off off the wall, once again standing right in front of me.

“What?”

“Every girl deserves a dance,” he started grabbing my hand, preparing himself to pull me up. Our eyes made stale contact, his brunette eyes interlocking with mine. They had a certain shine to them under the moonlight, a certain twinkle I was never able to notice before. “Especially you,” he added, dragging me up from the icy, dirty floor.

My heart fluttered as he pulled my body close to his, his hand adorning my hip as his other held my hand and pulled it closely to his chest. My grin was as wide as the sun in 360 degree view, heating up my face in a light blush, not noticeable in the dark. A part of me felt as if he noticed; his small smile widened slightly when the rush of warmth embraced my skin. I placed my free hand on his shoulder, allowing my fingers to feel the cheap fabric he was wearing. I didn’t care how expensive or how low-priced, all I needed was Noel, no one else. He knew me like no one else did.

Pulling Noel closer to my body, we began swaying, the soft sounds of the music playing in the background. I’m sure everyone else in the town would be able to hear the music at one point; they used an unreasonable amount of amps for the songs. I hugged his body, adoring his scent once again. The same, cheap, worn down smell, whiffed with what smelt like a hit of weed, perhaps to calm himself down. He looked quite nervous when I first saw him. He was nervous, for me.

“Y/N,” he said, causing me to lift my head from his shoulder. I stared into his obscure, enthralling orbs, my heart softening. His pupils were dilated, his bottom lip sank into his mouth. He seemed anxious, worried about what was happening, until he exhaled his breath, a breath seeming like it was meant to escape decades ago, and cocked his head to the side, leaning in.

Heart pounding, I did the same, as our lips brushed against one another's. The kiss felt extremely overdue, as if it was meant to happen on the morning we first bonded on our new knowledge of our shared habit. He tasted exactly like how I imagined: sweet. Sweet with a hint of honey. Sweet with a hint of hunger, as if this was needed far, far long ago. This kiss was a response to every conversation we ever had, every lock of the eyes, every embrace. We continued swaying whilst our lips adventured on the feeling of something new. Love.

So when you ask me, how was your school dance? Because you like to push your nose into everyone else’s business, I’ll tell you, it was the best night of my life, like the end of all things usually is.

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

The Leppard Albums: A Summary

(inspired by Every Beatles Album)

Happy Saturday night everyone

The Def Leppard EP

Joe is 19 and just wants to ride a motorcycle okay

Groupie fantasy

Zeppelin lyrics meet Rush with an underappreciated bass line

On Though the Night

IT'S!!! ROCK!!! N ROLL!!! BABEY!!!

Joe is 20 and just really doesn't wanna work in a factory anymore okay

pls D; girl D; stop D; hiding D; your D; pain!!

another... groupie fantasy... I think? ...???

Leppard in Space

Joe is 20 and just wants to write something edgy okay leave him alone

STEVE 👏👏👏 FUCKING 👏👏👏 CLARK!!!! 👏👏🔥👏��👏👌👌

the original groupie fantasy but it's been re-recorded

girl?? make up?? your mind???

let's be mysteriously edgy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Zeppelin lyrics meets Rush but it's been re-recorded (but don't worry they still kept the underappreciated bass line)

High N Dry

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it

we have Mutt Lange now and this is the song that proves it

drONK TIEM

betcha didn't think we could write a ballad, did ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

STÊVË!!!!! 👏👏👏👏 FÜCKÎÑ!!!!!! 👏👏👏👏👏 C L Ã R K!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥👏👌👌🤙👏👌🔥👌🎉🎉

underappreciated and that's all there is to it

noooo don't go you're too mysterious and sexy hahhaha

oh god Dx oh god no Dx we don't sound like this anymore we swear Dx

betcha thought we stopped writing Beowulf-esque pop songs didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

🚫🚫⛔👎🚫🙅‍♂️👎🚫⛔🙅‍♂️⛔ *Joe tearing his throat up for 2 solid minutes*

Pyromania

IT'S ROCK!!!!!! N ROLL!!!! BABEY!!!!!!!1!!!!1!!1!! AGAIN!!!!! 😆😆😆

the Classic Rock Fandom™ in a nutshell 😓

INTRODUCING PHIL 👌👌👌 FUCKING👏👏 COLLEN 🔥🔥🔥

betcha thought we abandoned the idea of doing a ballad didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Joe's back at it again with the edgy songs and is getting a lot better at it too

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ∆ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Gunter 🙃 Glieben 🙃 Glauchen 🙃 Globen

the most underappreciated song on this whole entire fucking list sorry I don't make the rules

Alright, WHO in this band wants to be in a porno >:C

Joe's back at it yet again with the edgy songs but it's even BETTER this time

Hysteria

Girls Girls Girls ALL WOMEN ARE QUEENS ANAKIN

🎸we!!! fucking!!! love!!!! glam rock!!!!!! and african drum rhythms!!!!!!!!!🥁

we're not furries we swear we're just kinky D: also fuck you DJs here's some false endings

we haven't made a ballad that HURTS yet so here we go (with an underappreciated bass line)

the song that invented "( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)" (AKA when you cram for a test the minute before and end up getting 100%)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)😏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)😏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

S T E V E 😭👏👏 F U C K I N 😭😭😭 C L A R K 👏👏👏😭👏😭

nooo don't shoot me you're too kinky hahaha

a song about rioting and being #punk, but the only crime the man singing it has ever committed was getting a speeding ticket when he was 19/20

oh. oh shit. oh god. holy shi- I can't believe... ...we just accidentally made the most perfect song to ever exist :o like seriously- people are achieving nirvana as we speak I'm not joking I think we went too far with the perfection this time guys

THIS SONG IS ABOUT S E X AND WE AIN'T BEING SHY ABOUT IT EITHER LET'S FUCKIN GO BABE-

Don't 👏 give 👏 me 👏 love 👏

Adrenalize

gkKLglldlflhlADKSLALLFLSS 😆😆😆

I fucking love my wife uWu

fkKMglgllsLLslgflephpGLDLPT 😆(͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)😆

We're just gonna get extremely romantic and passionate for 4 minutes and 3 seconds if that's alright with you (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

this album was the most painful thing any of us have ever had to do, so here's the most serious song we've ever done to date. Steve ✊ Fucking ✊ Clark ✊ -n-

now that our mental breakdown is over, we're gonna get extremely passionate and romantic again but for a lil longer this time aiight 🤙

one of us has a protection/ownership kink but we're not gonna tell you who

you know what this album needs? a little bit more pain

we're layin down the line (and by that we mean we want sex)

we're layin down the line pt.2 (we still want sex btw)

Retro Active

Beowulf songs are back babey 🤙

I'll say that again if I have to^

we!!! still!!! fucking!!! love!!!! glam rock!!!!! we even covered something to prove it!!!!!!

Joe has now officially mastered ballads

I fucking love my wife part 2: she's a badass top

While Joe was off mastering ballads, Phil studied the blade

We covered something else bc again!!! we fucking!!! love!!! glam!!!

We rewrote Joe's motorcycle song bc we now realize it was cringe af (and it was an excuse for Joe to talk to Ian Hunter so that made him happy)

Joe has now officially mastered edgy/serious songs

it's a total bop but oh god. No. Please. No. Oh God. No. Don't. Please. No. Pls. No. Oh god. Don't.

This should've been on Adrenalize and you can Fight Me On That

Phil studies the blade (electric version)

Joe masters ballads (electric version)

Vault (there's only one new song on here so that's all I'm doing)

babe nooooo D';

Slang

Epic edgelords part 1

Epic edgelords part 2: Phil wrote it this time

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it Volume 2: Electric Bugaloo

soft breakdown :'c

hOT DOGGITY DAMN JOE'S VOICE HOLY HELL TAKE ME N- *clears throat* I mean introducing Vivian Campbell :3 aND THERE'S A BASS SOLO MMMM 🤤🤤👌 THIS SONG IS JUST SEXY FUCKIN LIFT ME UP AND-

Phil's marriage isn't going too well

in fact, no one's marriages are going too well

severely underrated bop

We're still not over Steve's death and we never will be :c

Joe makes edgy ballads his bitch yet again 👏👏

severely underrated banger 🔥🔥🔥

Euphoria

wE STILL MAKE FAST BOPS IN CASE YOU FORGOT 🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘

Holy shit I didn't know Joe could hit a note that high

The 90s sucked for us but we'rE STILL HERE BICH 🖕

Can we pls give Sav more songwriting space on albums thx 😭💗

everyone in this band is a slutty bottom and this is the song that proves it Volume 3: Even Sluttier This Time 😏

totally different from everything we've ever done and WE 👏 MADE IT 👏 OUR 👏 EDGY 👏 BITCH

uwu but it's sad so it's actually umu

partying like it's 1999- oh wait, it actually is 1999

*hugs Viv and scREEEEEEEEAAAMMS*

Phil studied the blade and attacks you with it

*gets escorted into the back of a police car* IM GUILTY!! I'M GUILTY!!! I'M NOT INNOCENT!!! 😫😫😫

whatever edginess we couldn't fit into Paper Sun we put into this song instead

we're entering the new millennium as Kings and there's nothing you can do about it 👑🖕

X (Ten)

Stand on a balcony at sunset when you listen to this one

(insert Vizzini saying "INCONCEIVABLE" here)

the big UwU

I got ghosted and it’s actually a lot more dark and depressing than I thought also I wish I was never awake

soft and edgy and sad acoustic dads

F-U-C-K SPELLS F- I mean L-O-V-E spells love uWu

babe nOOOooO I'm sorry I suck so much DD;

this sounds like out if Work It Out and Day After Day had a kid

we're gonna have a Funky Good Time whether you like it or not 😎

E D G E L O R D S 2 0 0 2

we can't decide if we want this album to be edgy or uwu so we're gonna make it both

the same passion as Tonight but less sexy and more (you guessed it) uwu

E D G E L O R D S 2 0 0 2 P A R T 2

Betcha thought our emo phase was over didn't ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Yeah!

bops have been and will ALWAYS be something we have mastered- even if the song we're playing isn't ours

SAV'S TIME TO SHINE

betcha thought we couldn't cover a Blondie song, did ya ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Phil's just getting nostalgic about London it's fine 👍

don't worry joe's still sCREAMIN

in which we make this song a million times better than the original

WE LOVE ROXY MUSIC SO MUCH WE CANTEXPLAINWEJUSTLOVEHEMRMFLGPHPH

we're letting Joe have his moment ok just let him have this 👨‍🎤

yeah we like Free- so whAT??

okay NOW we're letting Joe have his real moment- he's been waiting for this moment ever since he was like 12 okay just. let him. have this just. this one time. pls.

in which we confuse literally everyone by making them think this is a song that we wrote

we just need ONE more bop, okay? Just ONE more we swear then we'll stop being fanboys (for now...)

we'll be right back, it's Bow Down To Thin Lizzy Hour

*Phil tearing up his throat for 4 and a half solid minutes*

Songs From The Sparkle Lounge

this one's actually kinda dark and heavy? :o

honky tonk time 🤠🤙

FINALLY ONE OF SAV'S SONGS IS THE MOST POPULAR SONG OFF AN ALBUM 🙏🙏🙏🙏😩

FINALLY WE HAVE MORE SAV MATERIAL I LOVE IT SM ;∆; !!!!

Phil's songs are severely underrated tho pls give them more attention

it's time for one (1) badass religious song and if you don't like it then you can Fuck Off kindly 🙃

This whole album is "Songs That Were Written By Phil and Viv and Sav" heaven

I think sometimes people forget that we, even as a band, are fans of the Classic Rock Fandom™ too, and we feel the same pain as the other fans :'^)🤙

Joe's three minutes of fame on this album

Joe's three minutes of fame on this album part 2

Viv's songs are severely underrated tho pls give them more attention

Mirror Ball (bonus tracks)

we grabbed fate by the balls and screamed fUCK YOU 🖕🖕

We are still Kings™ in case anyone was wondering 👑🖕

✨PHIL BELIEVES!!!! IN!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!! AND!!!!!!!!!! BELIEVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!✨

Def Leppard (Self Titled 2015)

Is this song about playing a live show? Probably. Is it also about having a fight? Is it also about angry sex? The world may never know.

Okay this one just absolutely SLAPS, periodt.

bootleg Another One Bites The Dust

*SOBBING* THEY'RE ALL SINGING LEAD I'M-

being badass, That's The Power Of Love

don't worry, we still know how to be Poetically Edgy

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm *bump bump* hooked on a feeeeling

I've Got a Spiritual Romantic Boner

Can't Keep Away From The Flame edginess gets crossed with some Zeppelin charm and badassery

someone in this band is fucking piSSED 😠😠😠😠

we're gonna @ someone tonight fellas

sAV OH MY GOD BABYYYYY 😰😰😭😭😭😭 DO YOU NEED A HUG

what if we tried to cross newer Metallica with Nickelback 🤔

what if we turned this into We All Need Christmas three years from now... 🤔

Bonus: Personal Jesus/We All Need Christmas

Viv really wanted to cover ABBA but everyone said no so he settled for cowboy goth™ instead

What better man to write a warm and fuzzy Christmas song than the warm and fuzziest man alive (Sav)

[stop-him]

I’m a Bad Fan

I like music. I love music! I love the work of many bands and musicians, in many styles from pop to abstract. But if you ask me for details about the bands, I’m not all that up on what goes on with the bands outside of the actual music they make.

Elvis, the Beatles, Michael Jackson, now their fans would obsess over every detail that could be had about their personal lives, or perhaps gather every bit of trivia about recording sessions, what the backup singers had for lunch, the exact power requirements for the mixing board at Abbey Road or whatever the heck.

But I don’t. And it’s sort of a defense mechanism.

In my youth I checked out a cassette of Road Food by the Guess Who from the local public library and really liked it. There’s one song that’s a stinker, it’s 9 minutes long at the end of the album, and the album is like 20 minutes without it, but damn if I didn’t really like all the rest of the songs. It also was very hard to get on CD. At first there was only a Japanese edition that was outrageously expensive to get. Then there was a reissue that crammed it on a single CD along with another Guess Who album. Both these CDs were flawed - the former has tracks out of order and the latter was mastered badly, compressed to distortion. So I contented myself with the vinyl copy I’d bought much earlier - until a third reissue was released from a company that appreciated the material enough to do a better job at it. That one I got. The audio quality is lovely.

The CD booklet, however, contains a recounting of the condition of the band during the recording of this particular album, and it’s a story of a band in decline. Substance abuse was compromising a member or two. The lead singer and songwriter Burton Cummings had issues that led to disagreements and resentments among other band members, and was reportedly obsessing over the idea of having another hit song to boost the band’s career. Hearing a bit of a warm-up jam the guitarists were doing, he pounced on that, and the song eventually became Clap for the Wolfman, a novelty hit based around Wolfman Jack that did pretty well - but its unofficial title before all this was Napoleon’s Blues, which was a mocking reference to Cummings’ own self-important swagger.

Having read that, half the time I listen to the album I think about the band, falling apart, cracking at the seams, where before I just enjoyed the music.

In the mid-late 80s I bought my first Wire album, The Ideal Copy, and fell in love with the band. It’s a unique blend of art-pop, post-punk, europop - I don’t think there’s any other band that was doing things quite like Wire did them in the 80s. The Ideal Copy remains one of my all-time favorite albums, in the top 5 if not the top 3.

But if you’re hungry for details about the band, you could read Everybody Loves a History, a book about Wire’s trajectory from punk band to art-pop to technopop back to raw rock and on and beyond. And you could read how the band was going through some hard times. The drummer was dismayed by the artificial sequencing being used, and considered quitting. Another member did quit, halfway through recording the album, and only rejoined after the record was released, feeling duty-bound to tour for the album. None of the band members expressed any love for the album or the session that created it. Where once I just enjoyed the music, after reading the book I now know the album was a source of stress for at least half the band.

I like all three albums by Soul Coughing, and my favorite is El Oso. The band has long since broken up, but I never knew why. Lead singer Michael Doughty went on with a solo career, and YouTube just recently pushed a video at me of Doughty talking at one of his shows, where he starts detailing how he was marginalized in his own band, how he emotionally checked out, would drop his vocal tracks by himself in the studio and then leave and let the rest of the band work out the music--

I stopped the video and went to some other web page entirely. I don’t want to know any behind-the-scenes details about the bands I like anymore. I don’t want the music I love to carry around a sour aftertaste for the rest of my life.

[yanabortnik]

YANA BORTNIK ( FIVEL STEWART ) is a 17 year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. SHE is originally from MARQUETTE, MICHIGAN but moved to Broadripple 3 YEARS ago. SHE is AMBITIOUS and DISCIPLINED but can also be CONDESCENDING and CRITICAL.  

BASICS

Name: Yana Mikhailovna Bortnik

Age: 17

Grade: Junior

House: Keough

Cabin Room: Room 3

How long have they been at Broadripple: 3 years

Where are they from originally: Marquette, Michigan

Extra curricular: Soccer, Speech and Debate, SWAT,  and Women of Broadripple,

PINTEREST

CHARACTER AESTHETICS

Frothy matcha lattes, a furrowed brow, bargain bin arts & crafts, the strong smell of incense, palms pressed against the bark of a tree, late night cram sessions, an old scuffed pair of crocs, vanilla yogurt topped with berries, a small collection of crystals, a grass-stained soccer ball, monochromatic outfits, a small plain Kamidana, a backpack stuffed to the brim, a folder filled with school assignments graded with anything less than an A, a smattering of freckles across a nose, nervously bitten nails, a meticulous daily planner, and a furby meme-filled album on an iPhone.

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: Responsible, patient, ambitious, resourceful, loyal, organized, and self-disciplined

Neutral Personality Traits: Cautious, realistic, practical, methodical, business-oriented, serious, and suspicious

Negative Personality Traits: Sensitive, know-it-all, expects the worst, nosey, cheap, and rarely satisfied

FACTS

Yana is from Marquette, Michigan—a friendly, scenic, and cold place on the Upper Peninsula. Her mother is originally from Japan and moved to the United States to attend university and she stayed after she met Yana’s father. Yana has an older brother, Mikhail (Misha), who was born in New York, but then a job opportunity cropped up for her father that brought the family halfway across the country and dumped them in Michigan.

Yana’s parents are hardworking, no-nonsense, and both functioning alcoholics. Yana and Misha’s upbringing was, as a result, a little distant and sanitized, and has led Yana to push herself as far and hard as she can in order to feel like she has done something right by them. But mostly, not much she can do catches their attention.

Enter: Broadripple Academy in her google search for “top prestigious boarding schools grades 9-12.” Yana dedicated the entirety of eight grade to cramming for the entrance exam and convinced at least half a dozen of her teachers to send letters of recommendation or to help her with the application. While the Montessori school she attended wasn’t bad per se, it didn’t have the stature a place like Broadripple Academy did. It was a ticket to a great college, to a great future, and maybe like… a hearty pat on the back from her dad or a congratulatory hug from her mom????

She paid all the fees with money she made from babysitting over the previous two years, forged her parents’ signatures (as she was accustomed to), and her parents didn’t find out she had even applied until she got the acceptance letter. Their reaction was, as per usual, lackluster. They condescendingly thought it was cute that she had done all this on her own, bragged to their friends about how they helped her get in, and then in the fall Yana was shipped off.

What motivates Yana is not perfection but success, and it does have the habit of driving her up the wall sometimes but that is just the kind of sacrifice she has to make in order to fulfill a goal. She is very future-oriented in that when she first arrived at Broadripple she had a bit of a I’m Not Here To Make Friends outlook (though undoubtedly made 2-3 really close friends within the first couple months and has assumed her role as Mom Friend yes hello these are wanted connections).

Her dad is an atheist but her mom practices Shinto and used to be a Buddhist. When Yana and Misha were young, she really immersed them in both religions. They sporadically attended Lake Superior Zendo back home until Yana was about twelve and they still perform Shinto prayers at home at a Kamidana.

She is really dedicated to their studies and heavily side-eyes everyone who doesn’t take school seriously. Like, guys don’t you realize how lucky you are to be here!!! 

HEADCANONS

Back home, Yana has a pet ferret named Pasha. If you are a friend of hers, you know everything about him from the little snuffling sounds he makes while he sleeps, his favorite treats, and the “walks” through the park that Yana takes him on when she’s home. He is her baby and she misses him. </3

Yana is quite... economical (i.e. cheap as hell). Her brother made her a tie-dye shirt that says ‘Dollar Tree Prom King 2008′ (an inside joke). She really values independence and money = independence, y’know? It’s just another thing she doesn’t have to worry about bothering her parents for, so she works at a restaurant and babysits almost nonstop whenever she’s home so she has spending money while at school.

Which reminds me that she feels like an awful daughter for literally no valid reason. That’s just what checked out parents do to you, I guess. :/

Though she’s a very serious person the things she finds funny are usually bizarre, nonsensical memes and she particularly loves furby ones, especially the long furby blessed be his name etc etc. 

She has a small crystal collection that she uses for things like concentration, energy, calmness, self love, etc. Does she sincerely believe they do anything? I’m gonna go ahead and give it a 50/50. She does enjoy the ritual of charging them and doing full moon stuff. Who’s down to bask in the moonlight???

When not wearing the school-regulated Oxfords or her standard pair of white sneakers Yana is, in fact, wearing a pair of light blue crocs. They’re comfy, okay!!! Also fashion-wise, she does wear a lot of monochromatic outfits. If you go to her Pinterest page that I linked above you’ll see what I mean. Nothing too weird just like, a Brand.

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat? Yana is someone who feels her goals are in danger and/or inconvenienced by the Retreat. She very much wants to be at Broadripple and she’s going to be worrying about her GPA and missed opportunities from not being on campus. It makes her uneasy and she’s anxious to get back tot he dorms.

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors? She was in the Girl Scouts when she was a kid and attended Girl Scout Camp for a couple weeks for a few summers, but other than that her family’s connection to the outdoors was pretty regimented in religious ceremony a lot of the time. But she did grow up with a lot of people in Michigan who camped and did outdoors-y stuff, so she picked up one small things but nothing that would be very useful at the Retreat.

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space? Yana isn’t a neat freak by any means but she does value organization. She has her crystals laid out on her bedside table (they are usually on her desk back in the dorm), a couple sticks of incense, and her clothes are all neatly folded and put away. She has designated a spot beside her bed for all her school stuff, and then she has a framed photo of herself and her brother propped up nearby (see here). She also has a tote bag of like, cheap crafts supplies to do in her “downtime” as a form of chilling lmao. She had more miscellaneous decorative stuff back in her dorm that she didn’t bring.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree? In a sense, yeah, depending on your definition of what is or isn’t supernatural. Going to take a direct quote here but: “informed by Shinto beliefs around notions of animism — a soul (“reikon”) lives within all existence and phenomena. Everyday things — from objects to plants to mountains — can be defined as ‘kami’ or deities.” So in a sense that she believes in deities, yes. But monsters? Cryptids? Ghosts? Not really.

Are they easily spooked? Actually, yes asdkjn. She’s just very verrrrrry jumpy. It doesn’t take much to startle her honestly.

AND FINALLY,

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

you will sacrifice yourself for someone else

your one of the purer hearts of broadripple, you may not even know the person you sacrifice yourself for that well but you think its the right thing to do. and maybe it is. but would they do the same thing for you?

genuinely didn’t expect it tbh! but aw

[aeneidpdf]

big sky country

chapter: 3/?

word count: 4.3k+

summary: they set out for Niagara Falls, and stop for lunch at Becket Quarry.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394804/chapters/59282086

They got through the checkout line quickly, and then they were back in the van- Pete in the back, Ray and Art in the middle seats, and Abraham and Collie up front. Abraham fiddled with his phone, pulling up the directions to Niagara Falls while Collie popped in the first of the Johnny Cash CDs that Pete had bought.

It was the American IV: The Man Comes Around album. Johnny Cash’s voice came over the speakers, saying: "And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw, and behold a white horse."

“Great,” Abraham said. “A song about judgement day to start our trip. That’s not a bad sign at all.”

“It’s just a song,” Ray said.

“Ray’s right,” Pete added, lazing in the back row. “No need to worry yourself, Abe. Geez, good thing it wasn’t God’s Gonna Cut You Down or we never would’ve gotten this thing off the ground.”

In the side mirror, Art could see a hint of a grimace on Abraham’s face, but Collie was laughing and asking him to start the directions. Over top of the music, came the canned voice of the maps app: “Turn right to merge onto Maine Turnpike toward I-95. In 55 miles, keep left on I-95 South.”

Collie whistled low through his teeth. “Shit. Fifty-five miles.”

“Better get a move on!” It was Pete, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Lot more where that came from.”

Collie didn’t answer that, and they pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the Maine Turnpike. Art didn’t quite know what he thought about the song, but he felt like he was on Abraham’s side. He didn’t practice much now, but he was raised Baptist, and his family had been heavily involved in the church down home in Louisiana, until they moved. They’d found a new church when they moved up to Maine. Art had been baptized in Highland Lake, just a thirty minute drive out of Portland, when he was eleven.

He had stood in the water that came up nearly to his armpits, his clothing floating loose around him and the marshy bottom of the lake swirling and tugging at his feet. It was a bright hot day in early May, but the water was cold, and the look in the minister’s eyes was serious. Art had been scared then. He wanted to turn tail and run back to his mother. But his mother and father and aunt and uncle were watching with bated breath, and his siblings were waiting on the shore, their shoes and socks shucked off and tossed aside. They were watching him too, and waiting for their turn. He was the oldest now; he had to be brave.

Art had then been dunked under the water and he resisted the urge to thrash against the strong hands that held him. The lake water wrapped around him and engulfed him like a coffin. He was drowning. He had forgotten to take a breath before the minister submerged him, and now he was drowning. He thought of another body, rotting in standing water, and bubbles expelled from his mouth in a mad burst as he let out a soundless scream. Finally, he was hauled up by the collar of his starched white dress shirt, and he came up breathless and temporarily blinded by the sun, while his mother cheered hysterically on the shore.

Thinking of it now still made him feel like he was going to be sick.

Even more than religion though, his life was ruled by superstition.

Superstitions were as sure as summer storms and waves of summer heat rising up from the cracked and melted asphalt. The whole south was steeped in superstition, and the Baker family was no exception. Superstition worked its way into the practices and customs of every season. On New Year’s, they ate black-eyed peas and collard greens for good luck and money. In fact, that was what they ate nearly all year round, because that was what they could afford.

The Baker children went around town with dimes strung around their necks to ward off the devil, and whenever his mother opened a new loaf of bread, she threw the first end slice in the garbage. “To keep money comin’ our way,” she explained when Art asked about it. Art watched, forlorn and hungry, as she tossed the bread into the garbage. Money never seemed to come their way.

In the summer, when the alligators came out of hibernation and the humidity floated off the wetlands and settled heavily over everything, Art was warned about alligators climbing out of the bayou and slithering under his house. Those meant there would be a death in the family soon. Art always took the stairs up and down the porch two at a time, frantic to get away from the monster hiding under the house, waiting for the perfect moment to snap at his ankles and drag him under.

There weren’t any alligators in Maine, but Art still sometimes dreamed of one, lying in wait for him, red eyes glowing out of the darkness. He shuddered imperceptibly at the thought.

Would a song ruin their whole trip? No, but a part of him still felt apprehensive.

Outside the window, South Portland disappeared, and they were on the Maine Turnpike, heading south. The song had changed, and Hurt was playing now. Over the van’s speaker system, Johnny Cash’s voice sang: “What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end.” The guitar melody built behind his voice in a way that made Art’s chest tighten. It rose in a crescendo and then disappeared as the next verse began.

“Have any of you heard the original of this song?” Ray asked.

From behind them, Pete answered, “Yeah. Nine Inch Nails. It’s good, but, you know, it’s not this.”

“I’d be fucking pissed if I wrote a song and then found out Johnny Cash did a cover of it,” Collie said.

Abraham laughed in the passenger seat. “Of course you’d be pissed.”

“Well, yeah! You write a song about some personal shit, and then Johnny Cash comes along and sings it and makes it a hundred times better. How would you feel?”

He thought for a moment and shrugged. “Shit, yeah. I guess I’d be kinda mad too.”

“You guys are thinking about it the wrong way,” Art said. “Imagine getting a call that Johnny Cash wants to record your song? That’d be exciting. That’d be an honor.”

He could see Collie looking at him in the rearview mirror, his eyes creased with his smile. “I guess that’s right.” It made Art smile too, and duck his head.

“It’s a good thing you’re on this thing with us, Art,” Abraham said, twisting around in his seat to face him. “It’s a good thing at least one of us isn’t an asshole.”

“Hey!” Pete protested. “Ray’s not an asshole.”

Ray snorted, and said, “Thanks, Pete.” Abraham twisted back around in his seat. The song changed. Art looked back out the window.

///

In a half hour, approximately forty miles into their journey, they passed a sign saying that there was a  toll plaza in four miles.

“Alright,” Collie said, turning the music down a few notches. “Who brought cash for tolls?” Silence answered him. Art had completely forgotten that they’d even need to pay tolls. “Jesus, nobody?”

“There’s a rest stop coming up on the right,” Abraham told him, reading the road signs as they zoomed past. “There’ll be an ATM there. We can take some cash out there.”

A couple miles down the road and they pulled into the rest stop. The parking lot was mostly empty as they all piled out of the minivan. The rest stop was a small building with a dramatically slanting roof and the front was mostly covered over with windows. Out front was a Smokey the Bear statue with a sign next to him proclaiming the fire danger in the area for today. The risk was low.

“I say we each take out $20,” Abraham suggested. “That should be good to start out, right?”

“I think so,” Ray said, looking like he was deep in thought. “After this, we’ve got a toll to get on the New Hampshire turnpike, and a shitton of them in Massachusetts. Once we’re west of New York, I have no clue.”

“Geez, you’re like a walking road map,” Pete said admiringly. Ray ducked his head. “We can spend whatever leftover cash we have on food and stuff.”

The group turned and headed towards the rest stop. Art followed, but Collie caught his arm and held him back. Art looked down at the hand and then into his friend’s face. Collie dropped his hand quickly.

“Art, if you want I can take out money for both of us,” he offered, his face flushed like he was embarrassed. “You don’t have to take out the $20 if you don’t want to.” Art heard the implication there. He meant: “if you can’t.”

Now it was Art’s turn to feel embarrassed. It brought him back to being a kid, and not being allowed to go to birthday parties because he couldn’t afford to rent the bowling shoes or the roller skates. It brought him back to eleventh grade, when they all got their driver’s licenses and started to go out to eat on the weekends and pass late nights crammed into diner booths. Pete had always pulled him aside and offered to pay his way for him. Pete always looked at him with a kind and earnest look in his eyes, and shame always rolled around in Art’s stomach like a hot coal.

He felt it now, rolling around in his stomach and pressing down on the back of his neck, forcing him to look down at his shoes. Collie was bouncing from one foot to the other, looking back at the rest stop every so often. The others were probably already crowded around the ATM, wondering what the hell was wrong with them.

“It’s alright, Collie. I can pay my own way. I have some money saved up,” he answered, finally looking back up at Collie. “Besides, it’s not like any of us have a ton of money.” Sickly he thought: there’s a big difference between being middle class and being poor. He knew that, and he knew Collie knew that. For a second, he thought Collie was going to say it, but mercifully, he didn’t. He just patted Art on the back, and the two of them walked across the parking lot to the rest stop.

///

Once they had finished at the rest stop, Collie had a modest stack of twenty dollar bills in his hand. The twisted the key in the ignition and the van rumbled to life. They pulled easily out onto the highway.

It was still only 9:30 in the morning, and the only traffic was huge semi-trucks carrying goods and produce across state lines. They rose up around the minivan on all sides, dwarfing it. Art figured the traffic would be heavier once they got closer to Boston. The route that Pete had devised had them driving within thirty miles of the city before veering off west into New York. Abraham’s phone estimated they wouldn’t reach Niagara Falls until 5:00 in the evening.

Their Johnny Cash CD had just restarted, and Abraham was shuffling through the other ones Pete had bought as Collie pulled up to the tollbooth. The toll only cost $3.00, and he handed the woman working in the booth a twenty with what looked like an apologetic smile. She gave him his change, the bar lifted, and they drove on.

“She probably thought I was a dick, paying with a twenty,” he mumbled to himself, sticking the change in his cup holder as he continued down I-95 South. Over the radio, Johnny Cash sang: “Whoever is unjust let him be unjust still. Whoever is righteous let him be righteous still. Whoever is filthy let him be filthy still. Listen to the words long written down, when the man comes around.” It was the song that had played when they first left the Target back in South Portland, the song that had made Abraham nervous. It made Art nervous, too. The upbeat guitar playing underneath it only served to remind him of his father, playing hymns on the back porch in Louisiana. The songs were always happy, but they said such horrible things.

He wondered if Abraham still thought the song was a bad sign. He wanted to ask him, but couldn’t bring himself to do it, in the car, in broad daylight. It seemed like the sort of thing where, if you admitted to it in the daylight, all the monsters and all the bad luck in the world would find you and strike you down. Better to say it in the dark, where you could hide. Art gulped- he guessed he was more superstitious than he thought.

Abraham ejected the CD, causing the music to cut out sharply. He put in the next CD, the American III: Solitary Man album. The first song on the album was I Won’t Back Down. A cover of a Tom Petty song. He noticed Collie was singing softly to himself. It made Art smile. He knew it was just the sort of song Collie would latch onto.

Ray had turned in his seat, and he and Pete had their heads together, putting their playlist together. Collie’s words in the Target that morning hadn’t deterred them.

“How much do y’all have so far?” Art asked, turning in his seat too to face them better.

“We’ve got like a hundred songs,” Ray answered. “All sorts of stuff.”

“Wow,” was Art’s only response.

“I think once we add a bit more we’ll be done,” Pete added. “We’re gonna be on the road for some ninety hours. Gotta be prepared.”

Art turned back around. Not for the first time, he wondered what exactly he had set into motion. Ninety hours on the road.

They crossed over a bridge, and beneath them the Piscataqua River lazed along. Some sailboats were gliding over the surface. Art wondered what it would be like, to lay on the deck on a sailboat, warming in the sun. Maybe his friends would be there too, casting their fishing lines over the side of the boat. Art decided that would be nice.

A sign posted on their right announced that they were entering New Hampshire.

“Look at that! We’re in New Hampshire!” he gasped out.

“New state!” Abe cheered, banging on the car dashboard.

“Maybe New Hampshire will be more to your liking, Parker,” Pete teased from the backseat.

Art was excited- it had been a long time since he’d crossed the Maine state line. They finished crossing the bridge, and the Maine Turnpike became the Blue Star Turnpike. The trip felt real in a way it hadn’t before. Art hadn’t left Maine since he was a kid, and now he was going to travel across the country. He looked around him, eagerly left and right, and took it all in.

After another twenty miles of driving, they came to another tollbooth. “Christ, again?” Collie exclaimed. “Fuck Maine, and fuck Maine’s roads.” They all laughed at his customary outburst.

“I think you mean New Hampshire?” Abe supplied.

“Yeah, fuck New Hampshire, too,” Collie grumbled.

“So… so far Parker hates 4% of states. Should we start placing bets on what that number’ll be by the end of the trip?” Pete asked.

Collie ignored him and gave the man at the tollbooth a few crumpled dollar bills. Then they were through.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” Ray asked him fondly.

“Not at all,” Pete replied, and leaned back in his seat.

Art looked out the window.

///

They were in New Hampshire for only half an hour, and then they were crossing into Massachusetts. Another state to add to Art’s list. As they passed over the state line, Pete asked, in that fake earnest voice of his, “What do ya think of this one, Collie? Gonna add it to the list? Make it 6%?”

“You’re gonna get your stupid ass thrown out,” Art choked out between laughs.

“Art’s right, Pete. You’re getting yourself on my shit list,” Collie said.

“Who isn’t on your shit list?” Abraham asked.

“You know, Abe, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Hell, it’s fun to watch you get all red in the face.” Abraham grinned. Collie rolled his eyes but grinned too and kept on driving. They merged onto I-495 South, and then all the road signs began to point towards Boston.

“I was thinking we could stop and eat lunch around noon, and then switch drivers,” Pete said. His antagonistic streak seemed to be over, and he was back to examining the itinerary he’d put together for the trip.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Ray agreed.

“I like the sound of that,” Collie said.

“How you doin’ up there, Collie?” Art asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he assured, rolling back his shoulders and stretching. “But I’ll be ready to switch two hours from now.”

///

They were mostly quiet after that, just singing along to the CD playing over the radio, until they were nearing Lawrence, Massachusetts. There was an exit leading onto I-93 South, which would take them into Boston.

“Collie, can we go to Boston?” Abraham asked, looking longingly out the window, as if he could see the city’s skyline from the highway, thirty miles away. “I’ve never been to Boston.”

“Who the fuck lives in Maine and hasn’t been to Boston?” Collie asked in disbelief. “I’m not even from here and I’ve fucking been to Boston.”

“Well, fuck you. I don’t have a car, dipshit,” Abe shot back.

“That’s a shitty excuse. Just take a Greyhound from Portland into Boston,” Collie replied. “You guys have been to Boston, right? Even you, Art?”

Ray and Pete nodded, but Art shook his head. “No, I’ve never been. Until this, I hadn’t even left Maine in like eight years.”

They all looked faintly surprised at this. “Jesus, what?” Collie asked incredulously. “I’ve failed the two of you as a friend,” he said to Art and Abraham. “Once we get back, I’m taking the two of you to Boston.”

Art liked the sound of that- exploring a new city with Abraham and Collie Parker. His world seemed so much bigger than it had this morning, so much bigger than his present in Maine and his past in Louisiana.

///

By the time noon rolled around, they were nearing Blandford, Massachusetts. Boston was over a hundred miles behind them. “Pull off here,” Abraham instructed, and Collie did, and they rolled into Blandford. The welcome sign said the population was 1,233.

“There’s a park around here that’s really pretty. We should eat there,” Ray said, looking intently at his phone screen. Collie asked for directions, and Ray gave them. After a few minutes of driving they pulled into the parking lot of Becket Quarry and Collie paid the parking attendant $10. They’d already spent nearly $20, and it had only been a few hours. That stack of twenties wasn’t stretching as far as Art thought it would.

They all got out of the van and crowded around the trunk, pulling sandwiches and water bottles out of the cooler Abraham had brought. Collie grabbed one of the packs of beef jerky out of a Target bag, and then they were locking up the van and heading down the trail.

It wasn’t a far walk to the quarry, and along the path and trees surrounded them, green and leafy and tall. They reached the end of the path, and came upon the quarry. It was beautiful- the surface of the water reflected the endless blue sky overhead, and large rock faces emerged from the water and towered over it, covered over with moss and bright green foliage. There were a few different groups sitting around the quarry, but it was mostly empty- plenty of room for them to spread out and eat their lunch.

Abraham climbed one of the smaller rock formations overlooking the water and set his water and sandwich down. “We should go swimming.”

The rest of the group looked eager, excited at the prospect, but Art hesitated. “How deep is it?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a quarry, so I think the most shallow spot will still be at least forty feet,” Ray answered.

“Forty feet,” Art repeated softly to himself. That was awfully deep. It would be easy to disappear in that water and never come up again. That old panic gripped him.

The rest of them were stripping down to their boxers to swim. Abraham dove in first, and then Pete jumped in, dragging Ray with him by his hands. Collie went next, doing a cannonball and splashing the three of them in the water.

Art wished he could follow, but he imagined jumping in and sinking down down down, away from the light. Instead he took off his shoes and socks and sat at the edge of the water, his legs under it up to his mid-calves. The water was cold, perfectly refreshing for a summer day.

A few feet away, Abraham was floating on his back, and Pete and Ray splashed at him, giggling to each other like conspirators. Collie was swimming laps around them, his tanned arms glinting in the sunlight. Show off, Art thought, and suppressed a secret smile.

It made Art happy to watch him, and it felt good to bask in the sun, to feel it on his arms and his legs. It was still early June, but the temperature must have climbed past eighty degrees. It had been humid in the forest, but by the water the air felt crisp and clean.

The sun flashed brilliantly off the surface of the water, casting his friends in a harsh glare. They looked like an old overexposed photograph, or a child’s crayon-colored dream come to life. This, he thought, is what summer is.

Collie noticed him sitting on the bank alone and swam over. “You coming in?” he asked. Art shook his head. “Can you not swim?”

“I can swim,” Art answered. “It’s just… it’s too deep.” He could only see a foot or two below the water’s surface. Below that, darkness straight down. He could see Collie’s arms as he tread water, but the rest of him was obscured by the quarry water. Pete, Ray, and Abraham were just floating heads, bobbing and laughing a dozen yards from shore.

“Oh.” Collie pushed his wet hair out of his face. “I get that.” He braced his hands on the rock and lifted himself up out of the water, sitting next to Art. Art’s shirt sleeve was wet from where Collie’s arm touched his.

“You don’t have to stop swimming on account of me,” he said softly.

“Oh, it’s not on account of you,” Collie answered. “We have to dry off and eat anyways. I don’t know about the rest of them, but I don’t want to drive around for another four hours in wet shorts.”

They sat in companionable silence for a minute, Collie kicking his legs and churning up water. The droplets seemed to catch fire in the afternoon sunlight. “What bothers you about the water?” Collie asked, looking over at him. The heat of Collie’s arm was still heavy against his arm, but neither of them moved away. Art’s face burned with the proximity.

“I can’t see the bottom. I can swim fine,” Art explained. “But I don’t like it when I can’t see the bottom.” He almost wanted to add that no one knew what was down there, lurking below the reach of the sun. But that was the stuff of nightmares, and he didn’t want to seem stupid.

“We’ll have to find you a swimming pool, then,” Collie replied.

Art fixed him with a look. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No, I’m not making fun of you. I’m trying to be nice. I don’t make fun of you, you know. At least not, like, seriously.” He had a faintly hurt look in his eyes, like this was something he really wanted to get across.

Art answered that look with a smile. “A swimming pool sounds nice, then.”

“Good,” Collie said simply. He got up and walked over to where his clothes were discarded, and started getting dressed. Art averted his eyes. He called out to the three in the water, “Come on and get out now! We gotta hit the road soon to keep on schedule!”

“Don’t be so lame!” Pete shouted back, in the middle of dunking Ray under the water. Ray pushed him away, laughing.

“Dumbass, it’s your schedule,” Collie answered, sitting back down and ripping open the pack of beef jerky. “Get over here and eat your sandwiches.” The three reluctantly swam over and pulled themselves out of water, instead eating their lunch and drying under the sun. Art left his perch on the edge of the rock and went to sit with them.

They ate their sandwiches and drank from their water bottles, warming themselves in the sun and keeping an eye on the time. When it hit 1:00 PM, Collie got up and said, “Time to go, guys. Pete, you’re driving.” He tossed the keys, and Pete caught them cleanly.

“Aye aye, captain.” Pete gave a mock salute and started getting dressed. “Ray can sit up front with me. We’ll debut our playlist.”

“Can’t wait,” Collie grumbled.

As they left, Art looked back at the quarry one more time, at the murky depths and the glare it cast on the rock formations surrounding it. Then, he turned around and followed his friends through the trees.

[yayninjabob]

Author Commentary

Ramblings from Yay Ninja Bob about her monstrous creation~

Besides working on my fic, I personally try to journal every day, and I realized that a lot of my journaling has become me pretty much rambling about the process of writing this damn fic lol.  So I thought I'd share some of that for those who may want to know more behind my chapters from my author's perspective. 

It's certainly not everything I can say, but it is a lot haha..

Chapter 1 - Thirteen

Behind the title:

    Well, when I first began writing VillainR, I hadn't planned on having chapter titles at all.  Mainly because coming up with chapter titles (or titles for stories in general) has always been something I struggle with personally.  Anywho after I decided I wanted to challenge myself with chapter titles, I went back and named chapter 1 "Thirteen."  Why?  Well, it is the PpG's thirteenth birthday, of course there is that.  VillainR as a whole is many things, but one major thing is it is a coming of age story for Buttercup/Joey/Jojo, as well as a story of self-discovery.   There's a few important ages I wanted to cover and 13 is around the age where many kids start to "develop" and being a super-powered kid,  Buttercup finally begins to develop her own "special power" at this age.  I wanted this "growing pain" to be the catalyst for the events of Part One.  So, I gave the chapter the title of "Thirteen" to try to highlight the significance of that age for Buttercup. The self-discovery made at this age is that special power (although they are unaware of it at this point).  It's considered an unlucky number, and as it turns out, it is an unlucky year for our main character.

During the writing process:

     First draft was written on Halloween night 2019 and pretty much all of it was completely scrapped haha. 

     I started writing it in first person, like the original Villain, in Buttercup's POV.   I kept the events but approached it again in third person and liked it so much better that way.  One major thing I wanted to improve on with the rewrite was character development which is pretty hard to achieve when writing in a limited POV of a character who eventually loses sight of much around them.  I debated briefly on maybe doing alternating POVs between Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, but then I felt like it would still exclude a lot for other major characters like Mojo and Princess.  I could add them too but I thought alternating too many POVs would be overwhelmingly difficult (for me as the author for sure but I imagine for the reader too)  Third person seemed to be the best way to handle everything and really my only challenge with that was tweaking the whole "unreliable narrator" trope which I will be honest is my favorite trope ever. It is a challenge to try to recreate the same effect in third person, but I decided that a close third person was the best way to 1) tell a broader story and 2) still set limits on the reader's perspective, and control when and how I drop information and attempt to recreate a similar experience in an entirely new way I've never tried before heh.  (I guess I will spend more time on this on my notes for Chapter 6)

     Second draft I scribbled out in another few days with this new approach.  It began at the start of the carnival and ended where it ends.   Simultaneously I was reworking my overall outline for the fic and began to narrow down all the characters I wanted to be my key players for this epic.  Once my outline was expanded to include everyone, I added the scene with Mojo and Him.  For me, that's when I was like "Ayyy it's all coming together 👍👍" haha.

     Another thing I wanted to improve on was setting and world-building.  So final draft I decided to include some "history" behind Townsville and that's when I worked out the final draft.

    This chapter definitely had the most trial and error during the writing process than any other chapter other than 5 so far.

Inspirations:

     Townsville world-building/history - much of it is inspired by the city I grew up in (for the most part) which is Los Angeles. I mean it has all the sort of settings we've seen in the show which are all pretty diverse right?  Townville had to have a diverse cityscape ranging from a busy downtown setting to quite suburbs to upperclass mansions, beaches, an island, forests, etc.  Well I knew LA had all that and so I tried to re-imagine Townsville as basically an alternate universe LA lol. Monster Isle, I based on research I did on Catalina Island.  I imagined the Utonium household was in a middle class neighborhood like Pasadena- close to the heart of LA but still a relatively "calmer" part of the city.  Morbucks Manor would be in the Hills like Beverly Hills.  Downtown was the heart of the city like Downtown LA.  I debated briefly whether or not to have the Gangreen Gang be from an area modeled after South Central or East LA, but eventually I went with East LA because TBH I am just more familiar with it since that's where my mom's side is from and where I grew up early on in life.  PLUS East LA actually has a pretty big punk scene so that fit the story too with Ace being in a punk band and all that. 

1998 PpG Show References:

     "Oh my gosh they have giant Bunny-Bunny's at the prize tent!"

    (Super Zeroes)

Pop Culture References:

   (OK most of my pop culture refs are just punk references lets be honest lol.  Why Punk?? - because it is rebellion and rebellion is the heart of this fic)

     The Clash - OK in original Villain I established that this was Buttercup's favorite band so I HAD to have that back for the redux. Here's all the refs I crammed into chapter 1 lol:

   "Oh, Man! It's so hard to choose, like, I love literally everything by them. But I gotta say it's a tie probably between their first album and London Calling."

"Hell yeah. Jimmy Jazz is my jam."

"You know, my band does a cover of White Riot," Ace continued to talk music with the teenager as he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. He held the smoke in his lungs as he continued, "Only we call our version Green Riot."

Blondie:

     The one artist Buttercup had introduced Robin to that she instantly obsessed over was Blondie.

(Some) Symbolism:

     - Blossom is 5'9" and Buttercup is 5'8" - Buttercup is always falling one step behind Blossom.

     - Bumper Car scene - has some foreshadowing and well...

Blossom sat behind the wheel of a red bumper car at the opposite end of the metal floored rink. Buttercup crossed her arms in protest, "No way. I'm driving." she demanded.

Blossom also crossed her arms from where she sat behind the metal wheel. "So you can just rampage and crash into everybody here? No way." She fastened her seat belt with a quick snap and placed her hands firmly on the steering wheel again.

"Ugh. That's the whole point of bumper cars! It's to bump the other cars! You're supposed to try and bump everyone before the times up!"

"You always take it too far, Buttercup. I'm driving, so get in." The redhead grasped the steering wheel in her hands firmly, and refused to move.

And...

"You drive like an old lady," Buttercup shook her head in disbelief as her sister managed to avoid yet another collision.

"Well, that's your opinion," she shrugged off the insult, "Personally, I think it takes just as much skill to avoid every single car in here, as it does to hit every single car," she smiled at her sister.

And finally a brief allusion to the OG Villain lol...

"Blossom!" Buttercup shouted louder so she could get her sister's attention. She pointed at the fast approaching purple car that zoomed towards them from their right side. Behind the wheel of that car was Bubbles who wore a rather determined look on her face as Robin cheered for her.

Blossom saw, but by then it was too late. Bubbles and Robin's car slammed into Buttercup and Blossom's car at full force, spinning Buttercup and Blossom's car into the wall of the arena. The loud buzz which signified the end of the ride then sounded.

    - the roller coaster is Buttercup's ideal carnival attraction; it's got the thrills, twists, turns, ups and downs.  And makes Bubbles sick.

     - the Ferris Wheel is Blossom's ideal carnival attraction; it's a staple of any fair, grand and big, overlooks everything, and traditionally romantic

YNB's favorite scene:

     Personally, I loved writing the whole exchange between Buttercup and Blossom in the car.  Establishing their rivalry, Buttercup's jealousy over Blossom's special power and heroism, Blossom's projection of her own insecurities, their differences, and their commonality. 

Final thoughts on the chapter:

     I was pretty satisfied with how it turned out but I did wait to post it until I had a decent headstart on chapter 2.  I was pretty nervous about whether or not I could stay personally committed to writing this fic so I just wanted to make sure I was really feeling it first, lol.  It had been so long since I'd written fanfic so I just needed to be sure.

     When I outlined everything I estimated the chapter length to be around 6-7k words... And I was surprised that it was double that at about 12k.  Which was wild because on my outline each opening chapter for Part 1, 2 and 3 were supposed to be shorter and more like preludes to everything else.  Well, I guess they ARE shorter chapters but STILL definitely longer than any chapter I used to write for my multichaptered stories.   At the time I thought "Ok obviously my writing has changed but surely I wont go much longer than 12k for future chapters...."  Hurr hurr.

     Personally, I was pretty proud of myself for spending so much time on it and rewriting it over and over and all that.  In the past, TBH whatever was my first draft was pretty much also my last draft haha.  I cranked out a chapter in one sitting usually and edited it mayyyybeee lol.  I just wanted to get it posted so I could move on and get to that next point in the story.   But I suppose now that I'm older and a bit more self aware, I realize a lot of my own anxieties manifest a lot in my writing though and I can recognize it in my old works like the OG Villain where I JUST WANNA GET TO WHAT I WANT TO WRITE RIGHT NOW OK??  I forced myself to slow the hell down this time, take it one scene at a time, and when things felt off I took breaks, slept on it for a few days and came back with new approaches or ideas.   And so far that's how I continue to work on it.

   Also, CHVRCHES.  I listened to a ton of that band while working on this chapter especially.

[platinumsupa]

Diakko highschool AU maybe?

(but isn’t it already a…?

in any case! Here’s a diakko high school au! Diana may be the popular girl at school, but unfortunately for her, she’s ended up head over heels for a certain someone at the exact opposite end of the bell curve…

1700 words, so it’s a bit long, but that’s because I was having fun with it, sorry~ ^ ^;)

Diana was what people would call the popular girl. 

Student Council president, top of the class, head of theDance Squad, and she was perhaps the prettiest in school to boot, or so that’s whatpeople told her. Boys who were unaware of things often tried to ask her out, orat the very least sit with her and hope she looked their way. Every time shewould respectfully decline, which seemed to just add to her reputation as an unattainable beauty.

Akko was a new transfer student here at school. She was continuously almostbeing kicked out of the lacrosse team because she couldn’t keep her grades up,and when she wasn’t getting into very loud, fiery conversations with herteammates, she was usually getting into trouble with teachers. Last week, Diana watched ahalf-asleep Akko walk face first into a doorframe.

And Diana had noidea how to talk to this girl without feeling like a complete moron, because god, she had it bad.

How did she let it get this out of control? She really couldn’t say.

The first time Diana saw Akko, she was walking home with fellowclub members Hannah and Barbara, and they all stopped when they saw a short Asiangirl up in a tree, tangled in tree branches. And they watched, slack jawed, asthe branch broke from under her and she came tumbling down hard to the grass.

In her arms was a small black cat. In a show of gratitude toits rescuer, it clawed at Akko’s hands and took off running back home. Akkotook a moment to suck on her bleeding pinky before she finally noticed the threeof them looking down at her on the ground.

“Hi there!” She said, still on the ground. “I’m Kagari Atsuko, but everyone just callsme Akko. What’s up?”

Hannah and Barbara laughed at her, and Akko grumbled, simplystanding up and rubbing the dirt off her sleeves, watching the cat’s rapidly retreatingtail.

Diana’s heart started pounding, for some reason.

Some time later, Akko had talked back to Finnelan and landedherself an after school detention. Diana had found her alone in the classroom,not cleaning like she was supposed to. She took no notice of Diana there, becauseAkko was too singing along to an anime theme song playing through herheadphones and dancing with her mop like it was a microphone.

Diana spent all night thinking about it.

And then soon after, Diana absently looked over in Mathclass, and spent a good five minutes staring as Akko glued plastic gemstonesto her lacrosse stick in the shape of the Big Dipper. By that point, through nochoice of her own, Diana was definitelyvery interested.

Because Akko had a very cute face, not to mention such a passion in her voice, and a swagger inher step, and one would think a student in the running for some of the most prestigiousscholarships in the country wouldn’t be so stupidly useless, but here Diana was,her standards dropping like an elevator with its cables cut.

She spent a good portion of Mrs. Lukić’s science classtrying to keep her attention on the slides, and not the opposite table whereAkko was doodling in her notebook. To the point where she almost didn’t evenhear Mrs. Lukić’s announcement.

“Why don’t you all get with a partner and work through someof the problems on the board?”

Most students simply immediately went with the same friendsthey always did. Frank looked in Diana’s direction hopefully, as did Hannah andBarbara who sought to make a group of three, but Diana only had eyes for oneperson.

“So.” Diana said, standing over table. “You don’t appear tohave a partner at the moment. Allow me to help you.”

“Partner?” Akko looked up from her notebook and cocked herhead. “Wait, we’re doing group stuff?”

“You should really pay better attention. It would be problematicif you failed, especially in regard to your games, would it not?”

Akko huffed. “I don’t need you to tell me that. I can keepmy grades up just fine on my own!”

“I was not saying you couldn’t. But in any case, the teacherintends for us to work in pairs for this assignment, so…”

Akko shoved her things to the side of the table to give Dianaa place to set her own notebook down, and the blonde gracefully took her seat.She looked calm and serene, which was surprising given the frantic thoughts runningthrough her head.

It didn’t surprise either of them how begrudgingly Akko wentthrough the questions, with Diana mostly just trying to convince her of the valueof hard work as an extant concept. In about five minutes, the most they hadmanaged to accomplish was putting both their names down on top of the paper.

“I just don’t get why teachers like to cram us with allthese little assignments…” Akko said, twirling her pencil around. “I mean, sheprobably won’t even check this at the end, so it’s a little pointless, isn’tit?”

“They’re not pointless.It’s important to have practice with these concepts if you’re going to understandthem for the exams.”

“Yeah, but her instructions make no sense anyway. What even is this stupid equation she wants us todo? Like it’s all these weird G’s and x’s…how do you keep these straight?”

Diana glanced down at Akko’s notebook. Interspersed throughall the cutesy doodles, Akko had made an attemptto copy down the equations Lukić wrote on the board. Though not all of them, andwith one of the most crucial ones, she had simply stopped halfway through.

“Take this one for example, Akko.” She gestured to it. “It’sover r squared, not just over r.”

“What? But she said…”

“Here, if think of it more like this, it should make iteasier to follow.”

What happened next was mostly Diana’s fault. She neverreally did group projects, so shewasn’t even thinking when she started writing in her notebook in front of herwithout moving it. She actually had caught herself and was about to tilt thepage so Akko could actually see what she was doing, but Akko had already leanedover, unintentionally pressing their shoulders together.

(Diana’s heart was pounding again. Mother would be ashamedif she knew how weak her baby girl had become…)

“Oohhh! Is that how you’re supposed to do it?” Akko asked, eithernot noticing or not caring that she was all but leaning atop of the other girl.“That’s not how they taught it at my last school. Weird.”

“It…” Diana nodded. “I suppose I can imagine some of the…erm,letters and such and such might change depending on the…the language. That’s whyit’s important to practice, after all.”

“Yeah, but you did a better job explaining it than Mrs. Lukićdid. I guess I’ll have to remember this way for later then. Thanks.”

Akko took her notebook for a moment so she could copy downthe explanation into her own notes, and she quickly flashed Diana a gratefulsmile as she settled back into her own seat.

(oh god, her hair smelled really nice.)

“Think nothing of it,” is what Diana said at last. “…So.Aside from this, how have you been…adjusting to the new school?”

Akko simply shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. I miss my oldfriends, but I met a lot of nice people here already, so it’s not so bad. Yourguys’ lacrosse team is a lot better than my old one at least!”

“You enjoy lacrosse then?” And what a shockingly goodquestion to ask her that was, because obviously she carried the stick aroundjust for fun.

But thankfully, Akko leapt at the chance to talk. “It’s the greatestsport there is! We’re totally gonna be going to nationals soon, I’m sure of it!I’m gonna be the best player on the entire team before the end of the year.”

“That’s…a lofty goal. But it’s good to set your sights high.After all, you don’t get the things you dream of, you get the things you workfor.”

Akko gasped excitedly at the lyric. “Oh my gosh, do you listento Chariot’s albums too?!”

“I’ve…overheard a song or two, yes. I just thought it seemedrelevant to the conversation.”

Akko laughed out loud. “You know, you’re a nicer person thanI thought, Diana! We should do more group stuff together some time!”

“Oh, that would be nice. I’d really like to spend more timegetting to know you better.”

“Really…?” Akko looked at her curiously.

Diana clamped her mouth shut. The calm expression she tried to take was betrayed by the visiblyhot blush spreading across her features.

No, she couldn’t lose her calm here. Friends could want toget to know each other better too, after all. Right? And every second she sather staring silently at Akko made her look more guilty. All she needed to dowas calmly explain what she meant in that context.

“I-”

“5 more minutes!” Lukić called out. “I expect you all to haveeverything answered…”

Akko quickly snapped back to her. “Oh shoot, we gotta finishour assignment, right?”

“Right. Right, the assignment.”

Diana picked up her pencil and set to work, and after a moment,Akko tossed Diana’s notebook back with the rest of Diana’s stuff, and set to helpingher finish.

Fortunately, they managed to finish all the questions intime.

After the assignments were collected, everyone returned totheir seats. And as for Diana, she spent much of the remainder of class stewingin her own gay frustration. She must have run through the entire conversationin her head 5 times a minute, picking apart every stupid thing she said. Shewas supposed to be good at speech,how did she do so bad at talking to one person? Akko must think she’s an idiotnow.

Lukić told them to remember to bring their textbooks fornext class, and Diana moved to write it in her notebook. But she paused, lookingat the top margin.

That note written there…that definitely was not her handwriting.She looked at the note more closely. It read;

‘got a game Friday at4pm!! you should come cheer me on! :3

Akko ♪’

Diana could not stop the grin from taking over her face. Hannahand Barbara would never understand the intensity in which she stared at thescribble at the top of the page.

She spent the rest the night trying to lay the perfectoutfit out for Friday.

[rogers-sweatbands]

Where I Want to Be: Chapter 3

A Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor/Joe Mazzello!John Deacon x Original Character multi-chap.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 (x), Chapter 2 (x)

A/N: Here’s a little filler chapter. Sorry she took so long to be posted, I was just trying to set up the next few chapters in the best way possible !! I promise that the next chap will have a lot more drama !! Anyways, keep sending me your feedback ! Love to you always xoxo

Word Count: 2751

Chapter 3-

It was only 8 P.M., but Lane had already fallen asleep on her couch with a half finished cup of tea on the table beside her. The weather outside had been horrid: thunderstorms shaking her building ever since she woke up that morning. She gave herself the day to finally finish unpacking the rest of her moving boxes, having been in her apartment for more than three weeks at that point, it was finally time to complete that task. She had fallen asleep to an episode of Top of the Pops, sleep overcoming her 5 minutes into The Carpenters’ set. She probably would’ve been asleep until morning if her phone hadn’t woken her up, the ringing causing her to shoot up, her eyes blinking in surprise. She yawned quietly before walking into her kitchen.

“Hello?” She mumbled, sleep still in her voice as she rubbed the heel of her free hand against her eyes.

“Lane, love! What’re you up to this evening?” Mary asked, her voice too chipper for the state Lane was in.

“I was asleep on my couch until you called,” she chuckled tiredly. “But nothing of note. What’s going on?” Lane fought back another yawn as she leaned herself against the kitchen counter.

“The boys are recording an album tonight! Thought you might like to tag along!”

“An album? How the hell did they get that kind of money?”

“They sold Roger’s van to make it happen.” Mary laughed. “Went to a lot this afternoon and had it handled.”

“Roger must be ticked then,” Lane chuckled as she carded a hand through her hair. “Not sure if my presence will be much of a help if he’s already in a bad mood.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine! Plus, when have you ever cared about putting Rog in his place? Please come, I don’t want to be the only girl there.” Lane could hear Mary’s pout from the other end of the line. “If you come along, I’ll buy you tons of drinks the next time we go out.”

“That’s not necessary,” Lane giggled. “I guess I’ll tag along. No promises on me being awake for very long.” “Great! I’ll come pick you up in 20.”

By the time Mary and Lane walked into the studio, the boys were already deep in discussion with a recording engineer. He didn’t look thrilled to be working with some student band who appeared out of nowhere because they saw an ad in the local newspaper, but they paid him upfront and in cash so he didn’t have much room to complain. The girls settled themselves quietly on the couch at the back of the room, Deaky sending Lane a quick smile and wave before turning back to the conversation. Roger wanted to gag, seeing the way John looked at Lane and seeing the smile she gave him in response. He honestly didn’t understand it. John was so awkward, especially when he was around Lane… why did she seem to be so into him?

Deaky had almost evolved into a new person when he was around Lane. While he’d still get blushy and bashful at times, he wasn’t stammering over his words as much. They honestly couldn’t get him to shut up if they wanted to. He’d talk to Lane for hours, their conversation never ceasing as he’d attempt to make her laugh for the tenth time in a row.  He loved her laugh, thought it was one of the cutest things about her. The way her nose would scrunch itself as her lips would pull into a large smile… it was probably his favorite look on her. He found himself falling deeper and deeper into a trance when he was with her. Hours became seconds and he couldn’t wipe the smile off of his lips when she was around. Lane had a presence about her that he couldn’t explain.

Their meeting had come to a close and Roger slipped into the recording booth, ready to record the drumline for “Doing All Right.” He felt his chest tighten when he looked through the glass at everyone else. Lane’s arms were wrapped tightly around John, large grins spread across both of their faces as John talked directly into her ear, telling her something that he’d rather keep from the rest of the group. He saw her laugh, her head being thrown backward as her cascade of blonde curls followed. She shook her head at John, removing her arms from where they were wrapped around his neck only to gently push against his chest as she scolded him. He merely only chuckled in response and nudged her back, pushing one of her shoulders back causing her to fumble backwards. Roger sat at the drum kit and huffed, twirling his sticks between his fingers frustratedly.

“You ready to go, Rog?” Brian asked, pressing down on the intercom button. Roger tore his eyes away from the two of them and shifted his gaze to his friend. In all honesty, he wasn’t ready to play. He’d love to go throw his fist against John’s jaw first and get him the hell away from Lane. However, he simply gritted his teeth and nodded. At least he could channel his anger into his playing.

“Well this is a lovely surprise,” John smiled as he walked towards Lane, glad that their meeting was over so he could greet her. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

Lane stood up and embraced him warmly, standing on her toes so she could wrap her arms around his neck. “Mary invited me to come along!”

“She wasn’t going to come originally! Told me she was ‘too tired.’ I apparently woke her up when I called at 8,” Mary called from the couch, a laugh falling from her lips.

“You were already in bed when she called? You’re turning into an old maid,” John teased, his chin moving down so he could speak directly into her ear. “What’s next, shaking your fist at young people in the street?”

Lane gasped as she pulled herself away from him, shoving his chest. “Don’t you dare start with me! I am not that old! I just had a big day is all.”

John laughed at her horrified expression and pushed her shoulder, making her stumble on her feet a bit. “I was only asking.” He put his hands up in mock defense.

Lane rolled her eyes before going and returning to her spot on the couch next to Mary, crossing her arms with a huff. “I ought to give you the silent treatment if you’re going to be that big of a prick.” Her eyes narrowed in on John’s, her lips pulling into a small pout.

John paled, his mouth falling agape. “I was only teasing! I’m sorry, it won’t happen ag-”

“Love, I’m only kidding,” Lane laughed, sending him a reassuring smile. “Sarcasm suits you, ya’know. I didn’t know you were this witty.”

John turned away from her with a small smile, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He both hated and loved that she had this effect on him. “Just trying to return the favor, love.”

They had been there for hours, the clock on the wall reading half three in the morning. The boys were exhausted, trying to get everything perfect in the small amount of time they had in the studio. It wasn’t ideal, trying to cram everything into a twelve-hour period, but it wasn’t like they could afford another session. They needed to get everything done that night. They had to push through.

John had finally emerged from the booth, having just recorded the bass line for “Modern Times Rock ‘N’ Roll” for the fourth time, his eyes heavy and hooded as he attempted to blink back the sleep that was trying to overcome him. Only four and a half hours more… only four and a half hours until he could climb into bed and sleep for the entire day… only four and a half hours until he was out of that stuffy studio. He needed a cigarette, something to give him some sort of a pick-me-up that wasn’t a fifth cup of the burnt coffee from the dispenser in the corner. He slumped himself over to the coat rack, sifting through the jackets so he could go excuse himself for five minutes. However, as he searched through them, he couldn’t find his.

“Bri,” he yawned, rubbing his fists against his eyes. “Have you seen my jacket?” Brian wordlessly pointed over to the arm chair in the corner, the coat draped over Lane in a makeshift blanket as she slept. She was knocked out, her legs swung over the arm of the chair with her cheek pressed to the back of it. Her hair fell over her face in a curtain as she held the jacket over her tightly. John’s chest warmed for a moment, seeing her so at peace as she quietly slept in the corner.

“Told her it was yours when she grabbed it,” Brian explained, breaking John’s focus. “She insisted on grabbing it though… fell asleep right after you went into the booth.”

John smiled slightly as he walked towards her, sitting on the arm of the chair closest to her head. He gently pushed the hair from her face, his fingertips barely grazing her forehead as he smiled down at her. He was so used to seeing the other side of Lane, the spitfire whose mouth was always running, that seeing this side… the softer side, made his heart melt. She hummed quietly, leaning into his touch as her eyes blinked. She met his gaze with a small, sleepy smile, her eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion set in them.

“Sorry for stealing your jacket,” she apologized quietly, attempting to hold back a yawn (but failing). “I can give it back to you if yo-”

John stopped her as she shifted the coat off of her. “No, keep it. I don’t need it right now,” he reassured her, moving it so it was covering her shoulders again.

Lane sleepily nodded before shutting her eyes again, curling back up before falling back to sleep.

John stood back up and crossed to Freddie, his shoulder being used as Mary’s pillow for the last twenty minutes.

“Fred, mind if I steal a cigarette from you?” “Be my guest,” he smiled, shifting to get to his pack. “Sorry about yours being hijacked.”

John shrugged. “I don’t mind one bit.”

That statement was 100% true… even though John shivered his ass off while he smoked his cigarette outside, he was so happy knowing that Lane was curled up under it.

If you took one look at the boys when they all emerged from the studio that next morning, you would’ve thought they were all coming off a week-long bender, not getting off from pulling an all-nighter for work. They were nearly shaking with exhaustion, all of them fueled on black coffee and cigarettes alone. Everyone look disheveled as they stood on the sidewalk… well, everyone but Mary and Lane. The two girls had slept for at least a few hours, waking up when they were in their last two hours of recording for the night. However, they really didn’t look much better than everyone else.

“Well, I think we just recorded an album,” Brian chuckled before yawning. “Can’t believe we did it.”

“And you lot said it couldn’t be done!” Freddie teased, a wide smirk spread across his lips. “All thanks to my idea.”

“All thanks to my van,” Roger corrected Freddie with a large frown. “If we hadn’t sold my van we wouldn’t have had the money.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a frustrated huff.

John rolled his eyes as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ah yes, the most extreme of sacrifices. Giving up the van that you’d fuck your groupies in.”

“You’re just jealous that I-” Roger started towards the younger boy before Brian’s hands gripped onto his shoulders.

“Let’s not do this right now. We’re all exhausted, let’s all just head home and go to bed. Yeah?”

Everyone nodded in response as they muttered their goodbyes, ready to head home.

“Lane, want to walk together?” John asked her quietly with a small smile.

She nodded tiredly before muttering a quiet “yes.” She rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes before sending a sleepy wave to Mary as she and Freddie began to walk back to their shared flat.

A silence fell over the remainder of the group before Brian muttered a goodbye, leaving Roger, Lane, and John alone in front of the studio.

“John, I’m crashing with you.” Roger announced casually, sending a playful smirk to the other boy despite his visual exhaustion.

“Why’s that?” He asked flatly, too tired to deal with his bullshit in that moment.

“Your flat’s closer than mine. Won’t make it to my own before crashing.”

“It’s faster to get to yours if you take the tube,” John weakly protested.

“You want me to fall asleep on the tube then?”

John sighed as he tried to scrape his mind for another response to try and prevent Roger from coming over. However, he nodded in agreement with a large sigh. “Fine. C’mon then.”

The three of them walked along in an exhausted line, everyone too tired to say much of anything (except Roger who whined and complained every few minutes or so about having to walk so far). By the time they reached Lane’s apartment, the most she could give both boys was a small wave and a smile, muttering a sleepy “thanks for walking with me” before disappearing inside her building.

“You know, I’m pretty sure she could’ve found her building on her own at his time of day,” Roger commented as he and John began to walk the additional half block to his place. “Not sure why you insist on escorting her everywhere.”

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you this before, it’s because I’m a nice person. Maybe if you were nice to her, Lane wouldn’t have to yell at you every time she sees you. You’re a complete prick around her.”

“Nice person? More like you’re in love with her,” Roger chuckled dryly. “And I don’t need to be a nice person to get what I want from her.”

“I’m not in love with her!” Deaky snapped, whipping his head around to look at him. “And what do you want from her then? Not like she’s running to do you any favors right now.”

“Oh John,” Roger smiled. “This is a teaching moment for you then. When two people hate each other with so much passion, that passion has got to be let out at some point. She’s going to eventually crack and we’re going to end up in bed together. I give it a month tops.”

John honestly thought he was hallucinating when he heard what had come out of Roger’s mouth. There was no way that would actually happen, right? Sure, Lane hated him… but that wouldn’t mean that she would actually hate him that much.

“A good ol’ hate fuck, you know?” Roger added with a laugh.

“S-She wouldn’t,” John protested. “She’s not like that.” “Ah, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it then.” Roger smirked before winking.

And by God, John hoped he was right.

Tag List: @mimisfangirlfantasy @ceruleanrainblues @16wiishes@ayomercury @brianmaysnailpolish @bitchwilly @the-b-side @queenyezra @rogerinatrash @glasslark @harrysfetuscurls @magicwithaknife @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl

[moirasimagines]

Right Here | Chapter One {Steve Harrington x Reader}

Summary: In which Steve Harrington can’t quite see what’s been right under his nose the whole time.

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4

Halloween night hits Hawkins, and nothing goes according to plan. (Songs mentioned in this chapter are all from Pink Floyd’s album Wish You Were Here. I recommend listening to Wish You Were Here (the song, not the whole album) and the following song on the album as they are mentioned in the story! Links: Wish You Were Here: x , Shine On You Crazy Diamond Pts. 6-9: x )

Word Count: 2,923

Warnings: Language, mentions of drinking, some angst

It wasn’t that you didn’t like parties. You did–– albeit, usually on a smaller scale. Steve had tried to convince you to come, but you’d passed on it. You said it was because you didn’t want to be there if the party got busted, you didn’t like the idea of the whole high school crammed into one house, you didn’t want to get… ‘sheet-faced.’ (The pun made you want to gag.) It might’ve been a little heavy-handed to give three excuses, but your best friend didn’t seem to notice. Again, he was focused primarily on Nancy, on distracting her from whatever was getting her down. You had to admit, even you had noticed she was acting different.

It was the whole reason you didn’t want to go. This party was going to be Steve and Nancy’s thing. Even though he’d broken with his usual popular gang, he was undoubtedly going to be surrounded by an adoring public of your peers, and you didn’t feel like competing for his attention tonight, much less competing for it with his long-term girlfriend.

He, of course, still came over to show you his costume before picking Nancy up. The boy could have passed for a hummingbird, he was flitting around your basement so nervously.

“I really just want her to have fun.”

“She will, Steve. And if she doesn’t, it’s not on you. You can be there for her and try to have a good time; but ultimately, if she’s not up for it, you can’t change that.” He plunked down next to you on the couch, dragging a hand through his hair. You tried not to notice. (It looked good. Really good.)

“I guess. I just… she needs a break. She deserves to just let go and be a teenager for a night, you know? There’s only so much longer we’re gonna be able to, like… do that.” He was right. You’d both turned 18 since junior year, and you could feel ‘adulthood’ looming over you. The college process, too. Who needed a Halloween party with that constant terror every day? You sighed and stood up in front of Steve, leaning forward to put your hands on shoulders.

“Listen,” you said, jostling him a bit, “if you’re miserable this whole party, she’s gonna be miserable too. Okay, dummy? So just lighten up a little.” He snorted a laugh.

“Fuck. You’re right.” You smiled and let go of him, padding over to the fridge.

“I’m always right.”

“Uh, I’d beg to differ. What about––”

“I’m holding two beers right now, you want me to make it one?” Steve didn’t continue. You spun back around with a triumphant smile.

“That’s what I thought.” You popped the caps off and handed him one, settling back down onto your couch. Steve was headed out in about a half hour so the two of you just shot the shit until he had to go. It was nice to have a little moment with him, the Charlie Brown special playing in the background. A small halloween celebration with the person you wanted most to share it with.

Finally, he stood up to go, thanking you for the pep talk. He was sure Nancy would have a blast. As the door shut behind him, you started feeling a little forlorn. Your friend Margot was coming over to hang out with you though, and that made it easier to bear. She lived a few towns over where you grew up, and you were looking forward to just checking out for the night and catching up with her. You knew you’d end up telling her about Steve, but it would be better to talk about it than just suffer in silence.

When Margot arrived at your house, you greeted her with a giant hug and a squeal. She laughed and pulled you in close. She was still one of your best friends, even if you didn’t live close. The phone bill could probably attest to that.

“Happy Halloween, hot stuff!” Margot exclaimed, swinging you back and forth in the embrace.

“Thank you for coming over babe,” you said, “I hope you didn’t turn down any good parties or anything.” Margot rolled her eyes at this, but smiled at you.

“As if any party is better than spending time with my best friend.” She pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag, jiggling it in her fist. “And a little bit of the devil’s grape juice,” came the afterthought. You laughed and took her hand, dragging her to the basement. You’d pulled out a few records to play while you guys talked. Some funky stuff, to at least give you some kind of Halloween-y feeling. You put on Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars by David Bowie and opened up the wine, pouring each of you a healthy amount while Margot settled herself into your couch. When you sat beside her, she lifted her glass.

“May we never have to go through anything more horrific than high school. Ghouls and spooks included,” she offered as a toast.

“Amen,” you replied with a sigh. The two of you spent the first hour of Margot’s visit catching up, talking about school, how heinous college applications were, which classes you liked and which ones made you want to scream. Soon, the album was over, and you’d long since finished your drinks. Neither of you bothered to put on another record, electing to just talk. As more time passed, the buzz died down. Margot kicked her legs over your lap, laying out across the couch.

“So,” she said, “real talk now.” You raised an eyebrow at her. She just grinned. “When are you gonna fuck big hair boy? Have you already done it? I feel like you’ve been pining forever and last time we talked, you said he and his girlfriend were fighting a lot, so… spill! Come on!” This made you laugh, albeit a little half-heartedly.

“No, um… They worked it out. Or at least I think they’re trying to. I didn’t… I never told him anything. I mean, it wouldn’t have been fair to him. And I was never really sure about how I felt, so––”

“Bullshit. Y/N, that’s utter bullshit and you know it. I mean, props to you for like, respecting his space, but this has gotta be driving you absolutely fucking crazy. I mean, don’t you think you’d feel better if you just got it off your chest? He’s a big boy, he can handle it.

“I don’t know, Margot. I’ve been fine. I mean it sucks, but it’s fine. And he’s been my best friend since we moved here. I don’t know what I’d do if I lose him. And his name is Steve, so.” She waved a hand dismissively.

“Okay, first of all: you’re not fine. This is killing you. I can tell because I’m your best friend.” She said this last part pointedly, giving you a look, though you could tell she was teasing.

“I’m allowed to have more than one, you know,” you countered. She laughed.

“I’m just messing with you,” she said fondly, “and I’m only bothering you about this Steve guy because you’re obviously in love with him.”  She arched an eyebrow at you, expectant look on her face. You sighed, not replying, and looked away.

Margot stood then, and sighed, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “You know what you need? Some Pink Floyd. This way, you can just stop thinking about it for a while. Just an hour, okay? You’re beating yourself up over this and it sucks.”

She walked over the the record player and loaded up your favorite album, Wish You Were Here. You both loved it, and it was trippy enough that you could listen to it and just let your mind go blank. As the first few notes began to play, Margot laid down on the floor, motioning for you to do the same. It had become something of a ritual between you two; heads just barely touching, eyes closed, letting the music wash over you. After a while, it started to work. You weren’t thinking about Steve, or about school, about how his date at the party with Nancy was going, or what you were going to do if you moved out of Hawkins and left him and Margot behind.

Before you knew it, the synths were fading out, and your ears were soon met with the clicking sound that meant the record was over. You could hardly even remember getting up to flip to side B. Somehow, it hadn’t broken the spell the music put over you. Margot turned her head and smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your upside-down forehead before sighing and sitting up. She checked her watch and groaned.

“I should get going. I told my parents I’d be home by one am which, by the way, I am shocked they agreed to.”

“Yeah, wow. Are you good to drive? I know it’s been a little while, but...”

“No worries, babe. It takes an hour for your system to process a drink. And it’s been, like, three hours. I’m absolutely fine. See?” She spread her arms out and touched her first two fingers to her nose the way they did on cop shows. “Clean as a whistle.”

“Okay. I’ll call you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You both stood, and Margot pulled you into one last hug before walking to her car.

“Take care of yourself, Mother Theresa,” she called from the window.

“You too, Debbie Harry.” Margot laughed, blew you a kiss, then drove away. You watched her car disappear and went back inside, padding to the basement.

It was always good to see Margot. Being around her made you want to be your best self. Unfortunately, that caused a little internal conflict within you. She had been right. This thing with Steve was starting to suffocate you. As much as you were afraid admitting your feelings would ruin your friendship, the way you felt now certainly wasn’t doing it any good. Maybe the honesty would be a balm. He could hear you, process it, and you could both get back to your lives. Hearing it aloud would help. You’d get a concrete answer from Steve and you’d stop letting yourself dwell on it.

You put on another Bowie album (Scary Monsters this time) and plopped onto your couch, hugging your knees to your chest. The plan was a good one logically, but it did nothing to lift the weight you felt in the pit of your stomach. It was a big step, but it would help. You were sure of it. It had to. You couldn’t just keep sitting on your hands. After the record’s A side ended, you decided to stop listening to music and put on the TV instead. You needed something to quiet your mind. Numb it, even. You barely watched the middle of some unheard of horror flick, and when that didn’t help, you gave up and put on Wish You Were Here again. In the middle of Welcome to the Machine, you started to hear a faint knocking from above.

Glancing at the clock, you realized it was nearing 2:30 in the morning. It was probably Steve, come to tell you what a success his night had been, thanks to you. Tonight wouldn’t be the night you told him. He deserved a break from the drama for at least a week. When you got upstairs and opened your kitchen door, you were shocked to find Steve crying. This wasn’t something anyone saw often. Not even you.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, reaching for his hands, “what happened?” Steve didn’t meet your eyes. He was looking everywhere else: at the ground, at his shoes, your bare feet, your hands clasping his.

“Nancy got blasted at the party,” he said, a hint of venom in his voice. “She said she didn’t love me, that we were pretending. That it was all bullshit. She kept saying that over and over again, that it was all bullshit.” Your brow furrowed. You’d had no idea Nancy felt this way. Evidently, neither had Steve. Even if she’d been totally drunk, this didn’t sound like something anyone would say lightly. You looked at Steve’s face, and he finally returned your gaze. His lips were pinched with hurt, his brow knit together.

“I’m so stupid,” he said, another tear slipping down his cheek.

“Hey,” you said firmly, “no. You are not stupid.” You wiped the tear away with the knuckle of your index finger. He scoffed, and you knew it was directed not at you, but himself. “Stop it,” you murmured, “don’t do this to yourself right now, just… Just let me be here for you, okay?”

Steve said nothing for a moment, and then nodded, reaching to pull you in for a hug. You fit snugly under his arms and took a breath, holding him tightly. As you rubbed his back you couldn’t help but think that if the circumstances were different, you’d have been content to stand there like this forever.

The last swell of the guitar riff at the end of Have a Cigar floated up the stairs from your basement and you reluctantly pulled away.

“Come downstairs with me,” you said gently, “we’ll just sit and listen to music. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. There’s a really good song about to come on. It always makes me feel better.” You looked up at him for an answer. Steve gave a half nod and followed you to the basement.

Wish You Were Here began softly as you sat down on the couch, patting the space next to you. Steve sat heavily beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“This sucks,” he mumbled.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You squeezed his knee, feeling more comfortable now that you were in slightly more familiar territory. You’d moped together on this couch before. “Just listen to this song, okay?” Steve simply nodded. The lead guitar started, and you felt him lean into you slightly. It was like he was deflating. You hated seeing him so hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to soothe the pain.

Absently, you let your thumb brush against the side of his knee. A smile spread across your lips when the lines leading up to your favorite lyric resonated throughout the small room. You turned your head so you were looking at Steve, and sang softly along, jostling his knee to the rhythm.

“We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl…”

You trailed off, letting Roger Waters finish the line for you. Steve was smiling, now. It wasn’t without a twinge of sadness, but you were content that you’d made him feel at least a little bit better. With a final affectionate squeeze to his knee, you returned your gaze to the wall ahead of you. Steve kept looking at you. You could feel his eyes on the side of your face, and you turned your head again.

“What?” you asked, voice only a whisper. Steve didn’t answer. Slowly, he began to lean in, eyes searching yours for permission to do what you’d longed for him to do for months now, if not more. The thought alone made your breath hitch, and you inhaled sharply, letting your eyes flutter shut.

You couldn’t do this.

You opened your eyes again, and Steve’s face was so close to yours you could feel his breath against your cheeks. His eyes were closed now, awaiting your decision. His nose nearly brushed against yours as he canted his head to the side, leaving himself vulnerable to you. Your heart ached in your chest. It would be so easy. All you had to do was let your lips connect with his. Heat rose in your stomach and travelled up until it coiled around your neck. With a shaky breath, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, hands laying on his chest, keeping him at bay.

“We can’t,” you whispered.

“Y/N…”

“We can’t. I know that… that tonight was rough, but things might not be over between you and Nancy and I can’t––” Tears were spilling down your cheeks. “Not like this,” you said, “It can’t be like this.”

Steve opened his eyes and immediately took your hands in his when he saw that you were crying. The slow sweetness of the previous song ended, and the sounds of rushing winds and an eerie baseline began to fill your ears.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, “don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” You shook your head, not ready to open your eyes, and slipped your hands out of his. It was getting harder to breathe and you stood up without looking at him, swiping your sleeve across your eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

“Uh… I think you should go, Steve.”

“Y/N, wait––”

“No, it’s… It’s okay. I just need to get some sleep, uh–––” Your voice shook and the tears kept coming. “Can you, um… Can you just turn the record player off? I need to–– I just need to go to bed.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to––”

“No, you didn’t–– It’s not your fault, uhm…” you sucked in a breath, “I just really need to go.”

And with that, you turned and ran up the stairs, leaving Steve alone on your couch, stunned, and afraid that he’d lost you for good.

[all-the-love-harold]

The Daily Anna - Chapter 1

So the link broke and I don’t know how to fix it so I’m just posting this again. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you thought, feedback really helps xxx 

Master Post 

The Daily Anna.

11th April 2018.

Hiya!

 In the last few days a lot of new faces have joined us on here and I thought I’d take the time to introduce myself to them, so if you’ve been here for a while, come back tomorrow for some new content (or stay and read this anyway, up to you) and if you’re new here, welcome!

 Incase you haven’t already guessed, my name is Anna and I post on this blog daily, I don’t know what it is that’s drawn you to this little corner of the internet, but I hope you find it a warm, welcoming place for you to escape the harsh realities of the outside world. There isn’t really any theme to this blog, It’s just a record of my life, which I assure you is nothing special.

 I’m a 24 year old, originally from Manchester, but loving every minute of living in London. This blog is my not-so-secret diary, where I share all of my thoughts and feelings about whatever is going on in my life, and some days the posts can be incredibly deep and self reflexive, others they’re about stupid things like that cat I saw on the the walk from my flat to my best friends, one day I might even post my super secret brownie recipe (although I doubt I’ll ever do that because brownies are the only way I know how to make friends and if I share that recipe on the internet then I’ll be friendless again, so if that ever happens call 999 because there is definitely and emergency). You’ll also get a lot of content that relates to music, I have always been a music fan, so expect song recs and playlists as well as concert reviews and minor (Major) fangirl moments.

 I’m not going to pretend that I have a lot of advice to offer you, but I hope that by sharing my experiences and the little hacks that I’ve learnt along the way that we can all learn a little from each other.

 Before I sign off, I’d just like to add that this blog is a Safe Space, for me and for everyone that reads it, so if you have any nasty comments, please keep them to yourselves, that kind of negativity is not welcome here.

 That’s about all I have to say for now, you’ll learn more about me along the way and I hope to get to know you a little bit about you too. I always read the comments on my posts, so please feel free to  introduce yourself under this one, and I’ll get around to replying to as many as possible as soon as I can.

 Yours sincerely, Anna. xx

 ***

Anna’s life was a mess. An absolute mess. Sure, her blog made it like look like she had everything together, but in reality, she felt like everything was falling apart.

It had all started a couple of weeks ago when her friend, Charlotte, who truly was one of her best friends, asked her how she felt about giving up her job and her degree to start blogging full time. It was a big decision that she couldn’t take lightly, she hated her job, but the money was good and what kind of loser didn’t have a degree these days? She was 24, she should have graduated years ago, but she’d taken time off and changed university’s and what should have taken her 3 years had so far taken her 6 and she still had one one to go. But what charli was offering was a light at the end of the tunnel, with a job that would be on her own terms, and money that she could live on comfortably. The only thing that was stopping her was what her family and friends would think of her if she dropped out but right now as she sat at her desk, fingertips pressed to her temples trying to write this goddamn essay about infant attachment she couldn’t think of a reason not to drop out. Why waste another year of her life? Why spend time on things she doesn’t care about?

The buzzing of her phone brought her out of her trance and  Anna glanced over at her screen to see a message from Ronnie.

Gig at the O2, you’re coming. You’ll thank me later x

Ronnie was Anna’s best friend, he had been since they were 2, and he was also a well known photographer on the music scene in London and always managed to get tickets to sold out gigs.

Are you working? Who are we seeing?

Anna put her pen down and closed her laptop. She was done. For tonight at least, she would think about her future tomorrow, for now she needed to find something to wear.

Now that would ruin the surprise wouldn’t it? Working for the O2 not the artist.

You’re so Cryptic. What should I wear?

You’re best clothes ;)

You’re the worst

I know. I’ll pick you up at 5, we’re going backstage xx

It wasn’t often that Ronnie got to take someone backstage with him, most of the time he was too busy to have a tag-along, but he did always manage to at least get Anna tickets to most shows he worked.

***

It was five to five and Anna was putting the final touches on her make up, making sure her eyeliner wings were even and her brows were looking as good as they could when they hadn’t been waxed in a few weeks. As she stepped back from the mirror she heard a knock on her door, followed by the sound of Ronnie’s footsteps walking toward her bathroom.

“Hurry it up” he called “I can’t be late today An, this is a big show”

“Who are we seeing Ron?” she asked quizzically, putting her earrings in and having one last check of herself in the mirror. Ronnie rounded the corner and handed her an O2 pass and an old camera of his.

“This doesn’t answer my question” she looked at the camera that now in her hand

“Tonight” he smirked “You are my intern”

You put the camera strap around your neck and and smiled at him “Do I look like a photographer?”

“Prettiest photographer I’ve ever seen” he winked and smiled at her placing a playful kiss on her hand “but we do need to go, get your things I’ll tell you everything in the car”

Anna rolled her eyes and pushed passed Ronnie so that she cold grab her bag from her room.

Ronnie remained silent the whole way to the car, and Anna was growing more and more anxious to know who they were going to see. The evening air hit their faces as they walked out of the building and towards his car, still without a word escaping his lips.

Anna slammed the car door closed and she couldn't hold it in any longer. “Alright knob head, who are we seeing and why are you being so secretive?”

He turned on the ignition, clipped his seat belt in and turned to look at Anna “You remember that time last year when you called me crying hysterically because you couldn’t get concert tickets?”

Anna’s eyes widened as she realised who Ronnie was taking her to see “No, Ron” she sighed “you didn’t?

He reached down into the side pocket in the drivers door and pulled out an envelope and he handed it to Anna. “You know I did”

She grabbed the envelope from him and frantically opened it, revealing two tickets and two shimmering backstage passes, each with the words “Treat People with Kindness” overlaying an image of Harry Styles.

“Holy fuck Ronnie” Anna yelled “how did you manage this?”

“I know a guy” he winked and looked at the road ahead of him as he turned the stereo on to Harry’s album.

“Oh you know a guy” Anna laughed and started singing along to the music.

“But you have to pretend you’re my intern because I could only get us tickets if we were both working”

“Are you going to pay me?”

“Absolutely not” he laughed “You can’t take photos to save your life”

“I could if you taught me how” she pouted

“I’m going to have to pretend to for tonight, so you might just learn something”

***

It was just past 5pm and the traffic around the O2 was getting busier by the second. Ronnie was getting stressed that he’d be late, but he pulled the car up in the staff car park just as it passed 5:10. Anna was still struggling to believe that this was happening but she put the pass around her neck and stepped out of the car, still holding onto ronnie’s old camera.

“What do you expect me to do with an old camera that doesn’t work Ron?”

“Pretend to take photos” he shrugged as he pulled his kit out of the boot and handed Anna a tripod that kept falling from the bag. “Just don’t freak when you see Harry”

She cleared her throat and tossed her hair her back “I am a professional photographer, I would never freak out in the presence of a client”

He laughed and started walking towards the back entrance to the building “Keep repeating that in your head and you might start to believe it”

Anna followed closely behind Ronnie as they made their way into the building. They walked into chaos. There were crew members everywhere, running about trying to get things organised for the show. Ronnie was used to this, he’d worked for the O2 on and off for about 3 years now and he’d seen his fair share of high profile shows, but this was the first time Anna had been to this venue with him and she was a little shocked to see how frantic everything was.

“This way An” Ronnie said directing her down a hallway towards a door that said ‘STAFF ONLY’

The room was tiny. Not nearly big enough to fit more than five people, and it was crammed with bags and jackets.

“Does everyone out there count as staff?” Anna asked

“No, they’re crew, they have their own room” he dumped his kit in the free space on the table “This is the backstage staffroom for O2 staff, there’s another one for front stage staff that’s much bigger”

“But you’re not cool enough for that are you?” she giggled as another girl walked into the room.

“Hey Bridge” Ronnie smiled “This is Anna, my new intern”

Anna held her hand out and shook the girls hand “It’s lovely to meet you”

“You too love” she smiled “It’s Bridgett by the way, I’m the creative director for The O2, I tell Ronnie what to do”

“Someone’s got to” she laughed, suddenly feeling nervous about this whole thing. Bridgett smiled back and then turned to Ronnie

“Harry will be arriving soon, and when he gets here I need you to introduce yourselves and tell him what you’ll be doing tonight.”

“And what exactly are we doing tonight?” Ronnie said, so he knew exactly what shots he needed

“Right” Bridgett pulled out her notes from her back pocket “We need the standard Hall of Fame shot once he’s all dressed, he has his own photographer who I will introduce you to in a minute, that will take care of most of the backstage shots, but get a few if you can. Your main focus tonight though is the fans, get outside once doors have opened at get some photos of them all coming in.”

Ronnie was writing everything down frantically so that he didn’t miss anything “and when he’s on stage, focus on him or the crowd?”

“Both, get some shots of him that will look nice on the website, and get some of the crowd that can be used for marketing the venue to potential artists”  

“Great “ Ronnie putting his pen away “and when do you need the final product by?”

“You’ve got until monday to get me the photos from tonight and tomorrow” Bridgett was called out of the room by another member of staff and she turned and walked away.

Anna looked at Ronnie quizzically, “Tomorrow night?”

“Oh yeah” Ronnie laughed “did I forget to tell you that we get to do this all again tomorrow?”

“You did.” Anna said bluntly

“Surprise!” Ronnie held up his hands and waved them “But seriously, we need to go outside and get photos of the queue.” He walked out of the room, holding the door open for Anna. The backstage area was still in chaos and Anna began to feel nervous again. She felt strange pretending to be Ronnie’s intern, as greatful as she was to be there, she felt a bit like a fraud. She shook it off and followed Ronnie, weaving in and out of crew members watching as he got a few shots of them getting things ready for the show.

 After getting a few images of fans waiting to get into the venue, Anna and Ronnie returned backstage, where she helped him to find a free wall space for the hall of fame image to be set up and then left him to it for a few minutes while she went and got some more equiptment for him. She walked out of the staff room again and the room that had five minutes ago been filled with chaos was suddenly calm and she saw Harry standing off to the side, talking to who she assumed was his manager. Nerves filled her body again as she made her way towards Ronnie who was standing almost right next to Harry. She handed ronnie the tripod that he has asked her to get but she couldn’t take her eyes off the tall smiley boy in front of her and dropped it before Ronnie had a hold of it. His head turned towards them in that moment when he heard the tripod drop and his smile grew wider as he tried to hold back a laugh

“Careful love” he said his voice deeper than Anna had expected

She blushed and smiled at him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before” held his hand out to shake Anna’s “I’m Harry” he said as if he thought she didn’t know who he was

“Anna” she said shaking his hand “Ronnie’s intern”

“Well he’s a lucky man to get to work with you every day”

She blushed “I think I’m the lucky one if I’m honest”

Harry shrugged “I’ll be the judge of that” he winked

Ronnie stepped in between the two of them “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Harry I need to get a few shots”

“Lead the way” Harry said ushering Ronnie in front of him and hanging back so that he was walking beside Anna

“You know” he said quietly “I’m pretty sure Ronnie Dalton doesn’t have an intern”

“He doesn’t” Anna’s whispered “this camera’s fake, he’s my best friend has been since we were little”

“And he got you backstage” Harry nodded a smile spread across his face.

“Sorry”

“Don’t be” he held his hands up in surrender “I’m glad you’re here”

They came to the space that Ronnie and Anna had set up earlier and Ronnie asked Harry to pose for the camera. The shots only took a few minutes but by the time they were done Harry’s manager was calling for him to do the soundcheck. He thanked ronnie and Anna before he ran off but just before he reached the stage doors, he turned on his heels and Looked at Anna.

“Do you want to watch?” he started jogging back towards her

“Uhhh” Anna looked nervously at Ronnie and back to Harry “The soundcheck?”

“Yeah” He ran his fingers through his hair “I hate doing them, it’s weird looking out to an empty room”

“I don’t think one person is going to make a difference” Ronnie said rolling his eyes

Harry turned his head to look at Ronnie “You can come too, I’m sure Helene wouldn’t mind if you got a few photos”

“My focus is the fans”

“Okayyy” Harry turned back to Anna “coming or not?”

She looked to Ronnie who shrugged and nodded “You’re not really my intern, do what you want”

His sudden change in attitude worried Anna, but she knew it was probably nothing, he often got stressed in high pressure situations where he had a set number of specific images that he needed.

Anna nodded at Harry “I guess I am”

Harry held out his hand and she took hold of it, “We better be quick, Jeffery will kill me if I take much longer.” He started running back down the narrow hallway and Anna was forced to follow suit, breaking into a light jog so that she wouldn’t have to let go of his hand. They came to the stage and Harry burst through the door and was met by a very stern looking Jeffery.

He quickly dropped Anna’s hand “Hello Jeffery” he said excitedly, a tone of sarcasm evident in his voice “what’s the plan here?”

“Same as always H, nice of you to keep everyone waiting”

Harry laughed and pet jeffery on the back “It’s only a few minutes Jeffy, I think we’ll be fine”

Jeffery peered around Harry so that he could see Anna and drew his lips into a sharp line, looking back at Harry with an expression that said a thousand words.

“Go stand at the mic, we’ll start by checking the screens”

Harry nodded and turned around looking at Anna “Where do you want to watch from love? Front and centre?” he pointed towards the gap between the two mosh pits.

“Where else?” she laughed and walked down the steps leaning on the barrier as she watched the screens lower around the stage. Harry waved to her as he disappeared behind them and Anna giggled at his attempts to be in sight as long as possible, ducking his head and pulling faces until the screens covered the stage. The opening notes of Only Angel echoed through the empty arena and Anna smiled back at Harry as he reappeared in front of her.

The soundcheck was quicker than Anna had expected, Harry and the band ran through a few songs on the main stage to check that everything was working as it should be. Then, once they knew everything on the B-Stage was working as it should be, Harry ran off stage back to Anna.

“Good show?” he asked raising his eyebrows at her

“My own private screening, might as well go home now”

“Oh no” Harry said “You’ll miss all the best bits”

***

The arena was full of screaming fans now and the show was halfway over. Standing by the B-Stage as Harry sang the final notes of ‘If I could Fly’, Anna was helping Ronnie find some fans that he could get a photo of and all she could think about was not the beautiful boy standing just a few metres away from her, who only an hour ago had been flirting with her, or her best friend who was truly the most important person in her life, but her blog. This was the moment of clarity that she’d been waiting for for years, the moment where she realised that her own happiness is more important than any degree in the world and her blog was her happy place, so why not make it her job too. She watched as Harry carefully rested his guitar on the stand and waved to the fans at the back of the arena before he made his way back to the main stage at a steady jog.

He brushed past Anna and grabbed onto her hand “You’re going to want to be at the front for this next song love” he dropped her hand continued on his way.

Ronnie rolled his eyes at the interaction “you’re not falling for this are you An?” he put his camera down and looked at her sternly.

“Mind your business Ronald” she wrapped her fake camera around her neck and followed Harry down the aisle, stopping just to the side of the pit.

“This is another new one” Harry said into the mic as the drum beat of an unfamiliar song echoed in Anna’s ears “It’s called Anna” he winked at Anna, a wide smirk emerging on his face.

“Don’t know where you’re laying Just know it’s not with me Don’t know what I’d tell you if I passed you on the street

 I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me,

Oh Anna!”

 Anna Blushed. She knew the song wasn't about her, how could it be? She’d only met Harry four hours ago. It was simply coincidental, but she couldn’t help but feel like he was singing directly to her. Maybe it was because he couldn’t take his eyes off her, maybe it was because everytime he said her name he winked or maybe it was just because the song was about a girl called Anna.

 “Well I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body

If I could touch your body

If I could touch your body

If I could touch your body”

 Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Anna and he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he watched her blush at the lyrics. It had been a long time since he’d met someone he connected with so instantly, he actually wasn't sure he ever had.  

 ***

Happiness.

 In the perfect world, with the perfect life, there’s a formula for happiness, it’s a simple one, good grades in school, a university degree, a good, high paying job, a partner that loves you and some kids that are happy and healthy. But real life doesn’t have a formula and happiness is different for everyone.

 I’m finding myself stuck on the second point of the so- called formula. University.  A degree is supposed to qualify you for a job, right? But with just a few subjects to complete before I graduate, I don’t feel like there’s a job out there that I’m qualified to do. So why finish? That sounds crazy I know, but I’m, at a crossroads here, I have a choice.

I     could spend the next year and a bit finishing my degree, getting myself     into more debt only to end up in the same place I would if I take option     two now.

I     could turn this blog into my career. This requires a big leap of faith, a     lot of patience and hard work, but that’s not what I’m afraid of. It’s the     judgement that scares me. From family and friends to some of you guys, I     know a lot of people would disapprove of  me leaving university.

Now, before I tell you about my final decision, I’d like to tell you about last night because it was the happiest I’ve ever felt and it’s that experience that has led me to this cross roads.

 Mr Harry Styles, has always been one of my favourite celebrities, he’s kind and he radiates joy and last night I got to experience that live and up close. Most of you know that a very close friend of mine is Ronnie Dalton, a well known photographer around London and he was lucky enough to be asked by the O2 to help out with photography last night, which meant that I got to tag along (as Ronnie’s “Intern”)

 My interactions with Harry were only brief, a quick introduction, a hug, a few photos taken by Ronnie of Harry posing against a wall and then he was dragged away for sound check, but spending those few minutes with him, and watching him perform live, made me realise that there is no formula for happiness, something that makes one person happy won’t have the same effect on the next.

 I was standing at the edge of Harry’s B-Stage, helping Ronnie set up a shot, when it dawned on me that my life doesn’t need to fit into a formula, I can be who I want without the world’s approval. So I write this blog post as I delete the essay I began writing yesterday and withdraw from my current subjects. I don’t need that degree to be happy, this blog has always been one of my great passions, I’ve been posting on it daily for years without fail and now is the perfect time to turn this passion I have for writing into something I can be proud of.  This may seem like a rash decision, but I’ve been stewing on it for a while now and I guess I have Harry Styles to thank for giving me that final push, to take the leap of faith.

 So, expect to see a few changes around here over the next few months, and a whole lot of new content.

 Yours Sincerely, Anna. xx

[thesinglesjukebox]

CHANCE THE RAPPER - I MIGHT NEED SECURITY

[4.64]

And we might need a better song.

Will Rivitz: Even two full years after its release, I still struggle with just how monumental a step back Coloring Book was for Chance The Rapper's artistic evolution. How could the man who characterized the convolutions and uncertainties of young adulthood so adroitly and poetically set all of those poignant observations aside in favor of an uncritical appreciation of the glories of fatherhood and a shallow nostalgia for how things used to be? I guess what got me was the album's unprecedented change of attitude: I would never in a million years have guessed that Acid Rap's nuanced self-criticism could have morphed into a Disneyfied version of itself not even three years later. In that regard, at least "I Might Need Security" does indeed have a precedent: this is the narcissistic and toxically insecure Chance we've all gotten to know since 2016. "I ain't no activist, I'm the protagonist" is consistent with the Chance who, when a poem he wrote for NPR's Tiny Desk last year was interrupted by the sound of an elevator, started again from the beginning, because the idea of continuing where he left off would have been inconceivable. "I donate to the schools next, they call me a deadbeat daddy" is consistent with the Chance who slid into a Twitter rando's DMs to tell them to "get off [his] dick" because the user had the nerve to say Chance's proposal to his baby mama may have come a few years too late to generate goodwill. "I'll make you fix your words like a typo suggestion / Pat me on the back too hard and Pat'll ask for your job" is consistent with the Chance who made MTV remove a review critical of Coloring Book because it wasn't well-suited to his tastes. (The review, which sums up my thoughts on the album better than most anything else I've seen, was reposted by the author on his Medium page.) At least he's being honest here. [2]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Interesting thing about Chance the Rapper's debut mixtape 10 Day: It wasn't good, it was fine. Besides songs like "Juke Juke" in which you could sort of see his more manic tendencies emerging, a lot of Chance's earliest material was mealy mouthed rappity rap that was adequate but ultimately boring. It's why Acid Rap, where he did find his voice, was so much more rightfully received and recognized. While Chance's excesses and tics have now become downright aggravating, it made sense that he went in that direction because as a straight rapper there's just nothing compelling to his plain lyrics and delivery. Apparently, you might need proof as well, and lucky for us Chance decided to provide such. [2]

Ryo Miyauchi: The Jamie Foxx sample is the only redeemable thing here with Chance throwing random fake-deep rhymes to a piano-led beat that vaguely channels The College Dropout in feel. It's a life update as a stopgap release between his album presumably in the works, and yet another reminder that Chance has been a hero to Chicago since Coloring Book. It's an exhausting point he keeps on reiterating. Will he lighten his sense of self-importance if we erect that statue he so craves to be built? [5]

Julian Axelrod: Chance's nice guy phase was never going to last. You can't be that rich and that famous for that long without a few compromises and some dirty laundry, and the distinctly Obama-era rap star has had a decidedly post-2016 descent. The Noname collabs gave way to DJ Khaled features; the label aversion morphed into Apple Music kowtowing; the social media savvy proved ineffectual in the face of fan criticism. So "I Might Need Security" presents a new Chance: bitter, prickly, his grin warped into an wary smirk. Luckily, this Chance is still a hell of a rapper, and even in the midst of a 45 degree heel turn he's bubbly enough to spit over a cheeky Jamie Foxx sample that makes no bones about his beef. I might actually like Chance 2.0 better than the original; he looks good with his back against the ropes and some dirt under his nails. But I'm predisposed to like any song that big ups Verne Troyer and clowns Rahm Emanuel, so take my opinion with a grain of celery salt. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: A mixed bag, just like everything Chance has done since mid-2016. Points in its favor: Chance announcing that he bought a news site in the second verse of a loosie, "I'm only 25 but I'm Motown 25," calling for Rahm to resign. Points against: all the woe is me, heavy is the crown shit, the Verne Troyer pun, half of his punchlines in general. And yet "I Might Need Security" still works, in spite of itself-- maybe it's just the Jamie Foxx sample, but Chance is channeling mid-2000s Kanye here at his most maddeningly likeable. [6]

Vikram Joseph: An airing of grievances and a settling of scores (some of them on a widescreen, political scale, and some which need Infinite Jest-level footnoting to comprehend), juxtaposed with Chance's laconic flow and a hazy, sun-bleached beat which almost drifts into "Drinking in L.A." at one point. The dreamy "fuck you" hook serves as microcosm for the song - there's anger here, but it's so palatable. [8]

Ian Mathers: Some of the content here is good, even possibly important. But I don't remember Chance sounding this outright halting in places before, and that sample really sounded like such a good idea they're just going to let it have the last 45 seconds of the track, huh? [3]

Alfred Soto: He's twenty-five ("Motown twenty-five"), expects to see a statue in his honor, and samples a Jamie Foxx routine's "fuck you." Relative to his modest talents, his ego annoys the hell out of me but not as much as his irregularly deployed sing-song: he can't decide whether to cram too many syllables per line or speak-sing the leaden moments. His good intentions scare me most. [4]

Stephen Eisermann: The problem with Chance is his commitment to telling us he's a good guy - the protagonist, even - without doing any of the work. He continues doing the same here, and even though he makes some good points while calling out some bad players (with shaky wordplay, at best), his lack of self-awareness is nearly as hard to swallow as his pride. [4]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The cover of this single is a rendering of the Arthur's fist meme and the song is held together by a chipmunk'd Jamie Foxx sample. These things make "I Might Need Security" a smart PR move of a song: there's a clear link made between his happy-go-lucky personality and what's present here. He sounds more self-conscious than ever, well-worn to the point of actual aggression. When he finally takes the sample's lead and declares "fuck you," it's clear that he doesn't want it to read as anything other than acerbic. While this may sculpt a more complete image of who Chance is, it unfortunately sounds more labored over and tedious than the majority of his catalogue. Hearing Chance's straightforward talk-rapping recalls his poetry slam past--especially since it's coupled with a beat as static as this--and it doesn't particularly play to his strengths. As listeners, we're asked to primarily revel in the lyrics. When I do, it sounds like a whole lot of boring whining. Which begs the question, why would I want to listen to this? [2]

Nortey Dowuona: Smooth, chipmunk curse coos echo in the back as they hit the slack, soft drums, as purring, bulging bass then drizzling. Deep piano is lathered over as Chance snarls thin threats that bulge out of the cotton candy wool of the production. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[douchebagbrainwaves]

FINALLY YOU CAN BUY INDIVIDUAL SONGS INSTEAD OF HAVING TO BUY WHOLE ALBUMS

Microsoft's last victim? If you want to be spending my time?1 Whereas American executives, in their hearts, still believe the most important thing about a car is the image it projects. Yesterday one of the worst things that can happen to a startup is more than you'd endure in an ordinary working life.2 Great work usually seems to happen because someone sees something and thinks, I could have thought of that. It was a lens of heroes. During the Bubble many startups tried to get big fast, I worried about how small and obscure we were. Revenue Loop was the optimal sort for shopping search, in the early days Facebook made a point of hiring programmers even for jobs that would not ordinarily consist of programming, like HR and marketing. If you think investors can behave badly, it's nothing compared to what corp dev people like to turn the tables on you. Giotto saw traditional Byzantine madonnas painted according to a formula that had satisfied everyone for centuries, and to lose one's sense of humor is to be strong: to keep one's sense of humor is to be consciously aware of it. They just wanted lots of people to see their ads. As well as writing software, I had to do it?

The worst consequence of trying to be artistic resort to swooshes and curlicues. Y Combinator is not in itself enough. At this stage, all most investors expect is a brief description of what you need to see what it's like in an existing business before you try running your own.3 If there is such a thing as good and bad senses of the word.4 They also tell you when you're succeeding in fixing them: when cram schools become less popular. The reason is other VCs.5 One of the reasons kids give up drawing at ten or so is that they understand the cost. Google does.6 It felt as if they'd deliberately accelerated this process.7

That's still expensive. And if you find yourself asking should we allow users to do x? But if you come out of the way, and there's a simple solution that's somewhat expensive, just take it and get on with more important things. It could easily be the defining mistake this generation of American politicians later become famous for. Partly because you don't need a brilliant idea to start a startup than realize it. We've now reached that point with stuff. Not everything in Simula is an object.

And while you can outhack Oracle with one frontal lobe tied behind your back, you can't link to them.8 But it's not just that the problems we face are different; the whole structure of the business is different. Build something users love, you have to seek out questions people didn't even realize were questions. The best they can do is fall back on.9 It's as if a chunk of genetic material from the old-fashioned robber baron business world got incorporated into the startup world that has changed, not them. In the software business. It takes confidence to throw work away.10 C#: Java is controlled by Sun. As you read this, a whole new generation of software is being written way too fast for Microsoft even to channel it, let alone which one.11 When you work on matters of passing importance. In practice that means startups should only talk to corp dev unless a you want to discover great new things, then instead of turning a blind eye to the places where conventional wisdom and truth don't quite meet, you should ask what else they've signed.

Notes

As the art business? The main one was drilling for oil, over fairly low heat, till onions are glassy. To be fair, the world in which internal limits are expressed. If a company, but simply because he writes about controversial things.

If they want you. They seem to be the model for Internet clients too. 2%. When you're starting a startup we funded, summer jobs are the usual way of doing that even if they knew their friends were.

I wonder how much would you have a quality that feels a lot of money. My guess is the other side of making a good grade you had in grad school, because the first phases of both consist mostly of unedifying schleps, and when I first met him, but most neighborhoods successfully resisted them. If the company at 1.

Another advantage of startups as they get to go all the other hand, he saw that they create liquidity. As well as down. What is Mathematics?

Information is too general.

He had equity. Come work for the coincidence that Greg Mcadoo, our contact at Sequoia, was one cause of accidents.

They did try to give you fifty times as productive as those working for startups might be interested in you, what that means having type II startups spread: all you have to follow redirects, and logic. Unfortunately, not where to see how much we really depend on Aristotle would be vulnerable both to attack the A P supermarket chain because it looks great when a wolf appears, is caring what random people thought of them material.

Is this unfair? And when a wolf appears, is a bad deal. As well as good ones. They can lead to distractions even more clearly.

Good news: users don't care about valuations in angel rounds can make better chairs or knives, crucibles or church organs, than to call you about an A round about the size of the class of 2007 came from such schools.

VCs fail by choosing startups run by people like them—people who will go away, and we should be specialists in startups.

Then Josh Wilson came in to pick the words out of them could as accurately be called acting Japanese.

[wanna1things]

Roommate!Aron Kwak

is my boi arrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon

Genre;; fluff + college!au + roommates/flatmates!au

Warnings;; ?? food stealing ??

Pairing;; Aron Kwak x reader

Requested;; YES (by anon here) and i am finally getting it done thank you for your patience

Summary;; Someone keeps stealing your food… There’s only one person it could possibly be, and that’s your pesky roommate Aron...

Style;; bullet point

Word Count;; 1068

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS TRYING TO FINALISE A STORYLINE and I decided the best artists always put a bit of themselves into their work so i added the reality which is my own flatmates stealing my food uh…. it’s a bit shorter than i wanted but the storyline cant really be lengthened out that much lol

when you moved into your college dorms everything seemed normal

that was until you met your roommate

you were originally surprised enough when this;; really beautiful human ;; walked through your door and announced himself as your roommate

but then as he revealed how weird he was

you;; had difficulty understanding how your life came to this DHSHFH

first of all

he turned up to the dorm with thomas the tank engine bed sheets

you immediately knew this guy was YOUR kind of guy

“hi, my name’s aron kwak, and i suppose i’m your roommate then;;”

“haha yeah probably;; i’m y/n”

he nodded and placed his stuff on his bed and tapped your shoulder for some reason best known to himself and went to get the rest of his stuff

SECOND OF ALL

he burst into song at random moments

one night you were trying to sleep at like 3am after a major cram session

when out of nowhere, aron who had previously been sleeping like a log

started singing????

i mean his voice was beautiful but at 3am?? Boi

THIRD OF ALL

yeah he just steals your clothes

got an oversized hoodie?

its now aron’s normal-sized hoodie

I mean he’d give it back to you but don’t expect it to not go missing like 3 seconds later lmao

it’s safe to say you were confused

as the weeks of your roommate-ship went on you realised he wasn’t only weird as hell but he was also pretty hilarious

he’d brought one of those projector things that changes your phone into a like projector lmao idk how to explain

and y’all were just watching a film because uh

his friend minki came over for ““““““date night””””””

so they invited you to join in watching the film lmao THIRD WHEEL

when out of nowhere he starts making really terrible puns;;

one day you both entered a ‘ready steady cook’ contest to win £50 starbucks vouchers LOL

and that was the day you learnt more of aron’s secret talents

he’s like?? a master chef

?? clever, funny and can cook? what a man

this all changed when one night, your packet of doritos went missing

you were really looking forward to tucking into the packet you bought at the store a couple days back when it was on offer

but when you got back to your room it was gone??

at first you were at a loss to who could’ve taken it like uh;; mysterious dorito thief is terrorising campus maybe??

but then you realise

there was really only one person it could be

DARN IT ARON KWAK

quicker than lightning you pulled out your phone and began typing an angry message, hitting send and then running to the store to buy some more doritos

they were more expensive this time around but you best believe you were getting that doritos fix even if it killed you(r bank account)

you also picked up some more chocolate buttons on the way (because yes, chocolate buttons are LIFE)

when you got back you put your doritos and new chocolate buttons down with the rest of your stash of food

aron appeared looking soppy af

he mumbled a sorry and flopped down on his bed

normally you’d be worried but this guy just stole your doritos like uh NO sympathy

JUST KIDDING of course you were worried doritos were a minor issue

you sat down next to his bed and smiled at him yknow that awkward smile you do when people are sad lol

he sighed in response and rolled onto his back

“Heyy y/n do you think i’m annoying?? Or weird??”

ok you were a bit taken aback because ?? this guy who exudes confidence and eternal happiness is self conscious?? This is not right

“Noooo way jose you’re not annoying!! And you’re weird but like;; in an endearing way lol idk”

He rolled his eyes at your attempt at complimenting him and mumbled a thanks in response

“If you find it endearing does that mean you loveeee me~~~”

back comes the usual aron kwak

but as he said those words you realised ohhhhh uh oh

soMEONE has a CRUSH on the doritos thief UM (in case you are unaware, that is u with the crush)

about 3 days later, you come back to your dorm and you’re greeted by the soft smell of cookies as you enter your room

and you’re a bit confused like?? why does it smell of cookies tf??

when you get properly inside your room you notice aron sitting on his bed with a plate full of chocolate cookies

he smiles at you as you walk in and he points to the cookies as if you didn’t already notice them

“these are to make up for me stealing your doritos!! i hope you enjoy them lol!!”

Um THANK YOU ARON <333333

as you sunk your teeth into the first one you had the sudden feeling that something was up

so you looked over to your stock of food and you noticed

your chocolate buttons were missing

BOI;;;;;;

you grabbed your pillow and whacked aron STRAIGHT across the face

he was taken aback for a second but then he smiled and it was oddly shifty

“what if i tell you these are also apology cookies for me using your chocolate buttons?”

in that moment you swear you were about to fight this boy

but he suddenly stood up out of nowhere and came over to you

“Ahh but y/n i’m seriously sorry,, and i’m also serious about something else lol look at the plate”

if you guessed that the boy put a damn confession letter on the plate you right

cheesy ass

I mean it kinda failed it was completely soaked in grease LMAO

ANYWAY

of cOURSE you accept the confession from the weird soft boy (i mean who wouldn’t amirite)

CUE YOU TWO BEING COUPLE GOALS

you go around uni like you OWN the damn place, making puns everywhere, being generally weirdos

you meet the rest of his squad (cough cough baekho minhyun and jonghyun) and at first minki is mad because his date nights with aron are GONE

BUT they love you probably even more than aron because you make less terrible jokes yeeeeeeeeeeeeee

ALL IN ALL y’all the cutest, weirdest couple

you bet aron’s still stealing your doritos and your clothes (and your HEART) forever

me? i love aron and would stab myself in the eye if he asked me too;; half of my albums are inadvertently his version too SJHGDF