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sorikkung · 1 year

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what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 4: brooding, beefing, and a not-quite-bluff

word count: 7.6k

pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (its literally too convoluted for me to try type them out here anymore just see the masterlist for full pairings LOL)

genre: e2l, f2l, smut, fluff and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: instantly-regretted slut shaming (including sti shaming?), brief physical violence, public/risky sexual activity, lowkey under-negotiated kink but nothing extreme, power struggle between switches, brief spitplay

a/n: half a year to update then two within a month n then almost half a year again uh. sorry? HDFKS id probably write more often if i knew more people were reading like fellas if you're reading pls lmk!! what are you enjoying what are you not, are you siding with any characters in this conflict? are you curious about any characters or anything? what do you think about everything so far? a reblog goes a long way, even longer if these kinds of things or any sort of feedback are included in the tags/additions/comments like that's the shit that keeps me going 😩

tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

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You just know Stray Kids's new hit song is about you.

It’s not like you keep up with their music out of genuine interest, at least, that’s what you like to tell yourself, but merely to closely track the movements of your rival so you can strike accordingly. You can’t use that same excuse as to why you can’t stop fucking listening to it, but you’re not beyond separating the art from the artist, even if you just know the artist involved you in this directly.

The song is a fucking banger, unfortunately, and the lyrics tease and provoke nameless haters that jab at their skill and specifically their dancing, so the target is very obvious – but it’s a clapback more than it’s a provocation, so you can’t exactly have a go at them for it. Especially when their lyricism is too goddamn good.

Their lyrics gloat and brag in all the ways you highly doubt they would have the guts to say to your face, hiding behind their beats like cowards, all while rubbing salt in the wound.

They won.

The first round of the competition was exactly as you thought – none of the other bands came close to you nor them, but they managed to pull ahead over you and take first place for the introductory round by a shockingly large amount. People ate up the novelty of something new, wanting to root for the underdogs over the previous champions, and that sets a fire under your ass like no other. the renegades have to really show up in ways they haven’t before, and while you appreciate the challenge, you’ve already explored so many genres, styles and performances, switched up instruments and vocal techniques and Wooyoung brought dancing to the bands’ stages before Stray Kids did. You’re going to need to do something real controversial to take the spotlight back now.

Luckily, if there’s one thing the runaway renegades are damn good at, it’s controversy.

It gives you something to think about, and that much you’re grateful for. Lord knows your conversation with Sunwoo has been hawking over you for days, and every glance he gives you throughout the day seems noticeably more pointed, but he doesn’t address it. You don’t either at first, waiting for him to bring it up himself, but days pass and he doesn’t say a damn word.

The longer it lingers in the air, the more unbearable it gets, so when he’s staring at you particularly hard during a break in band practice, you almost throw your mic down to the ground.

“For the love of god, Sunwoo, if you need to discuss something with me you can just say so instead of boring holes into my head,” you hiss at him, making sure to keep your voice low so your other bandmates would refrain from paying attention in favour of the lazy riffs Mingi was plucking on his bass while everyone else snacked loudly and chatted among themselves.

Sunwoo, irritatingly enough, shrugs his shoulders. “There’s nothing left to discuss. I’m just looking.”

“There’s nothing left to discuss? What did you mean by you think that told you my answer or something like you very clearly have more to say that you’re not saying-“

“It was a yes or no question. You either have an answer for me, or you don’t.”

“What answer you want to hear so bad?” you press, his sudden change in behaviour since that conversation making you question everything. Questioning things like, did he put you on the spot like that because he thought you liked them, or because he likes you?

It’s impossible to tell, with him – you’ve seen him in relationships before, but he was never truly heart-eyed or smitten over any of those partners the same way Wooyoung and Mingi are, and none of them lasted very long, probably not helped by you and Eric, and for those who came later, the rest of the band as well.

Sunwoo snorts. “That you want to focus on band practice.”

“You can’t just dodge the question like that!” you whine, feeling every bit like a child stomping their foot, but Sunwoo is a very particular brand of frustrating when he wants to be. You figure that’s why you get along so well, but right now you want to throttle him.

“Oh, like you’ve given me a yes or no yet?”

He’s calm and challenging in his tone, casually knocking his head back to gulp down water from his bottle, unintentionally – or perhaps intentionally? – showing off his jawline while he does it, and lets out an over-exaggerated ahh once he’s done just to let you know exactly how unbothered he is by this topic. Asshole.

“You-“

“Pick up that microphone right now or so god help me.”

He’s not going to give you more than that, by the looks of it, and now is not the best time to press – as much as it frustrates you to admit, you do need to focus on band practice now; you were not the only ones who picked up on Stray Kids’ arguably-subtle clapback, and the online presence of the competition has been louder this year than ever before, expecting big things from the runaways after winning last year’s battle. Your audiences aren’t very big, but they are loud, and you know they’re all waiting for you to meet your rival’s challenge.

You have to beat them. You have to.

Picking your mic back up, you heave a sigh and crack your neck, doing a few lip trills to warm up while you gather your wits about you to pry more.

“You’re not as subtle as you think, Sunwoo.”

He only shrugs again, genuinely uncaring as can be, or at least visibly so; despite your attempts, it doesn’t tell you anything at all.

“Guess I’m not.”

And what the ever-loving fuck is that meant to mean, you think, but you don’t have time to voice it when Eric hits his drumsticks together to get your attention and call a practice session again.

You win this time, Kim Sunwoo, but once we wipe the floor with the stray cats, you’re not getting out of this one.

You did not, in fact, wipe the floor with Stray Kids.

Their next performance isn’t of their new song, but it’s even more batshit than the last, just as flashy outfits and makeup and props and stunts – and naturally, the song is stupid good as well. Not just addictive to listen to, but masterfully composed and written, and as a lyricist and sometimes-composer it actually makes you furious at how good their music is.

That being said, they still couldn’t play that music live, because it seems they’re useless without their sound production software.

“Uh-oh, here come the loophole patrol,” Eric scowls bitterly, spotting your rival band over his shoulder as they head towards where you had gathered. “I can’t believe they got away with that twice. If they’re really continuing with that, it’s gotta be favouritism.”

It’s the very feline face of the man in your messages that pauses on his walk past, swivelling around at Eric’s words. “You know, if you talk shit so loudly, people might just hear you.”

“Uh, yeah, I’d sure hope they do,” Eric flashes back, “Everyone else is probably thinking the same thing anyway.”

He opens his mouth to utter a retort, but Chris is quick to grab his wrist and yank him back, giving him a warning look as if to try and keep him in check. Cute.

“Lino…”

You snort.

“Lino? You actually call him that? Don’t tell me you call that one I.N guy that too…” There’s not enough time to think about whether you deliberately wanted to provoke them further, or if that was merely a knee-jerk reaction to hearing them use their stage names with each other so casually. The way they all exchange slightly guilty-looking glances, though, just gives you the ammunition to keep going. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? Look at you wannabe superstars…”

The leader takes a deep breath, sticking his arm out in front of the others just as they take a step forward to meet your challenge. The way they all halt and close their mouths at the simple gesture speaks volumes of their respect for Chris’s leadership – that, or they’re all just well-trained dogs who will eat out of the palm of your hand if you so much as throw them a bone. Based on your interactions with them so far, you’re more inclined to think the latter – all barring Lino, of course, as they seem to call him, he definitely seemed far more like a cat who isn’t afraid to bite the hand that feeds.

“Can we just skip the song and dance this time? You’ve already accused us of being rigged to win, you got your kicks at the club, do we have to go through this again?”

You admire the visible restraint Minho is taking to keep his mouth shut, lips flattened into a tight line that almost resembles a smile. Either he’s just another dog after all, or he knows how to pick his battles.

“No of course not,” you begin, pausing for both dramatic effect but also for time to think of a clever enough response – it’s only then when you realise that you are, in fact, deliberately trying to provoke them again. They seem to expect this, feet still glued to the floor while they stare at you a few seconds longer, waiting for the ball to drop.

Well, you’ve always been more of a snake, yourself.

“We don’t have to do anything. I’m merely just making harmless observations here, like how names can often imply ego…”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he snaps back, blinking a second too long that you know he was definitely rolling his eyes at you on instinct. “Does your ever-changing band name have anything to deal with your ego that rivals this venue in size?”

The remaining members break out in obnoxious “oooh”s that you far prefer being on the giving end than receiving end of, making the hair on your skin stand on an end.

“Hm, maybe!” You shrug nonchalantly, thrilled at how easily they took the bait. “Having a big ego is good for the soul, I think. If you find that insulting, that’s not a me problem. Harmless observations, as I said.”

“Harmless observations my ass,” Lino scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you, but he’s smirking, and it’s a little too genuine to be one purely defensive in nature. “You’re a troublemaker on purpose, that much is obvious, I’m just trying to figure out why you feel the need to fight us so badly. Is it your little lovers quarrel, perhaps?”

He eyes Eric and Felix in turn, the two of them straightening up and face hardening at suddenly being thrust into the spotlight. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Minho, too, was instigating on purpose.

You look back at his smug little grin, and start to think maybe you don’t know better after all.

“We’re not lovers,” Felix spits, glaring directly at his ex, “At least, not anymore. I thought we were maybe friends, but that would imply not actively trying to make an enemy of me. You’re jealous, we know, just get over it. Redirect your energy into beating us next round.”

“Jealous?” Eric guffaws, but envy drips from each syllable, and you know he played right into Minho’s hands, if not Felix’s as well. (The latter doesn’t seem as deliberately sneaky.) “Jealous of what, your flashy dancing? Newsflash dumbass, we do that too! We were in a dance crew together for fuck’s sake, you can ditch Force for your buddies here but you can’t tell me you forgot that.”

He grimaces, visibly shrinking at the mention of Force. “I didn’t forget. Can we just... not? Or are you going to provoke me until I get pissed off again?”

“You look pretty pissed off right now,” Sunwoo pipes up unhelpfully, to which Eric smacks him in the arm. He’s seeing red now, and you wrack your brain for how you can run damage control without admitting defeat and bruising Eric – and the rest of the band’s, for that matter – ego even more.

Then it clicks, the exact thing Minho was doing a moment ago – deflection.

“And here I thought you’d grown a backbone, freckles,” you sigh over-dramatically before Eric could get a word in. “Suppose that depends, if we piss you off again do we get a round two?”

“You sleazy fuckboys!” Changbin roars, shouldering in front of Felix almost protectively. “Go stick your dicks somewhere else and leave us the fuck alone, we don’t want whatever STI’s you’re probably riddled with.”

“That's not what your man said in my DM’s,” you snort, cracking up into laughter when you see his face contort into a look of horror toward you then Minho. “Pack it up tough guy, freckles doesn’t need a knight in shining armour, he can speak for himself.”

“Is that not exactly what you’re doing for Eric, tough guy?” Chris challenges, and by now, Felix and Eric had broken off into their own argument while he narrows down onto you. Just like Changbin, it’s protective, from his challenge down to his body language, almost like they’re trying to block you off from Felix entirely. Like he’s their perfect little princess who can do no wrong, while you and Eric are the dragon trying to burn down his castle. Tch. Monarchists and their rose-tinted lenses they see their pretty royals through, letting them get away with anything. At least you’re letting Eric fight his own battles and stepping in only because he asked you to, but you suppose they don’t know that. Hm.

“Is it? I was merely teasing to see if I could get another chance at making freckles come so hard he can’t feel his legs, but I’d get it if you’re a little defensive, Chris. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar, right? Butter him up so you can have your chance with strings attached?”

“That’s Chan to you,” he snaps back, something about not knowing him back then being drowned out by Changbin’s loud protests. If anyone understands the importance of a chosen name, it’s you, but you consider continuing to call him Chris anyway, just to piss him off. Unless he comes out as transgender, it’s not like he can get you disqualified for a hate crime. Just for being a dick on purpose.

“We’re not all sex-crazy like you, asshole! Minho may tease, but he doesn’t sleep around with everything that moves just for the hell of it.”

Though, maybe they can be reported for slut-shaming?

“Aw. Why ever not?” San chimes in, leaning an arm on your shoulder, but you can feel the stiffness under the nonchalance he’s trying to portray. His soft heart gets hurt in fights a lot more easily than he’d like to admit. “That’s real rich, you know, considering your bandmate puts his cock and hole on the internet for a check.”

Hyunjin, who had been sassily piping into Eric and Felix’s argument, whips around without so much as a mention of his name – if it was meant to be some sort of secret, he certainly just revealed himself just now. “Are you slut-shaming me? Aren’t you literally strippers?”

“Ohoho no, we’re not slut-shaming you, your bandmate is!” you cackle, watching as Changbin continued to dig his hole even deeper with his members. He flashes a quick, apologetic glance at the sex worker in question. Hyunjin’s brow furrowed slightly, but you get the feeling that any other reaction he could’ve had was deliberately bit back to save you the satisfaction.

“That’s different—”

“Yeah? How so?” you pry further, “That he’s doing it for money and we’re doing it for fun? God forbid we enjoy sex in this good, purist household! Pfft. Shove it up your ass, Changbin, I’d be glad to do it for you. Real good at it, too.”

“You wish!” he huffs, but that only draws Wooyoung to your argument, curling himself around San’s side with one arm while his other hand stays very blatantly in Mingi’s back pocket.

“Sure do! Didn’t think you’d be such a prude after I gave you the best suck of your life, but suppose I might’ve sucked the sense out of you, too. It’s okay, I can put it back, and just wait till you see what Mingi can do—”

“Oh, are you mad just because I didn’t beat you up last time, too? I still remember how much you like pain—!”

Fists are flying in an instant, Mingi’s much longer arms and larger frame connecting with Changbin’s face before his punch could land on his boyfriend, and just as Chris – no, Chan pulls back to swing, you lunge forward to stop him; only to find yourself yanked back against a warm, flat chest. The arms around your waist keep yours bound to your side, but other than that, it’s a lot more akin to a desperate hug than a grapple.

“Please don’t fight.”

It’s a lot deeper of a voice than you were expecting to hear that accompanies the warm breath on your neck, and that’s when you realise the one holding you back is not your bandmate, but Felix. You wriggle and slip your arms free to elbow him in the ribs, but his grip doesn’t budge, instead trying to tug you backwards. “Don’t! All of you, stop fighting!”

His attempts are futile, none of the others listening to him and you resisting with all your might, too – you’ve overpowered him once before, surely you can again. You land a other well-aimed jab with your elbow that loosens his grip enough for you to break free, but within seconds he manages to hook his foot around your legs and sweep them from under you in a movement far too swift to not be practiced.

Right as you’ve accepted the fate of your skull’s second date with the ground, he catches your arm and prevents your full weight colliding with the floor, which is almost somehow even more humiliating than if he just let you eat shit.

“I don’t want to fight you, so don’t make me. I have a black belt in taekwondo and you do not want to see me use it.”

His threat sends chills down your spine. Hearing it come from someone as pathetically pacifistic as Felix – and you can tell from his tone that he’s dead serious about it too – after he just handed your own ass to you on a silver platter, is positively haunting. You almost want to test him on it, and maybe you and Wooyoung have more in common than you thought because the idea of Felix rocking your shit is rather alluring, but especially with the audience, your pride gets in the way. You can handle them thinking you’re a cheap whore, but getting routinely beat up in fights you started would just make you look weak.

“Fine then, loverboy,” you huff, quickly scrambling back to your feet and glaring at him. Before you continue drilling into him in the area more within your expertise – words – you look up and realise the fighting had finished as soon as it started, with Minho barring Changbin’s powerful arms back and Wooyoung with a decisive grip around Mingi’s wrist, Chan and Eric bickering at each other to the side about being the bigger man. (“I’m five foot seven and a twink, you be the bigger man!” “We’re the same height, genius, but I suppose since you’re so clearly lacking the inches, sure I can be the bigger man!” You’re honestly surprised Eric doesn’t try swinging again.)

“You and your nicknames, huh? What was the last one, halfer?”

You freeze, trying to examine his face for any sort of clue that reveals whether Minho opened his big mouth or not, but you wouldn’t put it past him to make it seem like he would just to grant you the humiliation of doing it yourself.

He notices your hesitation and smirks in disbelief. “What, cat got your tongue? I’ve never seen you short on words without your mouth literally stuffed, but... I like it.”

“Do you now? Will you do it yourself, then?” you tease, itching to see just how far his newfound confidence goes. Excitement bubbles up at an alarming speed given how just a moment ago you were seething, but you find yourself blurring the line between anger and arousal a little too frequently whenever pretty boys are involved. Got to get your kicks somehow, after all – does that make you a narcissist? Maybe you are, because you can’t bring yourself to care, not in cases like this where they so desperately need to be taken down a peg or two.

Get into their head, under their skin, and you’re sure to win. They may be talented and rigged to win, but this is your scene, and you know the ins and outs of it like they never will – namely, that good music is only half the battle, and stage presence is the other. They have both right now, but the latter (which you do better, anyway – definitely rigged.) relies on bravado and ego – if you can wound it enough, their performance will suffer. Stress does plenty to nuke a performance too.

You’re going to have your fun and give them hell while you’re at it.

“Gladly,” Felix retorts, tension rising as he steps back into your personal space again. “Though this time, Eric won’t be there to stop time for you, so how about we try for a record timing, huh two-minutes?”

A surge of humiliation rushes through you, but you grit your teeth and power through it to not so much as shrink under his heavy gaze. “Tch. For the record, he didn’t tell me till afterward, either – though I still don’t think you can compare a bit of bump-n-grind to straight-up giving head. Though, wait a second,” you laugh, and it at least feels like you’re saving face. “What happened to no fighting, huh? Want me so bad it’s clouding your judgement? My, freckles, I’m flattered.”

He rolls his eyes, and for a moment you think he sees right through your last-ditch attempt at deflection, but to your surprise, he instead grabs your wrist and starts pulling you away down a random corridor with startling haste.

“My judgement isn’t clouded, I much prefer this over fighting – it’s more fun, and no one gets hurt.”

His answer is characteristically pure, despite the many impure things you want to do to him that you’re sure he’s probably thinking about too; despite it all, he’s still at his core, so good. Maybe the real reason he left Eric is because Eric is a self-driven asshole who isn’t afraid to speak with his fists, doesn’t pay for half the things he brings home and never takes no for an answer once his mind is set on something.

To you though, those flaws are precisely the things you love about him as well. That same stubbornness that makes him unbearable is also his undying loyalty; you know for a fact he would go to the ends of the earth for you and the band, and previously Felix as well. The fact that he managed to break that trust? Only proves that no-one’s truly an angel after all.

You smirk. “Not unless they ask nicely.”

“Oh?” He tugs you around a corner you’re honestly not sure you’re even meant to be in, but something about that is just as thrilling as the delighted sparkle in his grin at your comment. “You gonna ask nicely then? Gonna say pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“In your dreams.”

“I could be dreaming right now.” He cages you against the wall, leaning over you and hovering his face just inches away from yours, dark eyes drinking in all of your features up close, not an ounce of shame or hesitation in them at all. Hell, with the way he smiles at you, without context it could even look romantic. “Guess we’ll have to find out?”

“Right here? How daring. Didn’t think you had it in you, freckles,” you hum, sliding your hands along his hips and digging your thumbs past the waistband of his pants. He runs a hand through your hair, slowly, gently – then closes it around your locks and pulls, just hard enough for a pleasant sting, but no more. The action is oddly intimate in its softness, and you can’t tell if he’s just that much of a gentle-hearted lover or if he really does want to hear you ask for it.

He takes his time, tilting your head this way and that, exposing your neck to him. It’s riddled with bruises of varying shades from the rest of your band, which seems to fascinate him – he trails a tiny finger along the marks, pressing down on the particularly dark ones and flicking his gaze back up to your face to catch the way your lips part slightly to sharply inhale.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he says suddenly, deep baritone cutting through the tension the momentary silence was building. You huff at him.

“No, I’m more of a gentle and meaningful lovemaking under the moonlight kinda guy,” you drawl, sarcasm thick on your tongue, but he just smiles again, a small one.

“I thought so.”

For a moment you think he’s playing along with your sarcasm, but the way he kisses down your neck is so chaste it’s almost ticklish, contrasted only by the way he knee roughly wedges your ledges apart and lodges itself between them, pressing up against you. He’s slow with his mouth’s descent, making you pull him by your hold on his pants closer to you, but he pays your rush no mind.

“You know, freckles, I was being sarcastic,” you inform him, starting to think he genuinely got the wrong message somehow. “No shit I like it rough, our last tryst was a borderline wrestling match.”

“I know.” He doesn’t even so much as look up at you, but his kisses do turn open-mouthed as he finds some unmarked skin around your collarbone, deciding to fill in the blanks – and somehow, it’s the softest hickey anyone has ever given you. You’re certain it’s on purpose now, and his next words confirm it. “I like it when people ask nicely, though.”

Motherfucker. “I’m sure you do,” you grumble, blatantly shoving him off you, much to his alarm. He only stumbles back half a step before you’re tugging him back in by the back of his neck, lips clashing together in a fervent haste.

His body stiffens for a moment and you’re about to pull back before you physically feel his resolve crumble, surging back against your mouth with a poorly concealed hunger for more. He flits frantically between firmly grasping your face with both of his little hands as he licks into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, and grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs, wherever he could reach, closing that distance as much as possible. It’s like he’s in a frenzy, drunk off the taste of your tongue and the warmth of your body and you can only think that you could get damn used to this.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since that night in the Prism,” Felix confesses, and the fluttering feeling the praise gives you only lasts a moment before your next train of thought stomps it out completely; Eric was there at the Prism too. His ex. His supposed first love, who he left so carelessly, but is supposedly still in love with and just not doing anything about it even though Eric practically threw himself at him using you as a meat shield. Yet here he is, blabbering about how much he was thinking about you.

He really meant nothing to him, didn’t he?

He’s brimming with excitement, unable to resist capturing your lips in more heated kisses between his words, “I should be more angry at you. You’re a bit– You’re a lot of an asshole.” He kisses you again. “And I know you try to get on our nerves on purpose.” He kisses you again, not giving you a chance to reply, and his lips are too addicting for you to want to stop him. “And frankly, you deserved to get punched.” He kisses you again, longer this time, teeth grazing your lower lip.

“But?” you breathe out, snorting at how Felix places both hands on your butt at that, beaming cheekily at the silent pun.

“Oh, there is no but. You’re a dick, that’s it. I just want you around mine anyway.”

He’s so genuine and honest, even now, and you’re caught between liking it and being bothered by it, likely since around him you are anything but. You bluff and you lie as easily as breathing air, as frequently as a coffee order, and if he knows this, he isn’t calling you out for it anymore. Given the way he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, though, it’s more believable to think he naively buys what you’re selling, and you wonder if he really trusted your pinkie promise that night in good faith.

Like a fool.

He’s so fucking good. You’d even go as far as to say wholesome were it not for him practically trying to shove his tongue down your throat, but even the way he does that seems so inherently good somehow. Like he’s happy to be here, making out against a wall with his ex-boyfriend’s asshole best friend who effectively is trying to bully him for their own ego and enjoyment.

You really don’t understand Lee Felix at all.

“If you think I’m an asshole now, you do not wanna see me if you hurt Eric again,” you mutter, and the way he stills again makes you wonder if you’ve crossed the line this time before he’s laughing in your face.

It’s not a loud nor boisterous laugh, more dry and callous, though there’s an edge of humour to it. Perhaps a hint of something else, but you can’t place it.

“If I...” he caresses your face, pressing your foreheads together, almost drunkenly swaying to whatever song was being performed in the background, “...hurt Eric again...” he kisses you, again, and were you any less violently turned on you may have even found it disturbing, but instead of speaking more when he stops to breathe, he merely hesitates a second and goes back in for more.

You hate how stupidly good of a kisser he is, and how bloody pleased you are to just keep going; you want him so bad, you want him all over you in the way he wouldn’t do with Eric around, you want to ruin him until he breaks – but part of you is happy enough just to kiss him like this for hours. He kisses you like he cares. Not like a lover, it’s not romantic. His actions may seem so, but you know it’s not the weight behind it, it doesn’t make sense nor does it feel like it. He kisses you like he cares about something, and while you don’t know what, or maybe who, but you know he cares a lot. You’re merely an outlet – it reminds you vaguely of how Sunwoo kisses you when he’s frustrated at something else, or how Eric kisses you when he just wants to forget. How Mingi kisses you when he wants to pretend. How San kisses you like he doesn’t know how to stop.

It’s not like you mind being an outlet. Arguably, you’re doing the same to him. You just hope he isn’t imagining Eric when he closes his eyes and breathes you in – not like you are right now.

“If I hurt Eric again,” he tries once more, forehead pressed back against yours, and all you see are his pretty freckles. Is this is way of avoiding eye contact? You zero in on his presence, his presence, not the absence of your roommate nagging at the back of your mind. Him in all his overwhelming intensity yet deceptively soft when he touches you – gentleness that feels like a threat.

“Then you can do whatever you want with me.”

“What?”

You expected a threat – hell, you maybe even wanted a threat, god knows you’d find it hot especially with that voice of his, but that? You hook two fingers into his mouth before he can close the distance between you again, pressing down on his tongue and feeling shivers at how he doesn’t even flinch or hesitate, simply wrapping those perfect lips around them and sucking on them all while holding your stare with half-lidded eyes.

“No, you can’t just use those pretty lips as a get-out-of-jail-free card, what do you mean I can do whatever I want with you? What if you’ve already hurt him again? Does that mean I can make you ruin your band’s performance on purpose or drop out of the contest or–“

He spits your fingers out and grips your chin in one hand, the other diving down to unbutton his pants. “Actually, I think I definitely prefer you with your mouth stuffed.”

“Hey, you can’t just say that then take it back–“

“We only came down here because I already said I like your mouth stuffed. And I believe you were asking me to do it for you.” He’s already shoving you down by your shoulders, unzipping his fly, the change of mood giving you whiplash. You hold your ground, crossing your arms defiantly.

“And I believe you just told me I can do whatever I want with you. So what I want is for you to either elaborate on what you meant, or shut up, get your ass up, and bend over.”

He outright giggles at you. “Cute, I know you want to fuck me. Go on then, ask nicely and use your manners and I’ll even say yes. Which I think is more than you deserve with how you repeatedly try to drag my team to make yourself feel better about yourself and get involved in other people’s business, but I can be generous.”

“You dreaming while awake now, are you?” You scoff flicking his chest. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Face to the wall, ass out, now.”

You have an advantage here, you think. Eric has always been quite the oversharer, especially about his bedroom escapades, and while you definitely forgot a lot of it, there is one thing that sticks out in your memory – his submissive lean. How the two of them would switch often, but it would only take a bit of bossiness to make Felix weak in the knees, and your night at the Prism only seemed to confirm that. He just loves confidence and assertiveness, he eats it up and comes back for seconds, and damn if you don’t want to see it for yourself.

“I don’t take orders from you, small fry. On your knees.”

Suppose you’re not Eric, after all.

“What makes you think I’d listen to you then, halfer? I don’t care if it was technically two minutes, I still made you come in your pants like a horny teenager and you were whining for more. The fuck you calling small fry? I’m like, eye-level with that aggro, loud-ass guard dog of yours. You should put a muzzle on him, by the way, and his boyfriend too for that matter–“

“Pfft, you mean Changbin? Sure, maybe in those boots you are, but he could snap you like a twig. Heard he almost did before Lino showed up.”

“You know, I like that Lino fucker. He’s got a flair for the dramatics, and being a hypocritical shit-stirrer, even to his team and his boyfriend. You know he was purposely trying to get a rise out of you and Eric back there, right?”

He was getting more worked up now, not that the bulge in his pants needed to be any more obvious than earlier, but now his giddy excitement fizzles into something far more potent, raw, and hot to touch, increasing your excitement tenfold. As soon as he loses his cool, you win, you realise, so you make sure he couldn’t cool down if he tried, finally going along with his hand on your shoulder and sinking down to the floor and pulling his length free from his boxers.

“Hmm, too bad you’re keener than he is, I would’ve loved to take him and his boyfriend for a spin – though to be fair, they were pretty keen still,” you go on as you stroke him slowly, but squeezing him tight enough to see his jaw clench. “That leader of yours though, now he’s a piece of work. Has the whole lot of you so well-trained like pets, huh? You guys like that? It’s so pathetic it’s almost adorable.”

“How about you keep my cock in your mouth and my band the fuck out of it?”

You laugh at him, sardonic and demeaning. “I don’t take orders from you either, halfer.”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, huffing indignantly before grabbing your chin again to force you to look him in the eyes, and something seems to click behind them. He huffs again, a smirk spreading across his face as he lets his grip on yours go, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Open your mouth.”

He doesn’t leave any room for argument – not that you couldn’t make room if you wanted to, but teasing him within an inch of his life is a lot easier with him in your mouth, so just this once, you obey.

What you don’t expect is for him to spit directly into your mouth, with surprising accuracy given the difference in elevation. His hand comes up beneath your chin before you can react, pushing your jaw shut.

“Swallow.”

You hate how you already did on instinct when he closed your mouth, and you hate even more how it makes you press your thighs together in arousal.

“Good boy.” He grins at you, wider this time, then combs his fingers through your hair and tugs again, pulling your head closer to him. “Now suck.”

You want to sass him back, tease him some more, leave him hanging just a little longer, but when he speaks to you like that, even lower than the usual bass of his speaking voice, all sultry and commanding – so unexpected from him, so fucking hot, you don’t have it in you to wait any longer. You need to hear that voice of his again, those pretty, pretty sounds he makes when you give him exactly what he wants; you bet it’ll sound even prettier when you take it away from him.

You take him into your mouth, not wasting any time relaxing your throat and taking him all the way in, to his surprise – he lets out a startled yelp that cuts off as he shuts his mouth at the same time as he screws his eyes shut, teeth digging into his lower lip. Were you not deep-throating him, you would’ve smiled. It’s not a pleasant feeling, in all honesty – you’re not like Wooyoung or San, who just love having their mouths full, but you do enjoy the effect it has enough for you to be well-practiced, and once you could fit most of Mingi down your throat, anyone else was a piece of cake.

“Fuck,” Felix hisses out, gripping your hair tighter, but he doesn’t try to make you move, nor does he try to move, but you don’t miss the way he keeps tensing up at how your throat contracts around him. “God— heh, I really do like you better with your mouth stuffed. So fucking good.”

With every noise you pull from those sinful lips at each movement of your mouth along him, the temptation to have him for real grows stronger. You work him closer and closer to the edge without wasting any time teasing him, ignoring the dull ache in your jaw and digging your nails into his quivering thighs. The quicker you can edge him, the less you have to fight against your self-control – after all, you can have your needs taken care of once you get home, anyway.

He stops you before you can get there though, his grip in your hair pulling you off him and prompting you back up on your feet so he can kiss you again roughly.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks breathlessly against your lips, “I’ll do it right here, right here in this hallway.”

Yes, god, please yes. Your resolve thins. “Not such a good boy after all, huh? What if we get caught, hmm?”

Every lick of logic and rationale you have in you is telling you to not, because there’s no point getting Felix disqualified from the competition if you bring the band down with him, but you haven’t heard anyone coming down this way yet, since you’re pretty sure it was staff-only and the staff should be busy with the other contestants right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe.

“Guess we better not get caught, then.”

Throwing all caution to wind in your lust-filled haze, you hook an arm around his neck and pull him to you, your other hand undoing your pants and shimmying them down, already dripping wet and throbbing for him. He chuckles darkly at your haste, teasing your clit with the tip of his dick, chuckling again at how your body twitches at the sensitivity from each slight touch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Just put it in already.”

He chuckles again, deep and husky and mind-numbingly attractive, but doesn’t make any move to give it to you.

“Then beg.”

Your eyes fly open, staring at him in disbelief as a surge of outrage pulses through you. “Excuse me?”

He stares right back with an unbridled intensity, those sharp eyes boring into you.

“Beg for it, and I’ll give it to you.”

You scoff.

“No.”

He teases at your entrance, watching your face for any sign of restraint, but you stay steady. If he thinks you’re going to sink so low as to beg for his dick in a ratty corridor, he’s dead wrong. You may be a degenerate, but for him? There’s no way you’re giving him the satisfaction.

“You want me bad enough to let me fuck you right here in public, you can beg for it just once,” he reasons, but he should know better than to think someone like you could be so easily reasoned with. The fact that he ever thought he could get away with it just proves you need to remind him of his place – beneath you. A boy toy to play with at your whims, because you hold the control, not him.

“I don’t think I can,” you coo with faux disappointment, giving him one last chance to quit while he’s ahead. “If you want to fuck me, Felix, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

He senses your challenge, and knows that if he does give in, you win – and lord knows you’re still hanging your previous victory over his head. Deciding he’s not going to give you what you want so easily, he pushes himself off the wall, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. “Nice try. You’re going to beg, or you’re getting nothing.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Huh?”

He can’t hide the flash of surprise across his face as you slip away from him, swiftly pulling your pants back up and re-doing the button, walking off without a word.

“You’re bluffing. Get back here.”

He called your bluff last time, but this time you are dead serious. You don’t need him, or his dick, or even his pretty lips and sexy voice. You want him, sure, you make no secret of that – but in the end, he’s still Eric’s shitty ex trying to take your bands crown with a shoddy excuse of a band, and just because you’re a stripper doesn’t mean you’re easy.

You’ll have him on your terms, or you won’t have him at all.

“You sure like to call bluff. Too bad I’m not bluffing, halfer – I got better dicks to ride. You’re not special.”

You don’t even so much as spare him a glance over your shoulder as you strut off, and he takes a second to recover before tucking himself back into his pants and storming after you.

“That wasn’t what you were saying when you were all over me just then, or back at the Prism—”

“I basically did,” you snort, pivoting around on your heel to jeer at him. “Why do you think Eric won our little contest? Get over yourself, you’re hot but you’re nothing more than a plaything to me. And what happens to playthings when their owner gets bored?”

“I’m not yours to play with,” Felix growls, anger bubbling over where arousal once was – or maybe directly alongside it. “You don’t own me, or anyone – are you seriously that up yourself? Wow. I’m sure Eric is so lucky to have a friend like you.”

The glare you give him at that is fucking scalding – how dare he question your relationship to Eric? How dare he ecen bring him up now? He’s the one who abandoned him. Seems like he’s just like most other cis men you know – all sweet until you don’t put out. How typical.

“At least I’m not the one who left,” you spit in his face, whirling back around and pacing off without any intent of turning back.

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randomvarious · 4 months

Text

Today's compilation:

Animal Liberation 1987 Industrial / Post-Punk / Synthpop / New Wave

God, this thing is just so fucking on-brand for PETA, folks. Back in 1987, the oft-ridiculed animal rights activist org teamed up with Chicago heavyweight indie label Wax Trax! Records in order to release this benefit comp that saw its royalties go straight into PETA's own coffers. And, as you might expect, like clockwork, it was made up almost entirely of pure, unadulterated cringe 🥴.

Now, to be perfectly clear, I'm definitely not here to evaluate or criticize the merits of animal liberation as an ideology itself in this post, but people have to understand that if you're trying to convert others to your own way of thinking, you're not likely to get through to them with ridiculously over-the-top, preachy propaganda that, in true PETA fashion, will leave your target scratching their head and wondering if all of this is actually just some elaborate ruse or a silly bit. What I think would've been a far more effective tack to take during this era that saw the concept of the benefit comp really flourish would've been to include maybe a song or two about animal rights, and then have the rest of the comp filled out with a bunch of other non-topical goodies.

But obviously, PETA and Wax Trax! didn't end up doing that here. What they chose to do instead was load up this album with almost nothing but ridiculous songs about animal rights and animal liberation; songs that certainly reflect Wax Trax!'s own love of self-aware irony and detachment as a bastion of the intersection between industrial, synthpop and punk and post-punk music, but are not likely to translate into swaying anyone to alter their own consumer habits in order to help lessen the plight of animals themselves. It really feels like just about everyone on here knows that what they're doing is already too on the nose to be taken seriously, and so they're just deciding to act accordingly. Like, if you were to make fun of animal rights activists through the art of musical comedy, you would probably just release this album pretty much as it already is.

The only track on here that would've kept you from using this CD as a coaster is the final one, "Assault & Battery," by Howard Jones, who wasn't even ever a Wax Trax! artist in the first place! This song, like the rest of them, is about animal rights too, but it's a bit more poetic and compelling in how it deals with the subject, rather than the vast majority of this slate, which takes the route of being very lyrically dogmatic and deliberately straight-forward to the point of being exasperatingly eyeroll-inducing 🙄. But with "Assault & Battery," a song that had previously appeared on Jones' 1985 album, Dream Into Action, he pairs his trained piano background with some synthpop and ends up delivering what is, by far, the most captivating and enjoyable song on this album.

So, an exceedingly bad and torturous release that seems par for the course when it comes to PETA's history of overly lame attempts at being provocative rather than actually being thought-provoking, but there is still one very good tune on here; it's just that Wax Trax! had to go outside of their own catalogue in order to obtain it 😆.

Highlights:

Howard Jones - "Assault & Battery"

#industrial #synthpop #synth pop #post punk #new wave #electronic #electronic music #music #80s #80s music #80's #80's music

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seung-hwa · 2 years

Text

neptune

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader

Genre: Pure fucking angst babes

Warnings: listen it’s fucking sad okay, not enough people on here write sad shit and sometimes you just need to be sad alright??

Summary: The mini vacation that you’ve planned for yourself and Hongjoong is the last resort you have to save your dying relationship with him. You may still love him, but love isn’t enough to fix what’s broken.

A/N: This is VERY heavily based off of this song here. Lyrics are italicized.

Pitch black, pale blue. It was a stained glass variation of the truth and I felt empty handed. You let me set sail with cheap wood. So I patched up every leak that I could, ‘til the blame grew too heavy.

The wind that whips is harsh against your skin, the smell of the sea is heavy in the night air as the waves crash against the ocean shore. You try to focus your attention on the way the moon shines down onto the sea, rather than thinking about the argument that just ensued between you and Hongjoong.

This vacation was supposed to be a respite from both of your hectic lives, but of course what was supposed to happen never came to fruition. It started from empty promises before you even boarded the plane. He had sworn to you that he wouldn’t take work with him, that the company understood that he was taking some time for himself. It wasn’t like he was going to be gone for months at a time, just a week. A week is all you asked from him, all you needed was for him to put you first for just a single week.

You had been his rock since before his first audition, there for every single up and down in his career, you have always understood him and his busy schedule. Always. More often than not you felt like he took your patience for granted despite the many times you begged for him to just be present in the moment with you.

For you, this vacation was the last chance you felt like you had with him. You had hoped, with everything inside of you, that he’d leave his work behind and focus on you. It’s not like you asked for much, you figured that this couldn’t, shouldn’t, be so hard for him to do. But, of course, he proved you wrong.

Stitch by stitch, I tear apart. If brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy. Thread by thread, I come apart. If brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece.

“You said you wouldn’t do this Joong. You didn’t just tell me you promised me that you’d leave all this shit at home,” you try to be calm but you can both hear the fury beginning to creep its way into your voice.

It was two in the morning, and you had woken up to a cold and empty bed, something you had grown used to back home, but not something you had expected to happen here. The day had been wonderful, you spent the morning exploring the small beach town, grabbed dinner once the sun started to set and as the night befell you spent the rest of it wrapped up in each other's embrace until you both fell asleep. Had you not woken up at this ungodly hour then you would’ve never known that he had snuck off into the night just to work. He had to have known you would wake up, you always do at this time just to go to the bathroom. You can only surmise that he thought he’d be able to make it into bed before you woke up but ended up losing track of time.

“I know baby I’m sorry but-,” you cut him off before he can even give you whatever excuse you know he had already thought of.

“No Hongjoong I don’t want to hear it from you. All I asked is for you to just give me your time this week. Why is that so hard?”

“I don’t get why it matters if you were already asleep,” and of course he won’t just sit there and admit he’s wrong.

“It’s the principle of it! When we’re home I am constantly having to wake up to my boyfriend not even being in the same bed as me. That shouldn’t be the case here, you know that!”

“And you know how busy I am! Honestly (y/n) don’t you think it’s selfish for you to expect me to put my whole career on hold for you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you blurt out before even thinking about it. You’re automatically heated by his accusation.

“No, actually I’m not kidding at all. You know that I have a comeback just around the corner and you drag me away, the least you can do is let me work without feeling guilty for it,” he says, getting just as heated as you. He stands from the dining room table, now fully facing you and preparing for the argument you’re about to have.

I’m only honest when it rains if I time it right, the thunder beaks. When I open my mouth I wanna tell you, but I don't know how. I’m only honest when it rains, an open book with a torn out page and my ink’s run out. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how.

“This was supposed to be for us! No work! No responsibilities! We were supposed to come out here and just enjoy each other’s time. I didn’t realize it was so selfish of me to want for you to give me the attention you literally never give me when we’re home,”.

He gives you a roll of his eyes and fixes his face into a scowl. He looks as though he’s about to say something else but decides not to as he shakes his head and turns around. You reach for his arm and force him to look back at you.

“No! Nuh uh! You’re not just about to ignore me. Say what you want to say!”

“You really want to hear what I have to say?” He says to you with a raise of his eyebrow, irritation clear in his tone.

“I would love to hear whatever bullshit you’re about to spew right now!”

“You’re clingy, you’re needy, and it’s annoying (y/n). You’re so fucking annoying!” His voice begins to raise.

“Let me tell you something Kim Hongjoong, I’ve been here for you since the very fucking beginning with little to no complaints. The least, the absolute fucking LEAST you could do for me was this. I never ask you for much, NEVER,” it doesn’t hurt you that he’s called you clingy, needy or even annoying, it’s more irritating than anything else because it’s a bold faced lie.

“You take advantage of the fact that I have always stood behind you where others would have left you. And honestly? I am so fucking SICK of being with you when you never give me a moment of your time. Tell me Hongjoong, what the fuck do you want from me?”

“You’re being so dramatic,” he says, clearly none of what you’re saying is getting through to him.

“I don’t care if you think I’m being dramatic. I asked you a question. What the FUCK do you want from ME? Would it suit you better if I was just a little plaything for you to use whenever you need to get your dick wet? Is that what you want? Is that what you need? Because if that’s the case then let me know and I’ll be out of this door in an instant,”.

He raises his hand to his head, fingers rubbing at his temples as you can hear him mumbling under his breath.

“If you’re gonna say something then say it out loud. I’m tired of your shit,” you say.

“You know what. Yes. That’s exactly what I need. For you to leave me the fuck alone so I can get my shit done. Is that what you want to hear?”

I don’t know how. No, I don’t know how. I don't know how. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how. I wanna love you.

“You want to be alone? Fine! Then be alone! Maybe you’ll finally be able to feel how I’ve felt ever since you fucking joined your company and left me hanging every fucking day!” Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own. You can’t remember the last time you yelled, let alone yelled at Hongjoong. You’re just so sick of having to deal with being in a relationship where you’re the only one who cares enough to try.

You don’t let him answer back to you, instead you grab a jacket and stomp out of the house. You tell yourself that you’ll start packing your bags once you come back in, for now though you need to be able to calm yourself down.

Although the air is cold around you, you feel much warmer out here than you did inside the house. At least you know you can rely on yourself, Hongjoong has proven to you time and time again that you can’t rely on him for anything. You’re too angry to cry, too angry to even think straight as you watch the way the waves crash. Why is it so hard for him to just show you the love you know you deserve. He makes you feel like you’re crazy for wanting him to be present in this relationship, as if it’s a chore for him to love you like how he used to. You understand that he’s stressed from work, but what you don’t understand is his incessant need to always put himself under so much stress that the company doesn’t even expect from him. You’ve met the CEO, you’ve had lunch with him and other staff who treat the boys like kings, they aren’t the ones to put this pressure on Hongjoong. He’s the only person who puts this much stress on himself and you can’t comprehend why.

Maybe it is selfish for you to feel like he buries himself into his work just as a way to get away from you. He always seems to have time for everyone else but you, so what else are you supposed to feel when he makes you out to be the problem. You’ve felt the way he’s drifted from you for a while now, but you always hoped it was just because of work. Now you feel like it’s been purposeful.

You wonder if he still loves you. Do you still love him? Or have you both grown so comfortable with each other that the thought of finding something better, someone better, seems like too much of a hassle? You know he needs someone who will let him do his own thing, if he even needs someone at all. If anything you’re sure that Hongjoong would rather be single and happy than miserable and with you. You, on the other hand, know that you need someone who’ll actually give more than just 10% while you consistently give them 90. You need someone who will make time for you, not because they have to but because they want to.

Pitch black, pale blue. These wild oceans shake what’s left of me loose just to hear me cry mercy. A strong wind at my back so I, I lift up the only sail that I have. This tired white flag.

You can smell the rain before the droplets begin to come down. It’s the realization that you’re in a failed relationship that finally gets the anger to simmer down and become replaced by sadness. It’s far too windy for you to be out, but you would rather freeze out here than be anywhere near him.

As the clouds begin to roll in, the moon disappears, leaving you in pitch blackness. Despite the rain that begins to hit your skin, you stay seated in the sand, kicking off your shoes and digging your toes into the ground. You pull your jacket closer to your body, shivering as the rain begins to pick up. The waves and the rain are almost loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, but the sadness still prevails.

It’s painful to feel like you’ve wasted some of the best years of your life to someone who couldn’t care less. You’ve no idea how long you’ve been outside, and he doesn’t come out for you either. Maybe he’s far too invested in his work to notice how hard the rain is pouring outside of the house, maybe he has his earbuds in and can’t hear the way the thunder rumbles, maybe his eyes are so focused on his computer screen that he can’t see the way the lightning lights up the sky.

You experience all of it. You feel the icy rain stinging your skin, can feel the way the thunder rumbles the ground beneath you, see how the lightning illuminates over the ocean and makes the waves more daunting. And yet all the chaos around you can’t stand a chance to the chaos you feel in your heart.

This was it for you. You told yourself before you even planned the trip that if he couldn’t just keep his focus on you then this was it. You would stick to that decision and live with the consequences. It hurts because you wanted more for the both of you, but he kept putting everything else before you and you were tired of being second best.

When were you allowed to be his priority, especially when he was always yours.

I’m only honest when it rains. If I time it right, the thunder breaks. When I open my mouth I wanna tell you, but I don’t know how. I’m only honest when it rains, an open book with a torn out page and my ink’s run out. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how, know how.

You feel a presence stand next to you. You don’t look up though. You already know it’s him, and it’s raining far too hard for you to bend your head upwards just to confirm your suspicions.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he says to you.

“If I shouldn’t be here then why are you,” snippiness enters your voice as you continue to stare ahead of you rather than at him.

“Let’s go back in before you catch a cold. Baby you’re soaking wet,” he places a hand on your shoulder and you roll it away from him. His touch is unwanted and the pet name just makes you angry again.

“Don’t pretend to care now just because of your guilty conscience,”.

“(y/n),” he sighs, “I’m not pretending to care. I do care for you please come back inside,”.

“But do you love me?”

“What?”

“You care for me but do you love me Hongjoong?”

“Baby-”

“Don’t call me that. Just answer the question. Do you love me?”

He stays silent, and that’s enough of an answer for you. You stand from your place in the sand, feeling the way it keeps itself attached to your clothes. You don’t even put your shoes on as you make your way back to the house, Hongjoong following right at your heel.

The heat hits you the second you make your way through the door, and a shiver settles into your bones, your mind finally realizing how cold you really are. For what it’s worth he rushes to get you a towel, wrapping it around your body as he steps in front of you. You don’t want to look at him still, but this is a conversation that you know needs to be had.

“Why would you ask me if I love you?” You can see the pain in his eyes, the regret is written clearly in his features and it makes you want to cry. He can sit there and lie to himself all he wants but you know the truth.

“We both know you don’t,”.

You watch him swallow the lump in his throat, tears beginning to gather at his waterline. You’ve rarely seen him cry, in fact you’re sure that Seonghwa has seen him cry more than you have. The thought makes you feel bitter.

“Don’t say that… Don’t pretend to know how I feel,”.

“Don’t lie to me as if I haven’t known you for years, loved you for years,”.

“So what? Do you not love me anymore?” his voice cracks towards the end of his sentence and it tugs at your heart, making you feel more terrible than you already do.

I’m only honest when it rains. If I time it right, the thunder breaks. When I open my mouth, I wanna tell you, but I don’t know how, know how. I’m only honest when it rains, an open book with a torn out page and my ink’s run out. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how.

You do love him. You can’t really stand here and convince yourself that you don’t because you do. You’ve spent so much of your time loving him, and in the beginning you loved the way that he loved you. But you can’t just keep holding on to the hope that he’ll love you the way that he used to. You’ve given so much of yourself to him, all for it to be taken for granted. So even though you do love him, you love yourself more.

“No,” you say with a shaky breath and a broken heart. You follow the way a tear slips out of his eye and down his cheek.

“I think we’ve grown complacent, don’t you?”

His response is to look away from you, hand wiping at his face haphazardly as the tears continue to run. You’re thankful you got all your tears out on the beach because you already feel so exhausted from the crying.

“Is this really just because of the work issue? Is that what needs to change?” there’s a bit of desperation in his tone.

“It’s more than that, but that is part of it, yeah,”.

He doesn't speak again, just letting the tears fall silently as you continue to watch him. You can see the gears in his mind turning, and you wonder if he’ll try to bargain with you, try to beg you to stay. You have to admit that a part of you would very heavily consider it if he pulled aside his pride and did so, but the longer you both stand there the more you know that he won’t do it. You’re sure Hongjoong is trying to convince himself that letting you go is what’s most beneficial to him, and you have to agree. Maybe he would be better off without you, and you’re tired of fighting for something dead.

“Is this it?” he asks you, voice coming out in a whisper. He barely sounds like himself, and it could just be because you find yourself trying to disassociate yourself from the painfulness of it all.

“I think it has to be,”. There’s a pit in your stomach that wasn’t there before, the finality of your words making your body react negatively.

“Okay,” he says, nodding sadly as he looks away from you and around the house in which you were supposed to spend the next six days together. So much for that vacation, huh?

“Now what?” he sighs.

“You can go back in the morning, pack everything up and head out on the first flight tomorrow if you’d like. We can deal with the rest once I come home,” you’re proud of yourself for not having a single voice crack.

He nods at you and heads off towards the room, presumably to pack his things and get his trip planned back home. You’re still shivering in the same spot, a wet puddle lays at your feet that you know you’ll have to clean later. You’ll have to do a lot of things later. For now though you’ll shower, and then sleep on the couch while Hongjoong leaves.

There’s an ache in your chest, a feeling of deep regret, but you know that you deserve to be happy. Hongjoong wasn’t your happiness, he hadn’t been for a very long while and you’ll have to learn to live with that. You’ll have to learn to be okay without him.

I don’t know how. I don’t know how. I don’t know how. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how. I wanna love you, but I don’t know how. I wanna love you.

More A/N: Alright yes I know that was pretty sad, if you’d like to read a Hongjoong fic that has a happy ending then look at this fic here (or if you just love pain then feel free to read this one instead). But, if those don’t appeal to you then feel free to peruse my masterlist here instead. I do have a tag list so if you’d like to be added onto that then let me know. Okay cool bye!!!!

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friendshouserecords · 2 years

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Do It Quick And Make Me Pretty: A Song-by-Song Analysis of Willy Rodriguez’s Silly Love Songs for Unfortunate Breakups

Talking with the jangle-pop two-piece Willy Rodriguez after finishing my first full listen to their newest album yielded a conversation very similar to the work itself: eclectic, ever-changing but constantly exciting and captivating. The two members, Willy Rodriguez himself (lyrics, main vocals, guitar) and Star Starer (production, keyboards, background vocals, bass, drums, and a lot more), met in a more unconventional way than most. “Star used to have an old YouTube channel, and we met through there, and I saw his music because he always talked about it and would stream it on servers, and I thought he was really talented,” Willy recalls. “He still is really talented, and that’s why I really wanted to work with him. I am very grateful, because without him, I don’t think I’d be anywhere.” The pair originally worked collaboratively, but chose to keep their works separate. “I wanted to credit Star, because he does most of the work, and I want people to know that,” Willy said of the separate listings. “So that’s why I mainly credited him for the longest time.” Star, however, asked Willy to remove his name from future songs as a separate credit, instead combining his work with Willy’s to create the band as it is today. “I wanted it to be seen as a band instead,” says Star.

Working completely virtually, the band relies on voice calls to create their music together in live time. “What usually happened was, [Star] would make an instrumental, and while he was making an instrumental, I’d write along with the song, which is not a good way to write,” Willy says. “So what we do now is we both sit in a call, and he makes the instrumental, and we both listen to it, and we try to map out what we sort of want in a song, so we want to go through a normal pop structure, or we want it to be more complex. And after that, I sort of go off and write my own lyrics and record it.”

The duo credit The Smiths, above all other influences, for the majority of their inspiration in instrumental work. “I literally don’t listen to anything else but The Smiths,” claims Star. “We’ve been compared to Weatherday and The Smiths, so I think that’s the best descriptor of us.”

The art, like the music, is a collaborative effort between the two artists. Willy draws the multifarious characters, while Star chooses color palettes and brings vibrance to them. They each have their own influences as well: Willy credits the fashion in the movie Trainspotting for the outfits of his characters, which Star draws inspiration from Japanese artists of the 70s and 80s. As I was (very passionately) informed by Willy, the fox-like characters have absolutely no relation to those of indie rock band Car Seat Headrest, despite the similarity. “I made the drawing when I was twelve,” Willy stresses. “I didn’t even know what Car Seat Headrest was.” The band emphasized the necessity of spontaneity within their work: “I think that the sort of art of it comes out better when you don’t think about it too much and you just write it down,” Willy states. This spur-of-the-moment technique for planning could possibly be credited for the wide variety of themes, styles, and genres found within the album - no single song could be described in quite the same way.

Power Walker

Throughout the process of listening to this album thoroughly, I can guarantee this is the song I have listened to the most, making it the perfect, addictive starter track. It begins with an infectiously catchy guitar line in a similar vein to the work of Her’s, before being joined by punchy, energetic drums to give the track a more punkish feel. Willy switches between singing and shouting the lyrics, which describe a double-entendre situation where the subject could be seen as experiencing a live cremation, or just trapped sitting inside during a typical Midwestern summer. “Power Walker, despite its name, isn’t about powerwalking, we just liked the name,” Willy says. “It was mainly about cremation, but I wanted it to be sort of metaphorical, so I tried to make it open to interpretation if the main person in the song is trapped inside their house on a summer day having a boring time, or someone accidentally being cremated.”

Doll House

Though this track has a similar feel to the previous, it begins to explore what will soon become a common theme throughout the album - that of the identity dilemma and the incessant feeling of a need to define oneself. It’s not uncommon to hear identity talked about in music, but Willy manages to write about these issues with an impressive sense of universality and worldliness, writing, “What shape will I be next / What dress will I be put in tonight?” While the beginning of the song is in a punchy 4/4, it makes a switch to a slower waltz tempo, layering in many different melody lines and voices. Reminiscent of a rock opera, the song slowly crescendoes before reverting back to the original tempo and rhythm, this time continuing the established melody lines intermingling with one another. These rich, chamber-pop-like vocal harmonies also make a return multiple times throughout the album, becoming an impressive hallmark of the band’s sound.

Drug Bug

In an abrupt, yet pleasant stylistic change from Doll House, Drug Bug begins with an 80s-esque drum machine, with the appropriate synth sound following suit. The track’s instrumental as a whole, but especially within the intro, could have easily belonged to any song by XTC or Duran Duran, complete with plenty of cowbell. (This new-wave nuance is something the band openly emphasizes - within the credits of the album, a special thanks is given to Wham!). With this track, Willy and Star continue the trend of complex and layered harmonies, this time with a singular melody line backed up by many lines of background vocals.

Valentine Homicide

Valentine Homicide has a more unadulterated sound than that of the preceding tracks, with a limited amount of background vocals to emphasize focus on the comprehensive melody line. With a twinkly, acoustic guitar-heavy sound, the song is strongly reminiscent of Elliott Smith, whom the band credits as one of their inspirations. The track also clocks in at just over a minute, making it the shortest song on the album thus far, more of a prelude or intermission. The lyrics highlight another large facet of the album: its emphasis on lost love and defective relationships. Willy sings in mourning of past relationships, written here as “valentines,” and how “the papercuts they give / aren’t worth the tribulations.” The song is both a blend of and a juxtaposition between the subjects of love and violence, mixing imagery of blood and slashing with that of red-pink glitter. Its melancholy sound exerts a mix of anger and acceptance, ending simply with the lyrics, “when is said and all has done / you’ll never hear this shitty song.”

Love Liquor

When comparing the music to the vocals and lyrics in this track, Love Liquor can most accurately be described as an enigma of the best kind. The song maintains a strongly uptempo waltz, akin to that of any number of 40s jazz standards. The lyrics, however, keeping in theme with previous track Valentine Homicide, evoke strong themes of a toxic and crippled relationship. In this instance, Willy sings about mental issues getting in the way of what should be a happy connection, saying that “it’s all in the way / whenever I hug you.” This track contains some of the most passionately sung lines in the album, although the entirety of this project is incredibly ardent and personal. (It also contains some…alternate meanings to the title and lyrics, if you’re brave enough to let your mind go there.)

La Romanza

In another surprising, yet refreshing stylistic twist, La Romanza begins with a keyboard-led bossa nova beat, before being joined by vocals: first in English, sung by Star, then in unison Spanish - mispronounced intentionally, the duo proclaims. “We originally wrote the song with the correct translation, but we wanted it to flow better, so we made it sound like complete gibberish in Spanish in order to make it sound better,” says Willy. This approach, as Willy states, works in the song’s favor - it completes the gaudy, classic sound of Latin romance standards. As the track progresses, however, the sound transitions into the more usual jangle-pop sound of the group. The lyrics reflect this, beginning as a simple profession of love before slowly moving into anger and hatred, with the subject venting their frustration over their lover’s supposed disinterest and ignorance.

Yr Biggest Fan

Similar to Power Walker, Yr Biggest Fan begins with a barebones, earworm-y guitar line, before being joined by powerful, pop-punkish drums. Coming out of a slew of tracks on romance, it focuses more on the previously mentioned topic of identity issues - specifically how devoted fans of influential cultural figureheads tend to obsess over emulating their exact identity, often to a point of complete delusion or harm (“the words you say won’t fit my mouth / so I’ll cut it wide and try to shout”). According to Willy, “I think with a lot of people who are very obsessed with musicians or just celebrities in general, I think they sort of want to be them, and they make their personality into that person. I think they sort of want to replace them, and that’s sort of what the lyrics meant.” The song crescendoes into screaming vocals and louder, faster drums, before culminating in a surprisingly soft, harmony-rich close, once again showing off the duo’s impressive, complex vocal arrangements.

Skateboard Cretins

If there were a single song on this album which best represented the noise-pop sound Willy Rodriguez is known for, it would be this one. Though slightly slower than some of the more punk-influenced songs, the track still contains the band’s trademark guitar tone and accompanying splashy drums. Lyrically, the track focuses on the storied teenage archetype of aimlessly drifting skater kids who spend lackluster days indulging in drugs and sex (hence the title, Skateboard Cretins). This commonality of teen boredom, especially in suburbia, was a large motivator for Willy within the writing of the album as a whole. “I sort of had this idea for another album while writing songs for this one, of different experiences in the Midwest area, because there’s not a lot to do in the Midwest,” says Willy. “So I think I wrote from that.” Another apparent theme within the song is that of neglectful parent figures, with the lyrics stating, “I know you think it’s no surprise / but your baby boy wants to die.”

Loverboy Rag

This simple, roughly-thirty-second interlude is actually the single collaboration with other artists on the album: carter c, indie pop artist and owner of Willy Rodriguez’s record label, friend’s house, and Gustavo Nome, frontman of friend’s house band Monkey and the Permavirgins. The track, unlike every other on the album, is a simple profession of love, unburdened by any other influences, and contains classic romantic harmonies and guitar strums to match. The song was a successful shot on Star’s part to experiment with a new sound: “Star really wanted to make a barbershop quartet for the longest time, ever since the first album, but we didn’t do it, but since we had different people on friend’s house, we asked Carter and Gustavo to feature on the song with us for a barbershop quartet,” says Willy.

Breezeblock Trainstop

Calling back to the softer influences of Valentine Homicide, Breezeblock Trainstop begins with a simple acoustic guitar before quickly transitioning into an explosive chorus. If one were to interpret Silly Love Songs for Unfortunate Breakups as a story, Breezeblock would be the conclusion - a close on the mishaps and problems of the central character, and the only song written partially from an outside perspective. As the song states, “It’s about a pretty boy / who never knew his name / he hid inside his room / and clipped off his angel wings.” The identity issues which have continued to show themselves throughout the album are once again highlighted here, as well as the themes of troubled, meaningless relationships (“you kiss him on the mouth / but it didn’t mean a thing”).

A favorite of many fans, the song is also a sonic triumph in the band’s opinion. “I think it’s really cool when we play around with different genres, and that’s kind of what Breezeblock Trainstop was,” says Willy. The track ends the album on a more melancholy note, with the subject claiming to have given up. Ending the song with an abrupt cutoff - as opposed to other songs fading out or having a definite conclusion - could allude to the “story” not quite being over for the subject yet, despite their claims.

To cover every topic and genre covered within Willy Rodriguez’s Silly Love Songs for Unfortunate Breakups, a lot more writing than this would be necessary. The best way to truly become familiar, though, is to listen to the album for yourself - it’ll be a different experience for everyone, with varying degrees and aspects of relatability and emotions. The intimacy of the lyrics on every track help to create a special connection with each listener, making Willy Rodriguez a very personal project not only for the creators, but for the fanbase as well. As I continued to listen and relisten to this album, I found myself returning to songs over and over again, eventually putting on the full album while running errands and working. I can confidently say that not a single track on this album is unenjoyable, and a great majority of them very easily become earworms after just one listen. After releasing a full album, though, the two-piece isn’t resting yet - a city-pop inspired album is alleged to be in the works, as well as potential upcoming shows with other members of the friend’s house record label. No matter what Willy Rodriguez decides to create next, their extensive reach over genres and fans will ensure them success in any endeavor.

(Star was at a PetSmart while this interview was being conducted.

Per the artist’s stylistic choice, both carter c and friend’s house records are not meant to be capitalized.)

Stella Garner, also known by pen name stella marie, is a 17-year-old writer and poet from Las Vegas, Nevada. Her articles and work focus on music and media analysis, editorials, news, and more. She also has an extensive range of poetry and collages featured on her Instragram, @dostoevskyfanclub. Find more information at stellamariewrites.carrd.co.

#willy rodriguez #noise pop #indie rock #star starer #stella garner #indie pop #bedroom pop

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vanessahernandez3d · 4 months

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Blog #7 and #8: Yungblud's song 'Mars': Creating Affect + Representation

In this blog post I will analyze the song 'Mars' from the British artist Yungblud as well as its music video under the scope of Affect and Representation; how does it create emotional engagement and how effective is it? Is the representation presented in the video relevant? Can the lyrics of the song be a representation of a group by themselves?

How does Yungblud create emotional engagement with the song Mars and create affect in the audience?

Let's start by setting some context on who Yungblud is. Yungblud is a British singer and songwriter who has become known for his 'pop-punk-rap style, his politically inclined lyrics, and his rebellious personality'. (Rolling Stone, 2019) He's also very well known because of his openness about his sexuality and for always trying to create a community for the LGBT+ community and 'outsiders' to safely express themselves and be who they are. His songs are always about the struggles he has had throughout his life and the hardships he has encountered while trying to fit in into a society that was always trying to put him in a box. Because of how he pours himself into his music and is always very open and direct with his own experiences, Yungblud is an artist who very easily creates affect with his art, hence connecting with people.

As we learned during the seminars. affect is a very abstract concept; it is the 'capacity that something or someone has to affect or to be affected'. (Gregg and Seigworth 2009: 2) It is not an emotion per se, but rather an energy or an intensity.

'Affect is found in those intensities that pass body to body (human, nonhuman, part-body, and otherwise), in those resonances that circulate about, between, and sometimes stick to bodies and worlds, and in the very passages or variations between these intensities and resonances themselves' (Gregg and Seigworth 2009: 1)

So, how does Yungblud emotionally engage with his audience through his song 'Mars' and its music video? Let's get into what the song is about. This song talks about feeling like you don't fit in or belong anywhere and that you are just a weirdo to society. Especially this is a song for the LGBT+ community and being afraid to express yourself as you are in society.

'Yungblug wrote this song as an anthem for misfits and rebels, aiming to express the frustrations and struggles faced by those who don’t conform to the mainstream.' (Barret, 2023.)

So, for starters, the lyrics have a strong meaning by themselves; this combined with the song's melody creates an impact on the listener. However, I think that it is more likely that only listeners who identify with Yungblud's experience or have somehow experienced something similar will be moved and affected by them, but it's not necessarily this way.

And she was only 17 Had the saddest pair of eyes that you have ever seen Wore their lips in the cold, it was matching green But she can't be herself when she's somebody else ... Every morning, she would wake up with another plan Yeah, her mum and dad, they couldn't understand Why she couldn't turn it off, become a better man All this therapy eats away gently ... She dreams she'd go to California There, everyone would adore her ... Do you feel like you're irrelevant? Do you feel like you're just scared as fuck?

This emotional engagement comes full circle with the music video. In the video, we can observe Yungblud sitting in front of a grey background. As the video continues the people sitting in Yungblud's place change, and we start seeing people from different characteristics: skin color, genre, styles, etc. All of them start in a neutral position, all dressed in black while they lip-sync the song's lyrics.

As the song continues, they start applying blue paint to their eyelids with their fingers, and as the chorus approaches they start being grabbed aggressively and harassed by multiple sets of hands that appear in the shot; they begin to lipsync the lyrics more passionately. Most of them have tears forming in their eyes, and small traces of blood appear on their faces.

When we reach the breakdown/end of the song, they start being punched and choked really aggressively and their faces are now covered in blood and scratches. The actors start crying and singing very emotionally. The camera makes a close-up of all the faces and we can see the tears and blood on their faces, as well as the emotion and expressions they are portraying.

Even though the video doesn't have a complex plot structure and the spectator doesn't really have a context to what the video is about except for maybe the lyrics, the raw emotions and intensity of the acting portrayed in the video certainly create emotional engagement with the audience and affect them almost immediately. I think the message of the song/video can be understood perfectly because of how emotionally charged the acting is, the way the actors fully immerse into the storyline; crying, fighting the hands, and singing so passionately; helps the spectator relate to what is happening on the video and moves something in them.

What does this song represent and how does it benefit from this?

As I said earlier in this post, this song talks about the feeling of not fitting in or belonging anywhere. It is a song that represents all the outcasts who feel like they have no place in the world and who are constantly mistreated by society just for being who they are or expressing themselves. Yungblud is known for always speaking out about these types of issues and all of the labels and boxes that society tries to impose on people; especially on people who don't fit the social standards or are considered weird.

You can see by the comments on the YouTube video that this song truly achieved its purpose of representing this sector of the audience and even managed to reach people outside of it. People feel connected to the song and video and feel heard and represented by it. It has become an anthem for them and a safe place for them to go when they are feeling down.

We can clearly see that with the representation portrayed in the video, Yungblud managed to create an effective visual communication with his audience and connect with them through the image, sound and affect it causes; he benefits from it because it helps him make a stronger connection with his audience and to reach not only the targeted people but people from outside the fandom as well, and the message he was trying to

References

Barrett, W, (2023) The Meaning Behind the Song: mars Yungblud [Online] 14 September 2023. Available at: https://oldtimemusic.com/the-meaning-behind-the-song-mars-by-yungblud/ [Accessed: 17 December 2023]

Gregg M., Seigworth G. (2009) The Affect Theory Reader. Durham: Duke University Press

Spanos, B. (2019), ‘Yungblud: Pop-Punk Rebel on a Mission', Rolling Stone, 7 November. Available at: https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/yungblud-interview-artist-you-need-to-know-904078/ [Accessed: 17 December 2023]

Yungblud (2024) mars (Official Video), 27 November. Available at: https://youtu.be/BMA171qWYZk?si=Jw3ckra5sdcV9TsO [Accessed: 17 December 2023]

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ashisgreedy · 9 months

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Fanfiction Writing Asks

(Link to post)

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike? - Most of my ideas come from daydreams.

Where do you get your fic ideas? - Songs, art, c.ai, talking with friends.

Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself? - I usually share them with someone. But If its super niche, I just keep quiet and write it lol.

How do you choose which fics to write? - What ever is sparking the most joy at the moment or what ever is easiest for my brain to produce.

What’s the last line you wrote? - "Garreth gasped out of a dead sleep, his eyes shot open as he cluched his chest, panting. He sat up in bed and tore the covers off. Pulling the string to his bedside lamp, he sighed in relief."

Post a snippet from a wip. -Does that count ^

Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip. - He gets to start over again, anew.

Does this word [chosen by asker] appear in your current wip? NA

Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time? -Usually just work on whatever is calling me that day, but I do hop around if I am just not feeling something that day.

Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around? -I try my hardest to write it in order, but most of the time I do write snips of the fic here and there as I outline it just to get the scene out of my system.

Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them? -Yes, about 99% of the time. It's very rough and just random dialogue I want to use, locations, phrases ect. I do stray from it. Sometimes the ideas coming as I write are better than the outline. What's the fun in always coloring in the lines? :D

Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently? -Yesss. Usually music without lyrics. Lyrics distract me. What I'm currently listening to as we speak.

What is your favorite location and position to write in? -My couch, criss cross apple sauce with the laptop on my popup coffee table.

What’s your favorite time to write? -Anytime really. Fav time is when the inspo is just too strong to ignore!

Do you write by hand, on your phone, or on your laptop? -HAND!? Good lord, no lmfao. I do use my phone when I'm at work (or in bed) and my laptop when not at work.

Do you have a writing routine? -Get horny, then write smut.

Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research? -Fuck no lol. I also didn't grow up with HP and I can't be fucked to look up what an auror is or if vampires exist in the world. (I have read some of the books and watched all the moves many times over. Just didn't grow up picking apart every HC and what not. sad face)

Do you enjoy creating OCs or do you prefer to stick solely to canon characters? -I have OC's in my head. One in particular is Cole. I wrote him into one fic, but most people dont like/dont care about OCs. So, I just have him in my back pocket for now. I prefer cannon chars I guess. Or just use MC/reader insert.

Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics? -Most of my fics are outside of the cannon-ish to fit my narrative. So... 50/50?

Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots? -ONESHOTS!

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles? -Usually before, or while writing the summary. The 5% of the time I can't think of a title I use song lyrics as inspo. Boom, title done.

Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest? -I would say writing the beginning is the easiest. I just wish the damn thing would write it self. I wanna read it! lol

How do you choose whose POV to write in? -Depending on the story line. I usually write povs from the perspective of the MC/reader, but I do have a wip where its from Gars prospective. I just don't like writing from the guys prospective cuz it seems less immersive? idk.

What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)? -I like the outlining process and the finished product lol

What’s your least favorite part of the writing process? -Coming up with reasons WHY they are at a location or WHY they are doing a task. I just want to write smut :(

What area of writing do you feel strongest in? -Uh, Hm.... Maybe making things short and sweet and easy to read. This is mostly so my short attention span can edit the fic. Otherwise, I cant be fucked to care if its super wordy.

What area of writing do you want to improve in? -Showing not telling. "He was angry" vs. "He stomped out of the room and slammed the door." I just need to work on it.

What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of? -That I've ever finished anything lol. And, that I stick to writing what I want and not writing to please others. Its good because this way I don't experience burnout like I did in other fandoms.

How much do you edit your fics? Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft? -I try not to edit as I write. It slows down the process so much! Then I am left with something half-assed and half finished. I usually edit after i've written what I want and add more/take away from the fic as I see fit. I then run it through grammarly software and then put it into a text to speech generator to have the fic read to me outloud to catch any strange wordings or errors that way. Words nicely.

Do you use a beta reader/editor? -Nah. I dont really care to have anyone edit it for me. I'll do it myself and not bother anyone lol. If i have someone edit something, ill be sure to pay them for their time.

Do you take fic requests? Why or why not? -Yeah! but, it will most likely come out as a drabble and I will only do things that 'spark joy' so to speak.

Is there a specific word count that you hold yourself to/enjoy writing the most? -Nah, I do like to keep it under 5k because its harder to edit the longer the fic gets and, like I said, I have a short attention span for editing.

How much of your personal life/experience do you include in your fics? -I guess a good amount? Helps to have done most of the stuff I write about so I can accurately describe it.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve posted? -Garr's anal fic.

What fic are you proudest of? - atm Jackdaw smut cuz it made a lot of ppl start to simp for him and everyone was super nice about it. So pure D:

What fic has been the hardest for you to write? -Continuing my Professor Garreth Series that I started this blog with. I just lost interest from some feedback I was getting about it being too short and yea...

What is your most self-indulgent posted story? -Jackdaw smut

What’s your most self-indulgent wip? -Gar is a shifter in it 👀

What is your favorite world that you’ve created for a fic? NA

Who’s your favorite character you’ve written? - Garreth

What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with? "I Like Men On Their Knees~"

Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet? -Dub con, Mommy Kink, pegging, pain kink

What is your favorite genre to write? - SMUT! Romance

What genre/trope do you tend to write the most? -Smut, romance.

If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be? -Modern Au

Is there a trope that you’ve written before but are now sick of? -Kinda hate writing fluff tbh. I like reading fluff about Gar but I don't like coming up with the fluff on my own. I just want to be railed.

Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom? -Garreth, and nope. Still Gar lol

What fic of yours would you say is the best introduction to you as a writer? NA

How would you describe your writing style? -Short, sweet, easy to read? (hopefully. at least for me it is.)

Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read? -Uh, no actually. Well, I want to read more intense shit about gar but the fandom is still kinda new so that will come eventually. lol

What’s the average word count of your fics? -UHHH 3-6k?

What is the most-used tag on your ao3? Garreth Weasley x MC

What’s the fandom/pairing distribution of your posted fics? I read this Q like 4 times and I still have no idea what its asking.

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc? -Yea... orgasms, she's always "flying" like stfu Ash 😂

Are there any fics that you would change or rewrite if given the chance? -Yes, but I don't have the attention span for that. You get what ya got.

How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics? -I do it sometimes! If I think of it while writing haha.

Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written? NA

Have you participated in any fic events/writing challenges? If yes, what were they and did you enjoy them? - Yes! I've hosted events in the past in other fandoms. I will do it again for this one eventually. I like them/they are exhausting. Lost of fun! can lead me to burn out if I'm not careful.

In [insert fic], what inspired the idea for the plot? NA In [insert fic], what’s your favorite scene that you wrote? NA In [insert fic], is there a deleted scene/idea you wish you could have included? Why did it get cut? NA What was the hardest part of writing [insert fic]? NA If you rewrote [insert fic] now, would you change anything? NA If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would happen in it? What’s a fun fact about [insert fic]? NA If a fic was titled [insert made up title], what would this story be about/how would you write it? NA

Are there any fics that influenced you to write the way you do? - Cuffmeinblack's writing and Blueraineshadows. I look up to both of them a lot. Their writing is so descriptive without being too wordy and its always fun to read!

What are your favorite fics at the moment? -I'm just happy anytime Garreth fics are posted tbh

Are you subscribed to any writers on AO3? -Yes! I try to sub to all my friends.

Do you spend more time reading or writing? - Writing. I get this weird readers-block??? I can only read things like one or two days a week and mayyyybe if something is super short, I'll give it a go. Otherwise, it goes into my TBR for when I have the capacity to read and comprehend.

What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten? -That the fic was 'hot' and that I caputred the intimate moment well! I was so happy to hear that. AND just all the comments of people liking my stuff I love yall sm.

What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing? -Just that they thought it was hot. Very nice of them.

Do you have a fic you wish got a bit more love? - Garreth fics. This fandom is mostly Seb and Omi stans. (Love seb and omi) but Garreth stuff gets ignored/overlooked a lot. NBD, I like writing and reading what gets put out.

Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect? -Jackdaw smut I REALLY thought people were going to ignore this one, but it blew up and I was so shocked.

How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external? -I take time off from it.

Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction? -Its a great outlet! And I love creating content a lot. It's fun finding more like minded people to brainrot with.

What motivates you during the writing process? -....cock

Do you have any writing advice you want to share? -Use a program to read your fic to you out loud. like this one. It helps a lot to find errors, weird wording, and pacing issues. And, write what YOU want to write. Being popular is cool and all, but it sucks being popular and being unhappy|burnt out.

Free space - asker can come up with any writing or fic-related question they want!

#ask speaks #ask game #if you want to ask any of the qs I skipped be my guest

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firsttimesinceaugust · 1 year

Photo

Dinner with Gordon Lightfoot, 2008

Remembering Gordon Lightfoot

Canada lost another giant this week. Gordon Lightfoot was one of the first artists I ever listened to, as my brother got his debut album when it came out in 1966 when I was 7 years old, and I just never stopped listening. His music has been with me my whole life.

As a young writer, three of my four songwriting heroes were Canadian, and they were as good as anyone in the world. While Lightfoot and Leonard Cohen are gone now, the other two, Bruce Cockburn and Bob Dylan, are still going strong. (Last year I had the privilege of working with Bruce on this song.)

When I listen to my earliest work, I realize now how much of an influence Lightfoot had on me, particularly on songs like this one, First Time Since August. Small wonder that young songwriters tried to emulate him. He had it all, lyrics that were pure poetry, melodies that were exquisite and a voice of uncommon beauty. Just a few years ago, when I released my album of obscure songs from some of my favourite writers, I included Sit Down Young Stranger, which I had sung since I was a teen, and which dealt with a conversation I had with my own parents, as many of us did.

The first time I saw Lightfoot was at Place des Arts in Montreal in 1977, when he was touring Summertime Dream, featuring the monster hit, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. It was a pretty special evening.

Through my work in the music industry I have been fortunate to meet many of the artists I most admire, but having dinner with Gordon Lightfoot was definitely a highlight. I had flown to Toronto in 2008 to see a pair of Pete Seeger shows I had booked at Hugh’s Room, and when I got there, I found that I was seated at a table with Lightfoot, Sylvia Tyson and music mogul Michael Cohl. No one had told me I would be having supper with Lightfoot, and my nephew Willie, whom I had invited to the show, was more than a little star struck to be rubbing elbows with such legends. Lightfoot was very gracious and easy to be around, and we spoke a lot about Seeger and Woody Guthrie. Those opportunities when I have had the chance to speak to artists who have meant so much to me have been memorable experiences.

Artists like Gordon Lightfoot are never replaced. Yes, there will be other great artists – there always are – but men and women of that caliber are unique, and occupy a place in our hearts that is also unique. I think they become part of the fabric of who we are, and that is a blessing. When you think of people like Lightfoot, Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Bruce Cockburn, Robbie Robertson, it’s easy to see that Canada has always punched above its weight when it comes to songwriters.

Thank you for letting me share these thoughts with you.

#Music #Gordon Lightfoot #Lightfoot

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red19zine · 2 years

Text

Album/EP review

If you've ever had the auditory pleasure of experiencing either one of these bands you'd know that they are both publicly resigned to imaginative labels that are totally subjective and epithetic (not "empathetic" or "apathetic"...EPITHETIC).

Epithets haunted mythological characters and underground artists alike. It's undermining at its finest. It's settling as some "indie rock" embodiment in order to get lackluster hipsters to watch your set on a Wednesday night. Or, it's calling yourself "dark/sorta black metal" because you don't know how to explain to your coworker that your shit is different than what they played at Hot Topic in 2003.

When I think of Mangata, I think of Melanie Martinez mixed with Intronaut: pastel nightmares and groovy pop music paired with hard rock. Mainstream shit is all about the hook and the chorus. Mangata is all about the personality and the reflection of the music's words being bounced onto the audience. I hate you Mangata for making me realize my ex still annoys me in the form of musical bops<3

When I think of Writhings, I think of YOB mixed with Gulch: weirdly easy to listen to, but also disturbingly energizing for such heaviness. The balance is achieved due to the bass always

droppin' it

down

low,

and it makes me wanna

back

that ass

up during "Still Breathing".

Plus, the vocals resemble the friendly growl of the narrator in Michael Jackson's Thriller. Ya know, listening to good metal feels like doing a yoga meditation in order to achieve anger and tranquility...metal heads get it. Writhings gets it.

One thing I'll say about Mangata is that there is so much concept in their music videos that I didn't know people in South Louisiana could be so alternative with art. I'm from South Louisiana.

I like alternative music because it makes me feel smart. That's sayin' something.

My point being that Mangata brings a world-awareness to their craft that should not only be appreciated but emulated in our music community, in my opinion. They take risks. They don't give a fuck about reception, yet always deliver. Take a note, newbies. These artists I'm about to respectfully refer to have earned their stripes and accolades.

Alas, without further ado...

I will review some shit and say some shit.

First up,

MANGATA:

Good music. Good videos. Good service to Kate Bush.

To start, here's some lyrics that I'm pretty sure I transcribed right:

"I don't wanna be this shape anymore..."

"I made you on accident."

"I am satiated by...why did I let them empty myself up to be full of you."

"You grew out your hair."

The album conveys the implosions of false narratives in love and life, as well as, the inevitable moment where we all see our ex has indeed grown out their hair. If you don't know the moment I'm referring to, you may be the subject of the fourth track on Hososhi.

"Pettifogger"- the definition being: 'An inferior legal practitioner, especially one who deals with petty cases or employs dubious practices." I fucking Googled it, yo. Listening to this song my favorite line is: "Your progress is harmless if you can read what I'm saying...your progress is harmless if you have to pack up in the morning." At least, that's what I think Gilley's saying. Either way, ouch. Groovy and spacey and mean and fun. I like.

"Hi Lvl Talks"- the perfect summer break-up track for when you're:

still sad but are moved on but also are on a beach

happy because you can hang with your homies because you're single

know you and your ex are probably gonna get back together in a month or two

Overall, the entirety of the album makes you question if you're really okay. And if you're not okay, then that's okay.

For fans of: good music that's not rock or rap, scornful lullabies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writhings:

So underground, they don't use Spotify or perform much...which means they're automatically good.

Metal. My love I never knew I was missing until my archaeology class discussed some fucker who burned Louisianian churches in the name of Norwegian Black Metal (long live the "Deathcrush" album and Neo-Nazi memes).

See, I like my shit dark, visceral, and guttural.

Writhings is more dark, visual, and guttural.

I say "visual" because as much as I love metal...I don't know what the homies are spitting unless they attach lyrics. Black metal and death is perfect for this approach to experiencing music, but Writhings is definitely a bit more faceted. The band's Instagram is an apropos addition to the music they put out. The music isn't metal that is talking about killing moms or worshipping deities...it's metal that is meant to make you feel malignantly accepted. I may not know what they're saying, but what I do know is that, Sean- the lead vocals and guitar- has a love for cereal killers and all their crazy Trix (get it?) Sorry...I'm really milkin' my opportunity to drop some puns into this review and making it more Cheeri-o.

I need some sleep soon.

!!!!!!BACK TO THE MUSIC!!!!!

Gotta say: bass and drums are the stars of every track on this EP. The members of the band are all seasoned and experienced in the industry of metal music- AKA the practice of strumming and beating things very passionately for audiences that pay money to watch in usually darkly-setted bars (according to Webster's Dictionary). However, their differing influences and interests come through real peak in one masterful cacophony of flavors. D-beat punk (which, I didn't know was a type of music until I saw the hashtags the band uses on their Bandcamp), doom, hard rock, and even the snippets of various serial killer interviews are actors in the work.

"DVMF"- Is the band's first single and the song I legit played on repeat while I cleaned my room at night until the full EP came out. I think this song encapsulates the Writhings sound pretty damn well.

"Under and Evil Hand"- I would hold hands with the *evil* hand responsible for creating the band's ability to compose such a perfect sludge/doom blend. Once you get the ear for it, ya hear the two types of metal blending like those milkshake blenders at Race Trac.

Ya read that comparison right. Just like a fancy gas station takes you by surprise with their milkshakes that actually let you choose which consistency- thin, regular, or thick- Writhings takes you by surprise with their brief, but effective catalog that actually lets you choose which level of nasty you wish to embrace as you embark on a musical journey, or whatever.

In closing, The Lollipop Gospel seduced me with sad seahorses and a sermon known as Mangata's cover of "Maneater". Meanwhile, Hell of the Upside Down Sinners, AKA Writhings, turned this sinner upright; after already being blessed by some killer prog-pop, I listened to some divine revelations vocalized by Sean in Writhings...basically we are all evil and we're all grasping for sanity. Some people are just able to manage with music, writing, or weed. Some people manage by becoming notorious serial killers so that Writhings can perform songs about them and do the victims justice by playing good music (did you know serial killers historically have pretty tame taste in music, actually?) I am not a serial killer, musician, or person with tame music taste. I am a writer who likes weed though and was grasping for sanity quite a bit my whole life. These two bands lend out a hand to listeners. An evil hand that is holding a lollipop.

-Miranda Davis

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oldgooddaysoldgooddays · 2 years

Text

“R is helping me fix my balcony door and already coached me through how to ask an engineer to install my new cooker”, I text V from my couch, “king behaviour”. We spend a great deal of time discussing how R is a god among men, his extensive knowledge of art handling / fixing things combined with a salesmanship that is neither creepy nor oppressive. Endless patience. In a bunch of ways I owe him my life because he put my work on V’s desk 5 years ago. I’d known him for a couple of years before that, when he was R of Old, a lost chain smoker who lived in a building without floors and smelled of blood because he temped at a metal workshop. Once he bought a pair of confusing pink cargo pants with - I can’t explain - multiple geometric tassels snaking up the leg I hated him when we first met in the project space I’d been invited to work at for free, as the token woman. He was significantly younger than the other men and they bossed him around, so R tried bossing me around a little to establish dominance. I was an actual teenager and dutifully tended bar, was never allowed to touch the press releases in Adobe InDesign or meet with quote-unquote important visitors. Instead I helped each artist with menial tasks and ran out for Actimel. I learned a lot about how a show is made, how long it’s meant to take, which nobody teaches you at art school but should I was never allowed to choose the music we listened to at any time of day, such was the doubt in my tastes. R would put Beyoncé’s “Halo” in such heavy rotation at the after parties I still cant listen to that song without feeling like a nobody. But my god, could R dance. His midriff had a life of its own, his legs balletic. He danced the way extroverted gay men dream of dancing. Once he stole a black-light from the gallery he would later leave to work for V, and installed it in the project space. I remember his insane gyration and his lit-up teeth moving to the lyric “I’ve been drinking / I’ve been drinking” He and I watched each other grow up. He saw my worst heartbreak and my becoming an artist. I saw him try to make art, then his early pains of working for V and his long term relationship developing its solid foundation. At some point we both started making money and dressing nicer We became colleagues - my paintings partially contributing to his pay check and his diligent support making my paintings happen. We both got sober, and R kicked cigarettes. I didn’t kick cigarettes but I did learn to drive - perhaps the only thing I have in my arsenal that R doesn’t. We see each other buy property which, as two kids of divorce, means something special. I want to mock his AirPods but know he could clap back with my wearing Issey Miyake to paint in. Both phenomena are obnoxious in their own ways, but both were also hard-earned. Now the guy who ordered us about at the project space is paid to wrap my paintings according to R’s specifications. We know he thinks we’ve sold our souls to some imagined art world devil, which you only really hear from people who didn’t get a seat at the table. This is why the embittered art handler is such a reliable trope. Most people from that project space era have an axe to grind; but all I wish I could do is thank them for bringing me to R, who brought me to V, who made everything I make what it now is. I also saw a cat give birth to kittens during a party, got so drunk I thought I was going to die, and saw someone shoot a rat with a gun

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

A Thriller Film

pairing: director!Jungkook x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere, smut

synopsis: Jungkook's life is his movies, but people don't know his movies are his life. As an anonymous director, no one can suspect him as the villain in a story, but he leaves a clue in his movie about you.

warnings: smoking, stalking, murder, solo masturbation, public fingering

word count: 5.4k

a/n: i don't know why i put so much effort into this but we love to see it flop 🥰

Smoking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Jungkook noticed you for the first time when a cigarette was hanging off his lips, exhaling the stress from the process of organizing a new thriller film with a less than cooperative crew. Fresh out of high school, you were bright and skipping on the sidewalk in the early hours of the morning. What would such a young woman, applying for colleges left and right, be so happy about?

He didn't know you at the time, but looking at you was like a breath of fresh air. While he survived off of coffee and nicotine, you seemed to have a lot of happiness to share. Your smile was incompatible with his frown.

So he ignored you when you passed him with your earphones blasting a song so loud, he involuntarily caught the lyrics.

Fall... back... in... to... place.

The second time he saw you, he was smoking again and you were just as happy as the day before. How can someone be so in tune with themselves, with life? The same song played from your earphones, the one he listened to on repeat after searching up the lyrics: Space Song. An urge to approach you surged up in him, but he only watched you as you walked past him. A single glance from you was all it took to anticipate tomorrow.

Today, when he recognizes you from your clothing first; colorful, silky, gorgeous. So much personality in one outfit, a polar opposite to his casual black outfit in jeans and a plain shirt. Even your bag is eye-catching, and he flicked the ash off of his cigarette before nodding at you as you passed the bus stop, reaching the front of his studio.

Why did your eyes just widen? You acknowledge him with a friendly smile, and go on your merry way. That is until he lightly taps your shoulder, and you turn instantly.

"Hey," he greets before you can utter a word, "where are you always rushing off to?"

Your lips part in surprise; the man you secretly - guiltily - side-eyed for the past few days noticed you when you weren't looking? "I have an interview. Well, a few," you chuckle.

"For what?" he tilts his head curiously and takes another drag from his stick.

"Career counseling," you plainly reply, but it sounds enthused. "I'm a clueless graduate." Your hands clutch your tote bag before you discreetly check the time on your wrist. You're going to be running late soon.

"You interested in cinematography?" Smoke follows his words, but you aren't fazed.

"I'm interested in all forms of art, why?"

He notices you checking your watch again. "I'm a film director. This is my studio," he cranes his neck behind him. "You can apply for an internship here. Maybe for a stylist even," he points at your floral romper with his chin as his eyes trail.

You shift your weight on your left foot when his stare flusters you, and you consider his flattering suggestion for only a second before saying, "thank you for the offer, but I need to go now," you grimace sheepishly, "can I think about it?"

"Take your time," he reassures with a sly smile and inhales from his stick, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of your perfume alongside.

He doesn't look away when you walk off with a shy wave, entranced by your struts until he's called back in. It's with newfound inspiration that he's inside of his studio.

The storyboard of his upcoming project needs a few tweaks, and he doesn't fail in enhancing his crew with a different idea.

It’s been a week. Okay, it might’ve been shorter, but Jungkook is impatient. Besides, it didn’t help when he saw you holding hands with someone... so less than. It really baffled him to see you with a guy who wore such shabby clothes. He looks like the type that Jungkook would cast for a flop character.

The two of you are like a toy display across his studio in that cutesy, obnoxious café with a smoothie in the middle of your booth. He chuckles as he lights up another stick when he notices the two straws in the single cup. Cliché, cheesy, but cute in a childish sense. Your age shines through the amateur romance between you and that loser.

It especially shows when you look to the side with a laugh and lock eyes with him; so flustered that you gasp and focus back on your date. What makes you so shy about seeing him? You seemed so confident during your conversation two days ago.

He whistles when he notices a stray dog in an alleyway. You look at him as well but don't hear anything beyond the glass wall, but it catches his attention regardless. He whistles again before saying in a hushed voice, "come here girl." It's difficult to suppress a smile when you gaze at him questioningly, as if trying to decipher his words. "Naive little girl," he mouths as he smokes, "what are you doing with that boy?"

He almost chokes when you take out your wallet in front of a waiter; are you paying for him? That's why you ordered one drink - so you could share? Jungkook isn't cruel but, he finds it laughable that your boyfriend is so... unappealing. He can't help but wonder why you're with him; maybe his face? The boy is somewhat handsome, but he only has his facial features to go by. It's rather strange for Jungkook to think about this in the first place, so he gets back inside his workplace after harshly shooing the stray dog away with a stomp of his foot.

"I'd like to start my internship today."

Jungkook runs his eyes up and down your body while leaning against a brick wall. "Paid?"

"I-I'll do it for free. Besides, I don't know if I'll even work in this industry," you twiddle your fingers while smiling up at him. He intimidates you, but this morning you decided you did enough thinking and here you are, an aspiring stylist all of a sudden.

"Get inside," he nods at the door before stubbing his cigarette and following you to his studio. "You know what you're going to do?"

"I'm going to decide the outfits, right?" The place looks cozy to you, with its minimalistic interior design and blunt switch between the stories. The first floor is strictly for business, with lined up cameras, lights and a microphone. There is even a green screen! And the second floor seems to be more of a resting area with its couches and open laptops, but you can't make out much from the entrance. Jungkook starts walking ahead of you, making a beeline for the black stairs. You tail behind him and smile at anyone who notices you, which isn't a lot of people. It's not crowded.

"Right. We're still working on a storyline, haven't finished it yet so it's possible this project might not be published. You with me so far?" he glances at you, and at your firm nod, continues, "when we finish planning, scripting and shit, you come to play."

"So what do I do now?" you innocently inquire and watch him plop down on the red velvet couch. He clicks on the space of his keyboard to light up his screen.

"I have an idea for a character, and I want to know how you would design her," he vaguely explains as he scrolls through his document.

"You want me to sketch it or explain?"

"Let's hear you out first. Irene," he suddenly calls out loudly.

"Yes?" a female responds from downstairs. You see a woman with a grey cap look up at him, her attire nothing short of casual.

"Come here."

She skips a few steps while climbing up the stairs at his command. You're not awkward when you greet her, and she offers a coy smile.

"This girl - what did you say your name was?" he asks you. You tell him and he continues, "she's going to be our intern. I want you to critique her with me."

"What's she in for?" Irene asks before sitting across from him.

"Wardrobe stylist."

Her eyes widen as she takes a second look at you. Your style is definitely unique, but... immature. She has half the mind to not question Jungkook about his choice.

"Okay..." she trails. "I'm Irene, by the way. I'm going to be an executive producer for the upcoming film."

"Nice to meet you," you brightly chirp. "Sir?"

Jungkook smirks at your addressing of him. "Yes?"

"What is your name, if I may ask?"

"I'm Jeon Jungkook, but you may know me for my pen name Shin Dong-hyuk."

Your mouth falls open when you instantly recognize the name. "Wait, what? You directed My Time?" you incredulously wonder aloud.

My Time is a movie that took the world by a storm; it brought recognition to the whole country for its popularity and clever writing. You never knew the name was a pseudonym, however. It's a suspense genre, about the life of a crazed fanboy who is obsessed with a foreign celebrity. He stalks her on the internet, has a fanpage of her and pays a hefty amount of money to strangers to update him on her whereabouts. He's portrayed as a young college student in the story, and inevitably runs out of cash from reckless spending. When she gets into a dating scandal, he goes on a theft spree and flies out to meet and confront her. It ends with her murder when he finds her with another man in a hotel room, and he stabs himself in the heart afterwards. There are a bunch of clues that foreshadow his ending, from his family life to his friendships. It's an amazing thriller, and you researched his name in the credits to find more of his works after seeing the movie but to no avail; there is only one listed.

"That's me," he nonchalantly reveals as if he didn't just give you the shock of your life. "Don't tell anyone though, will you?"

You whimsically put on an imagery zipper over your mouth while trying to recover from your racing heart.

"I don't have a clear outline, but the female lead is going to be naive but charming. She has to stand out, alright? Happy, extraordinary, special."

"We didn't decide on that," Irene butts in with a displeased expression.

"I forgot to tell you, I deleted our previous plan."

"You did wh-"

"What do you think?" he turns to you as he ignores Irene's shrieks. "What color are you imagining?"

You feel nervous when he puts you on the spotlight after revealing his identity. You close your eyes with a deep inhale before answering, "I'm thinking red and green, like Christmas. There should be a hint of white as well."

Jungkook drinks in your outfit before grinning mischievously. "Perfect." All of your colors.

Stalking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Is it such a bad idea to follow you home when it's dark out? He kept you for a long time in the studio, allowing you to dress up a mannequin with all sorts of costumes you had in mind in the backroom. He's certain you had fun with him when you left with a permanent grin on your face.

You live with your parents, and he knows for sure he's at least 5 years older than you. You look about 19, so he's assuming he's only 8 years older.

A small villa with windows all around, he observes, before glancing back at your bedroom. The lights are on and you're swinging your legs with excitement on your bed after you face planted on the mattress. He didn't see you greet your parents before running off to your room, and he can't help the smile growing on his face at your hyperactivity. It was like an instinct to walk you home in secret and he isn't sure why he is still watching you. He should look away when you get off of your bed and heave your shirt over your chest, but instead he steps away from the lamp post to hide from the light.

You're changing, and he can't take his eyes off of you. As if that wasn't enough, you unclasp your bra without even pulling the curtains. Do you know he's there? The thought excites him, and his pants begin to tighten around his crotch. He lowly whistles at you, but you don't hear him again. You do look outside for a few seconds while stretching your arms, however, and he's certain you have a connection to him.

He leaves when you put on your pajamas with the image of your bare tits imprinted on his mind. He doesn't head home first, as the studio is only a few minutes away from your home and he wants to leave you a gift.

When the familiar building enters his vision, he doesn't waste time in unlocking the door and switching on a single dim light. He rushes to the backroom after locking the entrance for a second time and unzips his jeans as he goes. You were here not too long ago, and he can pinpoint exactly where you stood while striding to each corner with purpose. Bending, crouching, leaning, doing just about anything to tease him.

Now that he can imagine your perky nipples realistically, he immediately takes out his length from his restraints and picks up a random handkerchief to pump himself with. He doesn't stop to think over his actions; he's acting on urges, on impulse. Never has he ever done something like this.

He's rather relaxed as he sits down on an idle stool to close his eyes and run his hand up and down his shaft. What he would do to press your tits against his cock while he slides it up and down, smearing his cum all over your lips while you sleep. You would swallow it without a second thought once he finishes in your gaping mouth, and wonder why there's a dull ache in your breasts the next morning.

His breaths grow shallow the faster he strokes himself, the more he thinks about using every part of you for his pleasure while you're knocked out cold. He involuntarily thrusts into the air while quiet moans slip out of his open mouth. Something about how taboo it would be to fuck you while you're unconscious turns him on so much. Would that be something you're into?

The handkerchief is so soft, so silky against his length, he can almost imagine it to be your hand. He starts twisting his hand around his cock, from the base to the tip as his other hand palms his balls before he begins to reach climax. Strings of cusses fall out of his mouth when he quickens his pace, the fabric against his skin resounding in his ears before he finally spurts out his cum into the cloth.

"Fuck," he exhales as he coats his makeshift glove with his release. White on white doesn't make much of a difference, and he's panting as he folds the handkerchief to rub it evenly so it sinks in completely.

He leaves it on the stool after zipping his pants, and his eyes twinkle under the moonlight on his journey home.

You aren't alone when you walk to work. Jungkook is taking his usual smoke break while watching you swing your interlocked hands back and forth with the guy next to you. Your smiles exude the same aura, and Jungkook sarcastically notes how compatible the two of you are. The boxy grin shines with the sun, but it doesn't hide the boy's worn out clothes.

"Good morning, Jungkook," you greet before introducing your boyfriend. "This is Taehyung, Taehyung meet Jungkook. I'm going to be under his wing until I decide my major."

"Hello, Taehyung," Jungkook coldly says before blowing smoke in his face.

Taehyung scrunches his nose before chirping, "hi!" He then turns to you and whispers, "I thought you wanted to study medicine."

You shake your head dismissively with a light laugh before responding, "it's just an internship." You let go of his hand and bid farewell with a peck on his cheek before going inside the studio.

"Well, have a good day," Taehyung smiles as he's about to leave before Jungkook holds out his hand to block the way.

"Taehyung, who is your girlfriend?"

"Um," he furrows his brows before saying your name.

"And who are you?"

At Jungkook's blunt question, Taehyung pauses and takes a step back. "What do you mean? Like my full name?"

"No, who the fuck are you? What is your contribution to society? What do you do for a living? What are you wearing?"

"Sir, I-" Taehyung's stammering is cut short when Jungkook asks, "how much money for you to stop leeching off of her?"

He scoffs, "excuse me? I'm not leeching off of anyone, and I'm sure as hell not breaking up with her for your money." Taehyung's face heats up from the shameless confrontation, and he starts walking in the opposite direction.

"So you're not going to leave her?"

Taehyung doesn't turn to look at him as he emphasizes, "no."

"Good."

He abruptly stops in his tracks. "What?"

"Your dedication is admirable," Jungkook comments with a shrug. "I'm satisfied with your answer."

"Were you testing me?"

"Bingo."

He starts chuckling before shaking his head. "I always knew directors were crazy; you scared me for a second."

"Where you headed now?" Jungkook smoothly switches the subject, but notes the fact that you've spoken about him to your boyfriend.

"I have a farm two blocks away." When Jungkook raises a brow, he explains, "I stayed the night with her, so I decided to drop her off before leaving."

"Want me to drop you off?"

It's a kind offer, really, but Taehyung is still put off by the insults thrown his way just a minute ago. Doesn't he have work to do anyway? "That's alright, thank you, but I'll just take the bus. Have a good one, Jungkook."

Jungkook doesn't stop him as they both wave goodbye. He doesn't bother putting out his cigarette before going inside.

Where would be a farm only two blocks away from the city center? It has to be a lie.

You're wandering around the place as to not awkwardly wait for Jungkook who sharply inhales at the sight. He calls your name.

"Yes?"

"What do you want to become?"

"I," you look at him funny with a laugh, "I still don't know."

"Then take a gap year."

Your brows shoot up to your hairline. "Why?"

"I want you to be invested in this project completely. Once the planning is finished, I'll give you a salary. What do you think?"

He's asking you to work full-time for him. Not as an intern, but an employee and you are beyond willing after only being here for two days. He's a famous director; how can one pass up this opportunity?

"I'd love that."

You noticed that Jungkook has a very unique way of working. You've heard that he's been keeping his crew until late at night, already having an outline for his plot and he's moved onto screenwriting. He apparently disappears randomly throughout the evening after you leave, and you've had some different experiences with him of your own.

He asked you to steal from the wardrobe of his backroom. "Take everything that you'd wear," he said before stepping out of the room.

When you confusedly compiled all of the clothes that caught your eye under your arm, he took them from you and brought them upstairs with a huge grin. "Keep that one," he pointed at the handkerchief you thought about lacing your neck with.

Taehyung's quiet with you. He doesn't respond to your texts, doesn't call you, doesn't come over. You're too busy spending time with Jungkook to check up on him, and it serves as a well distraction when you keep glancing at your notifications. It hurts, especially when your wallpaper is a picture of you and him. It hurts because he isn't with you in your proudest moments when you were with him even at his parents' funeral.

The only thing keeping you happy is casting. Jungkook asked you to make a list of all the actors that would suit his characters after giving you a vague description of their traits. The budget isn't an issue, and you're having so much fun. He makes you forget your worries without even trying.

Jungkook intimidates you, but he's so lovely.

A mere "aspiring" stylist is casting actors for a movie. How many people can brag about that? You almost stumble on the stairs as you quickly climb up with Jungkook's laptop in your hands. He gave it to you for research purposes as he drew a rough storyboard with Irene.

"I made a list," you exclaim brightly. Heads shoot in your direction and you sheepishly grin at your volume. Jungkook's eyes linger on your covered neck; it's almost like a collar.

He whistles and beckons you to sit next to him. You obey and anxiously present your list to the professionals; you have no idea how to go on about this task, and no one guided you. You're certain you look utterly amateur in front of them.

Irene is inspecting your list without hinting her thoughts as Jungkook asks, "who are your favorites?"

"Well, I think Kim Namjoon is um, suitable for the male lead's role and Joy-"

"It's decided then," he claps his hands twice without hearing out Irene who scowls at him.

"You're not cooperating with us," she voices in a complaint, "why are you always calling the shots on your own? These are major decisions-"

"Ms. Bae, don't take any offence now. I'm taking your opinions into accounts when I make these decisions. Unless you have an issue with something, let's not dwell on this, hm?"

She sighs as you stand there awkwardly. She's upset, but stays silent.

"The two leads are Kim Namjoon and Park Soo-young. The team will decide the rest of the cast, thank you," he informs you with a ghost of a smile.

"Of course," you breathe.

You don't know how long it is supposed to take to shoot a film, but surely it's not this fast paced. Jungkook is relentless with his production; there are hardly any breaks in between takes. There are bags under his eyes from pulling all nighters to work on his scripts.

He is a perfectionist and a hard worker, as you've come to find out. You feel bad for the amount of times the actors recited their lines when they didn't capture a scene right in Jungkook's eyes. It was an honor for you to meet these famous people beyond a screen, and you were strictly ordered to do Joy's makeup only. You are her stylist, but the professional one does help you after she's finished with Namjoon's.

"Cut," Jungkook says into the speaker. You're located in a rented mansion outside of the city, but you can't enjoy it when everyone is so stressed. "Start over from line "he's leeching off of you"."

Even actors can't hide their annoyance from having to do a 25th take of one scene. Jungkook pays them enough to go on with this torture however, so they have no room to complain.

They start over and you force yourself to watch them again and again.

"Oh my god, cut!" You can hardly resist groaning yourself. Everyone on set is overworked, and you know the director has it the worst, but it's overwhelming you too at this point. You flinch when your name is called. "Act Joy's lines, will you?"

"Me?" you point at yourself in surprise.

"Go ahead," he urges with a nod.

You have no idea how to act, and it's nervewracking having to do it in front of A-listers. You pick up the script handed to you from another woman and start reading:

"He's not leeching off of me," you pause to inhale shakily; your hands tremble from the heavy stares on you.

"I'm his family, the only one he has left. No one would know if he was gone, and he trusts me to look after him without having to dangle a dollar bill over his head."

This goes on until the final scene, and the retakes cut down to half.

A few months pass, and it is time for the premiere. The movie, simply titled Pretty Girl, easily got a green light for display in theatres, and it's been heavily promoted on YouTube and TV. You are excited to your core, and watching the celebrities walk the red carpet was a first for you. Jungkook easily blends in with the crowd as he once again didn't reveal his real name in the credits, but his pen name is gaining more and more recognition. You have never seen the movie throughout the editing procedure, but you can't wait to see everyone's efforts show on the big screen.

You're dressed fancily because Jungkook asked you to go with him, and the two of you are sitting in the crowded theatre with not a single empty seat to be seen. Even the entrance is decorated in retro style to fit in with the movie's theme! The jazz music playing in the halls reaches your ears, and your knees are bouncing in anticipation of the movie. Jungkook is smiling as he listens to you ramble.

"I can't believe I played a part in this whole project!" you gush with shaking fists. "I met the best director I know, and I worked for him! This all feels like a dream... No one even likes my style, and yet I became a stylist!"

"I love your style," he denies, "even now you have all the attention in the room."

"Pfft," you roll your eyes playfully, "they all think I must look weird. I tried to wear something classy so I don't stand out, but it hasn't been working out."

"Keep it that way, you're beautiful like this."

Heat creeps up to your cheeks at his compliment and you squeak, "thank you."

He doesn't get to relish your flustered state as everyone goes quiet once the movie starts.

The time period is unclear, as the language is modern but the filter is black and white. The first scene is in a bar, a man in a suit eyeing a woman with a date who is an outcast with his clothes. They're washed out and ugly, but he looks handsome with his dazzling smile at the woman.

An involuntary grin spreads across your face when you hear their dialogue.

"I want to touch someone's shoulder to see how they react. Did you see how they looked at me when I walked in here? I think they think I'm your sugar baby or something," Jimin's character jokes with a laugh.

"I know! They're all so boujee, but I'm willing to be your mommy without sugar," Joy winks. They have fun until Jimin leaves to the bathroom and Namjoon's character approaches her, who has been staring at her ever since they walked in. Joy is offered a modeling career, and she accepts after she's told that her fashion only works with her because of how beautiful she is. She's bashful when Namjoon gives her a business card.

Jungkook's film is only over an hour long, but everything is timed so perfectly. His directory is straightforward, and you admire his work until a song comes on.

"That's my favorite song!" you whisper into his ear. It's Space Song by Beach House.

"Mine too," he whispers back.

There are montages of photo shoots, Joy's rise to fame in the modeling industry, but the trouble is Jimin, her boyfriend. Namjoon confronts him one day when Jimin drops her off to her new workplace.

"How can someone so poor be able to court a woman like her?" he asks rhetorically.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Jimin is offended until Namjoon laughs it off and reveals it was a joke. The audience sighs in relief, and all is fun and games until Jimin is brutally murdered next to a dumpster. You gasp at the gore scene and glance at Jungkook, until something dawns on you.

The story is starting to sound familiar. Was this movie inspired by your encounters? Your eyes light up as you give your utmost attention to the movie. The line between reality and fiction is beginning to blur.

Joy goes to Namjoon's house, where the dialogue you first reenacted comes to play. The shots are gorgeous, the script filled with metaphors on poverty and currency, and the romance is sickly sweet. There is a sex scene not long after... Joy forgets all about her boyfriend in the snap of Namjoon's fingers.

You tilt your head when you remember Taehyung. Where is he? How come your boyfriend didn't even show up to this life-changing experience?

Jungkook's hand slides over your thigh out of nowhere, as he murmurs, "do you mind?"

You stammer when his fingers reach under your dress to poke at your panties. "S-Sorry?"

"I said," he grazes your folds as you tense at the feather light touch, "do you mind if I touch you, pretty girl?"

Your chest heaves as your lashes flutter in a daze, but you nod nonetheless. His low raspy voice already has you clenching your thighs, unintentionally trapping his hand against your pussy. He's gentle, almost curious with the way he runs his fingers over your silky underwear before he moves it to the side. You're shivering with delight and thrill, and you don't take your eyes off of each other as he begins to flick your clit carelessly.

"Looks so pretty on you," he compliments the makeshift choker on your neck. It's his handkerchief you wore for the occasion, unaware that it's dried with cum. He pulls on the knot like it's a collar, and you're entranced. Your pants fan his lips at the close proximity, and he doesn't shy away from slotting his mouth against yours. You quietly moan into the kiss when his thumb starts to rub your clit, and his long finger pokes at your entrance.

"You mind?" he murmurs against your lips, his words slightly slurred as he doesn't stop kissing you. The wet noises are drowned out by the loud volume of the movie, but you can't focus on what's going on.

"I don't," you breathe before he slips in two fingers, exploring your walls with precision. He's multitasking as he circles your sensitive clit, and you're not very experienced in regards to sexual encounters but your hand lands on his hard-on anyway.

"Don't be shy," he chuckles into your neck, "touch it."

You don't know what you're doing when you slip your hand under his pants and palm him over his briefs, but his sigh is encouraging you. You're touching each other in a room of 100 people.

It's embarrassing when his free hand joins yours to help you touch him while simultaneously fingering you. He must have sensed your lack of confidence, because he starts to stroke his erection over your hand. You start to imagine his fingers as the real thing, and with your particularly low stamina, have a hard time suppressing your whines.

"Kiss my neck," he suggests as a solution to your nibbling. You didn't even realize your nether lip is bleeding from how hard you were biting on it. You bury your head in his shoulder and start pecking his neck. He holds back a laugh at how shy you're being, and he feels proud for predicting this moment perfectly in the movie. Joy is having the time of her life with Namjoon, unaware of Jimin decaying in the attic.

He quickens his pace in your cunt, and you bite him rather harshly at the sensation. He hisses with a chuckle; he likes it when you're impulsive. He can pick up the squelches from his thrusts because of how wet you are, and you climax all over his fingers in a matter of seconds with a whimper. You're twitching in your seat, and your hand strokes him faster but he stops you.

"In my studio," he says and you nod tiredly against his shoulder. The issue isn't that he doesn't want to cum in his pants, but the movie needs to become reality. He wants to fuck you on that one stool, with Taehyung's corpse decomposing in the backroom.

Jungkook always adds a pinch of fiction to his stories, but they're mostly based on true events. If you paid attention to the ending, maybe you would've realized that.

Lying is bad, but there are worse things in life.

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