#like you would not be saying that about a rock song that repeats a line throughout it

[shoechoe]

playing rap/hip-hop for family members who like making fun of your music taste and are that "i hate rap i don't consider it real music" type really spotlights how much they do not know anything about or listen to rap and their "criticisms" for it are a bunch of garbage that they wouldn't say about any other music genre

[unproduciblesmackdown]

in the power of Noticing Things The Xth Time Around the instrumentals-imitative "doot. doot. doot. dooWAH" vocals that kick in during the second verse of centerfold? superlative

[mangomonk]

i caught myself

↳ summary: remus goes to a coffee shop for the first time ↳ content: fluff, oblivious idiots x idiots, coffee shop au, rock band!muggle ↳ a/n: i wanted to write something fun and i've been listening to too much of my punk rock playlists from when i was 15. feel very free to listen to "i caught myself" by paramore (or any paramore song) while reading..! i love portrayals of remus as an earnest loser where the reader/sirius is ridiculously infatuated with his endearingly awkward ways. in other news, i've given up on using 'y/n,' it killed me every time i had to type it so i just chose a random name, feel free to make a mental edit to 'y/n' if you're more comf with that.

It's rush hour when she first sees him. She almost doesn't — it's just her and her coworker today and her eyes are only moving from the cash register's buttons to each cup as she hastily scrawls names and orders onto the plastic.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" She asks half-distractedly as she finishes writing Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino before sliding it over to her coworker with an apologetic look. Frappes are the worse to make, and it doesn't help that the line is nearly to the door now. She almost doesn't look up but the silence to her question is a little too long, so Winnie darts a quick look up, hoping to see no one standing there.

What she's not expecting to see is a man with wide brown eyes and equally brown hair squinting at the menu above her head. Winnie thinks he's the most good-looking man she's ever seen. As she tries to recap the Sharpie, she stabs her own hand. "Shit," she mutters automatically.

"Sorry?" The ridiculously good-looking man asks politely, his gaze flickering from the menu to her. His eyes are the same color as caramelized sugar and Winnie thinks he looks just as sweet as she watches him pull at the frayed collar of his knitted jumper.

"Nothing, nothing," Winnie says with a dismissive hand as she puts on her best customer-service-smile. "What can I get you today?"

His brows furrow as he turns his gaze back to the menu. "What—" he begins, drawing out the word slowly. Winnie takes his hesitation to steal another appreciative glance at him — he's tall, his frame somewhere between lean and lanky, though it's hidden by a jumper that's clearly been knitted to be a few sizes too large for extra comfort. "—would you recommend?"

"Well, what do you normally like?" Winnie asks, casting a glance behind him. As much as she'd love to talk to this cute stranger for the rest of her shift, the line has started to wrap around.

The man rakes a hand through his hair, tousling already-tousled waves of brown. He looks sheepish and a little panicked. "I've never really had coffee before," he admits. A little strange, but Winnie's not one to judge, especially when he's looking at her with deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

"How about I get you my favorite drink then?" She suggests, already reaching for the sharpie and another cup. It's a trick she's learned from working in the coffee shop for the past few months — customers are less likely to be unhappy with their surprise drinks if they think it's your favorite drink.

The man nods, his shoulders sagging with apparent relief. Matcha latte, she scribbles before looking up at him again. "Can I get a name?"

"My name?" He repeats, looking dumbfounded as if she had just asked for his number.

She lifts the cup and shakes it a little to draw his attention to it. "For your order."

"Remus," he says, straightening. He clears his throat. "Remus Lupin."

"Got it," she says as she writes it down. Remus Lupin. She's never had a customer give her a full name before, but Winnie doesn't have time to ponder it as she slides the cup to her coworker. "That'll be $4.50."

He fishes out a $10 and when she tries to hand back the change, he shakes his head with a soft, polite smile.

"Come again," she calls after him, pleased, before turning back to the monstrous line that had managed to form behind him. "I can help the next customer."

— — — — —

The next time she sees him, it's just her behind the counter. Since the rush died down an hour earlier, she's been leaning over the counter squinting at an eight count that she can't quite get right. When the door jingles, Winnie puts down her pencil and moves back behind the register.

"Hi! What can I get for you today?" She asks before she properly looks up. It's the fluffy-haired man from last week. Today he's wearing a scarlet and gold jumper bunched at his wrists and slacks the same brown as his eyes and hair. She doesn't recognize the lion emblem embroidered on his chest — it doesn't match any of the mascots of the nearby universities. When he unwraps his scarf, she can see that his cheeks are flushed red from the cold. It's a good look on him. "Cold outside?"

"Getting there," he says with a soft sigh.

"I can't wait," she says conversationally. "I love autumn."

"Hm," he says, ending the conversation rather abruptly.

Winnie tries not to grimace at the awkward silence as she pulls out her sharpie from the pocket of her apron. "So, what can I get for you today?" When he hesitates for a moment too long, his gaze darting back up to the menu behind her, Winnie tries for conversation again. "How was the matcha latte last time?"

Remus hesitates, his gaze darting to her. "It was very green."

The response is so unexpected that Winnie barely bites back a bark of a laugh before she catches herself. She wasn't a gifted conversationalist, but Remus was making her seem like a total extrovert. "It was," she agrees, smiling now. Up close, she can see shadows below his big eyes. Maybe he needed an espresso? Or less coffee and more sleep. "I'm guessing it wasn't to your taste? I'll let you order today—"

Remus seems to catch himself because he straightens hurriedly. "No, I'll have a matcha latte," he says firmly, already fishing out five dollar bill.

Winnie punches the numbers into the cash register and nods him along, but he hesitates, looking at her expectantly. "Don't you need my name?"

"Not unless it's changed from Remus Lupin," Winnie chirps cheerfully, biting back a smile as he blinks at her rapidly. "Has it?"

"No," he says, clearing his throat. "It's still Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up, Remus Lupin," Winnie says with a mini salute as she turns to start making the drink.

After he leaves, she notices a strange looking coin in the tip jar that hadn't been there before. When she squints at it, she can make out the carved word, Sickle. With raised brows, Winnie slips the strange coin into the pocket of her jeans.

— — — — —

The next time she sees Remus Lupin, he's wearing a long coat over a sweater vest. Winnie thinks he looks like a cute little professor.

"Hi, how's it going—" she's beginning to say just as Remus says choppily, "It's cold outside. Now."

They both blink at each other for a moment before Winnie grins a little, inwardly pleased that he remembered their last conversation. "Yeah?" She turns to squint critically out the window. "On a day like this, I'd kill to be in bed with a warm cup of tea."

Remus nods thoughtfully before pausing. "Not matcha?"

"Matcha strikes me more as a spring-summer drink," she muses.

He nods again, eyes darting to the menu above her head. Winnie is used to this now, so she waits patiently for his order. To her surprise, he looks at her again tentatively, his brown eyes startling bright. It feels as though she's been sucker punched.

"I'm not much of an autumn or winter person," he says. It takes her a moment to realize that he was still referencing their previous conversation. "The cold gets to my joints," he adds, looking a little sheepish.

"Ah," she says dumbly, nodding, before blurting, "Well, did you know that matcha has antioxidant and anti-inflammatory effects?"

Remus blinks at her as though she's clubbed him over the head. "Anti-ox-i-dant," he repeats slowly, as if saying the word for the first time.

Winnie inwardly grimaces. Why was she still talking about matcha? She had been so caught off guard that he was continuing the conversation and that his eyes were stupidly pretty that she had fumbled a little. "Er, so what can I get for you?"

"A cup of matcha then," Remus says, fishing a five dollar bill from his pockets. "For it's anti-ox-i-dant effects."

Winnie's cheeks burn a little as she waves him off. "It's on the house today," she says.

Remus looks surprised as he hesitates. "No, I can pay—"

"No, no, it's on the house," Winnie says firmly, thinking inwardly, For my piss poor attempt at conversation. Before he can insist, she takes her Sharpie and writes Matcha latte, even though it's only her behind the counter today. "Name?" She asks, half-teasing, half-hoping to distract him from trying to pay.

He blinks, looking startled. "Remus Lupin," he answers automatically, straightening.

"Just making sure it hasn't changed," she hums, smiling a little as she gets started on the latte.

To her surprise, Remus laughs, the sound low and rich and warm. "It hasn't yet," he says, glancing down at her name tag for a moment before looking back up at her, his brown eyes wide and bright as he drops the ten dollar bill into the tip jar. "Thank you, Winnie."

Winnie is too stunned by his laugh to complain.

— — — — —

Remus starts to come by more frequently. She can never quite figure out his schedule — it's sporadic, sometimes during rush hour where they can only exchange a few words, but mostly when the coffee shop is empty. She's grown so accustomed — and perhaps, has quickly begun to look forward — to seeing him that she can't help but look up hopefully when someone comes in.

Their conversations at the counter gradually grow less halting. She makes a point to always ask his name and Remus dutifully plays along each time, his lips twitching each time he gives her his name.

"You're always working on music," he observes one day. He must have come in without her realizing because when she looks up, she finds Remus nodding down at her paper.

"I am," she agrees mournfully. "I study music at the local university," she tells him, straightening her apron.

"That suits you," he says with the soft smile that she's grown terribly fond of.

Pleasure warms her chest as she tries not to beam at him. Though their conversations are mostly quiet and simple, it feels as though she's always trying not to smile a full-teeth smile at him.

She learns that he's only recently graduated from some sort of private boarding school. From his vague references, it sounded like one of those preparatory schools for gifted students. It doesn't strike her as much of a surprise — from his responses, Winnie can get a sense for how knowledgeable and bright he is, though to be fair, he always seems to bring a new book in when he visits. It might also explain how awkward and closed off Remus is, Winnie decides — she thinks public schools build thick skin. Winnie doesn't really mind the occasionally halting conversations though — Remus, for his credit, is a wonderful listener and always asks her questions when she talks about her band. And something about the attentive way Remus looks at her makes her feel comfortable about talking. She's almost worried that she talks too much — it's a welcome reprieve from the quiet slowness or the repetitive "Hi, how are you?'s" of the coffee shop.

"Sorry," she says one day when she brings him his drink. "I realize that I talk your ear off whenever you're here and I'm sure you've got things to do, books to read."

Remus shakes his head, sending his fluffy brown hair falling against his brow. It's gotten longer since the first time she's met him, the ends beginning to curl down the nape of his neck and around his ears. It's a good look on him, though admittedly, Winnie finds herself thinking that whenever he comes in.

"It's no problem," Remus says easily. Winnie nods, about to return to the counter when he clears his throat. "I... enjoy your company," he says with an impossibly tiny smile. At the sight of it, Winnie wants to fall to the floor, but she hasn't mopped it yet, so she opts to stand perfectly still instead. "If you ever feel inclined to take a break to chat, the chair is always open."

Some days when the shop isn't too busy, she takes him on his offer to sit and chat. Some days their conversations are long and winding, about nothing in particular, and on some days — mostly the days where he looks strangely exhausted — they both sit in a comfortable silence with Remus reading his books and Winnie laboring over her music.

One day when she's put all her focus on composing, Winnie nearly jumps out of her skin when Remus speaks up. "New song?"

Winnie looks up from her sheets at his question. A little thrill runs through her body when she sees that his book has been discarded to the side as he looks at her curiously. "Old song," she sighs. "I've been trying to finish these lyrics," she says, giving a frustrated glare to the paper. "I wanted to finish it in time for my band's next show, but I can't seem to get anywhere good with it."

Remus hums thoughtfully. "What's it about?"

"It's a love song," Winnie says before thinking. She darts a quick look at Remus as her ears burn, but fortunately, he's looking down at her lyrics thoughtfully. To be fair, she reasons with herself, she had started writing it before meeting Remus. "I've been stuck for ages now though."

"Hmm," Remus hums, leaning back in his chair to stretch his lithe limbs before letting his arms settle on his head. It's an effortlessly attractive motion — Winnie tries not to stare. "I'm sure you've tried already, but maybe you can draw inspiration from experience?"

Winnie clears her throat. "Oh, er, well, I actually don't really have..." She falters, feeling her cheeks burn. She's undeniably red now. "—experience in that realm," she finishes lamely.

"Ah," Remus makes a sound, his eyes widening a fraction as he re-rights himself to sit up straight in his chair. "Sorry, I just figured that you... That there'd be..." He stops himself, looking sheepish.

"That I what?" She presses, arching her brow to deflect from her reddening face.

"I just thought that you'd have experience in relationships," Remus coughs, his cheeks pink now. It's cute enough that it nearly distracts her from the mortifying conversation they're having.

"Ah, no," she says, swallowing. Then she adds hurriedly, darting a glance at him, "It's not that I don't want to date. It's just the type of guy I've attracted in the past has always been—" Winnie cuts off her rambling abruptly as Remus leans forward, brown eyes trained on hers.

"Has been what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she mumbles, scrubbing a hand over her face, grimacing. "You know, tattoos, eats cigs for breakfast. Maybe my nose ring gives the wrong impression," she lets out an embarrassed laugh, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole to stop her nonsensical babbling.

"I see," Remus says slowly in a tone that very much sounded like he didn't.

"What about you?" She blurts. Remus looks startled, so she shoulders onwards. It feels as though she has nothing left to lose, anyways. "I'm sure you were popular in school."

"Ah," he says, making a noise at the back of his throat. He rubs the nape of his neck, looking embarrassed as he looks down as his discarded book. She bets he wished he never stopped reading. "Not really," he says. "I was always busy with school and, er, other things, so I never..." He trails off, making a vague motion with his hands. "Yeah," he finishes lamely.

"That's a surprise," Winnie says, inwardly relieved that he wasn't dating anyone. "I'm sure you had plenty of admirers."

Remus smiles at her wryly, a flash of embarrassment flickering across his face. "My mates had plenty of admirers," he says, though not enviously. Winnie waits patiently for him to continue — one thing she's gathered from Remus was that he often deflected talking about himself through talking about his friends. Sirius, Peter, James, she had learned were their names. "Sirius, in fact, was plenty popular." He darts a strange look to her, his brows knitted together and contemplative. "You'd get along well with him, I reckon."

— — — — —

Another day, during rush hour. She can see him waiting in the long line stealing glances at her that sends her heart stuttering. When their gaze meets, she offers him an apologetic smile. Remus just returns her smile and shakes his head, sending his hair down across his brow.

When he finally reaches the counter, he doesn't leave her any time to say hello. "I have a mate," Remus starts, pausing long enough for her to raise a brow.

"A mate," she drawls, trying to decode the peculiar expression on his face. He's visibly hesitating, his brow furrowing and relaxing as if he's overcoming some inner dilemma. Winnie waits patiently.

"A mate," he says again, rubbing the base of his neck. "That wants to learn how to play the guitar."

"I see," Winnie says slowly, patiently.

"It's Sirius — my friend that I told you about before," he adds, not quite looking at her but not quite looking away either. "Obviously, you can say no, but I thought that since you played the guitar, that maybe you'd...?"

Winnie thinks about it for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. She felt a twinge of guilt briefly for having an ulterior motive, before reasoning with herself that she was about to give a free guitar lesson. "I can give him an intro lesson," she says. "But only because he's your good friend."

Remus relaxes, his face breaking into a smile that only makes her feel better about her choice. Lord, she thinks, her eyes tracking his dimple. She thinks if he smiled like that at her, she'd do anything. "Brilliant," he beams.

A customer behind him clears her throat meaningfully, jolting Winnie out of the conversation. She had entirely forgotten she was working.

"So, a matcha latte?" She asks loudly. When she looks back at him, she's expecting him to sport his normal embarrassed half-smile, but she's caught off guard to see him grinning at her roguishly. Remus never fails to surprise her.

Remus nods, clearly trying not to laugh as he fishes out a bill. Winnie goes through the motions of punching in the numbers and preparing the cup. "We can do it at my flat, I have an extra guitar," she tells him as she finishes his order.

Remus smiles and nods, turning to leave when a thought occurs to her. "Oh, and Remus?" She calls after him.

He whirls around, brows arched and eyes wide and attentive. "Hmm?"

"You'll be there right?"

"Me?" Remus blurts, looking startled.

Winnie bites back a sigh. As she expected. Doubling down, she nods. "I'm not going to let a random man into my flat," she tells him, brows arching. She tries to ignore the customer behind him huffing impatiently.

Remus hesitates. "Sirius isn't a random man." Despite herself, Winnie likes this stubborn side of him.

"I've never met him," she sniffs, jutting her chin out mulishly.

"So you'll feel better if there's two random men in your house?" He counters archly.

But Winnie had been expecting this. She gives him a smile. Remus blinks, looking startled as any semblance of resistance dissipates. "You're not just a random man," she says meaningfully.

Remus blinks again. Then he turns, clearing his throat as he begins wrapping his scarf around his neck. Winnie thinks she can see a pink flush crawl up his neck before he covers it with a scarf, but she might just be seeing what she wants to see. "I'll be there," Remus says gruffly with a stiff nod.

Winnie mimics his stiff nod and bites back a smile.

"Thank you for waiting," she says to the next customer with her best customer-service-smile.

Before Remus returns for his drink, Winnie makes a split-second decision to write her number on a napkin. The idea has her stomach doing a dangerous, giddy flip in her stomach, but she does it anyways and slips it under his drink waiting on the counter.

— — — — —

The next three weeks is grueling for two reasons. The first is that she doesn't see Remus once, despite taking extra shifts. The second is because she waits for a phone call that never comes.

She's never given her number to anyone before so she doesn't quite know what the socially acceptable amount of time is before getting a call, but after the first five days of radio silence and his absence in the coffee shop, she's sure that she's made a terrible mistake.

She feels embarrassed and a little foolish, wishing she hadn't gotten swept up in her hopes and his stupid brown eyes. She had been silly — she was just an overly-chatty local barista and he was just a nice customer with a nice smile and nice eyes and nice everything who put up with her rambling. It's a little mortifying to think back on, so Winnie tries not to think about it, though every time the door's bell jingles, she's caught in a vicious cycle of hope, disappointment, and embarrassment.

She reckons that if he did ever come back, she'd either just pretend as though she never gave him her number or she'd hide in the storage room. The latter option sounded the most appealing the longer she went without seeing him.

She's closing up the shop one night when the door bursts open, the bells jingling loudly. Startled, Winnie nearly drops the bucket she had just finished mopping with. Her heart drops to her stomach.

"Hi," Remus says, pink-cheeked and breathless. "Are you closed?"

Winnie stares at him wide-eyed. She has a brief irrational flash of self-consciousness as she holds a mop and bucket in her hands, her hair and makeup unruly after a long shift. "I—" Winnie bites the inside of her cheek, looking at the clock. She was just a local barista, and he was just a customer, she reminded herself, swallowing back the growing burn of embarrassment in her belly.

As if sensing her hesitation, Remus straightens, clearing his throat. "I mean, you don't have to make a drink or anything actually, I just—"

"I can make a quick drink before I close up," Winnie says hurriedly, not quite able to look him in the eyes as she moves behind the counter. Memories of her giving him her number is seared in memory and it takes all her willpower not to crumble in mortification in front of him.

"No, it's alright," Remus says hurriedly, following her. "I'll help you close up."

"No, go sit over there," Winnie says, her voice a little too clipped. Remus hesitates, floundering before stubbornly following her again. Too close. She whirls around on him, exasperated and embarrassed. Pride wounded. "Remus, I'll make your drink just—"

"Winnie," he cuts in softly, his eyes tracking over her face carefully, quick to pick up her emotions. Winnie diverts her eyes mulishly. "I didn't actually come for a drink today," he says in a patient tone that only amplifies her growing embarrassment that she hides under irritation.

"Then I'm guessing you came to mess with a small local business," she grumps unfairly to herself, stomping behind the counter to drop the mop and bucket into the storage closet. Remus follows her doggedly.

"No, that's not why either," he says, huffing out a good natured laugh. Winnie ignores how smooth and honeyed it sounds.

"Then why'd you come so late? Seeing as how you haven't come in the past three—" Winnie cuts herself off, mortified, before stalking past him to busy herself with wiping down the counter.

"That's exactly why I came," Remus says from behind her. "I haven't seen you in three weeks and I wanted to see how you were doing."

Winnie swallows, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. And then she continues to scrub the counter aggressively, refusing to turn around and be swayed by him, though she could feel her grievances begin to dissipate. "Well, you could have called," she grumbles pointedly.

"I, er, don't have a telephone."

"You don't have a telephone," Winnie repeats automatically, before turning to balk at him. He looks embarrassed, his fingers fidgeting compulsively with the sleeves of his lumpy cardigan. In disbelief, she squints at him suspiciously. "Listen, Remus, I really won't be offended if you weren't interested, so there's no need to make up an excuse—"

"It's not an excuse," Remus interjects, straightened. He looks visibly affronted, his lips twisting into a slight frown. "I don't have a telephone."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly, her voice small. And then she frowns, still skeptical. "How do you get into contact with your friends? Carrier pigeon?"

Remus lets out a huff of a laugh, mirth flickering in his brown eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

For some reason, she believes him, so she drops it. It's probably the warm fondness in his eyes that neutralizes her. "I see," she says finally, unsure about whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

Remus seems to notice because he clears his throat. "I would have called you, really," he says. He's looking at her with those brown eyes again, big and earnest, and Winnie can't help but stare.

Flustered with the way he was looking at her, she turns to grab a tray of milk cartons. "I thought you were ghosting me," she grumbles. "I mean, I give you my number, you don't call and stop showing up. What's a girl supposed to think?"

Remus follows her, even closer now, close enough that she can smell his cologne — he smells good, she notes distractedly — and gently takes the tray of milk cartons from her hand, his big hands enclosing over hers briefly. Winnie nearly drops the whole tray. "You're not getting paid for that," she says, flustered and embarrassed and—

—and Remus is smiling at her with an impossibly patient and endeared smile, the sort that softens his eyes into little half-moons. Lord, Winnie thinks, her mind going unhelpfully blank as any memory of her mortification fades quickly.

"I would have called you," he says again, turning to look at her properly. He clears his throat, his eyes snagging on to hers intently. "I wanted to call you." He's holding the tray of cartons and she's trapped in the corner and the whole thing feels a little ridiculous, especially with the way her heart is stuttering under his gaze. He steps closer, his shoulders curving over slightly as he tries to match her height to appear less imposing. "I'm sorry for not giving you a heads up — I got swept away for work, but I'll let you know next time that happens."

"There's no need," she mumbles, flushing now. God, he probably didn't even know what he was doing. "It's not like we're..." The words die on her lips. She doesn't really know what she wants to say. Were they friends? She sure hoped so, but she could see how she was just a local barista and he was just a regular.

Remus ducks his head a little so that they're looking at each other properly again. They're close enough that Winnie can see his long lashes fluttering across his cheeks. She can see the splay of freckles across his tan skin. The thin shadow of a scar across the bridge of his nose. It's like she can't escape as her mind goes unhelpfully blank again. His eyes are warm and apologetic and earnest and Winnie feels like she's being seen right through. "How can I make it up to you?" He asks, looking entirely sincere.

Winnie's mouth — her heart — moves before her mind does. "My show," she blurts.

His brows furrow ever so slightly. "Your show?" He repeats, understandably not following because she was barely coherent.

"Yes," she says, straightening and doubling down. "I'm having a small show. With my band. This weekend. You should come." God, Winnie thinks, grimacing at how choppy her words were. Remus is looking at her with those distractingly pretty eyes again, so she steels herself, taking a steadying breath. "I mean, I'd love it if you came."

Remus nods, his lips twitching as if she hadn't just given an awful word-by-word monologue. "I'd love to."

— — — — —

The venue isn't terribly large, but even on stage staring into a dark crowd of faces, Winnie can spot Remus immediately. That's how she knew she was in trouble. Well, maybe she had already known she was in trouble the first time she heard Remus laugh properly.

She's had shows before, but this one feels different. It feels as though it's only her and Remus. So as Winnie plays her guitar and sings her songs, she gives in to the enamored thrill blossoming in her chest and pours it into her music. She hopes he can hear it.

The show passes by in a euphoric blur. All Winnie can really remember is Remus beaming at her from the crowd — and her beaming back — but she thinks it went well. Backstage, her bandmates are energetic and grinning widely, clasping each other on the back. "One of our best," their drummer proclaims, cheering.

Winnie tries to smile and listen, but the excitement of the show has started to turn into a bundle of growing nerves as she waits backstage with her bandmates.

"Waiting for someone today?" Doreen, their bassist, asks astutely as she starts moving some of their equipment.

"No," Winnie blurts unconvincingly, only gathering delighted hoots from the others.

"I knew this one felt different for a reason—" Doreen shouts gleefully, before falling silently abruptly, her eyes falling on someone behind Winnie. It takes all of her willpower to look casual and not whirl around. "Oh. He looks like he should be in a band," Doreen's voice drops into a hushed whisper. "Can we please add him? He can... play the triangle or something. He can be the face of our band. Our new mascot—"

At this, Winnie frowns and turns around. She wouldn't exactly say that Remus, with his soft jumpers and fluffy hair, looked like he'd be the face of a rock band—

"Hi," A voice, smooth and pitched low, says. "Winnie, right?"

Winnie stares at this stranger uncomprehendingly. He's strikingly handsome, his eyes the color of mercury and his hair the color of ink. He's all sharp angles and perfectly unruly curls and devilish smile, the type that Winnie has seen before. It comes with the crowd a rock band attracts, though this man in particular looks as though he was carved out of marble with his aquiline nose and high cheekbones.

Winnie blinks at him. "Yeah," she says uncertainly, scratching her cheek. "Er, do we know each other?"

"Winnie, this is Sirius," a familiar voice cuts in from behind the dark-haired man. Winnie straightens, her eyes snagging immediately on him as he steps out from behind Sirius.

Unlike Sirius's leather jacket and tattoos, Remus looks so painfully out of place in his sweater vest and slacks. She's impossibly endeared at the sight — in fact, all she can really do is stare dumbly at him. He's holding a little bouquet of yellow flowers. Her heart gives a dangerous squeeze.

Doreen clears her throat, jolting her out of her fixation. Winnie tears her eyes away from him to give his friend a polite smile as she shakes his hand. "Hi there." Distractedly, she turns back to look at Remus. "I didn't know you were going to bring a friend—"

"We love friends," Doreen says brightly. Winnie bites back a laugh at Doreen's lovesick scheming as her gaze snags on to Remus again. "Friends are always welcome here."

"I've heard loads about you," Sirius says smoothly, flashing her a charming smile. She swears she can hear Doreen faint next to her. "Remus, in fact, doesn't ever stop—"

Winnie's stomach does an Olympic-gymnastic-level flip as she watches Remus indiscreetly dig his elbow into Sirius's ribs. Sirius seems unbothered, but he stops and gives Winnie a smarmy grin.

"How was the show?" She asks, her gaze darting to Remus. It's like she can't stop looking at him.

"Brilliant," he blurts, beaming. "Absolutely brilliant. You were amazing," he says, eyes bright. "I mean, I knew you loved music, but seeing you in your element..." He stops abruptly, looking embarrassed. She isn't sure if it's the lighting, but his cheeks look pink. Or it's a reflection of how red her face has turned. Pleasure blooms in her chest so violently she feels a little dizzy.

"I'm glad you liked it," she manages, uncharacteristically bashful. She can feel her bandmates staring at her, slack-faced, and forces herself to ignore it. "I wasn't sure if it would be your type of music, but..."

"No, it was," Remus says hurriedly, turning to look at Sirius. "Right?"

Sirius nods, looking between the two of them with great interest. "Remus was practically on his knees—" Another jab into his ribs.

Winnie bites back a laugh, flushed and pleased, before nodding down at the bouquet in his hands. "Are those for me?" She asks, half-bluntly, half-hopefully.

Remus looks down at his hands as if he only just then remembered what he was holding. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he says. Winnie thinks she's dreaming for a moment, until Remus thrusts it into Sirius's hands. "They're from Sirius."

She blinks. Sirius blinks, an equally baffled expression on his face though he covers it up quickly. "Oh," the dark-haired man says slowly, his silver gaze flickering to his friend. "I guess—"

"—as a thank you for agreeing to the lesson," Remus cuts in hurriedly as Sirius hands it to her uncertainly.

Winnie takes the bouquet, bewildered now, but she plasters a polite smile on her face. "Er, it's no problem at all," she says, unsure about whether to say that to Sirius or Remus.

Sirius takes it in a stride though. "I would kill to play the guitar like you," he says, voice dripping with charisma. "How'd you—"

"You can try my bass, if you'd like," Doreen interrupts from behind her. Winnie's jaw goes a little slack — Doreen's the most protective with her bass — but her bandmate shoots her a meaningful look.

"Brilliant," Sirius says brightly. Winnie turns to watch Doreen in disbelief as they disappear into the backroom.

"Now he's not a random man, right?" Remus murmurs to her, his breath coasting against the shell of her ear. She nearly jumps out of her skin at the proximity.

"I suppose not," she says, trying to keep her cool but Remus is looking at her with bright eyes. It doesn't help when his lips quirk triumphantly, smugly. "But—" she interjects before it can widen any further, "—if it turns out that your friend is horrendous at the guitar, I think it's only fair if you also have to suffer through it."

Remus's brows shoot up. "And if he's good at it?"

"Then you get to witness my masterful teaching."

He huffs out a laugh, a little disbelieving, a little amused. "Fine," Remus sighs, but he's clearly trying not to smile. She finds herself wishing that he did. "I'll be there."

— — — — —

Sirius, as it turns out, is awful at the guitar. Winnie tries to chalk it up to it being his first time trying it out, but even then, he seemed... challenged.

She had been teaching him for an hour now — her sitting on one of the kitchen stools she had pulled into her flat's shoebox of a living room-bedroom situation, Sirius sitting on the couch with her old guitar precariously balanced on his knees. Remus tried to excuse himself once he realized his friend was musically challenged. Feeling merciful — and also realizing that Remus's presence was making her too nervous to focus on teaching Sirius — Winnie nodded him towards the kitchen. She had spent all morning meticulously cleaning her flat — even she knew she was being a little ridiculous and overly nervous when she started scrubbing at the oven — in preparation for the session. Even then, the knowledge that Remus was in her flat filled her with a different type of nerves.

"Let's take a break," Winnie huffs finally, setting her guitar down.

Sirius rises to his feet and stretches, looking relieved. "I'll get some water for us?" He offers, already making himself at home. Winnie nods, waving him off as she tries to fight back the incoming migraine from stressing over Sirius snapping her strings. At the reminder of his hand-eye coordination and all the glass she has in her cupboards, she springs to her feet quickly.

"Maybe I should just charm the guitar," Sirius is murmuring when she walks in to the kitchen.

"No amount of charisma will charm the guitar," Winnie says, amused. The boys straighten, looking strangely guilty.

"But Sirius is particularly charming," Remus supplies abruptly, darting a quick look to Sirius, who just looks startled by his friend's sudden proclamation.

"I see," Winnie says slowly, exchanging a baffled glance with Sirius.

"Right, well, I ought to practice some more then," Sirius says, giving a salute as he leaves the kitchen.

"Is he that bad?" Remus asks once Sirius leaves.

"It's like he's never used his hands before a day in his life to do anything," Winnie whispers to Remus with a solemn nod.

Remus makes a choking sound as though he's trying not to laugh. Winnie wishes he did. "You don't know the half of it," he huffs, lips curling as if he's sharing a secret.

"He's not really not very good with his fingers," Winnie admits honestly, lifting her cup to her lips.

"That's not his reputation among the girls," Remus blurts.

Winnie chokes on her water and starts coughing violently. Alarmed, Remus reaches out and pats her on the back. "What?" She rasps around a sore throat as she turns to give Remus an incredulous look.

His expression is too carefully neutral as he shrugs at her. "Sirius has always been Hogwart's most sought after bachelor," he recites, as if she's supposed to know what this meant.

"What's going on, Remus?" Winnie questions, her brows shooting up higher. "You've been acting strange recently. It's like you're trying to sell me this poor boy or..." She falters, turning to look at Remus. To his credit, he looks sheepish as he looks away to inspect her cabinets. "Remus," she begins, her voice dangerously low. "Please tell me you're not trying to set me up with your friend."

Remus goes pink in the face and it's all she needs to confirm her suspicions. Inwardly, her heart drops a little, but outwardly, she just stares at him, waiting for a proper response. As if realizing there wasn't a way of getting out of this, the brown-haired boy sighs a little, raking a hand through his hair. "I just thought you two would get along well together," he says, looking at her with earnest eyes.

It hurts. Much more than she cares to admit. Trying to swallow back the disappointment, Winnie turns so that he can't see it on her face. So that's what this has been about. "For how long?" She asks, her throat dry. She can feel a headache coming on.

"How long what?" Remus asks. He sounds confused.

"How long have you been thinking about setting us up? Did he even want to learn the guitar?" Winnie thinks back to Remus's reluctance on coming to her flat. She thinks back to him bringing Sirius along to the concert. She thinks about how much she likes Remus and how she thought he felt the same way. So it had all been one sided. Humiliation burns in her stomach as she stares down at her hands.

"No, he did, he did want to learn how to play the guitar," he says quickly. "Or, er, he was interested in learning after I told him about you. Sirius is a great guy, really!" Remus, all too late, seems to sense something amiss when she doesn't respond. He straightens, an expression of growing alarm on his face. "Are you... upset?"

"No," Winnie says. She wasn't, for once. In fact, she just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her hole. "I'm just..." She trails off, pinching the bridge of her nose before exhaling quietly.

"Sirius is a great guy, I promise," Remus says again, slowly as if not to spook a wild animal. But Winnie has already been spooked.

"Yeah, he is," she says, her voice pitched just slightly too high and just slightly too clipped as she turns to flee the kitchen. "But not very great at the guitar, so I'd better go check up on him. I suspect he'd find a way to set fire to my flat with just a guitar."

"I'm an idiot," she mutters to herself, closing her eyes for a moment.

A cheerful voice chirps up from the couch. "So, when can I join your band?"

— — — — —

Winnie doesn't go to work for the rest of the week. She asks her coworkers to cover her shift with a fake cough and a groan of a headache. The headache part isn't really a lie — ever since her conversation with Remus in her kitchen, she's felt a dull ache drumming behind her eyes. So she's holed herself in her apartment — specifically her bed, under lots of blankets — sulking and moping by herself.

By the fifth day, Winnie realizes bitterly that she can't keep this up. She has rent to pay. On the day that she's decided to come back into the coffee shop, her phone rings. "Winnie, are you coming in today?" her coworker asks.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better," Winnie lies as she stuffs her apron into her bag.

"Great," her coworker says before pausing. "There's been a bloke coming by asking for you."

Winnie can feel the headache come back full force. "A bloke," she repeats, knowing full well they both knew who she was talking about.

"Tall, brown hair. I told him you've been out sick, but he seems worried, so you ought to give him a ring."

To her chagrin, Remus is there the first day she comes back.

"Hi, welcome," she says, her voice tight. Winnie plasters a too-bright smile on her face to compensate. "What can I get for you today?"

Remus blinks. "A matcha latte. How have—"

"Coming right up," she says, punching in the order with rapid speed. Still smiling brightly. "That'll be $4.50—"

Remus hands her a five before she can finish.

"Here's your change, sir—" Winnie tacks it on at the end of the sentence before she can help it. Remus's face crumples in confusion for a moment, his brow furrowing together as he watches her for a moment longer. It feels as though his eyes are burning through her.

"You can keep the change," he says softly, still looking at her.

Winnie forces out a thank you. She feels as though her smile is starting to look like a grimace. Her cheeks are hurting. He's still looking at her with those stupidly pretty brown eyes. She knows he's waiting. She forces herself to look back down at the register before straightening. "Next in line, please."

— — — — —

To her relief, she's not on cash register duty the next time he comes. Winnie ducks her head with forced concentration as she makes an order. She's definitely too concentrated on making the drink that she doesn't notice the way his face brightens again when he sees her as he nears the counter. She's definitely too concentrated to hear her coworker take his order of a matcha latte. She's definitely too concentrated to feel his eyes on her as she busies herself behind the counter. She definitely wasn't paying attention.

This game of concentration can only go on for so long, Winnie realizes belatedly after she finishes making his drink. She stares down at his name on the cup glumly for a moment before putting her best customer-service smile back on. "For Remus," she calls out without quite looking up. Though she knows that he's sitting patiently at his normal table.

When he comes, Winnie puts a straw on the lid, trying not to look as tense as she feels.

"Hi," he says, looking at her fully in the face.

"Hi," she says back, not quite looking at him, but also not quite looking away. This time, there's no line and nowhere to escape to.

Remus fiddles with the straw wrapper slowly. "How..." He falters, his eyes imploring as he tries to catch her gaze. His brows are furrowed slightly. "...have you been? They said you've been ill?"

"Ah yeah," Winnie says weakly, busying herself with tidying up the straws and napkins by the register. "Caught a cold."

"It's not Dragon Pox, is it?" He says, his brows furrowing even further, a crease of concern between them.

Winnie blinks at him. "Dragon Pox?"

Remus blinks back at her. "Oh, maybe not then," he murmurs hurriedly before clearing his throat. "Er, if you're still feeling ill, I have this—" He reaches into the pocket of his long coat and pulls out a small vial. Winnie stares at it blankly. "—that helps with cold symptoms."

She squints at it, dubiously. "Is that medicine?"

Remus fiddles with the little glass vial. "Something of the sort."

"You just carry that around... in your pocket?"

"Well no," Remus says, looking embarrassed now. He clears his throat as his eyes dart down to the vial. "I wanted to give it to you, but I thought that dropping it off at your flat might be too much."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly. Her stomach does a traitorous flip and she forces herself to also look down at the vial as her last defenses against him begin to crumble. She should've known this was going to happen. "That's sweet of you."

"It's nothing," he mumbles, setting the vial on the table. "Er, are you busy today?"

Winnie swallows. "Yeah, I've been out, so I ought to pull my weight around here," she says, though she thinks the both of them knows that it's a lie. The coffee shop barely had anyone else in it. But Winnie doesn't look up at him to see his face fall — she knows that if he just flashes her his doe eyes, she'll be back at square one. She forces a smile on her face.

Remus nods. His disappointment is clear on his face as he stuffs his hand back into the pocket of his coat. Winnie tried not to think about it. "Right, well, I'll be over there if you need a break."

— — — — —

Her landline rings again for the third time in the past fives minutes as she tries to get the chord progression correct. Though she's been trying, she's hit an even bigger music-block recently. Winnie squints at the number — it's the same one that's been trying to dial her. With a frustrated sigh, she sets her guitar to the side and picks up the receiver from the landline with a little too much vigor. "Hello?" She asks, the irritation in her voice cutting through clearly.

"Winnie?"

She pauses, taken aback. "This is she," she says after a moment. Who would be calling her nearly at midnight?

"Sorry, were you sleeping? I just got a telephone and I wanted to call, but I didn't realize it was this late—" The person on the other end sounds a little out of breath.

"Sorry, who is this?" She asks, bewildered now.

A pause. "It's Remus."

Winnie nearly drops the phone. "Remus?" She repeats.

"Yeah," he says uncertainly. "Remus Lupin," he adds, as if that'll help.

"Of course I know who you are," she says, a little disbelieving.

"You didn't sound like you did a few seconds ago," he says good-naturedly.

"Well, I wasn't expecting a call from someone without a phone."

He huffs out a laugh, soft and quiet. Hearing it close to her ear through the receiver makes a warmth spread through her chest. This was dangerous. She settles back on the couch as Remus continues talking, his voice soft like he's trying not to wake up his flatmate. "Well, to be fair, I did just get it."

"I never thought I'd see the day," she murmurs despite the danger bells tolling in her head. "What made you take the technological leap?"

Winnie can almost hear his eye roll through the receiver. "Well, I may have offended a girl at this coffee shop I frequent by not having one. Thought I should right my wrongs."

Her heart stutters dangerously in her chest. She's glad he can't see her because she can feel a pleased warmth flushing across her face as she lies down on the couch and kicks her legs over the armchair. She wants to scream from the giddiness. And then scream again for having no dignity. The thought that he had gotten a phone to call her is entirely absurd, but Winnie almost lets herself believe it. "I see," she says after she collects herself for a moment. "Sounds noble." A pause. "So you kept my napkin."

"No," Remus says automatically. "Sirius threw it away."

Winnie frowns, her brows furrowing. "Then how'd you get my number?"

"I memorized it."

She nearly falls to the floor at that, the phone rubbing against the couch as she sits up swiftly.

"Hello?" Remus's distant voice calls uncertainly through the speaker. "Winnie?"

"Hi!" Winnie chirps into the phone quickly, too brightly. She's beyond glad Remus can't see her face — she knows she's bright red now. And she's trying hard not to grin ear to ear. "Sorry about that, poor connection," she fibs.

Remus pauses. She can almost hear the frown in his voice when he speaks up again. "Is it my phone? The man at the store said it might—"

"No, no, that was on my end," she says quickly, fanning herself now. She needed to calm down. Immediately. "So, why did you call?"

A pause. She can hear him shuffling like he's sitting down. "No reason," he says. "I just wanted to hear your voice. I like this. It feels like I can hear you smiling."

To hell with calming down. She was getting no sleep that night with the way her heart was palpitating. "Holy hell," Winnie murmurs out loud, very sure now that Remus was trying to kill her. Death by heart attack. Remus Lupin, the secret ladykiller.

"What was that?" Remus asks through the phone.

"Nothing," Winnie mumbles, closing her eyes.

They both fall silent, though Winnie is sure he can hear her thumping heart through the receiver. "Er, Winnie," Remus speaks up finally. "The other reason I wanted to call was I suppose it had felt like it's been ages since we last spoke and I missed talking with you."

Winnie's heart does a dangerous quiver. And then she catches herself, all too soon, and all too suddenly.

Even after the past few weeks of trying to get over her unrequited crush, all it took was a few sweet words from him for her to cave and start at the beginning again. She couldn't keep being pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled. If she wanted to properly move on, she needed distance. Proper distance.

As if sensing something, Remus speaks up again hesitantly. "Did I do something?"

"No," Winnie says, closing her eyes. She can almost hear him breathing on the other end of the call. This would be easier to do over the phone, when she can't see his big brown eyes staring back at her earnestly — although she feels as though she's committed it to memory and can imagine it. "It's me, I— It's nothing that you've done or anything, I just need space."

"Space," Remus echoes quietly.

She tries to let out a light laugh. "Yeah, I've just got a lot on my mind recently. It's nothing you've done."

Remus is quiet for awhile before he speaks up again. "I'm here to listen if you ever want to talk through anything," he says softly. "We're friends, after all, right?"

"Friends," she murmurs to herself before straightening. "Right, of course."

More silence. "Well, it's late so I'll let you go." A pause, as if he's waiting for a response. Waiting for her to keep talking like she always did. Waiting for a reason to keep talking.

"Good night, Remus," she says instead, her fingers tightening around the receiver.

"Good night, Winnie." Winnie can hear the disappointment in his voice and lets it sink into her like a dagger. She needed to remember it to move on. Then maybe they could properly be friends. Winnie hangs up the phone first.

— — — — —

"Morning, Winnie," a bright voice chirps.

Winnie looks up, startled to see a pair of striking, but familiar gray eyes peering back at her. Sirius Black is standing in front of the counter, grinning at her widely. "Sirius," she says, surprised. "What can I get for you?"

Sirius gives the menu a cursory glance. "Huh, matcha," he says to himself thoughtfully.

"That's what Remus normally gets," she offers, trying to be helpful.

Sirius looks back at her, his eyes bright and startling astute. "You know," he says, dropping his voice to a secretive murmur. Despite herself, Winnie leans closer curiously. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

Winnie recoils, bewildered. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "Grass?" She repeats, a little affronted now. "It does not taste like grass—"

"Winnie," he says again, arching a delicate brow at her. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

She shoots him a baleful glare that goes against her customer service training. "Okay," she exhales. "So what drink would you want then?"

Sirius sighs as if she's being terribly daft. "What I'm saying is that Remus hates the taste of matcha but comes here nearly every other day to drink it. Isn't that strange?"

Winnie blinks. Once. Twice. It's as if Sirius can see the thought forming on her face because he starts to grin. "But," she says stubbornly, mulishly. Sirius's grin falters. Winnie takes secret pleasure in that. "—he drinks it every time."

Sirius's expression goes slack, but Winnie refuses to be deterred. She had already tricked herself twice into thinking that there could be more between her and Remus, she wasn't going to put herself through that again. "Merlin," Sirius exhales, scrubbing a frustrated hand over his face. "You both are so bloody stubborn—"

"No, he doesn't," a voice cuts in from behind her. Her coworker steps in with an equally exasperated expression. "Winnie, I'll be honest with you, he only ever drinks it when you make it. Whenever I hand it to him, it just sits there."

Sirius's grin returns, full force, as he nods excitedly. "I'm only telling you so that you can both stop dancing around each other. And so he can stop playing your bleeding cas— casserole... Merlin, what are they called? The little magical music squares?" Sirius flounders and turns to her coworker for help.

"Cassettes?" Her coworker supplies uncertainly.

"Cassettes!" Sirius agrees, looking relieved before he rounds on Winnie again to continue his berating. "So he can stop playing your bleeding cassettes around the flat!" And then he pauses. "Er, no offense, your music is great, but I just can't keep listening to the same album—"

"He has my cassettes?" Winnie whispers, wide-eyed.

Sirius stares at her like she's being impossibly dumb. "Yeah," he says, solemnly. "Everyday I'm a little tempted to throw them—" He seems to catch himself because he shoulders on smoothly. "Anyways, while he's been sulking around the flat, I finally found out that Moony was being ridiculous and was trying to play cupid. He can be incredibly dense for someone so smart," Sirius sighs, grimacing. "By the way, I actually was interested in learning the guitar."

Winnie stares at him dumbly, a little shell-shocked. "Oh," she says as Sirius gives her a wink.

"He's coming by later," he says as he turns towards the door.

"What?" She blurts. Remus hasn't come by or called her ever since she had asked for space, expectedly. She had been ignoring the empty feeling since then, reasoning it to be a necessary development for her to move on.

"I told him you had called on the — what's it called? — phone-tele saying you wanted to see him."

"What?" Winnie exclaims, but Sirius is already fleeing through the door. Dimly, she thinks that he didn't even order a drink.

"Go easy on him, sweetheart! He likes tea!"

— — — — —

"One matcha please."

"Name?"

A small, uncertain smile. A hesitant hint of a dimple. Her heart quaking again. "Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up."

Winnie tries to still her shaking hands as she makes him a drink. It doesn't help that she can feel her heart bursting through her chest. She takes a steadying breath and rakes a hand through her hair before taking the drink to his table. "For a Remus Lupin," she announces, setting the cup down in front of him. It's near closing time and there's no one else in the coffee shop.

Remus looks up, his brows shooting up below his waves. "What's this?"

"Earl gray," she says, matching his gaze.

His brows furrow. "But I ordered matcha."

"It's a personal recommendation from the kitchen," she says, nodding down at the tea. "I heard that matcha tastes like grass."

Remus's face pales, but he manages to cover it up with a nervous laugh that only confirms her suspicions. And her hopes. "Matcha doesn't taste like grass—" he begins, but his voice falters when he catches sight of her smiling.

"Remus," she says brightly, her smile broadening. "I finished the song."

"The song," he says blankly, looking startled as if he's trying to keep up. He blinks at her rapidly.

"The love song I've been stuck on," she reminds him impatiently.

"Oh! Oh! See, I knew you'd be able to finish," Remus says, still looking bewildered.

Winnie smiles at him. "It was inspired by you."

"Inspired by me," he parrots for a moment, nodding, before his eyes widen fractionally. "Inspired by me?" He blurts.

"What I'm saying is," she begins, folding her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. "I like you."

Maybe the only way to move on was to be properly rejected. Or maybe the only way to move on, Winnie thought selfishly, was to give in to the hope that Sirius had planted.

Remus's face goes slack. And then, wonderfully, a soft pink flush begins to crawl up the nape of his neck, dusting his cheeks in two brilliant splotches. "I— Winnie— But you're—" he flounders, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Dimly, Winnie thinks it's a little unfair how adorable he looks flustered. She also thinks that she wouldn't mind always seeing him flustered.

"But I'm so what?" She asks, tilting her head to the side casually, despite her thundering heartbeat.

"But you're so, so—" he's stammering now, flushed and a little wild-eyed. "—incandescent."

Winnie thought she had control over the conversation, but at his admittance, she feels a little dizzy. "Incandescent," she repeats in a wide-eyed whisper. In that moment, she knew that no boy would ever call her anything as meaningful. That there would be no other boy that would mean anything to her.

Remus's face only turns a brighter scarlet as he backtracks. "I mean, you're you and I'm— I'm Remus," he says nonsensically.

"Remus Lupin," she corrects with a weak laugh, heart still thumping dangerously.

Remus nods earnestly, as if that's supposed to make any sense. "Yeah," he says, throat bobbing as he swallows. "And, and you could do so much better." Winnie's heart clenches a little at the way he can't meet her eyes. "I'm— I'm not good with people— I wouldn't be good for you."

Winnie chewed the inside of her cheek uncertainly. "Remus, I can't tell if you actually think that or if you really don't like me and are just using that as an excuse because I'd rather it if you just rejected me outright—"

"Of course I like you," he blurts a little frantically with a disbelieving laugh. Winnie's heart trembles so violently that she thinks she needs to take a seat. Remus, on the other hand, pales a little at his outburst as he scrubs a hand over his face. "I mean, anybody would. But you could do so much better. I mean, I'm not good with people or talking and I don't—" She can see that he's begun to work himself up into some sort of frazzled frenzy. "I don't have tattoos or eat cigs for breakfast," he blurts.

Winnie does a double-take. "I know?" She says, bewildered. "Where is this coming from?"

"You said the type of guy you're attracted to has tattoos and eats cigs for breakfast."

Winnie balks at him for a moment before she realizes what he's talking about. She wants to laugh but instead holds it in as she stares fondly at the man in front of her. "Remus," she sighs again, stepping closer to him. The knowledge that he liked her back sends thrilling waves of adrenaline through her. Even though he's taller than her, she feels as though she's the one towering over him.

Emboldened, Winnie takes a deep breath, rises to her toes because he's so bloody tall, and grabs him by the cheeks. Remus's mouth clamps shut as his eyes widen. She wishes she could pour all her emotion into her palm and just press it against him so that he would understand.

"I said that those were the guys I attract, not that I'm attracted to. And I think you're lovely, to say in the least. You're kind, brilliant, a wonderful listener. I think your eyes and your smile are stupidly distracting— Actually, I think you're just the prettiest boy I've ever seen. And I wish you could see these things for yourself, but if it means that I have to love you for the both of us, I would be happy to. If you'd let me."

"Oh," Remus blurts, two bright scarlet splotches flushing on his cheeks. Up close, Winnie can see the way the light catches like gold in his brown eyes.

"Sorry, I'm always talking your ear off," she whispers, her fingers curling a little in the waves his hair. His skin is soft and warm beneath her fingers. "It's fine, really, if you want to reject me. But it's not fair for you to make the decision based off what you think I should want. Because I know that I want you and that's enough for me, yeah?"

Remus parts his mouth and Winnie is so sure that he's going to say something stubborn again.

"Can I kiss you?" He murmurs, brown eyes blown dark and wide as they dart to her lips.

Caught entirely caught off guard, all Winnie can do is make an assenting sound before his head is dipping down towards hers swiftly, as though that was all he was waiting for.

There's no soft, chaste exploration she had expected — instead, Remus kisses like he's burning up from the inside, like he's melting into her. His mouth is warm and sweet — he tastes like the earl gray tea she had made — and his lips are soft as one of his hand rises to catch her jaw, his other hand slipping gently to cradle the back of her head, his long fingers in her hair, as he tilts her face up.

Winnie's mind went blank the moment his lips slotted against hers, but she's rendered entirely useless when his teeth tugs at her bottom lip gently. All she can do is cling onto his neck and shoulders — she doesn't even know when her hands had moved from cupping his face — as Remus tries to guide her even closer to him. Winnie doesn't even have the capacity to feel embarrassment at the appreciative sigh that's pulled from her lips when he deepens the kiss.

To her mingled disappointment and relief — because she's started to run out of air and was feeling light-headed — Remus pulls back just far enough to peer at her with wide eyes. "Sorry, was that too much?" He whispers, voice wonderfully hoarse, his lips still brushing against hers. His brown eyes dart from her eyes to her lips and back around as if he can't decide where to look.

Total ladykiller, Winnie thinks dimly. Somehow, he always managed to catch her off guard even when she thought she was in control. "Um," she manages, breathless, her heart nearly giving out now. "Wow."

When she catches sight of him properly, another thrill runs through her. His pretty eyes are dazed over and his lips reddened and flushed. He looks a little dizzy. "Yeah," he murmurs back, equally nonsensically. He brushes a thumb across her jaw, sending a shiver down her spine. Catching this, Remus just smiles at her, as if impossibly endeared, and it does little to calm her heart. "How about a date tomorrow?"

"Not a coffee shop, I hope," Winnie says mulishly in an attempt to deflect from her warming cheeks. But Remus, as always, can see right through her.

A soft laugh rumbles in his chest as he smiles down at her fondly. "We can go wherever you want."

— — — — —

It's rush hour again. There's a dozen cups lined up for her to make and she's begun to lose track of what she's doing. When she glances down at the name of the one she just finished, Winnie doesn't bother hiding her grin as she calls out, "An earl gray for a Remus Lupin!"

Winnie's smile widens when she catches sight of him in his knitted sweater. And then, "I'm missing a drink."

Her smile falters in confusion as she looks down at the earl gray in his hand. "Hm?" She hums, frowning now.

Remus nods down at the other drink she had finished making, his lips twitching. Winnie blinks at his smile distractedly before peering at the cup. "Matcha latte for Cariad?"

Remus just smiles innocently at her, his eyes warm and fond. "That one's for you."

a/n: hope you enjoyed! love love love hearing your thoughts, so let me know what you think! <3 i feel like i could make a whole remus coffee shop -verse of oneshots now... if that's something.... we would be interested in............. i love the idea of wizards interfacing with muggle society and how shite they would be (re: sirius not knowing how to do anything). even though remus's mom is a muggle, i imagine since he's been at hogwarts for most of his life from 11-18 and spent his childhood moving around a lot and living in the more rural areas, i wanted to play off the idea that though he's been in muggle society, he's probably awkward as hell in a muggle city. edit: more remus x winnie oneshots on my masterlist! >> my masterlist!

[mypoisonedvine]

Idk if you’re requests are still open, but if they are I’d love an professor!Fem reader X Eddie. Maybe she’s his college professor in her late 20s/early 30s and he has a crush on her. I was listening to the song Let me love you down by Ready for the world and maybe something inspired by that, where he’s trying to prove that he can make her feel good and do what guys her age can do. I feel like all fics with age gaps are always Eddie being older and not the other way around!

warnings: smut (semi-public, rough, drunken sex lol), age gap (reader is older, doesn't say how much, and eddie is 20), hair pulling, spanking, degradation (but like, friendly playful degradation), alcohol consumption, reader is iconic ngl and eddie is a total beast in the best way

He was down so bad. Embarrassingly bad. Like, Hot for Teacher on repeat, imagining you every night, can’t focus in class, dreams of pencil skirts and button downs bad.

Seriously, Eddie was already struggling enough to keep his grades up; how a super-super senior ever got into college was beyond him, but it’s not like this was the finest establishment of higher education or anything… but you, you were the finest thing he’d ever seen.

Those tight skirts, the heels, the reading glasses, the slight sternness to your lecturing— it was all really doing it for him for some reason. Maybe it was some desire to reclaim all his issues with authority, take some of the power back, you know. Or, alternatively, give up all the power and let you do whatever you wanted to him… he wasn’t particularly picky in that regard.

Either way, he never learned anything in class; he was too busy staring, drooling, dreaming. You dropped the chalkboard eraser and bent over to pick it up, thank god this room had desks or someone might’ve seen him getting hard.

He wondered if you noticed him at all. Unfortunately, you probably did, but for all the wrong reasons: he was totally flunking. And whenever you asked him what part of the material was challenging for him, he couldn’t even answer— because blaming your hotness for his failure wasn’t exactly going to cut it.

Actually, he was thinking of you— of his total ineptitude in your class, of his massive crush on you, all of it— when he saw you that night. Maybe it was an amazing coincidence, or maybe it was sort of bound to happen when he spent as much time thinking about you as he did. Either way, he never expected to see you here, dressed like that.

This bar was the only metalhead spot in town, and the local talent wasn’t quite as good as Eddie remembered Corroded Coffin to be, but they were alright. Tonight was a band he’d never seen before called Gore Whore. With a name like that, they had to be pretty good.

So, yeah, he was expecting some decent music and a few drinks, not to see his professor rocking a very new vibe— black leather, messy eyeliner, but thankfully still with the same sexy glasses. Honestly, he had to fight off a semi just seeing you dressed like that…

Now he had to figure out if he should talk to you or not. He had to, right? But also, like, how?

Well, his first step was to chug down his current drink and then throw back another as quickly as he could: liquid courage, right?

His second step was to rub his clammy palms on his jeans until he decided it was the right time to approach you. He didn't want to wait until the band was playing because, if they were any good, they'd be way too loud to hold a conversation during their set. He kept putting it off out of nervousness until he saw musicians starting to plug instruments in and tune, and realized he would probably be too late if he waited any longer.

He finally convinced himself to saunter over to where you were standing, linger behind you creepily when you didn't see him, and clear his throat before breaking the silence.

“Hey, teach,” he greeted, hoping it wasn’t a terribly stupid opening line. You turned over your shoulder and took a second to recognize him before you smiled.

“Hey, Edward M…un—" you hesitated.

“Munson, yeah,” he grinned, “or just Eddie.”

“Munson!” you repeated. “For some reason I kept thinking ‘Munster’, I guess I’m showing my age a bit with that one…”

You don’t look your age at all, he wanted to say, but then he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or just some backwards way of calling you old— which you weren’t! But you were just a bit too old for him, from a societal acceptance standpoint, which was exactly what made it so tempting. “I, uh, didn’t expect to see you here,” he pointed out, motioning to the club.

“Well, I don’t come here a lot,” you admitted, “but I used to. You know, when I was a bit more young and rebellious like you.”

“You act like you’re a grandma or something,” he laughed, “you’re young, you know.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I don’t come here a lot, is the point.”

“Why’d you come out tonight?” He wondered. “Is your, uh, boyfriend in the band or something?”

The way you raised your eyebrow at him made it clear his subtle probe wasn’t so subtle after all. “Gore Whore? It’s an all-female band…”

“O-oh, right…” he trailed off. “I mean, maybe your girlfriend’s in the band, I dunno, that’s cool too.”

You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “I don’t have time for any of that, Munson. Boyfriends or girlfriends.”

“What do you have time for?” he asked.

“I mean, I’ve got nowhere to be tonight,” you shrugged. “What did you have in mind?”

His heart raced. “I— I dunno, maybe you can’t do, like, dating or whatever, but maybe you’re into, perhaps… some ill-advised fooling around with your charming, boyish, young and rebellious student?”

You laughed again, but the look in your eye was promising. “Really swinging for the fences, huh?” you noticed.

“I’m, uh, pretty drunk, actually,” he admitted.

“Yeah? Me too,” you grinned. “My place or yours?”

He choked on his own throat. Did that actually just work? Or was he hallucinating somehow? "Uh, I mean, if you wanna be really ill-advised, my van's parked out back..."

The smile you gave him then was enough to make him weak in the knees. It was the same smile you were giving him as he laid back in the van and you kept going down, down, to the bulge under his belt.

"Fuck," he gasped as you got his jeans open, yanking them down his thighs enough to free his throbbing cock; your fingers were so soft on his silky, sensitive skin, and he admired the way you licked your lips as you stroked him. "You're so fuckin' hot. Fuck."

You looked at his face again, looking quite proud of yourself. "You thought about this, didn't you?" you noticed.

"This? No," he denied. "Fucking you in the classroom, or your office, in my dorm? I thought about that a lot."

You giggled slightly as you spit down onto his dick, slicking the movements of your hand which made him flex against it.

"But I never thought we'd end up in the back of my van behind the ba— oh, fuck!"

Your lips were around the head of his cock, and you'd already started bobbing your head and stroking the rest in rhythm. No teasing, no build-up, just getting right to it: it was so sexy to him, he could've melted right there. He nearly did; he tilted his head back with a groan, reaching up to hold the back of your head though he didn't push you down 'cause, you know, he's respectful and all that.

"Damn," he laughed thinly, though he knitted his eyebrows together and bit his lip a second later. "You— fuck, that's good, you're so— god, babydoll..."

You smiled slightly around him, pulling off with a gasp and stroking his spit-soaked cock in the meantime. "Better than the girls your age do it, huh?"

He nodded quickly, swallowing even though his mouth was suddenly dry. You bent back down and licked a long stripe up his cock, even lathing his balls with your tongue for a moment, before speaking again.

"What about you? Do you know how to fuck like a grown-up?" you taunted. "Or are you just an overgrown teenager like most twenty-year-old guys?"

He smiled a little, finally feeling like he knew how to handle you. "Oh, sweetheart— I can rock you better than anything you would've heard in there tonight. Promise."

"Promise?" you repeated teasingly. "Talk is cheap, big boy."

That it is; and he had a plan to shut you up. Shoving your head back down, he groaned as he slid his cock all the way to the back of your throat. "Fuck," he said again, louder, "there you go— I'll fuck you right, babydoll, but you gotta earn it first. Maybe it's my turn to teach you a few things, hm?"

When he gave you another break, you were still playing cocky with him. "Considering your grade in my class, Munson, I'm not sure I've been teaching you anything."

"Why don't you teach me what that shirt of yours looks like inside out?" he encouraged. Smiling proudly as you stripped yourself of the leather jacket and t-shirt, he palmed his own cock— slowly, careful not to get himself too worked up yet— and admired you. "Wanna show me that pussy, too? Been imagining it for a little too long, I think..."

You peeled your jeans off and he bared his teeth at the sight of your panties— black, lacy, everything he'd dreamt of since he first saw you.

"What are you wearing those for, babydoll?" he cooed, reaching out to run his fingers over the lace on your hip. "What did you come out here for tonight?"

"You know what I came here for," you challenged, "so are you gonna gimme it or not?"

Well, he was gonna do his best.

Only a little while later, he had you bent over the console with those panties around your knees, a fistful of your hair in his fingers, your ass bouncing on him with every thrust; he was fucking you hard and fast and mean, doing his best to make you regret questioning if he was old enough to do this right.

"S'that how you like it?" he taunted. "You just need to get treated like a dirty whore, don't you? Tired of all the authority, just wanna keep your legs open for somebody, be their little slut for the night?"

"Yes," you sobbed, clinging tighter onto the console with a whimper. "Yes, Eddie, fuck... fuck me like that, just like that."

He gave your ass a hard spank with his free hand, loving the way you tightened up on him and moaned so loud from the pain. "Beg me to hit you more," he instructed.

"Spank me again, please, Eddie," you whined, getting another few hits on your stinging ass as your reward. "Fuck! Fuck, so good..."

He gripped your hips to keep you still and drive himself deeper than he thought possible, and you yelped as your toes curled and your legs kicked. One of your hands reached back instinctively and tried to grab at his hip, keep him from going too far into you, but you were a little too weak to have any real impact on him. "No no," he scolded, "I'm just giving you what you wanted, babydoll. Giving you all this dick— fuck, take all this dick, whore."

Whining and hiding your face under your arms, you tried to arch your back up before he shoved it back down with his hand to keep your ass nice and on display for him, groaning with pride. "Fuck, Eddie!"

"Isn't this what you came here for?" he smirked, grinding his cock deep inside you as you squirmed. "Got all dressed up in your little black panties, took yourself out to the club so some stranger could treat you like this?"

Though your face was still hidden, you nodded.

"Guess I really do need to teach you a few things, sweetheart," he announced proudly. "Like what happens when you tell a guy to fuck you like a grown-up. Now hold on tight, babydoll, m'gonna make sure you don't forget me too quick— you're gonna feel this tomorrow when you're teaching my class."

[obsolescent]

This Side of Paradise - Part One

Part Two

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x GN!Reader

Summary: Kyle and you are roommates–flatmates–while you study abroad in the UK. He’s usually gone due to his work and it doesn’t bother you, at first. You like being alone and like little company, but you start to feel an odd pang after a traumatic event happens that causes him to come back from base early. 

Category/Prompt: Two-part series | "I'll take care of you."

Author's Notes: Ahhh I'm so excited to be participating in @glitterypirateduck's GazFest! I've been meaning to finish this and this has given me that push. This is also the first event I've participated in on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Swearing, mentions of a fire but not very descriptive, reader is from the southern US, reader is more introverted, Kyle is worried for your wellbeing.

Word Count: 1,267

Another night studying, another night alone. You don’t mind, being more on the reclusive side. You really don’t mind having to interact with others, you just prefer not to. Speaking of which, you quite enjoy having a roommate–flatmate, as he would say–that’s hardly home. He doesn’t correct you in a rude way, more like he’s trying to teach you to use more of the dialect here. He’s gone for months at a time every once in a while, typically it’s just a few weeks, then he’s back for a month and the cycle repeats. It has to do with the military, but that’s all he would say about his line of work. You have a part time job at a gas–petrol, he would correct you again–station. The cultural difference between home and here is a lot more than you were expecting, having been in America your whole life to suddenly being “across the pond.”

Though the interactions you have with people here are very amusing, the double takes when people hear you at work has you “hooting and hollering”, so to speak. Most ask for you to keep talking, interested in your accent. It’s led to a few good conversations, if you’re being honest. There’s a handful of some, though, who’ve heard you speak and think you’re dumber than a bag of rocks and let you know so. Those aren’t as amusing. Regardless, it’s been a pleasant experience overall while staying in the UK, especially with the one you’re rooming with.

Meeting Kyle was by chance. He had listed his…flat, on a website that helps students around the world find accommodation close to colleges and universities. You had seen in the listing that he wasn’t home often, and being more of an introvert, that seemed like the best option for you. You had reached out and agreed on a time to chat. He was more than what you were expecting in every which way. Charismatic, kind, funny, and definitely including looks. He’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. You’re glad he’s away for the most part, having someone around looking like that would surely be a distraction for you.

After that first initial conversation with Kyle, you were sure he would be the one you would be living with while studying abroad. After getting everything sorted out, between speaking with your advisor and obtaining a passport, you were set to fly out. Kyle practically demanded he pick you up and take you to your shared quarters, since the airport was quite a drive away from the apartment. He also mentioned wanting to show you around some. Ever the gentleman. Thankful for his offer at being a free tour guide, you take him up on the offer. You were glad to have met someone willing to help out and be so generous towards you, it was in his nature and you knew just by his interactions with you that he did this for everyone that came into his life.

Back to the present, it’s a Tuesday night, and there’s not much going on for you. After leaving work, you came home and made a quick dinner for yourself and settled down on the couch for a study session. You slide your earbuds in, unable to focus if it’s an actual song, and listen to sounds of nature, rain and the like. Hours have passed since you’ve immersed in your college work, sounds blaring through the speakers in your ears. You don’t realize the fire alarm has started blaring.

What finally gets you to notice is the sudden phone call that cuts the sounds out, a call from Kyle. He must’ve received an alert. “Hey–woah–I just noticed that–” “Bloody Hell! Are you still in the flat? Get outside! Christ!” You don’t even think, your brain going into panic mode, you snatch your shoes from beside the door and run for the stairs. You’re on the fifth floor, happy that you can see so much of the city, but not so happy in the event of a fire, like now. You’re not sure where the fire is located, you’re just hoping it won’t prevent you from reaching the exit. ‘What the hell would I even do if it is? Don’t think like that, just keep running, just keep going don’t think about it–’

“Are you there, love? You alright? Please say something–” Kyle’s frantic voice finally breaks through your internal monologue, earbuds still secured in your ears. “S-sorry, Kyle, I was just…I’m on my way down, I’m on the third floor now.” Your feet carrying you faster than you’ve ever ran before, you’re not seeing anyone else on the stairs…God, how long has the alarm been going off? What about the sprinkler system, why hasn’t it turned on already?’ “Thank God, it’ll be alright, just take some deep breaths and keep pushing, yeah? You’ll be outside before you know it. I’m right here with you.” His reassurance is welcomed, taking his advice, you begin some breathing exercises the best you can while scurrying down the flights of stairs.

Second floor, almost there. You feel like you’re flying down the steps, everything numb. You round the corner, about to hit the top step of the next flight when you see it. Fuck, that’s smoke. “K-Kyle, the fire, it’s on the second floor.” You begin to cough, covering your nose and mouth with your sleeve. “Fucking hell. Go back up to the previous floor. The hallway windows should have an external fire escape. Try those, yeah?” You nod your head even though he cannot see, trying to breathe like he told you to. You push the door open into the third floor’s hallway, the window to your right just a few feet away. You rush to it, having to yank on the window a few times before it pries open.

It’s one of those ladders that retracts, the end of it about 20 feet from the ground without the extension. You try releasing the mechanism that will release the other part to extend fully, but it won’t budge. You toss your shoes to the ground below, beginning to brace yourself to drop the rest of the way. “Did you get it?” You hear him ask, shuffling coming from his side of the call. “Y-yeah I got it, the ladder won’t extend all the way, fall’s maybe 20 feet.” “You can do it, love, just tuck your chin and lower your head when you drop. May be bruised and cut up some, but you’ll be alright, you can do it.” You get to the last rung, letting yourself dangle for a moment before taking the leap, literally. You take a deep breath and let go.

You hit the ground with an explosion of pain in your left arm. Letting out a cry of pain you hold onto your arm, moving other limbs in different directions to check their conditions. Kyle yells your name, “Hey! I need you to answer me, are you alright? What’s wrong?” Kyle cuts through the fuzziness in your brain. “F-Fuck. My arm, I think I broke it.” You begin to stand on shaky legs, testing the rest of your endurance. You falter and collapse to the ground, absolutely exhausted. The adrenaline must have worn off now that you’re no longer in immediate danger.

You lay your head back against the concrete, staring up at the night sky. The moon is bright and beautiful, hanging low. It’s the last thing you see before you slip into unconsciousness, Kyle calling your name over and over again lost to oblivion.

Tags: @sofasoap, since you tag me in your Gaz fics!

[not-goldy]

A lot of people think its Jennie's friend with him in the video. She posted pics around the same time with the same hair cut/length. She is also tall. She was confirmed at Jennie's CK launch when JK was and confirmed at Coachella BP concert when JK was. So it could be they are genuine friends, since he was hanging with Tae and they all ran in the same circle.

I'm more interested in the timeline of events around the video. A few days before that video was filmed (according to the leaker date) Jk returned to weverse & it was during the height of Dior/Paris promotions & Vibe promotions when Jimin was at his busiest, about to go into Face promotions. It only took Jk 20 minutes in before he started talking about Jimin & singing Vibe. He said hey I missed y'all, I haven't left the house in 7 days, I'm drinking heavy, I'm in my PJ's, I am unmotivated, I want to be a rock, so about Jimin. Lets talk about Jimin. And comes back a few days later, brings up Jimin again. Then the apartment video was filmed & we know Jk was with Tae in Hawaii some time after that video, cause it was the 20th/21st of Feb he was in Hawaii. After he get backs, you guessed it, he starts another live talking about Jimin & he repeats this pattern til he was alone crying on White Day. White Day is their valentines & they spent it together the year before, this time Jimin was out of town & Jk was alone for four hours live non stop talking about Jimin & their trip and spoiling his upcoming songs & crying. Jimin shows up & next thing you know a few days later JK says he misses Jimin & starts up a 2 hour Jimin live. Clearly whoever it is was in the video with JK didn't take his mind off Jimin, neither did being with Tae & his friends take his mind off Jimin or going out with his 97 line, cause the entire time he kept asking one person over, Jimin. More importantly whoever that is with Jk in the video, is someone JK doesn't see as his GF since he denied having one, then posted a video right after saying I go the other way. So apartment person, Tae & his friends, 97 line, didn't fulfill them needs for JK. If they did & he was really happy he wouldn't have been showing his ass out over Jimin like he was, publicly. Who knows, Jk might've landed his ass in the dog house with JM in chapter 2 and if he did, I can see how easily JK could do that. Either way, Jimin finally got worn down and took the bait and look where we are today. You tried to warn people Jikook be messy in love lol. They should've listened to you.

Oooooh that's interesting

Yea I know Jk and Jennie be friends too

Lmao

For me I just can't see how Jungkook will come on live and do all that he does over Jimin and also have someone else he's intimate with in his private life

How he is with Jimin will always be used as a measure of how much he loves and I feel that will always go against him.

Jimin is the yardstick with which the members gage how much effort Jungkook puts into them.

Any girl or boy in his life would want him doing the same over and beyond for them because each time he back hugs someone the image of him doing the same thing with a boy the internet believes he is whipped for will burn in their brains

And they sure gonna have to talk about the Jimin rumors and I want to be a fly on them walls when all that go down

You know what they say comparison will steal your joy

Good luck to them

[safety-pin-punk]

Damn its like people aren’t allowed to have an opinion on this site.

So instead of relenting, I will repeat myself. I did not misread the post. I understand the post was saying that being punk requires both enjoying punk music and being inherently leftist. I get that. Really I do. I just. Do not agree with it. Sue me.

Punk is SO much more than just a music genre. (Though yes I am FULLY AWARE that it is a music based culture. And it started because of the music. And etc etc etc.) i’ve actually written an entire post on EVERYTHING ELSE INVOLVED IN PUNK CULTURE BESIDES THE FUCKING MUSIC (you can find it here)

I simply, in the year 2023. Do not understand WHY you would so heavily enforce the idea that someone HAS to like punk music to be a punk. If there are two people who are dressed alternatively, and engaged in leftist actions, it doesnt matter which of them likes punk music. To the outside world, both of them are troublesome punks. Hell punk used to just be a word used to refer to gay people. I hate the idea that there is this defined line between who qualifies as punk and who doesnt. Its a word with a definition. Words and definitions change and evolve over time. Get over it.

And even going back to just punk music. What even is punk music? How do you define the genre?? You dont! Because its SO diverse!!!!!! The only common thread is that the lyrics have leftist values! And if you want to go that route, a lot of hip hop artists or old country songs are actually SUPER leftist!! But you wouldnt call them punk. Is it the distorted sound? Well distortion goes all the way back to rock music in the 60s!! (And honestly probably further). The use of the word punk to describe music doesnt even start with punk music in the 60s/70s! IT GOES ALL THE WAY BACK TO 1899

Sure we can all look at the Sex Pistols and agree that is punk music by a classic punk band. But what about Green Day? Or is that just alt rock? Or Rage Against the Machine? Are they too metal despite their obvious punk influences? Do you see what I mean??? Its all alternative. To anyone outside of these subcultures they dont care. It just. Gets WAY too gatekeepy for me with these kinds of stupid arguments. Just let people listen to whatever the fuck they want. I’d rather call someone listening to pop music but hates cops with a burning passion and is willing to do something about it a punk than someone more concerned about peoples music tastes than actual fucking problems in the world.

And you dont have to agree with me. Thats fine. You are entitled to your opinion as well. But next time, instead of assuming I’m stupid and being a prick about it, how about you just unfollow. Cause you can do that. Hell if I really annoy you, theres even a button to block me!

[channie-binnie]

Thoughts on the Stray Kids ATE Album

Wanted to just randomly put my thoughts and feelings regarding each song in the album because this is my first comeback with SKZ

Chk Chk Boom - Holy shit. This was the song I was looking forward to the most, and it did not fucking disappoint. As a Mexican Stay, just hearing them sing a little Spanish was everything to me. But what I loved most was Changbin’s flow. Idk it’s different from what I am used to hearing from him, but I enjoyed his parts the most. And the MV? I knew that Ryan Reynolds is a huge fan of SKZ, with Hugh Jackman being a fellow Aussie. I loved their cameo in the MV, and I bet they had fun filming it as well (Changbin could not keep it together and broke out in a smile when Ryan was speaking towards the end). As of now, have probably replayed the song more than 10 times due to it being so fucking good.

Mountains - This one I feel is going to take the longest for me to have it be up there as one of my favs. Not saying that it’s bad, but I don’t see myself going back to that song specifically (no hate please). I don’t have as much to talk about this one, but let’s see if my opinion changes in the future once I continue listening to it a few more times.

JJAM - I was moving to this one specifically. Well, I was moving to the whole song. The “peanut butter jelly time” line goes hard ngl (bonus mention of the “I know, you know, Lee Know). I love whenever Changbin and Han go back and forth with their raps. Idk what else to say except that this is definitely a no-skip for me.

I Like It - This song is right after Chk Chk Boom for me. Seungmin’s intro?? Hooked me right away. But damn once you read the lyrics? Damn. But that really is the reality of love for some people. The falsetto of Seungmin, I.N, Lee Know, and Chan’s voices before the chorus? Fuck yes. This is another song that is on repeat for me.

Runners - Chan and Hyunjin are just ugh. Their vocal delivery? Yes. And Seungmin killed it in this song. This is not to say that I am ignoring Felix, because damn. I thought I would get used to his deep voice, but there are still times I would get caught off guard. I.N’s voice continues to be absolutely heavenly to listen to.

Twilight - The song sounds rich, if that makes any sense. I can easily imagine this song playing at an expensive restaurant. I wasn’t sure if the album was going to have a slow song, so I was surprised to hear this one. My music taste is all over the place, but I immediately loved the slowness of this one.

Stray Kids - This one made me emotional. I know I haven’t been a Stay for long (like 2 months now) but it makes me feel happy to see how much they accomplished as a group, and I feel the fans that have been there since the beginning, that feeling is a lot more stronger. After hearing that they still want to continue doing music together (with them renewing their contracts for more years) is something that I am looking forward to in the future. With the callbacks to their older song titles, I’m just happy that they still want to be together. Older fans must be feeling something else right now.

Chk Chk Boom (Festival Version) - I will say, regarding Rockstar, I didn’t quite enjoy the rock version of LaLaLaLa, as I preferred the original much more. But this version of Chk Chk Boom? Both the og and this version are tied. I don’t know which one I prefer tbh. I might prefer the og, but this version is so fucking good I can imagine myself not caring which version gets played.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Strong Enough To Stand

1200 words for 1200 followers #5

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! This one sort of follows one of the other requests that I got for Joel for this event called It Pours From Your Eyes, but it can also be read as stand alone. 

Warnings: loss, mention of character death, Joel Miller’s big sad eyes

Requested by: @senorabond​ Song: Heavy In Your Arms Character Choice: Joel Miller - thank you so much for sending this in! This song is such a good choice for Joel, and I hope you like the direction that I took it in! 

Summary: It’s a difficult day for Joel, and though you don’t know the details of why, you try to be there for him the best way that you can. Joel realizes that he doesn’t have to repeat his regrets - so he doesn’t. 

Joel cleared the gravel from his throat as soon as the stream came into view. 

He hadn’t spoken since that morning, the two of you wordlessly breaking down your camp. For most of the day there had been nothing but your horses’ hooves on the hard ground to break the silence. It was nearing sundown when he finally spoke your name, voice creaking with disuse. 

That’s not all it is. 

You’d known to expect this when you woke up that morning - even though you’d done so with his arms around you, holding you against his chest. You’d known to expect it because you’d seen him like this before. 

Today means something. 

It was an annual occurrence, one of those horrible anniversaries that everyone had. A ritual of remembrance that did nothing to lessen the load he carried, but that he needed to do anyway. 

You’d been assigned to a patrol with him shortly after he and Ellie showed up when you witnessed it the first time. He’d asked you to wait with the horses while he filled the canteens at the stream. You hardly knew him then, but the look in his eyes was all you needed to know that he was really asking for a moment to himself. Your canteen was still full, but you handed it to him with a nod, turning to give him privacy. You hadn’t meant to, but when you turned back around at the sound of his footsteps approaching again, you’d noticed a small stack of rocks near the water’s edge. 

Joel was a stranger to you then. You knew next to nothing about him, only that he was Tommy Miller’s brother. But you knew why people built memorials. Why they carved names into trees, spoke to the wind, left notes where no one would find them. You wanted to know who the stone pyramid was for, what that person meant to him. But you knew better than to ask. 

You were certain that was why he had chosen to slowly trust you. 

The following year, when he was assigned to another patrol around the same time, Joel requested you as his partner. Again as you’d neared the stream a few miles outside of town, he suggested that you stick with the horses so he could refill your water supply. Though you purposely kept your eyes averted that time, the sound of rocks knocking together reached your ears.

But still, you said nothing when Joel returned. 

The two of you were friends by then. More than friends, some nights. The trust and comfort you found in each other had grown, not taking down walls entirely, but opening doors from time to time. You’d brought him into your bed. He’d taken you into his arms. But there were still lines that you didn’t cross - wouldn’t cross, unless Joel did first. 

With the passing of another year, you felt him coming closer to those lines than he ever had before. And fuck, you were ready. You were ready to see the rest of him, the parts he hadn’t shown you yet, ready to take half the weight from his heart even if it was enough to sink yours. 

You were ready to love him. 

But right now there was something that you knew he had to do. Even if you still didn’t know the reason behind it. 

It’s important to him. That’s what matters. 

Clicking your tongue, you stopped your horse next to Joel’s, climbing down as he did the same. When he looked up, your eyes locked with his and even though you knew what to expect, seeing the raw ache in them nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. You wanted to wrap your arms around him, lace your fingers together behind his neck and show him that you were there, right there with him. 

You didn’t, though. Instead, you handed him your canteen before he could ask for it. You resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss the patch of skin that showed through his beard, let your lips linger there like a punctuation point. Like they did when you shared sheets in the dark. “I’ll stay with the horses, Joel.” 

Something new flashed in his eyes then, something different from what you’d come to expect from this ritual. The roughened pads of his fingers grazed your knuckles as he took the canteen from you, and you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the heaviness that had stolen his words. He held your gaze for a few seconds longer, almost as though he was waiting for something. 

But then he nodded, turning with a sniff and heading for the water.

–  –  –

Joel’s hand plunged beneath the water, grasping for the flat rock that lay at the bottom. It would make for a solid base. Pulling it out, he set it on the bank, a ragged sigh pushing its way through his lips. 

Three years. 

He chose another stone, squeezing it tightly before stacking it atop the first. 

Goddamnit I miss you, Tess. 

The next rock that caught his eye was partially embedded in the muck. He worked his fingertips under it to pull it free, adding it to the pile. It was hefty and broad, strong enough to stand up to wind and weather. Strong enough to last. 

Like we were. 

He was almost certain that she knew how he felt about her. But almost wasn’t good enough. He knew that, now. 

I’m sorry I never said it. I should have. 

He topped the memorial with a smooth, white-gray oval shaped stone. 

I should have told you that I loved you. 

Joel looked down at the cairn letting a fat tear drop onto it. A slight breeze blew over his damp cheeks and he closed his eyes, remembering her last words to him. 

“Save who you can save.”

Your face joined hers behind his eyelids then, and the thought that had been playing on repeat since he woke that morning echoed in his brain again. He shivered, despite the warm summer air. 

I have to tell her. Tonight.  

He’d waited too long to tell Tess. He didn’t want the first time that he said aloud that he loved you to be to a pile of rocks. 

–  –  –  

You made it to the safehouse just before nightfall, Joel’s silence continuing after his return with the canteens. It lasted through your meal. You figured that he wouldn’t break it until the next day. 

But then, with his arms around you, just like they were that morning, he did.

 “I wanna tell you about today.” His lips landed behind your ear. “I wanna tell you about everything. But I have to say something first. Somethin’ that scares the hell out of me but - ”  He sighed. “Something I should have said to you a long time ago.” 

You held your breath for a few seconds, your heart smashing at your ribs.

“I love you.”

His words dropped directly into your heart, solid and sure and strong. 

You didn’t know when the tears started, but they were there when you lay your arm over his, squeezing back. “I love you, too, Joel.” 

I always will. 

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

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[mastermindmp3]

Well, we've finally reached it. The song that made me first start crying on my initial TTPD listen.

There's so much to this song, so much about how we use up and discard the women who make culture. Clara Bow is about the women who get held up as touchstones posthumously / very late into their careers. Swift has stated that she pulled from actual examples used about her, but I can think of so many more that could've been pulled in board rooms.

You look like Gwen Stefani, you look like Brittney Spears, you look like a Spice Girl. I can think of so, so many examples, beyond the ones who are listed in Clara Bow. We, as in the public consciousness, forget the women who shaped the imagery we love. Billie Holiday shaped jazz and pop, Anna May Wong as a pivotal film actress in Hollywood's earliest days, and Sister Rosetta Tharpe for rock and roll. For a very long time, any plus size woman trying to get into music was compared to Adele, and now it's Lizzo.

Young women, especially those in the media industry, are constantly, constantly inundated with women we are supposed to be like, but not entirely. We're supposed to be the better version of them, damned with faint praise. A line that has, in hindsight, stuck out to me was "You look like Stevie Nicks in '75, the hair and lips," because... Why '75?

Obviously, part of it is for the rhyme scheme. But the song is told entirely in quotes, something someone said. Swift looks like Stevie Nicks in '75, because she looks like Stevie when she was young, when she was "new," when she was dazzling.

That's not to say that Stevie Nicks isn't a powerhouse now. She still performs, still writes. She performed this year! In 2024! And yet, she will forever be frozen in '75, when she was with Fleetwood Mac and was releasing their self-titled album, in the throes of writing Rumorus. ( side note: please read the history of Rumours writing process. )

It's an endless cycle: women's ideas are taken, consumed by the public, and when only the bones remain, they're used to compare.

"Promise to be dazzling" is the ending line of the chorus - and it's both a beautiful, poignant reminder that the women listed in the song have captured audience's hearts and minds, and a threat. Promise us that you'll be dazzling, you'll forever be sixteen, forever hold up these ideals and stay the exact same.

I think Swift said it best herself, "There's this thing people say about celebrities, that they're frozen at the age they got famous." The demand is: promise to remain the newest thing, and we will always love you.

The truth is that, well, it's not possible. The promise is designed to not be kept. When public opinion turns on these women, it's to detract from their legacy of art.

Getting older is not a curse, it's a gift. We have so many public figures who didn't get that gift, who are frozen at 18, at 22, at 27. And yet, the societal demand is that women stay young, women can only be beautiful, can only be successful if they are young.

A couple of other songwriting notes.

"Did you know you'd be picked, like a rose?" Another question from imaginary men in meetings; did you know, you would be picked to be the new great thing? Did you know, that you too will begin to wilt under the pressure?

I love the repeats of "I'm not trying to exaggerate, but I think I might die if it happened to me / I might die if I made it." Because it relates back to that idea of how caustic fame is. How everyone around the Narrator (very much Swift, in this case) can see how she's being affected by it, and are indirectly praising her for being so strong. Neverminding that this entire album is a statement, a saying of "fame has drained me so, please let me off this pedestal."

But, didn't you know? "[You're] flesh and blood amongst war machines / You're the new god we're worshiping."

That final verse - You look like Taylor Swift, in this light, we're loving it. You've got edge, she never did. The future's bright, dazzling. Her delivery of the lines is soft, but the intent is clear. It doesn't actually matter who the imaginary board director is addressing - it doesn't matter which of the new generation of pop artists look, sound, act, are like Taylor Swift.

What matters, I think, is the warning. Don't let them do this to you. Do not let them tell you that youth is all you have, do not let them make you follow the mold of women before you, that you may only ever be bejeweled right now.

The future, too, is dazzling.

[teyums]

Until We Meet Again. | Neteyam Oneshot

wc: 1.3k

a/n: apologizing in advance for the future tears shed, today was a gloomy day and i got inspired </3 play the song “listen before i go” by billie eilish for enhanced reading experience

contains: intense angst, feelings of guilt, grief, mention of unalive

summary: after neteyam protects you in the line of fire and takes a bullet for you, you desperately try and tend to his wounds. his fate is sealed, and now you and his family must deal with the aftermath of losing your loved one.

Your world had officially gone dark. Everything around you stilled; everything but the little time you had left with him. Neteyam had protected you from the line of fire on the ship, shoving you out of the way and into the water before jumping in after you. You heard the bullets ring out, not knowing they had made contact until you looked back to see him struggling to stay afloat in the water. You assisted Jake and Lo’ak in carrying him onto Three Brother’s Rock, making sure to cushion his head when he was lowered and trying to slow your breathing to no avail. You stared down at Neteyam’s bloodied body with sheer panic in your eyes and sat up on your knees, hovering your hands around aimlessly as you didn’t even know where to start. Neytiri’s wails were heart wrenching, holding onto his leg and pressing her forehead against it while she prayed to the great mother not to take her eldest son.

“Pressure, apply pressure!” Jake’s voice pierced through the ringing in your ears and brought you back to reality, forcefully grabbing your hands and pushing them over the bullet wound in your mate’s chest. You nodded frantically, tears welling in your eyes as you felt his blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers regardless of your attempts to stop it.

“It’s okay, bro. It’s okay, we got you,” The younger sully tried his hardest to reassure his older brother, Neteyam’s hand firmly grasping his bicep while Lo’ak nodded at him. Though his words sounded positive, he looked just as unconvinced as Jake did.

A choked grunt could be heard from Neteyam, crimson splattering onto his chin when he coughed. He shakily raised his hand to your face— a small, pained smile inching onto his lips at how hard you were trying to help him, knowing your efforts were futile but grateful to feel your immense love in his last moments. You leaned into his touch, wanting so badly to hold his hand but refusing to remove your hands from his wound. Hoping. Praying your attempts would save him. “My love, we will meet again.” He croaked.

“No, no, no,” You shut your eyes tightly, vigorously shaking your head back and forth. “Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m about to lose you. You’re gonna be fine, okay?” Your voice wavered while you tried your best to assure him. Something in your mind told you this wouldn’t turn out like you hoped, but you pushed the thought away.

“Tell me,” A tear rolled down his face and you felt his chest shuddering under your hands as he struggled to breathe, “Tell me you will visit me.” He forced out, his voice breaking in the middle of his sentence.

You bit your lip to stop it from quivering. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it. I can’t lose you, Neteyam.” Tears rushed from your eyes and he used the energy he had left to wipe one away with his thumb. Even at a time like this, in his dying moments, he still felt the need to care for you.

“Say it, [Y/n]. Please, I need to hear you say it.” He hastily repeated himself in between short-winded breaths, as if he knew he was running out of time.

You hurriedly nodded your head, staring down at the love of your life starting to slip away from your grasp. “Yes, yes! I will visit you. Just, please, hold on a little longer. Help is coming, stay with me.” You pleaded, voice coming in and out due to your throat beginning to tighten. He blinked dazedly, his eyes threatening to roll back as he tried his hardest to stay awake. You felt his hand that was cupping your cheek slip away, your eyes flicking down to his now limp arm then back up to his face. “Neteyam,” You urged fearfully, watching his pupils dilate for the last time, then shrink when the life left his eyes.

It was quiet for a moment, then Neytiri’s desperate howl for her son split through the silence. Jake looked stunned, forcing his tears back as he pulled his wife into his arms, shushing her and stroking her hair in an effort to calm her down. Your lips parted and you stared down at your mate in disbelief, reluctantly pulling your hands away to see that the blood pouring from his wound had stopped. Your body trembled at the sight of red against your blue skin, instantly leaning forward to cup his expressionless face in your hands. A distressed, horrified scream involuntarily left your lips before you could hold it back, his head limply rolling from side to side while your shaky fingers tried to caress it.

“No, no, no. Please,” You begged to whatever spirits were listening, denial shrouding what was clear as day in front of you. You dropped down and pressed an ear to his chest, your eyes wide as you searched for a heartbeat that would never sound again. “Neteyam, Neteyam!” You shot back up and shook his shoulders in a desperate attempt to bring him back, anything to stop Eywa from taking him from you. His body lifelessly rocked back and forth from the force of your actions and you snapped your head around to look to Jake for help, ears falling flat. “Why isn’t he waking up? Do something!” You sobbed between broken gasps for air, Jake only shaking his head to tell you there was nothing else that could be done.

Lo’ak reached forward, grabbing you and hurriedly bringing your body back and into his as you continued to cry. “No!” You screeched and clawed at his grip, desperately trying to fight your way back over to his older brother. He locked his hold around you, his large frame easily keeping your back to his chest while you flailed around, refusing to accept what just transpired. “Lo’ak, let me go!” You choked out, kicking your legs in retaliation and helplessly pulling at his forearms in hopes he would release you. He wouldn’t. “Please…” You cried.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” He trembled as he held you in his arms, using all his strength to quiet the whimpers that were threatening to leave his mouth while aimlessly repeating himself.

You had insisted on coming along to help them save their friend, and in doing so, Neteyam died saving you. This was your fault. The blame was yours and the blood was on your hands to prove it.

You took a deep, stuttered breath, the adrenaline leaving your body along with the rest of your will to fight. You weeped in agony, your shrieks of anguish deafening as you sunk back against Lo’ak. He tried his best to comfort you, using one of his arms to hold you and the other folded over his mouth to stifle his approaching sobs. Your shoulders slumped, bloodied hands raising to clutch your cramping chest as you winced in pain. You physically felt your heart shatter inside your rib cage; the one person who had the power to piece it back together laid out in front of you, the rocks below him stained ruby.

You wished it had been you instead.

[kisekii]

Chapter 1-Eleni

You don’t listen to rock.

Sounds from my youth sputter out Let’s dance to the dried-up melody I don’t think you listen to rock But I’d really love it if you got a lil’ closer to me -aimyon

//

“Do you listen to rock?” a voice like honey, sweet but also a little raspy. A smell of lemon, sour. Not so sour.

I opened my eyes and raised my head, I guess I looked shocked. The train of my thoughts came to a stop just as I got caught in two sharp dark eyes that looked back at me almost amazed, curious and there was something else... something I couldn’t yet name.

“Do you listen to rock?” He repeated, this time with even more sweetness in his voice. I felt lost, something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Why would a stranger knowledge me? Had I been transferred to a parallel world?

But I could still feel the wetness that the tears had left on my cheeks, the tiredness on my eyes and the redness of my face.

I sighed. I hated sweets.

“If your job is to promote rock bands, do not waste your time here.” I answered as I got up and stretched my arms. How long had I been sitting there? My body was so stiff, I was afraid it would crack if I moved.

“You didn’t answer my question.” he adverted his eyes, there was a half moon smile without happiness in his face. Was he disappointed? He seemed disappointed.

I hated disappointing others.

“No, I don’t.” I answered with a small voice.

“Ah I knew it.” His smile grew bigger, showing excitement. That bright smile must have been his strongest point.

“Here. Let’s listen to rock.” He offered me one of his airpods and I just stood there, confused about everything, his actions to begin with*. I was a stranger to him, he was a stranger to me*, so why?

Why did I accept it?

There was a little distance between us but none of the passers seemed to notice our existence outside that old convenience store whose owner always nagged about how I spend so little and cry so much. It seemed like we were parted from everyone, just me, the boy and the music flowing from his phone.

It was a Japanese song, that I could tell. From a band i guess, because there were at least two vocalists and I doubted the instrumental part was also done by them. “Sorrows” and “lonely” were the only words I could recognize. The song started really...enthusiastically. It made you want to dance but contradictory to that, you could tell the song held a sad message and then the guitar break... It was screaming in sorrow. My heart started racing faster, there was something in their voices too, they blended so well.

And then it ended, in the same way that it started. It seemed as if they were able to express a part of their pain in the most melodic way and then go back to having a silent burdened heart.

It was a good song. A really good one.

“So?” he said and then I realized that I had totally forgotten about him and his weird way of recommending songs.

“Good” was all I could say as I started feeling conscious about this absurd situation. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. You seemed like you needed a distraction.” that smile again, warmer this time. I wasn’t expecting that, not these words, nor that smile.

“Ah, right! Charity work to sad lonely girls.” i whispered and removed the airpod, frowning. Was he trying to take advantage of me?

“My name is Wonwoo. Everyone calls me Wonu.”

“And?”

“And let’s be friends.” What a weirdo. I thought, but still nodded at him and by the end of that day I had made my first friend, ever. And everything that happened afterwards, happened because of him.

////

What if my life was a book?

Who am I lying to, a life this uneventful is not even worth living let alone writing (and publishing). But still, let’s assume that I am not April and that my life is not a straight line.

Actually this brings back some memories. There was this girl in my class during elementary school, called “Eleni”. Everyone used to ask her whether the name started with a “h” or not, like “Helen”, totally igoring the “i” in the end. But Eleni would always answer with a grace rare for a child, saying “No, just Eleni. E-L-E-N-I. I am half greek and Eleni means sunshine.” And then put on her perfect innocent smile, living up to her name. Kids used to love Eleni and she was the center of everyone’s attention. Girls wanted to be best friends with her and boys used to say some lame jokes just to get her attention and I would always watch them from afar and wonder; Why wasn’t I full of life and beautiful like the month i was born in and even named after, like April is supposed to be?

I just wasn’t born to be the main character. Even my life seemed to treat me like a side one.

I told this to Wonwoo but he gave me one of these here-you-go again looks and continued to fix the books based on their heights.

After that weird interaction outside the grocery store, we exchanged our phone numbers and started texting each other song suggestions, which was something unusual but at the same time, entertaining. It was fun talking to him and easy, it still is.

That’s basically how I ended up here, giving him company while he does his job as a part time employee at the only library in our town. We know a little about each other but I guess that’s the best part of it. I am scared of words, they tend to lay me down and I have never been a fan of big knowledge so this: him, me and the quietness of the library is enough.

Or so I thought.

"Is she still like that though? He broke the silence between us but my mind had already drifted away.

"Who?" I asked.

Wonwoo fixed the book he was holding and smiled at me, more like a smirk because I could tell that he was hiding something.

He did not go to get another book.

"Eleni."

"Oh, her." I thought we were already over that topic."I don't know. I haven't seen her since then."

"Uhmm.” He was watching me thoughtfully through the little free spaces left on the bookshelf and I was sure that his brain was processing something that I most probably would not like.

"Cmon, tell me." I insisted and sat up from the old vintage chair I had been resting on. The library wasn’t that big but not that small either. It contained large and tall book shelves that took most of the space, some rounded tables and overused chairs. It was simple, the smell of old books was everywhere.

"Nevermind."

"Wonwoo, tell me." we were standing in front of each other now, our backs touching the wooden furnitures behind. I was trying to look serious and threatening but my expression was failing me.

"I think April fits you perfectly."

next: chapter 2

[pjsk-headcanons]

when I saw the Rui's line in Chigau!!! about listening to punk rock, I couldn't help but think that he would listen to rock/metal music.

Like he had his phase in the middle school and when he digs down about these genre he was like: "that's something what's truly match my mood. I'll listen to it more often" and that's how he started his story with this kind of music.

I feel like he would be a l/n fan when Tsukasa says that Saki is a part of them and they make that kind of music. and gosh, you can try to prove me otherwise but I think he would listen to SOAD on repeat:

that's all I wanted to say 🔥

(if you have some songs on your mind which would fit this, please, let me know about them. i don't have anything to listen to 😭)

.

[dejablonde]

So I had to write a personal narrative for composition class. I wrote about post-ritual depression leading to a career change, and I thought ghumblr might enjoy. It's only 763 words (after padding it out with some extra academic phrasing) but I don't want to clog your feeds too much so it's below the cut.

"Have you ever like something so much that it rewired your brain?"

            Have you ever liked something so much that it rewired your brain? I can’t pinpoint exactly when I first heard the band called “Ghost,” but it was most likely sometime in 2022. I think the first video (from whichever of the dozen algorithms we get our content from today) pushed to my feed was their performance on Jimmy Kimmel, where they played their song Call Me Little Sunshine. I was taken aback by their theatrical look and sound. I listened to a few more songs, became a casual listener, and even bought their latest album when I came across it at Josey Records. What I can pinpoint, however, is the day I turned feral: April 9, 2023, Easter Sunday.

            Being only a casual listener still, I was curious as to what was going on when I saw that Ghost was trending on Tumblr. As I scrolled through the tag, it became more and more clear that, not only had they had dropped new music, but a new music video to match, almost entirely without warning: a cover of Phil Collins’ Jesus He Knows Me. Of course, I had to listen. From the driving intro into the first verse, to the poppy chorus, to the lyrics addressing hypocrisy from the church and its leaders, it was almost like twenty-eight years of religious trauma were healed in four minutes and five seconds, as if it were that easy. I wasn’t cured, but they certainly made a dent. I listened to it on repeat and branched into the rest of their discography.  After two weeks, I finally caved and bought myself a pit ticket to their upcoming Dallas tour date.

            When the day finally came, five months later, I could barely contain myself. I felt if I could leap hard enough, I would jump right out of my skin. I had taken advantage of the fact that I had the previous day off from work and pretended that I was taking a small trip for Labor Day. This allowed me the day off for the concert. My employers already think I’m strange enough; I didn’t see any need to make it worse by asking for time off to line up for a concert by a Satanic rock band hours early on a Tuesday. Despite the 103-degree weather that day, I made it to the general admission line around noon. I chatted with my new line buddies over the next several hours about the band, how we got into them, and a little bit about our lives in general over the water that the venue security provided. For the first time in a while, I was surrounded by people like me.

            They say that concerts can be a religious experience. I’m not sure I agree, but they’re not exactly wrong. It really is overwhelming, or at least can be. Many aspects are similar, if not the same. Between the community and camaraderie with your fellow “congregants” and the feeling of the music all the way down to your bones, there’s certainly something that happens internally. This concert (or ritual, as Ghost fans lovingly call them) was no exception. After all, when you’re a stone’s throw away from your obsession, bathed in light and confetti, you can’t help but feel a little changed.

            Post-concert depression is a very real and powerful force. It’s even stronger when you come back to work after finally feeling happy and rested only to be met with snideness not even fifteen minutes into the day. I was already dealing with years of declining morale. I wanted to be happy again, like I was the night before. I started looking at job postings immediately. I nearly got one in the same field but interviewed poorly. Eventually, I decided to make up for lost time and try to make a move into what my high-school-aged-self wanted. Or at least something close. Unfortunately, even though apprenticeship-type situations are common in the music industry, it’s very hard to break in without any kind of provable experience. I looked into some recording technology schools but didn’t really feel the need to go into debt on a loan for them. I was about to lose hope, but then I had a lightbulb moment and found that Dallas College has a program for Recording Technology. My application and registration were late in the game, but I was able to squeeze in before the start of this semester. Now, I’m finally doing something I want to do, and it’s all thanks to a funky little Swede in black and white makeup.

[totesnothere04]

Day to Day Norm Pt.7

Norm x F!Quaritch!Reader

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fanart, screenshots, or gifs used with my stories.

Warnings: Angsty, shitty songcord written by yours truly (pls don't come at me about it I know it's not good😭)

Spoken in Na'vi

Part 6 Part 8

The early part of the morning had just started but Norm and Jake were anything but happy about the morning. This morning they prepare your body for burial later in the day. While your avatar would be buried close to Tsu'tey's, your human body would be buried at Hell's Gate along with your dad and all of the people who defected with him. Neytiri walked into the kelku where they were preparing your body and she knelt next to your head. She took out the braids from the battle and redid them in a more traditionally elegant manner. She took the song cord she had helped you piece together before the destruction of Hometree and handed it to Norm.

"I will teach you what each part means, the song it creates, so that you may remember her by her accomplishments." Neytiri tells Norm, who ducks his head sadly. His ears drooped back as he nodded.

"Thank you, Neytiri." Norm says and she gives him a small smile.

"We're here for you anytime you need us." Jake tells Norm, who chuckles lightly.

"If I'm correct... You two have something a bit more important to think about." Norm says gesturing toward Neytiri's stomach. The couple looks away from him bashfully. Not because of the events that led to the pregnancy or newly mated bliss, but because they were still sitting next to your body. The one who was supposed to bare his children. The three continue to work on cleaning your body and Neytiri starts humming. Jake's ears perk up and he listens to her as she sings.

"What are you singing?" Jake asks her and she casts a look at your songcord. He takes hold of her hand gently. "Why don't you sing it for us?" She holds her hand out for Norm to return the songcord to her and he does so. Norm as your mate and Jake as your brother return to their duty as Neytiri starts humming a base melody.

"Ma Eywa has given me freedom from my first life." She sang as she ran her finger over the first bead, which Jake recognized as a bioluminescent rock he had given to you when you were accepted into the Omatikaya to train with them. "For this, I give my thanks. We live among the people as one of them. For this, I give my thanks." Neytiri continued to sing as she ran her fingers over smaller wooden beads. The next bead seemed to be handmade since it was mostly yellow, with red dropped in the middle of it. "Ma Eywa has given me a brother, ma Jake." Jake's ears perk forward at that verse since it spoke of him as your family. The chorus repeated and Jake and Norm were both watching her fingers run over the beads. The next was a tuft of hair held together by a small strip of leather. "In coming here I was given a mother. So smart and so strong and beautiful, ma Grace." Neytiri's voice started to waver but she continued determined to finish. "He came to his mind and Sees us. He came back to me, ma sempul, Miles." Jake's ears dip back thinking of how beautiful your songcord is, but how tragic it is when he thinks about those who have been mentioned. The next larger bead was blue with a lighter brown circle on one side. "Ma Eywa, brought ma tsmukan, Miles. The sweet younger brother who will be strong like our father." Her finger drifts over the next noticeable bead which had been carved and painted blue and green. "By Eywa's grace, ma tsmuke(sister), Neytiri. She Sees us for who we are, not where we come from." The song continued with how you had passed your iknimaya and been fully accepted as one of the people. She continues down the cord and smiles at the second to last larger bead. "She gifted me him, my savior. The man I will love for all eternity, ma Norm." She sings and continues down the line. The last bead was where she seemed to freeze for a moment and took a deep breath. The bead was a small rough rock that Neytiri knew the meaning of. She knew because the two of you had added these beads together and she had a matching one on her songcord. "Ma Norm and I, we welcome a new life. It grows inside me right now. A welcome addition to my family." Neytiri closed out the song cord and Norm cast his eyes down to your body.

"Neytiri... Was she pregnant?" Jake asked the question that was swirling in Norm's head.

"She was." Neytiri whispered and Jake felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. Norm was silent as he looked over your figure, trying to process this information.

"Why didn't she stay out of the war if she knew?" Norm asked Neytiri after he finally found his voice.

"As High Warrior, it was her place to fight beside our Olo'eyktan to free our people." Neytiri told him.

"But how would she have known it had only been a few days since we mated and... Wouldn't that have been too early to tell?" Norm finally asks her.

"No. My mother knew of us both being with child within a couple of days." Neytiri told him and the sob he had been holding in finally clawed its way out of his throat. Jake hopped over your body and held Norm close to him.

"I'm so sorry Norm. If I would've known I could've tried to get her to stay behind with Mo'at." Jake says but it does little to console him. Neytiri continues with her duties of dressing you. She ensures your chest piece and tweng fit your role as High Warrior and drapes the headpiece she had made for you on your head.

"Ma Jake... She is ready." Neytiri says and Jake moves to pick you up but Norm stops him.

"I can do it." Norm tells him as he picks up your body and carries you to where you'll be buried. Norm passes a small family of three consisting of a young girl, a small boy, and their father. The little boy reaches out and grabs the hand that hanging from your body.

"Setxä." The boys' father reaches and removes his hand from yours.

"But that is her!" The boy says and his father nods.

"I know Setxä. I know, but she is with Eywa now." The Na'vi man pulls his son into his arms and away from your unmoving figure. Norm set you down in your final resting place, and he rolled your prosthetic pinky in his hand. He could remember that day like it was yesterday.

-Flashback-

Jake was still in his link pod, Trudy was walking around with Grace outside, and that left you and Norm by yourselves. The two of you were tangled up under the blankets in his bunk. You had long since put on your underwear and one of Norm's t-shirts which were large on you, while he wore his boxers and nothing else.

"I can't wait." You tell him and he chuckles.

"I can't wait either. Everything you and Jake told me about it I can't help but want to experience it too." Norm says and you snuggle into his chest.

"And I'm gonna be right there with you. Every step of the way." You say and he stick out his pinky.

"Pinky promise?" He says jokingly but you take that as a challenge of humor. So you remove your fake pinky and hand it to him.

"I pinky promise." You whisper to him and he outright laughs at the joke.

-Flashback Over-

"You kept your promise." Norm says quietly as he leans forward and presses a light kiss to your forehead. "I love you (Y/n)." He says and steps up next to Jake who kneels next to your grave with an Atorkirina in hand. He had done this many times today already but this one felt heavier. Far more difficult for him to deliver than the others. He was finally able to let go of the Atokirina and it danced around your torso and it settled in your hands.

13 Years Later

"Norm, can I talk to you for a moment?" Norm turned toward Max and sent his friend a tired smile. He had been spending alot of time in his avatar but he didn't stop taking care of Miles, though the boy prefers Spider these days. Matter of fact that's who Max was having to drag him away from. The two men walked away from the group of kids to a silent corner.

"What can I do for you Max?" Norm asks and Max quickly turns and pulls Norm into his private lab. Norm gapes at the room and all of the equipment inside it, especially the growth tube with an Avatar inside of it.

"I'm sure you recognize most of this tech." Max says and Norm nods.

"Yeah, but why do you have it? And who is this for?" Norm asks and Max scratches the back of his head.

"That's my avatar. I needed to make sure it worked before I used it for the purpose it was meant for. Before you and Jake were stationed on Pandora, (Y/n) was able to trick Selfridge into buying all of this." Max says but he stops next to a box that had been open for a long time. "Except this. She saved five of her paychecks to buy this." Max opens the lid of the box and Norm peers inside and his eyes go wide.

"Is this what I think it is?" Norm asks him and Max nods. "But why did she want all of this?"

"Simple. For Spider." Max tells his friend and Norm runs a hand over the growth pod and the transfer device in his hand. "She planned to run the moment she was able to separate her consciousness from her human body to her avatar."

"What changed her mind?" Norm looked Max in the eye, and the shorter man fidgeted as he sat down.

"Spider was born then she met you. Suddenly she had more that she cared about at base than her deep desire to learn in the environment. Then everything happened and she got what she wanted." Max said and Norm gulped down the lump in his throat. "Since you're his caretaker I wanted to know what you thought about me carrying out (Y/n)'s wishes."

"You have my permission. It's what she wanted and it'll make it easier for him." Norm sniffs once and squats to leave the building closing the door behind him.

Meanwhile

Spider sprinted behind Lo'ak and Kiri watching as they raced toward the lab. Kiri was going to visit her mom, and Spider and Lo'ak were going to support her. The moment they were indoors the two Na'vi put on masks and Spider took off his. Kiri went to say hello to her mother while Lo'ak finally took the time to look over all the pictures on the walls. There were hundreds scattered from desktops to the walls and he had never stopped to look at the before. Spider followed behind him finding his sudden curiosity odd. There were four prominent figures in the majority of them. They weren't always together but they were near eachother often. Jake, Grace, Norm, and you doing various things. In one you and Grace are sitting at her desk at Hell's Gate while she teaches you. You had only arrived a few weeks before the picture being taken. The next you held a bow in your hand an annoyed Jake running behind you. Neytiri in the background laughing at the two of your stupidity. The next Grace was hugging Jake's shoulders with a kind smile on her face and Jake smiling as well.

"It is always so weird to see my father not as a Na'vi man." Lo'ak finally confesses and Spider huffs a laugh.

"Oh my gosh. Look at Norm in this one." Spider points to one hanging higher up on the wall. Lo'ak shifts his gaze to it and frowns when he sees it.

"Bro... He looked so happy." Lo'ak says and Spider is confused why until the picture is lowered for him to look at. Norm was with his back against the wall on the bottom bunk of a mobile unit. In his lap, you slept with your arms wrapped around his torso and your head rested on his chest. Norm had his head laid on top of yours and he had a content smile on his face and looked like he might fall asleep himself.

"Yeah, he did look happy there." Spider says sadly but his eyes remained glued to you.

"I think you'd like this one Spider." Kiri had joined them and she took the picture off the side of the fridge and handed it to him. You were in the medical wing holding a small baby boy in your arms. Your dad was holding you as you continued to stare at the boy you held, and your dad couldn't stop staring at both of you. His children.

"Max told me that was the day you were born." Kiri tells him and Spider inhales sharply to hide the stutter of his breathing.

"Hey Spider I want to make sure you don't have any developing allergies. I'm going to draw some blood if that's alright with you?" Max asks him and Spider nods and follows him to a sterile area. Max draws some of his blood and actually tests some of it for any health anomalies.

"How am I looking Max?" Spider asks him and Max smiles warmly at Spider.

"Perfectly healthy." Max says and Spider fist-bumps the air.

"Hey Max. You spent the most time with them. What were they like?" Spider asks and Max nearly drops the vile of blood in his hands. He carefully sets it down and turns to Spider.

"Both Quaritch and (Y/n) were so stubborn and headstrong. At first I thought they were opposites, but I was so wrong. Closer to the war Quaritch showed exactly where (Y/n) got all of her personality traits. Honorable, protective, caring, and selfless. You remind me of them alot." Max tells Spider who tucks his legs closer to his chest.

"I wish I could remember them." Spider said and Max clasped Spider's shoulder.

"They would've been proud of you." Max says and Spider sighs.

"Were either of them funny?" Spider asks and Max starts to answer but moves over to his monitor instead.

"Maybe some of their video logs can answer that better than I can." Max says and moves out of the way for Spider to watch the screen. You were sitting infront of the camera talking about observations you were making on a plant. The sound of fast-approaching wheels catches Spider's attention and Jake comes into view of the camera.

"What the fuck is that?" Jake asks and you look up from the microscope and roll your eyes.

"Panopyra or as the Na'vi call them tawtsngal, which means Sky Cup. They use the liquid in them for a nutritious and healing drink." You tell Jake who looks in the microscope.

"I still have no idea about plant life here." Jake says and you smack the side of his head lightly.

"Skxawng. Don't hurt your head trying to learn." You laugh and Jake turns to you displeased.

"You and Neytiri will cause more damage to my head than me learning." Jake says and you scoff. Jake retaliated by dragging you out of your chair and into his lap as he attacked your sides. You thrash in his hold for a bit until you're able to escape as Norm comes into the room. It surprises Spider how well Norm is able to stay standing when you jump up and attach yourself to Norms back.

"Protect me! Jake is finally taking his revenge for us forcing him to use that lump that's three feet above his ass!" You say dramatically and Norm shakes his head chuckling.

"Children. I live with children." Norm says and you look between Jake and Norm. You then smack the side of his face and jump off of him and take off to hide from them.

"A menace, Norm. You're dating a menace." Jake says and Norm takes notice of the camera that's still on and turns it off. Spider laughed for a good chunk of the time that the video was playing.

Nearly two years later the clan had to relocate after Hometree was destroyed again, and a new war had begun.

A Year Later

"She's waking up now." A voice said but you didn't recognize who it belonged to.

"Can you hear me, Corporal?" Someone else asks. You sit up and shoo them away from you.

"Where's my dad?" You ask them and they motion for someone off to the side to come forward. Instead of your dad a Na'vi man comes toward you and since you don't recognize him you panic.

"Baby girl. Deep breaths it's me. They thought it would be a good idea for you to wake up to them since you spent some time as a POW with the Na'vi." Your Dad says and he casts a sideways glance at the scientists and you catch onto what he saying.

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it, but I need my dad." You said as you wrapped your arms around your dad and he returns the hug. He cradles the back of your head as he plants a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Let's get you dressed." He says and hands you a stack of clothing. You put on most of the clothing but opt to throw your shoes to the side. You follow your father to a locker room where everyone else was waiting.

"Ah. Our guide has finally arrived!" Simmens exclaimed when you walked into the room.

"Simmens. Always a pleasure." You say and he walks right up next to you and wraps an arm over your shoulders.

"We were so worried when you were kept as a POW (prisoner of war). I was relieved we had you do your soul drive two weeks early. We'll need someone with expertise in Pandoran flora and fauna." Simmens says and you sigh.

"I'm not an expert. I never even got to graduate college." You tell him and he shook his head.

"Nonsense. You know plenty that we don't know. Ain't that right everyone?" Simmens asks everyone in the room and most nod and hum in agreement. You slip out of Simmens grasp and sit behind Lyle and Mansk. You plopped your flat hand onto Lyle's head with an audible 'plep' and you giggled.

"Damn Wainfleet. Still couldn't get hair even when in a Na'vi body." You joke and he shakes his head. He turns and playfully hisses at you and you return the favor. His eyes go wide as he stares at your mouth and you get confused.

"Uh, Colonel. You two share a gene." Lyle says and you become even more confused. Your dad turns around to look at the two of you. "Open your mouth, (Y/nn)." Lyle says and you open your mouth and your dad smiles wide.

"Would you look at that. She's got my smile." Your Dad says and you notice his three canines. You run your tongue over your canines and give a toothy smile.

"Extra intimidation factor." You say and your dad chuckles as he throws his arm around your shoulders and you lean into his side.

Later on, as you were all getting ready to depart to go down to Pandora, you, Lyle, and Mansk were joking around with each other.

"Simmens has won the universe's most stubborn asshole." Mansk says quietly.

"Yeah. Still has a giant boner for you even after dying and coming back to life." Lyle says and you you laugh with your mouth closed.

"You guys are mean but not wrong. I think he's a huge creep. I mean he met me when I was a literal 16-year-old." You tell them and Lyle cringes.

"What about lover boy (Y/n)?" Lyle asks you and you look away from them.

"I want to find them again. I love Norm so much and he's still out there... I can feel it." You say and Mansk pats Lyle on the back. "Sorry Lyle but you're like a cool older brother."

"Ain't gotta apologize. You love who you love." He says and you frown. "I mean it. I'd rather keep you as a friend if I can't have you as my girl." He smiles and nudges your chin with his knuckles. You boarded the shuttle between Lyle and your dad and huffed in annoyance at having to wear a mask inside. You tuck your braids behind your ear and lean your head on your dad's arm. When the shuttle lands and you start to walk down the ramp your dad turns to your group.

"Masks off!" He calls out and you nearly tear it off of your face. You scowl when your bare feet touch the pavement and start wishing to grant death to the people who did all of this. Killed off the natural life just to place cold dead material in its place. You prance along behind your dad and Lyle as they lead the group into Bridgehead City. Big ugly concrete buildings that you would have been elated to never see again when you came out here. Your dad and Simmens get called over by some horrid-looking woman for a chat. Your dad motions to Lyle for him to stay near you and he does so along with Ja and Mansk. The group was led to an area that was made for the recoms and everyone ended up sitting around and waiting. Until your dad and Simmens came in and briefed everyone on our mission. Lyle had his arm slung over your shoulders to ground you and remind you to keep calm until later. It was an unspoken thing between everyone in your dad's squad. Everyone could remember everything up until their death. Everyone was led to an armory to grab guns and ammo and anything else they might need. When you got there you found the only weapon that interested you, which was a compact bow and its arrows and a few knives just in case.

After everyone was armed you went back outside heading straight for a couple of ships. You boarded a ship with your dad's squad and thanked Eywa you didn't have to be near Simmens. The moment the ships landed one of Simmens men tried to touch a bright pink flower. You smacked his hand away and glared at him.

"Don't touch that or you'll be so horny for the next 48 hours that you'll have to be isolated." You tell him and he backs away from the plant. You quickly and quietly scale a large fallen tree as everyone else travels on the ground. Their large boots leaving tracks through the mossy and grassy ground. You continue to scout from above making as little sound as possible while you all made your way through the old battlefield. You spot the familiar shack up ahead and press your neck com.

"Damaged mobile unit up ahead." You tell them and your dad moves some of the foliage aside.

"We see it. Stay up high and hidden. We'll need someone to give us an advantage if we get ambushed." Simmens says.

"This is a battlefield. To them, it would mostly be off-limits. Seen as a war grave in a way." You tell him and you see him wave his hand around to dismiss what you said. You scoff and move to a different tree while they all go to the shack. Mansk and Lyle continuously cast glances your way to see if you're signaling them. Their sunglasses were able to pick up on the red light of your laser pointer. You look out over the foliage and feel yourself smile. Even after all of the fighting and explosions life would regrow. You hear muffled speaking and look under the tree you're in and see a group of kids. They were all watching your group hidden behind some plants. You signal Mansk since he was looking in your direction and he nudges Lyle.

Your group starts a pincer maneuver while the kids start to leave. You follow the from above and when Mansk jumps out and grabs the youngest Lyle takes hold of the girl. Both the Na'vi and human boys had their bows drawn and aimed at your dad's squad. Your dad joins the group and shows them a picture of Jake and you shake your head. The Na'vi are honorable and would never sell out Toruk Makto. You decide to put in your two cents and jump down from the tree you're in. Your feet hit the ground silently and you approach the group.

"Calm down everyone. They're just kids." You say and your dad looks at you. "Colonel... They're just kids." You tell him and he nods once and puts away the picture. You stop infront of the only Na'vi boy and take in his features. Some of his features seemed... familiar.

"You're supposed to be dead." The human boy says quickly and you turn to him only to find he's looking at your dad.

"Yeah? What's it to you?" Your Dad asks him and your eyes widen at the familiar golden brown eyes. "What's your name?"

"Spider... Soccorro." He says and your hand involuntarily flies to your mouth. The Na'vi boy had been studying you the entire time. Trying to place where he had seen you before, I'd he even had. Then his eyes fly wide open and he turns to Spider with a shocked expression.

"Spider... It's your sister!" The boy says and Spider finally looks at you and his face pales and falls. You hear approaching footsteps and you look over your dad's group and they all nod for secrecy.

"Ah, you got us a catch huh?" You hear Simmens say and you cringe. Trying to work out a good plan to get everyone out of this alive and hopefully unscathed.

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[mooseyspooky]

A mindless ramble about Maudlin Street for @wolfstrong

So 'Late Night, Maudlin Street' is the sixth song on Moz' first solo album Viva Hate, an album Moz was forced to write contractually by the record label. An album that had to credit Johnny even though he didn't write anything on it - due to stipulations in the contract.

Maudlin Street is the last song on Side One of the vinyl. Right before it comes 'Angel, Angel, Down We Go Together,' which refers to the film Angel, Angel Down We Go from 1969. The plot of which is listed on Wikipedia as: "The overweight, emotionally troubled daughter of an affluent but brittle Hollywood couple becomes involved with a charismatic rock singer and his friends. The singer proceeds to seduce and manipulate her entire family." I find that incredibly interesting since, as we all know, Moz did actually admit to writing Angel, Angel about Johnny.

And I don't think it's possible to listen to Late Night, Maudlin Street without Angel, Angel. I firmly believe these two songs are a conversation - where Angel, Angel is Johnny directly speaking to Moz. Whether this was a real conversation that happened after the break up or an imagined one, I don't know.

The reason I'm so personally set on this with no facts to back it up is because in Angel, Angel, Johnny says: "Don't take your life tonight." And in Maudlin Street, it feels like we hear the other side of the conversation from Moz: "I took strange pills, but I never meant to hurt you." I added this to the original post with all the songs, but it's important to repeat it here.

Another important thing to remember is that this song was written maybe 2 to 3 months after Johnny left in June 1987, maybe around October or November 1987 (hence 'winter coming, winter push on'). This would have been an incredibly tough time for Moz, and there's been rumors talked about on Moz Solo that say he actually did attempt to take his own life around this time, though these rumors are not verified and only reported by a second or thirdhand source.

Some parts of Angel, Angel may be Moz speaking to Johnny ("I will be here, believe me"), but I think the central refrain is definitely Johnny speaking to him.

Maudlin Street itself is an interesting mix of things both real and imagined. There are book quotes (Elizabeth Smart, By the Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept: 'Inspector? Do you not believe in love?'), movie like imagery, and childhood experiences like the 1972 miners strike that led to power cuts (Mozzipedia page 272, Simon Goddard): 'don't leave your torch behind, 1972, you know.' Then a massive amount of the song was rewritten for a handful of live performances from 2002, and oftentimes Moz sings songs live how he truly wants them to be heard.

We also, of course, have parts of the 'conversation' Moz is having with Johnny (again, it could be an imagined conversation. It might not have been one that actually happened): 'I sleep with a picture of you by the bed,' 'truly I do love you,' 'we crept through a park,' 'but you without clothes...'

Many of the lines echo sentiments in other Johnny songs. In 'You Must Please Remember': 'you, too beautiful. I can't look.' Then in 'Stretch Out and Wait' there's icy cold hands leading the way (you without clothes). 'Suedehead' refers to Moz' diary being in his room - and oftentimes Moz glues in images or draws portraits when he's writing as we saw in the Robert Mackie letters, thus 'a picture of you by the bed' -> 'So many illustrations.'

And of course: 'I could list the detail of everything you ever wore or said, or how you stood that day.' Passionsjustlikemine notes Moz changed this to 'how you stood on the day' in the few live performances there were. This is undoubtedly in reference to the day they both met in 1982 - and, interestingly enough, Johnny listed exactly what they were both wearing in Set the Boy Free in 2016. Which I find so fascinating.

Mozzipedia also mentions this quote from Sandie Shaw on page 218: "Shaw remembers first hearing the track during the making of the album when Morrissey turned and caught her eye 'with such a pained expression...I cried, he cried. I sensed his fear and I felt so frightened for him.'"

All of this to say, basically, I feel like these two songs together combine to make a longer narrative. Where Johnny is trying to help Moz not fall apart and Moz is lost or maybe even trapped in his own memories - because the pain of reality is too overwhelming ('every hag/slag waving me on', 'i never stole a happy hour around here'). And so memories of childhood, of driving in the van, of creeping through the park are all preferable to the actual conversation they're meant to be having.