#only thing better would have been getting them to do karaoke to ABBA but there's still time in s4 for that

[destinyandcoins]

i’m aware the reception of TUA s3 was mixed and i’m not here to talk about any of that

what i am here to voice is my absolute BETRAYAL that klaus and five did karaoke to (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life and we DIDN’T get klaus bodily throwing himself at someone to do the dirty dancing lift. and i for one will never forgive them that missed opportunity no matter how many other great moments we did get in s3

[special-bc-ur-part-of-it]

The Name of the Game

So basically, I was listening to ABBA while driving one day and The Name of the Game came on and I got ~inspired~ and started writing this Klaine fic (with badboy!Blaine) in which they're friends with benefits and have both caught feelings for each other but they're also idiots and haven't admitted it yet

Anyways, yeah, here's that, hope it's not literally the worst thing you've ever read or whatever:

also on ao3!

The only reason Blaine's at this stupid glee club party at Rachel Berry's house is because Puck told him there would be alcohol. Which thankfully there is because Blaine's not so sure he can sit through this all sober. He'd rather not be spending his night listening to Rachel Berry hog a karaoke machine and ruin some perfectly good songs for him and have to watch all the glee couples make out and dry hump seven thousand times during the night. But here he was with nothing else better to do. At least there was alcohol. And Kurt.

The only reason he even joined this stupid glee club in the first place is because the school had forced him into joining a club so he wouldn't get kicked out of yet another school and glee club had seemed slightly less terrible than others. That , and glee club had Kurt Hummel. Fashionable, snarky, sometimes aloof Kurt Hummel. The boy who held his head high through any obstacle and who couldn't help but pull focus when he walked into a room. Kurt Hummel, who was destined for things much bigger and much more fabulous than Middle-of-Shitsville Lima, Ohio. The boy who caught Blaine's eye the moment he saw him the first day he was at this damn school and who hadn't left his mind since. 

Honestly, at first he just thought Kurt was hot. A bit of a bitch, but hot. And Blaine had wanted in his incredibly tight pants. So he'd pursued him. He'd flirted with him constantly. Occasionally it was a little too risque for school property. Eventually Kurt started flirting back. Then Blaine ended up getting stuck in glee club. More flirting. But also just talking sometimes. Eventually he and Kurt had formed a rather unlikely friendship. A rather unlikely friendship that eventually developed into one with benefits. And that was how they'd existed with each other for the past couple months. They'd talk, they'd flirt, they'd hang out sometimes, they'd fuck. They didn't date or do any couple-y shit cuz they weren't a couple, just friends with benefits. That was all they were and all Blaine needed them to be. 

Except that it really wasn't. Kurt was different from any other guys he'd been with. Kurt actually seemed to care about him. Actually wanted to talk with him after most nights. Seemed to want him for at least a little more than just a quick fuck. Seemed to not mind being his friend too much at least. Sometimes seemed like he wanted them to be more than what they were. But maybe that was just Blaine making shit up. 

Blaine knows that Kurt wants romance. And that Kurt deserves some epic romantic love story. And he can't give him that-- he doesn't do romance. He doesn't do the whole falling in love thing. He's a bad boy who fucks around, no feelings involved, and doesn't let his heart want more. Except when he's with Kurt. 

Fuck, he shouldn't be getting almost sentimental like this at a party full of the sappiest people on the planet. What he should be doing is getting so wasted that he doesn't remember any of this emotional bullshit he's thinking in the morning. So that's what he sets out to do until his plan is quickly dashed by Kurt Hummel himself. 

"Hey, sunshine," Kurt teases, plopping down on the couch next to him. 

"Hey" is all Blaine utters in response, short and admittedly ruder than it should have sounded. 

"Having fun brooding over here all by yourself?" 

"Yup." 

"Something got you down?" 

"Are you seeing all of them?" Blaine starts, referring to the glee club couples. "It's sickening." 

"While I'll admit that this is a little...intense, I still don't get what it is you have against love." 

"I've told you, it's not for me. I'm a badass, I don't do romance." 

"I think you could if you wanted to…" 

"Nope. Not my thing." 

"Boo. But suit yourself I guess." 

"I will." 

"Well, someone's exceptionally moody tonight. Seriously, what's going on with you?" 

"None of your business." 

"Actually, I think that as your b-- um, as your friend, it is my business. So what's up?" 

"Look, I'm just not in the mood to be here right now, okay?" 

"Oh. Okay… sorry. Anything I can do to make your night here a little better?" 

"Nope." 

"I can't convince you to come sing or anything?" 

"Not tonight." 

"Bummer. It would be a lot more fun if my favorite duet partner would come sing just one song with me…" 

"Sounds like you should go ask your favorite duet partner then." 

Kurt lets out a sigh, clearly getting frustrated with him. "Fine. Be stubborn then." 

"Okay, I will." 

Kurt huffs and walks away from him, shaking his head. Blaine almost wants to tell him to come back. To agree to one song. He almost does it. Almost. 

He starts thinking he's a complete idiot for not doing that when Kurt takes the stage around 10 minutes later. Thank God someone finally managed to take the microphone away from Rachel. And he's glad that it's Kurt, too. One more ballad or cliche karaoke song might have just made him go crazy. He leans forward in his seat a little, ready for a trademark spectacular Kurt performance. Only...when the music starts, it's not Kurt's typical style. Blaine doesn't even recognize the song until Kurt starts singing.

I've seen you twice in a short time

Only a week since we started

It seems to me for every time

I'm getting more open-hearted

"The Name of the Game?" Really, he would have thought that if Kurt was going to choose ABBA, he'd have chosen something a little more...showy. It's not till the last couple lines of the next part that Blaine realizes that apparently it's not gonna be one of Kurt's usual pull-out-all-the-stops performances tonight. 

I was an impossible case

No one ever could reach me

But I think I can see in your face

There's a lot you can teach me

So I wanna know

It's right before Kurt starts the chorus that Blaine realizes Kurt's staring directly at him. Hell, making direct eye contact with him. 

What's the name of the game?

Does it mean anything to you?

What's the name of the game?

Can you feel it the way I do?

Tell me please, cause I have to know

I'm a curious child beginning to grow

Never would Blaine have thought you could feel so isolated in a room full of people. But right now he did because Kurt's eyes seemed to be piercing into his soul and Kurt was definitely singing all of this directly to him right now. 

And you make me talk

And you make me feel

And you make me show

What I'm trying to conceal

If I trust in you, would you let me down?

Would you laugh at me, if I said I care for you?

Could you feel the same way too

I wanna know

The name of the game

Shit. Is he seriously contemplating the words of an ABBA song right now? Maybe it's kinda hard not too when the guy you've been sleeping with pretty exclusively for a little while now seems to be confessing something in song to you and staring into your soul while doing it and making you question everything. His mind starts racing but he's glued to his seat and he's trying not to listen to the words anymore cuz he can feel that heat under his skin with each phrase Kurt sings but he can't let the whole room know what he's feeling (since they're definitely all staring at him) cuz that would crack his rough exterior and he can't have that right now. 

And soon enough Kurt's on the last chorus and Blaine realizes that he's stepping off the little stage and making his way across the room to him and suddenly he feels like he's forgotten how to even breathe, how to function at all, a deer in headlights frozen to the spot. And on the last "name of the game," the last words of the song, Kurt's stopped just a couple feet away from him, looking at him somewhat expectantly.

All Blaine can think to respond is a barely above audible "Can we talk?" which is an odd answer because he's usually not the one who wants to talk. Kurt nods his reply and sits next to him on the couch once again. 

"Not here," Blaine begins, throwing a look towards the dozen other pairs of eyes pretending not to watch them right now. "Outside?" 

"Okay," Kurt agrees as he follows Blaine out onto Rachel's porch. 

"So…" Kurt prompts once they're outside. Blaine holds up a finger to stop him as he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag before he even starts to talk. He can almost hear Kurt's definitely present exaggerated eye roll at his behavior. 

Blaine exhales the long drag of smoke before continuing, "So?" 

"You asked to talk...," Kurt states.

"Yup, sure did." 

"So…." 

"So what the hell was that about? 'Name of the Game?' You trying to get at something?" 

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about, you start acting like this whenever we're around other people, but when we're just together, alone, you're different, and I just can't tell where I stand with you sometimes. I honestly don't know sometimes if you like me or hate me or just tolerate me or if you're just using me or--" 

"Why does that matter so much to you?" 

"Because I… I really like you, Blaine, and I just wanna know what we are, if this means anything to you, if...if I mean anything to you."  

"Don't be ridiculous--" 

"So you mean I don't--" 

"Of course you mean something to me!" 

"Something as in…?"

"I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

"Only if it's true." 

"And if it is? Believe me, you wouldn't want to be with me anyway." 

"Why not?" 

"I've told you before, I'm not the type of guy you want." 

"And why's that?" 

"Because you deserve better than some teenage delinquent." He turns away from Kurt, not feeling like talking much anymore.

"You do realize that I like you for you and not the bad boy persona, right?" Blaine pauses. He glances over his shoulder. "I mean, I'll admit that the whole bad boy thing is kinda hot," Kurt continues, "but I like the boy underneath that persona a lot more." 

"You don't even know me." 

"Yes, I do. You can pretend that you're just a bad boy all you want, but I see a different side of you whenever we're together, and I just know that that boy I see is much more you than the bad boy 'you' is." Damn. Of course Kurt's the one person to see right through him like he's glass. Kurt's not wrong either-- he is different around him. When they're together, he's a little more open and a little less angry at the world and, in general, a little happier. He starts thinking that maybe being just with Kurt, being more than whatever they are now, wouldn't be so bad. 

But no. He can't do that to Kurt. He knows that if he tried to do the whole relationship thing, he'd just end up hurting him. He doesn't show it, but he cares too much about Kurt to hurt him. 

"No," Blaine starts, deflecting again, shaking his head, "no, you don't want me and all my issues." 

"You are such an idiot sometimes," Kurt comments. "Blaine, I care about you, and I like you for who you are, and I want to be with you, even with whatever issues you have to deal with." 

"Yeah, well, I still don't do romance or--" 

"Or relationships. I know. You know what, just….forget this. I guess I just got my hopes up that maybe this actually meant something to you, but it looks like I was wrong." Kurt turns away from him and takes a couple steps toward the door. This time Blaine's not a complete idiot. 

"Kurt, wait," he utters, catching Kurt by his wrist before he can go back inside. Kurt pauses briefly before jerking out of Blaine's grip. 

"You weren't wrong!" Blaine blurts, sounding more desperate than intended. Kurt stops, taking a few steps back towards him. 

"Please, don't play with me," Kurt nearly begs, sounding...sad? defeated? heartbroken? 

"I'm not," Blaine assures before just acting on impulse, grabbing Kurt by the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. But he's much more gentle than usual-- there is no rush, no want for something more, no purely lust-fueled taking of control, just a lot of feelings he doesn't know how else to express. He lets Kurt be the one in control, lets Kurt set the pace, lets him decide when they break to breathe, lets him wrap his arms behind his neck and pull him impossibly closer. 

And when they eventually pull apart, they're both speechless for a moment, a pregnant silence falling around them, only hearing their breathing and their heartbeats. 

"Wow," Kurt eventually breathes out, breaking the silence, "You really did mean it." Blaine merely nods in response, trying to remember what words are in the moment. 

"Why couldn't you just tell me?" Kurt continues after a pause. "Why did you have to keep up the facade with me?" 

"I was scared," Blaine finally admits after a little more silence. 

"Scared of what? It's just...me, us." 

"...Look, I have no idea how to do relationships or romance or anything like that, and I didn't want to hurt you 'cuz if we were anything more than just...what we've been doing, I would have screwed something up and I would have hurt you, and then you probably would have hated me, and then I'd lose you, and I don't think I could handle that because you really do mean a lot to me, and I know I don't really show it, but I like you and I care about you and-- and I...think I understand why you like romance so much now." 

"And I thought you didn't do romance…" 

"Well...maybe you were right. Maybe I could if I tried...but you'd probably have to teach me a lot about romance..." 

"So does this mean…" 

"Yeah. I guess it means we're like…boyfriends now or whatever." He's caught by surprise when a very smiley Kurt launches himself into his arms. But he relaxes into the embrace, holding his now boyfriend, chin resting on the other boy's shoulder. And he lets himself genuinely smile for the first time in a while, without caring if anyone else sees it, even though all the other glee club kids are definitely watching from a window at this point. He confirms his guess when he catches a glimpse of the other teens huddled around the window out of the corner of his eye.  

"You know they're all watching us, right?" he hums into Kurt's ear. Kurt pulls back from their embrace to look at him again. Then he sneaks a glance at the window. 

"Let them watch," Kurt flirts, tugging him into another deep kiss. He hears the muffled whoops from inside and deepens the kiss further, drawing out a soft moan from the back of Kurt's throat, slightly smiling into it. 

"Wanna get outta here?" Blaine suggests with a smirk once they pull apart. 

Kurt seems to contemplate it for a moment before responding, "No, not yet. You owe me a song first." 

"Ooh, I owe you a song?" 

"Mm hm. I'll let you pick…" 

"Okay. But only because I like you." 

Kurt merely smiles in response and takes his hand, leading him back inside. And for the second time that night, Blaine lets himself genuinely smile without caring who else sees it. 

[missjanjie]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Rosnali

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make. Ship: Rosnali Word Count: 2174 Rating: T

ao3 | ko-fi

Bonus: Denali's Playlist for Rosé

-

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “...you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[not-reagan]

milf: man i love forests

pairing: deforester boo seungkwan x frat boy mirror demon han jisung (side pairing reagan x rainbow)

genre: crack, strangers to friends to lovers, non-idol au

warnings: cursing, brief supernatural elements, i don’t know if this applies but all lcase, and i listened to christmas music and abba while writing this

word count: 2.7k

authors note: happy birthday @miyuuraiura !! i am so sorry about this monstrosity being your birthday gift but you asked for it so it's your fault entirely. i was gonna include some context on this story for those who are not rainbow and i but actually i don't think i will.

seungkwan did what he could to get by. he loved nature, he really did, but sometimes you have to make moral sacrifices to survive. he was a college kid strapped for cash, and when he saw a sign reading “GET RICH QUICK, INVEST IN DEFORESTATION” in the summer going into his freshmen year, he jumped at the opportunity. sure, he would have rather been a freelance singer, hired for bar-mitzvahs and children's parties, but that job market was flooded at the moment.

jisung, on the other hand, had no care for nature. actually, he didn't care for any human things, apart from “banging parties, booze, the boys™, and bitches”. he hated quite a bit about earth, the worst of all to him being college. as a demon, he had no reason to attend university, but after he was summoned in the bathroom of a frat house by the school’s power couple; rainbow and reagan, he felt obliged to follow the two around and keep them company.

for seungkwan, his main job rarely required in person work. he usually just chose plots of land to demolish, and sent plans to local managers. the only time he actually had to knock down any trees himself was during his summer break. he has a part time job of course, but it didn't provide him enough cash to survive. for someone with a job as a deforester, he truly did do what he could to save the environment. he joined his schools environmental club, becoming vice president his sophomore year because of his work with them. he kept his job a secret, not even telling his parents where the influx of cash was coming from. he kept a low profile and went through the motions of life. he didn't have much of a social life, with his small amount of friends being from the environmental club.

han jisung found joy in witnessing his professors and fellow students lose their minds over his lack of effort in class. he did the bare minimum and still passed with flying colors. most of all, it angered his seatmate in earth science, who happened to be none other than boo seungkwan. seungkwan was a hard worker in everything he did, particularly in school. he didn't get the best grades, but by no means was he the worst. averaging a steady B+, seungkwan spent most of his nights studying or working, rarely going to parties and enjoying himself only through one person karaoke rooms.

this fact upset jisung. he didn't know why, but seeing seungkwan so tired every day made him feel sad(? jisung wasn't sure what it made him feel. it was an emotion he had never experienced before. rainbow told him it meant he had a crush. to this he threw an empty soda can at them). not to mention seungkwan’s upsetting karaoke addiction, which he knew all about the danger of because of reagan, who spent most of her weekends drunk and singing. jisung didn’t know why he took such a liking to seungkwan. what he did know was that he was ecstatic to find that they would be paired together for a project. a project that required quite a bit of teamwork, and a lot of after school work sessions.

seungkwan liked to think that he didn’t hate anyone. he hated evil people, like hitler and stalin and jyp, but he didn’t really hate anyone besides the worst of the worst. that was until he experienced jisung. he wasn’t sure why jisung always talked to him when he was trying to take notes in class. he especially wasn’t sure why he was so excited to be partnered up together for the project that was worth 25% of their grade. seungkwan was less than happy to have to cooperate with jisung for an extended period of time, and he was not looking forward to letting him into his dorm room, or going anywhere near jisung’s frat house. seungkwan had no idea what he was pushed into.

they planned to meet at the cafe on campus at 5:00 pm after class. seungkwan was less than happy. jisung was thrilled. when jisung arrived seungkwan was sitting at a table drinking an americano and working on an english essay. he wasn't sure how to approach him, slowly walked closer before tapping on his shoulder. seungkwan jolted in his seat.

“jesus fuck jisung. you scared the crap out of me,” seungkwan gasped. jisung’s ears flushed as he brought his hand to the back if his neck.

“sorry,” he started, pausing for a second before starting again, “why don't we get started?”. he swung his bag down to the ground as he took a seat. seungkwan offered a small, non genuine smile before pulling out the project’s guidelines.

“let's try to finish this as quickly as possible. im pretty busy and don't have much time to fool around.” seungkwan said. jisung felt his heart drop. did seungkwan really think that little of him? granted, he always dozed off in class but he got his work done on time and in an orderly fashion. he felt his mind begin to wander. if seungkwan felt this way about him now, how would he feel when he found out that jisung was a demon. would seungkwan start to like him if he knew him better? jisung couldn't figure out why he cared so much about how seungkwan perceived him. he had never had an issue with others opinions of him before, so what made seungkwan so different? for some reason, jisung felt the need to connect with seungkwan. if not for himself, then at least to help him let loose.

after working silently on each of their portions of the projects for 3 hours, jisung finally spoke up. “do you want to maybe come to my party next month? well, it's not my party, it's for rainbow’s birthday. i know you're not one for social interaction but it would be cool to see you there. i’ll give you the details if-”

“i’d love to go,” seungkwan cut off jisung’s rambling. to be honest, he wasn't exactly sure what he was agreeing to, but he knew it would shut jisung up, and seungkwan valued his peace and quiet. part of him also just felt downright bad for the other. he seemed to be trying awfully hard to become friends with seungkwan, and he wouldn’t admit it, seungkwan had started to warm up to the boy. he really wasn’t as much of an issue as he had thought before, and was actually really respectful of seungkwan’s wishes. maybe i’ll give him a chance, seungkwan thought before going back to his work.

over the next month, jisung and seungkwan continued meeting to work on their project. seungkwan was less short with the other, and jisung was still red faced every time seungkwan decided to talk to him, which became quite frequently over the next few weeks. jisung was starting to realize that the feelings he had for seungkwan were not simply platonic, and that he didn’t just want to be friends with him. with the help of rainbow and reagan, he had come to the conclusion that he really, really liked seungkwan, and that he was going to do something about it. remembering that he had invited seungkwan to the party, he devised a plan to not only tell seungkwan about his whole “i’m actually a demon” thing, but also about his true feelings. it wouldn't be easy, but it was what he had to do.

a month later, seungkwan still wasn’t exactly sure why he had agreed to go to jisungs frat house at 9:00 pm on a saturday night. yet there he was, standing on the front porch of a large house, wondering if he should bite the bullet and walk in, or spare himself and leave right then. he didn't get a choice, however, as rainbow and reagan stepped out of the house giggling while clutching onto each other. both stopped in their tracks when they saw seungkwan. the couple and seungkwan stared at each other for a good minute before seungkwan shook himself from his trance.

“hey rainbow!” seungkwan started, “and reagan too. i know we aren’t super close, but jisung invited me and i thought i’d just drop by and wish you a happy birthday.” he passed her a birthday card filled with $50 bucks and then turned to leave. “i’ll leave you guys now. have a great birthday!” before seungkwan could get very far, however, rainbow grabbed him by the arm.

“hey, i’d love if you’d stay! at least go say hi to jisung. i’m sure he’d like to see you,” she said, silently making note to have jisung pay her back for being a great wingwoman.

“he’s probably hiding in the second floor bathroom. if you don't see him in there, just say his name three times in front of the mirror. he’ll appear.” reagan explained. seungkwan thought she was joking. how wrong he was.

following his entrance to the house, he had to refuse not one, not two, but three different people who were looking to give him bottles or cups of something which seungkwan presumed to be various types of alcohol. navigating through the house was difficult, reaching the stairs to the second floor only after running into numerous people borderline fucking on two large couches in the living room, a smoke circle taking place in what seungkwan assumed to be a dining room, and a very aggressive makeout session against a wall. once he finally reached the second floor, he had some difficulty finding the bathroom, accidentally walking in on reagan and rainbow, who had miraculously made it upstairs faster than he had.

“if you don’t stop shitting constantly i am going to break up with you! also, stop taking feet pics! it’s weird!” he heard rainbow shout.

“at least i can eat seafood! how does it make your head hurt? you’re the weakest link! that fucking seafood platter was delicious. and you know what, i’m glad i didn’t have to share it with you!” reagan responded. seungkwan quickly shut the door, not wanting to get involved in whatever drunken argument was going on there. after a bit more searching, he finally stumbled across the right room. knocking first to see if anyone was in there, he entered, and to his surprise, nobody was there. jisung was nowhere to be seen. seungkwan reviewed his options. he could a) leave the party, or b) continue to look around the packed house. but there was another option. he thought about it for a second.

“what's the harm in trying,” seungkwan thought out loud, before staring directly into the mirror.

“han jisung, han jisung, han jisung.”

nothing happened. that's what seungkwan thought, until a minute later the lights in the bathroom flickered off and the mirror began to glow. “what. the. fuck,” seungkwan managed to squeak out before falling backwards into the tub. first a leg emerged, then two arms, and finally the rest of jisung’s body.

“i feel like the genie in aladin every time i have to get into a fucking mirror,” jisung complained before seeing seungkwan toppled over. to that view, he jumped down off the counter and moved to help him up. seungkwan, aside from falling, seemed to be reacting well to the whole situation, at least in the sense that instead of freaking out he seemed to be in a state of shock. jisung took this as a good sign, and lifted the motionless body up onto the toilet seat.

“hey seungkwan, you there?” jisung waved his hand in front of seungkwan's face as he slowly came to his senses.

“what kind of twisted party trick was that?” seungkwan asked, pretty seriously. jisung just laughed.

“you summoned me from the mirror. i’m like a funny version of michael jackson except i'm a demon and not a man in the mirror.” jisung explained. seungkwan just stared. “are you ok kwan? do you want me to get you some water?”

“it was… kind of sick.” seungkwan stated. he didn't know why he wasn't scared. under any other circumstance like this one, he probably would have shit his pants. for some reason he felt comfortable around jisung. he felt warm. he felt seen. it was something he hadn't felt before. that's when he realized. he wondered why it took himself to long to figure it out. he never hated jisung. he just didn't know what to do with the fact that he made him feel special, and that he felt as though he belonged when they were together. it had hit him why he was so nervous the whole night, why he had wanted to make such a good impression, and why he was willing to embarrass himself by calling out jisungs name as opposed to just choosing to go home. it was because he loved him.

“can i tell you something?” both of the boys said at the same time. jisung giggled and seungkwan flushed red. **authors note! bonus starts here**

“you first,” seungkwan offered. he wasn't exactly sure he would be able to make it through a sentence without getting any redder than he already was.

jisung took this opportunity to finally get his true feelings out into the air, “i like you… uhh like, i like like you. i have since we first became seatmates. well, i think that's when i've liked you since. i knew whe-”

“you're rambling again,” seungkwan told him. jisung flushed a dark shade of pink. “it's a habit of yours. i think it's cute actually.” seungkwan wasn't sure where his sudden surge of confidence came from, but he was glad it came. he was standing up now, holding jisungs hands in his. jisungs heart was racing a mile a minute as he looked down at their intertwined hands and them back up, catching seungkwan looking directly at his lips. “can… can i kiss you?” seungkwan stuttered out. jisung couldn't find his words, so he opted to just nod.

when their lips connected, seungkwan could have sworn he heard fireworks. he did later find out that someone was setting off a firework in the back yard, but it was the thought that counted. their lips melted together perfectly, and seungkwan wondered why it took him so long to admit his feelings to himself. he could have been kissing jisung for a month before this.

once they finally parted, seungkwan spoke softly, “i like you too. i think that's pretty obvious now but just in case you didn't know.” jisung had the dumbest, most confused face on, and seungkwan had the brightest smile he'd ever had. seungkwan had rendered jisung speechless, for once in his life. not long after, they started kissing again, content with their emotions and their new relationship.

seungkwan was never one to believe that good things were permanent. he was overdramatic, stubborn, and hated interacting with people outside his small social circle. that was until han jisung came along. he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he could let someone else into his life.

jisung was a simple man. well, not a man, but he was simple nonetheless. he liked banging parties, booze, the boys™, and bitches. well maybe there was one more thing he liked. he knew for sure he liked boo seungkwan. maybe he loved him. maybe seungkwan even felt the same way.

-fin

**BONUS**

reagan and rainbow leaned up against the door to eavesdrop on their matchmaking work.

“holy shit!” reagan gasped.

“what is it?? tell me what happened. you're hogging up the door!” rainbow hissed.

“our boy is so grown up,” reagan pretended to cry. “put your goddamn ear up here.” rainbow felt her ear connect with the cold door just as jisung confessed his feelings.

“i like you… uhh like, i like like you. i have since we first became seatmates. well, i think that's when i've liked you since. i knew whe-” his next words were cut off on the girls side of the door as reagan squealed.

“shut your mouth! seungkwans saying something!!” rainbow said, obviously annoyed that reagan was obstructing her ability to hear the exchange.

“can… can i kiss you?” they heard seungkwan say. both looked at each other in shock.

“oh. my. god.” was all rainbow could say.

“i think we should give them some alone time,” reagan suggested as she tugged rainbow down the hall.

“i think we need some alone time for ourselves,” rainbow said as reagan pushed her into a random room and locked the door behind them.

[artificialqueens]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You (Rosnali) - Joley

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make.

(bonus: denali's playlist for rosé)

ao3 link

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “…you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[guudak]

andante, andante

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining word count: 7,522 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

“Is he ok? Namjoon, what’s he doing?” 

“He’s severely hungover,” he explains to you, propping an arm on the windowsill. His hand gestures. “This is his remedy.” 

You look out the window again, overseeing the frat’s backyard, and down below at the deck - is the person you sought. The gales shake the trees, you can hear it howl, and not to mention the downpour of rain that had you soaked to the skin through your jeans between your sprint from the bus stop to here. You look back at Namjoon, disbelieved. “What, sitting in a hot tub outside in the middle of a hale storm?”

“Erm, well, not the storm bit. That was just unfortunate. Sitting meditatively in a hot tub though, yeah. He does that a lot, moreso when he has something on his mind.” He peeps a discreet eye at you while you claim a seat on the ledge. Your arms cross, huddling your oversized cardigan over yourself as you glance back at the mop of matted black hair on the deck. Jungkook is sitting very still, laying back, eyes closed and his neck craning upwards towards the gloomy sky. A breath of air expels from your nose when you imagine how cold the rain must be. 

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head. 

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ” 

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

 hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled. 

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs. 

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother. 

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back. 

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.” 

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you. 

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh. 

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him. 

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.” 

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?” 

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.” 

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest. 

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so. 

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up. 

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed. 

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila. 

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two - 

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in. 

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!” 

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook. 

So that was that. 

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.” 

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next. 

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?” 

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature. 

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?” 

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven. 

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.” 

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks. 

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name. 

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all. 

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms. 

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” 

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell. 

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.” 

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him. 

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.” 

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

 /

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head. 

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed. 

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring. 

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion. 

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.” 

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.” 

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.” 

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.” 

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room. 

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right? 

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered. 

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him. 

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape. 

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead. 

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?” 

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed. 

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm. 

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been. 

/ 

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground. 

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.” 

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.” 

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.” 

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?” 

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously. 

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous. 

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

 /

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath. 

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place? 

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face. 

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook. 

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point. 

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again. 

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior. 

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.” 

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.  

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.” 

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you. 

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?” 

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.” 

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause. 

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear. 

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees. 

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.” 

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate. 

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you. 

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder. 

When was the last time someone looked at you like that? 

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper. 

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.” 

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing. 

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.” 

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

originally posted on ao3! thx for reading!!! <33 

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Shoutout for @perseusannabeth for requesting a wedding prompt regarding my Queen inspired fic “Somebody to Love” (you can check here Part one and Part two)

I was very inspired, so I hope it reached your expectations!! I also started to draft the next chapter for In which She Makes a Friend, so we may be getting Part Five before the year is over.

And I wish a happy belated Christmas/Holiday/Friday to y’all ❤️

Prompt: Elain and Azriel come clean about their plotting during the wedding day speech

Stupid Cupids

Everything was perfect.

The ceremony had been a private thing — Nesta was known for being a reserved person, even more now that her book was on New York’s Best Selling List for three months since its release, and Cassian preferred to leave the extravagance to the reception, which was being held at one of Rhysand’s hotels, a wedding gift from both him and Feyre.

Cassian was not going to lie, he had been tempted to thrown everything to the wind and just run away to Vegas to marry Nesta and be done with it. He had half jokingly told her that, only to receive a murderous glare from the three Archeron sisters plus Emerie, all who had been planning the wedding non stop since his proposal at the karaoke bar. He was smart to not bring it up again, even as a joke.

Then, after one year being engaged, Cassian was now Cassian Archeron, married to the one and only Nesta Archeron herself, all of their family and friends there to testify it.

The Archerons and Emerie had been Nesta’s maids of honour, while Rhysand and Azriel were Cassian’s best men. The Archerons’ father had passed away years ago, so Nesta had asked Lucien to walk her down the aisle. They had met at therapy group shortly after the Archeron patriarch had died, and had bonded over their shared messed up life — Lucien was trying to come around the fact that his father was not the man his mother had been married to, which she had finally divorced after years of abuse, having remarried with Lucien’s biological father.

They had all gone to Rhysand’s hotel for the party and by now, all were a little bit tipsy. Cassian and his brothers had done a Dancing Queen number— Cassian declaring that ABBA would have been proud of their moves — while Nesta and the girls had danced to Beyoncé’s Run the World (Girls) — which had been just as memorable.

And now it was time for the speeches. Emerie had been the first, being surprisingly followed by Azriel, who, although quite shy, had overcome it for Cassian.

“Well, here we are. Who would have thought that Nesta would finally take pity on Cassian and accept his proposal?” Azriel said with a grin.

That earned laughs from the guests and a ‘Fuck you!’ from Cassian, who was seated by Nesta’s side, his tie and blazer long discarded.

“Honestly, if I had to describe their relationship, it would be that of an enemies to lovers book plot worthy of the bride’s writing” that made Nesta laugh and blow Azriel a kiss “They had their share of hardships along the way, that’s for sure. But you won’t find a couple as in love with each other as Cassian and Nesta are”.

“Did you hear that Rhysand? ‘No couple as in love with each other as us’!” Cassian teased, making Nesta roll her eyes.

“There’s still time to annul the wedding sister- in-law!” Rhysand said back.

“However, we wouldn’t be standing here were it not for an intervention from fate. Cauldron knows how headstrong those two are” Azriel smirked “So, I would like to ask for Elain Archeron to come here and help me tell the tale of how Cassian’s proposal came to be”

The crowd murmured in confusion, the newlyweds just as lost as them.

Elain rose from her sit, and made her way to the small stage where Azriel was making his speech, receiving another microphone from the staff.

“ Thank you Azriel, for sharing the stage with me” Elain was Azriel’s counterpart in every way, all bright smiles and easiness to talk, with a pale pink dress and hair lovingly arranged with flowers, while Azriel stood by her side in all black except for his dark blue cuff links and dress shirt “Cassian is hardworking, kind, loyal, deeply generous and an excellent cook. I could not hope for a more perfect husband for my dear older sister”

Nesta smiled sweetly at her said husband, interlacing their fingers. Yes, he was everything she could have hoped for and more.

“But, he sure is as stubborn as my sister too, as Azriel has already said” Elain’s light brown eyes sparkled with mischief “Those two fools would never have talked properly after their latest quarrel had it not been for indeed Fate’s intervention, with Fate having two people working for him: me and Azriel”

“Feyre, we would like to apologise for having you take the blame and Nesta’ scolding, but it was actually Elain who told me where you girls were headed that day” Azriel said, bowing his head in apology.

“Betrayed by my own sister” Feyre sighed, trying to appear angry but failing miserably.

“I messaged Azriel to ask if he knew the reason for why my sister looked as if she wanted to commit murder,” Nesta groaned and hid her face in Cassian’ shoulder in embarrassment “ but he knew as little as me.”

“We got to the conclusion that it would be impossible to get anything out of those two buttheads, and decided to take matters in our own hands” Azriel grabbed a remote control from inside his pocket and pointed it at the projector behind him “We wanted to force those two to have a talk like grown ups, but ended up with something even better: Cassian’s own public declaration of love to Nesta”

“Oh no, you didn’t!” Cassian exclaimed, watching as the big screen showed his little singing act to Nesta at the karaoke bar.

“This video is courtesy of Rhysand” Azriel explained, failing to hide his smile.

The screen proceeded to show Cassian singing — “Why didn’t you do something like that when you proposed?” Viviane Neige said to her husband, Kalias, gazing at the screen in awe at Cassian’s romantic act — and his declaration of love, which raised ‘oohs’ and ‘awwws’ from the female guests.

“In conclusion, we would like to say that it’s thanks to no other than us that we could all be here today and enjoy such good food. A toast to the groom and to the bride!” Azriel declared, raising his glass.

“To their ever lasting happiness!!” Elain added.

All the guests joined the toast and drank their glasses, clapping loudly at Azriel’s and Elain’s speech.

“You are not mad, are you?” Cassian whispered in Nesta’s ear, afraid she’d feel betrayed due to having been made a fool.

“I got you in the end, didn’t I?” she replied, kissing their interlaced fingers “Besides, I had a proposal worthy of a Hollywood cliché”

“Oh, the things I do for love” Cassian murmured, kissing his wife “Do remind me to thank those stupid cupids later”

“As you wish husband” Nesta whispered.

After that revelation, both cupids received a very generous ‘Thank you’ basket from the newlyweds, becoming famous matchmakers among their friends.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list}

[bonvoyagenoona]

I was also there during Day 1 & 2! 🥲 And yes, definitely hoping to see them on tour soon. I'm still praying for it to happen this year. Was hoping I could fly to Seoul next month but with this Covid thing it seems difficult. 😕 Would love to say hi if we're ever at the same time/place again tho!

YOOOO! I'm Filipina too HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA All the voice lessons I did as a child, my mom definitely had me sing at EVERY chance possible. Co-workers are over for dinner? Ruru sings. A cousin from the province she hasn't seen in 20 years (& I have never met) is over, Ruru sings. Next-door neighbour just bought a new MagicSing, Ruru is there 🤣🤣🤣 My karaoke repertoire is filled with older 'karaoke classics' too, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, ABBA and of course, Regina Velasquez & Lani Misalucha. I usually start the night Whitney's I Wanna Dance with Somebody to get the people going. Only when the drinks have been drank do I bust out with the big belters 🤣 people are more generous with the applause when they're drunk 🤣🤣

My Vegas trip is getting better and better! A looot more exciting definitely! And yes, come meet us up for karaoke. I know Yoongles will serenade us with some Kim Hyun Sik for sure.

Aaahh hope you'll get to travel to Seoul sooner rather than later! And that your Vegas trip is fun and hilarious enough to tide you over until then! OMG if they do go on tour, and they play somewhere in California, I will definitely try to go see them there as well as where I live, and it would be so fun to say hi! 💜

LOL NO WAY! Hahaha as soon as karaoke came up, I wondered! Please, MagicSing?? And the BIG SONGSTRESS NAMES? I bet you have such a beautiful voice, amazing when you belt their ballads, keeping your parents and all the Titos and Titas entertained as they watch you with such love! Your upbringing? RELATABLE! We're also a Sharon Cuneta household! How many times have you sung "Ikaw"??? I've gotten to at least 50! 😂

Man, you made me so nostalgic for those house parties, and our karaoke night just got a million times better! Keen to throw in some Korean hits with Yoongles' renditions! Do you sing any Korean songs, too? The only ones I have memorized are Lee So Ra's "Song Request" (omg I die fantasizing about singing it while Yoongi raps in the middle) and Taeyang's "Eyes, Nose, Lips", though I bet my pronunciation needs a ton of work!

Haha, oh man, this made me belly laugh and feel such warm feels at the same time! Hoping you've been having a wonderful day. Throw on some Lani or Whitney and belt it out!

[c-c-cherry]

What's the most embarrassing thing each of the Bucci gang has done/has had happen to them?

Ok I took WAY too long on this but I loved this question so much and it was so fun coming up with these. Special thanks to my girl @jjadegreen for helping me!!

**This isn’t NSFW but I’d say its teen and up just because of some of the stuff talked about hehe**

______________________

Mista

-Pre-canon Mista was a bit sick one night so Bruno made him stay home while they all went on this one mission

-So naturally he’s like “HELL YEAH HOME ALONE”

-Bruno forgets his wallet and had to come back a little while later to get it and walks in on him wearing the following:

One of Abbacchio’s signature goth dress robe thing

Like 12 of Bruno’s barrettes all sticking to the top of his head

Fugo’s tie

Narancia’s bandana

All while BLASTING K-Pop at full volume in the living room. And our man is INTO IT. This isn’t just some radio coincidence shit, he was SCREAMING the lyrics. He owns the CDs.

-Bucciarati LOSES IT. Mista has never been so mortified in his life and Bruno has never laughed so hard in his life.

-He promises not to tell the rest of the gang but tells him it’s officially blackmail material

-They never speak of it again but at Christmas Mista opens Bruno’s gift and it's a brand new K-pop CD and everyone thinks its just a gag gift but like

-He definitely listens to it later alone in his room

Bucciarati

Bruno Bucciarati does not get drunk for two main reasons:

He blacks out every time

He’s an absolute lightweight

-The last time Bruno got absolutely piss drunk, he was with Abbacchio and it wasn’t even funny. It was just surreal because Bucciarati never lets himself go to such an extent

-For whatever reason Bruno is like “hey I never drink we should go to the bar or something” after a successful mission

-Even though the legal age of drinking is technically 16 in Italy they leave “the kids” home to watch mean girls or some shit

-Mista tags along too because he’s worried Bruno will get drunk and spill about the unfortunate “K-pop incident”

-My man Bruno drank like two beers and was immediately GONE like he got up and got lost in the bar after way too many drinks and ran into a drag Queen with Abbacchio’s hair

-Said drag queen became Bruno Bucciarati’s new drinking buddy

-He stumbles over to the karaoke contest and gets onstage and grabs the shitty bar mic and screams “THIS GOES OUT TO LEONE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWUA TWO YEARS HONEY~” and Mista is just like 👁👄👁

-Because uhhh they have literally been together for two years but everyone in the gang just thinks its a weird on/off thing because they never talk about it

-He sings dancing queen because its by ABBA and both Leone and Mista are fucking screaming with laughter and Abbacchio is filming the entire goddamn thing

-He buys the entire bar drinks they all love him so much

-Afterwards Leone tries to get them home so he leaves them outside while he takes a piss and when he walks back out THEY ARE GONE.

-Mista thought it would be a perfect time for them to get tattoos because his fucking capo is drunk off his ass and there is no better time

-Mista gets these two giant smoking guns on his back and his ass is in SO MUCH PAIN afterward that he leaves Bruno alone while he’s picking out his tattoo to get ice cream

-When he comes back Bruno has a tattoo ON HIS LEFT FOOT THAT SAYS “Never don’t give up.” The tattoo people tried to correct him but he insisted

-Abba finds them and is just like “jesus god” and takes them all to a hotel because there is no way in hell he’s taking them back home like this

-The next morning Bruno remembers absolutely NOTHING and as the gang admires Mista’s giant tattoo they ask if Bruno got one too and he’s like “god no I’m not that irresponsible”

-As soon as they’re alone Abba’s like “you got one on the bottom of your foot” and you can just see the moment Bucciarati’s soul leaves his body

Fugo

-Ok so if y’all didn’t know Fugo literally canonically wears a thong

-This isn’t sexualizing him (also I am indeed a minor don’t harass me) it's just a fact of life. You do you Fugo.

-So he sneaks out of the house once in a while and goes shopping for them cause our man’s gotta live, you know?

-He pops in the underwear store one day and you wanna know who he fucking passes by in the lingerie section?

-Bruno fucking Bucciarati.

-Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering he’s wearing visible lingerie in his tiddy window outfit but like

-That’s like running into your dad at femboy hooters

-Much to his dismay, the man spots him immediately and there’s just this...awkward silence as Fugo is holding this shopping basket of underwear and Bruno is holding the raunchiest piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life

-They never talk about it again. Fugo finds a different store.

Abbacchio

-The most mortifying moment Abbacchio can live to remember is the first time he told Bucciarati that he loved him

-Pre-canon, our man is NOT having a vibing time

-He gets absolutely wasted with while Bruno’s at his apartment

-He’s the most miserable drunk, so he’s just fucking sobbing and Bucci is sitting there trying to console him and Abbacchio just looks up at him with tears streaking down his face and says “I’m in love with you” and the look on Bruno’s face just makes him feel even more miserable

-The entire night he keeps blubbering about how much he loves him and how much he means to him and how beautiful he is and the entire time Bruno is doing that thing where he tries to cover his face with his hand because our man is mega FLUSTERED up in here

-When he wakes up he remembers EVERYTHING and he wished he didn’t because then maybe he would be able to say that he didn’t mean it

-Bruno is surprisingly just like “Did you really mean it?” and he can’t lie so he just tells the truth and he’s just nonchalantly like “me too”

-Bruno thinks it’ll be a nice wedding story and Abbacchio no longer wants to live on this planet

Narancia

-Mista and Narancia are vibing in the living room one night and Nara tells Mista to grab his gameboy from upstairs

-He says its under his pillow (or else Bruno will take it away every night hehe)

-But you wanna know what else is under Narancia’s pillow? His Diary. No, it’s not a journal or just a blank book, Mista finds a book titled DIARY.

-And the shit in there is priceless.

“Bucciarati is sooo cool. I tried cutting my hair like his, but it didn’t really work. I think I gotta wear this hat for the next couple weeks. Shit. Fuck. If someone takes it off, I’m so fucked.”

“I clogged up the toilet yesterday and was too scared to tell Abba, so I just flushed it again but then the water wouldn’t stop flooding everywhere so I used Aerosmith to explode the toilet and told Abba that it was a stand attack. He believed me. If ANYONE ever finds out, I’m dead.”

“HOLY SHIT. I swallowed a tide pod yesterday and freaked out so I made Giorno turn it into a grape in my stomach with his stand. I almost DIED. But I didn’t so I’m over it. If Giorno ever tells anyone, I’ll kill him.”

-Narancia realizes about ten minutes after Mista left that HOLY SHIT HIS DIARY

-he finds Mista three quarters way through it and gives him $50 not to tell anyone about it.

-The shame never leaves, though

Trish

-Jade gave me a cute headcanon that Trish’s mom was still only teaching her how to properly put on makeup before she died (it's not like there was youtube or anything to teach her either) so our girl Trish only knows the basics

-She puts on lip gloss and blush and mascara and stuff but she’s never even TOUCHED eyeliner and rarely puts on eyeshadow. She doesn’t even wear concealer most of the time (she honestly doesn’t even need to, her skin is baby soft smooth)

-So long story short she kind of misses her mom and remembers how her mom was going to teach her a smokey eye before she died and is determined to teach it to herself now

-So she pulls a little heist and snatches some of Abbacchio’s makeup while they’re all out doing stuff

-She was not prepared for how heavy this shit was. She was used to the lighter, more natural stuff but Abba’s makeup is EXTREME.

-All of his stuff is waterproof so it doesn’t wash off while he’s crying at 3am and it’s just this—dark, heavy stuff.

-She actually hasn’t used a thick, real tube of lipstick before, only those little gloss tubes with the stick because she has smaller lips so when she crouches over with a small makeup mirror in fear of anyone somehow walking in on her and smears Abbacchio’s thick, dark purple lipstick on her lips, she knew she was absolutely fucked. She has no idea how to do this shit, especially not with dark, heavy goth makeup

-The smokey eye does not work. It’s just smeared eyeshadow EVERYWHERE, it looks like she has two giant, awful, black eyes and her first attempt at eyeliner was just—unspeakably horrible

-She has no idea where to start so she just puts on way too much of absolutely everything and immediately regrets it the moment she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror

-Abba comes home early and immediately realizes that some of his makeup is gone and he knows it has to be Trish

-He walks upstairs to confront her but just hears loud, ugly sobbing coming from her room and bursts in only to find her desperately trying to wipe off layers of caked-on water-proof makeup and absolutely failing

-The two of them spend all night taking it off all while Trish is still crying teary apologies to him

-To add in some wholesome Dadbacchio, he teaches her how to properly put everything on the next day <3

Giorno

-Some people forget that as a 15 year old, Giorno sometimes has absolutely no impulse control

-So when Polnareff tells him that he’s the spitting image of his evil, murderous, vampire dad he’s immediately like “haha well I’m gonna go dye my hair now”

-Everyone had something to do that day/night so Giorno waltzes over to the nearest drug store and grabs one of those at-home dying kits (he got dark green cause he thought it would look cool with his new outfit)

-He gets home and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing so he just thinks it’ll work out somehow

-Soooo yeah he does NOT put it in properly at all, he just kind of takes the shit and slathers it all over his hair and doesn’t do his roots and doesn’t put it up and leaves it dripping down his back and stuff and his stupid ass FALLS ASLEEP with the hair dye in

-He wakes up and the sheets are this really awful light green colour but he doesn’t pay any mind to it

-He looks in the mirror and from the front it actually looks good and he gets all excited and decides to wash it out

-When he gets out of the shower it’s this awful disgusting light light ugly green and he almost cries. Almost.

-It looks like someone dunked him in that Nickelodeon slime and he looks at the package and it says the dye will stay in for at least 3 weeks and there aRE TEARY EYES

-He spends the next hour in the shower trying to wash it out. It does not wash out.

-Utterly defeated with his hair matted and donuts practically falling apart, he stumbles over to his room and tries to wash the sheets covered in slime-coloured hair dye which *surprise!!!* doesn’t wash out either!

-He must dispose of the evidence, but of COURSE they’re out of garbage bags so he shoves all the dye kit stuff and the sheets into a mafia body bag and chucks it by the garbage can outside without a single thought

-Which he SHOULD have had a single thought about it, because when they get home and Narancia spots the body bag he’s like “holy shit guys I think Giorno killed someone while we were out”

-So they all panically pop into the house and cautiously try to find Giorno. Fugo finally finds him pacing around his room in the dark and when he flicks on the lights HO-LY SHIT.

-Fugo obviously bursts out into laughter and Bruno books it up the stairs and also starts cackling and Narancia is like “OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE LOOKING LIKE THAT?!” and Giorno has to explain to them that the body bag is filled with stained bedsheets (much to his embarrassment)

-Abbacchio takes so many pictures and Giorno is having a nervous breakdown because he cannot live with his hair looking like this

-Bruno makes Abba fix it the next morning and he loves every second of Giorno’s mortification

-The pictures Abbacchio took of that night are framed next to the pictures of Bruno’s wasted karaoke night in his room

______________________

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I’m absolutely exhausted now haha so I’ll scroll through the rest of the asks when I wake up!!

[bluesey-182]

We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 12 

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / ao3

so this is super fluffy and maybe a little cringey but it’s what i wanted to write lol. hopefully you enjoy! 

--------

Cardan’s bedroom door opened with a flourish and spit out the Ghost looking like he hadn’t changed his clothes in days despite his wet hair suggesting a recent shower. Without pause, Ghost flopped down onto the bed between Jude and Cardan and let out a great huff into the pillows.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” Cardan asked sleepily as the disturbance woke him from his late afternoon nap. Jude set her phone down on the nightstand beside her and poked Ghost like he was a dead body.

Dramatically, he flipped himself onto his back and smacked Cardan in the face in the process. “The two of you have been wallowing for two weeks, and I respect that you’re in mourning, but it’s time you got out of this damn apartment and coped like any self-disrespecting person in their twenties would do.”

“What are you talking about?” Cardan asked as he attempted to pry Ghost off of where he was now cuddling Cardan.

“You’re going to drive sweet Jude here back to her apartment where she can change out of your god awful workout clothes and then the three of us,” Ghost paused to throw his other arm around Jude, “are going to a fucking bar.”

“I don’t know if I really--,” Cardan began.

“I don’t care.” With this, Ghost gave Cardan a smooch on the cheek, threw a wink in Jude’s direction, and then left with as much drama as he had entered with.

“I really hate him sometimes,” Cardan grumbled as he wiped away Ghost’s kiss with a grimace. “But honestly it would be nice to get out.”

“Okay,” Jude said simply.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Cardan’s expression suggested he was hoping she’d want to come.

She gave him a real smile and answered honestly, “Yeah, it’d be nice to get out. And to put on some real clothes.”

Cardan laughed and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Then let’s go to a fucking bar, as Ghost so astutely put it.”

Taryn was in the apartment--without her annoying ass boyfriend, thank god--when Jude came home to change her clothes. The twins exchanged a glare but otherwise ignored each other as Jude made her way to her bedroom. She had already showered that morning at Cardan’s so now only needed to throw on some clothes and do something with her mass of curly hair. Digging through her closet, she came out with a pair of black skinny jeans, knee high boots, and a yellow crop top Taryn had given her that was decorated with various fruits. After dressing she ran a comb through her hair and decided to just leave it down for the night. As a last thought, she threw on a bit of mascara before leaving the apartment and running down the outdoor stairs to climb back into Cardan’s BMW. Surprisingly the Ghost had stayed in the backseat this time.

"Whoa," Cardan whispered as he took in Jude's outfit. He didn't seem to notice he had spoken but his eyes scanned her reverently from head to toe before meeting her own gaze. His eyes were alight as she gave him a slow grin.

"I think this is the first time I've seen you at a loss for words," she teased.

"I think you're shorting out my brain," he finally said. "Fucking hell you look beautiful." 

Jude felt herself blushing all the way to her collar bone. The longer Cardan looked at her like that, the hotter she felt.

"So, ummm," Ghost interjected, making Jude and Cardan jump at the sudden reminder that they weren't alone. "Can we go now or do you two need to go upstairs and like… take care of this?" 

Now Jude was blushing for a different reason and she couldn't explain why she was filled with the urge to smack Ghost, but she was also beginning to suspect this was a normal symptom of being around him. With a final grin in Jude's direction--a grin that somehow felt like a promise--Cardan started the car.

They ended up at the same bar as before and had to do a few laps around the parking lot to find a parking space. Finally, Cardan squeezed his shitty car between two trucks that were clearly compensation for some rednecks and piled out of the car as best they could in the narrow space. It was Friday night in a college town so, of course, the place was packed.

Inside they were greeted with someone’s squeaking rendition of an Abba song. Ghost let out a loud groan at the same time Cardan laughed uproariously.

“Fuck, it’s karaoke night!” Ghost shouted over the noise.

“Then I guess we better get very drunk,” Cardan responded through his laughter.

They were indeed very drunk. They had turned karaoke into a drinking game. Every time one of them wanted to stick an ice pick into their ears because of the horrible singing, they took a shot. Everytime someone in the crowd shouted “Yes bitch!” to a friend on stage, they took a shot. With every sip towards being wasted, Jude became more and more transfixed with Cardan’s increasingly disheveled hair. It was like the hair itself was drunk, tumbling all over the place and hanging in his face. They’d take a shot, he’d rake his hands through his hair, and Jude’s heart would do traitorous things in her chest. Who the fuck let this boy be this hot?

He was saying something to her. Shit, Jude was drunk.

“What?” She asked.

“I said,” he purred, leaning into her personal space so that his lips were so, so close. “That you should get up there.” He indicated the stage and Jude’s stomach dropped.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“I’ll do it after you,” he promised with a smile.

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it,” she returned with a smile of her own. 

Cardan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her mouth. Jude felt like she could drown in his kiss and happily do so. She thought she could happily drown in him. 

“Okay fine,” she relented.

Cardan laughed, “I wasn’t even trying to convince you, I just wanted to kiss my beautiful girlfriend.”

Girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend 

“Let’s make a deal, Greenbriar,” she said, rising from her seat to settle sideways in his lap. “We’ll both sing a stupid karoake song and Ghost here,” at the mention of his name Ghost looked drunkenly over at them and smiled like an idiot, “will decide who sang better and the loser has to pay for all of the winners drinks for the rest of the night.”

Cardan threw his head back and laughed, exposing his throat to her. She couldn’t explain why that action made something come alive inside her. “Oh darling, you couldn’t afford all of my drinks. But alright, you’re on.”

As the current song came to an end, Jude stepped up to the stage to choose a song. A lot of them were old 80’s rock music but there were some more recent releases as well, though most she didn’t recognize. Eventually she came across a song she knew. Her heart was racing. Why was she doing this? Her singing was mediocre at best. She was about to make a fool of herself. And for what? To prove something to Cardan? Her competitive side was going to kill her someday. She looked back at their table and was about to go back and tell Cardan she was kidding when he smiled at her. It wasn’t a mocking smile but a supportive one, one that glowed with curiosity and wonder at her. She felt the energy of it surge through her body and stepped up to the microphone. 

She sang her way through The Love Club as Cardan cheered her on and not-so-subtly checked her out with a smile on his full lips. Jude wanted to kiss him. The microphone easily detached from its stand and Jude carefully stepped off stage to their table nearby it. She continued to sing, but with more laughter in her voice now, as she went to Cardan and sat in his lap again. Some people hooted and hollered but the noise was lost on Jude as she stared into Cardan’s glowing eyes. His smile was soft, meant only for her. His hands were on her side, holding her to him, and he gently placed a kiss to her cheek. He was looking at her, holding her, smiling at her like she was the only one in the world for him. She felt quiet inside as she finished the song to some scattered cheers around the room. 

Jude found she was at a loss for words. A loss for thoughts, more like, and so she wordlessly passed the microphone to Cardan. He smirked, shifted her off his lap, and bounded towards the stage.

"Have you ever heard Cardan sing?" Ghosts asked her over the rumble of the bar crowd. "Like, actually sing? Not that stupid shit he does in the car."

"No," Jude answered truthfully. "Why?"

"You might be in for a surprise." 

Cardan picked his song out far faster than Jude had and already the music was starting. Cardan flashed her his signature smirk before he started singing.

"The simulation just went bad, but you're the best I've ever had."

If Jude's singing was mediocre, Cardan's was anything but. Despite his screaming and dying noises in the car when he sang along with the radio, his voice was actually… good.

Which meant Jude was screwed. She must have made a face at the realization because just then Ghost started cackling.

"Like hand prints in wet cement, she touched me, it's permanent."

There was a group of girls by the stage checking out Cardan and whispering to each other but he kept his eyes and his irritating smile on Jude.

"In my head, in my head…"

"I hate him," she said to no one in particular.

"No you don't," Ghost said, "you're just mad you lost."

"You're a dickbag."

Ghost cackled again, "Damn, Cardan was right, you have an arsenal of names to call someone. I like it." He reached his fist across the table and, despite herself, Jude bumped her knuckles against his. 

Suddenly a hand was grabbing the free hand in her lap and she looked up to see Cardan's face just before he tugged her off her chair and onto the stage with him. The girls standing by the stage gave her some nasty looks, but Cardan just kept singing to her. She tried to pull away to get off the stage but Cardan spun her around and tucked her against him and all her thoughts left her. There was only the feeling of his stomach pressed against her back, his arm looped loosely around her waist, and his voice filling her ear. She found herself smiling. 

And then Cardan pulled away and started dancing like an idiot and Jude laughed so hard she snorted. God, she was drunk. But when Cardan offered his hand again for her to join him, she took it. He looked happier in that moment than he had in weeks and Jude had the sensation of falling. 

"I can't hide," Cardan sang, pulling her in close again so their noses were pressed together, "how I feel about you, inside. I'd give everything up tonight, if I could just have you be mine. Be mine, baby."

Her body stopped moving, her attention completely transfixed with Cardan standing in front of her. Cardan's mouth, Cardan's eyes, Cardan's hands. She wanted to snatch him away and run off somewhere to be alone. She just wanted him. And as he gave her one of his real, goofy smiles, her legs gave out beneath her and Cardan was there pulling her up against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he finished his song before pressing a hot kiss against her lips. The applause for Cardan's performance was louder than it had been after hers and she knew without a doubt that she had lost their bet. But she couldn't bring herself to care when Cardan was still kissing her like that.

Cardan didn't let go of her until they were back at their table, and even then he settled down into his chair with her still in his lap. Her legs were still around him and she buried her face into the crook of his neck to breathe in the scent of him. His various earrings tickled her skin but she only buried herself deeper. His arms were a solid wall around her. She was safe here with him. She always would be.

"So do I have to tell you who won or is it obvious?" Ghost teased. 

Finally, Jude pulled away from Cardan enough to look at their friend. "It's obvious, jackass, but you don't have to rub it in."

As Ghost laughed, Cardan gently tipped Jude's head back towards his. "You were really good though."

"Oh, please, no I wasn't," she said with a blush.

"All I could think about while you were up there was how badly I wanted to kiss you," Cardan whispered, so close she could feel his breath against her lips. 

"Just kiss?" She breathed. 

Cardan smiled a wicked smile and looked at her lips. "Why, Jude? Having dirty thoughts?" 

"Maybe." The word came out in a whisper as Cardan leaned in to kiss her again. The kiss was desperate, one after another after another, and then his tongue slipped into her mouth and his hands slid up her back and--

"You guys are the fucking worst," Ghost said behind them.

Cardan pulled away but immediately buried his head against Jude's chest. "I'm gonna kill him. I'm actually going to kill him."

With a smile, Jude pressed a soft kiss to the top of Cardan's head and rose. She laughed as he shifted in his seat and arranged his legs in a manner that hid what was going on in his lap after that kiss. He stuck his tongue out at her like a little kid as she continued to laugh. 

They took an Uber home. Despite Ghost’s best efforts, he went home without a man or woman for company. They walked into the apartment, arms slung about each other's shoulders, like a three headed monster--still singing a song that had been playing on the Ubers radio. Jude was full of bubbling laughter, Cardan looking at her like she was made of starlight, and Ghost was so drunk that he immediately collapsed facedown on the couch and started to snore. Once in Cardan's bedroom, Jude began trying to take off her boots but her hands didn't seem to know how to be hands anymore. With a soft laugh, Cardan gently sat her on the edge of the bed and pulled her shoes off for her.

"Can I borrow something to sleep in?" She slurred, gripping onto Cardan's shoulder for balance as the world started spinning. 

"Of course, my darling god."

He gave her one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts. She ignored the latter but pulled the shirt over her head after Cardan helped her undress. With a contented sigh, she laid back in his bed.

Cardan used the restroom and changed before climbing in beside her, the motion waking her from her almost sleep. Cardan was humming as he pulled her into him.

"What are you singing?" She asked as she threw her arm over his hip to hold onto him.

"Darling can't you see," he sang softly. It took Jude just a moment to recognize the song as the same one he sang to her in the park. "I'm a broken man with addictive tendencies and I think… I love you."

--------

in case you’re interested, the song cardan sings at the bar is “bloody valentine” by mgk bc im trash. the next chapter is gonna be steamy and nsfw so prepare yourself for that lmao. hope you enjoyed!

@goblinwhoships @hizqueen4life @courtofjurdan @pilesofriles @velarian-trash @standbislytherin @heyheyheylemonade @ireallyshouldsleeprn

[swanqiu]

A STUDY IN CHARACTER LAYERS.

——— slight mentions of: drugs, death

LAYER  001 :   THE  OUTSIDE.

NAME.   zhang qiu / “cho chang”.

EYE COLOR.   light brown.

HAIR STYLE / COLOR.  black, although more of a dark brown in most lights. she usually wears it down, if not in a neat bun at the office or a nice plait during matches.

HEIGHT.   5′3″

CLOTHING  STYLE.   black jeans! athletic shorts! small pieces of statement jewelry! turtlenecks! sleeveless tops with lacy straps! rayon blouses with 3/4 sleeves! tapered slim-fit pantsuits! shoes with some height that also pair with many different outfits! muggle hoodies supporting the local rugby and football teams! she “borrows” her partner’s tees and sweaters and casual wear, so lol add those to the list. she’s big on practicality and comfort over flair and height of fashion, but she does like keeping up with trends and coordinating her outfits to reflect that.

BEST  PHYSICAL  FEATURE.   her smile! it’s absolutely very cliche, but when she smiles and her nose does that crinkly thing and her eyes get all starry, it’s very unfair how powerful it is. alternatively, she also has a great ass, so there’s that.

LAYER  002 :   THE  INSIDE.

FEARS.   losing people she loves. having someone d*e during a healing procedure and her mind just shutting down during it.

GUILTY  PLEASURE.   parfaits! going for a late night fly! being on top!!!

BIGGEST  PET  PEEVE.   people who sneeze/cough without covering their mouth and nose. people in the magical community who somehow think muggles are “less developed” or “behind” without magic, when they’re the ones who haven’t even moved beyond printed news and radios to circulate current events and pop culture tbh.

AMBITIONS  FOR  THE  FUTURE.   to successfully campaign for a british seat at the international confederation of wizards (delegate timeline); to patent a line of at-home salves and develop at least one healing spell by the end of her residency (healer timeline); to just be the best mom and partner possible, honestly! (divorced verse)

LAYER  003 :   THOUGHTS.

FIRST  THOUGHTS  WAKING  UP.   huh. 6 AM already?

THINKS  ABOUT  MOST.   how other people are doing.

THINKS  ABOUT  BEFORE  BED.   any of the interactions she might have had that day.

WHAT  THEY  THINK  THEIR  BEST  QUALITY  IS.   her ability to depend on herself. her sociability. her commitment to fight for what’s right.

LAYER  004 :   WHAT’S  BETTER ?

SINGLE  OR  GROUP  DATES.   single (unless you’re harry potter and have to meet up with hermione later in the day). group dates are sometimes useful for gauging potential partners’ ability to crack on with her friends, though.

TO  BE  LOVED  OR  RESPECTED.   loved. respected. both?

BEAUTY  OR  BRAINS.   brains— for herself and for a potential partner. BUT i can’t lie, if we’re being really honest here, i’m absolutely tempted by the idea of cho being with a heart-of-gold jock whose sole purposes in life are to get gains, look good, and love cho. cho x himbo king is canon btw; the muggle she marries is a *checks notes* brickhouse rugby player who rescues animals on the side and doesn’t know the first thing about how getting sick works but will gladly and fondly listen to her explain everything from antibodies to the common cold to why wearing a mask helps.

DOGS  OR  CATS.   both.

LAYER  005 :   DO  THEY…

LIE.   not really, and never with bad intentions. as she gets older, she learns to use it more for self-preservation.

BELIEVE  IN  THEMSELVES.   yes.

BELIEVE  IN  LOVE.   yes. always.

WANT  SOMEONE.   no. in her divorced verse, the answer strays more toward yes.

LAYER  006 :   HAVE  THEY  EVER…

BEEN  ON  STAGE.   yes. ravenclaw common room parties are a whole event. terry boot may or may not have the negatives of the one time she sang karaoke to abba’s “dancing queen” on roger davies’s 17th birthday.

DONE  DRUGS.   yes. her muggle psychiatrist recommended medical mar*juana to cope with the very rare night terrors. she tried it for a little while, and it worked, but she ultimately prefers the calming potions made by healer pye. she used sleeping draughts for a little while after the war (who didn’t), but she hasn’t used them since.

GOTTEN  DRUNK.   lmao yes. me, ess the mun, cupping my hands around my mouth: baby girl’s a light weight, y’all!

CHANGED  WHO  THEY  WERE  TO  FIT  IN.   no. part of the reason we read about her experiencing ostracization at school (through harry’s pov) was because she didn’t waver in her defense of marietta and was quite open with her emotions (although she ended up having to repress a large part of her grief and anger anyway). she’s very firm about sticking to her resolutions and not bending who she is in order to do that. (that might get slightly lost in romantic relationships, though.) in her moved-to-the-muggle-world verse, she definitely changes her external habits and way of living to blend in, but it’s not so much a change of her character or her person.

LAYER  007 :   FAVORITES.

FAVORITE COLOR.   beige. light purples. dark greens.

FAVORITE  ANIMAL.   swans.

FAVORITE  MOVIE.   the princess bride (1986). in the mood for love (2000). miss congeniality (2000). remember the titans (2000). 2000 was clearly a big year for her and movies.

FAVORITE  GAME.   lmao as if it would be anything other than quidditch! i’m not exactly sure how fans keep up with the sport if they’re not watching in-person, but when league cup season rolls around, the television is on, the radio is tuned, the newspaper articles about game highlights and star players are read, the plumpton tutshill jersey is ritualistically worn...

LAYER  008 :   SLEEP.

HEAVY  OR  LIGHT  SLEEPER.   light sleeper.

WHAT  SIDE  OF  THE  BED  DO  THEY  SLEEP  ON.   the right side— when she shares a bed with someone, it’s more comfortable for her to cuddle up to them if they’re on her left. in her divorced verse, she sleeps on whatever part of the bed the kids didn’t claim in the middle of the night.

WHAT  DO  THEY  WEAR  TO  BED.   old quidditch stuff— she has one or two ravenclaw scrimmage jerseys that are so old the house insignia’s already faded away. she also has endless tutshill tornadoes shirseys and tees that she’s worn and washed so often that the fabric’s become so soft now and is definitely susceptible to hem stitches unraveling. her favorite sleepwear combo is a pair of cotton boyshorts and to go braless under one of her oversized tutshill tees. comfortable— and as flattering and as easy access as possible, for those nights.

WEIRD  THINGS  THEY  DO  IN  THEIR  SLEEP.   she mumbles a lot sometimes.

LAYER  009 :   LOVE.

BIG  DECLARATIONS  OR  SMALL.   small, from her end, but she’s extremely appreciative (and only a little embarrassed) of big declarations toward her.

OPEN  OR  CLOSED  OFF.   open, although she wisely exercises caution with some people and thus becomes more closed off.

LOVE  AT  FIRST  SIGHT  OR  SLOW  BURN.   slow burn! this is also me, ess, exposing myself for my love of a good slow burn.

ONE  TRUE  LOVE  OR  A  STRING.   a string, but maybe it leads to comfortably settling into that true love. she definitely doesn’t believe that there is only and exactly one love out there for each person. that myth is a terrible and disheartening way to go about life, frankly.

LAYER  010 :   FINISH  THE  SENTENCE.

I  LOVE.   "...that things do get better. my friends. the people i consider my family. my children (added for divorced verse).”

I  FEEL.   "...insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. content with where i am, usually. but mostly, i tend to feel everything, unfortunately all at once.”

I  HIDE.   “...the parts of my feelings that lead into anger.”

I  MISS.   "...the simpler days. hogwarts days, honestly.”

I  WISH.   "...i could have had more time. to do things. to be with people. to enjoy certain moments. sorry— a bit vague, huh?”

tagged by: @gramenviride​ ( 💕 )​ tagging: lol i’ve already tagged a lot of you in these dash games/character studies and likely blew up your notifications over the last week; this turned out pretty long and might use more brain power than usual, so i’m gonna go with a general call for anyone that sees this and wants to fill this out to please do it! and tag me if you do! 

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

A Moment of Rest || Morgan and Kaden

TIMING: Before the cabin in the woods  LOCTAION: Woods PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: A very normal picnic in the woods with a surprise guest.

“You could look happier to be out in the sunshine, you know. There’s not even any mushrooms in sight.” Morgan said. She spread out the picnic blanket in the shade, and settled down, a little smug today at being beyond heat exhaustion and squirming when she started to sweat through her cami. Corpse chill was so severe, she wasn’t even sure if she would sweat anymore. Morgan squished down the thought, determined to maintain it as a positive. She could look cute in any kind of weather. She didn’t even need ice baths like Deirdre did. Shaking back her hair, she gestured for Kaden to come sit. “In honor of us needing a serious break, and your favorite band of all time, I’ve got a mamma mia mimosa for you, a super trooper brain smoothie for me, and gimmie, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie waffles. Obviously, I can’t tell how much better they are from my last ones, but I’m feeling really confident about how I tweaked the batter. If nothing else, these are at least twice as fluffy. Come on, you know you want some, right?”

“I don’t even want to think about the mushrooms, thanks,” Kaden said as he found a spot on the picnic blanket across from Morgan. “I don’t even know how to begin explaining that one to Regan. She’s finally not five fucking inches so it’d be nice if we could get a two second reprieve from the fae bullshit.” Not to mention, he still wasn’t completely sure about the details on these mushrooms, he just knew he wasn’t ready to face whatever they were going to do to Regan. Part of him considered asking Morgan for advice but no, this was supposed to be a break. Maybe later. He sighed and was about to reach for the mimosa when he heard her little intro. Kaden sat there, blinking at her, fully ready to get up and walk the fuck away. “Erin fucking told you, didn’t she?” Putain. That was his guilty pleasure, not something he wanted out in public. It was embarrassing enough admitting it, he didn’t need ABBA rubbed in his face like that. Still, clear enough she meant well. Teasing. That’s all it was. Like they were friends or something. Fine. “Only if you quit making fun of me, dead girl.” He grumbled a little as he took the waffles from her. “And don’t tell Deirdre.”

“Don’t you know, Kaden? Up in White Crest you don’t think about fairy mushrooms; fairy mushrooms think about you.” Morgan didn’t know how to tell him her flippancy was the only thing keeping her from giving into the dread of being surrounded by those fucking fungi for months. But if he didn’t want an early ticket to the horror show, she didn’t blame him. She laid out all the tupperware and popped off the lids one by one. There was nothing in the make or decoration that signified anything ABBA related. She’d considered arranging berries on whipped cream to spell out the band’s name, but couldn't find any containers that would fit it just right, Lucky for Kaden.

“Of course Erin told me. We’re friends. But I think you still come out ahead of Ms. EDM Queen. I am ribbing you, but I also think there’s nothing wrong with liking ABBA...until you start making faces like that.” She wagged her finger at him, grinning. “And that’s a terrible request to make because she already knows. Sorry, but we tell each other...pretty much everything.” Morgan shrugged and took a deep, satisfying slurp of her shake. “It’s not that deep of a secret, is it? Will you feel better if I say I sing to Rogers and Hammerstein in my car? Or if I had my own brief ABBA phase when the stage Mamma Mia first came out?”

“You joke but if any town had sentient mushrooms, this is the one,” Kaden said. It was fine, Regan was sensible, unlike Deirdre. They didn’t have to worry about fairy mushroom crap. A pit dropped in his stomach out of nowhere, like some part of him knew he was lying to himself. Guess that was a problem for the future.

Kaden sighed. He hated that Deirdre had one up to embarrass him with. She would, too. At least with Erin they were fair and square. “There’s nothing wrong with ABBA, I just don’t want people laughing at me, alright,” he mumbled. It was stupid to admit, considering for the most part how little he cared about what other people thought of him, or at least that was what he told himself. The more he stayed in White Crest, the more he wondered if that was true. Reputations hardly matter if you don’t stay put in one spot for too long. But here he was all settled and cared and shit like that. There were so many days he wondered if that had been a mistake. And here he was, having waffles with a zombie. Probably a fucking mistake. He sighed and bit into the waffles. For a mistake, it was damn tasty. “Of course you sing musical ballads and shit, that’s completely expected from let’s talk about our feelings girl. Hell I bet you’d live in a musical if you could. Everyone belting out their private fucking emotions. I’d put money down that’s your idea of a good time.” He shook his head before taking another sip of Homs mimosa. Sounded like hell to him. Talking about feelings was bad enough. Kaden’s brow furrowed as he heard a soft small rumbling sound. Almost like a… bleating? Odd. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

“Oh, you’re damn right I would,” Morgan said. “You may not know this, but Deirdre and I kill at karaoke. Give me a moving, hummable love ballad, a solo in the rousing group number, maybe a breakaway hit ‘I want’ song. Maybe if I had one I could actually get more direction in my life going.” She took a deep slurp of her smoothie. “Are you saying that’s not your idea of a good time?” She pouted. She was going to relent a little, ask him about the waffles or, heck, whatever else he was interested in outside of work, when her senses perked at a strange sound from the bushes. “Yeah,” she murmured. Setting her smoothie down, Morgan got to her feet and started creeping towards the sound. The leaves rustled. Something was there alright. She positioned herself in front of Kaden, gesturing, sshhh. “We should probably stay quiet,” she whispered.

“Fuck no,” Kaden said with no hesitation. “I can’t imagine wanting to burst out into song or anyone appreciating that, either. All of that sounds tedious. I’ll stick to darts and trivia nights, thanks. Hard pass on the karaoke.” Plus, Regan couldn't sing (by her own admission) and he was fairly fucking ceratin a tone deaf banshee would make everyone else wish they were deaf. He watched, though, as she crept towards the sound. Guess they were going to investigate, huh. He stood and followed behind, nodding and remaining silent at her request. There it was again, the sound. There was no doubt what it was this time. The gentle bleating of a lamb. Which was impossible, there weren’t any farms out here. No livestock was going to survive on its own in White Crest, not out in the woods. He edged up next to her and peeled open the branches to reveal what was beyond them. Sitting there was a small, white lamb. Shit, they had to bring it in, probably take it to the shelter. He didn’t have any of his equipment with him. “Do you have a rope or something? A long string? Anything? We could try to get a loop lead around it,” he whispered.

Morgan gestured for Kaden to keep back as she came up to the bushes. “What are you doing? My limbs grow back, yours don’t!” She hissed. But Kaden peeled back the branches and-- “Aaaw!” Morgan squeezed his shoulder in excitement. “It’s so cute! What do you mean get a rope? Look how small and cute it is!” Morgan reached out a hand to let the fluffy little critter sniff her. It let out a soft bleat and licked her fingertip, testing to see if she was food. Morgan scooped the sweet creature up while it was occupied like this and inspected the little guy on their hands. “Oh, Kaden,” she cooed. “This cutie pie isn’t running off anywhere, are you honey?” The lamb bleated and wriggled in her grasp, ready to be put down. Morgan settled its forelegs on her lap and gave the lamb chin scratches for its trouble. She gave Kaden a look, trying to see if he’d put it together yet. “...It’s a little attached right now?” She prodded. “Because it’s a plant?”

It was always strange to remember that Morgan was damn near indestructible. Sure, Kaden had seen her tossed by a mime moose like a rag doll but so much of him still remembered when a vampire pulled her into the trees and nearly tore her apart. Thankfully, no such danger was there today. It was just a lamb. Well, mostly. It was… tethered to the ground? “Putain. Animal control is ruining me,” he said with a grumble. A year ago, the first thing he would have noticed was the supernatural element of it all. He also probably would have killed the lamb. With how cozy she seemed to be with it, he thought it best not to announce that. Kaden exhaled and plopped back down on the picnic blanket. “I thought it was a lost lamb. Like a real one. I was going to make sure it didn’t get away and bring it into the shelter because I thought it was normal.” That was certainly not the case. “I know what a vegetable lamb is, alright. I grew up knowing this shit, come on,” he grumbled before taking another bite of his waffles. The small supernatural animal across the way bleated and started sniffing the blanket and all the contents there. “Hey. Don’t eat my food; not for you!” he said as he tried to direct the lamb away from the berries on his plate.

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, at least we don’t have to spoil brunch by fighting giant spiders or running from creepy tics. It’s just one sweet little veggie lamb! And still has about another year left in its cute little life, judging from the size.” Morgan booped the lamb’s nose and pet its fur. “Oh, yeah, you’re a real big bad expert. What’s the protocol for this one anyway? It’s just so fearsome and terrible.” This, just as the lamb tried to take some of Kaden’s blackberries, made her laugh even more. Morgan lifted the critter out of the way and wiggled its forelegs in Kaden’s direction, ventriloquising sweetly, “Put ‘em up, Kaden! That’s my berries! I’ll fight you for them!”

She made a show of gasping with horror. “What a very rude vegetable! Should we pacify your gloriousness?” She picked up one of the berries from the tupperware and hovered it over the critter’s mouth. It bleated, thrashing and pleading until Morgan relented and brought it close enough to be eaten. “My mom had one once, apparently. They’re hard to grow in the first place. A lot can go wrong and it’s sort of gross when it doesn’t work out. But I’m not sure what this little guy is doing out here…” Bringing the lamb back to her lap, she pushed herself out of her thoughts and smiled over at Kaden. “How’s the food? And the whipped cream? I’ve never made it before and I can’t taste, but I measured everything really carefully.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a point there,” Kaden replied. He was sick of being told that normal was a relative word, but at this point, he’d take normal adjacent. And avoiding monsters that ate people, or well, at least actively planned to eat them, was an improvement to most days in White Crest. “Uh, you really want to know?” he asked, mouth pulled into a thin line, looking down at the lamb and then back to her. “Langley code is everything supernatural should go.” He knew those words would fall like a lead weight between them, but it’s not like he could change his past or his family or what he was raised with anymore than she could change what she was. And he was admittedly still a little uncomfortable how much he’d changed himself. He much preferred it when he didn't have to face that reality, it was much easier when he could ignore it, not have to examine what all his contradicting bullshit meant. Good thing he didn't have to think about it long. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at the lamb as she held it up and made it act out a scene. It was so easy to forget that she wasn’t human and that it wasn’t an animal.

Okay, alright, stupid thing was cute. Putain. “Yeah so I’ve heard.” He couldn’t imagine going through all that work for a vegetable version of a sheep when there were standard sheep. Not that he needed one of those either. He rolled his eyes before he held out some of the berries in his hand for the stupid vegetable. It bleated before timedly wobbling towards him, nose sniffing and snuffling to find the fruit in his hands. Funny how similar it was to a normal animal; the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile all over again as he watched. “Hmm? Oh. Yeah, it’s great. Almost too sweet but that could just be me, I don’t have a huge sweet tooth surprisingly.”

Morgan went stiff as Kaden explained the Langley code. Her eyes did nothing to hide the gravity of what he’d said, the danger she and the vegetable lamb were ostensibly in. She couldn’t help but hold the lamb a little tighter, any number of arguments rising in her throat. We have as much right to be here as anyone else. We didn’t choose how we were made any more than you did. What even gives Langleys the right to determine what counts as ‘natural.’ Cholera is natural too. So was Ted Bundy. ‘Natural’ isn’t a basis for… Morgan stopped herself. It was almost disturbing how easily she forgot what he was. But he was her exception just as she was his. The space they shared as friends wasn’t any more “natural” than the magic keeping the vegetable lamb alive. It had to be crafted with intention and suspended with care. And then, when the moment passed, it would weaken. One day, Morgan feared, it might even break.

Morgan watched in silence as Kaden fed his berries to the small creature, beaming thoughtfully as it nuzzled his hand. Animals were innocent and trusting even when they shouldn’t be; Deirdre had explained that to her enough times when talking about her childhood farm. But the way Kaden handled the lamb, even nervous as he was, was so gentle. She struggled to imagine him stabbing the life out of a creature just because with those hands. “I guess it’s a good thing for both of us you’re only kind of a Langley,” she said quietly. Clearing her throat she pressed on, “I’m glad, though. About the whipped cream. A little surprised since French cuisine is so rich, but, hey, so is Southern food, I guess, and half of my family didn’t have much of a sweet tooth either.” She shrugged, reaching for some thread that would steer the mood back towards levity. Wherever it was, she couldn’t find it yet.

Kaden couldn’t help but bristle hearing her call him “kind of a Langley.” He didn’t know if he wished she was more wrong or more right. Either way he hated feeling like he was either failing or had wasted a good portion of his life. He wasn’t sure which it was yet. Every inch of him screamed at him to fight, snap back at her comment the way he had for so many years at anyone and everyone, especially those who disparaged him. Spit back something about still being a hunter, legacy, any of that. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the waffles, maybe it was lamb, maybe it was the expression on Morgan’s face mere moments ago. Maybe it was because he remembered everything that had happened with his mother’s ghost.

The lamb started to bristle its little lips around Kaden’s fingers to see if there was anything worth nibbling there and he let the thoughts fade away. “Rich and savory is one thing. And I don’t hate sweet things, they just need a balance,” he said as he plucked a berry of his plate and held it out in his hand for the lamb to eat. “Like a good piece of fruit, just ripe. That’s perfect. If it’s too saccharine, it hurts my teeth, all that.” As much as he wished that had pulled his mind from the previous topic of conversation, it didn’t. “Most of my family didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Not that I remember too much by now.” He hadn’t meant to make it heavy again with talk of loss and death, as inevitable as it was around them. Still, he could try to shift. “I told you my uncle was in town, right? He’s German. Lived with him after--” After he lost his parents. Putain. “Anyway, picked up a decent fondness for good German cuisine, too. Feel like I almost always forget until I see him again, you know? Brings things back.”

“Balance, huh?” Morgan said with a fond smile. “I can get behind that.” But this strange tangent didn’t last long. Kaden hadn’t just lost his family, he’d lost them so young even his memories were faded. For all she knew, his awful ghost problem was the strongest memory of his mother was of her attacking him as that awful creature. She couldn’t help but think about her own mother yelling at her on the beach more than the painfully strained visits in her care facility and later, the home of one of Ruth’s old friends. Neither end was especially wonderful, but the burn was newer in one place than the other.

“I am sorry about your family, Kaden,” she said soberly. “I know how hard it is not to have anyone, to miss people like that, even when your relationship was complicated.” She leveled her eyes at him so he would know she meant it. She wasn’t sure if he realized she’d lost all her family either, that this wasn’t pity, but something about him she might actually understand. “I’m glad Oscar was there for you, at least. It sounds like you two are really close. That has to feel...I don’t even know. How does it feel…? Having him back in your life and accessible in a way he hasn’t been in awhile? Um, cooking and all?”

“Yeah. It’s-- It is what it is,” Kaden said as he tried to keep his eyes on the lamb’s little mouth greedily looking for more berries. It was his constant defense when someone talked about his parents like this. Still, something about the way she said that she was sorry rang true. Kaden could never say where the line was that made it clear to him when people understood loss or not, but it was there, invisible but stark. He didn’t know if it was anything more than just the loss of her own life, though he did recall she also was visited by the ghost of her mother during the whole coin debacle. He wasn’t sure it mattered what or when, if you knew the pain of it, you knew all the same.

“Yeah he was around a lot of my life. Always sort of looked up to him. But ever since I was, I don’t know, twenty or so, we’d split up, reconvene, catch up, repeat.” Kaden shrugged. “It’s always nice to see him. He’s really all I have left of--” Kaden swallowed back his words. Oscar was what he had left of family. His life before anything changed. “But this is, I mean, this is way more complicated than it used to be.” Nothing illustrated it more than this moment right now. He was chatting with a zombie over waffles while petting a goddamn vegetable lamb. There used to be a safety he felt when Oscar was around. Now he felt like the most dangerous person in town. And he hated feeling that way about Oscar of all people, the only person he could always count on to look after him. “Every time I’ve gotten myself into deep shit, I always knew I had someone to turn to. It’s weird not going to him now that I feel like I’m in trouble.” Because the trouble was him.

Morgan didn’t examine the impulse to reach out to Kaden. It came so quickly, and there was something so painful about the way he brushed aside his own loss with such ease, she wondered if he ever let himself feel it now that the wound was starting to numb, or let other people understand what he was feeling. Her hand settled on his shoulder and she squeezed carefully so as not to hurt him. “Yeah, it is what it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the worst, or that it doesn’t trip you up almost out of nowhere sometimes.” Life with Oscar wasn’t like anything Morgan could imagine. She craved to have her hands around anything precious she managed to have. But to have a touchstone you could pass by at all must have been special. Morgan was endeared, even relieved by the way Kaden talked about him, even as his mention of ‘complicated’ put a stone in her stomach. Right. Oscar and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, good for nothing supernaturals that couldn’t possibly be people. Of course.

“I’m sorry that things are different between you now,” she said solemnly. At least for now, she thought, though she couldn’t bear to entertain the idea for long. “Do you have a plan, for how you’re going to deal with his visit here? I mean, is it going to be dangerous for you if he finds things out, or just...well, just more normative levels of terrifying encounters and really hard conversations?”

Kaden never knew what to make of physical contact. Well, when it was from people he wasn’t dating or trying to date. Even between family it had been strained. Or, well, perhaps not strained but it certainly wasn’t frequent. It was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. Funny, her skin was cold, sure, but cold hands barely registered any more. “You don’t have to be, though. Sorry. I mean-- I don’t know.” Talking about what happened was something he was about as good at dealing with as physical affection. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience, though. You don’t have to explain, just-- You can always tell.” He gave the lamb another berry and gave it a small scratch behind its ear. It was easier to just think of it as a real lamb, not supernatural. Focus on the parts that were normal.  

“Dangerous? For me, no. But that’s not what I’m worried about.” Kaden tried to swallow back the lump forming in his throat. It felt impossible for him to imagine what Oscar would do if he found out what Regan was, who he was friends with, the fact that he was keeping a pixie as a roommate, any of it. None of it was behavior that he’d ever imagined for himself, so how could he anticipate any reactions? He suspected, at the very least, that Oscar would try to kill them, encourage Kaden to. But maybe he could make exceptions. Or better yet, maybe he’d just leave town before finding out about any of it. He never had to know Kaden had changed any of his views. He could keep thinking his nephew was still a worthwhile hunter, holding up the legacy.

Right. Doubtful. Kaden let out a sigh. “But yeah, no plans. No clue what to do.”

Morgan gave Kaden another squeeze for good measure. “I do, yeah. Family curses of true suffering don’t exactly fuck around,” she gave a small laugh, breathless and humorless to mark all the anguish that had gone numb from her picking at them over the years. Kaden had probably coped by keeping silent, or leaning in extra hard into the ‘it’s fine school of thought.

“Well, lucky for you, I guess.” Morgan said the word gently, meaning it in earnest. “I just mean, you can use that. You can focus on protecting people you care about, and when the time comes, you don’t have to worry about having to save yourself. That can be really important. And, you know, taking care of people can look like a lot of different things. I think you should consider doing a little more than waiting for the sky to fall down, but I’m just paranoid that way. But, you know, if you’re clear with yourself and your intentions, if you tell yourself enough that you’ll protect Regan no matter what, maybe the right plan will come to you later. But then that’s just one hippie zombie’s opinion. What do you think, veggie lamb?” She lifted the fuzzy critter and steered it up toward Kaden so its bright, guileless eyes were level with his.

Kaden looked up and finally met Morgan’s eyes and gave her a nod in return. It was what he could manage. Too much and it would send the grief and pain flooding back, he was sure of it. No need for that. It wasn’t produc-- He froze, the thought rattled in his mind. It was something straight from his mother’s mouth. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. Or what it meant. He tried to let it roll off him. “Yeah, good point. Guess you don’t get to be free of it even when… you know.”

The way she was approaching the situation wasn’t in a way that had occurred to him at all. The thought of having to save himself from Oscar just didn’t--- His brows knit together at the thought. It didn’t make sense in so many ways; it was a scenario he could never imagine himself in. Needing to protect himself from Oscar. Standing against him. Not being just like him. Not wanting to be just like him. And what did it even mean to go against the small scrap of family he had left? What if he-- That possibility was too difficult for him to even begin to consider just yet. Seeing the veggie lamb sitting there brought him out of his thoughts and put a small smile on his face. “Hmm I think he doesn’t know how to plan for that sort of thing. But he’s also a lamb. Well, technically a plant.”

“You mean even when I’m technically un-cursed but still dead and a zombie?” Morgan said, her smile sad for all its warmth. “Yeah. That stuff sticks forever. Get it?”

Kaden seemed confused by something she said, and it took Morgan awhile to figure that he’d never been given a reason to fear the people who were supposed to take care of him. Or at least not enough that he was willing to admit to himself. She wasn’t sure if he was really lucky for that or not. She quirked her brow up at Kaden as he dodged the question. I see you doing that. She held his gaze a moment, debating whether she should give him this out or not. “Lamby over here is both, thank you very much. Lamby is one of two worlds and lives that way in peace. But, as much wisdom as Lamby almost certainly possesses, I think you’re right. He just wants more of your berries.”

[letterboxd]

Obsession.

Ella Kemp dives into Letterboxd’s 100 highest-rated, obsessively rewatched films of 2020 to find out why we love them—and to give Hollywood a heads-up on what we want to rewatch again and again.

Take note, development execs: we want to watch more of everything that makes us feel alive; that makes us feel thankful to be. To bottle that feeling, and drink it up as often, and as obsessively, as we like. We also want: more singing, more dancing, more drugs, more talking animals, more of whatever Director Bong is serving—and make everything gayer.

We know this because, a few years back, the Letterboxd team asked one very simple question: what’s the highest-rated film of all time, when the criteria is that you must have seen it five or more times? Not the ‘guilty’ pleasures, not the ‘so-bad-it’s-good’ gems, but the already-excellent films that are also inherently rewatchable. The resulting top 100 from back then are all extremely, objectively good. What can we say—you have great taste.

Because 2020 is, well, 2020, we revisited this idea to see how four years and an endless quarantine might have changed things. The usual suspects have been rounded up (Christopher, Quentin, Ridley, Damien, David and company), but a lot has shifted in the Highest Rated Obsessively Rewatched Club for 2020.

The top ten in the 100 highest rated, obsessively rewatched films of 2020.

Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire is now top of the heap, where Spike Jonze’s Her was number one last time around. In fact, only Jaws and Carol remain from the last top ten. The Letterboxd community favors a wider world view: in 2017, the top 100 had only one film by a female director; in 2020 there are eight. The list has gone from exactly zero films entirely in languages other than English, to two (Portrait and Parasite), with several more containing a portion of non-English dialogue. Not quite leaping the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, but it’s progress. And, there is substantially more LGBTQ+ representation all round.

This year’s top 100 shows that we still like to return to the idea of the auteur, and the challenge of a franchise. In 2017, Christopher Nolan was the filmmaker with the highest number of highly rated, obsessively rewatched films; in 2020 Quentin Tarantino has taken the lead, just ahead of Nolan. Joining them in the multiple-titles group are Edgar Wright, Peter Jackson, Joe and Anthony Russo, epic-scale filmmakers from whom we’ve learned so much, and whose films have more to offer the viewer on every watch. (When ratings are not part of the equation, Avengers: Endgame—still with a respectable 3.9 average—was the Most Obsessively Rewatched title of 2019. “You give me someone flying, turning invisible, super speed… that’s where I live,” explains obsessive rewatcher Max Joseph this Letterboxd interview. “In Endgame, I get a little bit of every genre and mood.”)

Obsessed with obsession

What is “obsessive”? To put some kind of parameters around the search for this year’s top 100, our team looked for the feature films that had five or more rated watches from a minimum of 150 Letterboxd members each, then we sorted that list by the ratings of those members.

But that word—“obsessive”—got me thinking. Just how obsessive are we talking here? It’s reassuring to know that Parasite is, naturally, a film we enjoy returning to, but when we’re talking about rewatches plural, what happens when we sort these 100 highly rated titles by another value: the number of diary entries logged by these obsessive members. And what would that list say about our tendencies as watchers?

Spoiler: we also pulled those numbers, and found an entirely different top ten:

The most obsessively rewatched, highest-rated films of all time, as at 2020.

Look at that image. Compare it with the inarguable cinephilia of the ratings-based top ten, which soars on critical strength. What are we seeing here? That’s not the question. The real question is: what are we feeling? What do these ten films do to us so consistently, that helps them to retain high ratings across many, many, many rewatches?

You see, in the top 100, members typically log their favorites between five and seven times—but there’s a select handful of titles that see an average of up to 24 viewings per obsessive member. You read that right. There is a film on Letterboxd that multiple obsessive members have watched 24 times or more, at the time of writing.

Comedy that never gets old

The film in question is Jemaine Clement and Taika Waititi’s What We Do in the Shadows, a genre-smart mockumentary about three vampire housemates just, well, pure vibing. It’s entirely in a league of its own, no doubt helped by a spin-off series, with the next entry, The Lonely Island’s Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping racking up an average of 17.7 rewatches per obsessive member.

These top two most obsessively rewatched titles make sense. When you’re feeling low, or when there’s some time to kill, what better place to turn than somewhere where the jokes never get old? As James writes on Letterboxd, Shadows “never fails to make me laugh”. Never fails. Taking a chance on a new comedy harbors its risks, so when you find the ones that work, you have to hold onto them like gold dust. It’s the sense of familiarity that comes from the same sharp, self-aware sketches, the endlessly quotable one-liners and screenshots that make memes feel like works of art.

(On that note, I asked the team: what were the highest-rated, obsessively rewatched comedy specials? No surprises: Bo Burnham’s masterful 2016 Netflix special Make Happy, and John Mulaney’s Kid Gorgeous at Radio City. Comedy is good when it catches you off guard—but in a pandemic, it’s even better when you can rely on it to deliver that same rush of endorphins, every time.)

Thank you for the music

Speaking of pick-me-ups, ever notice how much better you feel after karaoke? Or, when you know everyone else has gone out so you can let rip across every inch of the house with ultimate privacy? The cathartic thrill that comes from a sing-along is what keeps our obsessive members returning to musicals, increasingly. There’s comfort in memorized lyrics; the words we yell and hold dear.

You’ve got this in Popstar (‘Finest Girl’, anyone?) and, crucially, in a double-bill of jukebox musicals celebrating ABBA’s greatest hits: Mamma Mia! and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again. With fifteen rewatches on average for the former, and almost seventeen for the latter, the sequel’s slight upper hand proves the film’s triumphant formula—there really is an endless supply of ABBA bangers—but also that the repurposing of the most pivotal tracks (‘Mamma Mia’ and ‘Waterloo’) will work even better the second time around, due to the familiarity, both of the songs and now their new-found purpose in this world.

The feeling of singing along with Lily James as Donna, as she dances around Paris with her young Harry, of latching onto Cher’s every breath as she reunites with the eponymous Fernando—these moments become part of our own memory, and the satisfaction that comes from performing them again and again never fades. It’s also why so many musicals are rewatchable staples. Singin’ in the Rain, Rocketman, Bohemian Rhapsody and Pitch Perfect all feature in the top 100.

Out of interest, I asked the team to lift the curtain on non-narrative music films to see which greats we return to. Again, zero surprise (to me, at least): Jonathan Demme’s transcendent Talking Heads concert film Stop Making Sense is, and has long been, the highest-rated, most obsessively rewatched concert documentary on Letterboxd. And it’s only been a few months, but the Disney+ filmed version of Hamilton is up there, along with Homecoming: A Film by Beyoncé. #BEYHIVE, come in.

Maybe we should trust love

At the other end of the spectrum, two titles in the most obsessively rewatched top ten point to our tendencies to find catharsis in our most extreme, most vulnerable expressions of emotion. Our two revealing films here are Love, Simon and Interstellar—one a grounded and sensitive coming-of-age picture of a teenage boy’s coming out, the other an epic space-travel thriller. Still, both films understand that, ultimately, love transcends all.

These films make room for us to revisit these most searing feelings, of love hidden, lost, afraid or universal, they let us cry out what we relate to, and escape into whichever onscreen emotions we prefer to project ourselves into beyond our own lives, time and time again. Because however much changes, you know you’ll always crave and be rewarded by love. (And by the existential exploration that often accompanies these big feelings: Don Hertzfeldt's World of Tomorrow is the highest-rated, most obsessively rewatched short film with Letterboxd members.)

Ink spots and needle drops

The idea of projection—of escape beyond our own lives—comes back often when thinking of the rewatch. But certain titles reveal how we choose to find escape in a quite literal form; observe the love for Tangled, rewatched on average ten times per obsessive member.

And then there’s Shrek 2, revisited on average 7.9 times (more on this bizarre, outstanding oddity on its own soon). The leap of faith into an animated world is one that offers a blank canvas painted over with new colors: the pastel pinks and soft peach oranges of sunset skies in Tangled, the rich purples and blues of the twinkling lights of the afterlife in Coco, the playful blue waters of Moana, with the sun giving everything a new glow. Animation works as relaxation here, clearing the mind and coloring it calmly time and time again. Elsa said it first: you can, and should, let it all go.

It is entirely probable, of course, that no Letterboxd parent is logging the Frozens—or any other animated family film, for that matter—as often as their household is actually watching them, the truth of which would completely upend this data. We know the math underpinning this whole exercise is somewhat arbitrary, but it’s an interesting starting point from which to analyze why certain things just work, again and again.

Take the oddity that is Shrek 2, deserving of its own dissection purely because of how masterfully it combines so many of the previously established elements. This film and its predecessor create so many vivid images that fit into the category of animated escapism, but music plays a major part, also. ‘Accidentally In Love’ by Counting Crows as Shrek and Fiona blissfully enjoy their honeymoon period; ‘Funky Town’ by Lipps Inc. as Shrek, Fiona and Donkey roll into Far Far Away; Jennifer Saunders as Fairy Godmother, with her sublime cover of Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Holding Out For A Hero’. There are too many perfect needle-drop moments to count, and every time the rewatch comes around, they feel new.

Add to the comforting visuals and euphoric music the countless one-liners, perfectly performed by Eddie Murphy and Mike Myers, but really, here, Rupert Everett as Prince Charming—a squirm-inducing, note-perfect pantomimic performance. Shrek 2 might just be the defining example of what makes a good movie the best movie, and one that only grows greater with every rewatch. Lucky us.

Festive fever

The inclusion of A Christmas Story, the second-last in our most rewatched top ten, makes sense when considering the times in our lives when we turn to movies for comfort (and discomfort: note the Hallowe’en-related rewatchables in the top 100). A Christmas Story might not be your first festive choice, but you will have your own equivalent. The Muppet Christmas Carol also made the top 100, with Elf, Love, Actually and the Home Alone movies bubbling under. We recognize all the beats, and seeing as the holidays return each year, it’s natural that we return to the titles that make us feel most at home within them.

Like Carol. Darling Carol. The last of our top ten most most most rewatched. Flung out of space into our eyeballs by Todd Haynes as some sort of Christmas miracle, its rewatchability as much seasonal as it is about love, representation, vintage glamor and that final scene. Let’s see where Happiest Season sits this time next year, shall we?

And so, what can filmmakers and distributors learn from what we want to see, not just once, but again and again? In just four years the list of titles the Letterboxd community has chosen to revisit and protect has blossomed with an open heart and feverishly enthusiastic mind.

Looking over the top 100 highest-rated, obsessively rewatched films in 2020, we want more queer love: Portrait, Moonlight and Carol but also Booksmart, The Favourite, Call Me by Your Name. We definitely need more singing and dancing: Suspiria, La La Land, Singin’ in the Rain, Mamma Mia and beyond.

We want more adventure, more time travel, more mind-melters, more drinking, exploring, investigating, more talking animals, more drugs, more laughs, more tears, more goosebumps. We want more full-body feelings of falling in love with a movie you know you’ll hold onto with everything you’ve got.

In the end, numbers can only tell us so much, and these numbers are drawn from what we’ve already seen, which is what’s already managed to make it through the system. There’s as much to learn from how these films were made as there is from what they’re about. Because, no matter how many AI tools people dream up to help with the green-lighting process, moviemaking is fundamentally about magic. And when all the right ingredients make it into the cauldron, the spell can be so strong that a film will win our hearts forever.

Related content

The Highest-Rated Obsessively Rewatched Club for 2020

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[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Quarantine Tag Game

Thanks @shaelinwrites for tagging me!

Ya girl is jetlagged and back in her hometown Toronto quarantining with the fam so this is perfect!

What would being self-isolated with your OCs be like? Which OC would you prefer to be quarantined with? Why?

For everyone from FOSTERED:

Reeve:

Living her best life, which is generally, the life she usually lives! She’s running baths and drinking martinis in them. She’s watching soap operas and clearing out every bottle of wine she owns. She’s using up those face masks she bought two years ago. Reeve is already a socially isolated person and enjoys being alone for the most part. She isn’t the most self sufficient but doesn’t really care about cooking, laundry, doing the dishes, so she’d probably live off almonds and the same bralette and sweats for 2 weeks lol (which! is! valid!). Though she’ll eventually get so lonely she’d probably seduce her neighbour from across her bedroom window and they’d have a silent long distance affair? Lmaoo I gotta write that.

Foster:

Actually the #1 person to be quarantined with. He’s testing out all the vegan recipes he’s been eyeing but hasn’t gotten to. He’s propagating plants and misting the others (just as a treat). He’s reading a book a day and writing letters to his friends to send at a later date. He’s donating to his local food bank and doing groceries for his neighbours who need it (and also supplying them with produce from his garden!!!). He’s picking up new hobbies (cross stitch? origami?) and brushing up on old ones (natural medicine, sudoku). He’s also checking in on his friends on the phone etc and catching up on the food network episodes that only play before 8AM that no one else but him watches. Foster’s good being on his own, but in a way never feels like that as he’s always connected in some way to those he loves (either through the things he does, makes, etc).

Harrison:

Having a good time for the first two days! Watching his stockpile of quarantine movies. Eating his quarantine snacks. Lazing on the couch with only socks on because he can. ABBA karaoke at all times. Dance parties to Beyoncé’s entire discography while he stirs up some instant ramen. Letting the phone ring out because he’s vibing! But then he runs out of DVDs and snacks. Things start getting repetitive. He’s down to his last box of smarties. He has no hobbies. He doesn’t cook. He hasn’t done the garbage in two weeks. He’s started answering the phone and in an unprecedented move—is now the person making all the calls! He’s blowing up his friend’s cellphones, landlines, Instagram DMs. Harrison’s the kind of guy who needs someone to be around. He likes being around people, so quarantine might get a little lonely. A little video chat won’t hurt!

Lonan:

Is living in a constant state of self quarantine. He’s just living as he usually does! Doing his tax returns. Washing the dishes. Drinking tea by himself and staring out a window. Parting his hair many times. Like his sister, he may also be inclined to start an affair with someone, but instead may impulsively reach out to an ex! Lonan is sort of self sufficient, meaning he can in essence take care of himself, but because of his mental health issues may not always, so not having somewhere there may make him feel a little lonely! He doesn’t reach out (unlike Harrison) so having a pal reach out to him, even if he doesn’t answer, will make him feel better.

Who I would quarantine with:

They all have their merits, but for a dash of calm and normalcy, Foster! He’s sufficient as heck, and is always down to make you tea or a batch of vegan scones at any hour of the day! He’s also quiet, so this could get a little boring lol. I’d choose Harrison if I wanted to have a little more fun! He’s a big fan of making every day a party, which can get a little exhausting, but also has his quiet moments. However! He’s not as self-sufficient and neither! am! I! And so for this reason the final answer is Foster—I’ll propagate his plants with him and then never take care of them again!

Stay safe, my friends! Socially distance but keep in contact with your pals! If anyone’s feeling lonely, anxious, confused (I been there) my messages/asks are always open. ❤️

[nomediaplay]

There’s a bunch of new questions in my inbox that I don’t think I can answer without ranting and being very condescending. Below are some

“Will you buy Jessica's book”

That’s extremely unlikely. First off because I basically only ever read various types of research papers and legal documents. Secondly because I doubt she’s able to understand enough of the bigger picture and has enough self-reflection to write something I’d find meaningful. Maybe she can, but I doubt it.

“Based on those RIAJ reports, will streaming take over Japan like it did with the rest of the world?”

I’d say it already has since long ago, at least among younger people. As I’ve ranted about before, the physical market in Japan is almost 100% about idols making fans buy CDs for other reasons than music. And it’s particularly held up by how idols hold huge amounts of events to which fans get “free tickets” if they buy CDs.

“You said that bgs have better physical sales because of fangirls, then why bigbang is not selling millions like exo and bts?”

Because no matter how stupid they are, most of BIGBANG’s fangirls are at least a lot older than EXO and BTS fangirls and therefor won’t spend their hard earned money on something so ridiculously dumb as buying CDs.

The real question you should ask is: Why are hordes of international girls who don’t speak Korean and who don’t have a CD-player buying millions of CDs from Korea???

And the answer to that is in how the big young international kpop following basically is like some huge retarded online cult that lives detached from reality and doesn’t care about facts, and instead basically just makes up whatever stuff they want to believe in. Obviously record labels are fueling this behavior as they make a ton of money from how fans spend money on dumb things. But it’s really fascinating how it’s largely the fans themselves who have created this absurd behavior.

“How is it possible that a girl group like Blackpink who sold 200k+ copies of their mini album with no fan signs, billions of views on yt, tons of exposure, a successful world tour and 20k attendance at their Seoul concerts can't even sell out their fan meeting?”

Again, you’re asking the wrong question. BLACKPINK is basically just some girls dancing to 5 autotuned Teddy-songs. I understand if lots of people find the songs to be awesome. But it’s 5 songs. And basically anybody could go up on stage and dance to them. So why would anyone pay for tickets to a BLACKPINK performance? The turn-out for their latest Korean concert seems like a fair turn-out reflecting how many people that logically should want to pay to see BLACKPINK (and as mentioned before: much of the audience at their previous Seoul concert had been given free tickets by companies sponsoring the event, and 20k seems exaggerated too for that matter).

So the real question you should ask is: “Why are hordes of international kpop fans paying money to see BLACKPINK dancing to some songs?” And of course the answer is again in how this international kpop following basically is an online cult.

“Do you know the difference between apple music and iTunes and which do I have to look at to know how a group is doing.”

Yes of course. ‘iTunes’ is Apple’s old download service where you purchase downloads. ‘Apple Music’ is Apple’s new streaming service where you pay a monthly subscription and then get to stream whatever music you want to listen to, exactly like Spotify (it just took them 7 years to copy Spotify).

Since no normal human would pay to purchase a download from iTunes, iTunes is completely irrelevant. Spotify and Apple Music are the charts you need to look at if you want to know what music people are listening to.

The only ones who buy downloads on iTunes are idiot fans who for some reason have convinced themselves that they must waste their money to make their faves top iTunes. And frankly, buying downloads from iTunes (or QQ etc) is even way more stupid than buying CDs from Korea. At least fangirls buying CDs could claim that they want the photobooks and cards in the CD package. The idiots that buy downloads from iTunes are just pissing away their money. Don’t even get me started on all the Chinese fans who uses VPNs to make their faves top the US iTunes chart.

“How big are the chances that super m will succeed in u.s.?”

The question is strange. The members already have lots of fans. From the perspective of Capital Records it seems a very simple and low-risk project to make money from their already existing fans buying shit.

And from the perspective of the members it seems like a good opportunity to get great US/worldwide promotions/exposure that will help them make more money from concerts and CF deals now and in the future.

As for if they could become actually mainstream music that people listen to, the answer is of course no.

“Does the labels in the west work the same shaddy and scheme ways as most korean labels/agencies? Is it better to no sign to a label and just stay independent and probably make more money given the bigger and more developed music markets?”

The western companies are of course just as ‘shady’ in many aspects, but your question is strange. Record labels, songwriters and performing artists all live in symbiosis.

Record labels make money by marketing and selling music.

Songwriters make money not only by royalties on music sales through record labels, but also from how much their songs are played in concerts, on TV, on radio, in clubs, at sport events, in karaoke bars, etc etc.

Performing artists mostly make money not from royalties on music sales, but by being paid to perform live at concerts and other events and by being paid for various types of CF/endorsement deals.

They all need each other. And if you’re a performing artists with ambitions to make it really big and get paid lots, it makes no sense to decline all the promotion/marketing you’d get by signing with a big record label early in your career. And particularly if you’re not also an awesome songwriter, because then you’ll need the help of some good A&R people to get you suitable songs.

The ‘problems’ of the idol industry (and this of course doesn’t just go for Korea, but even more so for Japan and China, and also applies to many of the big US/UK boygroups decades ago) is especially manifested in how idols are made to do endless promotions and free events to drive music sales (which the record labels make huge money from) instead of doing paid events (which the performing artists would make huge money from).

“It's teddy the richest producer in kpop? Because I always though he probably get paid better than most kpop idols.”

Again: the top performing artists make huge money from live performances and commercial deals, much more than anybody makes from songwriting or music sales. But performing artists who don’t make it big enough make absolutely zero money if they can’t get paid more for performances than what they’d have to spend on outfits/makeup/travel/assistants etc.

Teddy is indeed one of the Koreans who make most money from songwriting nowadays. But songwriting is very different to any normal jobs. Your income is passive royalties from how much your songs are used. Some songs continue to be used for a very long time and all over the world. Take for example the songwriting for ABBA. They continue to make lots of money today from 40-50 year old songs because they are still being used lots on radio, in TV, in musicals and with covers in concerts etc. There are obviously a lot of old Korean songwriters who have a huge catalogue of songs they’ve written that continue to make them money every year.

“Will the hallyu ban in China ever be lifted?”

Who knows. China being China. They’re just altogether weird with their one-party-state ruling everything but any horrible individual opportunistic capitalist behavior seems completely OK as long as you support the party-state enough.

“Do bgs members ever stop being fuckboys?”

It would probably be good for you to realize that all men by nature more or less has a biological instinct that says “if there’s a hole, then I should plug it”. Their actions are rather a result of opportunities and consequences. Most male pop-stars and actors have more or less endless opportunities and face no consequences.

[the-desolated-quill]

Quill’s Swill - The Worst Of 2018

Congratulations dear reader. You survived 2018. And you know what that means. It’s time for another best of/worst of list. Welcome to Quill’s Swill 2018. A giant septic tank for the various shit the entertainment industry produced over the course of the year. The films, games, TV shows and various other media that got on my bad side. As always please bear in mind that this is only my subjective opinion (if you happen to like any of the things on this list, good for you. I’m glad someone did) and that obviously I haven’t seen everything 2018 has to offer for one reason or another. In other words, sorry that Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes Of Grindelwald isn’t on here. I’m sure it is as terrible as some have been suggesting. I just never got around to watching it.

Okay everyone. Grab your breathing masks and put on your rubber gloves. Let’s dive into this shit pile.

Hold The Sunset

The news that John Cleese would be returning to the world of BBC sitcoms was incredibly exciting, being a massive Fawlty Towers fan and all. Unfortunately Hold The Sunset was not quite what I had in mind. It’s one of those rare breed of situation comedies that chooses to offer no actual comedy. It’s not a sitcom. It’s a sit. Like Scrubs or The Big Bang Theory.

An elderly couple plan to elope abroad only for Alison Steadman’s son to barge in, having left his wife, and forcing them to put their plans on hold. Hence the title ‘Hold The Sunset.’ It’s like a cross between As Time Goes By and Sorry, but if all the humour and relatability were surgically removed by a deadpan mortician. The characters are weak, the plots are thin on the ground and the humour (hat little of it there is) feel incredibly dated. The middle aged mummy’s boy is something that hasn’t been funny since the 90s. It’s an utter waste of great talent and what hurts even more is that this tripe is actually getting a second series. I can only assume the people watching this are comatose. Either that or there’s an epidemic of people in Britain who have lost the remote.

Avengers: Infinity War

Yes this is one of the worst movies of 2018 and no I don’t regret saying that one little bit. Avengers: Infinity War was fucking terrible. Period. There were too many plots and characters going on, which made the film hard to follow (and what staggers me is that the so called ‘professional’ critics have condemned movies for having too many characters and plots before. Spider-Man 3, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Batman vs Superman: Dawn Of Justice and even Deadpool 2. But because this is an MCU movie, it gets a free pass. Fuck off). The characterisation was weak due to sheer number of characters they try to juggle, resulting in characters coming off as one dimensional caricatures of themselves and scenes where characters such as Iron Man, Doctor Strange and Star-Lord sound completely interchangeable. The villain, Thanos, is a stupidly and poorly written villain, but that’s hardly surprising considering what a shit job Marvel have done building him up over the course of these 20+ movies. And let’s not forget that pisstake ending. A bunch of prominent Marvel characters die and it’s all very, very sad... except all these characters just so happen to have sequels planned, which makes this ending fucking pointless and have less impact than a feather on a bouncy castle.

I don’t know which is more shocking. That Marvel and Disney think their audience are that stupid and gullible, or that their audience are actually validating their view. Fuck you Disney.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

I’ve always wanted a Harry Potter RPG, where you could customise your character, choose your house and actually live a full school life at Hogwarts. This year, Warner Bros and Jam City gave us just that.

That was a mistake.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery is the epitome of everything that’s wrong with the mobile gaming market right now. The gameplay is boring and involving where you just tap images on a screen until a progress bar fills up. Wizard duels are little more than rock-paper-scissors challenges that require no kind of skill. Bonding with friends and caring for magical creatures just consist of pathetically simple pop quizzes and yet more boring tapping. Oh and of course you only get a certain amount of energy to complete these tedious tasks. If you run out of energy, you wait for it to fill up... or pay up for the privilege. So determined are they to extract your hard earned cash from your wallet, there’s actually a bit where Devil’s Snare strangles your eleven year old avatar and the game effectively tries to guilt trip you into paying micro-transactions to save them. It’s sleazy, gross and manipulative. Honestly, you’re better off just playing Candy Crush.

Agony

When the developers of this game said they wanted to give the player a trip through Hell, they had no idea how true that statement really was. Agony is dreadful on a number of levels. The design for Hell itself, while visually interesting at times, is often not very practical and gets quite dull and repetitive after a while. The stealth mechanics are a joke and the AI of your demonic enemies are pitiful. All of this alone would have been enough to put this game on the list, but then we also have the casual misogyny. Agony is a gorefest trying desperately to shock the player. We see men and woman get tortured, but it’s the women that often get the extreme end. The violence inflicted on them is often sexual in nature and the game seems to go out of its way to degrade and dehumanise women at every turn. The orgasmic cries of ‘pull it out’ quickly become a staple of the game’s experience as we see naked women raped, tortured and murdered, all for the purposes of ‘entertainment.’

I would call Agony sexist, but honestly that would be giving it too much credit. Agony is like a little child trying desperately to be all dark and edgy in a pathetic attempt to impress everyone around him, and we should treat it as such. Go to your room Agony. No ice cream for you.

Peter Rabbit

If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of Beatrix Potter rotating in her grave.

Yes we have yet another live action/CGI hybrid, but instead of something innocuous like the Smurfs or Alvin and the Chipmunks, Sony instead decides to adapt Peter Rabbit, with James Corden in the title role.

It’s about as bad as you’d expect.

Their attempts to modernise the story are painful to say the least with pop culture references, inappropriate adult humour and twerking rabbits. Plus rather than the gentle, but slightly mischievous character we got in the source material, here Peter is a sociopathic delinquent who seems to revel in making the farmer’s life a living hell. He’s unlikable and unwatchable as far as I’m concerned and the film doesn’t in anyway earn the emotional moments it tries so desperately to sell to the audience. And the worst part is it’s getting a sequel.

Wait. Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of Beatrix Potter tearing out of the ground, ready to kill whatever idiot came up with this shit.

Fallout 76

I was excited for Fallout 76. A MMORPG where players band together to rebuild society after a nuclear apocalypse. Could have been great. Pity it wasn’t.

Fallout 76 is a dreadful game. Not only is it a buggy, glitchy mess that requires a constant online connection to play, which could result in you losing hours of progress if your WiFi went down, it’s also unbelievably tedious, and that’s because there’s nothing to do in the game. There’s no other characters to interact with, the various robots and computers you come across are really little more than quest givers, there’s no actual plot so to speak, and because of the sheer size of the world and the number of players allowed on a server, the chances of you actually meeting any actual players is remote. And let’s not forget all the behind the scenes drama. Bethesda falsely advertising Fallout themed canvas bags and players getting shitty nylon ones. Bethesda accidentally releasing the account information of various players trying to get a refund for said bag. Bethesda failing to program the year 2019 into the game code, meaning that the game’s nukes don’t work.

Maybe there’s a chance that Bethesda could pull a No Man’s Sky and fix everything over the coming years with various patches and DLCs, but the damage has already been done. It’s incredibly disappointing. The Elder Scrolls 6 is going to have be fucking incredible to win everyone back.

Mama Mia!: Here We Go Again

I can’t stand jukebox musicals anyway, but Mamma Mia was always one of the worst. Its boring, meandering story with its one note, obnoxious cast of characters screeching out ABBA songs like they’re at some drunken karaoke session at some poor sod’s hen party has always grated on my nerves. So imagine my delight when they announced we were getting a sequel. Ever wondered how Meryl Streep met her three lovers and founded her hotel? No? Well tough shit, we’re going to tell you anyway.

Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again is basically just Mamma Mia again. The actors still can’t sing, the characters are still annoying and story is still boring and meandering, completely at the mercy of the chosen songs rather than the filmmakers using the songs to compliment the story (you know? Like proper musicals do?).

How can I resist you? Very easily as it turns out. Gimme, gimme, gimme a fucking gun so I can end my misery.

The Cloverfield Paradox

A lot of people were unhappy about the direction Cloverfield was going. They wanted a continuation of the found footage, kaiju movie from 2008, not an anthology series. I was personally all in favour. Partially because I thought the first Cloverfield was a tad overrated, but mostly because I thought it would be a great opportunity for more experimental film projects and could be a great launchpad for new writers and filmmakers. 10 Cloverfield Lane was a great start. Then The Cloverfield Paradox happened.

The Cloverfield Paradox is basically JJ Abrams trying to have his cake and eat it too. Maintaining the anthology format whilst connecting everything together in a ‘shared universe’ (yes, yet another shared universe). The result was a cliched, poorly edited and idiotic mess of a film that actually took away from the previous two films rather than added to them. Everyone hated it and, as a result, 2018′s Overlord, which was totes going to be part of the Cloververse, was made its own standalone film and Abrams double pinky promised to make a true sequel to the original Cloverfield. A complete and total disaster. No wonder it was a straight-to-Netflix film.

The Handmaid’s Tale - Season 2

This is probably going to be the most controversial entry on the list, but please hear me out because I’m not the only one who has a problem with this season.

I was reluctant to watch The Handmaid’s Tale simply because of how gruesome the original book was, but I forced myself to watch the first season and I thought it was pretty good. It remained faithful to the source material for the most part and included some nice additions that helped to expand the story and mythos. If it was just a one off mini-series, everything would have been fine. But then they made the same mistake as The Man In The High Castle and Under The Dome did where they commissioned another season and attempted to tell a story that goes beyond the book.

There’s a reason why the original story ended where it did. The Handmaid’s Tale isn’t meant to be an empowering story about women sticking it to the patriarchy. It’s a cautionary tale about how fragile our civil rights truly are and how easily they can be taken away from us. It’s designed to shock, not to satisfy. So seeing a handmaid blow herself up in a suicide bombing feels very incongruous and just a little bit silly. It would be like doing a TV adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 where the first season followed the source material and then the second season turned Winston Smith into this heroic freedom fighter trying to overthrow Big Brother. It would represent a fundamental misunderstanding of what the book was about in the first place.

And then of course there’s the increased level of violence in Season 2, which many have complained about. In Season 1 and the original source material, the violence was justified. In Season 2, the motivation behind the violence has gone from ‘how can we effectively demonstrate how easily a fascist patriarchy can happen in the West?’ to ‘what brutal act can we inflict upon Ofglen to shock the audience this week?’ It’s purely for shock and nothing more. And with the showrunner (who I feel I should mention is a man) announcing that he has planned ten seasons of this, it seems that The Handmaid’s Tale is going to go even further with this depravity until it effectively becomes the equivalent of a Saw film.

The Handmaid’s Tale exists as a way of shining light on and critiquing misogyny in its most extreme form. Season 2 however demonstrates that there is a serious risk of it becoming the very thing it’s criticising in the first place.

The Predator

I love the Predator franchise, but The Predator is the worst.

People thought that this would be good because director Shane Black had actually starred in the first Predator movie back in 1987. Instead we got this bloated, confusing, obnoxious and insulting mess of a film that seems to go out of its way to ruin everything that makes Predator so good. There’s no tension. No suspense. No intrigue. Just a bunch of gore, explosions and shitty one liners from annoying and lifeless characters. They essentially took this big alien game hunter from outer space and turned him into a generic monster from a bad summer blockbuster. It no longer hunts for sport. It wants to take over the world and splice our DNA with theirs. But don’t worry, a rogue Predator doesn’t want to kill humans (even though he himself kills a bunch of humans), so he gives us a Predator Iron Man suit to set up a sequel that will probably never happen because this movie was a box office bomb and it fucking SUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKEEEEEDDDD!!!

This film also has a very nasty streak towards those with disabilities. There’s a lot of jokes at the expense of a character with Tourette’s and it has an extremely ignorant and patronising view of autism, portraying the main character’s kid as being a super genius who can decipher the Predator language and even going so far as to say that he represents ‘the next stage of human evolution.’ Presumably the Predators want social communication difficulties because apparently it helps them hunt somehow.

What with Disney acquiring 20th Century Fox, the future of both the Alien and Predator franchises were very much in question. This film needed to be a success in order to make a case for Disney to keep making more of them. It wasn’t. Congratulations Shane Black. You might have just killed off this franchise for good. Thanks arsehole! :D

So those were my least favourite stories from 2018. Join me on Wednesday where we shall discuss something more positive. Yes, it’s awards season. Who shall win the coveted Quill Seal Of Approval? Watch this space...

Or don’t. It’s up to you. I don’t want to force you or anything. It’s a free country.