#so y'all get mediocre art instead :)

[yuzukult]

yours, but not yours 06 || csc & reader

title: yours, but not yours 06 pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, fake dating!au, bad influence!seungcheol, nice guy syndrome!namjoon, mechanic!seungcheol wc: 6.7k (1k per month i disappeared lol) warnings: profanity, mentions of sex a/n: ... hopefully y'all didn't forget me,, if this chapter is mediocre i am so sorry i'm trying my best here T_T i had to rewrite the chapter a couple times & ended up going with a different route (which may be slightly unexpected) but the series isn't over yet !! this is the calm before the storm ok

There’s nothing worse than being proven wrong.

It’s like when you’re a toddler, your mom tells you to not eat the spicy slice of pork belly, knowing very well that you wouldn’t be able to handle it but you still beg her anyways. Then when you’d finally get a bite, your face contorts into a pained one, desperately wishing that water would be more relieving to the tongue as it is to a house fire. Or like when your high school best friend told you to maybe not get involved with the guy who has quite the reputation, but your constant urge to break the rules practically drowns you, so you go for him anyway. Then, when he left you crying outside on his porch, beseeching him to come back after you clearly saw him cheating on you with that other pretty girl in your Art class with that cool hot pink dyed strip of hair, you’re yet proven wrong again, only to be running to your best friend’s house after you regained your senses.

This is probably another one of those times. And truthfully, maybe you’ve evolved, but there’s this part of you that wishes you’re wrong.

Seungcheol is definitely nothing close to what you’d ever expect to be your type. He’s not the traditional kind of guy—office job, either living alone and saving for a house or lives in a house he owns, has a car, wears business casual clothes on the weekdays, maybe even into different types of beers, occasionally plays a gaming console—instead, he’s a mechanic with a motorcycle and likes to flirt with you whenever he gets the chance. He favors the torn up and stained attire, despite having money (which… you’d only find out not too long ago) but he does love alcohol. Whiskey being on the top of his list; beer is more of an option for social events, he mentions it the one night he stayed late in the garage when you came down with two bottles in hand. “I had leftovers. They were gonna go bad if I left it any longer,” you said as you handed over the Miller Lite. He popped the cap off on the edge of the workstation, swapping it with you after, then opening his own in the same way. “Let’s not put it to waste.”

And here you are, two days after the event, groggily putting laundry into the washer with your head full of—you guessed it!—Choi Seungcheol.

The last encounter was left with you exiting his childhood bedroom with disheveled hair, wet panties, and awkwardly adjusting the fabric of your dress. No phone call to follow up, no text—nothing. Fucking radio silence.

How does someone fucking rail you into the mattress, whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, then claim you as their own and suddenly just go off the grid right after? You didn’t see him for the rest of the night, and when you went back to Rowoon, he didn't interrogate you on your relationship with Seungcheol after he shut him up. The whole thing was eating you up inside to the point that you were fucking wishing that Rowoon would ask, just to have a soundboard for this dilemma.

Was that the finale of it all? Is this the end of You & Seungcheol: The Not-So Love Story? He hasn’t even been back to the garage yet, and it’s got you pondering why he didn’t even bother to send a fucking text. A text! It’s not that hard to send a text.

But maybe this is what that whole “karma” thing people keep talking about—what goes around comes around, right?

You groan. Slamming the door shut, you pull out the dispenser drawer of thr washing machine aggressively. Just like when he pushed you against the wall that night, knee shoving your legs apart as he looked at your lips with furrowed brows. You couldn’t help but grip onto his biceps—he was so thick in that shirt, hugging every curve of his body in waves you didn’t know would leave you breathless from the sight. How is he so hot when he’s angry? He didn’t even have a right to be, you weren’t his (even though he continuously thrusted his hips into yours, heated breath against your neck with the word, “mine,” constantly falling off his tongue effortlessly), but god he was good at convincing you that you were.

You shake your head. Fuck! This is frustrating. Not sexually frustrating, (you’re lying, that’s definitely part of it), but frustrating in the fact that you don’t know where this leaves you. Are you still fighting? Do you make up? What… now? And why the fuck do you keep finding yourself asking the same goddamn fucking question with him?

Nearly overflowing the compartment for the detergent, you quickly grab a wet rag to wipe off the excess that spills as you mutter a couple curses underneath your breath. 

He’s got you in a chokehold; how is it that a guy who wasn’t even on your fucking radar suddenly the only one you can think about? Even when you’re vacuuming your living room, you don’t even recall grabbing it from the closet. All you have infiltrated your mind is Choi Seungcheol. 

Honestly, you’re a dick.

For one, you’re finally coming to your senses that disregarding Seungcheol’s feelings isn’t fair. He’s been nothing but helpful the entire time you’ve known him; last month, he replaced your windshield wipers when he noticed the rubber was tearing off. He ended up pulling out the weeds from the front of your house after the awkward attempt to water them, and not to mention, he came up to your home when he heard a screech (you’re afraid of cockroaches, and you didn’t admit it even after Seungcheol killed it with a flip flop). 

But who really is the dick here? He hasn’t called you, texted you, or anything really. Quite literally have given you the post-nut clarity you needed, only for him to ghost you.

To fucking ghost you! The guy who said he’s head over heels for you, swooning all your friends into believing he’s your boyfriend, and well—also pretending to be your boyfriend, even when he knows what the consequences for it are. 

Then again, who cares… right? He’s just some buff mechanic, a fuckboy, and a tenant.

(You almost used the “tenant” excuse to text him, but you hold yourself back and don’t. Only because when the 25th rolls around, you actually have to ask him for rent.)

As you’re making your bed, throwing the sheets up to float down and align with the mattress, your phone rings.

At first, you think it’s your mom, so you let it ring for a little. She has the tendency to never pick up the phone, and although you never have the audacity to ignore her call, you let it ring a couple times out of pure pettiness.

That is, until you realize it’s actually Seungcheol’s name on the lockscreen.

“Hey,” he greets; it’s a mixture of uncertainty and excitement, probably because he knows what he did wrong in terms of leaving you hanging but he misses hearing your voice. “Um, how are you?”

“Not great.”

“Oh? What’s wrong?”

You roll your eyes, despite him not being able to see the action right now, he could feel the burn through the phone. “Actually, don’t answer that. I know, I—”

“What happened?” You snap, pacing in your bedroom. “You fucking told me that you were anything but a fuckboy, and the moment that I let myself be vulnerable, you just leave me hanging? What the fuck was that? Am I just wasting my time with you, Seungcheol?”

It stings.

Of course, everything with you stings. In both a good and a bad way, the words you say always seem to ache, tighten, and sting his chest, all from a variety of emotions you spew out so transparently. You’re so real and raw in the way that if he fully commits to you, that’s it—he’s done. There’s no going back to the lifestyle he had before, no fucking around and dicking around.

And as scary as that is for him, hearing that it’s with you, he’s okay with it.

But he’s now in the position where he doesn’t know how to make that happen. Not after all the current events.

“I got caught up,” he says, unable to even believe himself despite it being completely true. The night of the event, you found yourself scrambling out of his bedroom after sex and his dad called about some emergency with the company—Seungcheol has been in Malaysia since. “I really wanted to call and text—really, I just… didn’t know what to say.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Anything would’ve sufficed. I don’t know where that leaves us now. I’m trying, Seungcheol, I admit I was a jerk for disregarding your feelings and never taking you seriously. But when you pull a stunt like this, it doesn’t really make me believe that you’re not just setting me up.”

He stays silent for a moment; you could almost hear the ringing in your ears from the quietude, and you wonder what’s going through his mind. 

“Seungcheol?”

“Yeah,” he says breathily. “Yeah, I—I’m still here.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Can you—Can you take off? Just the Friday. Can I get you on a plane on Thursday night, and you come meet me for the weekend? My treat.”

Choi Seungcheol never really lived an average life.

It all really started when his mom met his dad back in college; this innocent, bowl-cut boy with the thickest glasses of the century, eyesight nearing partial blindness had a crush on the prettiest girl in his economics class. His reputation was practically nonexistent other than for the fact that he looked nerdy, and hers was being… almost every positive adjective in the book. He’d gather the courage to ask her out, expecting a rejection, only for her to turn his way, those chocolate irises sparkling underneath the hallway lights while she said the word that was opposite to his predictions. Yes.

She stuck with him through all of college—even though she had a line of suitors waiting for her, she was always in love with the reputable nerdy boy. Despite what people thought of him, Seungcheol’s dad never failed to make sure she felt loved and supported through the entirety of their relationship. Even when he had these big goals to build a company from the ground up, he kept her as his priority and that never changed.

It’s a love story for the ages, one that his mom reiterated as she tucked Seungcheol into bed during his youth, but he didn’t quite resonate with it because how could someone like his dad be the one to make his mother swoon in that way? The man who sat at the end of the dining table, reading glasses at the tip of his nose even after getting lasik to rid himself of those stocky lenses, physically there but not… present.

Even now, as he’s sitting beside his father at his hotel room’s dining table, he still doesn’t feel him.

But to be fair, can anyone find comfort in a room full of stone tiles, high ceilings, and a chandelier that probably costs more than the average car times eighty?

“Tell your brother that he’s coming tomorrow,” he says, eyes never leaving the screen of his iPad. His father has since graduated from a newspaper to a tablet. “He has a presentation Friday, and he needs to rehearse everything he says. Can’t believe he fucked up the last one.”

Seungcheol sucks his cheeks. He clicks send on the message meant for his brother, feeling more and more like an assistant than someone who was next in line for the throne of the company. “Aight. Sent. Why am I here, by the way? You just so happened to drag me here? I thought there was a company emergency.”

He finally puts down his tablet. “There is. I’m dying.”

Seungcheol’s heart drops. “You’re… dying?” 

“Well, not that I’m sick—god forbid, but you never know when I’ll die.”

That pretty much explains the origin of the majority of Seungcheol’s traumatic childhood.

“Dad, I don’t think it works like that,” he retorts with the quirk of his brow. “I thought it was a literal emergency. I left—”

“What? The garage? Come on, don’t act like I don’t know. I keep tabs on all my children—like right now, your brother is at his girlfriend’s house. The one he has yet to introduce to us, and in fact, I don’t think I like her.”

Seungcheol’s face contorts in confusion. He knows his dad like the back of his hand; if he didn’t know about the garage, Seungcheol would’ve been surprised. It’s almost an expectation that he would track both Seungcheol and his brother, and truthfully, it wouldn’t be totally out of character if he was tracking Seungcheol’s mother either. 

“You’re always pressuring us to get married and run the company—isn’t him having a girlfriend just him going the right route? I’un get it. Isn’t that enough?”

Maybe that’s why Seungcheol only had flings; the girls weren’t ever disappointed in sex, and they never stuck around enough to figure out that he carried so much baggage. The wealth in his pockets might’ve been the reason for the hearts in their eyes (and his dick), but if they knew the weight of expectations from his parents that came with it, they’d run in a heartbeat. He didn’t want to bring anyone close enough that they’d meet his family, have to deal with the burdens he did, and it’s mostly why he’s been hesitant about telling you… everything. Even when he wanted to.

“I wanted him to date that girl, the one whose father owns KS Bank.”

Of course, everything loops back into business.

“Well,” Seungcheol begins, getting up from his seat. “He’s happy. Regardless if his girlfriend is a stripper or her dad owns KS Bank. If you want both of us to run the company, we should at least come home to a companion that we love and care for, shouldn’t we?”

His dad returns to his iPad, adjusting his glasses once again. “It’s not beneficial for the family business.”

Deja Vu hits—that same feeling he got when Namjoon swung at him returns, except the courier this time is his own father.

But just as he reacted with Namjoon, he remains cool. 

Seungcheol probably rehearsed it a million times in front of the mirror, all the possible things he could say to refute his father’s beliefs. If his brother wasn’t in love with the girl he’s supposed to marry, sure, her status would definitely benefit the company, but… would he even want to help out anymore? Isn’t his happiness the priority?

Nonetheless, he knows that fighting back isn’t worth it. 

Instead, he figures channeling that energy toward you would be more productive.

Although, with the last encounter the two of you had, it’s a bit doubtful he’d be able to achieve anything from being miles apart. For one, asking you to come see him when he had absolutely no plan whatsoever on what would happen when you arrive is… bold. Not to mention, you rejected his offer, saying something along the lines of, “that’s not how asking for forgiveness works,” and “things don’t get resolved on some ‘vacation high,’ Choi Seungcheol.”

And by all means, you’re 100% right.

This is an entirely new territory for him—he’s never actually had to ask or beg for forgiveness before because quite frankly, he never cared to. Burning bridges wasn’t a new concept for him, it was something he frequents. His mom never seemed disappointed, so he never felt the need to be apologetic, even if he felt the guilt, the words never emitted. Or when his father made that signature displeased ‘tsk’, Seungcheol had always been below the expectation that forgiveness wasn’t even worth chasing after. 

But you—this experience with you, is a whole other thing.

That guilt gnaws on his insides brutally; he could physically see the impact that you have on him from his disheveled hair, bags underneath his eyes, and the sullen look on his face. Do you hate him? Do you want nothing to do with him? Did he ruin all his chances with you?

He’s never really had a serious relationship before—well, rephrase, Seungcheol has only ever had one serious relationship. “The Classic Couple,” was what they were called; they were the pair that the wealthiest parents would arrange for their children. The only thing wrong with them was that they didn’t work—or well, Seungcheol couldn’t make it work.

With a click of his tongue, reality settles in. If he really wants this, truly feels like there could potentially be more with you, then he has to make it work. This isn’t like the woman before you, you’re… you. Whether or not it lasts forever or just a couple months, he likes you—shouldn’t that be enough? Especially when you’re finally opening the door and hearing him out, stepping out of your own comfort zone? 

“I’m gonna head back home then, since it seems like I’m not needed here,” Seungcheol says, grabbing his phones with a soft ‘thanks’ to the staff as they clear the plates. “I’m sure you two can handle things from here. If there really is an emergency—”

“You should’ve stayed with that girl,” Seungcheol’s dad interrupts, infamously cutting him off as usual. “The girl you dated a couple years ago. Margaret.”

“Maeri,” Seungcheol corrects. “Her name’s Maeri.”

And for the first time, his father’s lips curl into a smile. “So, you remember her.”

“Well, we dated for a while.”

“Shouldn’t have lost her,” he says, inhaling deeply. “I think I can reach out to her father and make an agreement. I’m sure she’d be happy to have you again. I ran into her at the banquet and when I brought up your name, her face lit up.”

Seungcheol stares at his father in disbelief. “Again, I feel like we should have more control over who we end up with, not you. I’m more than happy to try assisting you with whatever it is you need but I should be the one who chooses who I want to be with.”

“And? You chose her before, you can choose her again.”

Seungcheol quits this time, reminding himself again that he needs to preserve his energy for you.

There are a mixture of emotions that are flowing inside of you, eagerness and confusion, unsure of which to display. Do you showcase your excitement and elation or do you express the frustration and annoyance? Normally, it doesn’t really matter which you decide to promote; it’s only because this time, your reaction will result in what happens next.

Seungcheol sits on the hood of your car; in a leather clad jacket that hugs his arms so tightly, you’re almost tempted to spill an insult from between your lips on how he should get a size up (even though you most definitely can’t even stop staring), hair slicked back, and baggy black jeans, it’s the signature look of practically every label that Namjoon had given him. Seungcheol doesn’t say a word—instead, he watches you attentively, trying his best to determine what the expression on your face depicts. 

He can’t quite tell what you’re thinking. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, finally shattering the silence. “Get off my car.” You don’t really mean that, you like him here, and the fact that he’s back, still himself with that smirk on his face, only comforts your heart.

“Come on, baby,” he calls out, ignoring your sharp words with his fingers barely grasping onto yours, tugging you in close. The pet name that’s disgusting from a stranger is somehow sweet when it slips off his tongue, luring you in like some hypnosis spell. “You don’t miss me?”

Of fucking course you do—if it’s one thing that you admit, it’s that you were wrong about him. He’s not what those labels people whispered through the grapevine, completely different from an unattached, apathetic guy who doesn’t want anything that lasts longer than a night. 

But you’re not gonna let him know that. At least, not that easily.

“No,” you retort through your gritted teeth, almost as if it’ll filter the insincerity of that response. “What’s there to miss?”

His hand slips into yours, interlocking your fingers before pulling you nearer. “Everything. Was it quiet down here? Were you lonely? Did it feel weird not to see my motorcycle out front? Or the garage open? What about my company? I know you hate the way I chew on gum, but I’m sure you missed hearing it in the background.”

You chew the inside of your cheek.

He’s so cute, and you feel like an idiot for being another girl that ends up on the list of falling for his irresistible charms. 

“I felt like a one-night stand, Seungcheol,” you confess, his full government name slipping off your tongue with bitterness that hits his ears. He couldn’t get a pet name out of you, but his nickname is enough and his smirk is wiped from his face within seconds. “We fucked then you suddenly pick up a phone call then I just—I never hear from you again.”

“I admit that it didn’t help my case,” he sighs, pushing himself off your car. You’ve got your arms crossed against your chest, a shield to protect yourself from him. “And I can fully explain.”

He starts off with his dad—this cold, distant man somehow ended up with a woman that’s the opposite. Underneath that hard facade, he’s a father who wants his two sons to run his business, only that neither of them inherited the drive to push the company the way that he does himself. 

“… That night that I left, I didn’t come back to the party ‘cause my dad made it seem like the company was goin’ under,” he discloses, deciding that now, he isn’t going to hide anything from you anymore. “I thought I had to go into this big board meeting with my brother and sign off to sell shares of our company ‘cause my dad fucked up or something.”

You roll your lips. There’s a bit of regret for making him feel bad, but it doesn’t discount how he made you feel either. “And then?”

“It was some stupid trap,” he groans, shaking his head. “He’s really good at doing that ‘we’re blood,’ guilt scheme. But uh, listen… I don’t expect you to forgive me or for this to fix up overnight.”

“Then what do you expect?”

“Honestly, um,” and for a moment, he pauses before chuckling. “I really contemplated asking you to be my fake girlfriend. My dad has this thing where he’s constantly trying to set me up with other women—”

The fronts of your brows shift together.

“—but,” Seungcheol adds, hoping you pause your thoughts from going in a direction where you’d stray from him. “To me, there’s just you.”

You blink blankly. “And what does that mean for us then? Where do we go from here?”

He slowly eases his arms to wrap around your waist, hesitant in his movements to confirm that you’re okay with his touch, only to then feel the anxiety lift from his shoulders when the weight of your arms replaces it. “We can… fix us. If you can push aside all the prenotions you’ve had of me, view me as someone that could be your boyfriend, then I want this if you do.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks; Seungcheol always manages to make your heart skip in its beats and cause that churning in the pit of your stomach. “Okay… but—” his smile fades the moment the second word appears, “—but we have work to do. You can’t exactly say we started off on the right foot.”

That stupid grin pulls on his lips once again as he settles back down onto the hood of your car, legs parting for you to sit yourself in his thigh, arms never leaving your frame. “I agree, pretty. I’m ready to do this when you are.”

And with a soft kiss planted on your nose, the comfort and warmth it brings makes you feel like this… is right.

Seungcheol admits that within the last month, his life has been pretty mundane in comparison to what he’s used to.

For one, he hasn’t received a call from his parents. Maybe they’re way too occupied to be concerned about him or that there wasn’t enough going on for him to tag along for, but all he knows is that it’s been radio silent on their end. Plus, the garage has been rather busy lately—he credits you for the increase in foot traffic, recalling how you rolled your eyes and snatched his phone from his hands on a Saturday night lounging on your couch, muttering “how are you supposed to get any business if you don’t advertise yourself?” Truthfully, he’s been banking on word-of-mouth from your neighbors that found out he does car maintenance, but this newfound array of customers isn’t so bad.

He likes the simplicity of this—in the mornings, he’d get to the garage early in the morning and park his motorcycle right by your steps. Pushing the overhead door with a rumble, he’d brush his hands off from the dirt residue left on the rubber at the bottom before placing his hands on his waist to take a good look at his shop—yes, his shop. He’d gotten so accustomed with calling it a literal garage that he forgets that it’s really a shop. Brew a pot of coffee, turn on the little TV he got for waiting customers (really, it’s for himself) before he got to business.

Then, around 6PM, you’d be back from work, dragging your legs up the steps into your home and he’s behind shortly after closing up. He enjoys how domestic everything with you is—cooking dinner together, eating dinner together, and then washing the dishes with one person scrubbing and the other rinsing before settling onto the couch to watch something on TV. Last night, you suggested, “King the Land,” which he normally isn’t a fan of watching K-Dramas, but with you, he finds anything entertaining.

Although the old version of himself wouldn’t ever confess this but… he likes being a boyfriend.

Maybe it’s just specifically that he likes being your boyfriend, considering in his last relationship, he didn’t favor that title as much. But now, he finds himself getting a little giddy inside when you introduce him in that way, almost like little kids get when their crush approaches them.

There’s something about the way you’ve given him a spot in your dresser for him to leave his spare clothes in case he unexpectedly stays the night, and how there’s a toothbrush residing in the cup beside yours, or even the fact that you’ve bought another set of slippers that’s just for him… it makes him feel more at home than at his own home. Seungcheol didn’t sleepover during his wave of late night escapades, but with you, he finds that the left side of the bed unspokenly assigned to him is something he didn’t know he craved for.

Seungcheol loves it. He loves all of it. And truthfully, if he didn’t catch himself before spilling it, he would’ve said he loves you, too.

Today is slightly different than usual, deciding that he would leave the estate earlier (and weirdly enough, living under the same roof as his parents didn’t tempt them from bugging him recently, but they did live on the opposite side of the home) so he could stop by the local coffee shop and grab you a cold brew.

You’re so pretty when you look surprised to see him outside your front door thay morning.

“Hey gorgeous,” he greets, that cheesy smile never leaving his face. You grimace at the term of endearment, but your expression juxtaposes how you feel inside. “I thought you’d like a change of pace and enjoy something from the cafe instead.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, grabbing the drink from his hands. “Vanilla?”

“Three pumps. Just how you like it, baby.”

You’re still so awkward when he says things like that—it used to be so easy to roll your eyes and push him away when he’d do it in such a sleazy way. But now, knowing the genuinity behind the words, he leaves you flustered. Even if he’s annoying and it’s the grossest thing he’s ever said.

“I have about six appointments today,” Seungcheol reaches over to open the lid of his black coffee, the steam rising from the paper cup. “You said you had a doctor’s appointment? So you’ll be back earlier?”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, zipping up your backpack. “I’ll grab lunch for us?” And shortly after, he watches you drive away to work before getting back to the garage so he could greet his next client.

If this is what it’s like to be part of the working class, Seungcheol could get used to this.

He acknowledges that ever since the two of you had resolved your issues, he got a bit carried away. Investing in his makeshift shop has become a whole ordeal, only because the constant drilling, clanging, and unnecessary constructing noises from the equipment installers weren’t exactly what he thought was going to come out of it for the first two weeks—but the realization that he could grow his business from the new customers made him excited. For the first time, Seungcheol felt like he was doing something he was proud of.

So yes, driving or walking by this garage in the middle of a city suburb underneath a house with a whole jacking up station for cars looks futile, but the abnormally high ceilings of your garage should be taken advantage of.

He likes this—beneath a car, pushing aside the plastic tray from this 2018 Honda Accord after unscrewing it and unplugging the drain plug before it falls into a bucket he uses as an oil receptacle. This is nice. This is calming. There’s no hollering from board members, no backhanded compliments from his father, and no attempts on pressuring him into doing things he doesn’t want to do like date a girl whose father has a monopoly on owning property the next town over.

Seungcheol just wants to watch a gallon of old oil release from a crankcase and into a bucket.

And honestly, he thinks his thoughts have spoken too soon when he notices a Rolls Royce Boat Tail pull into your driveway.

He hasn’t met everyone in your life, but one thing he knows for sure is that even the wealthiest people you know (Namjoon and Yubin) don’t flaunt their money in front of you. The rest of your friends are middle class, average working people, and the only way someone is driving to your home with a $28 million car is if they’re part of his life.

“Choi Seungcheol,” the person calls out; the door is shut behind him with a thud, Louis Vuitton sunglasses sitting comfortably on his nose with his long brunette hair combed away from his face. He dresses in a flamboyant shirt, the first couple buttons unraveled, and in sandals that cost four times your car. “I heard you do mods over here.”

Seungcheol comes out from the garage, brows furrowing when he realizes who makes an attendance at his shop. Juxtaposing in a stained white tank and the upper half of his overalls tied around his waist, for a moment, he felt like the two of them were part of two different worlds. “Yoon Jeonghan–do you really think you want to mod your car? Do you even know what that means?”

Jeonghan takes off his shades and slides it into his shirt pocket. “Absolutely not, I heard some guy mention it in a movie once,” he grins cheekily. “So, I heard you got a new place.”

“Well, I’m renting a garage.”

Jeonghan blinks blankly. “What’s renting?”

Seungcheol chuckles, walking back to his station as Jeonghan follows in suit. “It’s when you pay someone to use their space,” he grabs a rolling chair from behind a desk and gestures to Jeonghan for him to sit down. “What’s up? What are you doing here? You didn’t come here to get a lesson on renting.”

“I’m more surprised that you don’t own this place,” Jeonghan stares at the chair skeptically before glancing over at Seungcheol who points to it again. “And… not owning any new furniture.”

“It’s an autoshop, Hannie.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t afford clean chairs.”

“Alright, alright,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes, grabbing a rag to wipe the opening for any residual oil. “You come here to lecture me about my place or are you here with an actual reason?”

His friend sighs, finally deciding to plop onto the old swivel chair. “I know you briefly told me that you’re ready to move on from your parents…”

Seungcheol scrunches up his face, grabbing a cylindrical tool from off his cart as he eyes Jeonghan carefully. “Something like that, yeah.”

“And rumor has it, your dad hasn’t been happy about your brother and his new girlfriend.”

“I wouldn’t say new, but my dad has been acting new about her.”

“Well, he’s been making moves to target you instead.”

The tool wraps around the oil filter, and with a bit of strength, it loosens as more oil spills from the sides, flowing into the bucket in unison with Jeonghan’s news.

“He’s targeting me? Stop being so ominous and go straight to the point.”

“Maeri’s back,” Jeonghan finally spills, and Seungcheol pauses in his movements. “Your dad met up with hers the other day—I have this bad feeling he’s gonna try to set something up.”

Out of all the people that Seungcheol has met through his parents and from their “community” (aka the rich people cult), Jeonghan is the only person he trusts. Although Jeonghan will never cut ties from his generational wealth, his loyalty as friend and unconditional support for Seungcheol has always been admirable.

“I mean, he hasn’t called me and—”

“Hey! I’m back! I brought—” you stop in the middle of your driveway, staring at the car you could never afford in your lifetime before looking at Jeonghan and Seungcheol. “I—Oh, uh, hey.”

Jeonghan grins mischievously, stealing a glimpse of Seungcheol then back at you. “Hey, I’m Jeonghan. Seungcheol’s friend.”

You mimic his smile, and something in Seungcheol eats him up whole because he’s quick to speak before you do. “Jeonghan meet—” he says your name, then for a brief pause, he calls you by a label so confidently, he even surprises himself. “—my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. He hears Pomp and Circumstance play inside of his head, the image of him receiving his diploma at the podium while in a cap and grown flashes before his eyes. Choi Seungcheol has finally graduated from the school of fuckboys, reaching that point in his life where he looks at the prettiest girl who manages to make his stomach tie into knots and call him his—truly his. 

“Wow,” Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “Your girlfriend? Insane. I thought you said you weren’t gonna settle.”

He shrugs with that smirk on his face. “Wasn’t. But when you meet a girl like her, who are you to say no?”

Your cheeks heat up as you place the bag of food on the coffee table. “It’s uh… nice to meet you. I didn’t know Seungcheol had friends other than the girls he met at the club.”

Seungcheol shoots a glare but Jeonghan snickers. “I like you already,” he compliments, hand sliding into the pockets of his shorts. “I actually came to convince Seungcheol to attend a fundraiser that my mom is hosting this weekend,” the look Jeonghan gives his friend for a brief moment is suspicious, but the next inquiry gives it away. “… You should come too! Be his date.” 

“Oh, um—”

“I’m not sure about that, Hannie,” Seungcheol interrupts, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t think she’d want to see that part of our lives.”

Jeonghan quirks a brow. “And why not? She’s dating you, right? I’m sure she can answer for herself, and I’m sure she wants to see that side of you and your family.”

Both Seungcheol and Jeonghan divert their attention to you.

“You know, you didn’t have to say yes to Jeonghan,” Seungcheol’s standing outside of your bedroom door, leaning against the wall while waiting patiently for you to get dressed. “It’s a whole thing if we go—it ain’t like going to a work party.”

“Well, he—he made a, ugh,” you grunt, and he could hear you shifting inside with a struggle. “He made a point, if I’m dating you, I’m dating all of you.”

“Baby, why are you getting ready in private again? You’re acting like I haven't seen all of you.”

“I’m just—gah,” you knock your foot into the bed frame and wince. “I feel awkward.”

Truthfully, ever since the two of you had made it official, things haven’t… escalated, ironically. The nights he sleeps over are all pure and innocent; he’d nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, shower you with kisses, and wrap his arms around you to pull you close, resting your head on his chest. 

But that was it.

Nothing more.

He hasn’t asked for it or initiated it, mostly because he’s slightly afraid you’d take it the wrong way but quite frankly, he’s been holding himself quite a bit. From when you come out the shower, the thin oversized shirt that hangs from your body is no match for your nipples protruding through the thin fabric, how you bend over to grab something and your sleeping shorts barely covering any skin, and there was even a time where you’d reach over his lap to grab something, breasts brushing against his thighs and ass up, he was wrestling with his sweatpants to hide his raging boner.

Trying to be a respectful gentleman, he keeps his distance. Normally, he’d be bold in his attempts to sway you—just as he did several times, including that night in his bedroom back at home, but now that you’re his girlfriend, it… feels inappropriate?

Weirdly enough?

A part of him is afraid you’d leave, especially when he’s got you now, but he admits that those cold showers aren’t doing any favors for him anymore.

“…Hey,” you call out again, this time it halts his train of thoughts with the door swinging open. Clutching onto the fabric of your dress in the front, his eyes immediately focus on your cleavage. Fuck. “The zipper is kind of low. Can you help me?”

He swallows that brick inside of his throat when you turn around.

Pushing your hair aside, you give him a view of your entire back. The zipper latch is right where your ass curves, and with a sharp inhale, he places a hand on your waist before pulling it up. It feels brutally slow, not to mention when he reaches up higher, he realizes where he expects your bra—there isn’t one. The smoothness of your skin is exposed and his dick twitches in his pants.

“Uh, um. I’m done,” he steps back, clearing his throat. “Ready?”

He feels like a vacuum sucked the air out of his lungs.

To him, you’re gorgeous all hours of the day. But something about today, in that tight fitting dress that hugs the outline of your body so well, and the makeup you applied only amplifies your beauty. He can’t help himself when he’s sneaking glances at your chest then back up to your eyes to the point he needed to get the fuck out of the house before he oversteps a boundary.

“Wow, uh, you look great!” Way to act natural. “Let’s uh, let’s head out.”

“Mkay,” you make your way before him to the front door, rummaging through the closet for your heels, and he turns away when your ass sticks out while you slip on your shoes. “Can you start the car?”

It’s going to be a long night.

← last chapter | next chapter →

[wayslidecool]

how do y'all feel about Blaseball Story Time, because i saw fan art of Fish Summer in a Georgias jersey and it got me thinking about the Georgias' quest to have a Hot Fish Summer. putting this all under the cut because it's a Long Story

so! the Georgias are a new team, and we are Not Very Good. we aren't that keen on trading our players, but after a few seasons with little in way in results, it's clear that we're gonna need to if we ever want to get ahead. thankfully, it didn't take a lot of time for us to find a player that most Georgias fans could agree on: Fish Summer.

there was a lot we liked about Fish Summer. obviously, the name and theming were on point for us, but they were also a notably minmaxed player, with some of the best batting in the league, but really low stats in everything else. this might not sound attractive on paper, but with the Equivalent Exchange will in play, it meant that we wouldn't have to give up one of our best players if we wanted Fish to join our team, letting us give up a mediocre player in favor of one who would be a massive boon to our lineup.

still, we were a bit hesitant -- Fish Summer was on the Moist Talkers at the time, and Talkers fans were very attached to Fish. we wanted to maintain good relationships with the rest of the league, and if we stole a Team's fan-favorite player, what would the chances be that they'd just reverse the trade in the next election? fortunately for us, a wimdy would send Fish from the Talkers to the Crabs, and we decided that would be our time to strike. we put up our Season 16 voting guide, encouraging fans to trade Mordecai Kingbird for Fish Summer.

unfortunately, the Georgias were very prone to weird wimdy trades at the time, and instead of trading Mordecai for Fish Summer, we traded him for Montgomery Bullock, a pitcher from the Fridays who couldn't bat to save their life. we didn't particularly care for Monty, so when the end of the season rolled around, we traded them off to the Crabs in order to finally enjoy a Hot Fish Summer. this trade would be intercepted by the Crabs however, who put in a wimdy vote that would trade Fish for Wyatt Mason IV (aka Ivy), a Tacos pitcher who also couldn't bat to save their life. hilariously, this triple-trade left all three players involved in a position they absolutely sucked at, benefiting no one.

that being said, after that mishap, we were kind of over Fish Summer. we moved Ivy to our rotation, and by that point, we had partied enough that our roster was actually looking pretty good. it was time to put Fish Summer behind us.

this would not last for long. our respectable rotation would soon give up Ivy and Jan Canberra for Dickerson Morse and Goobie Ballson, who are more recognized for "Dick and Balls" jokes than their pitching talent, and respectable small-ball leadoff hitter Niq Nyong'o would be incinerated and replaced with Ji-Eun Clove, who could only hit the occasional triple once in a blue moon. the Georgias were once again Bad, and with a bunch of newbies we didn't particularly care for, trading for Fish Summer was once again on the menu.

and this time, it went off without a hitch! in Season 21, we traded Goobie Ballson for Fish Summer, who thanks to our new Fax Machine and Voicemail, had a quick path to the Georgias' lineup. this was it. the Georgias were finally Good again.

or so we thought. while Season 22 was the best season of the Georgias' career, a new problem would plague us, which was Flooding. Flooding was rampant in the Expansion Era, and players were being sent Elsewhere left and right, with Fish Summer being no exception. Fish Summer would end up spending the majority of their Georgias career Elsewhere, playing a total of 58 games for us over the course of three seasons. Atlantis may have loved Fish Summer, but Fish Summer decidedly did not love Atlantis.

anyway, after a long siesta, Blaseball would return with Fall Ball, which would send Fish Summer to the Shoe Thieves, which would be their final team as Blaseball would end two seasons later, ending the Georgias' Hot Fish Summer once and for all.

and you wanna know the funniest part? i don't think the Georgias even did that much with Fish Summer's lore after getting them! i mean, i would frequently forget Fish was even on our team, and i'm not sure how much they were developed past "lol a player named Fish on the ocean team" and "man Fish really hates it here huh". and despite this, Fish managed to leave one heck of a legacy on the team.

[sparkedblaze]

Random modern AU thoughts I have that no one asked for

@noxexistant you sent that ask just as I started this, but I feel like you won't get mad at me for finishing this first

Morris tweets solely from his computer. There's no punctuation or capitalization. It's all stream of consciousness.

Oscar tweets solely from his phone, and everything is punctuated only with periods. No commas or anything, when he's finished a thought, he puts a period and moves on.

Morris has broken so many crayons, Oscar has gotten him the big jumbo ones, and eventually gets him a little art tablet.

Racer thinks he can outrace anyone at Mario Kart, but he's honestly mediocre, his friends just suck. So when he does races with fans, he gets his ass handed to him.

Skittery is a ghost hunter. They don't do anything once they find one, they're just looking for a thrill

Graves usually goes along with them, to make sure the dead is being respected, and because he's the one who is gonna put in the work to do the research and try to find out who is haunting the place and why

Blink doesn't get his nickname from his disability (though he is half blind). He gets it from the way a camera shutter 'blinks', which led to the name of his business/page 'Blink Photography'

Davey is very open about his mental illnesses. He talks about living life with autism and anxiety. How difficult it was with both him and Les (who is def AuDHD), especially with how tight money was for a long time.

Crutchie posts daily vlogs. This wholesome ray of sunshine is immediately taken up by the general public (much like AKB), and his entire audience can and will fistfight you over him. Do not talk bad about Charlie Morris-Larkin you will have not only his brothers to deal with, but also millions of fans who are absolutely feral

Henry starts off as a cooking channel. He gets so excited to try new things, and even more so when a fan suggests it. He'll ask about their favorite place to get it, or if there's anywhere good to buy it at all, or if he should just get together with someone to make it instead. He always invites said-fan to come and do the video with him and get to see him try it live and in person. There's very little he doesn't like.

Henry will bring in people from the culture (i.e. probably having someone from Elmer’s family if they’re trying pierogis, or Miss Medda if they’re trying something like gumbo (Medda Larkin is from the south and you can fight me on that), or they’ll call in Itey if they’re making an Italian dish) to kind of make sure he's not an idiot? They help explain where the dish comes from and what usually goes into it (Henry obv does research himself beforehand, but google def lies sometimes)

HENRY ALSO DABBLES IN FASHION. (HE'S THE ONLY NEWSIE WHO DOESN'T HAVE SEVEN THOUSAND COLORS ON HIM. ALL HIS CLOTHES ARE ROUGHLY THE SAME COLOR YOU CAN FIGHT ME)

Itey's channel is called Earning Your Laurels and they use yt to help people learn the Italian language, and about the Italian culture. Just kinda rambles during videos. Everyone thinks it’s cute as fuck. Especially Snitch. They share the yt channel, and Snitch uses the time to practice his Italian. Is very bad at it for a long time, pretends to still be bad for a while (but practices in secret to surprise Itey), and makes Itey cry on camera when he tells them this super big, heartfelt confession when he tells them he loves them for the first time. They leave it in the video so everyone can see. The fans go absolutely nuts over it.

Jojo's channel is called JojoPlaysShit only because he couldn't think of anything when he first started, but now he's too attached to the name

Les and Mush have competing souvenir collections. It's an actual competition. There are rules.

Les can beat almost anyone in the group at their favorite games. He's just naturally talented.

PLEASE BEAR WITH ME AS I MOMENTARILY RAMBLE ABOUT MIKE THIS IS MY FAVORITE IDEA IN THE ENTIRE AU Y'ALL

His channel is Dropping the Mike:

Bob Ross style tutorials Except he’s pretty fucking terrible at everything he tries. He’ll do painting tutorials, sewing tutorials, cross stitch, knitting, crocheting, etc etc etc The only thing he learns before doing the tutorials is the basics. Like literally 'how to knit'. He doesn't look up patterns or anything, just how to get it started. It’s actually a motivation channel. To let people know it’s okay to not be perfect at everything. They’re allowed to just do things for fun. He tries paper mache and is surprisingly good at it. And just stares at his creation in utter fucking shock and is like ‘how tf did I do this???’ and his fans expect him to keep doing paper mache but he never does it on camera again.  Or at least that’s the plan before a lot of them are like ‘why don’t you do it anymore? Why can’t we see this thing you’re good at?’ and Mike tries to explain that it kind of goes against the whole point of his channel and that he’s perfectly fine being bad at everything the public gets to see. The comment section of that video explodes with demands to see more.

Romeo's is also one of my favorites, please hold

Let’s Start a Fight: A conspiracy channel. Will connect anything to anything else. Also has a series that’s essentially a game show to pit his friends’ relationships against each other to see who has the most solid relationships. The thing is, the questions are entirely arbitrary and have nothing to do with the actual partnership. Some examples: Is Pluto a planet? Is a hotdog a sandwich? Which direction is toilet paper supposed to face? Is cereal a soup? Do you eat or drink soup? There’s at least one fistfight every episode. Only a few of them were staged.  The winner isn’t determined by points or anything.  The winner is the last couple standing. The last couple not arguing. Probably gets a tv or yt deal to make it an actual show.

I wanna turn it into an actual thing but I don't know enough people. So if anyone wants to help me make this a reality I will love you forever

[kryoymir]

I gotta say it, y'all

I very much did not enjoy The Promised Neverland

It's fine up until the escape and then it just gets so, so boring and predictable. Every story beat feels like it's coming from a mile away and it's insanely mediocre. I will say though, the art is very tasty. That's one thing I will always praise that series on.

Read Fire Punch or something instead it's a much better story

[quirkle2]

a boy and his bunny-owl-moth :)

[redux-iterum]

Out of curiosity, what *exactly* do you think went wrong with your original Redux to the point that it caused you to start Iterum?

God, what didn't go wrong? There were so many things at play, even excluding the less-than-stellar attention I was receiving at the time (as major of a factor as it was). Which, to be fair, was at least partially justified by the Redux's content, but partially overblown and, frankly, still confusing to me to this day.

The root problem - that which can explain almost every smaller problem - was that I was zeroed in on subversion of canon above all else. That's why some of the plot twists made no sense on a second of consideration, and why things that I just added in at random were out of left field and not actually helpful to the story, regardless of how long I'd had them in mind. Once in a while it worked out (Tigerclaw's trial remains my favorite part of the Redux), but a lack of setup and thought cost me quality in the name of shock value.

There's also the factor that I was improvising a great deal of the Redux. I have a bad habit of planning chapters out for fics and then going off the rails a bit too much (Steorra suffers from this as well), and that happened a fuckton more when I was starting my writing career. I didn't have an editor or betas like I do now. I didn't have someone to course-correct and rein me in when I started getting too wild. Sandstorm's death was on-the-fly, as the biggest one I can remember. It bought temporary self-satisfaction at the reactions of readers and nothing else. Though posting it on Christmas of all days was a delight, I can admit it.

The simple truth is that, when the Redux started, I was fresh out of high school and only had a comic and some choose-your-own-adventure threads on a forum as my experiences for writing. I was very used to making things up as I went along thanks to reader interactions on all of those stories with a vague overall idea of what I was aiming for. Plotting concrete, serial events that all linked together and made a coherent, large-scale story was not something I was good at or even knew how to do. After I quit the Redux, I made a mediocre book as my first foray into actual literature, which I don't think is worth attention, but it gave me enough experience to get the basic idea down of how to tell a long-term tale. The comic helped immensely as well - if not improving in art style, improving in the details of writing something good (character interactions, dialog, worldbuilding, etc). That gave me the confidence I needed to return to this world with a fresh eye.

I would, however, be remiss if I didn't at least acknowledge that the drama I was pulled into at the time was a major factor in me losing my zeal for the Redux and was part of what went wrong. Y'all know that I try my damndest to stay out of arguments and avoid sensitive topics in case they drum up some trouble. Against my will, drama found me and I was in the spotlight of Tumblr's favorite past-time in those days: finding issues, minute or major, and berating the target until they slink into the dark, never to be seen again. I won't argue that I was free of critique-worthy habits, but I still hold that folks assumed the worst of me and decided I was being deliberately malicious and arrogant instead of being a reclusive twentyteen who was uneducated and just wanted to write a fanfic and have fun with fans. Not everyone was vicious towards me, but enough people were that I left the fandom and to this day refuse to interact with it beyond my small circle surrounding Iterum.

If I remembered any of the rest of the Redux, I could probably go into detail about how this plot point was stupid or this lore bit was too edgy. Alas, I don't. I hope this discussion of the grander problems is satisfactory!

[maxellminidisc]

I find it very interesting how y'all keep reducing peoples problem with the tiktokfication of publishing to people complaining about 1) bad quality novels that have always existed, 2) people being too online, or 3) literally just exaggeration.

First of all, most of the people I see acknowledging this issue have been, overwhelming, authors of color who are seeing how this platform is further exacerbating the constant elevation of the mediocrity of white creators who are not JUST bad writers but writers who are literally having their hands held to even create something in the first place. And not only that, but having to see these very people talk about it like its something to be proud of; to flaunt this kind of mediocrity. That's incredibly frustrating and infuriating as a creator of color to see this be blatantly thrown in your face when publishing will give any excuse except a blatantly racist one to reject you now a days. So, I think that's a pretty fucking legitimate concern to be expressing ones opinion about.

Secondly, some people talking about this arent even ON tik tok (myself included) but can literally see the effect this is having on the books they're being advertised or recommended, especially even the FURTHER deterioration of the writing and especially ideas, that is going into these things. Even people like me, who've been avid readers of the genres the tiktokification is centralized around, specifically romance heavy genres, can see there is ABSOLUTELY a difference in how these things are being written. Yes, romance shlock is a tried and true market, but I could at least read schlock that was legitimately entertaining and respected me as a reader who's a grown fucking person. Shlock that at least had out of the box ideas no matter how batshit despite failure in execution but exhibited a sense of SOME kind of writing experience or consideration for writing as a craft behind it, instead of like 4 fan fiction tropes taped and held together by writing equivalent to 3 pieces of chewed up gum and absolutely bizare sense of infantilism towards its readers.

Plus you guys can go on and on about being too online but like creators no matter how small, LITERALLY have to be online and in these spaces because an unfortunate reality of being a creator in this hellscape is that most of your revenue and building of a community of people who like your work IS ONLINE. Of course, not all of us agree with the means one has to take to get any kind of traction the likes of booktokers in writing or other art circles online, but its inevitable thing to have to be aware of. Like it's sad to fucking say, but a lot of making an art your career has always been networking, and being online is a reality and branch of that.

Not to mention it's not an exaggeration to bemoan the constant feeling so many of us are having in this day and age with the state of art across mediums and the effects capitalism is having on them. Perhaps it's silly to you to focus on "low brow" genres but like isnt it telling that even "low brow" genres are also feeling the effect? Like low brow art doesnt exempt it from having a kind of soul put into it as well from its creators. What does it say that even the literary equivalent of eating a bag of potato chips feels soulless or dispassionate? Potato chips feel comforting and indulgent, this new shit feels like eating cardboard....

[shprism]

Understand WHAT? That album ain't got no substance. Mediocre TRASH girl that shit boring af. Anytime anyone actually attempts to say something with their art and y'all shut it out everytime smh have fun being the most basic of basic.

Yall get more and more annoying as time passes. 24K Magic is a modern twist on old school music and literally yall are the same people who bitch that we need "90s music" back. We need 90s style back. The man gives it to you and of course, there's STILL nitpicking. The album is GREAT, it's feel good music and so was the other nominations. It's not like Kendrick hadn't already won most of his categories tonight. I agree that Lorde was robbed laat night as well, but I stand my ground on Bruno deserving his win. Get over it. Instead of being angry about something like this, how about you direct that anger towards the fact that Kesha lost a Grammy to who else but boring ass Ed Sheeran.

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, week thirty-nine

Opinions on the songs which debuted on the billboard charts 4 october 1997, 6 october 2007, and 7 october 2017

10.4.1997

24) "The One I Gave My Heart To," by Aaliyah

I agree, '90s R&B. It IS sad when people you love hurt you. I used to think it was good when people you loved made you feel sad, but I've been listening to your arguments for the last few months, and you know what? You're right. People you love should make you feel good! Took a while, but I'm finally coming around to your side.

28) "Criminal," by Fiona Apple

So I'm on vacation from work, and I've been taking this time off to not think about anything and just sorta stare blankly at whatever the screen has to offer, so this is not a song for my current mental state. There's so much to unpack with this song, and I'm just not yet acclimated to thinking about what this song has to offer. I need to get back on that critical thinking horse, but I've been lazy the last couple days, aand like you know how difficult it is to concentrate on anything? Y'all givin' me shit like "I've got to make a play to make my lover stay, so what would an angel say? The devil wants to know," and I gotta try to frame it in some context or another, and meanwhile the Link to the Past rando tournament is right there. I can just turn that back on at any moment. Shit, dude. I'm sorry, Fiona Apple. I'm trying. You caught me at a bad time, but this is still probably the best song I've heard in a hot minute, so you've got that going for ya!

84) "Last Night's Letter," by K-Ci & JoJo

THANK YOU, 1997. This is how the list should've been ordered. Groove these '90s R&B slo jamz up the middle so I can make jokewords and get some practice thinking, THEN throw something with lyrical depth and whatnot at me. This song says "I'll love you always" before we even hit the first chorus. Follow Aaliyah up with this, then give me the country song that's gonna follow, THEN I'll be ready to say something substantive about Fiona Apple. Fiona Apple was a thing, right? Like, she would've pretty much been '97 Lena Dunham? Or would she have been a Woke Twitter Hero? I don't know, and it's too late to ever find out because the list has moved on to a song where two men with nice voices sing about passion and devotion. "I wrote this letter last night." Do you think they wrote "I wrote this letter" in the actual letter? Do you think they repeated the chorus in the actual letter? I hope so!

87) "Valentine," by Martina McBride & Jim Brickman

Imagine going to a hoedown, turning on the local country radio station, and hearing this. I mean, maybe this was a solid play for adult contemporary radio, I dunno who Jim Brickman is but I dobut he goes hard too often, but Tay Tay's "Red" was a #2 country single. It would follow that country would listen to anything Martina McBride, but like just... Every single bro country dude was weaned on songs like this. This was what country music sounded like before "i respect the flag AND the party" bullshit. I've made this point before, but it's worth noting, pop/country? That's a genre with a bizarre evolutionary line!

91) "Please," by The Kinleys

you could tell me these white girls are either sisters or two girls named kinley that happened to meet one day, and i would believe it. this is a song that would've been good enough to make the top 20 back when i only had like ten weeks of '97 to sift through, i would've said "yeah this is basic but it's not 'my baby daddy,'" but it's october and we've listened to so many other things and i've already forgotten what this was. country? sure. country. good job, country girls who probably named their kids Carson and Mackenzie.

95) "Go Away," by Lorrie Morgan

If you are using tumblr, your opinion of Marilyn Monroe has gone through three stages: 1) Marilyn Monroe is the epitome of glamour 2) Marilyn Monroe was basically Paris Hilton, like what did she do even? 3) HELL YEAH, MARILYN MONROE WAS PARIS HILTON. SHE WAS HOT AS HELL AND FUCKED ALL THE TIME. GOALS. This is the hottest country girl jam 1997 has provided, but it opens with some Marilyn Monroe cosplay, and this song is a hot jam in a way where it's like "hell yeah, I'd listen to this again!" and not "let's start a music discussion club to delve into the deeper meanings of this song. When she asks, 'Go away and wait a minute,' what does she mean?" so let's just goof on the video!

10.6.2007

53) "Do it Well," Jennifer Lopez

I heard the annoying Timbalandy intro and thought for sure 2007 was hitting us with more of that Kara DioGuardi. Nope! Ryan Tedder! Still a shitty Timbaland ripoff, that Latin pop jam J. Lo released a few months (and ten years) ago was way more in her wheelhouse than this, but I misidentified the bad songwriter who'd been tasked with wasting these three minutes of my life. Ryan Tedder's been doing things for ten years. I am so glad I'm an unexceptional white man, because it means life will never stop presenting me with opportunities regardless of whether or not I deserve them.

73) "1973," James Blunt

The fact that this song actually debuted at #73 makes me so happy. You have no idea. Like, this song is what you would expect the follow-up to "You're Beautiful" to be, James Blunt is trying desperately to show he has some edge and is also a Deep Thinker who doesn't look at girls and think about whether or not he thinks they're hot, he now tries to figure out a year in which she could have been beautiful. "Girl, you're so hot, you remind me of the year before I was born." Swoon. Such a serious artist, this one. Also: did you guys know three people are credited songwriters on "You're Beautiful?" Also also: there's a song called "2005" which is pretty much about "You're Beautiful?" Oh, James Blunt. I am prepared to fall down this YouTube hole someday, but not today. I have to figure out who Playaz Circle is.

91) "Duffle Bag Boy," Playaz Circle ft./Lil Wayne

Oh, 2 Chainz! That's who this is! Well, here I am, forgetting 2 Chainz existed as an entity before he was 2 Chainz and omitting him from the Decade Dance Club! Anyway, this is a song that presages Lil Wayne's extremely good decision to rebrand as a rock god, and it's, y'know, it's fine. It's an acceptable 2007 rap song, much like "Good Drank" was an acceptable 2017 rap song about half a year ago. I accept that this was ever in my life, and I will move on once I feel this paragraph appears large enough that someone could conceivably mistake this for in-depth analysis. What a large paragraph I wrote with no actual content! We have done good work.

94) "Freaky Gurl," Gucci Mane

Gucci Mane is another of the 35-member Decade Dance Club, and with songs like this, there's no shortage of reasons we've kept him around for so long! The way he only uses one flow so you don't get confused and think you're listening to multiple rappers. Intricate rhymes like in the third verse, where he ends six consecutive lines with "girl." And the way each verse only has eight bars so he can go back to the chorus is so polite, it knows why we came to the song and doesn't wanna screw around or seem indulgent with all those fancy A A A A A A rhyme schemes! Gucci Mane: ten years of greatness. Truly, something whose endurance I understand.

95) "Famous in a Small Town," Miranda Lambert

Miranda Lambert is one of my favorite country artists. I also get squicked out when millionaires sing lines like "Who needs their faces in a magazine?" You are incredibly famous! You don't get to sing this song! You are famous in several big cities! Don't sing songs revelling in mediocrity when you, yourself, are special! Like, Gucci Mane is awful, but at least he doesn't fuck around about the fact he owns a Hummer. He's not like "Don't worry if you can't afford a Hummer, life's not all about glamour!" he's saying, "Hell yeah, I got a Hummer. I fuck inside this big ol' car. You should get a Hummer. They're rad." Gucci Mane is a truth-teller, and we should respect that.

99) "Can't Help but Wait," Trey Songz

so like did they record one person clapping their hands and use that for every single '07 r&b song, or did they record hand claps every time they banged one of these out. i hope they made new hand clap noises for every song, it would make each song feel a little more personal, but i think all the studios just like shared the same hand clapping noise. i wonder whose hands they were that made this noise. this song is boring. why did anyone listen to this. they made this song a thousand times in 1997. seems like a waste of the handclaps.

7 October 2017

2) "rockstar," by Post Malone ft./21 Savage

"i cannot contain lyrical abilities of going so hard." what. why. why. who is this... i'm listening to this and wishing i was listening to a nickelback song. this is how fucking dire this song is. like legitimately. this song bites from nickelback, then has the audacity, the muthafuckin AUDACITY to say, "i can tell you're a lazy-ass aritst." preacher, heal thyself.

66) "Too Much to Ask," by Niall Horan

Niall Horan is a nice boy making nice songs and this is going to be another week where 2017 gives me absolutely nothing to work with, isn't it. I mean, I guess it's fine that Niall Horan is a person making John Mayer songs in a world where garbage like Post Malone rules the day, but why does he have to be John Mayer? Can't we do better than John Mayer? Is this really all we have to look forward to on the weeks that divas are not accompanied by an army of brass instruments, is maybe we're cool with Lorde but mostly the hope someone will sound like John Mayer instead of Calvin Harris? 2017, what ya doin'.

67) "Curve," by Gucci Mane ft./The Weeknd

No, sir, Gucci Mane has not lost a step in the last ten years! He's actually improved: this song is two and a half minutes long. Like, we're minimizing time loss, here. I know nothing good will happen. On some level, Gucci Mane knows he's not creating great, lasting art. Just talk about your dick for two and a half minutes and let me go back about my day.

85) "DNA," by BTS

My favorite was the one with the silver hair with the haunted voice because I think The Goth One is unexplored territory for boy bands and I'm glad that BTS has decided to be pioneers. I'm into this! It's dumb, loud pop music, but after so many months of dumb quiet pop music, I think it's high time we just let some young men dance their hearts out and sing about whatever grand emotion they're singing about, probably love, I don't know, I'm actually not ready to let go of this being a Kendrick cover. This is fun! Pop music should sound like Coke tastes, not how Coke makes you feel. This is a sugary little treat, and I'm glad that I was able to listen to it.

92) "Homemade Dynamite," by Lorde ft./Khalid, Post Malone & SZA

I like the original. I liked Melodrama because it sounded like its own thing, and this just sounds like something I could've gotten from any of the EDM bros. Khalid and Post Malone add their usual nothing, and with SZA, it's the same thing, I'd much rather listen to her on her own thing than her on someone else's thing. I dunno. I think y'all should've listened to this song before they felt like they had to ruin it with Post Malone. Lorde's great! I wish I could figure out why the general public rejected her but embraced Khalid!

Who won the week?

1997 because it had the only song I liked.

Current standings: 1997: 14 2007: 12 2017: 13 Next week: Elton John remakes “Candle in the Wind” for some reason, we insist on summoning old Tay Tay to the phone, and oh goddamnit 2017′s gonna give us Macklemore come on 2017 get it together

[thattheatrefreak]

Big-Ass-Rant

I wanna post this on my wordpress blog so tell me if this is safe to post. My English teacher and classmates can see those posts so I don't want it to be too bad. Okay so normally I would put this on my spam but too many people would see it so instead it's going here sorry none of y'all will care anyway. So y'all know I do theatre. I'm that crazy theatre chick yeah? Who is always talking about some show or my most recent show even if it's not so recent. What people don't understand is talking about these things and reminding not other but myself of them is what keeps me going half of the time. Sure I'm saying things out loud and it may seem like I'm asking for attention. Spoiler: I'm not. I'm asking for validation. I'm asking for people to love me and tell me it's okay to be happy with who I am because as a teenager/theatre kid/queer person in today's society and especially in highschool that's kind of a hard thing to do. Sure when people make fun of the fact that I seem to obsess over certain things and it let them go I laugh along with them because in that moment it is funny. At the same time, I have to wonder. Is that all I am to people? Someone who switches between roles and obsessions? I say something once or twice and all of a sudden it's a joke. Maybe I don't change my finsta name away from what it is since I made it last summer. Maybe like you say it's because I've taken that into my personality and become that character. Maybe it's because it makes me happy. Maybe it's because I can't think something else that I want it to be. Simple as that. Maybe it's a combination. Once I switch it...oh boy it's to another thing referencing what character I'm playing. Great. New source of material for jokes. What people don't understand is that while I may be a mediocre actor, I've perfected the art of mask making. I hide behind my smile and my laughs because that's what everyone's doing and I want to fit in. I need their approval and making fun of myself is how to get it. Behind that mask I'm crumbling. My wall (yes the wall that you say I'm stuck behind when I'm acting. You know who "you" are even though you won't read this post because you don't see these blogs) is holding, but just barely. When it breaks, it comes tumbling down. It crushes every happy thought struggling to hold it together. It causes moments like this where I'm sitting on the floor typing while I cry because I ran out of strength and happy thoughts to hold up the wall. Maybe if I didn't have to work so hard at keeping that wall up I'd be able to reach past it when I need to. For now, I keep it up to keep me safe. To keep you out. If you make me feel safe, I'll help you climb over but it's getting lonelier and lonelier on my side. In college for the next year I hope I can take my wall down, let people on my side. Or at least, make it a gate instead of a wall.