#the colors turned out so cute and very pleased how well the song choices fit for the dearie girls <3

[thedeadthree]

𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 — THE ANGUISH OF ATALANTEA AND THE SACRIFICE OF SAERA. THE CAUTIONARY TALES OF HOUSE ANDORAL. [ TEMPLATE BY @unholymilf ♡]

[nari-nim]

hongjoong as your boyfriend

nari note: ah yes, my bias wrecker :’) got requests for mingi and jongho, so they’re coming soon...but who else after them for this series? gif creds go to @hongjooong

Listen, his time is so precious so when he’s spending it with you? You’re precious. He doesn’t bother wasting his time with people who do not add value to his life, so when he’s paying extra attention to you and offering to buy you coffee on the way to work? Someone likes youuuu ;)

Likes to be friends first before dating

You definitely catch him staring at you a lot

He just thinks you’re so beautiful doing the most mundane tasks :((

Will make sure the relationship will work out before asking you out

Or ask him out and he’ll move mountains to make it work

Oh god he takes intimacy and closeness so seriously, so he will be careful about skinship when y’all first date

But he loves the feeling of you in his arms

Or when you back hug him at work

Speaking of work, absolutely the type to produce and sing love songs for you

Like a whole fucking album

But he won’t publish all of the songs for the public, some are simply just for your ears 

Not in the way where all the lyrics are all R-rated, although he will make some of those songs for sure

But like very much likes to pour his heart out into the lyrics and beats, so those songs especially are just for you

He’s so loyal. Will work anything and everything out. 

Love language is quality time (receiving) and acts of service (giving). This combination leads to a lot of romantic and sensual nights in! Think: making dinner together, eating candle lit dinner, warm baths, stuff that leads to more (expanded on later ;)), all those good cliches.

If it’s in the daytime, scenic drives while blasting music, taking photos on film cameras, chilling by the ocean, all of this fits so well with Hongjoong. 

Date where he teaches you how to reform clothes and you end up creating a matching set together. Couple outfit. Couple goals.

Also nap dates!! 

Cuddle him while he gets this well deserved and much needed rest! 

Remembers literally everything you tell him

Very attentive listener, most likely won’t accidentally fall asleep

This means he gives really thoughtful and sentimental gifts, remembers all the important dates, and absolutely will remember that random person in college that hit on you from one singular conversation about them

all or nothing. Just super devoted and loyal.

Will want to help you learn, grow, and pursue your goals. Not exactly a hype man, but will help you slowly and steadily in the background

For example, uses his connections to help point you to the right direction for this risky career choice but won’t take credit for it unless you press him about it

Hmm.. the type to mentally fixate on a problem or try to solve it on his own because he just wants to see you happy, so make sure you try to coax whatever might bother him out so y’all can face the issues together!

But, he’s extremely good at communicating and conflict resolution

After the first few months, arguments are super rare because y’all worked out the biggest issues by then

And if anything comes up, he is so good at actively listening to you, finding compromises, and voicing his needs in a super understanding way

Ugh someone cuff this mans

Speaking of communication, he’s the type to only talk about his deepest worries or insecurities with the closest loved ones in his life so get ready to see a whole new side of him when dating

Will be so vulnerable and open with you so treat him gently and with kindness!

Deep conversations until the late am

A great ear when it comes to listening to you

Always has great, heartfelt advice

He’s someone you can always lean on! He has your back, always

But also make sure to be there for him because we all know he goes through so much and the strongest people need the strongest support

He’s okay with PDA, but not too much in front of people in KQ

Sticks to hand holding and little else

But he is such a cuddle bug in private! He actually lay on top of you or trap you on his lap, not letting you leave unless it’s an emergency

His hugs feel so safe

When y’all cuddle, you always feel so secure, warm, and loved

Dating him is the equivalent of understanding what a deep sense of belonging feels like

Haha y’all should dare each other to try spicy foods 

Because if you like spice/take it well, watch him look at you in amazement and slight horror

And then proceed to sneak the spicy foods in his dish onto your plate whenever y’all eat out together

Even better, you eat the spicy looking food first as his personal taste tester and after a solemn nod, you just quietly take it off his plate for him/move the dish closer to you. You are his superhero.

Or if you can’t take it well like him, at least you both have fun chugging milk together

A true bonding experience either way

NSFW after this

Switch but with an extremely heavy dom lean

Eager to please. More than anything, likes to make sure you’re both pleasuring each other. 

Loves to hear details of your sexual experience and what you like in bed. Simply as a way of getting to know you more. So y’all could literally be talking about choking on his dick casually over lunch. Seonghwa almost spat his drink out while passing by

He is consent king wbk

When y’all first started dating, there were times he forced you to stop kissing him just so he could pressed his forehead against yours and take some ragged breaths, hands gripping at your shoulders tightly, as he pulled himself together and tried to calm down 

Because intense makeout sessions really turn him on

But once you experimentally rock your hips against his, watch his eyes shoot open and look at you with bated anticipation

The first time y’all get down and dirty he’s literally checking in with you before he does anything

Which is so cute, but you’re literally like “just fuck me” at one point

Once he knows your limits though, likes testing them little by little, but always checking in to see how you are doing

Definitely has hard dom potential, especially after both of you get super comfortable

But he still checks in, whether it be gruffly demand your color or pausing to look at you with a questioning look. Just depends on how fucked out you are.

Always coming up with ways to maximize your pleasure, will give everything you suggest a shot

He appreciates visuals. Likes seeing you in his clothes or in lingerie he bought you

Really into orgasm control

He loves loves loves hearing you whine for him

But also

He’s into breath he’s into breath play he’s into breath play he’s into breath play

Hm shamelessly bringing in astrology: so his scorpio ass can actually be quite freaky. But more than anything, he’s very intense during sex. 

But would fuck you as stress relief after a long day 

That… that gets really intense

You’ve used your safe word against him a few times before on those particular days

Also y’all have needy, desperate sex a lot 

Because he’s so busy and you have your own life so when you get to have your time together, it can be a little animalistic the first few rounds

Then it transitions to like love making…very sweet, slow, and sensual :)

OH he is so romantic on anniversaries! He absolutely loves making it special and will spend the night making you shake from pleasure

But on other days where he’s tired as fuck, this is your chance to take care of him! Not necessarily doming him, but being a service top and cuddling him so well afterwards? He honestly loves it so much more than he lets on

Honestly though, I do see him as someone who will let you dom him if you are both feeling it

Not always, but again, he wants to maximize your pleasure

One time he let you top and you started licking his nipples  #hongtiddies and it felt so good for him, you can tell from the way he starts squirming, rutting his hips up at you, and whimpering for you

Got shy before he hit subspace and you used it to mock him a little

Peg him. He'll take it. Like a mess. 

Cums so hard

Was so red after

Pillow talk hits so different

Y’all are both bathing in that post-sex glow, faces inches apart, him kissing your knuckles tenderly, looking deep into your eyes while you both talk about your future, dreams, and aspirations

Whispers his “I love you”s at this time with such sincerity

You can just see the love in his eyes and gentle smile 

</3

[xnchxntmxnt]

Happy 1 year, L!! So glad to be a part of your fan base >:)

I would like a male matchup from Haikyuu please!

Here’s the dress that I am wearing:

About me:

I’m an outgoing girl who loves to meet new people. I’m a theatrical performer, one of my major passions. I’m a leading lady and my vocal range goes from male tenor to female soprano. I’m also a photographer! I like to think that I’m very very skilled at it. It’s one of my favorite things to do.

I listen to all sorts of “weird” music. From sixties, to death metal, to lo-fi rap, I love most music.

I love to be outside and just in my element. My favorite activity is writing and playing games while it’s dark and raining.

I love to do little crafts with my hands like rainbow loom and cross stitching.

Random fun facts: I LOVE to watch soccer games, I’m a very very emotional person and cry at everything, and finally my go to arcade game is coin dozer.

Thanks for being here and blessing us with your content ❤️❤️

THIS DRESS KDNGJBDRG im in love w it i LOVE the color great choice

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡... 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐀

his outfit:

good lord this man looks good in purple. also he's wearing slightly smudged eyeliner i cant find any good pics tho so. eyeliner

believe it or not, the dude doesn't dance much

not willingly

he'll take a mosh pit over a dance floor any day so don't expect him to be on the dance floor

no he's on the small stage set up for live music helping me out <3

im part of your night now <33 deal w it /j /j

so basically

he's a musician

idk where i would have met him im just saying i know him somehow

and i love doing live shit and its my ball so i can if i want to

so he's helping me out w the live shit

probably playing bass for me bc i suck at that

and we vibe

but we clean up instruments and stuff for the night so i can go back to internally panicking about if the night is going well

actually so we can enjoy the rest of the party

you come say hi to the cute bassist

Yours truly decides to play matchmaker because semi may think he’s smooth but someone from the outside could see in a heartbeat that he was interested

He thinks ur pretty <33

So when you guys get to talking about music and how long you’ve each been doing your own music stuff, the conversation is fun

Eventually it fades/one of you is dragged away from each other, but here enters my cue

I would take a minute to tease him about the pretty girl he was talking too and the dude is pretending not to be embarrassed but he is

But then would tell him in x amount of time y song that he likes is gonna play and how he should ask you to dance

Catch 22–he doesn’t like dancing

So I make my way over to you

You get the same spiel (turns out you both like that song) and I tell you to ask him to dance

Probably after some “does he actually want to dance with me” “yes dear” bickering you agree because I’m sure you’re better at talking to people than he is

So you’ve managed to drag the introvert into the dance floor, now what?

He hates dancing because he doesn’t know how

And it’s a slow dance and he’s embarrassed because he seems to be the only one who doesn’t know what he’s doing

Well maybe this wasn’t every theater kid but I learned how to waltz bc of theater so we’re just assuming you did too

So it’s a little unconventional (as is everything here), but you lead

He spins you later in the song as he gets more confidence and you see this little smile in the corners of his cheeks that makes you just. Swoon really

Song’s over, he wants to go back to being a wallflower, but he doesn’t want to let you go either

So you two exit out to a balcony that I just decided exists for this scene specifically

He says it’s for fresh air (which it partially is) but you can’t see him blushing when it’s dark out

So the two of you stand against the banister, snacking on the desserts that fit in your hands and talking the rest of the night away

He compliments your dancing, you compliment his eyeliner (and his eyes because they’re so pretty)

I don’t know if this is too far for just having met him that night but for the sake of the princess moment I want to say there was a kiss on the balcony

A light, sweet one

But a kiss nonetheless

And it was wonderful

P.s. he wears flavored lip balm and that night it was vanilla

[clumsyclifford]

hello bella’s ask box it’s been a min damn.

so the vibes are fucking everywhere w the music in the lab today so i’ve mostly been ignoring it but then unforgettable by thomas rhett started playing and my brain was immediately like This Is a Fic Song

more importantly it is a Bella Fic Song

last time you not so subtly wanted me to prompt u w w thomas rhett song you told me to do that here so i am back again w another song from ur boy

okay i def snuck out just to send this so i gotta go now but this felt important laksdjdld

ok ily bye 💛

hi sam :)

so.................... i was stuck on what to write you for your birthday fic. you sent me this ask prompting me with a thomas rhett song that i had literally been meaning to write a fic based on for almost a full year. the puzzle pieces just aligned REALLY nicely on this one.

happy birthday, my love. there's gonna be a LOT more sappy shit in the ao3 notes, but please know that my life is irreversibly changed for the better because i met you. i am dangerous close to sounding like glinda from wicked and i really want you to get to READ this fic so please see ao3 for more schmaltz. i love you so much.

tw for alcohol

read here on ao3

-

Every life has a moment that imprints on memory like ink on a fresh page. The kind of moment that permanently alters the trajectory of that life, that marks the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Some people are lucky enough to have more than one. Some people’s minds are laden with crystallized memories. But there’s always at least one. One completely unforgettable moment.

For Jack, this moment happens twenty-four minutes after he enters the club.

Twenty-three minutes after he enters the club, Zack returns with his and Jack's second beers and says, "There's some guy at the bar who's totally your type."

"Yeah?" Jack cranes his neck, but he can't quite see the bar from where he is. "My type how? Not just 'lonely and drunk,' right? My standards have gotten higher, you know."

Zack hands Jack his beer. "He's cute and he's wearing a One Direction shirt, and I'm pretty sure he's drinking a margarita.”

"Oh shit," Jack says. "That checks all my boxes."

"I know it does," says Zack, winner of the Wingman Of The Decade award. He claps Jack on the shoulder. Jack sidesteps people until he gets eyes on the bar and scans for a cute guy in a One Direction shirt drinking a margarita.

Twenty-four minutes after Jack enters the bar, he sees Alex.

And everything changes forever.

*

"Woah," Jack says. His gut is feeling weird and it’s probably unrelated to the beer and a half under his belt.

"What?"

"The guy at the bar," Jack says, grabbing Zack's arm. "Zack. You grossly undersold my future husband to me."

"Your future husband?" Zack sounds amused, but Jack isn't kidding.

"Remember this moment," he says seriously, giving Zack a sloppy pat on the bicep before moving away from him, towards the bar, towards the cute guy with the One Direction shirt who's making Jack understand clairvoyance. "Remember this so you can tell the story at our wedding!"

"Your wedding," Zack repeats.

"Our fucking wedding!" Jack insists, more loudly as space and drunk people fill the growing gap between him and Zack. Zack just gives him a good-luck-and-godspeed wave.

Seconds later, Jack is at the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The cute guy in question looks up, surprised. Jack practically reels. It's a miracle people aren't flocking to this guy; he's not just cute, he's gorgeous. Bleach-blond hair — clearly from a bottle, which somehow Jack finds more attractive — flops over his forehead in a stubborn commitment to the emo fringe that died out a decade ago, and long lashes frame brown eyes that rival the glossy chestnut color of the bar. Add the five o'clock shadow and the sharply angled jaw and Jack's speechless.

Fortunately it's not his turn to speak. "I have a drink," says the guy, who is rapidly progressing from Cute Guy At Bar to Possible Soulmate At Bar. He quirks a smile. Jack's done for. "I'll buy you a drink, though."

Jack sets his partially-drunk beer on the bar top and slides it as far as he can reach. "Okay," he says.

Possible Soulmate laughs. He slides his margarita away from him, too, pushing it into the space of another person sitting down the bar. "Touché. Okay, you can buy me a drink."

"Well, hey, I don't want you to waste yours," Jack says reasonably. He retrieves his beer and then Possible Soulmate's drink. "I'll get the next one."

Possible Soulmate smiles. Jack is going to need his name eventually. "I appreciate your commitment to environmentally-friendly consumption of alcohol."

Jack blinks. "Yeah," he says. "That was a lot of big words, but sure. No problem. I'm Jack, by the way."

"Alex." Alex. Jack can see the wedding invites now.

"Nice to meet you," Jack says. "I like your shirt."

Alex glances down out of instinct as the wide collar of the shirt slips over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says with a chuckle, and looks up at Jack. "I like yours."

With great effort, Jack tears his gaze from Alex's shoulder and the hint of collarbone peeking out, but he would like it on the record that it is tremendously difficult. Fortunately he already knows what shirt he's wearing because he'd agonized over it for several minutes longer than Zack's patience ran, shortly before going out.

"Yeah, Kurt Cobain," he says, nodding with probably too much enthusiasm. "I'm a lead singer guy."

"Really?" Alex tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Meaning what?"

"I go for the lead singer types," Jack explains. "Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong, you know." He nods at Alex's shirt. "Harry Styles."

"Harry Styles wasn't—" Alex breaks off and snorts. "Eh, whatever. Who cares."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold the phone. Did you fucking cross out Zayn's face?"

Alex looks down at his shirt again like maybe he'll have forgotten what it looks like. "Oh, my friend did that. But now the shirt is factually accurate."

"If you wanted an accurate shirt you'd have to cross them all out since none of them are in the band anymore," Jack observes.

Alex slowly smiles. "I guess."

"I always liked Zayn," Jack says wistfully. "His solo shit is so good, though."

"It's good," Alex says, kind of in the tone of voice of someone who doesn't really agree but doesn't want to get into it, so Jack leaves it be. They can poll their wedding guests. "I'm really digging Niall's solo shit."

"That's an extremely acceptable answer," Jack says, nodding vigorously. In the moment it slips his mind that he's holding a beer and the liquid begins to slosh out of its container. "Oh shit, fuck, sorry."

"Didn't get me," Alex says, passing Jack a napkin. "Couple too many, I get it."

"What?" Jack is very focused on drying his hands so they don't get sticky and gross. "I'm not drunk."

Alex laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not!"

"Okay," Alex says lightly, but it's clear he doesn't believe Jack. On the bright side, he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I am acceptably drunk for a guy in his mid-twenties at a club,” Jack amends. "And you owe me a drink anyway."

"Hey, I intend to buy you that drink," Alex says earnestly. "Another beer?"

Jack shakes his head. "Vodka soda," he says. "It's a special occasion."

"Really! You celebrating something?"

"I am now," Jack says. "Celebrating meeting my future husband."

"Your future husband?"

"You," Jack says, in case it wasn't clear. "It's not every day you meet the man you're gonna marry. I think it calls for a celebratory vodka soda."

Alex stares, obviously expecting Jack to say sike! When Jack does no such thing, he gives a small, incredulous laugh.

"Fair enough," he says. He sounds like he's humoring Jack. That's okay. Jack is serious, but Alex will figure that out on his own time. "I guess you're not wrong. That doesn't happen every day."

A large shadow materializes on Alex's other side, blocking light like some very cliché movie villain. It's not Doc Ock, but it is some tall, burly guy, a leer affixed to his face that's probably been there since Alex's haircut went out of style.

"Hey, baby," he says in an unnervingly deep voice. The part of Jack that isn't super skeezed out is a little jealous. But Burly Guy isn't talking to Jack; Jack may as well be invisible. To Alex, Burly Guy says, "Saw you across the bar and I just had to come over."

Didn't have to, Jack thinks grumpily to himself. You could have stayed across the bar. If you walk away now we’ll pretend we never saw you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Burly Guy asks, and honestly, Jack has no idea what Alex is going to say.

Big Burly Guy with a deep voice a la Morgan Freeman vs. resident beanstalk Jack whose voice sounds like a rejected cartoon character design. What a tough choice.

Jack is just preparing to cut his losses when Alex grabs Jack's wrist, turns to him, and says, "Honey? What do you think?"

Jack's tipsy, but Alex is definitely communicating something with his eyes, and between that and the pet name Jack is pretty sure he's on the same page.

"You want to buy my boyfriend a drink?" Jack asks Big Burly Guy, cranking up the Bitchy energy because he doesn't get to do it a lot and it's kinda fun. His voice has definitely gone vaguely southern-auntie, but he's rolling with it. "Sorry, sugar, this seat's taken. Must be this guy" — he points at himself — "to ride."

"This guy?" Burly Guy echoes, furrowing his eyebrows at Jack and then looking at Alex with profound confusion, like he just doesn't get it. "You're with this guy?"

"Happily," Alex says, glancing back at Jack, who offers him what is definitely a convincingly enamored smile because Jack is legitimately enamored. Alex laces their fingers together and Jack's not delusional, can't be, not when they fit this well together. No way. "So I'm gonna pass on that drink. Sorry, man. No hard feelings."

Burly Guy seems to have some hard feelings. Maybe he didn't get the memo. "Whatever," he says gruffly. "Your loss."

Jack can't resist countering, "Actually it's your loss, sweetums," as Burly Guy retreats. If he dies tonight, he knows who’s responsible.

As soon as he's gone, Alex breaks down laughing, and Jack quickly follows suit. Alex's hand slips from Jack's and begins to tug at the ends of his own hair instead.

"Sugar?"

"I don't know what happened," Jack says/wheezes. "I became possessed by Blanche from Golden Girls.”

"You have to be" — Alex prods Jack's chest — "this guy to ride." He dissolves into giggles and Jack is laughing too but mostly because Alex's laugh is incredibly contagious.

"Look, I don't blame him," Jack says, feeling exhilarated. "You are the best-looking guy in this establishment. He just happened to have creepo vibes."

"I am not the best-looking guy in this establishment," Alex says, grinning at Jack. "Nice of you to say, though."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I thought you were Jack."

Jack stares at Alex and Alex doesn't even last a second before he's breaking down laughing yet again.

I'm going to marry you, Jack thinks, and it almost scares him how serious he is about that. He opens his mouth and says, "That wasn't even— that's not even one of the good dad jokes! That's the most boring one!"

"There is no such thing as a boring dad joke."

"You should go into stand-up," Jack says dryly. "You'd tear down the house with this set. I can see it now." He waves a grandiose hand in the air as if painting the marquee into existence, but when he goes to introduce the act he realizes he's missing most of the crucial information. "Alex…something…something. Austin, Texas, one night only."

"Gaskarth," Alex says. "That's my last name."

"Alex Something Gaskarth," Jack loyally amends, and gives Alex a look like, well?

Except Alex is giving Jack that same look. "I only know your first name and you expect me to tell you my full one?"

"Jack Bassam Barakat," Jack says, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, I'm trying to introduce your act here."

"Guess," Alex says.

"Guess?"

"It's a pretty basic middle name," Alex says. "I'll buy you your vodka soda when you guess it."

"Alex," Jack says. "I am not going to guess your middle name. I am so bad at these games and I'm fucking drunk."

"Quitter," Alex says. "Do you want your drink?"

Jack scowls, trying to channel Blanche again, but Alex is apparently immune.

"Give me a hint," he finally concedes.

"It's a British name," Alex says. “Pretty standard British.”

"Are you British?”

Alex nods. "Born and raised. Moved here when I was about…eight? But I'm not an American citizen. I have a green card."

Yet another reason they should be married. Jack could extend his citizenship to Alex. Plus he'd gain British citizenship, which would probably be useful for, like, travel or One Direction stalking or whatever.

"That's sick," Jack says. "I was born in Lebanon. We moved when I was a baby."

"That's so cool," Alex says, sounding genuinely interested. He props his chin on his hand and gives Jack a cheeky smile. "Now guess."

Jack sighs. "Uh, Charles."

"No."

"Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"Margaret."

"Jack."

"You said it's a British name!"

"A British man's name," Alex says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Jack takes a long pull from his beer, swallows, and says, "Harry."

"No."

They're going to be here awhile. Jack pulls out the seat next to Alex and settles in while he racks his brain for British names.

*

“Alfred.”

“Nope.”

“John.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“George.” Alex shakes his head. “Ringo.”

“Yup, you finally got it,” Alex says. Jack is over the moon for a split second before it sinks in that Alex is fucking with him. “Alex Ringo Gaskarth. Well done.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing my best here,” Jack says.

“You’re missing one incredibly obvious name,” Alex says. “It’s not that hard.”

“For you,” Jack says. “Because you already know it.” Alex is grinning. Jack likes that he’s enjoying himself. It makes this guessing game fun. Under any other circumstances, this guessing game would not be fun, but Alex makes it fun.

Alex has also finished his mango margarita by now, and Jack’s beer is long since empty. He’s itching for another drink, mainly for something to do with his hands.

As if reading his mind, Alex flags down the bartender, who sidles up with a small smile and says, “What can I get you boys?”

Jack blinks at her. Mostly at her accent, which is not American.

“Vodka soda,” Alex says. To Jack, “I think you’ve earned it.” Jack smiles.

“And a mango margarita,” he puts in to the bartender, “and are you British?”

The bartender looks amused. “I am British,” she says.

“Please help me,” Jack says. “Alex says his middle name is a British name and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it fucking is.”

“Jack, the nice bartender lady has other things to do,” Alex says with a laugh. The nice bartender lady probably does have other things to do, but she shifts her weight and gives Alex an appraising look instead.

“Harry?”

“Tried that,” Jack says, realizing at once that this is a pointless endeavor. The nice bartender lady is going to guess everything Jack’s already guessed and he’ll just have wasted her time. “I’ve tried every member of One Direction, every member of the Beatles, every member of Oasis, every Harry Potter character, every member of the Royal Family—”

At this, Alex coughs conspicuously.

Jack rounds on him. “I have.”

“Edward,” the bartender offers. Alex’s lips are pressed together in a smile and he shakes his head. “Meghan. Kate. Richard. Dick. Philip.”

A lightbulb goes off as the bartender is listing Royal Family names. Jack wants to kick himself. “Oh my— William?”

“Yeahhhh, there you go! See, it was easy,” Alex says, grinning widely.

“William,” the bartender repeats with a charming little laugh. Her lipstick is bright with clean lines, an impressive feat considering Jack has seen her bustling around this bar for almost an hour now. “I had an ex called William.”

“Oh no,” Alex says. “I hope he didn’t ruin the name for you.”

“Please,” the bartender says, waving him off. “The only thing he ruined for me was a few meters of drywall.” Jack and Alex must have twin looks of concern, because she explains, “Anger issues. No worries, boys, I sent him packing, and a vodka soda for you, and a mango marg for you.”

She slides their drinks into waiting hands and starts to turn away. “Wait a sec,” Jack says.

The bartender turns back to him with wide Bambi eyes. “Did I fuck up the drink? I’ve made it a million—”

“No no no,” Jack assures her. “I just wanted to know your name. You rescued me from an eternal guessing game, you’re my hero.”

The bartender smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maisie,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Alex says. “Thank you for the alcohol.”

Maisie laughs again as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“William,” Jack says, swirling his drink with the miniature straw. “God damn. I can’t believe I missed William.”

“You got close,” Alex says. “You guessed Liam twice. And thanks for the drink.”

“Same to you,” Jack says. “It’s a good drink. Yours, I mean. You know what offends me, though? Why aren’t mango margaritas orange?”

Alex furrows his brow. “Why the fuck would they be orange?”

“Mangos are orange! Fruity drinks should be the same color as their fruit.”

“Mangos are not fucking orange,” Alex says with an incredulous laugh. “They’re straight-up yellow.”

“They’re orange with yellow tendencies,” Jack says, “but mostly orange.”

“They are entirely yellow,” Alex says. “Coldplay even wrote a song about them. They were all yellow.”

“They’re orange,” Jack insists, but now Alex has moved on completely and is loudly singing Coldplay.

“I came along! I wrote a song foooor youuuuu! And all the things you do!”

“You’re ignoring the truth!”

“And it was called ‘Yellow’!” Alex shouts.

“Okay, I surrender! Sheesh. You win.”

“Thank you,” Alex says placidly, like he hasn’t just been yelling obnoxiously over the (worse, but much louder) club music. “I’m going to enjoy my yellow mango marg very much.”

“And I will enjoy my victory drink,” Jack says, lifting his glass. Alex lifts his. It smells like mango and tequila. They clink the rims together. “To William.”

“To William,” Alex agrees, laughing.

*

The DJ plays a song Jack loves to hate from hearing it on the radio so many times and Alex is out of his seat before Jack’s managed to put down his drink.

“What are—”

“I love this song, I want to dance,” Alex insists. The implication is clearly that he wants Jack to dance with him, which is like. What is Jack gonna do, say no?

Alex must anticipate some kind of argument, though, because with a glint in his eye he adds lightly, “These are the kinds of things you’ll have to do if we’re married.”

On the one hand, he’s clearly making fun. But on the other hand, the fact that Alex was a stranger an hour ago and is still comfortable teasing Jack about suggesting they’re going to get married speaks volumes. Alex is smiling. They’ve known each other for less than an hour — a drink and a half each — and Alex is smiling at his own joke about marrying Jack. Like he likes that Jack said it first. Like he likes Jack.

“Just wait ‘til you learn all the weird shit you’ll have to do when we’re married,” Jack says, sliding out of his stool.

Any sane person would have run away by now. Even Jack knows when he’s coming on too strong.

But Alex does the opposite; Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the dance floor.

“Fair warning,” Alex says. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack says, and then eats his words not two seconds later when Alex demonstrates how very much he doesn’t know how to dance. All of his limbs seem to move as their own entities, zero synchronization. A couple surrounding people take various minor assaults before taking the hint and giving Alex some space, but this does not stop him. “Okay,” Jack says loudly over the music. “You were right. But luckily neither do I.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alex says.

Jack does the sprinkler. Alex snorts. He does the wave, very poorly, and Alex continues it, also very poorly.

“Mr. Moves,” Alex says. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Check this one out.” Jack does the running man with extreme focus. Alex laughs, leaning towards Jack as he does. Jack stops dancing so he doesn’t accidentally hit Alex, who is suddenly much closer and who somehow smells like pine and flannel and fall and winter in one and is the best-looking person in blue jeans and checkered Vans on this dance floor. Far from the only person, but without question the prettiest.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I can do that one,” says Alex, grinning. Jack nods at him like, try it, so Alex does, proving himself right. He almost takes Jack’s eye out.

“Yeesh, okay, you’re— alright, take it easy,” Jack says, swatting Alex’s wayward hand away and laughing. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

Surrendering the running man, Alex starts up with some bizarre hand-wavey foot-kicky thing, singing along to the music.

“Do you seriously like this song?” Jack asks, attempting to imitate Alex’s dance. “Dance,” heavy quote marks implied.

Alex shoots Jack a look. “Hell yeah. What, you don’t?”

“It’s just…always on,” Jack says. “Everywhere. How are you not sick of it?”

“Because it fuckin’ slaps!” Alex looks incensed.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a pop music person when you’re literally in a One Direction shirt.”

“I’m a lots of music person,” Alex counters. “Including pop music, yeah. You don’t like pop music?”

“I sometimes do,” Jack says. “I like Taylor Swift. Britney Spears.”

“Okay, well, you’d have to be insane not to like them.”

“Yeah, and I’m obviously sane.”

Alex barks a laugh. “Drunk but sane.”

“I am not drunk!” That’s probably a lie by now.

“You’re not convincing me otherwise,” Alex says. “I’m confident you’ve been drunk this whole time.”

“You haven’t exactly been an innocent bystander,” Jack says. “You bought me a drink, and you’re gonna buy us shots in a minute.”

“I did— I what?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and this time he drags Alex off the dance floor, back to the bar. “I can see the future, I forgot to tell you.”

“You—” Alex laughs again and leans on the bar, trapping both his elbows between his stomach and the bartop. “You’re buying the next round.”

“Oh, happily,” Jack says. “I’m actively trying to get you drunk.”

“Why’s that?”

“Studies show I am 75% more attractive to people when they’re drunk,” says Jack.

Alex turns to him. Without missing a beat, he says smoothly, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to get any more attractive.”

Fuck. Actually, fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

“You must be drunk already, then,” Jack says.

Alex smiles serenely. “I feel pretty sober.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Jack says. “J’accuse, William.”

Alex laughs. “In that case, your studies are right.”

Jack’s probably blushing. He does that in extreme cases only, but this is nothing if not an extreme case. Alex is fucking relentless.

Maisie the bartender is back, and Alex orders them shots of tequila. Somewhere in the recesses of Jack’s mind, this unlocks a memory, and he snaps his fingers. “I should hunt down my friend, he loves tequila.”

“Friend?” Alex looks around while Maisie pours their shots. “You ditched your friend?”

“He told me to,” Jack says. “He’s probably gonna pick up some girl. Actually, he probably already has.”

“Really,” Alex says, sounding amused.

“Zack’s a strong silent type,” Jack explains. “Emphasis on strong. We’re single guys in our mid-twenties, Alex. We’re not going to clubs for the atmosphere.”

“Admit it,” Alex says. “You a little bit are.”

Jack bites his lip. “Fine, I like the atmosphere,” he admits, more affected than he should be that Alex seems to have picked up on this about him. “And the alcohol. And the chances I’ll meet my future husband, which clearly paid off. Zack will never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he likes trying to set me up with random people in clubs.”

Alex laughs. “He set you up with me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says. “He wingmanned me hard. You can thank him in your vows.”

This only serves to make Alex laugh harder. “I’ll thank him now,” he says with a grin. Taking his cue, Jack grabs his shot glass. Alex does the same. “To Zack.”

“To Zack!” Jack cheers, and they both down their shots.

“Me?”

Jack whirls around and trips straight into Zack. “Zack!” he says brightly. “We toasted you.”

“I heard,” Zack says. “Why, exactly?”

“I’m Alex,” says Alex, holding out a hand. Zack shakes it. “Apparently you set us up?”

“Oh,” Zack says. “I wouldn’t really say that. I just kind of pointed Jack in this direction. If you can put up with him, that’s all you.”

“I was gonna come find you anyway,” Jack says. “We’re doing tequila shots. Next round on me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Zack says. “Count me in.”

They can’t come up with a toast for their second round so they just knock it back with an ambiguous cheer; then Zack offers to buy another, and Jack’s not about to refuse. It’s starting to hit just right, so he’s buzzed but not incoherent. All his most brilliant ideas come in this state.

Case in point: as Maisie is pouring them their third round, Jack suddenly says, “Maisie! Do a shot with us!”

Maisie looks up and laughs. “I’m not supposed to drink on the job,” she says.

“It’s not drinking, it’s bonding,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, we’re forming lasting friendships,” Alex jumps in.

Zack looks entertained. “You guys know each other?”

“As of half an hour ago, yes,” Maisie says.

“Maisie here helped me guess Alex’s middle name,” Jack explains. “Which is William. Like the prince.”

“I feel like I missed so much,” Zack says, half to himself. He shrugs and nods at Maisie. “One shot. On me. For Jack. We won’t tell.”

Maybe it’s because Zack is buff and has cool tattoos or just has good vibes or whatever, but Maisie hesitates only a second before inclining her head. “Just one, and no blabbing,” she says, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Everyone nods solemnly, and Maisie discreetly pours herself a fourth shot.

“Hell yes!” Jack whoops as they all take a shot glass. “To Maisie!”

“To Maisie!” Everyone echoes, including Maisie with a wry grin.

The third shot goes down smoother than the first two. Jack swallows his easily, as does Alex. Maisie puckers her face a bit. Zack has zero reaction, because Zack’s just kinda like that.

“While I’m here, I was hoping to get another beer,” Zack says.

“On it,” Maisie says immediately, giggling. “Thanks for the shot, boys. You’ve kept me far more entertained tonight than my usual shift provides.”

“You can give a toast at our wedding,” Jack says to her. Zack’s eyes widen a little, Alex snorts, and Maisie laughs.

“I’d be honored,” she says. “Back to work now. You need anything, let me know.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“What?” Jack gives Zack an innocent smile. He pats Zack on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sugar, you can give a toast too.”

Alex laughs. Zack stares at him and shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he says, but he says that roughly twice a day so he’s still below his quota. “I’ll leave you two alone. Come find me when you wanna go. If…” He eyes Alex. “...Just…yeah.”

And with these eloquent words, he disappears with his beer into the crowd.

“I like him,” Alex announces.

“Me too,” Jack says. He turns back to Alex. “Back to the dance floor?”

“Get out of my brain,” Alex says. “I’d like to see your drunken running man.”

“It is gonna blow your fucking mind,” Jack promises, and Alex laughs again.

*

They’re not even being gross like everyone else. Alex has pulled Jack into an exaggerated tango performed mostly with missteps when it happens: someone shoves them aside as they walk past, and Alex loses his balance and falls into Jack, who just barely manages to catch them both. He doesn’t manage to stop his arm from winding around Alex’s waist. To be fair, he doesn’t try very hard.

Jack’s first thought is homophobe, but then he spots the offender, lumbering off with heavy footfalls, and it’s Burly Guy from earlier. The guy who tried and failed to pick Alex up.

All of this registers as Alex slowly regains his footing. “Damn, who pissed in that dude’s Cheerios?”

“It’s the guy from before who tried to buy you a drink,” Jack says, pointing at his back.

Alex whips his head around. “Seriously? Asshole.”

Jack chooses not to observe that from his vantage point, being shoved close together is hardly a dick move. In intent, sure, but not in actuality; Jack’s enjoying the proximity a great deal. Like, a lot.

Like, his hand is still on Alex’s hip, subtly keeping Alex close, and Alex has his arm around Jack’s shoulders from their dance and he’s not moving, either.

“Yeah,” Jack says. They’d already been on the outskirts and now they’re off to the side of everyone, wallflowers.

Alex breathes a laugh and looks back at Jack. He doesn’t step back or even lean away, even though their faces are too close to be friendly now. Jack hadn’t really been expecting friendly, but they’ve been tightrope-walking between sides, and if neither of them breaks this up then they’ll be irreversibly left on one end.

Jack has no intention of moving away. He likes this end of the tightrope. For all he cares, they could cut the tightrope and free-fall together.

“You’re pretty good at bad tango-ing,” Alex says, reaching up to brush away the sweaty fringe that’s clinging to his forehead.

Jack grins. “Well, you know what they say. It takes two.”

Alex kisses him so suddenly that Jack almost loses his balance.

*

He tastes like tequila. That’s all Jack gets before they’re not kissing anymore. The room feels quiet and then unforgivably loud the next second, and Alex is flushed and smiling nervously, and Jack is smiling too, not nervous at all.

“Did I tell you I’m in a band?” Alex asks in a rush.

Jack’s brain struggles to keep up. He can’t remember Alex mentioning a band, but he’s also distracted by wanting to kiss Alex again. There’s no understating the power of wanting to kiss someone over failing to clock anything they say. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” Alex says. “Not as a job, just like, for fun.”

“Oh,” says Jack.

“I’m the lead singer,” Alex says, with a flickering look down at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh,” says Jack, because, like, oh. “Can I kiss you again?”

“What, here?” Alex meets his eyes. “With all these people around?”

“You kissed me first,” Jack says. “Let me kiss you and then we can call it even.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Jack’s kissing him before the word’s really out of his mouth.

And he tastes like tequila and mango and sugar and the color yellow and the sweat of the dance floor and God, it’s good. It’s like kissing a memory, except this memory is still here, not frozen in time, not trapped in an ornate frame. He’s creating a memory that he knows he’ll relive for the rest of his life.

Somehow, though he doesn’t know the end of this chapter, he knows the end of the book.

Alex’s warm palm cradling Jack’s cheek to hold him steady, fingers splayed out like a star; Alex’s other hand grazing skin over the collar of Jack’s shirt. Alex singing Coldplay in Jack’s ear. Alex’s blue jeans and his checkered Vans and his ridiculous One Direction tank top. Alex holding Jack’s hand and calling him honey to get Burly Guy to leave him alone. Grinning as he shoots down guess after guess for the elusive middle name. Laughing at Jack’s stupid dance moves. Knocking back a shot like it’s nothing. Smiling when Jack says they’re going to get married, never moving away, only ever closer.

Alex sitting undisturbed at the bar, ankles crossed, and Jack seeing him from across the room like something out of a goddamn Hallmark movie and just knowing.

He tugs Alex closer but Alex is already pulling away with a smile. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smoothes a hand over a crease in Alex’s shirt and nods. “Taxi’s on me if we go back to your place.”

“Sucker, I was gonna suggest that anyway,” Alex says with a quiet laugh. “You should tell Zack. Don’t wanna just leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “He knows.”

“He knows?”

“Zack and I are brothers in clairvoyance,” Jack says. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I knew you could see the future,” Alex says. “You never told me Zack could, too.”

“Zack can see everyone’s future,” says Jack. “I can only see mine.”

“Yeah? What’s your future look like now?”

Jack filters out several inappropriate comments. It’s hard when Alex is smirking, clearly baiting him. “I told you,” he says. “You, me, vows, rings, the works.”

“Not that future,” Alex says. “I’m talking about the immediate one.”

It takes everything in Jack not to get down on one knee and say so was I. There’s a tilt in Alex’s head, like a dog listening carefully for a familiar sound.

“Honestly?” Jack says, and Alex nods. “I think it’s more fun if we find out together.”

[kim-seungmine]

give my heart a chance

title: give my heart a chance

characters: (fem) reader x han jisung of stray kids. 

genres: romance, fluffy as hell (i just want them to kiss so bad!), college au, friends to lovers au, composer/music scorer!jisung, assistant director!reader

word count: 6.9k words

warnings: cursing, a little suggestive i guess? there’s a lot of sexual references but nothing too wild, lots of (attempted) flirting, jisung is whipped as hell, it gets very wordy sometimes IM SORRY.

synopsis: you and jisung have these theories about love, and there’s only one way to prove yourselves right: testing them on each other.

a/n: writing this gave me so much joy, and writing from jisung’s perspective is super fun. lastly, sorry for the lame ass title, but i hope you’ll enjoy! please tell me there aren’t many grammatical/spelling errors i’ve read this over and over again.

Verse 1: “Date me, so I can write love songs about you.”

Han Jisung has a lot of ambitions. Being the world's best composer, buying a whole island for himself, and flexing his Rolex watches are on his list, but for now finishing his demo for the upcoming production meeting will be enough.

Maybe he's not so ambitious after all.

The door clicks open and reveals his roommate Lee Minho, his hair disheveled but eyes twinkling. Jisung raises his eyebrow. "Did you pass out on the street or something? What time is it?"

It's now Minho's turn to raise his eyebrow. "I had this amazing date but to put it simply, your man got laid."

Jisung sighs and knocks his head on the desk. "Lucky you."

"Your time will come, my friend," Minho assures him flatly, lying on the couch with a contented sigh. "What time is the meeting?"

"9 A.M." Jisung yawns, lifting his head to glance at his watch. "Fuck, I'm late."

Jisung doesn't know why he struggles to finish this project. His senior Bang Chan asked him to join his graduation project and help with the scoring. Jisung is willing to do anything that boosts his resume, but so far the project is only causing him headache. He's Han Jisung, the best student in his batch who almost always forgets to finish his assignments but always manages to ace them. He also sings and raps—even freestyling. He's the musical genius. Why is this happening to him?

Minho mumbles a sleepy good luck before passing out. Jisung is about pack his laptop when his phone vibrates. Your name appears on his screen, making him groan.

"Han Jisung you're late," you deadpan before he gets to say hello.

"I'm on my way."

“Get your ass here in 10 minutes or..."

"Or what?"

He can hear you tapping your pen on the table. "...I have nothing to threaten you with."

Jisung chuckles. Do you know how cute you are even over the phone? "I'll be there in 10."

Chan and the rest of the crew are already inside the room when Jisung arrives. He slowly pulls up a chair beside you, trying his best to ignore your glare.

"About the wooden table we wanted last week, have we got it?" Chan asks.

Kim Seungmin, the head of production design team, nods his head. "The color is a bit different from your moodboard because the one you wanted was slightly more expensive than expected, is this still okay?" He pauses to show Chan a picture on his phone. The director examines it before passing Seungmin's phone to you. "What do you think, Y/N?"

"It's a bit different but still fits the overall mood in my opinion. A little bit warmer, but I don't think it will disturb the ambience."

Chan smiles. "Hmm, I agree. Good job, Seungmin. And that's it, everyone! Thank you for coming! We only have 3 more scenes to film so hang in there, okay?"

The whole room lets out sighs of relief, leaving the room one by one.

"Jisung, can I talk to you?"

"Just curse at me. You don't have to be so nice."

Chan laughs. "You know why I asked you to help me, right? I know what you're capable of, so tell me, what's bothering you?"

Jisung pulls out the film script from his backpack, showing Chan the parts he's circled with red marker. "I finished the scoring for other scenes, but I can never seem to think of anything that fits this one scene."

He has played the scene in his head over and over. The man confesses his feelings to the woman he loves dearly, but also says goodbye to her. The woman only nods, lips curling into a small smile, and waves him goodbye.

It doesn’t make sense. Why would they do that? People who love each other stay together unless their parents disagree or someone dies. Or at least, they try to be together until the feelings fade. Why would they say goodbye before even starting anything?

Chan stands up, patting Jisung on his back as he’s making his way to the door. “I don’t want to limit your creativity or make you create music only based on my vision, but here’s something to think about: sometimes it’s not about fate or timing. It’s about choice. See you next week, kids!”

Both of you slump into your chairs the moment he’s out of sight. “I hate it when he’s being cryptic like that. Why can’t he just tell you what he wants? He’s the director anyways, everything has to be according to his vision.” You turn to Jisung who’s scratching his head. “Please tell me you understood what he said.”

“I understand,” Jisung answers. “Well, theoretically. Do you?”

“No one will truly understand it the way Chan does, but I understand the message he wants to tell.”

“Will you just help me then?” Jisung begs. “We don’t have much time left and I’m sure you’ll kill me if I submit the demo a minute late so let’s make our lives easier and help each other out, shall we?”

Jisung does need help—especially since you’ll be extremely critical—but he also wants to spend more time with you. He doesn’t know if Minho going on dates motivates him to do the same, and that’s what he wants to figure out.

“Okay,” you say. “But the moment you annoy me too much I’ll leave you to rot alone”

Jisung smiles so brightly his cheeks hurt. “When do you finish class today?”

It wasn’t love at first sight. The first few weeks working with you was hard that he wanted to take a revenge on you by asking Minho to break your heart. His roommate specializes in breaking people’s hearts, but he figured you would break Minho’s heart instead.

After a while, Jisung would rather you break his heart than anybody else’s.

“I hope you like Americano,” Jisung says. You avert your gaze to two cups of Americano on the table, nodding as you sit in front of him. “Thanks. Is the cheesecake mine too?”

He chuckles, sliding the plate to you. “It’s mine, but you can have it. I wanted to buy you one but I don’t know what you like.”

“You dared to assume that I like Americano but couldn’t decide what cake I would like?”

Jisung wonders whether he should be honest with you.

“I almost did,” he confesses. “But buying you cake feels too personal, isn’t it? This will feel like a date.”

You unexpectedly pout, and Jisung almost has a heart attack. “Stop flirting, you’re so bad at it.”

“Once I start flirting for real, you’ll be madly in love with me in 10 minutes.”

You slide the plate back to him. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation,” you sigh. “Let’s start. You’re the one who wants me to help you get your shit done.”

Jisung opens his laptop to show you his drafts. “I honestly don’t know if this scene is supposed to be sad,” he explains, playing one of them. You listen carefully, glancing at him every few seconds. When the music stops, you close his laptop.

“Do you believe in love, Han Jisung?”

Jisung stops slicing his cheesecake, puts his fork down, and looks into your eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer me.”

“Yes? I’ve been in love before, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think the man loves the woman?”

“He does.”

You look satisfied with his answer. For a few minutes, you don’t ask him any other question, just sipping your coffee while examining your surroundings. “That’s it? You asked me all those big questions then just stopped?”

“Your theories are interesting,” you point out. “You believe in love and thinks that the couple needs to be together, but you’re not thinking from their perspective yet.”

“What’s your theory then?” he asks.

“My theories… about love?”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind sharing.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I think it will be fun. Well, this is what I’ve always believed in: boys like you will never be heartbroken.”

“Boys like me?”

“Boys like you, who date just for the sake of dating itself or getting laid.”

Jisung panics, waving his hands in front of your face. “Y/N I’m not some fuckboy I swear to God.”

“I know you’re not,” you clarify. “Boys like you just don’t think too much about anything, don’t really use your feelings. You date you when you want to date, break up when you want to break up, stay single for a while then starting to feel empty and thinking that dating someone is the only solution.”

“Aren’t we all like that?! Tell me you’ve never thought of going on Tinder when you’re lonely!” he protests. “For a film major, you have a lot of time.”

“I have to observe people in order to survive,” you laugh. “Where do you think I get ideas? It’s from other people.”

Jisung is still forming a smart comment in his head when you tilt your head, flashing him a smile so sweet like you didn’t just indirectly diss him. “Your turn. What’s your theory?”

It’s kind of hard to believe, but Jisung has quite a lot of theories about love. He’s not what you’ll call experienced, but he knows enough to come up with his own theories. “Which one hurts more, dumping someone or getting dumped?”

“Getting dumped, of course. That’s not even a theory anymore.”

Jisung wiggles his index finger. “It’s the other way around. Before you break up with someone, you think of hundreds of reasons—whether blaming yourself or the other person. You’ll keep thinking about things you hate about them and shitty experiences with them before coming up with a perfect breakup scenario. And the whole process, Princess, is agonizing.”

“Wow,” you breathe out, amazed. “You’re something else.”

“Jisung-ah!”

Minho jogs to your table, stopping when he realizes that Jisung isn’t alone. “Thank God I found you,” he whispers urgently. “Listen, I know you’re in the middle of a date but this is emergency.”

“What is it?”

“Are you coming home tonight?” Minho asks.

Jisung frowns. “Of course I am. I need to sleep so bad.”

“Are you sure? If so, then…” Minho proceeds to type something on his phone before passing it to Jisung. The latter coughs at the content, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket and handing it to Minho. “If you lose it I’m going to kill you,” he threatens.

“Are you sure you’re coming—”

“Don’t worry, he’s definitely coming home. I’m not sleeping with him if that’s what you’re implying.”

Minho laughs, bowing playfully at you as he backs away. “Good choice!” he yells. “Have fun, you two!”

You giggle while Jisung curses under his breath. “He asked you for a condom, didn’t he?” Once again, you casually smile at him, eyes twinkling. Jisung slowly nods, and you burst into a hearty laugh. “I caught you carrying condoms in your wallet after you insisted that you’re not a fuckboy. Nice move, Han Jisung.”

Jisung groans.

“Are you done?” Jisung asks over the phone. After your “date,” it’s become a routine for him to visit you at the bookstore you work at to discuss the project (while subtly flirting with you because he wants to see you getting all sassy).

“Not yet,” you answer lowly. “My manager is here. You can come inside and wait.”

He forces his legs to walk faster and enters the bookstore. You wave at him from the cashier, gesturing at him to sit on one of the benches. You continue to serve the remaining customers, smiling at Jisung once in a while. He finds himself returning your smile with a bigger one, and he wonders how to convince you that he’s not as bad and shallow as you think.

A crazy idea pops into his mind, causing his palms to sweat. But he wants to do it, to at least try and see how you react. Jisung’s heart races when you say goodbye to your manager and approach him. You nudge his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

You shiver as soon as you open the door. “Where do you want to work?”

Jisung gestures at you to keep walking, giving you his phone and airpods. “You can just listen and give me feedback. I’ll edit once I get home, you must be tired.”

You keep repeating the song throughout the way to the bus station. You turn to Jisung when you’re done, punching his arm lightly. “Well done, this is much better. You can actually show it to Chan.”

“No way. Really?”

You press play once again, bopping your head to the soft beats. “The man tells the woman he loves her after a long time. It’s a happy moment, an achievement. Then he bids her farewell because he knows—both of them know—that the relationship will end badly. It’s sad, but relieving because at least they know what they feel about each other. The music is not sad, but it’s not happy either. It’s hopeful because the characters are going to start another journey, although without each other.”

“But you end it with that little piano sounds, so there’s a tinge of sadness left,” you continue. “And that’s wonderful. I think Chan will like it a lot.”

Jisung lets out the breath he doesn’t know he was holding. “You interpret it better than I ever will,” he mutters. “Thank you. I hope Chan won’t fire me now.”

“He won’t. He loves you and knows you’re talented,” you tell him. “Will you help me for my future projects? We have to create a short film for finals. I haven’t told you this, but I really love your style. I wish I could hear your songs more often.”

“I-I could just, y-you know, write you songs,” Jisung stutters. This is it.  He has to tell you now or he will regret it for the rest of his life.

“Huh?”

“I can write you all the songs you want. I can even write songs about you.”

“What songs? Like diss tracks?”

“I take requests, so I can write you a diss track if you want me to. And I can definitely write love songs about you.”

“How is that possible? You’re unbelievable.”

Jisung stops, clearing his throat before focusing his eyes on you. “Date me,” he enunciates. “Date me, so I can write love songs about you. Maybe later you’ll realize that boys like me aren’t always fuckboys. At least, I’m not. And I’ll give you the privilege to break my heart. I know you can do it.”

You gape at him. “You’re asking me out just to test our theories?”

Great, you think that it’s a stupid idea. Of course it is, why would you want to date him just to—

“Okay,” you add. “I’ll go out with you.”

“Holy shit,” Jisung yelps. “I thought you would beat me up.”

Leaning on the lamppost, you wink at him. “It’ll be fun. But I’ll break all of your bones the moment you start disrespecting me.”

Jisung stands straighter at your tone. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“So, what now? You’re taking me home?” you suggest.

“If you’ll let me.”

You extend your hand, and Jisung quickly takes it before you change your mind. The two of you walk in comfortable silence until you reach your neighborhood. “Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?” Jisung shyly asks, tightening his grip on your hand.

“Sure!” you chirp, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Good night, Jisung.”

“Good night Y/N.”

You give him a small wave, a cheerful smile plastered on your face.

Jisung waves back, unable to erase the stupid grin on his face. Oh, you’re so going to break his heart, and he won’t even try to stop you.

Verse 2: “I just want to be yours, completely yours.”

“You did not just tell me you like horror movies.”

The two of you are currently standing in front of the self-ticket machine, bickering over what movie you should watch. In turns out, your movie taste clash; Jisung lives for horror movies while you despise them. People behind him start snickering, so Jisung pulls you away from the queue.

“While we’re at it, tell me what kind of movies you watch,” he begins, trying to hide his amusement at your frustration. “I love everything, except for horror. But the ones I often watch may put you to sleep.”

“And now, if you don’t want to watch It 2, what do you want to watch?”

“Nothing really interests me,” you express. “It’s fine, let’s just watch this. I’ll pick the movie next time.”

Jisung beams. “My princess is so understanding,” he coos.

You roll your eyes at him, but not pushing him away when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “How do you not cringe everytime you call me that.”

He pokes your cheek. “Because I know you secretly like it, and I’ll do anything that makes you happy.”

“Wow, you sound like you’re really in love with me,” you blurt out, completely unaware of the effect your words have on him. Who knows? Maybe I will, soon.

Three hours later, Jisung figures that you’re already playing with his feelings. During the entire movie, you didn’t flinch nor close your eyes. You didn’t even hold his hand for support (to be very honest, Jisung was quite disappointed at this).

“Y/N.”

You get startled at his voice, automatically stopping on your track. “Now everything startles me.” You clutch your chest in shock. “I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“For someone who doesn’t like horror, you endured everything well inside the theater.”

“Curiosity always gets the best of me.”

“You could’ve chosen another movie, and I would be okay with that. Next time don’t force yourself, okay?”

“It’s something you love,” you explain. “I know you won’t force me to do things I don’t like, and I won’t force you either, but if it’s something that I can still tolerate then I don’t mind. It’s not like we can’t compromise, right?”

There you go, saying thoughtful things that warms Jisung’s heart so nonchalantly. He only hums in response, picking up his pace since you’ve started running. “I’m running late!” you half-yell before sprinting towards the bookstore.

After a few blocks, both of you arrive at the bookstore, almost running out of breath. Jisung fixes your hair in a haste. “I’ll pick you up later? Watch another movie, maybe? A funny one so you’ll be able to sleep?”

You scrunch up your nose. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just call you if Pennywise appears in my room.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re scarier than him, Princess, don’t worry.”

Jisung is prepared for a punch on his shoulder or strings of cussing words from you.

But you reward him with a peck on his cheek instead.

It’s been two hours since your shift was supposed to end, but Jisung hasn’t heard anything from you. His messages are unread and you won’t pick up his call. Minho watches his friend paces back and forth in the living room.

“Dude just pick her up or go to her place, you’re stressing me out!”

“I don’t know if she will like it. She did say I didn’t need to pick her up.”

“Are you really dating her? You’ve never been like this before.”

Jisung plops onto the sofa, massaging his temples. Minho won’t understand, especially since he’s the one who totally fits your “boys like you” criteria. “I am, but the whole thing is different.”

“Like, how?” Minho deadpans.

“We’re dating to test our theories about each other. About love.”

“So you two are just fooling around?”

“No!” Jisung insists. “It’s not like that. We’re dating, but I have to admit that things are getting more serious than I expected.”

Minho rubs his chin. “Isn’t that what you want? You seem to really like her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

The doorbell suddenly rings. Minho opens the door, surprised to see you there. “Y/N?” he gasps. “Are you okay? Are you crying?”

Jisung’s ears perk up at the word crying and he immediately rushes to you. He cradles your face, examining you from head to toe. “I was so worried Y/N. What the hell happened?” he questions. Minho grabs his phone and wallet from the buffet, mouthing that he’ll give the two of you some time alone.

You circle your arms around Jisung’s waist after Minho closes the door, wetting his sweatshirt with your tears. Jisung automatically takes you into his embrace, stroking your hair in the hopes of calming you down. “Some old man tried to make a pass at me,” you sob. “I almost slapped him but my friends stopped me. The owner has banned him from coming.”

Jisung tightens his hold on you, guilt starting to overtake him. He should have come to you, he should have just come to you. Why did he hesitate? “Motherfucker,” he splutters. “God—I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Why are you saying sorry?” you try to laugh. “I’m fine, Jisung. I’m just… mad. And a little bit scared, but I’m okay. Seriously though, men have no manners.”

“I know,” he replies. “I’m sorry. I hope it won’t ever happen again. I won’t let it happen, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

You snort, pulling away to pinch his cheeks. “Then who’s gonna protect you? I know you watch horror movies well but everything else scares you.”

Jisung’s lips stretch into a loving smile, wiping your tears with his hands. “I’ll try my best. You can trust me,” he says. “Should I take you home now?”

You seem to consider his offer before burying your face in chest again. Jisung hopes you can’t hear his heart beating violently due to the close proximity. “Jisung, you okay?” you hum. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

Of course, he won’t be able to fool you.

“Yeah. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“Can I sleep over?”

Jisung separates you from his body before you can hear his heart jumping out of its ribcage. “All I can think about is Pennywise now,” you sigh, searching for approval in his eyes. Jisung feels his legs weaken, so he squeezes your shoulders. “You sure? Do you feel comfortable sleeping in my room with Minho sleeping next door? Oh fuck it, why am I encouraging you to change your mind? Of course you can sleep over. You can trust me, and you can trust Minho too. And it’s not that I’ll even let him touch a strand of your hair!” he blabbers.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Minho’s name. “Lee Minho is hot, I don’t mind having him around.”

“You go around declaring that men have no manners and boys like me are fuckboys yet you don’t mind having Lee fucking Minho around?!”

Once again, you wrap your arms around his waist, and Jisung wastes no time in returning your hug although his eyes are angry now. “I have you, right? You’re not an asshole, you won’t let anything happen to me.”

Jisung sighs in defeat, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re impossible.”

After putting you to bed (with much difficulty because you kept commenting at how messy his room is), Jisung finds himself lying on the couch, staring at his room. Minho is already back and is now asleep (but not before he gave his roommate a whole warning to not say anything that can damage Jisung’s reputation).

Are you sleeping well? Are you still sad? Do you really think that Minho is hot or were you just playing with him?

His questions seem to reach your mind because seconds later, you slide the door open. You walk towards him, kneeling down to see him better. “JIsung-ah,” you call out softly. “Are you asleep?”

Jisung blinks, heat rising to his cheeks because you’re staring at him so intensely. “Not yet. What is it? You can���t sleep?”

“You can sleep inside, it’s cold out here,” you whisper. “It’s fine, I can sleep anywhere like a log.” He rubs your hand. “Go back to sleep.”

Jisung sits up when you don’t budge. “What if I also want you to be next to me?” you murmur, but he hears everything loud and clear. He carries you back inside his room with saying a word, hoping that this isn’t just a test he will fail.

He lays you down gently, which surprises himself since he tends to do everything in a rush. Jisung settles himself beside you, ready to finally sleep when you scoot closer and put your arms around his torso. “Thank you for today,” you say.

Jisung turns around to face you, slowly pulling you into his arms. “What did I do?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Being there for me,” you reply. “You didn’t doubt me, you didn’t blame me.”

Jisung lifts your chin so he can look into your eyes. “Why would I blame you? You really should’ve kicked that man’s ass.”

You break into a smile, and Jisung can’t hold himself anymore. The feeling of you in his embrace, your smile, the way you look at him, and the warmth of your words are driving him crazy. Jisung realizes it’s always been like that since the very first time he met you: you’ve always driven him crazy.

“Y/N.” He licks his lips. “I want to start over. I want us to date without thinking about the goddamn theories. I don’t care about them anymore. I just want to be yours, completely yours. I’m not saying this only because I want to date, I only want to date you. And I don’t want to think about breaking up with you once we finish proving those theories. I won’t be able to handle it, I like you too much.”

You blink at him, staring at him long and intense Jisung feels like burning. You cup his face, tilting your head to peck him on the lips. It ends way too soon for his liking, but he already wants to faint.

“Aren’t I your Princess already? That means you’re automatically mine.”

Jisung chuckles, a huge burden is lifted off his chest as you snuggle to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Nice move, Han Jisung. Confessing to me when I’m in your bed and feeling sentimental as hell.”

“Sorry Princess, but you’re too irresistible. I just gotta make you mine right here, right now.”

“Go to sleep.”

“As you wish,” he sighs dreamily, peppering kisses on the top of your head until you fall asleep.

“Where are you? The food is ready.”

Jisung rummages through his pile of clothes on the floor, picking up a random black shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. His phone is on the bed, speaker on so he could actually get ready while you’re hollering at him.

“I’ll be on my way soon, Princess. Please don’t get mad,” he pleads.

“I took a day off from my part-time job for you, Jisung. But you’re acting like my time isn’t precious at all,” you answer, a little softer this time. Jisung chews the inside of his cheek; you’re right. He’s always late although he barely has time to meet you thesedays.

He swears he doesn’t mean to, but whenever he’s about to meet you, misfortunes always happen: his alarm doesn’t go off, he has an appointment he can’t cancel, or he’s too tired to get out of his bed. You get into petty arguments whenever you meet, but you forgive him every single time although Jisung himself knows he’s being stubborn. As he slips on his shirt, Jisung wonders if this is the beginning of the end.

“Okay,” you finally mumble. “Be careful.”

Jisung ends the call, running as fast as he can to your apartment complex. He considers taking the stairs, but remembers that you live on the 20th floor and decides to wait for the elevator. When he finally enters your flat, his eyes brim with tears.

You’re sleeping on the sofa, two portions of jjajjangmyeon along with a bowl of caramel popcorn are on the table. The television is on, ready to play Along with the Gods because Jisung wants to re-watch it tonight.

He’s the luckiest man on Earth yet he keeps disappointing you. It pains him how small mistakes may really destroy both of you.

Jisung crouches down, wiping his tears quickly before planting a kiss on your lips. You stir, opening your eyes.

“Hi,” you yawn. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“I missed you,” Jisung rasps. “So much.”

He pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his tense muscles relaxing when you hum knowingly against his skin. “I missed you too. Wanna talk about it?” you offer, patting his back softly.

“About what?”

“You had a bad day.”

“And you’re sleepy,” he retorts. “Let’s just sleep.”

“Not before you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Jisung gives up, deciding to tell you how swamped he is with projects and how everything doesn’t seem to go his way. You listen to him—although through half-lidded eyes—giving him all suggestions and reassurance he doesn’t even know he needs.

Sometimes Jisung still thinks about the theories both of you wanted to prove months ago. He remembers how sure he was that yours was wrong. He was not an insensitive asshole.

Maybe he is now. And you don’t deserve it.

The thing is, Jisung is selfish. Losing you is something he fears the most, and now, surrounded by your warmth and soft caresses, he makes a silent promise to fix everything. To make himself worthy of you and your love again.

“Y/N.” He lifts himself up just enough to see your face, smiling at your sleepy face. “I love you.”

You freeze, eyes boring into his, trying to look for traces of lies. He stays in his position and waits for you to say something, anything, before his heart explodes and breaks into a million pieces.

“You do, now?” you reply, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Jisung waits for you to say it back, but you soon fall asleep in his arms.

Jisung had the best dream ever. He dreamed of going on vacation with you, and you always wore your brightest smile that he loved so much.  But that wasn’t even the best part.

In his dream, you told him that you loved him.

In reality, Jisung wakes up to an empty bed. He checks his phone, relieved to see some messages from you.

princess : hv some cereal before you go, but pls wash the dishes

princess: dont forget to make the bed or ur dead

me: im a slave 4 u, ma’am, dont worry

The tone of your messages doesn’t change, and for now it’s enough to soothe his heart. Jisung makes the bed as you requested before examining your room. He’s seen all his photos you pinned on the wall, but now you’ve written comments underneath some of them.

Jisung’s eyes fall on a photo of him munching on his chocolate. The comment reads, “Please eat more, you’re too skinny.”

Another photo sees him sitting in front of his laptop with his headphones on. “You’re the coolest composer, you know that, right?”

Jisung recognizes the last photo as the one taken during one of your beach dates (in which he dragged Minho to be his designated photographer). You had begged him for a piggy back ride, and he eventually caved. Jisung flaunted his gummy smile as you pressed your lips on his right cheek. Underneath the photo, you wrote, “Jisung-ah, I’m so happy with you. Thank you.”

He wonders why you keep all these thoughts to yourself. These are your love letters for him, they beat all the “Han Jisung, I love you too” scenarios Jisung have inside his head. Why wouldn’t you just tell him that? Is it because he hasn’t been the best boyfriend thesedays?

After taking a photo of your “love shrine” (for blackmail purposes), Jisung leaves his notebooks inside one of your drawers, the ones filled with lyrics he wrote for you and about you. You wrote him the sweetest love letters, and he’s going to fulfill the promise he made when he asked you out.

You deserve to know every little detail of his feelings for you.

“Y/N… about last night… are you mad at me? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stop flicking through channels, dropping the remote to ponder Jisung’s question. “Yeah, I am,” you admit. “But we’ve fought enough. I don’t wanna waste my energy.”

“So you’re going to let me be a jerk?! What if I never snapped out of it? What if I never apologized to you? Or feel guilty?! You have to beat the shit out of me, Y/N. You can’t be this nice!”

You prop your chin on your knees, closing your eyes. “Last night, I planned to break up with you.”

Jisung pales at your confession. “Princess, I’m—”

“Please hear me out first,” you cut him off. “These past few weeks have been tough, I honestly thought you cheated on me. When you were late again last night, I told myself to end things with you. But then I fucking fell asleep, and then as soon as I saw you, I didn’t want to do it anymore. Plus you looked like a mess last night.”

“I kept wondering if we’re trapped in a toxic relationship. And it angered me. I hated myself for keep wanting to forgive you. When you told me that you love me… I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know whether you were being sincere or just caught up in the moment.”

Tears start rolling down your cheeks. “That’s why I didn’t answer. This morning, I decided to give you one last chance.”

“Did I… ruin it?” Jisung asks sheepishly, wiping your tears gently.

You shake your head. “I acted like nothing happened, but you still apologized. And complained about me not telling you about this sooner.”

“So that means…?”

“That means,” you begin. “Your theory is right. Dumping someone feels worse than getting dumped. Yesterday, memories of us fighting flooded my mind as I created a whole speech in my head about how much I hated you. It made me wanna explode, and that was the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. Resentment is tiring, but the moment you stepped into the living room I know I don’t hate you.”

Jisung heaves a sigh of relief, placing his hand on top of yours carefully. “And your theory is wrong. You broke my heart. You truly did. I told you I love you, and when you didn’t say it back… I felt horrible... although I know it’s all my fault. You have me wrapped around your finger, Princess, I hope you know that.”

“Anyways, I saw your lovely comments for me on the photos,” he teases, knowing you meant to keep it a secret.

“Fucking hell!” you yell. “I forgot to hide them!”

“Why don’t you tell me now, then.”

Your lips curl into a teasing smile. “If I tell you I love you now, will you kiss me?”

Before you even properly say it, Jisung is already hovering over you, cupping your face and crashing his lips on yours. It just occurs to him that he’s never kissed you like this; it was always light pecks here and there. Jisung doesn’t know how he survived that, because nothing beats feeling your lips moving against his. Nothing beats the feeling of you tugging his hair, sighing in contentment when he starts exploring your warm mouth. Jisung tries to remember every single sensation; the way you curl your arms around his neck, the way you keep pulling him down to you as if he’s not close enough, the way you squirm as he nibbles your bottom lip gently.

“I love you,” you whisper in between feverish kisses he leaves every now and then. He pauses, finally letting himself breathe. You hold stars in your eyes, and those stars are all for him to see. It’s overwhelming, so all Jisung does is pressing another kiss on your lips. Moments later, when the lack of oxygen forces him to stop, he pulls away.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, trying to stop himself from kissing you again because he needs to tell you this first.

“For…?”

“Loving me.”

Chan’s graduation project has finally been screened, earning a standing ovation from everybody present. He invited all his crew to dinner, which has turned into a congratulatory party for Jisung and you. “You two didn’t disappoint me,” Chan exclaims. “I guess you’re the reason why Jisung finished his demo early, right Y/N?”

You wink cockily at him. “Han Jisung is nothing without me.”

Chan ruffles your hair before raising his hand to get everyone’s attention. “My last few months as a student felt amazing thanks to you guys. I’m sure you all know how thankful I am for each of you, so I won’t bore you with my speech. Now, Seungmin, I believe you have something to say.”

Kim Seungmin stands up, unfolding a piece of paper that sparks mixed reactions from the crowd. “Lee Felix, Hwang Hyunjin, Choi Jisu,” he announces. “Each of you owes ₩20,000 to me, Chan, and Shin Yuna because you guys freaking lost!” He claps, then turning to both of you. “Jisung and Y/N, thank you for making us rich!”

Everyone cheers while you and Jisung look dumbfounded. “All of you bet on us?!” you scream in disbelief. “Whoa I can’t believe you guys! Even you, Chan?”

The senior only chuckles. “Everyone was stressed out at how slow you two were but you guys were so annoyingly cute we couldn’t help ourselves!”

Seungmin collects all the money from the lost participants before distributing it to each of the winners. When he gets to Chan, the latter shakes his head. “Just use the money for round 2, I’ll pay the rest as well.”

The whole room cheers again, quickly getting up from their seats and debating about which place to go. You immediately start interrogating Seungmin, wanting to know what exactly happened during the whole production process.

Jisung taps Chan’s shoulder. “I believe I haven’t thanked you.”

Chan frowns. “For what?”

Jisung slips his hands into his jeans pocket, smiling at you as you turn around to check on him. “For making the whole project happened. For the whole, ‘Sometimes it’s not about fate or timing. It’s about choice.’ It kept me going, even when I thought Y/N and I weren’t meant to be. There are times when we just have to keep trying, aren’t we?”

“Well, thank you for remembering what I said. But it wasn’t me. It happened because you did try, Jisung. All of us have to make choices at some point, but not a lot of people actually have strength and will to do that. You did, so kudos to you. I’m trying to do the same myself, wish me luck, okay?”

Jisung snorts. “This is getting sappy, but thank you. And I will.”

Both boys laugh, exchanging playful slaps on each other’s back until you come up to them.

“Hey Chan, can I borrow Jisung for a sec?”

Chan shoves Jisung towards you. “If I catch you two sneaking out before round 2 is done, I’ll end you!”

You wave at Chan, and Jisung is now glued to your side. “What is it?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. “I found your notebooks.”

He grins. “You did? I thought I’d have to tell you about them. They’re nice, right? I’ve recorded some of them, I’ll let you listen later.”

You cross your arms. “The ones in the black notebook are nice. I’m a goddess and I agree. But what are you gonna say about the red notebook?”

Jisung smirks at your question, dropping a quick kiss on your lips. “What about it? You wanna make everything I wrote there come true? I can do that, Princess. Whenever you want,” he whispers seductively.

His original plan was only to leave you the black notebook that contains all the sweetest lyrics he’s ever written. But then he thought it wouldn’t be fair if you only know that side of him. You have every right to know about his sexy thoughts too.

“I just want you to know me. All of me. And everything I feel about you, including the things I really, really want to do to you,” he continues.

You tiptoe to whisper into his ear, “Maybe later.”

“Later?!” Jisung shouts. “Later as in tonight?!”

You shrug, and now Jisung is dragging you to the opposite direction of where his friends are going. “Chan hyung! You can nag us later but we really need to go home right now!”

Everyone whistles, including Chan, so Jisung takes it as a yes and quickens his pace. You, meanwhile, are looking at the snacks stalls along the street.

“I’m still hungry. Let’s stop by to buy hotteok first.”

Groaning in frustration, Jisung knows he has no choice but to follow you. As he watches you enjoying your hotteok, he thinks about the moment when he desperately wanted to prove you wrong.

Jisung has nothing to prove now. You gave his heart a chance. You gave him a chance, and he’ll make sure to cherish you as long as he can.

more a/n: and it’s done! This story seems simple but writing it, I think the theme is a little bit hard to grasp. I hope you guys can understand everything that Jisung feels... 

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta'd by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson

Chapter Eight The Wedding Reception

Ginny did not hear much of Bill and Fleur’s vows. The ceremony was lovely, really, and Fleur looked stunning, of course. Her beauty was so radiant that it made Bill, with his scars and all, more handsome just for standing beside her. Fleur was dressed in a silvery white gown and Ginny and Gabrielle in gold, and there were Flutterby bushes and golden balloons — all of it was absolutely wonderful, but by the time Bill and Fleur exchanged their first married kiss, all Ginny could think of was how much she would like to sit down.

Despite the painful pressure on her toes, she stood beside Gabrielle and Charlie as the wedding guests came to offer their congratulations and a photographer snapped shots of the wedding party. Charlie ran a hand through his short hair, probably missing all of the inches Molly had cut off last night just as much as Ginny was missing her trainers. Gabrielle fidgeted discreetly with the small bouquet, better poised than Ginny but probably just as eager to be done standing in front of a crowd.

Still, Ginny smiled as a dozen Weasley relatives paraded by and wished Bill and Fleur well. There were half as many Delacours, all with the grace and charm that Fleur, her mother, and sister shared, and all clearly descended from the same Veela grandmother.

Hagrid and Madame Maxime came to give their well-wishes, too. Hagrid wiped tears from his eyes after greeting the happy couple, and he stopped to shake Charlie’s hand.

“How’s Norbert?” he asked.

Charlie grinned. “She’s Norberta, and she’s vicious. She’s doing just fine on her own.”

Madame Maxime said something in French to Gabrielle, and Ginny tried not to look bored as she scanned the line of well-wishers. Xenophilius Lovegood’s bright yellow robes stood out like the first bloom after a frost. She did not see Luna nearby, but she did see the Potters, the Lupins, and the Longbottoms clustered together — with Sirius Black, of course.

She met Harry's eyes and straightened her posture. She thoroughly enjoyed the way his ears darkened as he looked at her. Great-Aunt Muriel may have complained about the cut of Ginny’s dress, but Ginny had no complaints, and she didn’t think Harry did either.

Her dad had suggested that the Potters disguise themselves for the wedding, but in the end, the Potters had decided that it wasn’t necessary. It would be obvious who they really were unless they distanced their false appearances from everyone they knew, and in that case, Lily had pointed out, why attend a wedding at all. Ginny was glad for it, because it meant she could kiss Harry openly.

“You look stunning,” he said, as his parents congratulated Bill and Fleur.

She grinned, and for a moment, forgot about her shoes. “Thanks. You look nice too.”

Harry looked down at his robes. Apart from his new watch chain, they were the same robes that he had worn to Dumbledore’s funeral, but she hadn’t said anything about them then. It hadn’t seemed right, even though she had thought it. Harry cleaned up well, and she liked that his hair never flattened properly. It made him look roguish and rebellious, qualities she had always appreciated in her heroes.

“Oh, ‘arry,” Fleur interrupted, turning from James and Lily for a moment, “Papa ‘as inseested zat we take a photo with all of ze Champions. I will find you after ze dance, oui?”

“Er — sure.”

Ginny squeezed Harry’s hands. “Could you save me a seat? I think the line’s almost done with.”

“You don’t want to dance?”

“I would like nothing more than to sit down and kick off these shoes for a minute, please.”

“Alright, then.” He glanced nervously at his parents, but when he saw they were turned away to say something to the Longbottoms, he kissed her.

Ginny, who had done everything she could to abandon shyness, could not help but find Harry’s embarrassment cute. Perhaps it was foolish of her to think she liked everything about Harry, and maybe someday she would grow annoyed with his modesty around his parents, but right now, she loved everything — well, almost everything.

She had to admit, she was not fond of this dangerous quest business. Though she had always admired Harry for his bravery and his commitment to doing the right thing, she wished that didn’t come with a year of separation for them. It was hard not to feel abandoned, even though she knew that wasn’t the truth of the matter at all.

At least she knew that the mirror was tucked safely in her trunk. She did feel some guilt about having taken it from James and Lily — but not enough to return it.

And anyway, she did not truly believe that Harry would be separated from them all together. James, Lily, and Sirius would not let Harry be on his own for long. They didn’t need the mirror, not as much as she did.

At least, that was what she told herself, and what she had told Hermione when Hermione had asked her if this was the right choice.

The band began to play the song for Bill and Fleur’s first dance, and Ginny slipped away as quickly as she could without seeming anxious to get away. She found Harry seated at a table with Luna, Neville, Ron, and Hermione, and she gratefully sank into the open seat next to Harry.

“You look lovely, Ginny,” Luna said with a smile.

Ginny smiled and reached down to undo the strap of her heel. “You do too, Luna.”

Luna smiled. Her robes were as brightly colored as her father’s, and while they stood out, they suited Luna.

“I told Daddy everyone would be in dress robes,” she said, “but he believes you ought to wear sun colours to a wedding, for luck, you know.”

Ginny looked down at her gold dress. “Close enough.”

The tent was filled with applause as the song ended. The band followed up with another slow waltz; Ginny’s father took Mrs. Delacour’s hand, and Mr. Delacour took her mother’s. Slowly, the dance floor filled with couples.

“Oh, I love this song,” Luna said dreamily, and stood.

“Er — could I join you?” Neville asked, his cheeks bright pink.

Luna beamed.

Ron pursed his lips as Luna twirled in a circle and pulled Neville into the spin with her. He stumbled over his own feet, but successfully avoided a full sprawl into the floor.

“I suppose that fits alright,” Ron said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny asked, not caring to shield the acid in her voice.

“Er — you know. They’re just… er — Hermione, care for a dance?”

Hermione looked pleased to be asked, and readily took Ron’s hand.

Ginny frowned as Ron disappeared into the crowd. She felt particularly protective of Luna and Neville, having briefly dated each of them — or at least, she had gone on a date with each of them. Though neither outing had formed into a lasting relationship, she cared very much for the two of them, and did not think it fair of Ron to disparage them in any way.

Next to her, Harry stifled a yawn, and Ginny leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Not sleeping well without me?” she teased.

He hummed thoughtfully, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He did not answer her question, though.

Harry had a habit of getting lost in his own head. She had first noticed it during their shared summer in Grimmauld Place. His vacant expression would appear towards the end of meals, or sometimes in the middle of cleaning. Hermione had speculated that it might be the side-effect of a dementor attack, but Ginny knew better, because Ginny still got lost in her own mind from time to time. Sometimes, it was just too easy to walk the paths of dark memories. She didn’t know why her mind veered towards dangerous corridors habitually, like a familiar road home, but she worked very hard to tread new paths, to forge brighter places to walk. She wanted Harry to forge those new paths, too.

“Harry?” Ginny asked. “You still in there?”

“Er — sorry. Just… Do you know someone named Gregorovitch?”

Ginny frowned and racked her brain for the name. She came up blank. “You don’t mean Gorgovitch? From the Chudley Cannons?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were still distant, still wandering “No. I don’t think so. But maybe it does have something to do with Quidditch…”

“Where did you hear it?”

“In a dream.”

Ginny shook her head. “Well, I can’t think of any Quidditch players named Gregorovitch. At least not in Britain.” She was about to suggest Harry ask Ron, though she doubted Ron would have any better ideas, when she saw Viktor Krum standing near the dance floor, with a drink in his hand, chatting with Cedric Diggory.

“You could ask Krum,” she suggested. “He probably knows the names of loads more international players than I do.”

Harry’s brow creased. “Krum… — Oh, no. Fleur’s found them.”

“She’s waving you over.” Ginny slid her shoes back on and regretted it instantly. Her feet throbbed before she had even finished fastening the straps.

“I don’t want to pose for anymore Triwizard Champions photos.”

“Don’t worry; there won’t be another until they trot you all out in a hundred years to revive the competition, when you’re all withered and grey. Take this one. It’s the last one you’ll look good in.”

Harry laughed, and Ginny smiled, despite her feet. She took his hand as they left their seats.

“Venez vite!” Fleur said, waving her hand. Even as hurried as she was, she made the wave look graceful.

Harry picked up his pace with a strained smile. Ginny lagged behind, afraid to tumble in her tight, tall shoes.

She wondered how much more of this there would be if Harry survived the war, how many more photographs Harry would be dragged into. He was The Chosen One, the saviour of the Wizarding World, and five years from now, ten years from now… How would she fit into all of that?

Ginny hastily banished the thought. She didn’t like to think that far into the future. It was full of too much uncertainty. If Harry survived. If Ron survived. If Hermione survived. If her parents survived, her brothers —

For now, she was just happy to have today.

“They really do make quite the intimidating set,” a young man beside Ginny said.

She frowned up at the vaguely familiar face, tried to place the pale blonde hair and green eyes. He was graceful enough to be a cousin of Fleur’s but something nagged in her that she had seen him at Hogwarts before.

He carried two drinks, but he did not offer one to her. When he realised she was staring, he raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t remember me? That’s alright. You were about waist-high last time we met. I’m Christian Thelborne. I’d shake your hand, but —” He held up the two goblets apologetically.

His name slid into Ginny’s memory like a nail splintering wood. He was a former Gryffindor prefect, and during her first year at Hogwarts, he had caught her out of bed after hours. He had walked her back to Gryffindor Tower and had promised not to mention a word of their encounter to Percy. Ginny didn’t remember much about that night, except that she had been stressed to the point of tears, and Percy scolding her had been just a tiny part of that stress.

“Sorry,” she said, and tried to focus on the balloons that drifted behind Christian’s head, rather than recalling that dark Hogwarts corridor. “I don’t remember much of my first year.”

“I try not to remember mine, either,” he said with a grimace. “Fell flat on my face in my first flying lesson. Put me off Quidditch forever.”

Ginny laughed politely, grateful for the shift in conversation. Her gratitude, however, did not last long.

“Percy says you’re a fair flyer yourself.”

“More than fair,” she said, perhaps a bit more heatedly than Christian deserved, but not nearly as much as Percy deserved.

“Shame he isn’t here. I was looking forward to slipping a Cockroach Cluster into his drink for old times’ sake.”

“I’m sure he’s working,” she snapped, and wished desperately for Christian to stop talking.

“Scrimgeour gave him the day off, actually. I’m not sure that makes it any better, knowing he had a choice.”

Ginny bit down on her tongue to refrain from making any further disparaging comments, and to simply end the conversation. She had spent the hour before the ceremony consoling her mother, who had tearfully suggested they should delay another ten minutes, twenty minutes, that perhaps he was running late, perhaps he had gotten stuck or splinched. She would not add to her mother’s grief by letting her know that Scrimgeour had given Percy leave to attend today, and Percy had still refused it.

Her silence, apparently, communicated all of that better than her acrid tone had.

“I’m sorry,” Christian said. “He and I were good friends once upon a time. I just thought — ah, it looks like our boys have finished with the spotlight for now.”

Fleur kissed each of her fellow Champions on the cheek and flitted off to greet other guests. Ginny hoped that Fleur would pause for a moment to eat or enjoy Bill’s company, but she doubted a bride was afforded that sort of privilege on her wedding day. Ginny privately vowed that whenever that day came for her, she would only have close friends nearby, and it would be nothing more ostentatious than a Quidditch Cup victory celebration.

The only trick to it would be making sure her mother didn’t catch wind of the wedding until it was about to begin.

Now that the photographs had concluded, Ginny and Christian rejoined the group of Champions. Ginny wrapped her arm around Harry’s, and thought he looked just as relieved to be done with photographs as she was to be free of her uncomfortable conversation with Christian. Christian handed one of his glasses to Cedric.

“Thanks,” Cedric said, and took a sip of the drink “Harry, I don’t know if you’ve met Christian Thelborne —”

“I’m surprised we haven’t met yet,” Christian said, and shook Harry’s hand. “I was a prefect for Gryffindor your first few years at Hogwarts. Your mother was one of my favourite professors.”

“Er — sorry I don’t remember you,” Harry said.

“You had a lot going on those first few years. And every year thereafter, from what Cedric’s said.”

“I think we all had a lot going on,” Cedric said. “They ought to change the school motto to ‘never an uneventful year.’”

“Not a bad idea. My first year, a curse had people Sleepwalking into the Forbidden Forest,” Christian said, with a laugh that didn’t match his words. “Had all of us firsties terrified to go to bed at night.”

Krum frowned. “That sounds horrible.”

“A student was killed in my first year,” Cedric said, staring thoughtfully into his glass. “I didn’t know them but it certainly… set a tone.”

Ginny had only been eight years old that year, but she remembered when Charlie had come home from Hogwarts. He hadn’t been the same Charlie that hed left. Sure, he would still coax gnomes out of their garden with treats and still fall asleep in the chicken coop, but he had quit Quidditch and spent more time on his own than playing with her that summer.

Tragedy changed people. It had changed her, it had changed Harry — and her gut twisted as she considered that tragedy was far from over for all of them.

Ginny swallowed and pushed down her fears. In search of a lighter topic of conversation, she asked, “Krum, how are the playoffs shaping up?”

“Senegal looks very good this year,” Krum said quickly, clearly grateful for the lifeline. “Ve vere supposed to play Ireland last week but Ryan did not show and they had to forfeit. It vas not the satisfying rematch I had hoped for.”

“Didn’t I read that you’re practically qualified for the Cup already?” Cedric asked.

“Perhaps. Ve are doing vell in our group, but I do not think ve vill get very far in the playoffs.” Krum shrugged, but Ginny could see the disappointment in his dark eyes. “Vat about you, Cedric, and you, Harry? Vill either of you be going out for a team for the next Cup?”

“I don’t think I’m quite good enough,” Harry admitted. “Maybe in a few years — I mean, I’ve only really won the school championship one time. Every other time, well, it was mostly Ginny. Maybe you’ll be playing against her in a few years.”

“Perhaps I vill.” Krum said. “If she is as good a flyer as you vere vith that dragon, she vill have no trouble finding a team.”

“She’s much better,” Harry promised.

Ginny could not contain her smile. “I’ll see you at the oh-two cup, certainly.”

“I am counting on it,” Krum said with a small nod and a faint smile, something Ginny did not think he showed very often.

Krum’s smile, however, was brief. It turned into a rather dark scowl at something over Ginny’s shoulder. “Who is that?” he asked, voice low. “And vat is he vearing?”

Ginny glanced behind her, unsure what had Krum so angry. She squinted at the crowd of guests, most seated and talking or filling the dance floor. No one stood out as particularly offensive, except perhaps the Lovegoods’ bright yellow robes.

“D’you mean Xenophilius Lovegood?” Harry asked. “I think yellow robes are supposed to be lucky at a wedding, or something.”

“No,” Krum said. “I do not mean his robes. I mean the symbol around his neck.”

Ginny had to squint to see the silver charm dangling from the chain around Xenophilius’ neck. She hadn’t noticed it when he had greeted the wedding party, but she had been preoccupied by everything else he was wearing. She didn’t recognise the strange triangle enclosing a round eye, but surely it was just another Lovegood eccentricity.

Christian, though, made a noise of disgust that matched Krum’s scowl. “I can’t imagine someone would be comfortable sporting Grindelwald’s symbol like that, and in this crowd no less.”

“Grindelwald?” Ginny frowned. “The Dark wizard?”

“It does have a history beyond Grindelwald,” Christian said, “but that doesn’t really matter. I remember assigning a mouthy Ravenclaw a week of detention for etching it into one of his textbooks.”

“There vere always supporters of Grindelvald at Durmstrang, even after his imprisonment in Nurmengard, and those of us who had lost family to Grindelvald vere alvays happy to put them in their place.”

Harry stared at Krum. “I didn’t know…”

“Vy vould you? My grandfather was just one of many that he killed. Grindelvald vas never as poverful in this country. You do not learn his history apart from Dumbledore defeating him.”

“I was taught plenty, but my great-grandfather died fighting Grindelwald.” Christian took another sip of his drink. “I’m named after him.”

Harry looked surprised. “Er — me too. My great-grandfather fought Grindelwald, and that’s why my parents named me after him.”

Christian raised his eyebrows. “An honour we get to share in, then. May we each do them proud.”

Cedric, in a very small and easy to miss gesture, reached for Christian’s hand and squeezed it. Christian did not react, but Ginny wondered how many conversations they must have had about Grindelwald, and about Voldemort.

“Ve vill all do our part,” Krum said, and pulled out his wand to Refill his glass.

Harry stiffened, suddenly, and blurted out, “Gregorovitch!”

Krum frowned. “Yes?”

“Er — nothing. Nevermind. Sorry. I just remembered your wand wasn’t made by Ollivander, that’s all.”

“Is that important?”

“I just — er — was trying to remember — I thought —”

Ginny had always found Harry to be a terrible liar, but he was floundering spectacularly in this moment. She decided to lend him a hand.

“His mum lost her wand in a duel,” Ginny supplied. “With Ollivander still missing, we weren't sure where she might get a replacement.”

Krum nodded. “I haff heard of Ollivander’s disappearance. But I am afraid Gregorovitch cannot help your mother. He retired years ago. I vos one of the last to purchase a vand from him.”

“Lily Potter doesn’t have a wand?” Christian asked with a slight frown.

“When Yaxley blew up my parents’ home,” Cedric said, “he nearly took Lily with it.”

“You didn’t mention that she was there.”

Cedric shrugged. “I didn't think it mattered.”

But Cedric did not meet Christian’s eyes, and Christian stared at him with a frown that Ginny was unfortunately familiar with. She had too much experience with half-spoken fights and half-hidden secrets in relationships. Though she knew that Cedric and Christian would have to discuss this, perhaps a wedding was not the best place for it.

“How is staying with Mad-Eye?” she asked Cedric. “I imagine coming home must require thirteen passwords and seven incantations.”

Cedric gave her a smile, full of relief and humour in equal measure. “You're half-right. I had never loved my job more than the days when coming home meant facing an Azkaban-level interrogation. It's nice to be shot of that, finally.”

Harry frowned. “Have your parents fixed your house already?”

“Well, Christian’s lease was up, and he and Anne wanted a bigger space, so he asked —”

“Begged,” Christian corrected with a smile.

“Fine, Christian begged me to move in with him.”

“It took weeks of convincing. While I would love to see Yaxley in Azkaban, I can't help but think if he hadn’t forced you to live with Mad-Eye, you never would have agreed.”

“When are you moving in?” Harry asked.

Ginny frowned at Harry, and tried to understand why there was anger in his question. Christian, despite his inane need to bring up her estranged brother and his distaste for Quidditch, seemed pleasant enough. Why shouldn't Harry be happy that Cedric had an easy escape from Mad-Eye’s house?

“This morning,” Cedric said. “We’ve got a good deal of unpacking to do tonight.” He turned to Krum. “Do you have a match tomorrow? If not, come over and help. Anne’s promised to have some bottles ready to break the place in.”

Ginny laced her fingers into Harry’s suddenly tight fist. She did not understand his frustration, but she knew it would be best to get them both away to talk about it.

“Harry,” she said, “I’m afraid my feet are killing me. Can we sit down?”

Once they had made their polite exit and were well away from Christian, Cedric, and Krum, Ginny asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. He pulled out a seat for her at an empty table, but she did not take it.

“Harry James Potter, don't you lie to me after I gave you a lovely out from a conversation that upset you.”

He grimaced and she thought she ought to use his full name more often.

“It's just —” He ran his hand through his hair. “I thought Cedric was leaving with me, that's all. But it certainly sounded like he was making plans for the opposite.”

Ginny, glad that Harry had given her the honest answer, took a seat. “It could be a cover.”

“Then why only agree to move in with Christian after Yaxley’s attack?” he asked, and practically fell into the seat beside her. “That was less than a week ago, and we had just talked about…” Harry glanced around, but there did not appear to be anyone listening. He leaned closer to Ginny and lowered his voice all the same. “Hermione and Ron put all this effort into disappearing without getting caught. But Cedric’s making more commitments, and even long-term plans. It doesn't sound like he’s thinking about hunting… you-know-whats. I just wish he had told me that he had changed his mind, I guess.”

Ginny frowned. Cedric was not the sort who backed away from a fight. He might take a while to get there, but he showed up. He had supported Harry in the interview with Rita Skeeter, and had even taken what he could of Umbridge’s abuse in order to shield Harry. He had insisted on following Harry into the Department of Mysteries, even when Regulus had advised against it. She did not think Cedric would abandon Harry now, not when they were so close to finishing this.

“I’m sure Cedric knows what he’s doing,” she finally said.

“I don't know how I would do this without him.”

Ginny squeezed his hand. She, too, did not know what she would do if Ron, Hermione, and Harry had to strike out on their own. Knowing that Cedric and Regulus were involved in this quest gave her some peace of mind. Yes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were of age now but it wasn’t the same as Cedric, who was nearly a full-fledged Auror, or Regulus, who had fought in the first war, albeit on the wrong side.

“Why are you dreaming about a foreign wandmaker?” she asked, and grabbed a bottle of champagne that drifted past Harry’s head.

Harry watched her pour the champagne into two flutes. He did not answer right away, and she wondered if he was searching for a lie. Then he said, “I think Voldemort’s hunting him. I don’t know why. He has Ollivander…”

“You’re dreaming about Ollivander, too?”

Harry grimaced. “Sort of.”

“Is that… safe?” Ginny didn’t know much about Harry’s Occlumency lessons with Snape, but she did remember his parents had valued Occlumency over their hatred of Umbridge, and that said a lot.

“You mean is Ollivander safe? He isn’t.”

“I mean your dreams, Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “Safe or not, I can’t exactly help it. Not unless —” He ducked his head, and looked away. She thought for a moment he wasn’t going to finish his thought and she was going to have to push him again, but he mumbled, “not unless you want to sleep next to me every night.”

She was certain that she had misheard him. “What?”

“I don’t… I don’t dream about Voldemort when I’m with you. Not that I don’t have dreams — and not that I don’t have bad dreams — but it’s different.”

Her face flushed and her stomach filled with Flitterby bushes. “Oh —”

“Ginny!” A pair of heavy hands planted itself on her shoulders. She jumped and spilled her champagne onto the table. “What’s a young thing like you doing sitting down at an event like this? You should be out on the dance floor!”

Ginny, though she was startled and a bit annoyed to have been interrupted, smiled up at her uncle. Uncle Gideon was her favourite uncle, after all. She could forgive him this intrusion.

“In these shoes?” she said. “My feet are pressed tighter than a goat caught in a dragon’s maw.”

Gideon laughed as he fell into the seat next to her. His large belly jostled the table, again knocking over the glass she had just righted, and his lankier brother, Fabian, leaned against it to steady it as he also took a seat.

“Why aren’t you two out on the dance floor?” she shot back and refilled her glass.

Fabian shrugged as he reached into his coat and pulled out a pipe. “No one’s interested in a man with only one hand for caressing.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Sorry that I asked.”

But she grinned as she said it. She’d always liked Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon’s sense of humour. She didn’t know how they’d been raised by the same parents as her over-worried and controlling mother, but they’d gained a special place in Ginny’s heart when they had gifted her her first broom for her fifth birthday.

Gideon used his wand to light Fabian’s pipe, then stuffed his own. “So, Potter, Molly tells us you plan to be off and running soon.”

“Er — yeah, something like that.”

“Molly asked us to talk Ron out of it,” Fabian murmured. He took a long, slow draw on his pipe. “Don’t think we stand much chance of that, and less chance of talking you out of it.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Harry said. “And Ron’s welcome to make his own decision.”

Ginny reached under the table for Harry’s hand. She did not know if Fabian or Gideon heard the sting in Harry’s voice, but after hearing his concerns about Cedric, it was obvious to her that even the question of Ron leaving hurt.

Gideon shook his head. “No need to draw wands about it. Secrets are part and parcel for the Order — and for Dumbledore.”

“But,” Fabian added in a low voice, “secrets have consequences. Are you prepared for that, Harry?”

“Of course I am,” Harry said quickly. “I’ve faced Voldemort before.”

Gideon lit his pipe. “Our advice is to know when to back down, when to cut and run — and when to ask for help.”

“It’s better,” Fabian added, “to fight another day than to never fight again, even if it means coming home missing a piece or two.”

“I have help,” Harry said. “Regulus knows what we have to do.”

This did not bring Ginny’s uncles any comfort.

Gideon frowned. “I remember bringing Black in. Escorted him and his friends in and out of Azkaban for their trial, too.”

“Didn’t trust anyone else,” Fabian added. “Though I always thought it would be the Lestranges who pulled something first.”

“You never suspected that Barty Crouch would escape?” Ginny asked.

“Not for a minute,” Gideon grunted. “Thought the kid would die in there, and wasn’t surprised when that was the news that came out a few weeks later. Apparently Black’s the one we should have watched out for. Though I can’t say I expected him to live very long, either. There wasn’t much left of him when we found him.”

“No,” Fabian agreed quietly, “not much of him at all. The trial nearly did him in, too.” He stared at the crowd of dancers thoughtfully. “I had always had the idea that he and Barty were dueling when we found them, though I could never decide over what. And Black never said anything to suggest that he hadn’t been at that house with Barty and the Lestranges.”

“Dumbledore said that Regulus betrayed Voldemort, and wanted to keep his betrayal a secret,” Harry said. “Maybe he was more afraid of Voldemort than of Azkaban.”

“But by then, Voldemort was long dead,” Gideon grunted. “If he wanted to be on our side, he had plenty of chances to offer it. Even when we met him after Voldemort’s return, Dumbledore only ever told us that Black was willing to offer information to the Order, but we weren’t to trust him any further than that. I saw the appeal of having an informant, but it always felt a bit like keeping a snake in the cradle.”

“I suppose the snake was Snape all along,” Fabian said. His gaze and voice were still distant, as if he had forgotten he was participating in the conversation.

Harry tensed beside Ginny and she squeezed his hand again. She had never liked Snape either, but his complete betrayal had shocked her, too. It must have been so much worse for Harry, who had believed that Snape loved Lily. It must have been so much worse for the Potters, to know that it was Snape who had shared the prophecy with Voldemort in the first place.

“It feels like we always should have known,” Gideon said. “But that’s what everyone said about Pettigrew, too.”

“What did people say about Peter?” Harry asked quickly.

Gideon shrugged. “That he was quiet, bumbling, and easily persuaded. That it was obvious he was the mole.”

“But,” Fabian’s attention returned to the table, “everyone said the same of Sirius that first week after the attack on the Potters. That he was a Black, that he had always hated Lily, that it was obvious he would betray the Potters. People changed their tune quickly after they learned that Pettigrew was responsible.”

Ginny frowned. “Are you saying it’s never obvious?”

“Nothing is in war,” Gideon said. “All we do is built on lies and secrets. It comes with the job.”

“No one knew that better than Dumbledore,” Fabian said. “I expect that’s why no one ever knew him very well.”

“Doge knew him alright,” Gideon said. “Better than the rest of us, anyway.”

“Even better than Aberforth, I’d wager.”

“Who’s Aberforth?” Ginny asked.

“Dumbledore’s brother,” Fabian said. “Younger, I think.”

Harry frowned. “I think I saw a photograph of him once. Isn’t he in the Order?”

Gideon shrugged. “He feeds us information from time to time.”

“Was he at Dumbledore’s funeral?” Ginny asked.

Fabian and Gideon frowned at each other, as if each expected the other to know.

“I don’t recall,” Fabian finally said.

Ginny considered her own absent brother. If Greyback had killed Bill back in June, and her family had gathered for a funeral instead of a wedding, would Percy have attended?

“I wonder what they fought over,” she murmured.

“Doge wrote in his obituary that they never quite recovered after their sister died,” Gideon said. “They had a rather public fight over her grave in Godric’s Hollow. I expect something as tragic as that could very easily tear a family apart.”

“Godric’s Hollow?” Harry asked. “She’s buried there?”

“It’s where Dumbledore spent most of his youth,” Fabian said. “At least, when he wasn’t at Hogwarts.”

Harry frowned. “I never knew…”

“Most of us didn’t,” said Fabian. “Like Gideon said — lies and secrets come with what we do.”

“But Dumbledore hasn’t always led the Order,” Harry said. “Even before —”

“Even before the Order there was Grindelwald,” Gideon said. “The Wizarding World has looked to Dumbledore as a leader and defender for forty years. A man like that doesn’t get to be a man, not even to his friends.”

“He’s simply a legend,” Fabian said. “A fate I pray none of us have to live with, especially you, Harry.”

Harry fingered the stem of his champagne glass with a brooding face. Ginny searched for something to say to pull him out of his head again.

“Harry,” she tried for a bright voice, “how about that dance?”

He blinked at her. “Er — are you sure —”

She was already on her feet and pulling him out of his chair. “Come on, I really like this song.”

Harry did not look convinced, but he followed her all the same, and they both made hasty goodbyes to her uncles.

“I was getting a bit tired of all of that anyway,” she said as she led him to the dance floor.

“I thought it was interesting.”

“Talking about dying?”

“Talking about Dumbledore. I don’t know, I think if I knew him better, maybe I’d understand what he wanted me to do next.”

As they reached the crowd of dancers, Ginny put Harry’s hands on her waist. “Doge is supposed to be here somewhere,” she said. “Do you want to ask him?”

His hands pressed against her dress of their own accord and he pulled her a little closer. “No, I do want to dance. Maybe after —”

But there would be no after. A silver streak of light passed through the party and came to a halt in the center of the dance floor. It took the form of a lynx, glittering like a star against the backdrop of golden lights strung up in the tent.

The music stopped abruptly, and through the silence, Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice boomed, “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

[bad-girl-coven]

A Bunch of Really Good She-Ra Pmvs/Animatics/Amvs you should watch! (None of these belong to me, btw so please go leave a like!)

Obedient Servant (She-Ra Short Animatic) I love the artsyle here, especially how Catra is drawn. The part of the song the artist uses fits Catra so well and I love how Glimmer was included, showing Catra’s jealously of Glimmer and Adora’s relationship. Catra Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtdftfM8xAE ||Karma by AJR|| She-ra animatics//by Dyames// This one combines footage from the show with awesome art and a banger song. It’s really good and fits Catra perfectly. Catra Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kukrX6u8Pkk Waiting in the wings - She-Ra and the Princesses of Power fan animatic This one made me cry lmao. The art and color scheme is so good and it also fits Catra so perfectly. Also there is baby Catra content and it’s both cute and heartbreaking. Catra Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUELcHiBpCM Bruno Is Orange - She-Ra Animatic I’m really soft for anything that’s mainly about baby Adora and Catra pre-rebllion, plus this song is one of my very favorites. This artsyle is also really cute and fluffy. This also made me sad because baby Catra and Adora always make me sad haha. Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUxrOAj27ik ❝lambada❞ Lonnie | spop A Lonnie edit that turned out really cool! There’s not enough love for Lonnie in the fandom, but this edit’s really nice :) Lonnie Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6qjhTp4jdY "Learning to fly" || SHE-RA (and the Princess of Power) || Catradora animatic The emotion in this art is breath-taking. I love how it shows Catra and Adora growing up and how they were there for each other in the Horde before Adora’s ‘betrayal’. Also Adora Undercut o.o Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3LCVGJ4JEw This is Home Catradora MAP This was obviously made by a bunch of very talented animators. I really loved this one, especially because I haven’t seen many She-Ra MAPS and the song choice was excellent, especially because Catra really did cut the gray fur tufts out of her hair. Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qO3BkcxKjXA She-Ra Animatic - Would You Be So Kind♡ This art is so fricking cute!! I love how it shows both Scorpia’s crush on Catra and Scorpia/Perfuma’s mural crush. It’s really adorable. Scorpia Centric (Scorptra and Scorfuma) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=38BMQJXxzAc Mermista|Animatic|Spop s5 spoiler free Asdfghjkl this one is comedy gold. The art slaps and the audio is perfect. Mermista, Glimmer and Seahawk Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTQgnXXQni8 Crush - Glimmadora Animatic This is really cute :O. I like the art and ofc this song is so good. Glimmadora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAegfjadE3o Dumb Catradora Animatic This is funny, and has good art. It’s short but I enjoyed it! Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuX60mug7rU What have I done? (A She-ra Animatic) An animatic about Adora’s struggles in being she-ra. The song matches the art beautifully and there is a lot of really nice moments. Adora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5c0tfUyZgH4 The Other Side - She-Ra Animatic I ADORE this one! The art is stunning! I love the style, it’s very free and has epic emotion. The song matches perfectly with the scenes the artist drew and I really love this portrayal of Catra’s reaction to Adora leaving the horde. (Also not to be a lesbian,,, but both of them in this,,,) Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1PMZYVSM91A A Lovely Night - She-ra Animatic This one is really cute. Catra and Glimmer on Horde Prime’s ship bonding. I love the playful dynamic this animatic displays between them, and the art is fabulous as well. Glimmer and Catra Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUPwgitEvWk S5 | "Wait for Me (II)" - Hadestown/She-ra Fan Animatic This song is so perfect for the show in general. The simple line-art against the gray background makes it so beautiful and powerful. Catradora Centric, but includes most of the other characters as well https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Om5VT06ERwY Ready As I'll Ever Be♥She-Ra ♥ The artist picked the perfect lines to have each character say, and combined with fantastic and emotive art, this is a great pmv. Catra Centric, but includes the whole rebellion.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tk8yr1tg1pQ GRRRLS | animation meme - Catra (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power) I loved the symbolism in this one! The breaking through the glass was super cool. The art is really nice and smooth as well. Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJKEGg571hg

Catradora | I Am Damaged | Animatic I am always here for chipped Catra content! Add Heathers and it’s a must watch. The art is superb and the song choice is perfect. It’s very sad, but I loved it. The ending gave me chills! Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INUTMxSja1Q S5 | "Hey, Little Songbird." - Hadestown/She-ra Fan Animatic Horde Prime creeped me tf out in this one! The shading on the art is really cool and I love how only Prime’s creepy pool has color.  Catra and Horde Prime Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LyomNJvrKdg someone gets hurt (reprise): a she-ra animatic The way this artist draws Catra gives me life, I adore it. Season 1 Catra and Adora fit this song so fricking perfectly. Catra and Adora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VI4QZD8Zzr8 Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) [She-Ra Animatic] This one is really cool! It’s a She-Ra Heathers AU and that’s epic ofc :)  Glimmer and Catra Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHkI8fAgIB4 Who broke it? She ra animatic Honestly one of the best pieces of audio on the internet, we’re blessed to have a She-Ra version. Plus the art is really nice. Catra using wooden coffee stir things to push back her cuticles fits perfectly for some reason. Horde Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0quzGldhDXw CHIPPED- ALL FOR US. SHE RA FAN ANIMATIC. Chipped Catra angst! The art is so good! The emotion, the lines, the shading! And the visualization of Catra’s thoughts while she was chipped is so cool. I’m obsessed with this. Catra Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jaGxgmG_wk4 She-Ra Animatic - Good For You 1. The art is really pretty and I love the background. 2. This song is so perfect??? It’s so ridiculously perfect for Catra and Adora I swear lmao. 3. I loved how the artist included Scorpia and how Catra wronged her as well, that was a super nice touch. Catradora Centric https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqtwpIB2hfQ

[herkawaiinovels]

[SS] Chapter 33

T/N: Now playing: Can You See My Heart - Heize

            Round tables were all over the place. Only tiny lights were placed in a few places.

People were focused at each table, and loud shouts could be heard everywhere.

Ralph was the only one who looked sober.

He blended in with his disheveled hair and worn clothes. His hair color and eyes were so common that he was not very noticeable. After observing the situation around him, he opened the door set aside inside for him.

The interior was an enclosed space, with only a small bed and a table. There, a man was in a position where his head was on the wall and his body on the bed with his legs sticking out. It looked like he was neither sitting nor lying down.

The man's slightly cloudy eyes had no focus. The area around the man’s mouth appeared white, but in fact, the foam from the lying man's mouth was a solid mark.

At first glance, he looked dead. But Ralph knew he was only drunk and had just briefly passed out.

“Tsk Tsk. It may be expensive drugs, but you shouldn’t have taken it recklessly.”

However, unlike the words he spoke, his face looked pleased.

“If you want to receive more drugs tomorrow, you can look at the memo.”

He tapped the man's cheeks, and inserted the paper he brought with him in the man’s pocket.

“Ugh…”

The man could not answer properly. But for the sake of getting those drugs, the man would likely bring up memories he didn’t know he had inside him.

Ralph clicked his tongue and left.

“To the outskirts.”

Even though there was no specific reference, the coachman, familiar with Ralph’s usual routine, started to run the carriage right away. Watching the landscape gradually changing through the window, he took out the drugs rolled on a small piece of paper from his pocket and put it in his mouth. The figure looked like a child eating candy.

“I wonder if they found one today.”

Anticipation was explicit on his face as they headed towards the destination.

        ***

        Sigh.

Within Prillance’s line of sight, she could see Ver practicing in the field. He had always made time to practice on his own.

Fortunately, the location was clearly visible from her room, so she was able to observe him at ease. This had now become her routine.

Today was only one of the days when she observed him like that.

Prillance leaned against the window and watched Ver practice. For several days she had tried to meet him, but he had been avoiding her. Hence, this was the only time she was able to get a glimpse of him. At least this way, she was free to observe him away from other people’s eyes.

“The new commander of the Marquis of Weiand’s Second Order of Knights – Ver Grant.”

Prillance muttered under her breath. In just a few days, Ver had taken up a position within the Order of the Knights.

It was only natural. Even within the Arceo empire, he had the best of skills. But she realized what had changed from the original. Ver Grant had become a knight of Marquis Weiand, not Duke Tonz. And Roman Tonz had became Prillance Weiand's partner for the imperial ball, not Cecia Royne.

Yet why was Ver still not able to find happiness with the person he loved?

When she first came here, she had tried to change the original course of the novel because she had wanted him to live happily with his beloved. She believed he would find happiness as long as things don’t go as the original. But now, she wasn’t sure.

Will he be happy?

Prillance wanted to know as he watched Ver wipe his sweat.

    Brushing off his sweat, Ver tried his best not to turn his head to the side. It was because of Prillance, who had been looking at himself from the window. It had not been one or two times that he had wanted to see how she was looking at him.

Nevertheless, she was unaware that he knew.

Ver lay down the sword to tidy up. Then, as he slowly turned his head towards Prillance, he saw her quickly hide in a fit of surprise. Her small hands lay by the window, as if to show a trace of her hasty concealment.

She was so cute. Ver burst into laughter – quietly, so she wouldn’t know.

He had been dodging her for days. Then, he had tried to get a position in the Order within the shortest time possible. Finally, tomorrow he would officially be appointed a formal position within the Marquis of Weiand’s Order of Knights.

As soon as he received his position, he wanted to run to her. He wanted to immediately let her know about his appointment and receive her approval. That him – whom she had needed when she gave her proposal to Duke Tonz – had become a knight of their house.

So every day, he worked hard to warm up his stiffened body. After a while, he had felt someone’s gaze. The moment he realized that the direction was toward Prillance's room, he was caught between his desire to look back at her and the desire to not let her run away. He stopped his sword practice and for a while just stood in agony.

As she kept observing him during each of his practices, his desire to look at Prillance reached to the point where he could no longer suppress it. So all he could do was to tease her like this.

The time when he tried to hold back, but no longer could, and finally turned around – wanting to see her – what he saw was her hand, smaller than his.

He recalled the time when he had wanted to meet Prillance but couldn’t; he had not known where he could meet her. Next time, he decided to go to her first, unconditionally. Prillance, who had come to meet himself, but whom he had cold-heartedly sent away.

Ver looked down at his hand. Then clenched his fist tightly.

Had he pushed her hand away? No, he had let it go.

She, who had come to meet himself. That Prillance.

So he had no choice but to approach her little by little, not wanting her to run away any further. Even if he could only see her hands. For now, that was enough for him.

Smiling, Ver turned his head. He shook his hair wet with sweat and began to walk away from the field.

Prillance carefully poked her head out the window. Thinking his practice was over, she saw him deep in thought.

After practicing, he always stood motionless for a long time. What was he thinking? What was he worried about? Did his practice not go well?

She became concerned as Ver stood unmoving.

With her chin leaning against her hands, she watched as his figure faded in the distance. She hoped that the breeze would blow his sweat and worries away.

        Music flowed. Their bodies moved along a song that was neither fast nor slow. A man and a woman, dancing while looking at the same direction, holding their hands together, letting go of one hand, and then turning around to meet again. After finishing his practice, this was the sight that Ver was watching.

The main character was Prillance.

Ver had a habit that Prillance didn't know about. She didn’t know that at the end of his morning practice, he would sit by a tree and watch her.

The tree’s verdant leaves concealed Ver, as he sat between its thick branches. In this way, he was able to watch Prillance's dance to his heart’s content.

When a pulsing beat came out, he could see Prillance smiling beautifully. He remained there until her class ended.

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[noona-clock]

I Never Knew - Part 3

Genre: WWII!AU

Pairing: Brian (Day6) x You (Female!Reader)

Warning: Mentions of war

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Epilogue | Words: 3,284

*gif courtesy of @cramelot​​

The sound of the front door opening downstairs made you pause.

Usually, your father arrived home quite late on his first day of work. He’d even said himself he wasn’t sure if he would be home for dinner, so when you’d accepted Brian’s invitation earlier today, you hadn’t been worried at all about your father even knowing you were gone.

“Cupcake!” you heard your father’s deep voice call out. “I’m home!”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you finished tapping some lavender powder on your chin. “Y--yes, father!” you replied. “Coming!”

As quickly as you could, you grabbed your trusty tube of red lipstick and dashed downstairs. 

Before you even set foot in the kitchen, your father asked, “What would you like for dinner?”

He lifted his head when you arrived in the doorway, and when he saw you were wearing one of your best dresses as well as an angelic smile on your lips, his brow knit in confusion.

“Why are you all dolled up?”

“I... uh...” you began, taking a few hesitant steps toward him. “I have plans tonight, actually.”

Your father’s furrowed eyebrows smoothed out, raising halfway up his forehead upon hearing your news. “Plans? What kind of plans?”

“Dinner plans,” you answered casually.

His tone was much more stern when he asked “...With whom?”

“His name is Brian.”

“A soldier?” The stern tone continued.

And your smile became even more angelic. “Yes.”

“You met him last night?”

“Yes, Daddy, of course. When else would I have met him?”

His brow furrowed again.

You stepped up to him, keeping the angelic smile on your lips before you stood on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s just dinner, and I’ll be back before curfew, I promise.”

A quiet sigh escaped your father’s lips, and he shot you a quizzical glance. “And what time is curfew?”

“Midnight,” you answered without hesitation.

“Midnight? Since wh --”

“Since I became an adult,” you interrupted. “And since you’ve forced me to move from base to base for most of my teenage and young adult life, and I haven’t had the chance to make any true, lasting friendships because we don’t stay in one place for long enough.”

Your father didn’t answer right away. He let out a deep exhale first, and then he murmured, “Yes, that’s fair enough. Midnight, it is.”

You kissed his cheek again, almost letting out a squeal when you said, “Thank you, Daddy!”

“Have fun, and please make good choices.”

You had been about to duck into the powder room downstairs to put on your lipstick, but your father’s request made you pause and quirk one eyebrow.

“Don’t I always make good choices?” you asked.

Your father chuckled heartily and shook his head. “Yes, you do. I’ve never had to worry about my Cupcake before.”

A soft sigh left your lips, and you were on the verge of telling him he really didn’t need to call you Cupcake anymore... but... in a way, you sort of liked it. It showed how much he cared about you, and the two of you really only had each other. 

So, instead of that request, you simply said, “And you don’t need to start tonight.”

“All right,” your father exhaled, lifting his broad shoulders into a shrug. “Go on, then.”

Upon his consent, you hurried into the powder room and leaned in close to the mirror. You opened your lipstick tube, twisting it up and applying it carefully onto your lips.

Once you were satisfied with the application, you put the cap back on the tube and went to fetch your clutch purse on the kitchen counter. You threw your lipstick inside before grabbing it and heading to the front door.

“Bye, Daddy!” you called out as you practically skipped down the hallway. “I love you!”

You heard him reply likewise when you reached the door, his voice booming from the kitchen, and you left the house with an easy mind.

Just after you pranced down the front steps of your house, you saw Brian turn the corner, his hands in his pockets as he whistled a sultry but also melancholy tune which you instantly recognized.

A grin tugged at your lips as you headed toward the mailbox, and when Brian noticed you, he stopped whistling to smile himself.

“Moonlight Serenade,” you said in place of a greeting as the two of you met up, almost in the exact same spot where you’d kissed last night. “It’s one of my absolute favorites.”

“That Glenn Miller sure knows how to tug at your heartstrings, huh?” Brian replied with a soft smirk.

“That he does,” you agreed. And then your brow furrowed gently as a thought appeared in your mind. “Do you know the song we danced to last night?”

To be honest, thinking about being in Brian’s arms, dancing so close to him, made your cheeks simmer.

“You mean -- the last song?” 

You nodded.

“I, uh...” He suddenly became a little bashful, but in the most adorable way you’d ever seen. “I actually asked Jae last night, the guy who sang it. He said it’s called ‘I Never Knew.’ It came out almost twenty years ago, but Count Basie covered it in 1940.”

The fact Brian had sought out this friend to find out more about the song the two of you had danced to last night made your heart absolutely flutter and sing with joy.

“It was a beautiful song,” you said quietly, your words escaping on a delicate breath.

A smile quickly came across Brian’s lips, and he glanced shyly down at his feet. “Yeah... it really was.”

He looked so incredibly cute and handsome right now that you had the strongest urge to kiss him. But, since this was officially a date, you knew you shouldn’t. Not until the date was over.

“So, where are we having dinner?” you asked as a way to distract yourself from breaking down and letting yourself kiss him.

“Right!” Brian’s voice sounded exactly how you felt -- like he was glad you had changed the subject because he had been thinking too much about kissing you. “Right, dinner. There really isn’t anything super romantic around here, but there’s a diner nearby that has really delicious meatloaf. I know -- but it’s real meat, I promise. Or they have tons of other stuff if you just don’t like meatloaf, like burgers or sandwiches or --”

“It sounds great,” you interrupted with an amused grin. To be honest, you would eat anywhere with him, even a hot dog stand on the busy streets of the city. “It’s nearby?”

Brian let out a quiet but relieved sigh before nodding in response to your question. “Walking distance, actually.”

“Good. I like to walk.”

As he had earlier today outside of the hospital, Brian ushered you down the sidewalk, presumably in the direction of the diner.

The base was on the outskirts of a small town, a town big enough to have a diner and a movie theatre but small enough to... not have much else. It was one of the smaller towns you’d lived near, but it was worlds better than the base which had been quite literally in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, your father had been transferred after just four months; you weren’t sure if you could’ve lasted much longer there.

“I feel kind of bad,” Brian said as the two of you walked toward the town’s main avenue. “I know the big picture, but I don’t know all the details about you. What’s your favorite color?”

“If I tell you mine, you have to tell me yours,” you retorted with a lopsided grin.

“Deal.”

“I like green, and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been around military uniforms my whole life or not.”

Brian chuckled at that, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “I like purple.”

You immediately made a mental note to wear your purple dress next time. And then you asked, “Favorite movie?”

“Hmm,” Brian hummed, his forehead wrinkling attractively in thought. “I guess I’ll say Citizen Kane.”

Which meant he had to be an intellectual on some level. No wonder he’d wanted something more challenging than an office clerk job.

“I love basically any movie with Cary Grant,” you told him with a guilty smile. “His Girl Friday, especially. And The Philadelphia Story. And Bringing Up Baby.”

“So... basically any movie with Cary Grant,” Brian smirked.

“Exactly.”

“I’m guessing you enjoy looking at the screen, not just watching it.”

You tilted your head slightly before you answered him. “Well, if you mean I enjoy looking at Cary Grant’s face as I watch him act, then... yes.”

Brian chuckled and shook his head, and you simply beamed angelically. What could you say? The man had a very nice face.

“I’ve also heard about this new actor, Gregory Peck. He’s only been in plays so far, but I saw his picture in the paper, and I sure hope he starts making movies soon.”

“Oh, really?” Brian asked slyly. “What does he look like?”

“Tall... dark... handsome...”

“So, he looks like Cary Grant?”

“Yes, but he’s American.”

“Is tall, dark, and handsome your type then?” Brian didn’t look over at you when he asked this, but you saw him raise his eyebrows slightly, and there was an expression of veiled apprehension on his face. Like he was waiting on tenterhooks to hear your answer but didn’t want you to know he was.

“I guess so...” you answered casually with a shrug. “I can give or take a few inches on the ‘tall’ part, but dark and handsome? How could I resist that?”

Brian wasn’t particularly tall -- taller than you, but most likely a bit shorter than either Cary Grant or Gregory Peck -- but he sure fit the bill when it came to ‘dark’ and ‘handsome.’

You obviously got your point across because Brian’s smile turned a bit shy, and a nice pink blush tinged his cheeks. He was pleased with your answer, and you were pleased that he was pleased.

“What about you? What’s your type?” you prodded, gently nudging his arm with your shoulder.

“Well,” he began, a hint of bashfulness still lingering in his voice. “I’m a sucker for red lipstick. It’s not a necessity, of course. I don’t expect her to always wear it, but... it’s certainly eye-catching.”

Instinctively, you pressed your ruby lacquered lips together.

“I also like a girl who will dance the night away with me, but also one who will spend a quiet evening at a diner with me. Someone who volunteers her time at hospitals, someone who doesn’t mind listening to me point out constellations, and... someone who will kiss me the very first night she meets me.”

Now it was your turn to blush. Of course. Who wouldn’t blush after hearing a man like Brian describe you exactly when asked about the type of girl he prefers?

“Wow,” you marveled, unable to bring yourself to look at him at the moment. “Do you really think a girl like that exists?”

“Oh, I know she’s out there... somewhere,” he answered. You could hear his impish tone as clear as day, and when you finally willed yourself to glance at him, the smirk on his lips was the most attractive one you’d ever seen.

After walking for a few more minutes and finally arriving on Main Street, Brian pointed out the diner just a few buildings ahead. And a good thing, too, because you were famished. All that walking and talking -- and flirting -- had worked up your appetite.

The hostess seated the two of you in a two-person booth in the corner of the diner, and you continued your discussion about your favorite things - books, foods, animals, things to do in your free time. You even asked him again what his favorite constellation was, but he gave you the same answer: he would tell you later.

During your meal (meatloaf for you since Brian had recommended it, and a club sandwich for Brian since he wanted to be able to switch with you if you ended up not liking the meatloaf), your conversation veered in a more random direction.  You talked about all the places you wanted to travel to, what job you would want if you could do literally anything in the world, your best and worst teachers in school... The two of you managed to fit in probably a month’s worth of talking into about an hour and a half, and as you watched Brian fish some dollar bills out of his wallet to pay for the tab, you realized... It felt like you’d known him for far longer than 24 hours.

More like 24 years.

When Brian opened the door of the diner for you and you stepped out into the cool night air, he said, “Am I walking you back home?”

You immediately shook your head. “My curfew’s not until midnight.”

“Well, well, well,” Brian chuckled, looking mightily impressed. “Your father must be very generous.”

“Once I made my argument for extending it by two hours, he had no choice but to agree.”

“Oh, I see. So, you’re just good at getting your way.”

“I guess you could say that,” you giggled.

Brian then looked down the street, nodding toward a large building with a lit-up marquee above the entrance. “Shall we see a movie, then?”

Your eyes widened with excited anticipation, and you grabbed hold of Brian’s arm, squeezing it gently. “Yes!” you grinned. “Yes, please!”

It had been a while since you’d seen a movie, and you couldn’t think of anything you’d like more than to sit in a dark room with Brian and watch a romantic movie.

Brian held out his elbow, a twinkle in his eye as he grinned expectantly down at you. When you slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow with delight, he led you to the theatre.

Your eyes widened yet again when you saw the newest Cary Grant movie was showing, Once Upon a Honeymoon with Ginger Rogers, and before you could even open your mouth to request a ticket, Brian let out a chuckle.

“Well, I guess I know what we’re seeing,” he smirked.

You were so pleased and grateful for his unprovoked offer to see a Cary Grant movie that you rose up on your toes and pressed your lips to his cheek.

When you pulled away, you laughed softly when you saw a perfect red lip print on his skin. As he walked up to the box office to purchase your tickets, you reached up to try and wipe it off, even retrieving your handkerchief from your handbag.

“Sorry,” you chuckled once he had two tickets in hand and the two of you had stepped away from the movie theatre employee.

“You should’ve seen my lips when I got back to the base last night,” he murmured teasingly.

“Oh, my -- did it really -- was it that bad?” you asked, your brow furrowing with guilt.

Brian stopped walking just before you reached the theatre entrance, turning to face you as a dazzling grin tugged at his lips. “It was well worth it, I promise,” he assured you. “And I wiped it off before anyone could see.”

While that did make you feel better, there was now a nagging thought in the back of your mind: you wanted to kiss him again tonight. Should you try to wipe your lipstick off by then?

“Come on,” Brian chuckled, interrupting your thoughts. “Cary Grant awaits.”

Well, if anything could take your mind off of kissing and lipstick, it was a Cary Grant movie.

“Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?!” you exclaimed as Brian held open the theatre door for you. You beamed at him as you walked through, taking his hand once he took his place beside you.

“I have to admit,” he began, linking your fingers together. “It was actually pretty good. I’ve never seen a Cary Grant movie before, but he’s not a bad actor.”

“No, he’s really not,” you chuckled. You nudged his side gently and tugged on his hand to bring him just a little bit closer to you. “Thank you for taking me.”

Brian’s lips curved into an ever so slightly shy smile, and he shot you a coy glance before he said, “You’re welcome. Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

The movie had put in you in such a good mood that you found yourself replying without really thinking. “No thanks necessary. If you can’t tell by now, I am pretty much already head over heels for you.”

Brian didn’t respond right away (which made you nervous, of course), but as soon as the two of you got past the theatre, he tugged you around the corner of the building.

“You are?” he asked earnestly, taking your other hand as he moved to stand directly in front of you.

Your heart began to race as you returned his gaze, your fingers grasping his. “...Yes?”

Just like your kiss last night, you had never told a guy you had feelings for him the day after meeting him -- after just one official date! But things with Brian were just turning out to be out of the ordinary all around, weren’t they?

Before you could let yourself get any more nervous, Brian’s expression quickly morphed into one of relief and happiness.

“Good,” he breathed. “Because I am, too. I feel the same way. It’s like I’ve known you for years even though we only met --”

“--Yesterday,” you finished.

He nodded and took a step closer to you.

Well, since you’d already told him something you hadn’t planned on telling him... you figured you might as well just go for it. “Can I tell you something?” you asked softly.

“Of course,” he whispered. “You can tell me anything.”

You let go of his hands, reaching up to rest your palms on his chest. Brian took another step closer, and your heart leaped when you felt his arms circle your waist.

“I’ve... never met anyone like you before,” you admitted. “The moment I saw you last night, I knew... I knew... Well, I’m not sure what I knew, but I knew something. I knew you were going to ask me to dance, and I knew I wasn’t going to dance with anyone else, and I knew I was going to kiss you. I don’t want to scare you off or anything, but... This feeling is just so strange but wonderful at the same time, and I almost don’t know what to do about it... I just... I know I want to be with you. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I want to go to diners and movie theatres with you. I... I want to kiss you. Hundreds, thousands of times. I --”

“I want that, too,” Brian grinned, his voice eager but gentle. “All of it. I want all of you.”

There was nothing left to do but lift yourself onto your toes and kiss him.

All of a sudden, as his lips cradled and tugged at yours, the last song you’d danced to at the party started playing in your mind.

I never knew what love could do until I met you.

You’d known when you’d heard that song that it would be important, and now you were coming to realize just how right you’d been.

You had no idea where this relationship would take you -- you had no idea how long it would last.

But you knew it would be absolutely wonderful.

Part 4

[i-am-vpelno]

JUSTICE LEAGUE SNYDER CUT SPOILERS!!!

So, due to the nature of this film my opinions are going to be all over the place and admittedly biased. I am a huge Justice League fan, I hate Zack Snyder, I hated the original Justice League by Snyder and Whedon and I’m not the biggest fan of Batman or Superman.

The Editing:

I’m kind of between the acknowledgment that this was Frankensteined together and wasn’t meant to be released and the fact that Snyder was given like 70 million to make this movie so what’s up? Let’s start with the negatives. This movie could’ve been waaay shorter by editing out SO MANY unnecessary scenes and slow mo. I can distinctly remember several scenes where I felt awkward just waiting for a character to hurry the fuck up and get where they’re going. This is especially prevalent with the Flash as almost every scene with him is in slow mo despite him being a speedster??? Then there are just “walking scenes” where it was just so so so uncomfortable and pointless watching the characters walk from point A to point B with nothing else interesting going on in the scene. There are strange scenes that don’t really add anything or lead anywhere like the Icelandic lady smelling Arthur’s shirt????? And Steppenwolf getting “permission” from Desaad to interrogate the scientists even though we knew he was going to do that already. A lot of these extra scenes interrupt the pacing as well which is a shame because I think the time would be less daunting if you cut them. I think the worst part though was the soundtrack. They only play Wonder Woman’s theme once in the beginning but then every time an Amazon is on screen they start playing this “lamenting tune” over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again!!! If it’s not the same exact clip from the same exact song I will genuinely be surprised. A lot of it just doesn’t fit the film, I definitely prefer Icky Thump to whatever Snyder had Arthur drinking to.

I didn’t mind Snyder’s color palette this time as I feel like the colors are punched up just a bit. I am so glad they chose to change the entire scenery for the final fight, it was so much more pleasing to look at. Albeit it was dark so...not much visibility lol but it’s understandable. I caught myself catching chills from the suspense and the emotional scenes in this. The emotional heart of this film is definitely there! I love the fight scenes!!! Other than some awkward moments with Batman and the Flash they were amazing!!!! Everyone looks great but I think the cgi shines the most here. I can actually see the parademons clearly now and I like their design. Steppenwolf had the biggest improvement, he was kinda blurry before but he looks great and I LOVE how they chose to show off the armor and his anatomy throughout the film. For this film specifically, I enjoyed the “Part One” things because it fit well in explaining part of Snyder’s vision AND was useful when I needed to take a break from the film. I kind of enjoyed the lack of a wide screen. Like Evangelion, I got the sense that there was more happening around the characters off screen and it greatly added to the mood. One of my favorite scenes is the Barry saves “Iris” (I don’t know if that’s actually Iris West.) This is one of the only times I thought Ezra Miller’s Flash was not only charming, funny and had a neat interpretation of his abilities but this is probably the best use of the weird music and slow mo in the film. I thought it was really cute.

The Story:

By far the biggest improvement upon the original, the added context is not only done well but probably the most interesting part of the film. Though not without its own issues, it adds much needed context, stakes and characterization that wasn’t available in the original. I could summarize that “everything makes sense now” but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. We learn so much about Darkseid, his followers and his purpose. The whole “science so advanced it’s like magic” thing was so interesting!!! Cyborg finally has a really well done and AMAZING origin story here!!! I love how Cyborg talking to Superman’s ship and the Mother boxes is used to explain the Injustice future and how dangerous the Mother Boxes really are. It’s really hard to put it into more words than I already have!

There are still a lot of issues but they’re not too big, just pacing and preference things. For instance we didn’t need the first scenes with Lois getting coffee but we did need the ones with her and Martha. However it’s not Martha, so what’s the point? We don’t know the Martian like that yet and we have no context showing that he knows Lois is “the key.” The Flash tends to over explain his abilities at awkward points but that’s an issue I’ll expand on later. The entire “Diana explains Darkseid to Bruce” scene is good but goes on far too long and we didn’t need to see them make the boxes even though it was cool. I hated the Injustice epilogue and the intro to the Martian. We didn’t need to see the entire “break into the lab” scene or the entire convo about bringing back Superman, some of that could’ve been cut. I don’t like how they handled Black Suit Superman. From my own knowledge and reading I know that the context for the black suit is that Superman was weakened and not killed so he wears the black suit to gain his power from the sun slowly, more or less. However it’s just a fashion choice here as Supes only lost his memory. Also, no matter how hard they try this movie is not funny. Besides the jokes we’ve already seen, very few hit and I can’t even remember them. I didn’t laugh once.

The Characters:

I wanna jump into it with how bad the Flash is here. Like I said, him saving “Iris” was pretty damn good but everything around that is awkward, bumbling and forced. My biggest issue is that I’m biased towards the CW’s Flash, who is my preferred live action Flash and I completely disagree with how they’ve treated the Flash’s origin and his father. The best part of the Flash is that he’s kind of like Spider-Man in that he’s super smart and strong but lives humbly and spends most of his time helping his community. And like Spider-Man he has great quips but is easily weakened by his arrogance. This Flash is barely above a hobo and only shows the faintest hints of competence. How did he even get his suit???? Did he steal the parts to make it??? The guy who plays his father is so close to being perfect actually, if they could stop him from sounding like a high frat boy. Seriously there’s “My dad is my best friend” and then there’s “I smoke up with my mom’s sperm donor Fred.” I didn’t even like him in the original however I ever so slightly prefer him to this.

Let me tell you I’m not one to get sincerely mad over a movie, it’s all calm critique over here. However, what they did to my man Martian Manhunter is mildly infuriating. Like I said, him being Martha completely ruins that scene and makes no sense in this film. Why doesn’t he help the justice league???? His formal introduction is so blah and lacks the punch that his character deserves. I was hoping he’d get his own movie or at least something similar to Cyborg in this film. So sad!

Cyborg is obviously the star of this film AS IT SHOULD BE. Again, I’m biased but from my reading and watching of the Mother Box story from the comics, ALWAYS had Cyborg heavily involved somehow because it’s connected to his origin. But goddamn does Ray Fisher absolutely shine and I’m glad Snyder saw that in him too. The depth they go into Cyborg’s origin was great and so entertaining to watch. Hands down consistently the best part of the movie. And he was funny!

I’m going to put Batman and Wonder Woman together because I ship them but also because my critique is fairly similar. I was absolutely shocked by both of them, Diana being faithfully more brutal and Batman being to a point off color by being so soft and hopeful. BUT I ADORED BOTH. There is a balance that many people misunderstand when writing these two characters. They both have the capacity for cold calculation but have big hearts and care a lot about saving people. I hope to see more of this characterization from them. Also, we love to see Alfred being the smart capable father we know he is. I do wish they kept the thing about Bruce confronting Diana about being hung up on Steve because it’s annoying and needs to be addressed.

Superman is boring again here, but it’s the way Snyder writes him so I’m not sure what else I can say. I just don’t like how inhuman Superman seems despite his upbringing. Aqua man was shockingly boring as well. I though he was giving a decent performance, being the laid back, giggly badass from the first film.

I think Steppenwolf was amazing, a few weird flops here and there but a compelling performance that really let us get to know him! Desaad was surprisingly intriguing, mostly due to the vocal performance. Eh Darkseid was definitely different. I was missing his almost regal authority, I always thought of him as an evil emperor and I was a little sad that he didn’t act more like it. Even the Harley Quinn show captured his well founded self righteousness.

The Dreams and Epilogue:

Here’s the thing, I already know this stuff was added for sequel bating but I’d like to address some questions and concerns that I still have. I still prefer Arrow’s Deathstroke to this one, but we’ll see. Jesse Eisenburg simply doesn’t fit as Lex Luthor, even that trick he pulled was poorly done. I wonder if Lex’s body guards are Amazon’s like in the comics. Jared Leto continues to try way too hard as the Joker but actually has some intriguing lines here. Kind of alludes even more that he’s a Robin turned crazy or something. Is this leading to Injustice or APOKOLIPS War?

Anyway, it was a good film! I recommend it!

[ghostboybabies]

Just a Little Bratty || [JATP Agere/CGLRE Oneshot]

Julie Molina wasn't a bratty little. At least, that's what she'd say if you asked. But if you asked anyone else, everyone would tell you the same thing: She was simply a toddler who didn't like rules. Or cleaning up messes. Or bedtime. Or veggies. Luke Patterson was the only person in the world that could get her to behave. Just a few words in a certain tone and she knew that she was pushing it. Every time Julie refused to follow a rule, or threw her little temper tantrums, he was always the one left in responsible of dealing with it. But, she was still his princess. And he loved her.

A/N:I'm currently experimenting with writing the JATP characters as littles and caregivers, so I hope you guys like my first Little!Julie Molina fic. It's also *the* first Little!Julie Molina fic in existence, but y'know...

anyways, I hope y'all like this! Julie cries but I PROMISE that everything turns out fine in the end. Lmk what you think in the comments!

{Ao3 Link}

--

Everyone else was gone. It was just Julie and Luke.

Just how she liked it.

When everyone else was there, Julie felt like it was crowded, and being openly little felt so much harder. But Luke always made her feel safe and small,without making her feel uncomfortable in any way. Luke was almost perfect.

Except for one thing.

Rules.

He said that they were there to keep her happy and healthy, but following them wasn't very enjoyable. And there was just so many of them! There was bedtime, and 'no sweets before dinner', and even a rule against making messes and leaving them!

Crazy, right? Who likes cleaning up messes? Definitely not Julie.

This specific instance of rule breaking started with Arts and Crafts in the studio. Supplies were neatly organized on the coffee table, set out by Luke for Julie's entertainment. 'What'cha working on, Jules?" Luke looked over her shoulder, trying to see whatever she was creating. She sat up, allowing his to see her page. On it, was a doodle of a flower, which she was working on coloring in. "It's so cute, princess! I'm sure it'll look perfect on the fridge once it's done."

Age regression is something that Julie started doing after her mother passed away, recommended by Dr. Turner himself. So of course, Ray and Carlos knew about it. And they were completely okay with anything that helped her heal in a healthy way. So things like hanging up her coloring pages or carrying around a stuffed animal were pretty normal in the Molina house.

Though, Ray had been pretty freaked out to learn that Julie's caregiver was a ghost boy that had been living in his house for months. But that's a story for another time.

"Really?" Julie asked curiously, adjusting herself so that she was looking back (and up) at Luke. Luke nodded, smiling at her softly. Julie took the comment as praise, letting the pride and happiness bubble up in her chest as she returned to working on the childish artwork. She hummed songs as she decorated the page, switching out her markers for another color every here and there.

After a while, Julie capped a dark pink marker and set it with the others, picking up the paper and handing it to Luke. "Lukeee," she whined, pushing at the table it front of her. She had been sitting on the ground, so that she was at level with the coffee table. Luke sighed, putting the paper down on the couch next to him and holding out his hands above her.

She reached up, letting Luke pull her up from behind, laughing a bit as she came to stand on her feet. "Can I go play outside now?" she asked, twirling around so that she was facing him.

"Of course. You just have to help me clean up this-" Luke stopped talking once he saw Julie trying to run off to leave the studio. "Hey! Come back here." he shouted, causing her to stop in her tracks and face him. "You know the rules. I set up the craft stuff, and you help me put it away when you're done. You can't just leave this all here." Luke crossed his arms, giving her a look that said 'don't push this'.

"Yes I can," Julie tilted her head. "And I will. Bye bye!" she turned around quickly, making it almost all the way out of the door before Luke's voice sounded again.

"Julie."

Julie liked to pretend that Luke being strict with her didn't faze her in the slightest, but really, that tone of disappointment coming from Luke felt terrible. She turned around quickly, rocking on her feet again. She had a light pout on her face. In a soft, small, and childish voice she said..

"But I don't wanna clean! I wanna play."

"I know, kitten. But if we play and just leave everything out, then everything would become a mess!" Luke explained, making a motion that instructed Julie to come back over to him. She hesitantly did so, stopping on the other side of the coffee table. "And, cleaning won't take to long! Will you be a good girl for me and do this?" he spoke softly, giving her a hopeful look. Julie thought for a moment, debating her choices. Right now, Luke seemed a little upset with her. If she did this, maybe he'd be proud!

He had said that she'd be a "good girl" if she listened to him. But she didn't wanna!

"No!" she crossed her arms, stomping her foot harshly on the ground with a huff. Luke's eyes went wide. Even thought she did stuff like this often, he was never prepared for it in the moment.

"Julie, calm down. Come sit," he instructed, trying to prevent anything more then a little temper tantrum from happening. Maybe it was all the conflicting emotions, maybe it was just stubbornness, but Julie did not calm down.

"No, no, no!" she shouted, using her arm to swipe some of the art supplies off of the table, as if the bratty act would prove that she wouldn't take his orders. She didn't even know why she had gotten worked up so quickly, but she did know that what she just did was gonna land her in trouble. She stepped back, hugging herself and glancing nervously between the mess she just made and her caregivers shocked face.

She was ready to cry before he even said a word, feeling a familiar drop in her chest as the childish anger faded from her demeanor. The 'drop' was a mix of guilt and anxiety, pooling in her stomach. "Why did you do that?" Luke spoke up after a moment of shock, giving her a strict look, speaking in a confused, but obviously not-happy tone.

"Don't know." Julie looked down, avoiding his eyes.

Luke realized that yelling wasn't going to get him anywhere with the little, her emotions had changed quickly and he could tell that she felt bad enough at the moment. Yelling and being to harsh would only scare her. He took a deep breath, patting the spot next to him on the couch. Julie obeyed immediately, sitting close to Luke.

She wanted to reach out for comfort, but she didn't know if she deserved it. She knew that she was in trouble. She hadn't been a good girl. Only good girls got cuddles and praise from their caregivers, right?

"Baby, you know you can't do things like that. I understand that you don't like cleaning but throwing a fit and making a mess doesn't solve anything." he adjusted himself so that his whole body faces her, and she did the same thing to him, nervously looking up at him with glossy eyes.

"I know...m' sorry." her words were reduced to mumble as her eyes casted downwards. She blinked hard, tears running down her face.

She hated crying! Her face got sticky and uncomfortable, and she had all these icky emotions. She just wanted to play, and be a little girl for as long as she could. Why did she have to be sad?

"Why're you crying, princess? I'm sorry that I shouted at you, I shouldn't of done that," Luke apologized, cupping the side of her face and forcing her to look up. Julie sniffled.

"Don't be mad at me, please. m' sorry!" she repeated herself, choking on her her words and pulling her face away from his hand.

"I'm not mad at you, kitten. I never was, okay?"

Julie didn't reply in any way, only blinking blankly up at him. Luke sighed, continuing to speak in his soft voice. "I'm just trying to get you to listen to me, alright? I promise, I'm not upset."

Julie looked at him, trying to determine if he was lying, or hiding something. She decided to believe him when he opened his arms. She might have been hesitant to believe that she deserved the affection, but right now, she needed the comfort. She began to babble apologizes into his chest, cuddling close to him as her tears dried up. "I love you, princess. You know that, right?"

Luke didn't speak again until Julie pulled away from the hug, wiping at her eyes. Her tears had left wet spots on his shirt, but Luke didn't say anything. Julie nodded a bit. That reassurance, along with the hug, made her feel a lot better. "Love you too." she replied, trying to rub the stickiness off of her face.

Luke went quiet, trying to work out an internal conflict. Usually, when stuff like this happened, after comfort came the punishment. A short timeout usually did the trick in teaching Julie a lesson about whatever she had done. But she usually didn't break down as badly as she just did there. Luke had to remind himself that she was only apologizing because she thought he was mad at her, she probably didn't understand what she had done wrong. And, if he just let her get away with that, she might just go back and do it again. He knew what he should do, but he really didn't want to.

"I feel better now," Julie admitted, looking at Luke in a way she did a lot. With her innocent eyes, blinking up at him.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"Felt bad. But now I feel better." She spoke as if her words explained everything, leaving Luke to remain confused. It didn't take him long to come to the conclusion that she must of felt guilty about the whole situation, and that he had helped her feel better. He smiled lightly, nodding a bit. Julie's facial expression dropped into a sad one once again. "Am I still in trouble?"

Luke hummed, hoping he wouldn't regret his next words. "Well, I can't just let you get away with this. How about you go sit on the loft steps for a few minutes, and when your punishment is over, you can help me clean all this up?" Luke motioned to the table, and the mess that still sat there. His statement wasn't really a question, but rather an instruction.

"B-but I don't want timeout!" Julie pouted, crossing her arms. Luke chuckled, rolling his eyes.

He was secretly glad to know that she was back to her usual bratty self. He preferred a bratty baby over a sad one, any day. "You know the rules, baby. Go sit." he instructed again.

She huffed, but she stood up and make her way over to the ladder. Instead of sitting on of of the steps facing away from Luke, like intended, she climbed up a bit and poked her legs through the other way carefully. She rested her head on her arms on the step closest to her head level, swinging her legs a bit (as she was off of the ground) and looking around. Luke didn't bother with telling her to face the other way, even though that was usually a requirement of a timeout.

Luke watched as Julie pulled many pouty faces. Not the guilty kind, the kind that were meant to convince him to end the punishment early. Maybe it worked, but that wasn't the point.

Luke could only handle the pouting for a few minutes, before giving in and telling her that her time was up. She got out of her position on the ladder as fast as she could without hurting herself, jumping up and running over to the side of the coffee table. "Can I go play now?" she asked, bouncing on her feet.

"No yet, darling. We still have a mess to clean up." Luke reminded, getting off of the couch and pulling a few colored totes from under the coffee table. Julie huffed, seemingly annoyed, but she complied. Luke had given up a while ago on getting her attitude in check. She was going to complain and pout and whine about everything, he only really cared if she actually ended up doing the thing.

While they picked everything up, Luke noticed that Julie was a little tense. She was also over exaggerating the 'I'm mad at you because you put me in timeout' thing, acting a lot more upset about it then she'd usually be. Almost like...

Almost like she was trying to mask another emotion. Like guilt.

It was possible that Julie still felt like Luke was mad at her after he punished her. Luke didn't know if he was correct in this conclusion, deciding to look into it farther before doing anything. He didn't really have to, though, because the evidence presented it itself.

When they were done, and Julie helped put the totes away, she looked at him hopefully. Like she was waiting for something that would help reassure her that she was okay. Luke realized what she was probably waiting for.

"Good job, princess. I'm proud of you." he smiled lightly, deciding to offer another hug. He opened his arms, and she filled them quickly. She seemed a lot less nervous, and tense. Like his simple words of praise had managed to wipe away any worry in her mind.

"Really?" She asked, just to be sure. Just to hear it again.

"Mhm. You did such a good job helping me, baby!" he swayed in place, squeezing her tight. She giggled, before speaking in a confused voice.

"But...I didn't listen?"

"I know, but you did eventually, right? You learned your lesson and everything is okay now. I promise," He spoke softly, kissing her head. Julie hummed, snuggling into his embrace.

Everything really did feel better when she was wrapped up in Luke's arms. Everything was okay again when the caring ghost held her close. Luke cared about her, and being reminded of that always made her day better.

Luke loved his princess, even if she was a little bit bratty.

--

A/N: Please leave feedback in the reblogs/replies/my askbox, whether that be something you liked, something that could be improved, or maybe even a request (I can't guarantee that I'll write it, but I'd still love to hear ideas!)! And please, if you write for JATP, maybe try/consider writing agere content! People seem to really like it but there's not much of it yet, and I really wanna see what people come up with!

Reblogs especially would be VERY appreciated, so that more people can discover this!

[finleyjayne]

Break A Leg

 {Chapter 1: Auditions}

Summary: After your accident, everything in your life changed. Your shared dream of being on Broadway with your best friend, Amanda, was over. But just because YOU don’t think you want the same things in life doesn’t mean that your friend won’t see through you. Taking matters into her own hands, you end up at an audition you’re sure that you’ll fail since SHIELD Theater Company is known the world over for typecasting. And you don’t fit any of your typical actress types. Little do you know that the company’s new writer - nihilistic, pessimistic, and resident drunk; Bucky Barnes- is looking for someone out of their normal choices.

Characters: Female Reader, OFC Best Friend, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, and all your other favorite Marvel Characters, hopefully in the long run it will end with a Bucky Barnes/Reader ship.

Series Warnings: Guys, this is based on my own experiences within the Acting community after gaining weight and height after an accident. There will be fat-shaming, mentions of eating disorders, unhealthy expectations, unhealthy coping mechanisms, also like bias based on looks.

A/N:this originally was inspired by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ s follower celebration challenge. I was given the opportunity to use the text prompt “No fucks given, Next please.” Thank you Star! Thank you Thank you. Also a big thanks to the lovely @cavillanche​ for giving me a gentle nudge to write for myself and for being an amazing sounding board.

"Come oooooon, Y/N. I don't care if you don't want to go out. I haven't seen you in what feels like literal months. That's saying something since you know we LIVE together. I won't take no as an answer." Your best friend, Amanda, said as she flopped on top of you. 

Amanda burst into your bedroom this morning at way-to-fucking-early o'clock in the morning, on a warpath to get you to come out with her. It didn't matter to her that you were finally getting some sleep after working all-nighters for the last week. There was no way to ignore her either, her sunny personality and eager persistence would cause you to roll over in your grave if she wanted you to.

With a groan, you smothered your complaints behind a gasping wheeze. "Kay, Manda, where are we going?"

 She rolled off of you with a high-pitched squeal and used the momentum to pull you out of bed. "Yay! I have so much planned. I was talking to my manager about how well we used to work as a pair on stage. I may have mentioned how much I would kill to be the Penny to your Tracy. Or the Meg to your Christine. The Judy to your Betty. The Glinda to your Elphaba." Her words started to fade into background noise as she milled on about the parts you had once wanted to play together.

  The dream used to be that you both would move here, to New York, and play in all of the big theaters on Broadway together. Sadly, your broadway dreams were not as much of a reality as Amanda's were. And you were okay with that. You were thrilled for Amanda. Living vicariously through your best friend, helping her prepare for her shows while working as a Math tutor and Accountant for a local firm. 

   It didn't help that you weren't necessarily what people consider the typical standard of beauty. Standing just under six feet tall, a little plushy about the middle, and some nasty scar tissue leaving one of your legs in a constant state of ghostly paleness. Not that people notice since you tend to find yourself just as pale as the damaged tissue. After so many failed auditions, you figured your best life was lived outside of the theater. You were happy, and honestly, you are kinda glad that you are where you are.  

 "....So hurry up, I'll pick your outfit, we have an appointment with Rijah in half an hour." Amanda finished pushing you into the little cubical shower. When did she turn it on? Where are we going? Needless to say, you did what she asked and stuffed down your confusion, focusing on waking up more before you accompanied her to yet another one of her 'private' lessons with your pianist friend.

Thirty minutes later, you were dressed, primped, polished, and not all that much more awake. Amanda stuffed a binder of music into your hand as Elijah spread his copy over the lip of his pristinely kept upright. "You know this song, I think it will be perfect. A little overplayed, but with a fresh interpretation, they'll overlook it. All you have to do is sing. They are bound to cast you. I've worked with them before, and Director Rogers values skill over appearances. So we'll show them your ability, and he'll love you."

Looking at your rambling best friend, Your confusion amplifies. Your jaw cracks as you don't even try to stifle another yawn. You rub your eyes, not questioning her pushiness. "Uuuuhhhhh, okay?" You scan through the score, making note of the cut before looking to the triangular-shaped man sitting on the piano bench. Since you had already been taken through the typical vocal warm-ups by Amanda while she played dress up this morning. You smile at your expectant friend/accompanist. "Will you give me a playthrough with the melody line in it as a refresher, please, Rijah, Repeat, and I'll join you?" 

"Of course," He said sweetly with a nod, turning to the keys and playing. Quietly you hummed along, mentally noting which registers each phrase should be sung in. Where the notes would be stretched, what you would use to your advantage. The accompaniment was simple, repeated strummed chords like most modern musical use. It gives freedom rhythmically when it comes to melodies. You could have fun with the piece. Smiling to yourself, you open your mouth and join the simplified accompaniment on the repeat. 

When the second run-through finishes with a very extravagant arpeggiation. There is a moment of complete stillness as the resonance leaves the space. You are high on the feelings of intense emotion and absolute peace, yet somehow buzzing with unlocked energy. You miss this feeling, of connection with everything and nothing, The feeling of knowing that you did something right, it's heady, and it drives you to ask yourself why you ever stopped performing for a brief second. Amanda was always saying that she would drag you to an audition one of these days if you didn't get over yourself.

 You are knocked out of your musical high by Amanda's enthusiastic clapping. Elijah looks at you with a smirk, opens his mouth, and is swiftly cut off by your friend. "God, Y/N. They won't be able to stop themselves as soon as you open your mouth!" You smile at her very biased opinions. Before she can get any crazy ideas like dragging me along to more than just her sessions with Elijah, you place the binder the music into her hands, "Why don't we go over Take me or leave me? After all, this is your rehearsal time, I'm just here to help you."

Amanda gives you a devious smirk as she nods. "Sure. You heard the woman, 'Rijah." She sends him a sly wink that you are too tired to really read much into. He just nods with a conspiratory smile and spreads the music for the RENT song over the previous. 

"Whenever you are ready, ladies," He says when he's ready. Sighing internally, you place yourself back into your 'supportive friend' role, playing out the simplified blocking of Amanda's latest show. 

Before you even fully realize it, your hour with 'Rijah was over, and Amanda was pulling you into a nearby taxi to your next destination. "If you don't let me at least have a coffee, I will not be held accountable for my actions, Woman." You warn your best friend as you eye her. You were starting to worry that you would need to be more awake for whatever plans she had for the rest of the day, You were now to the point where you could see her scheming something, but were still too out of it to figure out what it was. 

She looked at you, trying to hide behind her mask of sickeningly-sweet innocence. I knew this look and all that it implied, and it worked to shake me into a slight panic of what she was walking me into. "I don't know what you mean, Y/N. I told you where we were going this morning, I promise this is the last stop before we can go home and you can sleep the rest of the night away. But if things go as I hope, we may have a repeat of this occasion sooner rather than later." The taxi pulls up at a building with a line heading out the door and around the corner. 

That's when it hits you; That promise that Amanda had made to you all those months ago about dragging you to an audition wasn't just one of those 'get moving your ass, or I'll move it for you' speeches to get you out of bed, she was going to do it. No, she wasn't going to do anything. Amanda had already done it. She had gotten you into an audition. 

You were suddenly wide awake. The knowledge that you were at an NYC Broadway audition, with your best friend hitting you like Celie's babies being alive in The Color Purple. It is unexpected but brought with it such excitement and fear all at once. You grasped onto Amanda's arm. "Amanda Jenivive Brendon, if this is some kind of joke, I don't know if I can forgive you. Please say this is not some kind of joke." The words are a desperate snarl. The hope pressing against your chest mixed with the fear that you jumped to incorrect conclusions was absolutely unbearable.

Amanda lets out a loving laugh before playfully scowling at you. "You really haven't been listening to a single thing I've said to you all day, have you?" The accusation was slightly bitter, but you knew she was laughing on the inside.

You squeeze her arm as your panic escalates. What am I going to do? How am I going to do this? What if they don't accept me just because of how I look? Shit, what am I going to do about a resume? Your vision blurs as you watch your best friend take your hand, leading you into the building past the line of girls and down a hallway to a dance studio styled room. 

She leads you to a table set before the long wall of mirrors where a cute little redhead sits. Taking out a binder and handing her two sets of papers, "Hey Wanda, It's good to see you. Is it standard issue today?" 

With a bright smile, Wanda accepts the papers. "Sure is Amanda, Do you need a copy of the company notes, or do you still know them by heart?" 

 Amanda chuckles before shaking her head, "I don't need a set, but you probably should give one to Y/N here, She could use the distraction of going through all the legal jargon while we wait."

Wanda's eyes grew wide as she turned to face you. "Y/N? As in 'shower singer Y/N'? Oh my Atlanta, Buck is going to lose his shit!" She jumps up and claps her hands. "I gotta go tell them!"  

Amanda's hand snaps out to stop the woman from leaving. "Hey, none of that. I want to see their surprise when they hear her, especially after Tony's last casting rant."  

Wanda immediately calms, her face splitting into a devious smirk. "OOOOooo, you are evil. I love it. Want me to film it for you?"

 "It's like you read my mind," Amanda says, turning to see your expression of confusion. "Y/N, hey, Y/N/N? You in there?" She snaps her fingers lightly in your face. "Come on, girl. Wanda here is the Stage Manager for the SHIELD Theater Company."  

"Wait, what?" Your voice cracks as your heart hammers even harder into your ribs. SHIELD Theater Company was one of the prominent troupes in New York. They were world-famous, they were the equivalent to The Royal Shakespeare Company in America. Were you at an audition for them? I thought you had to be part of a Union to even be considered for an audition with them!  

"Really, Y/N? Still not paying attention? Come on, let's take a seat, stretch a bit. before they put us through our paces." Her eyes are bright with amusement as she sticks your number on the left side of your dress.

"I'm sorry? In my defense, I have had a total of 8 hours of sleep in the last week. So not the point, though!" You follow her to a set of chairs in the room. At her reproachful glare, when your voice breaches into a louder panicked screech, you take a few breaths before continuing in a harried whisper. " I mean, how am I even here? I am not Unionized, I haven't paid my dues for months! I don't have-" Your internal concerns continue to pour out of your mouth as Amanda slams her palm over your mouth. 

 "Hey, take a deep breath for me, Y/N. I need you to stay conscious... maybe I should have gotten you a coffee before we came, but you always complain that it makes your vocals all gummy." You rip her hand off of your mouth, eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Hey, you're the one who woke me from my first decent sleep this week, you can't really blame me for being a little lack-of-sleep drunk. And Coffee does make me phlegmy, but, again, that is not the point. The point is now that I know what you've set up, how can it be possible?" You whisper scream at the aggravatingly calm Amanda.

 She rolled her eyes, "Well, I told you I was going to make our dreams come true, and I have had enough of your lame excuses about how you don't want to get back on the horse. But I saw you today. You WANT to be here. I've seen your secret tears when you go over our old cast photos. I hear you belting in the shower, so I've taken it upon myself to continue paying your dues to the AEA, and cashed in a favor with my agent to sign both of us up for this particular call."

 Before you could make a rebuttal, seven people walked into the room that had slowly filled with fifty or so women while you were distracted. A short brunette plants himself in the center of the mirrored wall as the others take seats next to Wanda behind the white foldable table.

 "Welcome, ladies, It is inspiring to see all of your beautiful faces. Before we start, I wanted to say a few words. First, thank you for taking the time to come and audition with us today.

"As you know, we only hold one set of auditions for the full season and look at that, all of you have made the initial cut for this season. Now it's time for the fine-tuning. Just know that even if you don't make it into our troupe this year, it's nothing personal. We have a specific set of personalities and abilities that we are looking for. If you don't make it this year with us, don't be afraid to come back next season. 

"Now, to kick off this lovely party, let's have you line up, no particular order." The man smirks, and you gasp as you realize who the cocky man is: Tony Stark. You were being lined up for your first NYC cattle call by the eccentric, theatrical genius Tony Stark. You didn't know whether to be honored or terrified. He had a notorious reputation as a type-caster, and the only type he favored was the short, petite woman. FUCK. 

Amanda dragged you into the line as she plastered a knowing smile on her face, "Just remember, sing. if you open your mouth, let that beautiful song sing from your heart." 

"Sure, whatever you say," you reply to her whispered reassurances, holding your head up high as the legendary man started down the line."No, No, Yes, Yes, Yes, Sorry, Sure, Yes. Not this time, sweets. No, Sorry, Yes, Yes, Yes... " And so on until he reached Amanda. "Miss Brandon, nice to see you again. I look forward to hearing your choices today." 

"Same to you, Mr. Stark, and I look forward to showing you my progress from last year."

"Good, good" His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her for another few seconds before skipping over you entirely, "yes, yes, yes, No…"

Well, it looks like you made it through the first cut, Amanda drags you back to where you left your purse and Amanda's backpack. She shares a conspiratory glance with Wanda, who just rolls her eyes. "Take a deep breath, then they'll start pulling us up in small groups to rotate through our song choices."

 "Amanda, I'm pretty sure you voodooed Stark into overlooking me." Amanda just laughs.

"Sure, whatever you wanna tell yourself. I think it was just you being here, it's fate." Now it's your turn to roll your eyes at your friend's everlasting optimism.

Once Stark finishes going down the line, he takes his place back front and center. "Okay, ladies, now it's time for the fun bit. I'm sure you were all smart cookies and gave Wanda your music cuts along with your resumes, so now it's time to put those voices to work. We'll call you up in trios. Wanda will read out your name and call number, Thor will wait for you to count out a tempo before playing for you. Wanda?" Stark calls out the woman before taking his seat behind the table. 

Wanda smiles brightly, calling out the first three people as the Hulking blond man stands from the table and makes his way to the piano. Wow, I hope I don't mess this up. It's not just my ass on the line anymore. You are brought back out of your thoughts by a gentle tug on your arm. 

"Stop overthinking things, you'll do fine, Your resume is prime, your song choice is brilliant, and like they couldn't choose someone more theatre conscious if they had hired Idina Menzel." 

You shudder at the actress's name, "I would hope so, she's terrible."

"Yet she had been a mainstay in theater for years." 

"So what, just goes to show people don't necessarily want talent. They want beautiful mutants who can screech out songs without killing their vocal cords."

"Y/N, Shut the fuck up. You can do the same things, you may not sing in a scream like she can, but you know how to sing, you can dance- don't give me that look I caught you practicing your fouettes last week- and more importantly, you can connect. You connect in everything, you have so much to offer, and I know that once these people hear you, they will hire you. I know it."

You sigh, you weren't sure that everything she was saying was true, but you knew that she believed the words with all of her heart and didn't want to be the reason her hope died. So you just sighed in resignation before turning to the group that was in the midst of their auditions. They were outstanding, and the longer you went on, the more self-conscious of your own lack of preparation. Subconsciously you reached out to grab Amanda's hand and ended up clutching onto her dress front.  

"Amanda, Amanda, I don't deserve to be here." Your hushed whisper, dragging harsh against your throat. Your chest tightening, your panic acting as a hangman's noose. "Amanda, I don't know what I'm singing. Amanda, what is it from? What is the song's name? How will I slate if I don't even know the name of the song? Wait, what is MY name? " Your breath started to tear through your lungs, your sinuses stung with oncoming tears. 

"Y/N, take a breath, let go before you give everyone an unexpected flash." Amanda's whispered reply was almost biting in its directness. Even if you consciously didn't hear the words, her tone cut the noose from your neck. Your lungs immediately expanded with much-needed air, your fingers loosening their grip to let her replace the fabric with her own firm grip. "Good girl, now, Y/N, what is your name?"

"Uhhhhhh…" Even if you were calming down, your brain was still coming back to grips.

"The next three are as follows: Y/N Y/L/N, Amanda Brendon, and Savannah Moffat." Wanda's lyric call cut through the silence that had filled the studio while you were trying to remember your name. 

You stood automatically, all your years of auditioning kicked you into performance autopilot. Your shoulders take their place slightly back, head high, chest on display, the skirt of your dress flowing around your thighs as if they were the mist rolling over the valley at dawn. Your face hid the horror that was filling your mind, it didn't matter that you didn't remember the name of your song, you were Y/N Y/L/N. You could fake it till you make it to perfection. Amanda was right, all you have to do is sing, and they will see you. It doesn't matter if you don't look like you used to, you are still capable, and even if you don't make it, you can't say that you didn't try. Just remember what Doctor Ellis said, 'every audition is a performance, even if they don't choose you, you were able to perform.' You can do this. After all, you sang it this morning, you could see the sheet music just behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. Just keep breathing.

Amanda gave your hand a final squeeze as she recognized the look of horrified determination in your eyes. Smiling to herself as she saw the bored looks on the panelists' faces. She met eyes with Wanda, who gave her a smirk nudging the blond man sandwiched between her and Tony. Turning his attention to your regal appearance before Tony also decided to look up from whatever was so important on his phone. 

You opened your mouth to introduce yourself, and Tony's voice filled the space clearly, saying the words that had shattered your own will to find your auditions.

"I'm sorry I must have missed you before. There is no need for you to sing today, collect your things."

Your face fell into an imitation of a polite smile as your brain processed the rejection. Guess Amanda really did save me from being culled. Before you can say or do anything, though, the blond man sitting next to Tony spoke.

"Tony, you had your chance. Now it's my turn to decide whether or not she is cast. Now sit down." 

"No, it isn't too late, Steve. I bankroll this group I get to have a say. And I won't have someone who looks like her representing my Acting Company."

"You already had your say. Now sit down and let the girl sing."

"No," Stark turns from the blond man and back to you. "No fucks given, Next, please."

 CHAPTER TWO

[hoshalicious]

seventeen’s reaction to you being discouraged by antis.

@cutekitty145​ asked: How would Seventeen react their idol friend or s/o getting disrespected for either being chubby, having a darker skin tone, being half Korean, fully foreign all together or having their own (fashionista) stype choices. Like who would be the most angry or upset? Who would stand up for them or at least defend them? (Cause SVT is well known for standing up for those who are less fortunate and that can't stand up for themselves). Hope this makes sense!! Sorry if it doesn't!! 💕 Love your blog!!! 💕

seungcheol. dispatch was the reason why the relationship between you and seungcheol became public. he didn’t want this to happen, he was angry at himself for not being careful enough. but it was also the time to see which fan supported him and which didn’t. when he sees an anti making remarks about you and your skin color, and he started to feel angry. 

sometimes he asks joshua to translate some english tweets about you, and he was not having it. he decided to make a statement regarding his relationship with you as he expresses his anger about the racist remarks about you.

“a person is a person, regardless what color of their skin is. if you can’t accept the fact that we are all human, then don’t even bother posting about my own relationship. there are multiple reasons why i love y/n, but seeing the people who support me talk shit about them, that is very unacceptable. i’m very disappointed.”

jeonghan jeonghan is known for his smart remarks, and he won’t hesitate to use it towards anyone who talks bad about you. he knew the consequences for dating someone since he’s an idol, but he will not hold back. you and jeonghan were walking in the streets of seoul now that the relationship was revealed in public. there are some cases where some people don’t even recognize jeonghan, so korean men were looking at you and discriminating your skin color not knowing him as an idol.

“they look dirty. what the hell are people like them doing around korea?”

“their dark skin’s ugly.”

jeonghan can hear your sniffling, and asked you what’s wrong in korean. you told them that you can hear comments about you and he emphasized with his whole chest loud and clear, 

“don’t worry, y/n, you’re very, very beautiful !! those men are irrelevant, they don’t see what i see. i’ll buy you some ice cream to make you feel better!” 

joshua as an american who was born and raised in los angeles, he doesn’t hesitate to stand up for you when discrimination is being used around you. he is almost always aware that, especially when he usually hangs out with vernon. you and joshua decided to go to the grocery store to buy some snacks to binge on for a movie night, but you see two women at the same aisle. then they see the cart full of snacks, they began to pick on your weight, as well as your skin tone. you’re a foreigner and you felt so used to the rude comments, but the two women made you feel bad about yourself. 

“i don’t know about you, but i’d rather have a partner who love theirselves and that’s all that matters. as an american, that’s being rude to me too. disgusting.” joshua blurted out before he held your hand and dragged you out of the aisle.

junhui jun seems like he is always careful about how you feel about yourself. he didn’t care what people think of him, and he tries to make you feel better when it comes to your insecurities. when his relationship with you went viral, there were some negative comments in chinese about how your skin is darker then his and how you have a curvy body due to your thighs. you don’t understand chinese, so you speak to him in korean.

he didn’t want to translate the comments to you. he knew you’d be miserable.

“this is the person who motivates me everyday, laughs at my dumb jokes, who is willing to learn my native language, and tries to love theirselves. if you can’t love them as much as i do, then i’m sorry. there is nothing i’m going to do about it.”

soonyoung. he absolutely loves to see your bright smile and wants to make you happy 24/7. one of the things he fears was seeing you come back home crying because of racist marks being pointed at you. he was finally off one day, and decided to grab some ice cream with you before deciding to eat in. soonyoung was practically starving and you were craving some sweet at the moment. so you’re standing in front of soonyoung waiting in line for some ice cream when suddenly, soonyoung hears two guys behind him talking about your weight and how you don’t fit into korea’s beauty standards. 

he turned around, and scolded, “i fucking dare you to say that shit one more time. what a disgrace. y/n, we’re leaving.” as he grabs your hand, and proceeds to get out of line as he tells you he’ll buy you ice cream elsewhere. 

wonwoo. you and wonwoo are on a train on your way back home from shopping. you’re a halfer, but you look more like a foreigner than you are korean. you both sit down  in a chair beside each other, and waited until you arrive at your stop. you were looking around while wonwoo snoops on his phone checking his messages on the members. there were three guys on the other side of the train talking about how they hated your dark skin and how you would look a whole lot better with a lighter tone. wonwoo looked up from his phone and stared at the guys, literally fuming from their rude remarks.

“do you hear this shit, y/n?” he said. when the guys heard wonwoo talking to you in korean, they were shocked and became completely silent.

“yeah..i don’t like it..fuck korean beauty standards.” you say before you almost broke down as soon as your train stop arrived. wonwoo held your hand and placed many kisses, instantly making you feel better.

jihoon. he also is one of the members that won’t hesitate to defend for you. you’re one of jihoon’s best friends and you also compose seventeen’s songs with him and bumzu. when people found out what you look like as one of pledis’ composers, people were talking bad about how you’re foreign and how they hated your dark skin. someone even whitewashed you in photos and jihoon was clearly upset seeing photos of you in negative ways. he has threatened the people posting them and the posts were deleted not too long after.

he didn’t want you to see the posts and feel so upset about yourself. you have gone through so much racism when you moved to korea, and he didn’t want you to feel worse than you did before. 

seokmin. when it came to any sensitive topics, he either tries to keep you away from them, or confronts anyone about it whenever he has the confidence to do so. he has a huge crush on you, so he tries to make you as content as possible. you and seokmin decided to go out and walk at the park to get some fresh air and as you’re walking and eating your ice cream, seokmin can hear a couple of guys from the bench how a handsome guy like him likes to hang out with someone as ugly as you.

he was mentally fuming with rage as he looks at you. it seemed that you didn’t hear the guys, so he looked at the guys with an intimidating glare and they stopped and hesitated. they bowed to him to apologize as you and him keep walking.

he was glad that you didn’t hear what they said about you, but he couldn’t stand being in the park anymore. 

mingyu. you’re on the train alone as you’re on your way to visit mingyu. when you were minding your own business, you hear a couple of older ladies how you should go back to your country and how you don’t belong here in korea. you slowly feel tears coming, so you try to hide your face as you decided to call mingyu. you were happy that you’re about to arrive, and unfortunately, some people see your gloomy state and everyone suddenly got quiet. 

“hello--y/n what’s wrong??” mingyu said.

“it’s nothing. there’s people talking about me again and i hate this racism so much.”

“huh?? i swear i hate when people talk shit about you, who do i have to speak to, who the hell is talking bad about you, do you need me--” you don’t have him on speaker but mingyu’s voice was so loud that the older ladies were quiet and strangers were looking at them.

you got out of the train and you hear someone say how scary mingyu was on the phone.

minghao. you and minghao went hiking out in the mountains and you both chill at the top with other people checking out the view. you both took a selfie together before he wanted to check out another part of the mountain for the view. you look back at the selfie and you hear a couple of women making fun of your skin. you felt extremely insecure and you were deep into your thoughts that you didn’t notice minghao walking back to you.

when he sees you making yourself look lighter, he widen his eyes are yelled,

“y/n, what are you doing !? you have beautiful skin, you don’t need to change the filter !! who was talking shit ??” the girls quickly moved from their spots as you smiled at him. 

seungkwan. he’s a starring guest in a variety show, and the topic came to how the hosts see some pretty foreigners around seoul. they do joke around about some certain people they saw, but seungkwan mentions your struggles living in korea, to how even though some people call you beautiful and he explains how there times that you refuse to go out because of the racism you have to face living there. he’s saddened by this and spreads how everyone should treat everyone with respect, no matter what their race and religion they identify as.

“i love y/n very much. no one deserves the negative treatment she receives, i don’t want her to think that us koreans are bad people. please everyone, even if they’re not from here, give them comfort around their surroundings !”

vernon. he experiences racism himself ever since he was small since he’s half korean. but whenever he sees you being mistreated, he tries every way possible to make you feel better. he reads to you the lyrics for their upcoming album, tells how how cute and beautiful you are, and how you don’t need to change yourself. he just doesn’t have the guts to tell you that he likes you more than a friend. seeing how you are now is his reason why he loves you so dearly.

“don’t worry, y/n, don’t change yourself how you are now. you are unique and beautiful and i wish people can see you the way me and the members do.

chan. he honestly thinks you’re the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on. joshua tells him that you haven’t been feeling well due to people making fun of your weight and skin. he thought about how people are so blind to how you wanted to being a bit bulk rather than being really skinny and small. the next day, he wanted to remind you that he loves your tan skin and how you’re improving your health very well. he expresses that he loves seeing you happy how you are now, and it boosted your self-esteem a whole lot more than it was yesterday.

he feels like being with you is the reason why he’s slowly seeing the positive sides of foreigners. you’re always sweet to him and he never thought he’d fall in love with you this much.

“i hope you’re eating well, y/n! don’t listen what other people say about you, you are beautiful. i don’t understand why people hate your skin, it glows !”

bae; april 17th, 2020

[k-writer1998]

Rebel Hours (4/18)

Kwon Jieun always fit her parents’ image of the “perfect” daughter… at least to their knowledge. Away from prying eyes she was like any other girl living life to the fullest doing what she wants. When a little someone named Bang Chan comes into her life priorities are changed, mistakes are made, and her life finally becomes her own.

Fluff

w.c: 2k

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

      This past month, although busy as ever being a criminal justice major, has been like walking on cloud nine and it’s all thanks to a certain rapper. We’ve met up a few times for little study “dates” either at a coffee shop or wherever Chan decides to drag me to and text daily. By passing my feelings, because god knows what they are right now, I truly enjoy the time spent with Chan. He is the first person outside of my friend circle that has made me feel safe with being myself. I even told him my name… kind of. I got tired of feeling the heat rush to my cheeks every time he called me “princess” in crowded places so I told him to call me “Eun.” I didn’t want any association with my family when it came to him, plus this is supposed to be a casual thing so a little white lie won’t hurt anyone. It is a nickname… just one no one uses on me except him. 

      The only hard part was changing from "Congressman Kwon’s daughter Jieun" and her prep school looking clothes to “Eun’s” cute edgy outfits. I know it would’ve been easier to just live my life looking and acting like a proper lady like my parents wanted but that wasn’t me. Although the quick changes were because of Chan, I liked being able to breathe and be who I wanted to be. I was currently in a stall in one of the campus bathrooms adjusting my tied black crop top I just changed into before topping it off with a red plaid button up. Thank god my mom didn’t find skinny jeans “inappropriate” or this would have been a bit harder but the price you pay for freedom right? I finally took off the wig and tucked it neatly into my bag before leaving the stall. It was exhilarating to go out on campus knowing people wouldn’t recognize me, only a sliver of a chance that I could get caught. I spotted Chan sitting under a tree in the park with a smile. He was sitting on his jacket with his back to the tree, his laptop resting on his lap. I plopped next to him, placing my plaid down so I could sit on it, and took a glance at his screen.

“What are you working on?”

      He gave me a secretive smile as he turned his laptop away from me, slightly closing the screen so I couldn’t see it.

“A new track for 3racha.”

“Do I get a peek?”

“Not for free no. What would you do to get a special preview?”

"Hmmm, depends on the price. How about paying for lunch today?"

"But is lunch really worth a personal first listen to an unreleased song?" He teased.

"I mean food is life and it should, but fine. What will it cost?"

"Well they do say an eye for an eye so how about a secret for a secret?"

"I don't think this is the right context to use that saying but I'll bite," I laughed.

      I thought for a moment at what secret I could possibly tell him as I looked into his eyes. I don’t know if it’s the sincerity in his eyes or the tenderness behind his smiles but I’ve been quite honest with him about myself… give or take a few major details.

“Okay I can’t think of something on the spot like this. What kind of secret do you want to know?”

“Let’s see, what is the baddest thing you’ve done? You seem like someone who bends the rules to get your way.”

“I do make a few loop holes but the baddest thing I’ve done? Probably getting my tattoo behind my parents’ backs. Wait, no! The worst was helping you steal that plushie.”

      I laughed while taking out my notes as he gasped in mock surprise. He threw his hand over his heart and leaned into the tree, earning him a playful glare from me at his theatrics.

“Who knew you were a goody-two-shoes.”

“ I hate to break it to you but you’re the bad apple of us two, I think there will be trouble ahead for me if I keep hanging around bad company,” I teased.

“Or you’re a natural who just hasn’t woken to their true calling and don’t tell me you don’t like my company, no matter how bad I may be.”

      He gave me that playful smirk that I couldn’t help but return as we eyed each other for a moment. I made the first move, placing my back onto the trunk of the tree next to him and nudging him as I eyed the laptop expectantly. A soft chuckle fell from his lips before I felt the soft cushion of headphones on my ears. After a few moments my ears were greeted with a powerful track with a slight rock vibe. My lips naturally curled up in a pleased smile as I listened. Once it ended I gingerly took off the headphones and handed it back to him as my initial thought escaped my mouth.

“Well you went hard didn’t you?”

“I mean I can go hard on other things too if you want to find out,” he raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“CHAN! You’re so annoying, shut up,” I laugh.

“Hey you’re the one that said it.”

“And you know what I meant.”

      I playfully shoved his arm and we both laughed. We talked a bit more about the track before we fell into a comfortable silence working on our respective projects. We continued like this for an hour with the occasional conversation or joking in between before we grabbed a quick lunch and I had to head back to campus for my next class. Chan dropped me off at the front gate with a quick peck on the forehead before he had to leave to make it to his own class on time. On my way to change back I felt my phone ringing in my back pocket. Pulling it out my chipper mood soured because whenever she calls it's never good.

"Hi mom, I have to go to class soon but what's the matter?"

"You need to come home for two weeks. We are in the last stretch of the campaign and we need the whole family together."

"Two weeks? Mom that's too much, I'm already busy with all my assignments can't I just meet you at the events?"

"No! We have to arrive as a family and there will be a lot of events back to back so it's unlikely you'll make it back for class on time most days."

"Okay, I'll go to the main office after class and deal with the paperwork," I sigh.

"Okay?"

"... Yes mom…"

      Once the call ended a sigh escaped my lips as I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was as if God was reminding me of the risks if I continue down this path because no matter how much I tried to ignore my feelings, they were there and very clear. I like Chan. I moved off to the side of the walkway and just stood still with my eye closed. There was something calming about allowing the world to move around you as you stay still… A deep breath then I opened my eyes and was about to continue on my way when something caught my eye. A bright splash of color amongst the monotonous posters on the notice board I happen to be standing in front of. It was a flyer for a dance competition that spanned across quite a few campuses. There was a campus aside from my own that my eyes had recognized and the pit I got from the phone call sank deeper into the depths of my stomach.

      I forced myself away to change back and go to class but my mind wasn’t quite there anymore. It wasn’t until one of my classmates had nudged me that I realized class was over. Immediately I headed to the admission office to file for my two weeks leave. On the way to the office I felt a familiar buzz and pulled out my phone. Chan had just gotten out of class and had sent a cute text checking on me. I would’ve been all smiles and butterflies right now but the whirlwind of my thoughts had overpowered any giddy emotion that tried to surface. I swiped it off my screen and shoved it back into my pocket. Back at the apartment I started to pack and along the way Seungmin drifted in to check in with me. He laid in my bed on his phone while I was moving around my room and he casually talked with me.

“Can you survive staying with your parents?” 

“Not really but I just gotta fake it till I make it.”

“How are you going to explain to lover-boy? Seunghee said you didn’t tell him who you were.”

      For a second I froze in front of my closet, the unread text still floating in the back of my mind. I shook it from my thoughts as I continued to grab things and pile them into my suitcase. I was just glad that it was Seungmin with me right now and not his sister, she would have caught on to my behavior. 

“I’ll just tell him some relative got sick and it’s severe so my whole family is checking on them.”

“Do you plan on ever being honest with him?”

“I don’t know, maybe? I’m not really sure how I feel about him,” I lied.

      I let out an unsure laugh and he narrowed his eyes at me before shaking his head. All the boys probably know how much I like Chan by now but I couldn’t let any of them know of what I plan to do. It’s dumb I know but I feel like I have no other choice. I made a promise within myself that I will not let what happened to Minhyuk happen again and if that means breaking both our hearts then so be it. A broken heart is a small price to pay… right?

      One agonizing week passed and I hated it. In the beginning I had told Chan the lie as planned and he was very understanding but “understanding” can only last so long when I’m so obviously avoiding him. Partly I was trying to put distance between us two but also I couldn’t really answer even if I wanted to when there were various events to attend and lots of people I had to pretend to care about. In moments of weakness, where I was run ragged both physically and mental with the show I had to put on, I did text back but even I could tell he was catching a hint. My thoughts were interrupted by my mom calling me down to greet a guest. When I saw who it was I didn’t know if it was heaven or hell sent when I greeted Seunghee. I’ve been trying to avoid her when I heard she was back, using my parents as an excuse but spending so much time with just my parents was driving me insane. Judging from the glare she was giving me behind my mother’s back, I knew I was in for it. Sadly being best friends for so long she could tell when I’m lying so I could only tell the truth. I mentally prepared myself to be ripped to shreds as we went up to my room. 

“How come your home Seunghee? You didn’t tell me you’d be back. We haven’t caught up in awhile, how are you?”

“You would’ve known if you ever answered my calls or messages. My parents need me to attend that one gala for charity or whatever but that’s not the point. Are you going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

“Hard way?” She gave me a pointed glare and I sighed, “you’re gonna be mad...”

“God Jieun, what did you do? It has to do with Chan doesn’t it? I swear you better not have done what I think you did.”

      I can see the exasperation in her eyes as I nervously fiddle with my pillow as I hug it to my chest. From her perch on my desk and how she crossed her arms she already guessed what I did but she still wanted to hear it from my own mouth.

“I mean… not completely?”

“Explain,” she ordered.

[devil-kindred]

death stranding adventures- final

I finished Death Stranding!

A recap on the events through the end of the game + my thoughts as they occurred below the cut! Beware spoilers if you haven’t played the game!

- left port knot with the order for fragile and found myself looking at a sea of the blob BTs- not exactly a joyous moment. I finally figured out why they look familiar though! They resemble the Portuguese man o’war! Which makes sense in keeping with the beached/aquatic creature theme given: the fish that show up after you defeat the catchers, the catchers themselves, THE WHALE, the little floating crabs, etc. The lions don’t fit the theme obviously, but I chalk that up to them being more of a Higgs thing? Since he’s the reason you encounter one in the first place.

- I got Sam through the floating BT minefield without too much trouble by hugging the moutainside and using the rifle to take out the ones that were closest to make a path. After that, there was a brief reprieve and then I had to fight a catcher BT. Did that then the normal BTs appeared once I progressed a little further. Made it past that, then rushed through mule territory and then, more BTs. This time 4-5 lion BTs (i don’t remember which but I know it was more than 3 because I thought I was done and then about got Sam stomped on by the one that I missed). Finally finished that and got a TON of chiral crystals for my trouble which was admittedly kinda nice, though my thoughts were mostly “please just let me finish this delivery T_T” by that point.

- Continued the trek to the Capitol Knot City and noticed the sky had changed from a color I refer to as “tornado green” to this very ominous red shade. Not a good sign, followed by rumbling noises that made a even worse sign. Nearly to the city gate (as in maybe the length of one of the bridges you can build level close) and then. A whale. Falls. Out of the sky. ._. Guessed it was time for round whatever number I was on at this point and once again, Sam with the standard reaction to weird BTs goes “what the fuck”. My thoughts exactly at this point.

- Climbed onto whatever thing that emerged from the tar was closest and then clambered onto a building that appeared. Was helped once again (as I was with the previous fights) by a ghostly Sam that lobbed all sorts of neat useful things my way, most importantly two grenade launchers and a multi rocket launcher. Thank you ghostly Sam! I would’ve been doomed without your help. Defeated the whale, collected more chiral crystals, then FINALLY made it to capitol knot.

- Delivered the items to Fragile who looked... really not well. I was concerned there was going to be another loss, but Sam waved a cryptobiote in front of her face and she woke up. Prior to Sam walking up to he, Mama/Lockne ran over and tried to hug him which Sam was (understandably) having absolutely none of but at least he was kinda gentle when he stopped her.

- They explained the whole thing that happened and how Fragile was essentially bounced back from Amelie’s beach and that she wanted Sam to go to her. So they have a long convo about how Sam needs to go and has to find a way to stop her, but also understand that he might not be able to come back. Pretty sobering, but ok. He and Fragile do the forehead touch (which I know helps but it’s so cute, I can’t) and she tells him to picture Amelie’s beach and feel the connection to her. Fragile does the same “I know you love her” thing as the first time and Sam gets sent over to the beach. Fragile looked very sad, chiral allergy tears aside. Which, given that she probably considered him a friend by this point, fits since there’s no guarantee he’ll come back let alone be able to stop Amelie.

- Elsewhere, on Amelie’s beach things are... not looking good. There’s dead sea creatures everywhere, the water’s red, and the sun thing looks like it’s going to turn everything on the beach into smoldering ashes any second. Sam finally finds Amelie after running around for a while and she reveals she’s an EE, which he already technically knew thanks to Higgs. Amelie explains a bunch of stuff and tells Sam to make a choice: stay with her and watch the world end (no thanks) or stop her. Sam pulls the gun which does no good and upon following her, gets a prompt to hug her. He does and they both get super emotional (which is in turn making ME get emotional) and then Amelie shoves him away.

- Sam plummets into the ocean and somehow gets bounced back to his own beach. Where he’s blue? For some reason. I don’t think it’s a tint because everything else on the beach looked the same colors it always was in prior sequences. He’s the only thing that’s not. Which, there is a reason for I’m sure. Anyways.

- Cue running along the beach for eternity a good while with Sam stopping every so often to sit down and catch his breath as well as reflect on what Amelie told him. Which was a lot. She explained that she and Bridget are one and the same, a separation of Ka and Ha that managed to coexist. She also says she got bored of waiting for the end and decided to bring about the extinction early and, while I can understand that’s her purpose as an EE, way to say fuck humanity I guess.

- In between more running and resting, it’s revealed that Sam is the BB Cliff (aka Mr. Combat Veteran) was looking for. His son. (Which you find out kinda after fighting him for the third? time.) Sam was apparently an experiement and a potential sacrifice (man this game gets dark fast) for something. Die-Hardman- aka John- told Cliff as much in less words and instructed him to take his son and run. Cliff does and bad things ensue when he gets cornered. John/Die-Hardman was given the order to shoot Cliff and when he refused to Bridget/Amelie made him, quite literally, by grabbing his hand and making him pull the trigger. My thought process during these has bacially centered around “wow Bridget is awful” but add the swearing of your choice to that sentence. Basically, I do not feel charitable towards Ms. Extinction Entity.

- Cliff took BB Sam out of the pod at some point and when Bridget shot him via using John/Die-Hardman as a puppet, she also shot BB Sam. Upon realizing this, she freaks out. Which is understandable given that she just killed a man and a baby. But what did she think was going to happen? That Cliff would throw his teeny baby son across the room when she pulled the trigger? What exactly was her expectation here?

- So BB Sam died and went to the beach. Or was it his own beach? They all start to blur together a little after a while. Amelie finds the BB, which is blue because it’s not breathing (ooh hey maybe that’s why adult Sam is blue? ... but my understanding is when Fragile jumped him to Amelie’s beach, all of him went— not just his soul. So maybe not? Is it symbolic? Am I just looking too hard into this?) and does infant cpr (I think?) and lo and behold, BB Sam is brought back to life! She tells him she knows the way home and puts him in the ocean. & in upsetting the balance of life and death, she made him a repatriate

- Once again back on the beach, Sam decides he’s had enough of being stuck there and remembers the gun and Amelie’s words that “a gun won’t help you here but it still has a role to play” and decides to use it as a way to end the beach cycle. There’s a click and then the title “Death Stranding”. I was very confused at first and just kind of stared at the tv like “that’s it? All that for—“ and then a little button prompt showed up on the bottom with the words “reconnect with the living”. Push the button and oh look, Sam’s still alive (Which is very much a joyous moment for me as a concerned player)! He tries again a few times and realizes it doesn’t work, then hears a very familiar song. Following the sound he finds little BB handprints in the sand and following those leads him to some familiar voices.

- Amelie/Bridget shows up again, this time in white as opposed to her signature red (i know there’s symbolism in that change, maybe rebirth? or just signifying that she’s trying to be on humanity’s side of things this time around?) and tells him that he still has ties to the living and then points at the five figures floating in the sky⏤ presumably meant to represent Deadman, Mama, Lockne, Heartman, and Lou. Or is it Deadman, Mama/Lockne, Heartman, Lou, and Die-Hardman? Following that, various voices belonging to those mentioned above remark that they can see him and just need to bring him back. Sam winds up in the ocean again (i’m finishing up this post almost a week after beating the game so my memory is tad iffy on the exact way things happened) and is greeted with the sight of Deadman holding Lou in her little pod while he’s got his hand around Sam’s ankle.

- They manage to bring him back to the land of the living and what follows is a fair amount of cutscenes. In the absence of Bridget/Amelie/Samantha ‘America’ Strand (the woman who never existed), Die-Hardman takes up the mantle of president (good for him!). He reveals his face to the crowd (and presumably everyone watching from... wherever they may be) and starts talking about the unsung hero none of this would’ve been possible without... which is about the time Sam, who’s been hanging out in the very back of the room (mood), decides to bail (also a mood). He slows a little when Die-Hardman says the hero doesn’t need to be named, they all know who it is and they’re all for grateful for their efforts. He keeps walking and exits into the hall and wow, BRIDGES buildings are a lot bigger than you’d think from looking at the outside which is large in general but inside is... a lot.

- Deadman catches up with him and drops some information about Die-Hardman aka John. Which I think Sam already knew due to the sequence while trapped on the beach but oh well. Sam continues down the hall and tries to pass Die-Hardman who appeared from somewhere? I’m going to guess parts of the facility loop or there was a change in scenery and I just wasn’t paying enough attention. He confesses information about his past, including how he got his name, and kinda has an emotional breakdown which made me very sad for him and increased the number of times i cried while playing this game. Sam gives Die-Hardman/John back his gun and repeats Amelie/Bridget’s words and leaves.

- Sam goes to leave the building and runs into Deadman again who hands over Lou’s pod and... Lou’s dead. Which was very depressing and the knowledge of which hurt. A lot. Deadman tells him to take Lou to the incinerator and takes Sam’s cuffs offline while giving some useful information: his location is undetectable by BRIDGES while his cuffs are offline and they will automatically reconnect to the network when he uses the incinerator. Sam nods, gives Deadman a hug and tells him “thanks for everything”. Which is more than a thank you, it’s a good-bye and kojima has now broken my heart into five billion pieces. Sam departs, gets out the big door, and... oh hey, Fragile!

- They chat briefly, during which she reveals that she’s carrying on her father’s legacy and that Fragile Express now has a private contract with BRIDGES and they’re the first independent company to have it. Good for them! She comments on Lou (I think) and remarks that he at least shouldn’t need an umbrella. Then asks him if he’d work for her. Sam says no and explains how he felt when he first began his journey and reveals he still feels that way (and now i’m even more sad! let’s take the five billion pieces that are my heart and just shove them in blender at this point, why not!). Fragile is upset and I think she tried to stop him again but he left anyways. 

- Thus begins the trek to the incinerator with BB’s Theme playing on the way there (it’s a wonder i could even see the tv at this point as the ending just keeps hammering the sad nail home). Finally made it to the incinerator taking the same path I did on the first visit (thanks Igor for the tools!) and Sam enters the building, takes off his cuffs and sets both those and Lou’s pod down on the incinerator before he remembers Deadman’s words. He snatches Lou’s pod back just in time and the slab descends into the floor, the doors seal shut, and turn his cuffs into ashes. It’s revealed that Sam took Lou out of the pod and not much has changed. He tries infant cpr and hearing his words the entire time literally had me sobbing. Sam says “come on baby’ and he’s crying (i’m crying and now the blended pieces of my heart are being run over by a steam-roller) until he finally gives up... and then... Lou lives! There are a bunch of baby BT’s floating nearby in the incinerator which is a little concerning, but hey Lou’s alive! Sam cradles little Lou to his chest and she’s so tiny⏤ her little skull is barely the size of his palm! Anyways, Sam and Lou walk outside and it starts to rain... but the sun is shining, the rain causes no harm to him or Lou (or Sam’s clothing) and a rainbow appears. The first normal rainbow in the entire game. Which is a good sign, I think? The title screen appears once more and woo! I beat the game!

This was a very unique and fun game, and I can honestly say I enjoyed every minute of it. Between the music, the environment, the characters, and all the lore you can uncover by reading Sam’s mail... it was an amazing experience. I still have some trophies I’m missing and I think I only need 10 more to platinum the game so I’ll be playing chapter 15 for a little while longer. Plus I want to rebuild all the roads + find all the memory chips. I do want to replay the game in it’s entirety sometime just to see what i pick up on ahead of time the second go-around. And, while I may have beat the game, this is going to be another one of my forever fandoms. I don’t have much contributed right now, but I hope to have more things posted soon now that I know the whole story. if anyone ever wants to chat about the game, fic, or anything, feel free to send me a message!

[diminished-fish]

References for “A Portrait in Synesthesia”

This fic is COMPLETE now, so anyone who might have been hesitant to follow a wip, here you go! The whole synesthetic package, wrapped up with a nice lil bow on top. :3

For those who might have missed the masterpost: the fic was my contribution to the good omens big bang and is a sweeping, canon-compliant romp through history, told in (almost) all original scenes, with lots of nature imagery and T.S. Eliot. Kind of my own cold open, but with way more feelings and flowers. Also the sea. And an emotionally significant comet.

I had the opportunity to throw all of myself at this project and really enjoyed making it an intense focus for a while. In a way, it was an experiment to see how much I was capable of, which as it turns out, is more than I thought! (there’s a lesson here, probably...). Going this deep with the research and worldbuilding is not something I will likely be doing often for fic writing, but since I did with this one, I figured I’d share a bit of the process.

Under the cut are major spoilers for the timeline, story, and historic events in my recent fic, A Portrait in Synesthesia. I had originally planned to post this information in the end notes of the fic, but at some point, the list got way too long and posting it here became the sensible choice. There is a link to this post in the end notes of the fic, so it will be easy to find your way back here if you get to the end and want to know a bit more about the writing and research process. 

The Title:

Putting this bit at the top because I don’t know where else to put it: The working title for this fic throughout the entire writing process was “In Synesthesia.” I almost changed the final title in the eleventh hour to “The Still Point of the Turning World” because of what a prevalent theme Eliot became (that line was also slipped into the story three times at important moments — once for each POV character). I also briefly considered “Always, We Were Enough” as a title, since the conversation with Adrielle at the lighthouse kind of... accidentally became the thesis of the whole story, but that was a bit too sappy even for me, a Confirmed Sap. 

And while I’ll be questioning my choice of title for the rest of forever (titling things is hard, y’all), I ultimately thought the more descriptive title was best, and wanted to keep the nod to the song that inspired it all.

Speaking of the song... have you listened to it yet?? It’s great, I promise!

Synesthesia:

This was my research starting point. Before I dug into any of the historical or astronomical research or even started any serious plotting, I started reading about synesthesia, or, as Psychology Today defines it: the neurological condition in which the stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (for example, hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (such as vision).

Full disclosure: I do not have synesthesia. I spent a LOT of time researching it for this fic and did my best to portray it accurately, in spite of the fantastical elements I added. If I’ve overstepped or gotten something wrong and there are any synesthetes out there who would like to talk about it, I am very open to those discussions. The AO3 comments are always open to that, or you can message me/send me an ask here if you would like a less public forum.

I probably read r/Synesthesia in its entirety, but this thread of first-hand accounts was one of the most interesting to me and provided a lot of the inspiration for how I used the emotional synesthesia imagery. 

Besides everyone’s favorite research staring point of Wikipedia, this link is one I got from Boston University’s Synesthesia Project, and it is a pretty exhaustive list of research and books, as well as art and poetry about synesthesia. I have also been working my way through The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, by Oliver Sacks which is the book that came most frequently recommended to me in my search. It’s an extremely approachable and interesting look at neurological conditions, synesthesia among them.

As it appears in the fic:

In a broad, generalized sense, Aziraphale and Crowley have a few types of synesthesia in this story. Obviously, I gave it a supernatural/celestial twist and a healthy glug of magical realism, but I did try to keep it firmly rooted in the actual condition. The types of synesthesia they have are:

Chromesthesia: they both have this. Sounds, specifically each other’s voices, have a color association

Lexical-gustatory synesthesia/emotion-flavor synesthesia: Aziraphale has this. Words (in this case, emotions, specifically Crowley’s emotional state) have a taste.

Odor-color synesthesia/emotion-odor synesthesia: Crowley has this. Words (again, emotions, specifically Aziraphale’s emotional state) have a smell.

One of the defining characteristics of synesthesia is that it is constant. If a synesthete connects the number 9 with the color blue, for example, then they will always connect them in this way. This was the major difference between real synesthesia and the fantasy synesthesia in this fic. The sensory/emotion connections for Aziraphale and Crowley changed in subtle ways as their relationship evolved through the ages.

The “binding thread” also had nothing to do with synesthesia. That was me wanting to make the spool analogy work for the body swap, baking it into the entire fic because I liked how the imagery fit with the synesthesia, and then leaning into the magic and the soul memory so hard that I fell flat on my face into magical realism. (A True Fact: I have spent a fair amount of time lying on the floor in the past 6 months, shaking my fist at the cute little plot bunny who grew fangs and claws and dragged me down a rabbit hole that ended up being 100k words deep). 

Anyway! Research!

Before I get into space and history and flowers... Yes, I admit to absolutely making up some wacky shit about Europa for the sake of fun banter and making a metaphor work. All those pre-Fall scenes on abandoned Earths are 100% a fantasy setting and I exercised the super fun right of a fantasy writer and embraced the worldbuilding (moonbuilding?). I also just thought Crowley would have delighted in tying a moon’s guts in knots, and Aziraphale would have delighted in the idea of whimsy-for-whimsy’s-sake. Please don’t lose sleep over the scientific inaccuracies.

Halley’s comet:

I promise not to bog this down with a billion comet facts, but there were a few particular things about Halley’s comet that had me gasping dramatically about how it’s “A.J. Crowley, but a comet!!” Specifically, it’s orbit and it’s structure. 

Halley’s retrograde orbit gives it one of the fastest velocities (relative to Earth) of any object in the solar system. I never explicitly worked the “you go too fast for me” line into the fic because I was trying to do original scenes (this particular story lived between the lines), but... just know that tidbit is there and join me in these emotional dire straits. If you like.

The comet’s structure is what is known as a “rubble pile”, meaning it’s made up of a bunch of smaller rocks held together by gravity (read: a hot god damn mess held together by stubbornness). 

As it appears in the fic:

The nucleus of Halley’s comet is shaped like a weird lopsided peanut. In fact, one could almost look at it and say it resembles a contact binary star, if such a thing could be a shriveled, misshapen pile of rubble.

Officially, Halley’s comet might have been recorded as early as 467 BC (a comet was recorded in Greece that year— unclear if it was Halley’s, but the timing and the fact that it was visible to the naked eye suggests that it probably was). This was the year I had Aziraphale making the scroll that causes Crowley’s panic in Athens (390 BC). I like to think that some human, at some point, caught a glimpse of it and tried to bring it to light, only to be written off as a crazed conspiracy theorist.

The apocalyptic depiction of Halley’s comet in chapter 9 (Bithynia) is actually based in fact. The comet made its closest approach to Earth (in human memory) in 837 AD, passing within 5 million kilometers. Its tail stretched halfway across the sky and it appeared as bright as Venus to the naked eye.

1910 Halley’s Comet panic. Bonus: c o m e t  p i l l s

Where 1910′s appearance was a spectacular sight and one of the closest approaches on record (coming within 22 million kilometers of Earth), 1986′s was the worst viewing conditions in 2,000 years. The comet passed within 63 million kilometers at its closest approach, and had the sun positioned between it and Earth, making it impossible to see from areas with any amount of light pollution, and almost invisible to all of the northern hemisphere. 

Historic events and settings:

Chapter 6 (Ostia): This was one of the chapters that I did a bunch of arguably unnecessary research for, since the history and the meat of the setting faded into the backdrop as the scene itself focused on dialogue and train of thought. The port town of Ostia was incredibly engrossing to read about, and between wikipedia’s ever-branching paths, ostia-antica.org, and ancient history encyclopedia’s entry, it ended up being one of the deeper rabbit holes I went down. My original intent for Aziraphale being in town was as a response to pirates sacking Ostia in 68 BC. I had him stationed there to guard against further attacks as the town rebuilt, and had him lingering because he was swept away by the romanticism of the art and the sea and the constant ebb & flow of people. I never found a way to work this in that didn’t feel super awkward and expository since the chapter was Crowley POV, so it was just left it as background noise.

Chapter 6 (pyramid of Cestius): Beyond being a magistrate of one of the four great religious corporations in ancient Rome (the Septemviri Epulonum), little is known about who Gaius Cestius actually was. As the city expanded, his lavish tomb was absorbed into the city walls (circa 3rd century AD), where it remains what he is remembered for to this day. I took most of my information from here (cross referenced with our lord and savior, Wikipedia) and had a chuckle at this poem by Thomas Hardy.

Chapter 8 (Plague of Justinian): The Yersinia pestis bacterium leaves no indicator on skeletal remains, meaning we rely on written records to track its path through history. The 6th century plague pandemic is the first recorded outbreak of bubonic plague, and for the purpose of our story, a certain distraught chronicler was the one on site, writing that history.

A note/cw: I wrote chapters 8 and 12 in October and November, respectively, and did much of my research for them over the summer. I imagine, given the current covid-19 pandemic, these sources would be less fun to follow up on now. Please be aware that the podcast episodes linked here, and the book cited in the miscellaneous refs section, get into pretty grisly details about illness and pandemics.

Chapters 8 and 12 (bubonic plague/The Black Death): I took a fair amount of my notes on bubonic/pnuemonic plague, specifically it’s path of destruction through Europe in the 14th century, from the two plague episodes of This Podcast Will Kill You. It’s pretty fascinating stuff and the Erins are great hosts, so check it out if you’re into delightful nerds bantering about epidemiology! 

Chapter 9 (the death of Peter of Atroa): Peter of Atroa was an abbot whose fame as a miracle-worker landed him in a scandal accusing him of exorcising demons by the power of Beelzebub, rather than God. Theodore the Studite’s letter cleared his name enough to avoid execution, but his reputation didn’t fully recover until after his death in 837 AD, when he was canonized as a saint. Peter and Theodore were tough to find extensive information on without passing through a paywall, so I took these scraps and ran a mile with them.

Chapter 13 (Tlatelolco, the Aztec Empire, the Feast of the Dead): I used this site as the source and starting point on much of my research on the Aztec Empire. And listen… I know it looks like a website for babies, and yes, I’m aware that a lot of the articles are literally written for a pre-teen audience, but it’s also one of the most concise, thorough, well-researched, and — perhaps most importantly — easily-searchable sources I found. Most of the pages cite papers and archaeological journals and I was able to jump to SO many other great sources of information. Mexicolore has my undying love and devotion for making my research process easy and fun and also having lots of pretty pictures.

Most of the physical descriptions for Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco (surrounding landscape, canals and causeways, chinampas, etc.) started here.

Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco were independent cities, but shared a border (kind of like a city and a suburb) and the small island on Lake Texcoco (located where present day Mexico City is). Tenochtitlan was the capital city of the Aztec Empire, and besides cross-referencing Mexicorlore, the link in the previous bullet point, and Wikipedia, I got a fair bit of information from these essays. 

Tlatelolco’s market was the major hub of trade and commerce, and saw 20-40,000 people trading PER DAY. Research on the market started here.

Chapter 14 (Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse): While I strove for historical accuracy as much as possible in this fic, I did take some liberties— especially with the island of Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse (yes, it’s real!) circa 1350-1435. 

The village of Brandarius is based on present day West Terschelling— a settlement founded as a direct result of the lighthouse. In the middle ages, both the village and the lighthouse were named after Saint Brandarius (or Brendan of Clonfert: ‘The Navigator’, ‘The Voyager’, ‘The Anchorite’, ‘The Bold’; patron saint of divers, mariners, and travellers). It’s still a relatively small village today, and it was a surprisingly difficult task to find historical records for Brandarius/West Terschelling dating back to the 14th century that say much beyond “it existed.” I loosely based the village off information found here, and named it “Brandarius” instead of “West Terschelling” based on the information found here. 

The original lighthouse was built in 1323, destroyed by the sea in 1570, and rebuilt in 1594. Since there were no records (that I could find) of what the original lighthouse looked like, I loosely based the height and floor plan on the current tower, and made up everything everything else about the interior. The interior was based on information about other live-in lighthouses, specifically this one which is roughly the same height as the Brandaris.

The present day Brandaris lighthouse sits directly in the middle of West Terschelling. For the sake of that sweet Self-Imposed Exile + Cryptid Lighthouse Keeper drama, I took the liberty of making my fictional village of Brandarius teeny tiny and setting it slightly apart from the lighthouse. 

Miscellaneous references:

In addition to the podcast, details about plague in chapters 8 and 12 were gleaned from the book The Great Mortality by John Kelly. It’s a cool read if you’re into nonfiction that reads like fiction, but does have some rather graphic passages so proceed with caution.

Yaretzi’s maquizcóatl/Aziraphale’s memento. To clarify, they were NOT the same item. I pictured Aziraphale cherishing the memory of the day by the lake with Yaretzi so much, that once he acquired the bookshop and had a place for all his kitsch, he hunted down a bad luck dragon of his own.

Here is the Aztec creation story about sun cycles and Earth’s rebirths that Yaretzi told Aziraphale. Another version of it.

In the scene in Mexico where Aziraphale briefly remembers, I used an analogy about a moment that hovers and flits away as “quick as a hummingbird.” Besides just liking the words, this was a nod to the legend of the cempasuchil flower. I originally had Yaretzi telling Aziraphale that story too, but the chapter was just way too long and something had to go.

In my very first outline, I had Aziraphale’s grief and personal growth chapter taking place at a Día de Muertos festival in Mexico. When the plot and the timeline finally got ironed out and I realized only half of that story was going to take place on Earth, I ended up focusing on Aziraphale’s brief relationship with Yaretzi instead of the festival itself (she was always the important bit). I also found myself married to the idea of that chapter happening in the 14th and 15th centuries, which meant the scenes in Mexico take place before Spain invaded and the festival was based solely on its Aztec roots. Because the plot shifted in this way, a lot of research went on behind the scenes that never made it into the fic, but for anyone interested in the Aztec Feast of the Dead, Mexicolore was my starting place again. From there, I found my way to reading about Mictecacíhuatl, the Aztec goddess of death, who was the main focus of the festival.

This isn’t research, but it might interest, like… three of you, so here you go. The scenes in Heaven (Aziraphale’s solo chapter in general tbh) were hard to write. One of those walls you hit with writing where you kick and punch and bang your head against it for months (literal months, I started wrestling with it in August and it didn’t come together until the end of January) but can’t seem to make any breakthroughs. Inspiration truly comes from unexpected places though, and when @gottagobuycheese sent me this Gregorian chant generator it actually… worked? I cranked that hum slider up to 100 and left it there for a few days (to the chagrin of my spouse) and lo— Zophiel.

There’s a cool legend about Saint Brendan of Clonfert’s sea-faring journey in search of the Garden of Eden that has nothing to do with this fic beyond being neat parallel. If that happens to be anyone’s cup of tea, the story is here. The tl;dr version is here. My original vision for the lighthouse included carved whales (St Brendan’s attribute) over the front door, and images from this story (the island of sheep, the Christmas island, the paradise island of birds) drawn on the walls of one of the bedrooms used by previous keepers’ children. Continuing the theme of “how stories echo” if you will. It felt really awkward and out of place once I wrote it in though, and that chapter was already so long once I got through all the plot bits I wanted, so it was left on the cutting room floor. 

Speaking of taking liberties with the 14th century, I did fudge the timing a bit on the art created by Crowley and Adrielle. Drawings, especially pencil sketches, have their historical roots in the late 15th century, and I’m chalking this one up to the fantastical setting of the Good Omens universe. In a fantasy world where angels and demons walk among us and the earth is literally 6,000 years old, I feel like inventing pencils 100 years early is small potatoes. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

This is the edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that Crowley nicked in Norwich. There are some really wonderful illustrations and scans of full pages under that link. I may or may not have lost a few hours down that research rabbit hole for a few throwaway lines (no regrets, I fall like Crowley). 

One last rabbit hole...

I saved this bit for the end of the post since it’s not really research and I don’t know how interested people will be in this kind of thing. Also... this is a lot more emotional and personal than the historical aspects of the fic. This is just what I was feeling and thinking while I was writing, and this story is absolutely the kind of thing I expect everyone to take something different away from. If you read the fic, took your own meaning from it, and want to keep that meaning without me tarnishing it by babbling about symbolism (first of all, high five, I love you, thank you for hanging out with me and my stories), then feel free to skip the rest of this post. <3

But! For anyone who wants to know more about what I had in mind with the flowers and nature metaphors I worked into the story, read on!

The tag “it’s an OT3 where Earth is the third” is something I really worked to pull to center stage. In my mind, Earth was a fully formed character who also spent the pre-Fall storyline being jerked around by God and having its memory wiped. It experienced transformations, pain, heartbreak, joy, and love just like Aziraphale and Crowley did, and I wrote it as falling in love with the two of them over the course of the Earth Project, then remaining very much in love for the entirety of iteration 23 (the current iteration). “Memories that are buried in places deeper than the mind” referred to the soul imprints being formed, but also Earth’s buried memories— seeping through the cracks to connect them via synesthesia in emotionally charged moments, allowing them to find each other from orbit in iterations 20 and 21 (music and the sea), and pulling them together in moments of distress like Constantinople and Barcelona.

In the vein of “Earth as a character,” I used plants (mainly flowers), topography, and weather as Earth’s “voice” in the grief chapters when Crowley and Aziraphale were separated from each other and going through their individual arcs. I’m not sure it technically counts as flower language, since all the flowers featured in the fic were wild and growing in nature, but (almost) all of them served a metaphorical purpose.

Flowers:

Jasmine (for the moon): Aziraphale’s flower. Love, beauty, sensuality, good luck, purity. The rational hedonist.

Marigolds (for the sun): Crowley’s flower. Grief and remembrance of the dead, lost love, the fragility of life, creativity, winning the affections of someone through hard work. The fallen artist.

Purple Hyacinth: Earth’s flower. Regret, sorrow, a desire for forgiveness. The witness. These were the wildflowers that grew in the orchard/vineyard on the penultimate Earth, where Aziraphale and Crowley managed to work out the differences they couldn’t by the sea. Hyacinths are also the hazy images they would see in those moments of vulnerability, compassion, and compromise. 

A fun aside! In very early drafts, the placeholder name I was using for angel Crowley was Jacinto, which is a Spanish/Portuguese name meaning “Hyacinth.” It was meant to be a reference to both the flower and the Greek myth of Apollo and Hyacinth, but my brain absolutely could not disconnect it from Manny Jacinto (and kept insisting on imagining Crowley calling Aziraphale homie and calling everything dope). Eventually I leaned into the Latin and landed on Joriel, then attached my banner to the Achilles and Patroclus myth instead of Apollo and Hyacinth, but the name Jacinto still makes me think of starmakers.

Honeysuckle & morning glory, climbing the oak tree: Aziraphale + Crowley + Earth. Seen in chapter 10, when Aziraphale and Crowley shake hands on the Arrangement. Two plants whose vines grow in opposing spirals. In nature, they have a symbiotic relationship, twining around each other in order to climb trees, walls, and fences, allowing both of them to grow higher than they could alone. 

Or: local woman sees this tweet, hasn’t known peace since.

The deasilwise / widdershins (clockwise / anticlockwise) thing got sprinkled throughout the story, with deasilwise being the “angel direction” and widdershins being the “demon direction.” Halley’s comet, with its backwards orbit, orbits the sun deasilwise, even after Crowley becomes widdershins.

Amaranth: Immortality, unfading affection, finding beauty in inaccessible places. 

The garden in the dunes and Petya’s travelling garden:

Where Aziraphale took a methodical, Kubler-Ross approach to dealing with loss, Crowley’s process was meandering and chaotic. The garden in the dunes was where it all came to a head— his way of throwing all of his emotions on the ground like a big jumbled pile of pick-up sticks, then slowly sorting through them and putting himself back together. There was a whole lot of Earth/flower speech going on in those scenes.

With the exception of zinnias, the garden was made up of perennials or self-sowing flowers. This happened “off-screen” as I could never find a decent way to work it in, but... the zinnias which Crowley bullied into being perennials returned to being annuals and died off after he left Terschelling and sometimes I still cry in the shower about it. 

Zinnias: Adrielle’s flower. Endurance, lasting friendship (especially friendships lasting through absence), goodness, daily remembrance. This one is also a small self-indulgence on my part since Adrielle was something of a self-insert. My mother loves zinnias and, growing up, our house was absolutely surrounded by them in the summer. Anywhere there was a free patch of dirt, Mom planted zinnias. They’re a scrappy, weird looking flower that doesn’t have a smell and a lot of people find rather ugly... and I love them with my entire heart. There is no flower on this earth that fills me with more whimsy, nostalgia, or childlike contentment. Also butterflies love them.

Chamomile: Patience. Fresh chamomile flowers are very aromatic and smell like apples.

Daisies: Transformation. Also simplicity, loyalty, and new beginnings.

Poppies: Restful sleep or recovery, peace in death, remembrance.

Tulips: Each tulip color has its own meaning, but the most common thing they symbolize is deep love. That said, I mainly chose this one for their prevalence in the Netherlands, as well as being very colorful perennials.

Pansies: The love or admiration that one person holds for another, free thinking, remembrance.

Lily of the valley: Rebirth, the return of happiness. They also have a very strong, very sweet smell and can grow in cool climates. These were the main reasons I chose it, rather than any of the religious connotations.

Lavender: Silence, devotion, serenity, grace.

Orchids: There’s... actually no deep symbolism with this one. Nothing intended anyway. Orchids, lavender, and cranberries are the dominant native plants on the island of Terschelling. I thought they’d be pretty in the dunes.

I am also a music-must-be-playing-at-all-times kind of person and I came out the other end of this project with FIFTEEN (15) playlists. Some of them are all instrumental playlists that I used to set the mood while I wrote certain scenes/segments, others are lyrical and tell a story or helped me sort out the story, some chapters got entire playlists all to themselves (looking at you, 14th century). The main playlists are linked in the notes on AO3, but I may collect them all in a tumblr post at some point if there’s an interest.

This entire project was an enormous labor of love that took up pretty much all of my free time for six months. So, if you read this far... thank you for coming on such a long journey with me!! Truly, deeply, and from every corner of my heart, thank you for reading. <3