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texasmadehustler · 1 year

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1. Why are there traffic jams when everyone’s trying to get home around five o’clock?

2. Shouldn’t there always be traffic jams around five o’clock?

3. What are we here for anyway—and why aren’t we happy about it?

4. In a world where everything goes wrong all at once, how can any one thing matter more than another thing—including happiness itself?

5. When do I feel truly alive?

6. Is there any point in crying over spilt milk (or other tragedies) once they’ve happened and can no longer be changed?

7. Which religious (if any) upbringing gives us true peace of mind as adults – none, one, several…or some combination thereof…?

8. Is time a constant, a variable…or a fantasy?

9. Why are some days harder than others?

10. Is it easier said than done?

11. Is there a reason we should believe that we should value certain lives over others?

12. Why do we take chances – knowing there’s a chance we’ll fail?

13. How old was Jesus when his parents lost him in Jerusalem (Luke :-)?

14. Were there dinosaurs before Adam and Eve were created (Genesis :)?

15. Is there a difference between being successful and being happy?

16. What are our greatest hopes?

17. Where are we going as a species, as a world, as individuals?

18. Is everything worth it in life?

19. Why are some things difficult to deal with now but easy later on, while other things are hard to deal with now yet will become much easier later on?

20. What defines our existence as human beings—consciousness or being conscious of oneself as being conscious?

21. Who are we kidding when we say I have no regrets?

22. Is there a greater cause for which we should live our lives, other than just living life itself?

23. Are we alone in space?

24. Are we alone in time?

25. Does being happy really matter in a world where billions struggle with hunger and poverty every day?

1. Is there a right way to live life as well as a wrong way?

2. Is death better than life?

3. If a woman knew she were going to die in hours, what would she say/do during those last hours of her life?

4. Do we control our destiny or are we just pawns in a chess game called life?

5. Is there such a thing as free will, or are things pre-determined, such as fate decides who wins and loses in life before we’re even born into it?

6. Did we make a difference in someone’s life because we were here today?

7. Is there a difference between happiness and meaning in life?

8. When did we decide that having material things means we’re living a successful life?

9. If every person was unique, then wouldn’t each person’s life be unique as well?

10. Is there an afterlife?

11. Why should one choose a healthy lifestyle?

12. Which things in life do we take for granted – and which things should we never take for granted?

13. When will I stop blaming others and take responsibility for where I’m at in life right now?

1. Is there one point where everyone could come together as one?

2. Why are we always trying to figure out how others fit into our lives?

3. Why aren’t we more concerned with figuring out how we fit into someone else’s life?

4. How can I tell if someone is looking out for their best interest or mine?

5. Which is more valuable: experience or knowledge?

6. When two men fight, who’s right? and when two women fight, who’s right?

7. Is there an objective standard of truth independent of observer bias which determines who’s right in these cases; if not… why not; if so…what is it; how does one determine which source (e.g., person) is more reliable than another (e.g., person)?

8. Is there something out there watching over us, protecting us?

9. Is there a higher power in control of our destiny?

10. What’s more precious: time or money?

11. Are we here by chance, or are we part of a greater plan orchestrated by some powerful force beyond our comprehension?

12. Why are things set up like they are in life…like love, relationships with family/friends/colleagues etc.?

13. Does anyone actually see into someone else’s heart and know what they’re thinking?

14. Are there any human behaviors that can truly never be explained away as being anything other than completely reprehensible actions born out of selfishness alone?

15. Do I tend to criticize more than praise?

1. Does love triumph over fear in the end, or are these two co-dependent forces with a symbiotic relationship?

2. Is it possible that some things happen for a reason?

3. Why can’t we live every day like it’s our last?

4. How often do I appreciate what I have?

5. Is there a difference between living by instinct and living by faith?

6. The human mind is very powerful—but just how powerful is it really, compared with other forces around us, both natural and man-made?

7. Is there a difference between knowing something intellectually, believing something emotionally, and living something spiritually?

8. Would an apology solve any problem ?

9. Would forgiving them solve anything ?

10. Where are we headed as a species?

11. Can one person actually make a difference in their world by changing their thought patterns , thoughts habits , words habits , feelings , actions or reactions ?

12. Is there such a thing as fate?

13. Was there a point in time when human kind collectively decided which values are right or wrong?

14. How much control do we have over our lives, our actions, our destinies…our futures?

15. Is art merely visual entertainment with no purpose other than entertaining us?

1. Why do we sometimes forgive too easily and sometimes find it difficult to forgive at all?

2. When we look back on our past experiences with friends, why is it that we don’t see ourselves in a positive light but rather as struggling through numerous issues and relationships that didn’t work out well?

3. Why don’t things ever seem to go according to plan — not just rarely but always ?

4. When are things just not meant to be no matter how hard we try?

5. Is keeping an open mind always a positive thing or can it cause problems as well?

6. Should we count our blessings more often than complain about what’s missing in our lives?

7. What have been some moments of silence worth remembering—moments where nothing was said yet much was felt by both parties involved?

8. Why do I remember things differently than others who may have shared an experience with me?

9. Is love stronger than hate?

10. Should things happen by chance; are some events pre-destined; are some events out of our control; can we do little about them; should we accept them as a part of human nature whether we like them or not; how much control should we exert over our lives or those around us?

11. Do I know what love truly means?

12. When will humanity figure out peace before Earth’s resources run out completely?

13. How long can society endure when there are so many negative aspects perpetuated by human nature, i.e., jealousy, greed, etc.?

14. Can one man/woman truly change society in a positive way just by speaking out about injustices?

15. Does everyone have something unique to offer or should we all just fit into society’s cookie-cutter image of what normal looks like?

1. If you won the lottery, what would you do with your winnings?

2. What is your favorite childhood memory?

3. What is something you have always wanted to do but have never done?

4. If you were stranded on a desert island, what are three things that you couldn’t live without?

5. When was the last time you cried?

6. What is your idea of a perfect vacation?

7. What is the one thing about yourself that you hate the most?

8. What is your biggest pet peeve?

9. Do you believe in soul mates or fate?

10. Do you believe in second chances and if so, how many times should a second chance be given to someone who has hurt you or disappointed you?

11. If money wasn’t an object, where would you go on vacation and why?

12. Who was your first celebrity crush and why did they catch your eye at that time of your life?

13. What is something that embarrasses you today but didn’t bother you ten years ago?

14. Is there anything in life that makes it worth getting up each morning and facing the day ahead of you everyday?

1.If you could make one rule that everyone had to follow, what rule would you make?

2.What is the silliest thing you have an emotional attachment to?

3. Would you rather go into the past and meet your ancestors or go into the future and meet your great-great grandchildren?

4. What is the oddest noise you have ever heard?

5. Have you ever clogged a public toilet?

6. What was the most ridiculous clothing trend when you were in school?

7. If you could be an Olympic athlete for one day, what sport would you choose and why?

8. How many people does it take to change a light bulb?

9. Do you think some people are born weird or do they become weird?

10.What is the grossest thing that has made its way into your mouth accidentally?

11.What is something that makes people look like fools that most people do anyway?

12.When did a coincidence happen so perfectly that it seemed like fate or karma at work?

13.What is the funniest pun that you know of?

14.Did any particular event start your habit of collecting things (or not collecting)? What is it about this item that makes

1. Is there a difference between having fun and being happy?

2. Are things going well even though I feel bad inside?

3. Does time heal all wounds?

4. Why are some things easier to remember than others?

5. Are we like puzzle pieces—pre-designed to fit together perfectly with other certain puzzle pieces, but ill-suited for other combinations; or are we not like puzzles pieces at all; but rather blank canvases waiting to be filled in by our experiences and environment?

6. When can I say no without feeling guilty about it later on down the road (because saying no isn’t easy)?

7. Is there any room left inside of me for improvement as a person?

8. What are human beings’ greatest weaknesses?

9. Is there any meaning to life other than continuing to exist?

10. Does free will exist, or are we destined by fate?

11. Would things have been better if Hitler hadn’t been defeated in World War II?

1. Is there a difference between happiness and contentment?

2. Is it true we sometimes hurt those we love most because our actions come from a positive place?

3. Which personality traits or beliefs do I hold onto that no longer serve me well as an adult (or even as a teenager)?

4. Why do animals feel pain, but not guilt or shame?

5. Is it possible to put a price tag on self-worth?

6. In order to have real peace, must one have inner peace first?

7. Which comes first: happiness or success—and which one helps create more of the other one over time?

8. Does love hold us back sometimes instead of helping us grow and move forward in our lives and relationships with others (both personal and professional)?

9. Should I strive to be unique or should I conform?

10. Is one person smarter than another because he has more information about specific areas but not other areas?

11. How can we understand someone who thinks differently than us?

12. Is there such a thing as total forgiveness?

1. Who are we without our secrets, doubts, and fears?

2. Does tolerance just mean accepting bad behavior instead of standing up against it?

3. What will happen if an unstoppable force meets an immovable object (me)?

4. Was there an inevitable path that led me here (I was meant to suffer)?

5. Is there more to life than we can perceive through our senses?

6. Do we each have just one opportunity for happiness in our lives, and if we miss it will we never be happy again?

7. Is there an afterlife: Heaven and Hell and lots of angels and demons running around up there playing their games with us poor humans down here below who don’t know what’s going on up above because those things are invisible to us but our fate is determined by them anyway without any input from us as far as what happens after death?

8. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?

9. If you could travel back in time in order to change one thing, what would it be?

10. What do you want to achieve at work before leaving for home?

11. What is your biggest regret in life?

12. Are you more of a morning person or a night owl?

13. Where do you see yourself living when you’re older?

14. What is the most interesting fact about you?

1. Why are some things beautiful while others are not?

2. Who will care about us after we’re gone, long after our hair has turned gray, wrinkles have formed around our eyes and our bodies start to slowly wither away?

3. Does every person truly deserve a second chance after screwing up their lives with drugs or any other kind of addiction?

4. Would life be better without stress?

5. Why can’t anything stay simple anymore?

6. Who has more value: a successful person who used questionable means to reach their goals, or someone who tried over and over again but was never successful because they didn’t have what it takes to succeed?

7. Is everyone out to get me?

8. Does anyone want what’s best for me?

1. Why do we even exist anyway?

2. Who was here first: The chicken or the egg?

3. Are we only having fun because we expect something in return (or someone else expects us to have fun)?

4. Do great things really come from hard work and sacrifice, like they say it does?

5. Is a person a product of his/her surroundings, actions and history, his/her genetics or something else entirely?

6. Does he/she know more than she’s telling me?

7. Is there anyone who knows more than I do about what is going on inside me right now?

8. Why should we care about tomorrow instead of just enjoying today like everyone else seems to be doing?

9. If opportunity knocked, would there be anyone home to answer the door?

1. If you could be a fictional character, who would you choose?

2. What’s the most embarrassing movie you’ve watched?

3. What is the most bizarre thing you believe in?

4. Who do you think is the hottest celebrity?

5. Which is your favorite TV show?

6. What’s your favorite app on your phone?

7. What’s the funniest dream you’ve ever had?

8. If you won a million dollars, what would you do with it?

9. If someone made a movie of your life would it be a drama, a comedy, a romantic-comedy, action film, or science fiction?

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

11. Have you ever heard of something so crazy that it gave you goose bumps?

12. Would you like to live on any other planet apart from earth and why?

13. What if money were no issue, but there were only three places in the world that you could live for the rest of your life, what places would you pick and why?

14. Do you know about any unsolved mysteries that still haunt people around the world today?

1.What would you do if your current partner told you they loved someone else?

2.What is your favorite love song?

3.What is the most important lesson you have learned in a relationship?

4.What was the best thing about your first relationship?

5.How do you know when it’s time to end a relationship?

6.How would you feel if someone said “I love you” too soon?

7.How would you feel if someone broke up with you after being together for a long time?

8.What was your very first impression of your current partner?

9.Do any songs remind you of a relationship past or present?

10.Do you think people can change for the better, and how so?

11.Why do some relationships last decades while others only last months?

12.If they wrote a song or poem about you, what kind of music/poem would it be and why?

13.What is one thing that makes a man attractive to you? What about a woman makes her attractive to you?

14.Have you ever been in love with more than one person at once (not simultaneously)? How did that work out for you and why didn’t it

15. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?

16. Have you ever had a dream come true?

17. What is your favourite TV series of all time?

1. What are some things that motivate me enough that I’m willing to change what’s not working about them?

2. What role does our environment play in shaping who we are as individuals—and also as professionals?

3. If not, why not—and more importantly, what can I do about it right now?

4. Why don’t things go as planned?

5. Is there a wrong way to do things?

6. Do we choose our path in life, or is it chosen for us?

7. Should money buy happiness?

8. What is love, anyway?

9. Are there really three genders: male, female and transgender/transsexual/transvestite/genderqueer/non-binary/others.?

10. What kind of legacy do I want to leave behind after I’m gone?

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mckinlily · 3 years

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So apparently in older versions of Voltron (don’t take my word for is, I’ve only heard secondhand and I can’t be bothered to research), the Lions came from another reality and were cast out for arrogance or something. But ignoring my clear lack source checking, I’ve always found the idea interesting.

The Lions were originally one 5-part inter-reality being that got kicked out and forced into a mortal form in a single reality. It explains some things, like how they’re overpowered, why they seem to operate on different rules from every other ship in canon, why Zarkon couldn’t just make another Voltron or Black Lion. They prompted Alfor to sculpt them into forms they found most familiar, but there was another curse that came with their physical forms: they could only act when bonded with a mortal in their new reality.

The first time, they chose the best. Kings and rulers, people with power and influence that fit the Lions’ sense of previous grandeur. The Lions were immortal beings with abilities beyond any mortal’s imagination. Surely only the most accomplished, the most competent could handle them.

So they chose the original paladins. Alfor, Trigel, Blaytz, Gyrgan. Zarkon. Great leaders who had the respect and admiration of billions. Surely these would make the greatest paladins.

And they did. For a time. But slowly, and then all at once, they fell apart. The Lions may be separate, but they were One. Voltron. They were meant to work together.

But somehow, the paladins didn’t get that. They separated the Lions for months, whole years at a time, attending to their separate duties and personal interests. They no longer worked as a unit, and worse they began treating the Lions as tools, ships to be picked up or locked away as it suited them.

But the Lions were bonded, and in these mortals they had discovered new kind of being, one that connected them to the mortal world in a way they simply couldn’t let got of anymore. They were...blinded by their bonds to the paladins.

Until they couldn’t be blind anymore. Until Black was forced to turn on her pride, her soul, and. She. Couldn’t. Stop. It.

Voltron shattered that day. The betrayal ran deep. Among all the Lions (how could their paladins turn them against each other?!), but especially in Black who never seemed the same after that.

They became weak, broken even, when they had never been so much as damaged before, and separated to be hidden from the paladin who had once lead them. And so they stayed, for ten thousand years.

The first time, the Lions chose the paladins who matched their strengths.

The second time, they chose those who match their weaknesses.

The new paladins are young, uncertain. They’re scared and isolated and lonely and longing for connection. They have none of the grander of the previous paladins; the planet the could from is practically primitive and quaint. There is strength inside of them, potential of the paladins they could be, but it’s buried under insecurities and trauma and the bumbling misdirection of youth.

But they bond. Faster and stronger than the original paladins ever did. They ask questions, learn from the Lions. Their minds spark with new ideas and with hope that is as potent as it is irrational.

And, most importantly, they are Pride. The Black Paladin is the leader, who claimed all of them with an immediate “Mine mine mine mine”, a mantra of love and protection. And the others get swept up, adding and growing it. There is a new element, one that was never part of Voltron before.

Loyalty.

One that’s born out of love, empathy, sheer determination. A pattern that is millennia deep in a species that has never stepped foot outside of its own galaxy. Something that these five in particular seem particularly strong in. Even the Black Paladin.

Especially the Black Paladin.

A new Voltron rises. The Lions teach their new paladins about flight and power and the ways to bend their reality in only ways a Lion of Voltron can.

The paladins in turn, teach the Lions what it means to be family.

They do not know it yet, but this new Voltron is going to be so very different, and so very much more powerful, than the one that came before.

Powerful enough, in fact, to free the universe.

#vld #voltron lions #voltron paladins #as usual I blur the line between fic and meta with utter abandon #mckinlily writes: vld fic

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junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

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❦ boys & girls try to pretend | p.sh

❦ genre: park sunghoon x reader, fluff, semi-angsty?

❦ warnings: none (if there are any warnings I missed in relation to this post please let me know!)

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

❦ note: this was inspired by “boys & girls” by James TW, some lyrics were changed to fit the narrative of the story

As 7-year-old you looked at 7-year-old Park Sunghoon skating in the ice rink, there was a sort of air about him that had you curious about the boy. As most 7-years-old, the two of you were just gaining a recent awareness of what it meant to live life. Park Sunghoon knew the minute he stepped onto the ice that ice skating was his everything. He loved the thrill of it, the cold air, but most of all the freedom it provided. Over some hot chocolate, once he finally left the rink, the two of you got to talking which led to your parents exchanging numbers. Sunghoon wasn’t a talkative boy most of the time but his parents noted how he made an effort to talk to you.

You later found out that the two of you attended the same primary school but were in different classes. You found out one lunch at recess when you noticed some guys in the 3rd grade crowding over someone. Curiosity got the better of you and you wanted to see what was happening only to find out that the boy you drank hot chocolate with a few days prior was getting bullied. You stood up for Sunghoon, telling the bullies to “fudge off!” despite the slight fear you felt, the bullies left the two of you alone. The two of you spent the remaining few minutes of lunch together, bonding over a penguin plushie your aunt bought you as a gift.

It didn’t take long before the two of you became friends, a concept you’ve heard of but neither of you truly experienced until each other. The next year of school, the two of you were in the same class. Not only were you in the same class, but you hung out with each other outside of school, mostly at the ice skating rink where the two of you truly noticed each other. Some days you joined him in skating but for the most part, you preferred to watch, a habit that would continue in later years to come.

When you turned double digits, things started changing. You’d be entering middle school soon with more classes and newer people. One Saturday, Sunghoon was at your house and the two of you were having a Disney movie marathon. The scene of the Sleeping Beauty kissing scene appeared on the screen,

“Mama said that people only kiss when they love each other,” you found yourself saying as you glanced over to Sunghoon. You knew love in the form of warm breakfast and being tucked into a blanket but not yet in form of the scene where Flynn Ryder and Rapunzel were surrounded by lanterns on a canoe. Sunghoon looked at you,

“Do you love me?” he asked. He wanted to know your answer for some odd reason despite not knowing the weight of the question. With you, the feeling you gave him was something similar to the one he felt while on the ice but somehow different? You nodded,

“Mama said to love everyone.” Neither of you knew exactly what happened at that moment when Sunghoon made his way to you, your lips brushing for a second, no more, no less. Your first kiss was etched into the history of the world, one of billions of events that occurred that day in that very moment. The kiss wasn’t mentioned nor talked about after that day but the two of you were gaining an awareness of what it meant to be boys and girls.

“You’d talk about a certain boy

And he’d give you his advice

While you’d tell him what to say to all of the girls he ‘liked’”

At 13-years-old, things started changing between the two of you. You were given the talk about puberty with a new awareness of the “birds and bees.” Your group of friends increased, often teasing you and Sunghoon but neither of you paid any mind to it. Feelings of conflict often filled you when you noticing the differences in Sunghoon. The way he was taller, his hair styled differently, and the difference in the atmosphere when he got close to you. The things he did for you were done so in silence but were still actions that you noticed like how he’d give you your favorite bag of chips during lunch or how he waited by your locker to walk home with you. Despite realizing that you had a semi crush on Sunghoon, you were started to have feelings for a boy in your English class, one named Jaeyun. With no other person to ask, you’d talk about it with Sunghoon, often failing to notice the way his jaw clenched slightly or how his gaze grew colder. As a rebuttal, he talked about a girl in his English class and you’d give him pointers on how to talk to her despite the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You and Sunghoon had English class together but you didn’t know which girl he liked and you found yourself not wanting to know.

“As he watched you get close to him

He knew it was serious

Something inside lit up a fire

Can’t help if something’s changed”

You and Sunghoon as a pair started including Jaeyun somewhere down the line. Sunghoon found something else he wanted to do apart from ice skating which no one ever thought possible. He first asked you about it, preferring your opinion over any one else’s and while you were scared of losing your best friend you knew that this was something that’d make him happy. So, you told him to go for his dreams of becoming an idol. On the days that you and Sunghoon weren’t together, Jaeyun was there for you which lead to the two of you getting closer. One night, a rare event happened. Sunghoon’s practice ended early and the two of you headed to the ice skating rink. You decided to skate with him today, wanting to have his presence near you rather than watching from afar.

“You and Jaeyun,” you heard him say in a low voice as you skated. Your hands were linked, an action that was something you were used to with how long you’ve known each other that you didn’t think much of it.

“What about Jae?”

“Are you two… together?” Unsure as to what he was truly trying to ask,

“We went to the festival together yesterday.” The festival was one Sunghoon was supposed to attend with you but couldn’t.

“Just the two of you?”

“Well yeah, since you weren’t there,” you answered. Sunghoon said nothing and you accepted his silence. He was so deep into his thoughts that he ended up tripping over his skates and falling. Because the two of you were holding hands, you were accidentally brought down with him. As the feeling of falling came over you, you waited for the impact of ice on your body but it never felt. Sunghoon let out a slight hiss of pain as you opened your eyes and saw that you were on top of him, his arms wrapped around you to protect you from the ground. His eyes settled on you with an emotion you couldn’t decipher,

“You ok?” he asked. There was something about how the two of you were settled within this moment, the close proximity of your faces, the cold temperature of the ice that caused it to turn a few degrees higher due to the newfound body heat you were sharing, and the way his arms felt so natural around you. A shift in your relationship occurred in this moment and while you both knew it, neither made the effort to acknowledge it.

“We had so much to lose

But I kissed you anyway”

In the following weeks, you started drawing lines between you and Jaeyun. He didn’t exactly notice that you had a crush on him in the first place with how outgoing he was to everyone, but Sunghoon did notice. However, you drew lines with Sunghoon too as you saw how passionate he was with the dream of becoming an idol. Making an effort to state that you two were just friends despite how much you wanted to be more, Sunghoon allowed himself to stay behind the lines you drew out fear of ruining the foundations the two of you built your life upon. Weeks turned to months which turned to years and before either of you knew what was happening, Sunghoon’s dream of becoming an idol was within his reach. You cheered for him on i-land, and cheered for ENHYPEN when the members were announced. Due to Sunghoon’s newfound busy schedule and the responsibilities of life pressing on you, your video calls that sometimes lasted an entire day shifted to regular calls that decreased in time which turned to mere texts that became inconsistent. Constantly, you found reminders of each other whether it be when you saw a penguin plushy or were drinking a cup of hot chocolate. It didn’t take long before an entire year passed since you last talked to each other. Then, at 3 in the morning, Sunghoon showed up in front of your doorstep.

“Sunghoon?” you asked despite it clearly being him.

“Can I come in?” For the first time in both of your lives, the silence was something you didn’t know what to do or say. Until finally, you took his hand and brought him inside. Sunghoon was gaining popularity and you didn’t want a box of mangoes being delivered to your doorstep anytime soon. His height towered over yours as you got a good look at the boy you missed more than you cared to admit. As his eyes settled into yours, his hand pulling you closer his arms wrapped around you.

“I missed you, y/n,” he whispered. There was a gentleness only owned by Park Sunghoon when he lifted up your chin so that you were looking at him. Then, he tilted his head slightly.

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought your hand up to his neck. The closeness of your bodies like the time in the ice skating rink where you fell on each other but here the process of falling for each other was truly starting to take effect. Kissing Park Sunghoon now, the two of you were boys and girls trying to pretend you didn’t have any feelings for each other. The only thing was that now you were no longer boys and girls like you used to be. And now, you were no longer pretending.

|❦ end of story, written by riri| |blog master list|

more fics: (the fics linked below are all fluff but the master list has angst)

|warm mornings (jungwon, written by junko)| |you, jake, and layla (jake, written by riri)| |storms & ghosts (jay, written by riri)|

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youranxiousnerd · 3 years

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Showtime Thoughts

bc i am in love with julia lester

spoilers below

First off, why is this episode so short?

ngl i forgot mazzara was a regular

ricky ded besties

awww nina and the letters

she looks very good in her dress

ashlyn and ricky look so good

“We’re screwed!”

ash and ricky are too funny like where were they this season?

chaotic and pretty best friends

sidenote, why did they go see north high’s production?

oh my god ricky and nina are talking

SEBLOS IN THE BACKGROUND

i am taking what i can get

RICKYS FACE WITH THE CARD!!!!!!!!

my favorite part of the episode

his makeup looks very good

he looks very good

as @organic-guacamole said, he is very pretty

its been like three minutes and it already is so chaotic

yessss kourtney’s mom!!!

so howie and kourt are fine? gah since when?

“look for the shortest fork” mood

I CANNOT TAKE EJ SERIOUSLY HE LOOKS LIKE AN ANGRY BIRD

big bird ej comin at you

PORTWELL DATE

wait isnt this ejs last show? is he going to miss his last afterparty for a date?

true love bitches

GINA MY LOVE

“Is he with us?”

NORTH HIGH SET OUR BEST BOI ANTOINE ON FIRE APS GET READY

seb being a supportive boyfriend is everything i needed

jenny is frazzled

i love how all the techie turned actors are nervous at some point during the episode

REDLYN CONTENT

awww thats so cute love the callback!!!

ooo howie is here

love how the writers leave a cliffhanger and then close the book before it turns to tragedy with one line

mazzara and ej, thats it

jenn what

why is mike there?

that was so unnecessary like aren’t mike and jenn over?

LILY

“did we forget to build a moat around the school”

let ricky be single challenge

she just said “lol” i cant

props to ricky for keeping calm during the show after he saw mike and jenn

ah so lily is a child of divorce?

“lily scram”

RICKY AFTER THE CURTAIN OPENS WHY IS THIS FUNNY

STOP MAZZARA IS THE VOICE OVER

HE SOUNDS REALLY GOOD

how did ricky do that so fast-

put on gloves over the cast, makeup, and a mask?

i dont work with costumes

AMERICA EXPLAIN

The one scene we get from the show...

Yay Steph!!!!

“Big Red has not thrown up in twenty minutes” ashlyn’s little smile

“she heard wrong”

someone please explain how spotlighting the judge is a good idea it makes it seem like things went wrong

“Carlos is a seasoned professional” honey carlos is on the verge of a mental breakdown

“He says help

Communication

Seb translating for Carlos is beautiful dramatic, yes, but im right.

im so proud of them. they go from not talking for a week to seb being able to tell how carlos is feeling based off a stoic expression.

SOULMATE SHIT

IM SORRY NO BOP TO THE TOP CALLBACK

LIKE NONE

WHO WANTS TO RIOT WITH ME?!?!

wait so carlos goes from on the verge of a mental breakdown to full on performing and speaking?!?!?!? Speaking well too, not stumbling.

he looks so comfortable on stage when not even ten minutes ago he looked like he was going to vomit?

h e l p

ashlyn’s little laugh!

NINI IS A FORK IM LAUGHING THIS IS GREAT

big red lookin’ at his girl

ricky what are you doing?

ASHLYN AND GINA

I QUIT THEY’RE ADORABLE

GET IT KOURTNEY

howie’s little mouth drop

i cant with sebs costume i should not be laughing how is he able to do a kick line

ASHLYN MY LOVE

be our guest was enjoyable. it had a lot of moving parts. frankie and dara sounded really good. it’ll probably grow on me the more i listen to it.

is it just me or did be our guest lack some energy?

NATIALIE IS SO AGGRESSIVE

awww gina bb

portwell!!

“my mom sent me jordan fisher”

big red and ricky!!!

...what is big red doing? has he been faking sick?

“PLEASE EVERYONE REMAIN IN THE SAME ROLE YOU STARTED IN”

BEST LINE OF THE SEASON OMFG

alright what the hell is up with howie?!?

kourtney is so excited and then downer howie comes to ruin it

nina just write “thanks for being the best bro and glad youre not dead”

btw kourtney and gina look really good in their costumes

ASHLYN!!!!

SHES SO PRETTY THANK YOU

redlyn!!

gina and jamie!!!

he looks so proud

glad gina gets to see her family!

cute scene, jordan is a nice addition!

RICKY AND THE BOWL

julia lester is killing it with the vocals

big red is so in love

seb bouncing in the costume

“she’s never looked at me that way before” evil smirk

PORTWELL GLANCES

my heart fricking stopped when carlos went on stage

being early on your cue/missing is awful would highly not recommend

a bop to the top callback after this would have been perfect

those harmonies!!

THEYRE SO IN LOVE

ummm phone call?

CHIPS BIG SCENE

...why wasn’t seb cogsworth?

alright that was really good. everyone (even the backup) sounded really good. portwell rights! ashlyn rights! kowie rights! acting rights!

so mazzara and jamie?

Ashlyn is the perfect Belle fight me

“Eat it Zackey Roy!” how about “yay kiddos, nice job!”

ej’s little dance

“bc you’re ginas brother”

he is enamored by her it is adorable

EJ CASWELL RIGHTS

“hey, jordan fisher, would you like to f up one of three stableish ships in hsmtmts?” “sure, im in!”

ej!!!

aww hopefully he doesnt take the conversation too heart. they both like each other so much.

Portwell is so enjoyable to watch.

return of the bro

ej go get your girl dont worry about her brother please

SOMEONE TOUCHED THE PROPS

all hands on deck

“Can you just jump off something high”

I seem to remember Ricky falling from something high last episode, is that correct?

She tells this to one of her most UNSTABLE kids

Oh shit

Miss. Jenn

Wtf

like what the actually hell

look at the kids faces they’re heartbroken

Miss. Jenn why. You’re stressed about the show, but you’re not performing it. They are. They have to worry about lines and cues and pitches, not you. Miss. Jenn has literally gone at the kids this season. Opening night speech too Ash and Ricky, shutting Seb down, that comment. She has become obsessed with the Menkies and North High. It has gotten really bad. These kids have put everything into this show, even their relationships (both platonic and romantic) and that is how you repay them?

I didn’t think they would address this, I lost hope after last week but I am so glad they’re going too.

Someone send Seb after Miss. Jenn please, let him rip into her, he would do very well.

Miss. Jenn is supposed to be the role model and she just told a kid to jump off something high.

nina has been a godsend this episode, props to her!

haven’t been the biggest nini fan this season (off and on for me), but she was very behaved this episode.

if there is anything the east high kids are good at, it’s bullshitting their way out.

“aim for my face” character growth

I KNEW IT

LILY WHY HOW WHEN WHY

WTF THEY END THERE I CANNOT WITH CLIFF HANGERS

I liked the episode. Didn’t love it, but liked it. I really wish we got to see more acting, like we didn’t even see Big Red and E.J go on stage. Not even the iconic yellow dress. Some of the drama is so unnecessary, like why Mike and Jenn? What is with the Kourtney and Howie drama the writers insist on having, can’t they just be happy?

Besides the whole harness incident (burn that harness and mask it is causing so many problems) the production went very well, too well. This is East High we’re talking about.

Promo thoughts because what

oo they’re sneaking, maybe Big Red’s thingy

YES ASHLYN GETTING THE LOVE SHE DESERVES

oo Kowie confession?

portwell please be okay

what is up with carlos’ hair?

so seb, miss. jenn, and carlos scene? this has the potential to be very beautiful.

“It’s not over” not this again...

i’m thinking carlos and seb are going to talk to miss jenn.

Sidenote, if we do not get a good seblos scene I will riot.

Hopefully Miss. Jenn apologizes with a billion sorrys

rini you just broke up please dont get back together

im scared

if it is a scene where they close the book i will be very happy

Are we getting a flash forward scene? I’m pretty sure Miss. Jenn said Menkies aren’t till two plus weeks after the show.

We know based off the promo pics Ej and Gina are at the cast party, what went wrong?

Wait do we not get to see the finale of the show?

We better see the goddamn transformation

how does lily home and core four song fit in? im more curious about the lily one.

In conclusion, I am not ready for this to be over and the transformation needs to be sent to hell.

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Note

Hiya! I have a request for an x reader songfic. Snap out of it by the Arctic monkeys gives me so many 2012 Donnie vibes. Maybe one where the reader is in love with Donnie but he likes April and the reader wants Donnie to, you know, "snap out of it" and notice that maybe April isn't the best person towards him. It can end in unrequited love or with a happy ending, that's for you to decide but I just really want to see this concept. Thanks! :>

(feel free to ignore this request if you want 👁️👁️)

Oh, I’m not about to turn away a chance to be pushed out into foreign territory. I admittedly hadn’t known what a songfic was until wikipedia and @kunimikat saved my ass, so this was fun-- and a bit scary-- to write. I hope you like it, even if it might not have been exactly what you were expecting.

April was your friend. She had been for a while, now, since she had moved to NYC. The two of you had come even closer after her kidnapping and initiation into the “Hamato Clusterfuck” as you had affectionately called it at first—you had wisely made a conscious effort to only get involved with them as far as you could throw them, sticking solidly to offering emotional support and half-decent food. At the beginning, you had, on multiple occasions, even begged her to stay out of it, trying to reason with her that getting herself killed by a psychotic armored man with an axe to grind for the crime of hanging out with four teenage shut-ins was an incredibly bad idea. When your logical arguments fell on deaf ears—her owing them apparently being her ball and chain—you had designated yourself as her supervisor to make sure she did not do something overly impulsive. She was reckless, overly trusting, immature, but you loved her like a sister. You balanced each other out.

One of the benefits of knowing someone for so long is that you learn things about them that they do not know about themselves. In April’s case, it had been that she was terrible at making up her mind

What's been happenin' in your world?

You had borne witness to the love triangle transpiring between Donatello Hamato, Casey Jones and her for the better part of a year now. You were relieved that the two boys had backed off each other’s throats somewhat over the period, but it was as infuriating as it was fascinating to watch them fight over her like a chew toy. Of course, April had her preference between the two, favoring the hockey player mainly for his general normalcy, which was a decision you could approve of, but she had hesitated until recently to make that obvious to the other point because, in her words, “The last thing I want is to deal with is all of that awkwardness.” You could hardly blame her for her hesitation, but you thought it almost cruel not to make her feelings apparent to her lovestruck puppy.

What have you been up to?

Donnie was the most tolerable of the five, the most normal in your opinion. He was an infatuated, insecure teenage boy with more an affinity towards machines and, best of all, seemed concerned for your friend, all things that you could get on board with. In your opinion, overbearingness is preferable to negligence in this case, and you were just happy that someone physically capable had her back. As such, when you were stuck at the lair for hours waiting for her lessons with Splinter to be over—you were her ride—you found yourself spending the most time around him, and as time went on, you started going out of your way to do so.

Seeing as April and Casey were your only other friends, it was natural you would get romantically attached. They—a couple by high school standards—approved of your crush, and all you told your guardian(s) was that they were smart, fit, and financially responsible, so they asked few questions.

You knew, logically, this was not a competition and that April had little interest in him.

But something about the way he gazed at her made you burn green with envy.

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough.

His eyes were just so… wistfully longing. He watched as the redhead and her boyfriend played against Michelangelo and Raphael in a game of charades. His expression was just so soft, lips pursing and popping silently as he grieved from his seat in his lab.

It had been a downhill spiral on your end from there, and as your own attachment grew for him, his own depression worsened. Your eyes drifted from your friend as you tried to make him see that, no, the world was not ending because his first crush did not like him back. You would make subtle comments about how happy his brothers were, how happy she and Casey were together, how smart he was and how many people would die for a kind, loving, smart guy to come around and sweep them off their feet. This, again, fell on deaf ears; he would always comment on how, if he were such a catch, April would not have chosen Casey, like It is his fault for her having more of a taste in cocky, fun-loving guys than intelligent ones. Half of it was probably your lack of experience in subtlety, but no matter what you would try to say, whenever romance came up in conversation, his words turned sharp and bitter.

On that day, you just cracked.

I gotta tell you the truth.

You walked over to the lab door, closing it in a single fluid motion. ‘I’m better at being blunt, anyways.’

He blinked; his trance was interrupted by the small slam.

“She’s not into you.”

“Huh?”

You crossed the room and placed your hand on the desk, expression stern and stone cold. “April,” you repeat. “She’s not interested.”

He did not meet your gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” You leaned down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t her type. You’re supposed to be smart.” You placed the other on the back of his chair, arms cagging him in, almost. “ She has a boyfriend,” you continued, softer. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” He tapped the side of his thumb against the table absently, throat tight. “But what else do you suppose I do? Submit to the fact that I’ll be alone forever?” He looked up at you. “I know this may be hard for you to believe,” he continued, easily slipping out from under your arms, “but I don’t exactly have a ton of options. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that; how am I supposed to move on from the only person who’s ever even given me a chance?”

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby.

You rolled your eyes, turning to watch him as he crossed to the other side of the room. “That is some blatant bullshit,” you glared curtly.

“Is it, though?” His back was to you as he crouched down in front of his centrifuge, fiddling with it. “As someone who’s never—”

“So help me, if you go off about me not understanding being rejected and feeling like they’d die alone, I’ll rip your tongue out.” You stood back up properly.

“What would you know about it?” He followed suit, eyes locking on yours. “You have other people to choose from.”

“And you don’t?” You crossed your arms, smiling incredulously. “How do we differ, exactly?”

“Besides the obvious?”

You scoffed. “You’ve seen your brothers. Never stopped them.”

“And I’m happy for them, that they’re so charismatic as to be able to find partners so easily.” You could taste the bitterness in his words. “But I’m not them, in case you didn’t notice. That girl out there?” He pointed to the door. “She’s the first and only person in the universe who’s ever given me a second glance.”

“So you’re just fucking blind, now?” You heard your voice rise without your input.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice grew with yours.

“You’re lovesick,” you spat. “Snap out of it.”

Snap out of it.

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Or maybe you’re just dense.” You felt a laugh rise in your throat. “I mean,” you gestured, “clearly picking up on verbal subtext isn’t your forte.”

You gave him five seconds. “What,” you continued, rubbing your face with your hands, “Are you—” You stopped. “You are, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

You took a slow breath, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Let me put it in simple, plain English for you.”

I get the feelin' I left it too late, but baby—

“As her friend? You’re a fucking creep.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Following her the way you did—wait your turn—” A finger interrupted his defense. “Following her the way you did? Objectively creepy. Staring at her all the time? Also fucking creepy.” You felt your nails dig into your skin. “Any person would call it as it is.”

He opened his mouth again to argue. You did not interrupt him this time, but he did not argue, the silence falling like a weighted blanket over the two of you.

“As your friend,” you continued, voice lowered, “as someone who cares about you, I know April, and she can’t give you what you want. It’s not her; she needs to be free, and I love her, but you’re looking for something that’s just not there.” Your voice was certain. “You’re looking for someone to spend your life with. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Snap out of it.

He was still for a moment, looking off into the ether. He nodded, face melancholy.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “I’m not saying it’s stupid of you to not be over her. Again, I love her to bits, so I see the appeal.” You broke eye contact, trying to articulate exactly what you meant. “But I’m worried,�� you explained slowly, “you’re only hung up on her because you’re scared of being alone. That’s not fair to her or yourself.”

“Do you know that?”

“No,” you admitted easily, “but you and I are the same way, and trust me, I’ve been around the heartbreak block.” You smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

That earned a chuckle. A small one, but a chuckle none the less.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hand. “There are seven billion people on this planet. Any one of them—myself included—would be lucky to have a life with you.”

If that watch don’t continue to swing—

A pause.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

You nodded, your thumb running along the line of his eye socket. “I do.”

—or the fat lady fancies havin' a sing—

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his cheek gently.

—I'll be here, waitin' ever so patiently—

“Y/N!” You pulled back as you heard April calling your name. “We need a moderator!”

You started back towards the door, waving gently. “I wish you good tidings, Donatello.” You smiled quietly, serenity itself standing in the doorway. “May whoever is fortunate enough to call you their own bring you happiness. You deserve it.” You slipped out of his lab, running over to break them up.

Donatello rested his fingers on where your mouth had lit his skin. He felt a bittersweet smile fade onto his face.

—for you to snap out of it.

And that was when it began.

List of Works

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sytco · 3 years

Text

common blessings [joochan]

pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader

word count: 3.5k (!)

requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"

dedicated to @sahiflowers.

a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!

In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.

wonderboy.

Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.

Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.

“Missed me?”

You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.

“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.

You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”

It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.

“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”

From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.

Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”

You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”

“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.

“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”

And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.

Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.

“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”

Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.

“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.

“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”

You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”

Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”

You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.

“Of course.”

fm.

There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.

Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.

“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”

You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.

“Did you eat?”

Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.

You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”

“And just to see me, right?”

You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.

“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”

Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”

“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.

“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.

“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.

“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”

Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.

“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.

“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”

“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”

“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”

“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”

“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”

“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”

“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”

A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”

You blink down at Joochan. “What?”

“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"

“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.

“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”

Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.

“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.

enchanted.

You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”

And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)

“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.

You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”

“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.

“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.

And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.

“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.

“Who else?”

He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."

Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.

“But your violin”- you begin protesting.

“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”

“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.

Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.

The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.

“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.

“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.

The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.

There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.

“Joochan,” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”

Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”

“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.

“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”

Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.

“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.

“Why do you think we might not be okay?”

You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”

It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”

He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.

“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”

You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.

“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”

Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.

“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.

For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.

up, up and away.

There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.

So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.

The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.

“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”

You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.

It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.

if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!

#SCREAMS IT'S FINALLY DONE WITH I'M FINALLY FINISHED #golden child #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #hong joochan #golden child hong joochan #golden child joochan #joochan #ju writes #gncd #golcha #im now off to go cry. or nap. both

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greymantledlady · 3 years

Text

you are my sweetest downfall

Adam squeezes Michael’s hands again, reassuring. 'Remember – back down there – how we agreed to talk to each other if anything bothered us? This is like that, okay?’

Michael looks stricken. ‘Oh,’ he says in a small voice. ‘Oh. I didn’t – it really isn’t anything worth your time – ’

My second fic for @midamweek! People seemed to really enjoy Adam calling Michael 'sweetheart' in the previous fic in this verse, so I decided to expand on it. Michael is a dork, honestly.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

Having an archangel as your boyfriend is really good, actually. Better than good.

Adam, in all his years of (largely) calm and resigned pining in the Cage, had never actually, truly believed he had a chance of anything like this with Michael, anything so soft and domestic and - well, astonishingly, normal, really. It still hits him sometimes, that warm rush of astounded happiness when Michael can't stop looking hopefully down at his lips until Adam simply has to press in close and kiss him, when Michael flushes at Adam making the mildest and most low-hanging of innuendos, when Michael asks him what would be the best gift to give Adam for St Valentine's Day.

The last incident had occurred in July, because Michael had thought Adam would probably forget all about the conversation by the time February rolled around, and he had been so endearingly pleased with himself over this plan that Adam had started laughing and pulled him down onto the couch by the fire and kissed and sucked all the way down his neck until it bruised.

Given that Michael was at the time a metaphysical projection of grace shaped into a copy of Adam's own body and existing in a dimension faintly to the left of the mortal plane, it probably didn't actually need to have bruised, but Michael had warmed extremely quickly to the concept of hickeys, apparently. He likes them a lot, likes to keep them and nurse them and admire them in the mirror when he thinks Adam's not looking, and Adam thinks it's kind of the best thing ever.

Right now, though, Adam's a little worried.

Michael has been - off - for a little while now. Not worryingly so - nothing like the shaking bouts of grief that Adam had held him through when he'd first gotten back, when he'd been mourning the asshole father who'd never loved or deserved him. Nothing like that, it's just - a sort of odd wistfulness that seems to fall over him sometimes, at the strangest of moments, and Adam is determined to work out what’s causing it.

***

They're in bed, Adam happily boneless and tired out and curled around Michael, stroking his hair while Michael smooths his hand up and down Adam's back in the firm way that Adam likes, his grace-formed body firmly anchored to the physical world this time, as warm and solid as Adam's own. Adam nuzzles his cheek affectionately, smiling against his skin when Michael hums with contentment.

'Hey,' he says quietly, squinting a little to focus on Michael's face.

'Adam,' Michael says, just as soft. He looks hopeful for a moment, as though he's waiting for something. Adam's not quite sure what it is. He traces his thumb gently over Michael's collarbone, waiting to see if he'll come out with it, but eventually Michael just sighs quietly and turns his face to press it into Adam's hair.

***

Adam, before he’d been killed and resurrected, had enjoyed baking.

Of course, that had been more than a thousand years ago, but – well, time was weird that way, when it came to being trapped in an archangel cage in Hell. It wasn't that he'd forgotten any of it, of course, and he valued those memories, the way Michael had softened, increment by increment, until somewhere along the line he'd become someone Adam couldn't live without.

It was just that, once they'd gotten out, the memories seemed condensed, so that you weren't sure at all if it had been ten years or a thousand. Adam wondered sometimes whether that was what Michael's billions of years of existence must feel like to him, too.

Anyway, he'd liked to bake. When he'd come back, after the first long pain-filled months of negotiating with the Winchesters to bring Michael back too, and after the first whirlwind of joy of finding out Michael wanted him the same way, he'd started again, searching up recipes online on his phone and writing them out in a notebook if they turned out successfully.

Today, he’s craving choc chip cookies, so he looks at the pantry and pulls out flour and sugar and chocolate chips, opening the packet immediately to sneak a few to nibble on as he starts to measure everything out. They need a medium-sized mixing bowl; he needs to put that on the list for the next time they go grocery shopping. The big one is fine for today, though.

‘What are you doing?’ Michael asks, coming up behind him. He touches Adam’s elbow with a soft hand as he passes, leaning on the counter to watch.

‘Baking!’ Adam says. He bumps his hip gently against Michael’s. ‘I’m making choc chip cookies.’

Michael shifts a little closer so they can stay connected, and leans over to inspect the ingredients, poking a finger into the well of flour Adam has measured out, leaving a little dent. He’s always been surprisingly tactile, liking to touch new things, test them on his fingers.

‘Don’t eat that,’ Adam warns. ‘It tastes awful raw. Choc chips are better, here.’ He picks out a single chip – no need to overwhelm Michael’s still-developing sense of taste – and says, with a grin, ‘Open your mouth.’

Michael raises an eyebrow, looking at him, soft-eyed and so in love that it makes Adam’s heart pulse with warmth. ‘Okay, kid,’ he says, and opens up.

Adam puts down his spoon, buzzing with affection, and presses closer, leaning up against Michael’s chest and delighting in the way Michael’s arms come up to circle his waist. ‘Hey,’ he murmurs, up close, and runs his thumb along Michael’s parted lips, just to tease him a little.

Michael sighs, soft, bending forward, only to be foiled by Adam’s hand. ‘Choc chip,’ Adam reminds him, and pops it in.

‘Mm,’ Michael says, nibbling. He looks so surprised at the small burst of sweetness that Adam grins again.

‘Good, yeah?’ he says. ‘Do you want another one?’

Michael licks his lips. ‘It was good,’ he says. ‘I don’t want another one, though.’ His eyes dip downwards, his hand stroking a hopeful little circle on Adam’s back.

‘I can’t imagine what you do want,’ Adam teases. He snuggles himself a little more firmly against Michael, runs his hands down his sides and around to fit into his back pockets, enjoying the way Michael shivers. ‘Oh, get over here.’

‘I am here,’ Michael says, but then Adam kisses him, slow and sweet, smiling against his lips before pulling back. ‘Oh,’ he says softly. ‘Adam.’

‘Michael,’ Adam says, just as softly, and leaves another tiny kiss at the corner of Michael’s mouth, the moment drawing out soft and gentle; the kind of moment that you could live in forever. Michael’s eyes are soft and hazy, leaning into him, and Adam reaches up to run his knuckles over his cheek.

Michael exhales, and strokes his hands gently across Adam’s back, watching him closely. He has that odd, hidden wistfulness in his face again, as though he’s waiting for something, and Adam wants to do something about it, wants Michael to tell him what it is so he can give it to him.

‘What is it?’ he says gently, and holds back the endearment that wants to spill out, absurdly tender. He’s pretty sure it will only make Michael more embarrassed.

Michael sighs again, very soft, and glances away. ‘No, it’s nothing,’ he says.

Adam’s pretty sure it’s not nothing, but he doesn’t press. They have all the time in the world, after all, and he has cookies to bake for them. Michael will come out with it eventually.

***

Except Michael doesn’t come out with it, and it keeps happening, and Adam is honestly starting to worry. They’ll be together, and happy, so happy – he knows Michael is happy, can feel it in the grace that’s constantly twined around his soul. They’ll be kissing, or snuggling, or making love, and it will be a perfect moment, the kind of moment that makes everything worth it, like a warm soft blanket to lose yourself in.

And then suddenly Michael will be looking all wistful, like a sad little puppy wanting a morsel, and disappointed, and Adam is beginning to really, really not like that at all.

He’s tried everything – more kisses, cuddling, even that one thing that Michael really likes during sex but gets incredibly flustered and blushy over, so Adam saves for special occasions. And Michael loves it all, he really does, Adam can feel it, but none of it manages to soothe that particular, wistful little ache in his grace.

When he was small, and he’d had a problem, or felt bad, or unhappy, or guilty, Mum had always managed to coax it out of him eventually. She would sit him on the couch and give him a glass of milk, and tell him that it was always better to talk things out, not hold them inside of you till they hurt. Bad feelings were like appendicitis, she’d say, they’d make you very sick if you left them inside.

Adam thinks Michael has the equivalent of emotional appendicitis at the moment, honestly, and he’s pretty sure he needs to do something to fix that.

***

When Adam comes to find him, Michael is sitting at their kitchen table, inspecting a small pile of rocks. Months ago, he’d read a magazine article about gemstone tumbling, and then read it again, and again, and again, until the pages were dog-eared and Adam couldn’t help but notice. So he’d gone online and bought him a little tumbling kit on Ebay, as a surprise, and Michael had been hugely and gratifyingly pleased about it. Now every time they go for a walk, he comes home with his pockets full of bits of quartz and such, and their house is filled with shiny little piles of gems, like some kind of dragon’s hoard.

(‘It reminds me of creating planets,’ he tells Adam once, softly. ‘I used to polish them until they were so beautiful and round.’)

Now, he looks up as Adam comes up behind him, leaning his head back against Adam’s stomach as Adam slides his arms over his shoulders. Adam kisses his ear. ‘Hey, you,’ he says. ‘You got a moment?’

‘Of course,’ Michael says immediately, at attention. ‘What do you need, Adam?’

‘Just you,’ Adam says, and gives his shoulders a little squeeze before pulling out the chair next to Michael’s and sitting down, swivelling towards him. Michael puts down the rock he’d been inspecting and turns to face him, the full force of his attention directed onto Adam’s face.

‘Okay,’ Adam says, and reaches out to take Michael’s hands in his own, squeezing. ‘I need to talk to you about something, Michael – oh, no, don’t look at me like that,’ he breaks off, running a comforting thumb over Michael’s knuckles. ‘It’s nothing bad.’

Michael nods, still looking rather worried.

Adam decides to get it over with. ‘Look, I’ve noticed that there’s something bothering you,’ he says gently. ‘Something that you want, that you’re not telling me. I can feel it in your grace – like last night, when we were falling asleep, and when I made cookies, and other times, too.’ He squeezes Michael’s hands again, reassuring. ‘Remember – back down there – how we agreed to talk to each other if anything bothered us? This is like that, okay?’

Michael looks stricken. ‘Oh,’ he says in a small voice. ‘Oh. I didn’t – it really isn’t anything worth your time – ’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Adam says softly, because he can’t help it, ‘of course it is, it always is – ’

And suddenly, bizarrely, Michael’s grace is going wild, elated, looping and twining, wrapping around his soul with little, soft, shuddering ripples of happiness. He looks as though he’s about one step from breaking down, swaying a little towards Adam with his eyes shiny and his lips a little unsteady.

Okay, what?

‘Okay, what?’ Adam says, and reaches out to touch his face. ‘Michael, what was that? What happened? That was it, wasn’t it?’

Michael swallows, his grace still buzzing with happiness, turning his face into Adam’s touch. ‘You said it again,’ he says, closing his eyes for a moment like he’s basking in Adam’s warmth.

‘Said what?’ Adam says – and, ‘wait, ‘sweetheart’?’ His heart feels like it’s melting. ‘That was all you wanted? For me to call you pet names?’

Michael is going pink now, avoiding his eyes. ‘You must think I’m foolish,’ he mumbles.

‘Of course I don’t,’ Adam says, overwhelmed with sheer fondness. ‘Well, maybe just a little bit, for not just telling me, honestly.’ He knuckles gently at the corner of Michael’s eye, and it actually comes away a little damp. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he says, knowing he sounds ridiculously tender, and that pulse of sheer bright happiness ripples through Michael again, through his grace.

‘It was the first thing you said,’ Michael says softly. ‘When you brought me back. My name, Michael, and – and you called me that. And I asked about it, and you kissed me and I was happy, but you never said it again. I,’ he swallows. ‘I don’t know why I. I wanted you to say it.’

‘Okay, you need to come here right now,’ Adam says, and climbs directly into his lap. He brings his hands up to hold Michael’s face, looking down at him. ‘Fuck, I love you,’ he says helplessly, and Michael’s whole face twitches, his hands coming up instinctively to fit at the small of Adam’s back.

‘I love you too,’ he says immediately, honestly. ‘Adam.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I – would like it if you said it again, please.’

‘Yeah, sweetheart, okay,’ Adam murmurs against his lips. ‘I’m never going to stop.’

#midam week #midam #michael/adam #michael spn #adam milligan #my fic #supernatural #my post

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vanillacaramelhoney · 4 years

Text

Different (9)

Pairing(s): Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: "Put. Her. Down."

Warnings: Uh, none??

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I just kinda lost motivation to write for a hot second there 🥺

Masterlist

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Repetitive noises typically annoyed people if they weren't the ones making it, but as YN laid, curled up on Five's bed as he wrote on the walls, the clacking of chalk against it was the only thing keeping her sane.

It gave her something to focus on- to keep her from thinking about Eudora's death, or the danger Diego was putting himself in, or what would happen to her younger self.

Upon seeing the traumatized girl, most people would scold Five for working on equations rather than comfort her. But Five knew her, and he knew that she needed time to process everything first. And when she was in need of comfort, he would be there- even if that meant not worrying about the apocalypse for a moment.

So, she laid on top of Five's bed, curled into herself. Five stood in front of her, writing on the wall behind her.

The writing stopped, and YN's thoughts started.

"Okay, I think I've got something." She looked up at Five at the sound of the sudden intrusion of his voice. "It's tenuous but promising."

YN watched as Luther walked into the room, confusion already present on his face.

"What is all this?" he asked.

"It's a probability map."

"Probability of what?"

"Of whose death could save the world." Five tapped on the wall. "I've narrowed it down to four."

"Are you saying one of these four people causes the apocalypse?" Luther asked.

"Their death might prevent it," YN explained for Five, her voice dull and eyes closed.

The sound of clacking came back for a moment as Luther glanced down at the girl.

"I'm not following." YN let out a hum as Five jumped into the explanation.

"Time is fickle, Luther. The slightest alteration in events can lead to massively different outcomes in the time continuum. The butterfly effect." Luther nodded. "So, all I have to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and kill them."

Five dropped off the bed to look through Vanya's book as Luther came around to the other side of the bed. He looked over the names.

"'Milton Green,'" he read. "So, who's he? A terrorist or something?"

"I believe he is a gardener." YN opened her eyes to look at Five.

"You can't be serious," Luther said. "Wait, this is madness, Five."

Whatever words were about to follow halted when Five placed a case on his bed. YN sat up in curiosity.

"Where'd you get that?"

"In Dad's room," Five answered, unzipping it. "I think he used it to shoot a rhinoceros."

He pulled it out, looking it over. "It's similar to the model I used at work. Nice shoulder fit and highly reliable."

"But you can't- this guy Milton is just an innocent man!"

"It's a little distasteful, but his death could save billions of people," YN told him. "Besides, he'd just end up dead anyway."

"We don't do this kind of thing," Luther criticized.

"We are not doing anything," Five corrected. "I am. And if YN wants to come, then she's allowed to join."

"I can't let you go and kill innocent people," Luther said. "No matter how many lives it saves."

"Well, good luck stopping me."

"You're not going anywhere."

With a shriek, YN was lifted off the bed by the back of her shirt collar. She was shoved out the window and left dangling from Luther's grip.

"Motherfucker!" she screamed, kicking in his grasp as fury filled her body.

Five was quick to spin around, aiming the gun at his brother.

"Put. Her. Down."

"Put the gun down- you're not killing anyone," Luther countered. "I know she's important to you, so don't make me do this. It's either her or the gun. You decide."

"You know, I'm pretty sure if you drop me, I'll survive," YN continued squirming, "but that doesn't mean I'm fine with this."

It was silent as the two stared back at each other, waiting for the other to move.

Using his strength, Luther tossed the girl. She let out an alarming screech.

Five dropped the rifle and jumped forward to grab onto her.

He quickly pulled her back into his room.

"I can keep doing this all day." Looking back, Luther stood with the gun in hand.

Ignoring him, Five fretted over YN, having her sit on his bed.

"I know you're still a good person, Five," Luther continued. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have risked it coming back here to save us all. But you're not on your own anymore."

Five looked up at Luther. "There is one way, but it's just about impossible."

"More impossible than what brought you back here?"

Looking back at YN, she sighed, knowing where this was going.

Pulling to the side of the road, Luther parked the car, and Five unbuckled his seat. YN sat in the back, more interested in looking out of the car windows.

With a sigh, Five spoke, "I never enjoyed it, you know."

"What?"

"The killing," he clarified. "I mean, I was good at my work, and I took pride in it, but it never gave me pleasure."

It fell silent for a while.

"You think they'll buy it?" Luther asked, laying an arm on the briefcase.

"Well, what we do know is that they're desperate. It's like a cop losing his gun. If the Commission finds out, they'll be in deep shit. Not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back."

"I should hold onto it," Luther said. Five hummed in confusion. "In case they make a move on either of you."

"Okay, Luther, but be careful," said Five. "I mean, we've lived long lives, but you're still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it."

Luther stared at his brother, confused.

"There's a car coming up," YN announced.

Sure enough, a car appeared from behind a hill on the road.

"Here we go," Five said, the three climbing out of the car. They joined each other in the middle of the road, watching the car drive past.

"You sure you want to do this?" Five whispered to YN. "I can understand if you don't. You've been through a lot."

They watched as Hazel and Cha Cha exited the car, their creepy masks covering their faces.

"I don't really have a choice," YN responded.

With a sigh, Five walked forward to meet with their tailers, YN just a step behind him.

"The masks really necessary?" Five asked.

The two pulled them off and threw them aside.

"So, where is it?" Cha Cha asked.

"Wow, that's how you're gonna start," Five sassed. "You know, we can get back in our car and call it a day."

"You won't even make it halfway there," the woman said, pulling out her gun. She pointed it at Five, and Hazel raised his to YN.

"Maybe," Five said, "but as I'm sure you found out in your previous foray, my brother is not your average giant."

"He's right," Hazel said. "You dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up."

"You hurt us, and he'll destroy your precious briefcase," YN smiled.

"Probably us, too, right?" Hazel asked. "So, how do we help each other?"

"I need you to get in contact with your superior, so we can have a chat with her," Five explained. "Face-to-face."

"About what?" Cha Cha asked.

"Why do you care?" YN asked.

The woman took a deep breath. "Just don't tell her about the briefcase."

"Fair enough."

The four parted, Cha Cha and Hazel going to a payphone, and Five and YN returning to the car and Luther.

Five settled against the car, and YN sat on the hood.

"What now?"

"Now, we wait."

YN grabbed Five's hand to fiddle with while they waited. The sound of music typical to an ice cream truck had them confused.

Five grabbed YN's hand and pulled her down to his side as they looked back.

Everyone watched in confusion as it drove down the street, music echoing.

"Is that her?" Luther asked the two beside him.

YN's eyes widened in disbelief as the truck drove by.

Klaus sat in the front seat, smiling and waving out at them. In the passenger seat was Diego.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

The truck continued, Cha Cha and Hazel raising their guns to fire at it.

Luther covered Five and YN with his body, holding his arms out.

The two watched, however, as everything came to a halt.

They peered out from behind Luther.

"What the hell?" YN muttered.

Together, they walked out from behind him to take in the scene before them.

"Neat trick, isn't it?" Turning, the Handler stood there in all her unbridled glory.

She pulled back the net veil covering her face and removed her sunglasses.

"Hello, Five, YN," she greeted. "You two look good, all things considered. And I must say, I'm very sorry for your loss, dear."

She smiled at YN, who was held back by Five from doing anything.

"Good to see you again," Five said, whispering a warning back to YN.

"Feels like we met just yesterday," the woman said. "Course, you were both a little older then. Congratulations on the age regression, by the way. Very clever. Threw us all off the scent."

"Well, I wish I could take credit," Five said. "I just miscalculated the time dilation projections and, well, you know. Here we are." He briefly held out his arms.

"You realize your efforts are futile. So, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"We want you to put a stop to this," YN told her.

"You realize what you're asking for is next to impossible, even for me," the Handler said. "What's meant to be is meant to be. That's our raison d'etre."

YN rolled her eyes, looking off to the side, and Five pulled a gun.

"Yeah? Well, how about survival as a raison?" Five gave a mocking smile.

"I'll just be replaced. I'm but a...small cog in a machine." As she stepped closer to the two, Five kept a close eye on her. "This fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that- a fantasy. I must say, though, we're all quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-itiveness, really quite something."

YN narrowed her eyes at the flattery.

"Which is why we want to offer both of you new positions back at the Commission in management," she told them.

"Sorry, what's that now?" Five questioned.

"Come back to work for us again," she coaxed. "It's where you belong."

"The last time we were there, things weren't going that good," YN recalled.

"But you wouldn't be in the correction division any longer," the Handler corrected her. "I'm talking about the home office. You'd have the best health and pension, and an end to this ceaseless travel. You're distinguished professionals in-" she trailed off for a second as she looked down, "-matching schoolboy shorts. We have the technology to reverse the process. I mean, you can't be happy like this."

She reached over to push Five's gun down.

"We're not looking for happy," he told her.

"We're all looking for happy," she responded. "We can make that happen. We can make you yourselves again."

Five sighed, looking to the side. "What about my family?"

"What about them?"

"I want them to survive."

The Handler looked at Luther, then at the truck where Diego and Klaus resided.

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them."

Without a word, they watched as the woman pulled out her sunglasses and put them back on. "I'll see what I can do." She held out her hand. "Do we have a deal?"

"One thing," Five said.

He nodded toward the gun lying on the road, silently telling YN to deal with it.

As she went to it, Five messed with a bullet that headed in Luther's direction.

YN unloaded the gun, throwing both parts to the sides before returning.

The Handler held her hand out again. Grabbing YN's first, Five took hers and shook it.

They were gone with a flash, everything returning to normal.

The bullet missed Luther, Cha Cha and Hazel fell to the ground, and the truck crashed into the back of the assassins' car.

Luther frantically looked around for the missing two, calling out their names in confusion.

Looking back at the assassins, he held up the briefcase.

"Come get it!" Cha Cha came running at him but turned when it was thrown to the side.

The man ran to the truck to help his siblings. They ran back to the car as fast as they could.

They quickly climbed inside, Klaus and Diego in the back, Luther getting in the driver's seat.

They were off in seconds, leaving behind the frustrated assassins.

----Taglist

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#five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #umbrella academy x reader #five x reader #tua x reader #tua #tua x you #The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy imagine #number five #number five x you #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x you

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julemmaes · 3 years

Note

One of the kids getting lost in a crowd.

Find Her

A/N: Have I ever told you how much I love angst? Oof, too much. This is set in the same au as this fic here, but there’s no need to read it to understand this. You only need to know that Nessian have five children: Ezra (15 - he’s 14 in the other part), Cal (10), Nora (7), Celia (6) and Andra (4). Ezra is my bby boy and I think we can all agree he’s the best;)

Enjoy!

Word count: 5,175

Cassian couldn't get over how hot a human being could get before collapsing or dying. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back as if he were under the shower jet, and Andra's sticky little hands pulling on his left arm every four seconds didn't help. His mind was somewhere else as he led his family toward the market parking lot.

They were spending their summer vacation in Adriata and although the last ten days had been great, today Nesta had had the great idea of taking the whole family to one of those traditional street markets and it hadn't even taken two hours before the whole Navarro team started complaining that they wanted to be at the beach instead of at that place of "old men with three minutes left of life" - as Celia had described it.

Nesta had tried to convince them that they could have fun there too, watching the locals as they created traditional items from the region and cocked typical local street food, but when she had turned around to see the reaction of the clique, even Cassian had a bored grimace on his face and had sighed, she had decided she stood no chance against them.

After all, though she would never admit it out loud, she didn't even mind all that much spending another day on the sand soaking up the sun while her kids played in the water and didn't bother her.

"Dad are you okay?" asked Ezra suddenly. Cassian turned to his son with a furrowed brow and maybe he had moved too fast because he saw black for a second.

He nodded bringing a hand up to his face to cover himself from the sun, "It's this goddamn heat that's making me sick, but I'm fine don't worry."

Nesta gave him a wary look, ready to snap forward in case her husband decided to pass out, but Cassian smiled lovingly at her and she sighed again, lowering her hat over her face.

"When we get to the beach can we go swimming right away?" asked Andra mumbling half the words as she ate a cookie.

"No, you have to wait until I've put sunscreen on you and everyone else," Nesta answered her flatly - they had that talk every day now. "No one goes in the water until you're all ready, remember?" her mom asked her.

Andra nodded, a little disappointed that she wouldn't be able to jump into the water the second they arrived. They'd made that rule after the fourth time the first two to be ready and “sunscreened” had run into the sea and left the others alone and it had been a ruckus of crying and fits of abandonment.

"I'm hungry." said Celia hopping in front of them and starting to walk backwards so she could look them in the face. Cassian was about to tell her to watch out for the road when the little girl stopped and frowned, making everyone else stop as well.

Nesta extended a hand towards her to cross the street, "We'll figure it out when we get to the car, now give me your hand come on."

"Mom," Cal said with a hint of agitation in his voice. Cassian turned to him feeling his uneasiness. His son's dark eyes locked into his, "Where's Nora?"

Ezra jerked his head up, taking his eyes off his phone, "She was next to me ten seconds ago." he said.

Cassian let go of Andra's hand, moving between them to see if she was hiding behind someone. "Nora!" he called agitatedly. He cast a quick glance at Nesta before starting to walk briskly in the direction they had just come from, motioning the people walking towards him. Ezra brought a hand to his hair and cursed.

Nesta counted her children and gave a choked noise, closing her eyes, "Let's be calm."

"Nora!" they heard Cassian yell again as the reality of what was happening was spread over them like a giant, suffocating black veil.

Ezra stepped closer to her, eyes wide, "I'm going with dad."

"No." said Nesta immediately, her hands beginning to shake. She felt her legs bounce with the need to run after Cassian and find their daughter. Her eyes darted from spot to spot in the garden, behind the bench, through the trees, next to the playground. Nora seemed to be nowhere to be found.

She heard a ringing in her ears and the faint sound of Cassian's voice shouting in the distance.

"Mom." called Ezra to her again, with more urgency.

Nesta snapped out of her trance and grabbed Andra's hand, taking her in her arms and giving her to Ezra, who took his sister without hesitation, "You hold them, I'll go with dad." then she pushed Celia and Cal closer to their older brother, "Please, please don't wander away from here." her voice broke mid-sentence and Ezra winced. He had never seen his mother so upset in his life. None of them had.

Andra began to whimper, probably only just realizing in that moment that Nesta was about to leave. Ezra put a hand on the back of her head and pushed her against his shoulder, "I got this, go find Nora."

Nesta looked into his eyes and blinked a few times, then counted again. One, Ezra, two, Cal, three- three, Celia, four, Andra. Only Nora was missing.

She turned and without another word began to run through the crowd, letting her eyes run over every figure shorter than her hips.

Her stomach was twisting so hard she was afraid she might throw up at any moment.

"Nora."

She saw Cassian freeze suddenly across the garden. Leaning forward as he brought his hands to his mouth in a daze and then resumed running through the crowd shouting his daughter's name.

Nesta stopped in turn, starting to spin around.

This place was too big.

Too big.

She began to breathe heavily, resuming to dart through people, asking anyone if they had seen a little girl with black hair and dark eyes.

No one answered her, but the reaction of the others was always the same. Their faces scrunched up in grimaces of pity and sadness.

Where is my daughter?

The second those words formed in her head a sob came desperately from her throat, scratching its way out of her.

A couple beside her had stopped and were about to approach her, but Nesta had no time.

She started running again, "Nora!"

She felt the dread of any possible option make its way inside her. The idea that she had only strayed from the family and was safe a hope too great for her to wish for.

The image of someone drawing Nora's attention away from the family and kidnapping her was as vivid as a picture in her mind.

How had this happened?

They had all been together until seconds before.

How had it-

Nesta's breath suddenly caught as her vision blurred and she leaned forward, bringing a hand to her throat. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe in enough air to keep looking for Nora.

How many minutes had passed?

How long had she been looking for her?

She felt a hand settle on her back and she snapped forward, pulling herself up and turning around to see who it was.

How long had she been gone?

Nesta sobbed as her face turned into a mask of pain. She had never seen that fear, that terror, in Cassian. She thought at that moment that no parent should ever be forced to feel such utter horror.

Cassian brought his hands to her shoulders, "Nes, I know," his voice as hoarse as hers, but his eyes were so serious, so focused, "I can't find her either, but she can't be too far away." he tried to reason with her.

"What if-" she took a shuddering breath, "what if she hasn't gone far?"

His eyes darkened as he squeezed her shoulders.

"What if someone took her?" she breathed.

Cassian shook his head, looking around, "Don't talk shit, kids get lost all the time," then turned around eyeing all the kids running through the crowd, "She'll be around here for sure."

Her children never strayed.

"Listen to me," Nesta demanded, "it happens. Children get kidnapped and- and taken to the other side of the world to be sold." another sob escaped her.

Cassian closed his eyes, breathing through his nostrils, "Can you please not talk about child trafficking right now?" he begged her. Then she looked over his shoulder and behind him immediately after, "Where are the others?" the panic clear in his voice.

Nesta put a hand on his chest, "They're with Ezra at the entrance of the park." she reassured him, "So if Nora comes through there, they'll see her."

Cassian nodded, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips, bringing her hands to her face, "We find her, okay?"

Nesta nodded.

"And we're not leaving until we do," he murmured.

Then they parted again.

Every time she heard a child crying, laughing, screaming, Nesta felt hope bloom in her chest and her heart break when she realized it wasn't Nora.

A lady had flanked her after ten minutes and they had been looking together for half an hour. She had returned to the entrance after a few minutes to leave Ezra some money and the car keys in case they needed anything, but she had begged them again not to move from where she had left them.

"What was she wearing?" the woman asked. Nesta turned to her with wide eyes and it was as if he couldn't see her. She was looking at her but had no face, no name.

She shook her head, bringing her hands to her temples and closing her eyes, trying to remember what she had taken out of the suitcase that morning, but billions of memories and images were repeating in her head.

The first outfit they had given her when she was still pregnant and had found out she was expecting a girl. The way she had realized just then that she was going to have a little girl.

All the pairs of white and pink and purple booties they had bought her. All the toys she had been submerged in and all the things her aunts and uncles had spoiled her with by being the first of the girls to enter the family.

"I don't remember," she whispered, "I don't remember. My husband dressed her this morning."

Oh god, Cassian.

She hadn't seen him in half an hour, but she knew that he too had gone to make sure the others were okay and had stayed put at the entrance. Cal had made sure to let her know.

The lady put a hand on her shoulder, "It's okay, it's not important." then she stepped closer and Nesta looked up, "If you don't want to involve the authorities that's fine, but there's one of the park rangers there, I think it would be wise to go talk to them, spread the word. Maybe Nora could hear someone talk about it too and get help."

Upon hearing her daughter's name, Nesta felt the tears build up behind her eyelids again. She nodded slightly and then the woman pushed her towards the ranger.

***

Cassian was going crazy.

Never in his life had he felt such extreme fear as he was feeling right now.

He could hear Nora's voice calling to him from every direction and none.

He could hear her laughter like an echo in the distance. He could see her dark, ever-cheerful eyes and-

"Nora!" he shrieked with all the voice he had left. He had lost track of time, but he knew it had been too many minutes, too many seconds, since his daughter had walked away. Too much time for her not to be crying in despair because she couldn't find her parents, her brothers or sisters, any person with a familiar face. He didn't want to picture her thinking they had abandoned her.

A group of people turned toward him, shocked by that sudden burst of hopelessness and anger. He brought a hand to his mouth and choked on a sob.

Nesta had planted the seed of doubt in his head and now he couldn't think of anything else but Nora being dragged away by strangers.

He tried to take a deep breath, to no avail.

Where are you? Where are you-

"Nora where are you?" he said in a broken voice, spinning around.

Two girls in the group stood up, approaching cautiously.

"Sir," one of them asked. Under other circumstances, Cassian would have laughed in outrage at that word. "Have you lost someone?"

"My daughter, Nora," he answered immediately, continuing to look around. How was it possible that there were so many people and no one had found her yet? Surely, a little girl crying in need would have found help right away. "She has dark hair and today she had two braids with fuchsia scrunchies and light blue pants and a green t-shirt."

"We heard one of the guards talking to your wife, I think," said the other. Cassian looked at them, they both had serious and worried expressions on their faces. "If you want we can help look for her."

"Please." he murmured, nodding. The words left his mouth before he could think them out.

One of the two girls turned to the group, "Guys come here."

It didn't take Cassian more than a minute to explain where they had last seen her and how she was dressed, how tall she was. And although he knew these people's intentions were good, he couldn't block out the concern. He was providing a clear picture of his daughter to a group of strangers that could have been as dangerous as they were helpful.

The feeling of panic and dread only intensified as they all scattered, beginning to shout his daughter's name.

He couldn't help but wonder if this would only make the situation worse.

Nora was smart and would never leave of her own will. But she was also very reserved, probably the shyest of their large family, if she heard someone call out her name, Cassian wasn't sure she would come forward. In fact, it would probably get the opposite reaction in her and make her look for a way to hide.

After all, he and Nesta had taught her not to trust strangers.

He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath.

How was he going to explain to Nesta that he couldn't find her anywhere?

How was he supposed to get out of that place if he wasn't holding his daughter?

***

Nesta had fainted.

The lady had been just in time to put an arm around her waist when her legs had given out under her weight. She had closed her eyes for a second and then found herself lying on a bench, while someone pulled her legs up to get the blood flowing to her head, surrounded by curious and worried people.

"Nora..." she murmured, trying to find out something about the situation.

She wasn't crying, but she could feel the tears sliding down her temples.

Fuck the heat, fuck the low blood pressure.

She needed to find her daughter.

She had pulled herself up to her seat, despite the protests of the people around her, and resumed wandering around the park, screaming Nora's name as loudly as she could. It was as if the whole world was looking for her now. She could also hear the voices of others saying the name again and again and again.

She felt her legs weak and her knees wobble beneath her, ready to buckle from exhaustion, ready to give way one more time when she heard it.

"Mom!"

Nesta's head snapped in the direction of the sound, perhaps too quickly as she couldn't focus on anything, but she had already begun to cry when her daughter's small, puny body collided against her legs, leaping into the air to be picked up. Nesta let herself fall to the ground, taking Nora's face in her hands and laughing through her tears, looking into her eyes, making sure she was okay and unharmed. She was crying too, but she didn't seem to be hurt.

She wrapped her arms around the little girl as she too cried and hid her face in her mother's neck. Nesta breathed heavily when a sob broke the crying, one hand went to caress the girl's head.

"Nora." she whispered, "Nora, Nora, Nora-" she repeated over and over.

Her daughter's hands tightened around Nesta's shirt and she didn't care about anything else but the fact that Nora was okay. She was safe.

"Oh thank god." she heard someone say and then a loud thud, before arms wrapped around both of them and Cassian's sobs of relief and exhaustion from the dread they had shared so far joined theirs.

Nesta pulled away just enough so her husband could see that Nora was intact and when the little girl saw her father, a sound that Nesta wished she never heard again in her life made its way between them, produced by her daughter, "Dad!"

A huge smile spread across his face and Nesta laughed amidst tears, "Potato," he called before Nora launched herself onto him and wrapped her little arms around his neck. Cassian's hands left their place on Nesta's back and tightened on Nora.

"It's okay honey," she whispered, resting her forehead against Nora's back, "you found us." she continued when she heard her daughter sobbing louder.

She met Cassian's gaze over Nora's shoulder and smiled at him, letting go a sigh of relief and closing her eyes.

They stayed cuddled on that lawn until Nora stopped sobbing so hard that it seemed impossible to speak and each sob was like a stab to the heart. Nesta and Cassian had spent an hour looking for her, terrified that someone had kidnapped her, but Nora must have thought they had abandoned her, left her behind.

At the mere thought that she was the cause of the heartbreaking cry that was shaking her daughter, Nesta pulled Nora's arms away from Cassian's body and brought her to her chest, cradling her as she told her how much she loved her and how worried she had been. Then, to play it down a bit, she added chuckling, "Mom even fainted at one point, you know?" Nora's eyes had looked up at her at that point, "I fell straight down on the floor and some gentlemen had to lift my legs-"

She was interrupted by Cassian, "You what?"

She looked up at him, smiling wearily, and he seemed to realize how white she actually was just then. Cassian dropped his head forward, bringing a hand over his eyes, "Sorry I didn't notice, I was thinking about Nora-"

Nesta put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm fine." she told him, then looked at Nora again, "I'm fine." she repeated more slowly, moving a strand of hair from the little girl's forehead and smiling at her.

She felt Cassian's gaze on her, trying to figure out if she was actually okay, if she was going to pass out at any moment, but she didn't care. Nora was in her arms and breathing and intact and she didn't care about anything else.

The lady who had helped her had brought them a small bottle of water and now Nesta was sitting Nora down so she could drink.

"Easy there." Cassian had told her seeing how she had stuck to the bottle. It had hurt them both to see how quickly she had finished half the water.

That wasn't thirst, that was fear.

Nora hadn't said anything yet, but they knew it was only because she was in shock.

They had thanked everyone who had helped look for her and then turned back toward the exit, Nora in Cassian's arms, her head resting on her father's shoulder and her arms dangling at her sides as she slept worn out with emotion.

When Celia saw them coming she broke away from the group, starting to run towards them and shouting Nora's name, but Nesta brought a finger to her mouth and she froze dead in her tracks, but she was smiling. As were the other three for that matter.

Cassian could see the remnants of a cry on Andra's face and felt guilty for leaving them alone in the sun for so long without returning to them from time to time. He saw Ezra close his eyes and sigh with relief more than once and put Andra down, who along with Cal ran to their parents. Ezra sat down on a bench, bringing his hands to his face.

"Nora's resting now, okay?" pointed out Nesta to her three children. They all nodded frantically. "So let's not make too much noise."

"Mom and I thought we'd go back to the hotel, at least for a few hours," Cassian continued, keeping his gaze fixed on his oldest son, who still kept his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands, "Then when she wakes up, after we've all eaten, we''ll see if we can go to the beach for a few hours, sounds like the plan?" Andra let out an excited squeal and Celia shushed her, Cal simply nodded, but he still looked worried about Nora.

Nesta smiled at him and lowered herself to their height. As if she had been a magnet, the three children immediately reached out, touching her in some way: one hand on her shoulder, one on her knee, one on her hand. Cassian stepped back.

"Nora's fine, I mean it," she squeezed Cal's tiny hand. "Sorry we were gone so long, but we couldn't find her," she explained to them, "We went all over the park, made new friends, talked to the park guards. I even fainted from the heat, ouch." she brought a hand to her forehead, imitating the fainting gesture, to make them laugh. It only worked with Andra. "But we're all fine, we're all here."

Nesta smiled, "One, Ezra." she said, "Two?"

"Cal." said the person directly concerned.

"Three?"

"Nora." said the girls.

"Four?" asked Andra.

"Celia." replied her sister, "And five?"

"Me!" squealed the youngest.

"That's right, you're five and you're all here," said Nesta, "You do know we didn't want to leave you alone here?" she asked, hesitant to introduce the subject. Three little heads nodded in confusion. "Dad and I would have reacted exactly the same way for all of you," she continued, "And we're sorry if we scared you acting like that, but we were scared too," she explained, stiffening her back and watching each of her children's reaction carefully, "If you feel that you're scared or stressed or want to cry because it seems like too much, you can do that. Mom and Dad cried, too." Celia opened her eyes wide, mouthing a dad and shifting her gaze to her father.

Cassian was much more emotional than Nesta, actually, but he tried never to do it in front of his kids because he knew it made them restless and sad. It had only happened a few times and Cassian still hadn't forgiven himself for making his kids worry like that, but that didn't mean they didn't teach them to express their feelings openly.

"These are stressful situations for everyone, so we understand if you need to release some frustration." Nesta smiled at them. Then an idea occurred to her, "How about when we get back to the beach tonight or tomorrow morning, we scream under the water so loud that we scare the little fish?"

Celia and Cal nodded again with excitement. Andra frowned, "I don't want to scare them."

Nesta stroked her face, "Then you'll sing to them and scream just a little bit loud. So we can let go of some of the stress of this horrible day, hmm?"

They all seemed to agree.

"Can we get pizza when we get to the hotel?" asked Celia with a strange glint in her eye. The little girl knew perfectly well when to ask for certain things. She knew full well when Nesta wouldn't be able to resist giving her kids everything they wanted without batting an eye.

Nesta nodded.

The children suddenly rejoiced and began to do a little dance that had been a tradition for more than seven years now. Something little Cal and the still child Ezra had invented when theirs sisters weren't even an idea.

Smiling, Nesta pulled herself up to her feet again, "Come on let's go to Dada."

***

"Ezra." murmured Cassian.

His son's head snapped toward him and he frowned. Cassian contracted his jaw.

"How is she?" asked Ezra in a raspy voice. Realizing this, he cleared his throat and pulled himself up to sit with his back straight, looking away from the approaching duo.

Cassian watched him closely, "She's fine, she got really scared and her mom found her crying, but she's fine." then he sat down next to him, being careful not to bend Nora's legs. Ezra bent down to his little sister, stroking her forehead, as Nesta had done only a few minutes before. "How are you?"

"Fine," his son replied too quickly, "why? How am I supposed to be?" he asked, snickering nervously.

Cassian was tired. So tired that if it wasn't for the fact that he had to take everyone to the hotel, he would have fallen asleep on the first free bench and slept for days, but he had to make sure his son was okay.

"Because we left you alone with the other three and it's not a small thing. Thank you for doing this." said Cassian to him, looking at the wedding band on his finger and playing with the ring, trying not to make the other uncomfortable.

Ezra shrugged, "I do it all the time, it's no big deal."

"That doesn't make the task any easier," his father murmured. "In fact, the fact that you do it every day is admirable and I'm sure without you, Mom and I wouldn't survive half a day," he chuckled. Ezra smiled wearily.

"How are you?" he tried again.

The boy seemed to really think about it, "I was afraid something bad had happened to her, but I couldn't do anything about it and I couldn't talk to the others about it because they're still too young and I'm sure a riot would have erupted if I said even half the stuff I was thinking," Ezra confessed in one breath. Cassian was about to respond, but his son continued, "And then Andra started crying and Celia was hungry and I didn't know what to do because she didn't like the stuff at the food trucks, but I couldn't get out of the park because if Nora came by, I'd lose her and-" he took a deep breath and looked toward Cassian, "You know?"

Cassian wished he didn't know. He wished his son didn't have to take those things into account. He wished he and Nesta didn't have to lean on him so much.

"Yes, I know," he murmured. Then he looked into his eyes, "I know your mom has been telling you this since you were born, Ezra, but if you want to cry because it all gets to be too much, no one is going to make fun of you or tell you to man up. You know it's all bullshit." said Cassian, turning slightly towards him, "Andra and Celia don't know how to talk about their emotions yet because they're too little, same with Cal and Nora and they cry to make us understand they're feeling too much. Just because you can release some of the tension by talking about it, doesn't mean it has to be just that way."

"I know," Ezra nodded, "I know," he said more softly. Then he ran a hand over his face, "Although I'd rather you didn't give me these heart-to-hearts in the middle of so many people."

Cassian chuckled, already feeling lighter upon hearing that Ezra had started joking again. He just had to make sure his son knew one last thing.

"Maybe not in situations like this, because we really needed you today," he said sincerely, "But when we're home and Mom and I want to take a night off and ask you to babysit, if you're not up for it or even just don't feel like it for one night, tell us and we'll figure something else out or we'll go out another time." Cassian watched as his other children danced in front of Nesta and smiled, "We would never want you to feel forced to parent."

"Yeah yeah, I know," Ezra chuckled, "all that talk about me being a son too and not having the same responsibilities as you as a sibling." he turned a relieved look to his father, "Mom reminds me enough that I know her speech better than happy birthday."

Cassian burst out laughing at Ezra's exasperated tone and when Nesta and the others stopped in front of them they were all smiling. Nesta leaned forward over her oldest son kissed his forehead, "Thank you, love."

Ezra nodded just once, a tight smile on his lips.

"Can we please go now?" sighed Cal. Celia nodded beside him, ever the one to agree with her brother.

Cassian pulled himself up with a grunt and then Ezra, who took Andra's hand and held it tightly as if afraid she might disappear at any moment.

"Are you going to sing or yell at the fish?" asked the little girl as they crossed the street.

"What?" asked her brother laughing.

"Do you sing like me or yell with mom?" she demanded without giving any context yet again.

Ezra shifted his gaze to his father and Cassian looked as confused as he was, so he looked at his mom, who was laughing under her breath.

"Mom?"

"I may have promised them that we would scream underwater to release some of the extra steam," she explained.

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head, "Sure, all normal."

Ezra shifted his attention to Andra, "I think I'll sing with you." he replied, smiling.

Eyes as light as his locked on his face and then a lighthearted laugh made its way between the two and Ezra couldn't help but laugh along with his sister, picking her up and spinning her around in the air.

Nesta counted her children one last time before getting into the car and when she got inside, she leaned her head back against the seat, sighing. Cassian mimicked her and then leaned toward her, Nesta turning just in time for their lips to collide.

A roar of disgust and embarrassed giggles erupted from the backseat, and Nesta thought she'd never heard such a beautiful sound while still smiling at her husband.

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mieohmy · 3 years

Text

𝖬𝗂𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗇

PAIRING: lee chan x model! reader

GENRE: humor, kinda fluff, enemies-to-something-more

WC: 1.4k

NOTES: none??????????

↳ “Ew, are we matching? Change immediately.”

❧

If someone asked how you fit thirteen boys in your small studio apartment, you wouldn’t have an answer. Luckily, maybe this time you would get one.

You were shocked to say the least when you opened the door to find the whole group crowded in front.

*cue Joshua's surprise~*

“What are you guys doing here???”

“We came to congratulate you on your new debut! We saw your photos, they look really good.”

You had just debuted as a new model, your first photos released a couple of days ago. So far, it had gotten pretty positive feedback, but you were still new to the industry.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna let us in?” You blink. “Right.” You step aside, letting all the boys file in.

Your eyes focus on the cake Joshua’s holding. “Guys, you didn’t really have to come. Thanks for the cake. Well, uh...”

All thirteen pairs of eyes look at you, expectantly. “Are you guys just gonna hang out here or something? Like, do you not have something else to do??”

“Nope,” Jeonghan says, causally cozied up on your couch. “But we brought food, so... yeah.” You roll your eyes. “Right, like that automatically means you all can just barge in.”

All of them somehow settle into your extremely small apartment. You groan, thinking about the mess that’d be left later.

“Cheer up, y/n. We got your favorite cookies!” Hoshi says. You gasp, staring at the box handed to you.

“Who bought these? Minghao??”

You look around the room expectantly, beaming.

“No, actually Dino,” Joshua responds.

You deflate, letting out a disinterested oh, but on the inside, you were quite surprised.

Dino was not really someone you would expect to buy something for you. You were surprised he even came here with the others. Let’s just say, your relationship with him wasn’t the best. You two just didn’t really get along, always arguing and bickering.

Speaking of, where was he? You glance around. “Is Dino even here?” Joshua shrugs. “Went to the bathroom, I think.”

You nod slowly, processing everything until seungcheol’s voice cuts you off. “Y/n, let’s go out and celebrate! What restaurant do you wanna go to?”

You frown. “We’re going out now?” “Yes,” seungcheol sternly replies. “Now hurry and get changed so we can eat!!”

Grumbling, you go to your room, deciding on a nice outfit and placing on your cap- just to add a little extra.

After closing your door, you walk out to the waiting guys. “Alright, I’m ready. We can go now.” You suddenly hear a snicker and whisper.

Confused, you look at all of them, trying to figure out what was so funny before your eyes land on a certain person, or to be more specific, his outfit.

“Ew, are we matching? Change immediately,” you blurt out.

The shirts were extremely similar, jeans too. Not to mention the same color shoes. Bruh, he even had to have the cap, too?

Dino laughs a sarcastic bark, before staring you dead in the eye. “No- you.”

You groan in frustration. “Chan, I don’t have time for this! Please?”

He shakes his head, absolute. “No way. I look fine in this outfit alright? You can change if you’re so bothered by it.”

Seungcheol interrupts. “Come on guys, we don’t have all day for your arguing again. By the time you two finish, all the restaurants will be closed.”

Huffing, you stubbornly reply, “whatever. I don’t care. Let’s go.”

As the whole group exits, you make sure not to walk near Dino. You didn’t want anyone to misunderstand.

“Wow, can’t believe how similar yours and Dino’s clothes are. Did you purposely plan the couple outfit or-?” Dokyeom teases.

You raise an arm up to him threateningly, annoyed. “Yeah right, like I would.” Sighing frustratedly, you continue. “I mean- how could we basically choose the same clothes? I didn’t even see what he was wearing until after I finished.”

Dokyeom hums next to you. “Well, you know... you and Dino are more alike than you realize. Like, a lot more.”

You raise your eyebrows in shock. “What? Me and Dino?” He shrugs. “Yeah, you guys act similar, like the same things. I mean, your outfit choices today kinda prove it.”

As the group stops at a crosswalk during a red light, you take the chance to really think.

Were you and Dino really that similar?

You find yourself in front of a noodle restaurant (you note that you didn’t get to choose even though it’s your celebration.. )

When all fourteen of you somehow find a table, guess who’s sitting next to you? Ah, yes. The one and only lee chan. You swear everyone else did this on purpose.

“Oooooh look at our matching couple~~,” someone says. You think it’s Hoshi or something, making a mental note in your head to ‘talk’ to him later.

“I swear if you don’t stop-” you hiss, raising your fork threateningly. Luckily, a waiter comes to take everyone’s order. But after spotting you (and Dino), they immediately stop, muttering an excuse me, and quickly running back. You share a look with chan, confused.

They return with an older lady in tow. Once she spots you two, she immediately gasps, clapping her hands together. “Perfect.”

Walking over, she displays a flattering smile. “Not to be intruding, but you two look like such a handsome couple together.” You hiccup. Handsome???

You hear Dino interrupt, “oh, we’re not a-“ but she cuts him off.

“-especially since those outfits are perfect. Would you be interested in doing a quick photoshoot for our restaurant together? Once you’re done you can just come right back, and your food will already be there!”

“Wait, right now?” You finally manage to get out. The lady nods enthusiastically. “Yes, it won’t take long. Oh, and the compensation will be your food bill!”

Immediately all the guys push you and Dino forward. You’re hesitant though, this was supposed to be a fun night celebrating, but you’re over here about to do work. Slowly, you start to speak. “Guys, I don’t-“ “yeah, sure. We’ll do it.”

The lady beams as you look at Dino in shock.

“What are you doing?!?” You mutter. “Idiot. Can’t you see? This is a great opportunity for your career.” he hisses back.

The lady leads you two somewhere, and you fall silent. Lee chan was actually trying to help you, ha...

You end up in a room at the back of the restaurant- cameras, and lights all prepared. Even a photographer was called. Who just has a whole photoshoot set up at their restaurant like that?

Eventually, they get everything set up, and you’re suddenly next to Chan, posing your modeling face and holding fake props.

It was strange- you’re guessing they thought you two were a couple, probably because of the stupid matching outfits, but it was too late to say anything(especially if you got free food).

You had never really been so close to him before, being so touchy, but right as they paused, you two would immediately move away. You even had to sit in his lap- it was hard to keep a straight face.

It makes you surprised at how good Dino is at this, he didn’t seem fazed by the close proximity between you two.

That caused you to wonder if he was feeling the same thing as you. It was an unknown feeling in your chest, whenever you had to pose extremely close to him.

When they finally tell you they’re finished, it was quicker than you thought. The lady runs over to you, gushing. “Wow, the photos look amazing. You two are so good at this- it’s like you’re models or something.” Chan smiles, shaking his head but thanking her.

She directs you to where the photographer is, photos showing up.

They look good. You two look good together. Heck, if you saw this out in public, you would totally go to this restaurant.

Having to squat to see the photos, you glance up and notice Chan’s head right above yours. He’s smiling at the photos, a soft look on his face. The photographer says something that finally breaks your attention away. You blush, hoping he didn't notice you. “Alright, if that’s all, you guys can return to your food!”

The lady once again thanks you two a billion more times, saying “please, you two can come back whenever you want to eat for free, and we can do more photoshoots too!”

She guides you out of the room, leaving you to go back to the others.

You and chan glance at each other, a different look that’s not filled with annoyance or anger.

“... we should wear the same clothes more often.”

“Why? Cause you want to match with me?”

“No, stupid. For offers like this.”

“Be honest. you Iike matching, don’t you?”

“.... only a little.”

#seventeen #dino #seventeen dino #lee chan #dino x reader #dino scenarios #dino imagines #dino fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #lee chan x reader #lee chan scenarios #lee chan imagines

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criscura · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @rayadraws! thhHANK ////<3<3 1) How many works do you have on AO3? 28 2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 604,733 3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? JUST OPM //// 4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? "Tumbling Down," "Lemongrass and Sleep," "Love Me, Love Me Not," "Extracurricular," and "What a Deal" 5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I WISH I WAS BETTER AT ANSWERING BUT I GET SO OVERWHELMED. I fucking LOVE every comment I get, i gobble it up and reread it a billion times, but...it takes me like ten, fifteen minutes to respond to just one a lot of the time and then i get anxious and distracted.... >< 6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I won't publish the angstiest thing I've written on AO3 'cause it's bad end "what if Genos died before either of them ever confessed" and it is TOO sad. So the closest to sad right now is "Suck Me Off" (It would be "Risky Business," but I'm in the process of writing the next part and it will immediately rescind that title XD) 7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I mean Tumbling Down, but they do all end about the same--the boys together forever, and generally with at least one little girl 8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I don't TooT 9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? ...No? I mean I'm sure I'd remember 10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? BOY HOWDY. Yes. Very much of it. It's also very, very feelsy and story-driven/dictating. I know PWP exists but I think I'm physically incapable of writing it. 11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? They're the only ones who know, if they did XD 12) Have you ever had a fic translated? I think!! Yes!! One! 13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not, and I'm a little nervous to. I like complete control of what I make >/////< 14) What’s your all time favorite ship? EGG AND TOASTERRR, that's my OTP T~~~~T Akuroku behind that, then Touya and Yuki from CCS behind that. 15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Technically none, I end my fics on spots where they could stand on their own on purpose so I never have the weight of a fic on my shoulders...except for "Risky Business," which was stressing me out, but I'm back to work on that. When it comes to writing it REALLY fucking pisses me off having things half-finished (moreso with drawn or constructed art, I'm not sure why), so I only take on things that I'm absolutely positive I can finish 16) What are your writing strengths? I think I'm good at speaking through a character and depicting what's going on through their POV to a really intimate level. I'm proud of the kind of really close third person voice I've built up over time. I think....I think I do pretty okay at showing and *only* telling when nothing else will hit the same way. I try really, really hard to tell a story the exact same way someone might experience it IRL, with all the interplay between external forces and internal voices. 17) What are your writing weaknesses? iiiii let the characters talk all they want. I know it's not good but BOY is it fun XD i also think i just....i really write a lot. like a LOT. it's easier for me, but I worry that i'm diluting the punch of what i'm doing because of it. 18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Sure! Why not! If it fits, it fits--even if you need to do some remodeling before you get there. 19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Technically Kingdom Hearts, but it's been looooong gone XD 20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? how dare you ask this question, i have no idea. Of course "Tumbling Down" is my giant, massive, enormous child, but like........I love "Risky Business" because of how fucking dumb Saitama is and how bitchy Genos acts, i love "Lemongrass and Sleep" because THE YEARNING (and i really like world-building that way///), i love "Dog Days, Summer Nights" because that's the closest thing to my natural writing voice, I LOOOOVE "Pinocchio" because I genuinely

do not think I will ever make a better character study of Genos than that fic, like......man, pick a limb for me to lose, I can't take just one

THIS WAS FUN RAYA THANK YOU!!! aah.... i'll tag @paperficwriter @bloodsbane @anonymousedward

#i'm sorry it took me so long.....#i kept on forgetting i was tagged >////<#i'm did this at like six in the morning because I knew I'd forget again

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

i’m a money symbol

summary: when ransom finds out he’s been cut from the will, there’s a different reason he flies into a murderous rage

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

words: 1655

trigger warnings: degradation, findom/sub dynamics, sex work,

notes: thank you to @helahades for talking to me about this concept when i was still debating writing it. ur an enabler but i love u very much

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Ransom stares at you with eyes that rival that of pleading puppies - large and watery and a deep, deep blue. His clean-shaved face, tear-stained and reddened from the sobs that still riddle his body, is equally as pathetic.

“I-I promise I-I can pay you s-”

You cut him off with the raise of a single sculpted eyebrow, looking down at him as he falls to his knees - body folded and hands clasped together like a fervent believer praying for forgiveness after committing some heinous sin, or a servant begging their superior to let them keep their lowly position. Either analogy seems fitting given the circumstances, given his lack of inheritance and the slowly declining numbers in his bank account.

“One thing,” you hiss, lifting one of your expensive Louboutin heels so that it presses into the base of his neck, forcing his body into an even more unnatural position. He groans just a little at the pain - ass (and much more of him, probably) still sore from last night’s session. You ignore him. “I ask for one thing. It’s not hard. In fact, it was the one thing you could do quite well. Any now, what, you have none?”

Ransom gulps, nearly out of breath. “I-I have money it’s just that I-, I’m cut off right now I sw-”

The pointed heel presses further, his legs spreading underneath him to make room as his nose nearly touches the recently cleaned red oak flooring.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, practically spitting as you glare down at him. “Only good little boys who pay me to earn the right to speak to me are allowed to blubber like children.”

He whimpers as the sharp pain from your expensive shoe merges with the clumsy position of his limbs to settle in his blood – his whole body screaming like a banshee as his cock strains in his years-old designer skinny jeans.

“The worst part is,” you sigh, watching his muscles strain just as heat settles in your stomach. Slowly, but surely, it moves to your core. “I was looking forward to seeing you again. Can you imagine such a thing? Me, looking forward to seeing one of you stupid little pay pigs…”

A dry laugh fills the air that sense another wave of arousal through his nervous system, his muscles and brain screaming at him to get up and walk the Hell out of there while his cock pleads with him to stay in place.

“Now get naked,” you sigh, swishing the sweet cocktail in one of the glasses monogrammed with your initials you had gotten as a gift (again, not from Ransom) last year. “I know of a way you can be of use to me.”

Immediately he strips, your gaze heated and targeted as he peels that damned sweater he refuses to replace from his toned body. He sucks in a sharp breath as the air – cool despite the roaring fire – hits his bare skin, goosebumps erupting all over as he shivers under your heated gaze.

It’s amusing, to say the least, to watch his clothes hit the floor, kicked aside as if they were something worse than trash despite their designer tags. Money means nothing to Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey if it’s not being spent on you.

Without preamble, you kick him with a single heeled foot so that he’s knocked to his knees, hands strained at his sides as he desperately attempts to obey the rules that accompany punishments. As his eyes screw shut in pain, you take the few seconds to grab the worst thing you keep in the drawer of the small table next to your plush, deep purple velvet armchair. It’s the thing Ransom hates the most in this world – even more than his family or their stupid maid or being broke or even disappointing you.

Just as his eyes open, you lean down to lock his cock in the pink plastic cage with a wince-inducing click, depositing the key in the space between your chest and the baby pink fabric of your bralette. It’s simple, mostly sheer with embroidered flowers spanning over the length of each breast while barely concealing your hardened nipples. The matching panties show off your tummy and thighs – cutting you in just the right places so that you look even more heavenly than usual.

“Fu-uck,” he moans when he realizes what’s happened, what you’ve done to him. It’s almost cute in how pathetic it is, the sound he makes and the precum that gathers at the tip and how his stomach tightens with each breath. It’s cute how pathetic he is – how his face scrunches up and he bites his lips until they’re beautiful and plump. Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey may be a chauvinist asshole with an ego bigger than his trust fund (or, what he trust fund used to be), but damn can he be so pretty it hurts.

“Down,” is all you say, giving him a small hmm as he falls to all fours. His eyes remain focused on the ground as you haven’t given him permission to keep anything else in his eyeline. He doesn’t need to be told to keep his back straight, body barely flinching as you sit back down and plant your feet in the center of his spine, your authentic red bottoms a beautiful contrast to his milky skin.

“You like my shoes, baby?” you ask, rolling them back in forth against the ridges of his spine. “You got them for me when you had money—you weren’t as useless then…”

Ransom’s back is parallel to the plush white throw you’d placed on the ground for him, his palms, knees, and the front of his feet warming the fur as you rest your own feet in the center of his spine. He can’t see you as he faces your fireplace, doesn’t have the pleasure of watching you as you talk with other clients - other men with millions, maybe even billions more than him not only in their bank accounts, but in their futures. Your long acrylic nails, ones it pains him to think he didn’t pay for, taptaptap against your phone screen as messages are typed. Judging by the click he hears every so often (in combination with your shifting in your seat) Ransom assumes you’re also taking photos – but whether they’re of you to send to customers or of him to use as blackmail, he may never know.

It's painful in a plethora of ways – but the playboy can’t tell if the pit in his chest, the aching of his cock, or the sharp pain in his back hurts worse. None of these things improve with time, either, the hours marked by glasses of champagned downed and Venmo transfers made.

The only thing that makes it better is the familiar sound of your phone being locked and placed in the side table screen-down before your feet are planted back on the floor with two sharp clacks. Sounds that would normally make Ransom’s cock jump if not for the plastic that was locked around him.

“Get in position, you useless slut,” you hiss, your hand flying to this throat so you could squeeze a warning against his skin. “You’re going to pleasure me until I say you can stop.”

Ransom gulps, his eyes wide with fear and pupils blown from lust. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that reminds you of when he deepthroats one of your many, many straps, and bows his head in submission. “Y-yes Mistress,” he moans deep, his eyes fluttering shut as the sheer memory of your dripping cunt floods his mind. It’s been so long – too long – since he’s been with you, been inside you; and he’s desperate as you push your panties to the side to reveal your soaked lips.

Ransom waits for your nod of approval before he launches himself forward, placing wet kisses wherever he can reach. You’re sensitive already, little gasps falling past your lips when he takes your clit between his teeth and sucks.

You don’t do a lot of sex work that involves service clients – it’s exhausting, to say the least, requires a lot of set up and take down and the like. For a long while you did no contact work, but it was a few clients – Ransom included – that convinced you to break into it.

And, fuck does he make all the work worth it. His fingers slide into you with confidence and expertise, finding that special spot inside of you with ease, groaning into your dripping cunt each time you cry out his name.

“Jesus, baby boy,” you cry out between guttural moans. “You’re so fucking good for your Mistress aren’t you?”

He nods, flatting his tongue as his face moves up and down and that-

That is what breaks you.

You come on his face as your thighs nearly choke him – his hands digging into the insides of your thighs. Ransom himself can’t tell if he’s trying to pull him apart – desperate for air as his whole body goes cold from lack of oxygen – or if his arms holding them in place so he has the honor to die while experiencing pure euphoria. As your pussy pulses on his tongue Ransom wonders if he’s already passed over, if Heaven is the space between your legs and why he’s been allowed there despite his many, many sins.

It doesn’t take long before his movements slow for a moment, causing you to groan in frustration before grabbing his previously-impeccably styled hair.

“Did I tell you to stop, slut?”

He gives you a small whine before shaking his head, eyes large and jaw soaked.

You smile at his obedience. “Then get down there and eat me out until I’m crying.”

Ransom smiles before moving his head back down, returning to his position below you.

God, you think. This really is the best job ever.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale/reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #lukis writes stuff #ransom drysdale

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Video

youtube

‘today’s silm vocaloid song: clear sky engine (クリヤスカイ機関) by nyanyannya and hara ft. rin kagamine and zunko tohoku

this one’s about elrond, maglor, and the sudden non-ending of the world. you know that thing where you build an elaborate fandom video in your head for a completely unrelated song, but you don’t have the most basic art skills you’d need to make it a reality? yeah, i square that circle by writing them out. here, have an extremely long songfic/filk/commentary/thing

It was just another day, beneath a black sky

The bustle of camp churned on around me

I wasn’t paying attention to what my hands were doing

Dreaming of a shining star-lit sky

we open on elrond, living in a world about to die. the fëanorians were forced to abandon amon ereb years ago, and now the last of the host ekes out a precarious nomadic existence, raiding deserted villages for food and losing more people they can’t replace with each battle. they’re still doing better than everyone else on the mainland, though. their blades, at least, remain sharp

(the smoke from the fires of angband has risen to cover the whole continent in dark clouds. some of the sun’s warmth still gets through, and on good nights the star of high hope is still faintly visible, but the light-filled skies of old are little more than memory. all the survivors know that the end is near. it’s only a matter of time)

He’d broken a promise he’d made to us

So I was a little more annoyed at him than usual

He chatted with me while I worked to make up for it

And I made all my usual complaints

elrond and elros are at this point... i’d say very early teens? not that they had much of a childhood; the fëanorians are so short-staffed the twins have been doing odd jobs around camp pretty much since it became clear they weren’t going to run away. today elrond is taking stock of the medical supplies, less because he has any interest in the healing arts than because it’s a job that needs doing and everyone else is busy

maglor is hovering within talking distance, doing elrond-doesn’t-care-what. the twins’ relationship with maglor is extremely complicated to say the least, their mercurial hellbeast protector who scares the shit out of everyone else they’ve ever met and who has stood between them and the darkness for as long as they can remember. recently, he promised to stay with the twins while they did something difficult, but he failed to do so for a whole host of reasons, including getting into a two-hour shrieking match with maedhros at the last possible moment. elros shrugged it off, like elros shrugs everything off, but elrond is a simmering cauldron of adolescent rage at the best of times

which is why maglor’s checking on him, giving him an outlet for his anger before it can turn into despair. because what would be the point, in the end? they’re all going to die anyway. one of the reasons maglor’s resisted sending the kids to balar so hard is that no matter where they are, eventually morgoth will sweep down and destroy them all. there’s nowhere safe left, nothing they can do to protect them. none of this is even new, it’s a shadow that’s hung over them all since the twins grew old enough to understand this

so maglor and elrond chat, or rather elrond grumbles incessantly and maglor snarks as upliftingly as he can remember to. it’s a day like any other, nothing about it to distinguish it from the hundreds that came before or however many will come after. that is, until one of the lesser minions comes over, yelling, ‘boss! boss! you have to see this!’

elrond turns around. for the first time ever, he sees true hope on her face

“Have you finally grown tired of us?” I hissed

But in that moment excitement ran round the campsite

And someone cried out with joy

“The hour we thought would never be, the return of the light, has finally come to pass!”

far, far away, the hosts of the valar are landing on the shores of beleriand. disembarking from their luminous ships, clad in radiant armour and carrying blessed weapons, their brilliance pierces the dark fog that has settled over beleriand for so long. shining like the stars come to earth, the hallowed army of valinor begins its long march towards the gates of angband. far above, ships riding jets of light slice open the smog

this news - this unexpected, unbelievable, impossible miracle bestowed unto doomed beleriand, this chance that their enemy might actually fall - is the greatest thing anyone in camp’s heard all century. maybe in more prosperous times the host would have groused about the valar finally seeing fit to get off their asses, but in this world turned to ash any chance at victory is to be celebrated. the minions throw a massive impromptu party, of the kind they haven’t since before sirion. elros is right there with them, singing off-key and laughing as loud as anyone else. even maedhros cracks a tiny relieved smile

maglor watches the festivities from the outside, more genuinely optimistic than he thought he was still capable of. elrond joins him, brow furrowed as he tries to comprehend it all. they talk

“It feels like a dream I’ll never wake up from”

“What are you blabbering about now?”

elrond is voiced by zunko, maglor by rin. the song’s more of a dialogue than a duet, so i’ll be bolding maglor’s lines

The sheet of paper I held in my hands read

“The hosts of the West have come! Our world is saved!”

the letter’s from gil-galad, or at least his administrative apparatus. it’s not even that hostile; apparently the armies of the gods showing up out of nowhere to save them all from certain doom has him in a magnanimous mood. there’s some drivel about surrendering and eärendil and all wrongs being forgiven, but neither maglor nor elrond is paying attention to it

“Hey, do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Love and justice and valour and hope”

“I remember the sea of blood you drowned everything in for them”

elrond didn’t really have any formal schooling - nobody had the time - but he has managed to pick up a lot of stuff from the stories the people around them tell. that the fëanorians came to middle-earth for high noble ideals, and that it was trying to fulfil those ideals that led them into darkness, is something maglor told him once, when he was in a darkly honest mood

“Haha, that’s just details, everybody makes that kind of mistake when they’re young”

“Why are you like this?”

a mood maglor’s obviously not in at the moment, if he’s laughing off the kinslayings like this; elrond knows this isn’t how he actually feels about them. normally elrond would just roll his eyes and move on with his life, but things are different today

The camp was full of laughter, as if everyone had lost their minds

elrond’s not used to happiness. not full, unironic happiness, untainted by the shadow of their inevitable death, not from the fëanorians. the sheer jubliation suffusing camp is fundamentally alien to him, a child of a world about to end. he doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that maybe they won’t all get eaten by dragons. he doesn’t know what to do with the hope in everyone’s eyes

so instead, when maglor wanders away from the party, elrond catches him with a song

“What if for one more year, ten more years, a hundred more years, the shadow still reigns?”

“Then ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years, a million years later, we’ll see it fall! For certain”

“What if I lay out all one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight of the fears I carry?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine songs I can give to you”

maglor’s been teaching elrond how to do this, how to snatch someone into a world of music and throw your voice at them until one of you can’t take it any more. maglor wins this one, as usual; even if his song is incapable of anything but violence he’s got centuries of experience on elrond, enough to turn the sharp edges of his voice into blades in elrond’s hands. and that is what he’s doing, clumsy and harsh as he is; he’s trying to give elrond a reason to hope

elrond is the one who breaks the spell, dropping the melody, letting the music dissolve into the air. maglor flashes him a grin and walks off, humming merrily. elrond just stands there, still unable to understand

I’ve heard it before, it’s all anyone can talk about, even if I try to avoid it it stabs into my ears

cut past a decade or so, to well into the war of wrath. elrond and elros are in their mid-teens now. they’re still with the fëanorians, but these days the fëanorian warband is effectively an auxiliary unit to the amanyar army, skirting around the edges of that much larger force. for the first time in a long while, elrond and elros have regular-ish contact with people outside the fëanorian sphere of influence, mostly peripheral edain and the sindar who run messages between the camps. it’s different, talking to new people

(the sky is still covered with smog, but it’s gloomy grey, not oppressive black. the sun is faintly visible through it, most of the time. the rain is much less poisonous than it used to be, and on good nights you can almost see the moon. the closer they get to angband, the darker the clouds grow)

“It is as the gods have decreed, soon the darkness will be swept away and the Enemy will be cast down

And after the war in the purified world, we will all live happily together

Building new homes in a land unmarred by evil”

the people outside the host are much more optimistic about the future, for one. the fëanorian minions are happy morgoth is getting trounced but they don’t really talk about what comes after that, like they can’t imagine a world without war. the sindar, and especially the edain, on the other hand, have all these plans about the cities they’ll build, the arts they’ll perfect, the children they’ll raise in a world without danger. elros is super into this; he barely spends time with the fëanorians any more, he’s so busy going between different edain camps, making friends, planning for the future. elrond, though...

Even my twin knows what future to reach out for...

elrond doesn’t know what to do with any of this. the very concept that someday the war will end and the sky will clear and he’ll have a bright future is still something he doesn’t fully understand. even more, he’s defined himself for so long as not-a-fëanorian, now he’s regularly interacting with people who doubtlessly aren’t he’s having trouble figuring out what else he is. he’s stuck between people who are lowkey hoping they’ll die gloriously in battle and people who have been dreaming about what they’d do in a world without darkness all their lives, and he doesn’t know what he even wants, not really, not yet

so he keeps on living, just like he always has. he’s been promoted to sick tent dogsbody and is learning how to heal with song from the last minion who can kind of still do it. he acts as a proxy between the fëanorians and the more timid outsiders they keep running into. when he goes (or elros drags him) exploring in other camps, he keeps track of every new detail he comes across, in case it’s somehow useful later

and he keeps talking to maglor, with anger and spite and sarcasm and whatever other emotion he’s covering his uncertainties with today. maglor always listens, usually offers to help, and sometimes elrond even lets him. the fëanorian camp settles into a rhythm of buildup-fight-recovery-buildup-fight-recovery, so regular it lulls elrond into complacency. he takes the future he still doesn’t quite believe in one day at a time, until suddenly the ground crumbles beneath his feet

You say it’s to ‘fulfill our ideals’ but what you mean by that is ‘to sate our bloodlust’, I know

With their blades and teeth sharpened for battle, the kinslayers broke away from the light and disappeared into the shadows

there’s a whole mountain of reasons why, as they draw near to angband, the dregs of the fëanorian host abruptly peel off from the valinorean army and vanish into the night. they know they're more effective as a stealthy shock ambush unit, they’re somewhat concerned the amanyar will turn on them the second morgoth is no longer a problem, they're making one last desperate rush for the silmarils, all that and more. it’s not the first time they’ve suddenly packed up and left before their enemies can react, probably not even the first time they’ve done it to the hosts of valinor. there’s just one little difference

Leaving us behind? Leaving you behind

they’re not taking the twins. said twins only find out about this, like, the day before they decamp. maedhros’ justification is something about them not being able to support noncombatants on the march, but the twins believe that about as much as they believe that the fëanorians are doing this for any kind of hope. elros, of course, was half-planning on leaving anyway, going off to chase his own ambitions with his new edain posse. he copes with it pretty well, relatively

but elrond’s mind goes blank. once he thought the day they let them go would be the best day of his life, but now it’s come it feels so wrong, and this horrible coldness is seeping into him. in a flash of what feels like foresight, he suddenly knows the people who raised him will never come back. how dare - why - he can’t -

with a sharp desperate burst of sound that’s a surprise to even himself, elrond lashes out a song to catch maglor

“For ten more minutes, one more week, half a year, please, let me stay with you!”

“In a year’s time, ten years’ time, a hundred years’ time, we’ll see the starlit sky together”

“What if one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight times I begged you not to go?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine of your other wishes I’ll hear”

and elrond just stops. he lets the song trail off, staring at maglor. he’s in an incredibly weird mood, with something that could almost be compassion in his eyes

there’s only one way he can find out what’s happening, elrond realises

“In that case - !”

maglor was never really demonstratively affectionate with the twins. it would never have come off as real on his part, and they wouldn’t have believed it in any case. still, he supported them. he let them trail behind them, all but cling to the backs of his legs, in those first horrible weeks when they were terrified of absolutely everything. he taught them to ride and he taught them to read, how to reinforce a blade with nothing but song and close a wound with needle and thread. on the darkest nights, when all the world was filled by the howling beasts of morgoth and the wailing of the unhallowed dead, he held them tight and flared his own fires high, a warm smoky bonfire between them and the void. he answered their questions, and told them stories

and sometimes, he tried to be kind

“Sing me a lullaby like the flat of a blade”

“Which one would you like?”

“I want to see a flower that will still bloom”

“I know just the one”

“I don’t care what kind of monster you are! Just please stay with me, for even one more tomorrow...”

“...I’m sorry”

“What do you mean?”

“You were given your name because your parents wanted you to see the stars someday”

it was easy for maglor to justify keeping the twins when they didn’t have a future. the shadow of death blotted out the sky, so why not hold them close for whatever little time they had left? no matter where they were, the void would soon claim them all

except it didn’t. in the end they were not forsaken. the sacred light came out of the west to burn away the darkness and finish the war he once thought they could never win. the hosts of the valar have gotten farther in decades than the noldor did in centuries, and soon enough they’ll cast the enemy down and release the world from his terrible maw. and then the future the free peoples dreamed of will stretch out before them, full of possibilities beyond measure

and that’s why maglor has to let them go. the magnificent people that elrond and elros are already becoming will only wither among hopeless kinslayers who have nothing left but the sword. to flourish into their full glorious selves, they need to be with people who dream, who can travel towards the future alongside the twins with light hearts and songs on their lips. maglor refuses to let his own darkness drown the last people in the world he does not hate. elrond deserves so, so much better than maglor is capable of giving him. he deserves to see the stars

hearing all that, there’s only one thing elrond can say

“You can’t even keep one miserable promise! Don’t pretend like you’re my father, kinslayer!”

and that’s the last elrond sees of maglor. the fëanorians vanish in the middle of the night, leaving elrond and elros (and about half a dozen minions who are taking their last possible chance to get out) behind. elros takes up with his edain buddies and starts making contacts and forging alliances. elrond winds up in gil-galad’s orbit, surrounded by people who are very understanding about how awful his childhood was, which just pisses him off more. he doesn’t throw tantrums or refuse to work, those aren’t luxuries he was raised with, but he spends a fair bit of time spurning every bit of sympathy and aid he’s offered and trying not to cry himself to sleep

with time, though, he finds a place. it starts with círdan, the first person who believes elrond about what his time with the fëanorians was like. then he befriends erestor, and then gil-galad starts actually respecting the way elrond feels, and then he gets officially taken on as an apprentice healer. he starts learning about his own ancestors and their peoples, and reaching out for stories he never knew could be his. as the final battle of the iron hells begins, elrond is doing... better

and soon, the hope that no one in beleriand once dreamed would be fulfilled becomes a reality

And then, as if it had never held power, the darkness was cast down...

they win the war. the armies of angband are crushed. the peaks of thangorodrim are torn down. the prisoners of the deepest pits of the iron hells are freed. the forces of evil are scattered to the four winds. morgoth, the fallen vala himself, is defeated and captured and bound with great chains, unable to ever hurt anyone again. the precious remnants of the light of the trees, the remaining two silmarils, are recovered. the dark clouds evaporate, and for the first time elrond can remember, the sky is perfectly clear. the war of the jewels is finally over

elrond has grown so much since the day he first heard that the hosts of the west had come. he still can’t quite believe it

They held a great celebration beneath a star-speckled sky I’d never seen before

“The world is saved and we are freed! Evil has been vanquished forevermore”

The triumphant voices of the generals poured out over the victory feast while the stars shone true above the happy ending

the soldiers of valinor and the people of beleriand (what’s left of them) throw a truly massive party. it’s still tinged with their grief over everything they’ve lost, but the atmosphere is primarily one of ecstatic relief. they’re alive, and they’ve come out the other side. dwarvish tailors dance with high maiar, humans who don’t remember the moon get drunk with elves who remember cuiviénen. even after the official festivities die down and people start hashing out what they want to do next, the general mood remains buoyant and cheerful. at long last, they live in a world without danger

none of it feels real to elrond. gil-galad’s talking about building a kingdom on the other side of the blue mountains, elros and his grand edain alliance are trying to bully the maiar into letting them set up on tol eressëa, and elrond feels so disconnected from it all, like he’s watching someone else’s life. he’s happy the enemy has been overcome, of course he is, but he’s not feeling the overwhelming joy everyone else is. he can’t let his guard down yet, something is still wrong -

Except he hasn’t come back, they haven’t come back, where did they go, what have they done?

The word raced around as fast as the wind, giving me an answer I never wanted to hear -

where is maglor? the fëanorians broke off to fight the war their own way, but the war is over now, where are they? they were so happy to hear that the amanyar had arrived, he can’t imagine them not thrilled to see the enemy they hated more than anything else fall. in the warm afterglow of victory, it feels like even their sins might be forgiven, and they could finally go home. they have nothing else left; why wouldn’t they take that outstretched hand?

but nobody’s so much as glimpsed their flag since some time before the final battle. elrond quietly assumes, perhaps even hopes, that they all died fighting, and yet he can’t shake the cold dread crawling up his spine

elrond has mixed feelings about the silmarils, and doesn’t particularly care to be near them. by the time the news of their theft reaches him, maedhros and maglor have already fled into the night

Still driven on by their oath, they turned their blades on their kin one last time

“And stole away the hallowed light”

Yes, that light which sank all of our lands beneath a deep dark layer of corpses and ash

all elrond sees is the aftermath, the blood sinking into the ground. it’s far from the first time he’s seen people killed, but somehow now it’s all hitting him, all at once. he sees the bodies and it knocks the breath out of him. all he can see is the dead, from finwë on down, the rotting carcasses of every last person who was slaughtered for these gems, a whole continent bleached with death. they call the silmarils the most beautiful things in the world, jewels shining with the very light of creation, but elrond can’t see it for the blood they’re dripping with

that’s the immediate thing that has his hands shaking and his breath running cold. by morning it’s had a chance to sink in a little, and -

He lied he lied he lied he lied

maglor regretted the kinslayings! elrond knows he did! it was never even something he actually said, it was obvious from the way he talked about them. every single one was a complete disaster, nothing the fëanorians ever got out of them was worth what they lost in the process, and afterwards things always got worse in ways they never expected. and maglor hated the person the kinslayings had turned him into, elrond spent enough time around him to pick up on that much! surely he’d do anything to not have to commit another one?

apparently not! apparently all that regret, all that loss, the arguments and the nightmares and the coldly determined efforts to stop them following his path, it all meant nothing! he still gave in to despair or maedhros or whatever, killed yet more people, stole from the army whose return he said was like a dream come to life, spat in the face of his last chance to go home, and vanished! gil-galad’s people were right! he really is nothing more than a monster!

the shock of it all makes something snap in elrond, whatever fragile optimism he absorbed from the people around him draining away until he feels completely hollow. hundreds of years of suffering and death, and for what?

Smeared with the blood of untold hundreds, untold thousands, untold millions of people

Did they buy us peace for even half a year, even a week, even ten minutes?

Noooooooo!

Even the very land we lived on crumbled and drowned

What was the point?! What was the point?! What was the point?!

I feel like I’m going insaaaaaaane

morgoth may have fallen, but beleriand is dead! nothing remains, not the lush green lands of the stories, or even the dessicated forests of his childhood, just desolate earth and the devouring sea. almost everywhere he’s ever known, almost everyone who lived and fought and dreamed there, are lost forever. nothing was saved, everything was destroyed, what good is a clear blue sky when there’s nothing beneath it?! how can they call this a happy ending?!

elrond can’t see any light here, all the great battles and heroic deeds seem absolutely pointless in the face of everyone and everything immolated in the endless grasping for these gems. the hosts of valinor leave the continent they shattered, the remnants of gil-galad’s people escape the raging forces of nature, and the survivors bicker and fight over resources just like the fëanorian minions elrond grew up around. the world is never going to get better, he realises. the dream of a paradise will never come true

and then one night, running a message down the craggy still-turbulent coastline, he hears a snatch of a distant, familiar voice

I can hear a voice whittled away to a weapon singing what could almost be a lullaby -

elrond leaps off the ridge and onto the rocky beach, scrambling over the uneven ground. he’s heard the rumours about where maedhros and/or maglor went - all of them, there’s dozens of them, he didn’t pay any particular heed to the ones where maglor wandered the coast, but if they were right, if he’s here -

his own voice has grown strong over the years, solid and forceful and mature. elrond screams his song into the emptiness, hoping against hope it will be heard

“What if for one more year, ten more years, a hundred more years, the shadow still reigns?”

“Then ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years, a million years later, we’ll see it fall! Isn’t that so?!”

“What if I lay out all one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-eight of the griefs I carry?”

“Then there’s one billion eight hundred million three thousand and sixty-nine days for you to live!”

“That must be it...”

the impression of a hand touching his cheek, the ghost of a smile. for a moment someone else’s voice slips into the ebb and flow of his song, a shadow reaches out to wipe the tears off his face. live, it whispers. you who i held dearest last, live

elrond’s breath catches in his throat, and the song, and the shadow, vanish. it’s just him on a forsaken beach, the only sounds the waves crashing and the gulls calling. the sky is completely overcast, the clouds dull and grey. he watches them drift along for a while, as his pulse slows down and his airways clear up. live, the word echoes in his mind

he waits until his breathing is back to normal and the churning emotions inside him have settled into a form he can handle. then he wipes his face and clambers back onto the ridge

(life. it’s not much, but it’s enough. it has to be. his home is destroyed, but he is alive; his family is broken, but he is alive. he is alive, and they want him to live, as much as he can while he still has a chance. the world he lives in will never be perfect, but he knows how to work with that)

(and besides - elros, círdan, gil-galad, erestor, the other healers, the small knot of elves of all stripes who seem determined to follow his banner. he hasn’t lost everything, not yet, and he won’t let the world take away what he has left. he’ll never abandon those he loves)

the clouds are lightening. soon the stars will be out. elrond takes a deep breath, and starts running towards his future and the person he’s going to be -

thousands of years later, a memory resurfaces

“Two million, two hundred and forty-one thousand, five hundred and thirty-nine days... Ah, yes. I know I forgot to say it earlier, but you did a very good job”

a smattering of notes are lifted by the ocean breeze. they travel inland, across the worn-down mountains, around the weathered hills, above the tangled forests, up the untamed rivers, and finally into the hidden valley

in the gardens of imladris, lord elrond hears a voice he hasn’t for millennia. a watering can slips out of his hands, and suddenly he can’t breathe

It was just another day, beneath a dark sky

The ocean and the wind roared on all around me

I wasn’t paying attention to how my tears were falling

Trying to remember a clear star-lit sky

that youthful dream of a world free from evil never came true. the shadow came back, and it kept coming back, taking his people, his friends, his family, his wife. everything they built after the defeat of morgoth has been reduced to dust by the weight of time, and every year more of it slips through his fingers. elrond doesn’t know how much more of it he can endure. he doesn’t know how much more he can lose

he chases that scrap of music all the way to the seashore

I ran down the path between the rocks and the spray following that voice I never knew why I loved

But in the end I could only stand weeping

elrond searches up and down the coast, scouring the shoreline for clues, asking the locals, listening. sometimes he hears whispers of song, long wailing lamentations that make his heart ache all the more now that he understands how that despair feels. occasionally it’s loud or consistent enough he can track it, trying to pinpoint the singer’s location in the intense storms of bitterness and grief

but he never finds anything

“You fool, he’s already gone. Like he was never there at all...”

all that’s left is a voice on the wind

15 notes · View notes

goodguydotmp3 · 4 years

Note

two questions: why don’t you like harry and do you really think harry villanized the weed video or do you think that was the people attempting to court him (azoffs)

Whew, this is a long one folx!

Why don’t you like Harry [Styles]?

Let me preface this response by saying that I’m a pretty new “fan” if one can still call me that. I got into the One Direction fandom in the summer of last year, and much of my opinions of the boys where shaped by fan reactions. After gathering more and more information however, I realized that the fandom and I were wrong about some things, and over hyping others.

Still, it wasn’t until this year that I actually broke out of the Harry-centric bubble to realize that the shady goings on where much worse than I originally thought. Add to this my realization that Harry’s music really doesn’t withstand the test of time, and that his persona is pretty Stagnant, and I’ve come to feel rather bamboozled.

Of course I know that the entire point of his PR team is to sway public opinion of him one way, and if I ate it up that was part of the plan. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. It also doesn’t mean I feel any less hurt about it. It also doesn’t mean that I like when other people fawn over him, as quite a lot of what I’m going to say has been public knowledge, and some of it before I was even a fan.

A. Music

Actually getting to a big part of the problem here, his music isn’t good. Well, not long term like I said in the preface. He doesn’t really have much of a vocal range despite being a singer for more than ten years. He does not care and acts like he does, often leading to him sounding like he’s screaming instead of singing. He’s lyrics are boring and flat, and his melodies are fine, they just don’t make up for his unmemorable lyrics. I personally think that the cause is him more heavily relying on song writers to fill in more in more, but that’s mostly because I don’t want to believe that the same person who wrote Happily and Olivia also wrote At the Dining Table and Treat People With Kindness, because that would just mean he’s getting worse or putting forth less effort.

Of course one could argue that I’m not a professional, I don’t have the necessary Jargon to correctly critique, and I’m no longer a singer so I can’t even do what he does. But to that I say fuck off. I know what sounds good! I know what I like!

Even more than that though, If you bought a product (non food), and you could only use that product for the first two weeks you bought it, you’d say it was a shit product! You’d scream from the rooftops that no one should ever buy this product because it’s crap! Well guess what? I pre-ordered Fine Line just to listen for two weeks and never pick it up again except for golden, she’s a funky tune every couple months.

Besides the test of time, there is still the subject of actual talent/listenability if you will. I feel there’s four main categories when I listen to music that makes it worth listening to

1.Amazing voice

2.Awesome lyrics

3.Funky/ cool ass melody/Beat

4.Catchy as hell

Now, a song doesn’t need to be all four, however the more they have the more likely I am to like the song. Also, I’ve said “main categories” because I’ve definitely had songs were I just through the beat drop was cool, or maybe the bridge was sick as hell, or maybe I just liked the pacing or the way the singer/singers stressed a note. Alternatively there is a sweet spot for me of super depressing lyrics but a melody/ that makes you want to dance. See: most of After Laughter by Paramore, Lola By Mika. But in general, those four usually make me love a song long term.

If it’s an album, it usually Just has to sound like it belongs on the same album/ tell a story. Like I really don’t like albums that sound like it’s just a playlist of songs personally. I should be able to listen to a song and go “oh yeah, that’s off --- album” or I didn’t like the album as a whole. An album is a bit like an outfit to me. It’s not going to be all tops, nor does it need to be monochromatic, but it does need to go together

For Example, I love Four as an album. I thought it was amazing. I still hate Spaces and Illusion. I hate both of their melodies, I don’t like the Illusion intro, I’m not to keen on those lyrics, and they’re definitely not catchy, I skip every time.

So taking that logic to Harry’s music, I think HS1 works very well as an album, almost all of the songs sound like they’re supposed to be there. And I hate every song but Kiwi. The lyrics are boring/don’t make a ton of sense, the melodies definitely don’t make up for that, he doesn’t have the range, and none of them are catchy! And then you get to Kiwi and she’s got that vibe you know? She’s a pop punk bop and I cannot fucking believe that Harry has one pop punk bop among unmemorable pop rock album.

Going to Fine line, It’s not as great as an album. There are some songs that don’t really feel like they fit? Like just going through the album, cherry doesn’t have any business being there? Like the lyrics fit sure, but what is that weird intro and outro? It probably would have been fine If the song didn’t have those two, but having them there upset the pace a bit I felt. And then there was Treat People With Kindness, which was really Jarring and doesn’t feel like it belongs on the album at all? It actually feels like it’s trying to be Kiwi - it’s loud and garish, and the lyrics are trying to be carefree, but! It just doesn’t work! TPWK sounds like Hippie music! Kiwi sounds like Brendon Urie could sing it and people would be like “good ol Panic!”. And then the album goes back down into Fine line the song, which again is Jarring because you’ve had this TPWK monstrosity right before it.

Then, looking at the overarching theme of his music, It’s whiny piss baby music He hates to take responsibility for his actions! It’s all in his lyrics! And don’t get me wrong, I love Honest lyrics, but not if the person is an asshole! LIke I fucking hate confessions by Usher specifically becasue he’s talking about how much he’s a piece of shit in the most whiny and piss baby way, making it all about him and no the people he hurt. I also really hate that one song that Zayn did with Usher and Chris Brown, because you have these awful men completely misunderstanding what it means to write a love song, and then you have Zayn at the very end all like “actually I really am in love tho…” Esp Chris browns verse! It boils down to “Hey I know I was a asshole seven billion times but I miss you tho :(“ GIRL BYE!

Harry sounds the exact same though, Except he can’t even blame himself for his own mistakes, and just wades through self pity about how the object of his affection won’t love him even though he didn’t even do anything except it wasn’t his fault and why are you still mad it wasn’t even his fault and he was young and reckless and drunk and horny. Like??? WRITE A NEW SONG TAYLOR SWIFT 2.0! There’s only so much you can repackage the same narrative before it becomes stale no Cinderella does not count keep that shit coming. And It really jumps out in his writing, even through 1d, although I will say there were some catchy beats, and awesome lines to keep him afloat back then. Although wtf was Walking in the Wind??? Choke!

Then there are the melodies I’m talking post wondee here which often give this 70’s pop rock vibe. Which fine I guess, it’s his brand, but that doesn’t make it interesting. Or new. Or fresh. Or an interesting take.

Now I completely understand relying on nostalgia to boost people’s opinion, but you could at leas have the decency to actually have good music. For Example, Miss you by Louis Tomlinson has a very distinctive pop rock feel, but it’s also an amazing song. Great lyrics, amazing voice, catchy liddle diddy that happens to be reminiscent of that 2005- 2010 punk pop/emo pop feel. Sour diesel has that like,,,basey 90s pop feel, and it fucking works with the lyrics, and of course his voice is beautiful. When Walls dropped and Lou put out that playlist of songs that were an inspiration, you can hear the influences when you listen to the album, but they’re also really good songs in their own right, with amazing lyrics, and Louis’ distinctive voice. Comparing that to Harry, it seems like he’s mostly relying on people’s nostalgia rather than actually good music.

Okay so this last point I’m making on music is a little petty but it’s been like a week and I’m still pissed about it so I’m saying it now. Someone said that Harry Styles is the best pop rock artist right now???? Just admit that you don’t listen to pop rock tf. Louis Tomlinson is right there. Brendon Urie is right there. Mika is right there. Haley Williams is right there. Janell Monae is right there. I don’t listen to a lot of pop rock lol but i feel my point has been made

B. Public Persona

He get’s so much clout! SO MUCH CLOUT! For doing the bare minimum (this is not specifically about the fandom, that’s for later)! People will write all these glowing reviews of him for him??? Being polite??? Like okay and? Just because a person is polite doesn’t mean they’re fucking Jesus??? There’s a million and one stories so i’m not fucking looking them up but there’s the pizza story and the fish story and the plane story and the snl story and the Stormzy story and the WS story on and on and on! Stop giving this man brownie points for basic human decency. “I didn’t expect him to be like that!” okay is that because of their perception of what a rock star is supposed to be like? Because in that case we need to start holding people accountable for being assholes. Or is it because he seems like an asshole. Cause valid.

I also don’t like him leaning so heavily on the queer image thing. Like! If that’s how he likes to express himself, Fine, But so much of it is just...so manufactured! And I Know I’ve heard people say oh well he wore the one rainbow on his lapel that one time or he wore the shirt or he wore the Keith Harring.

1. That Rainbow pin is sus as hell I don’t care what ya’ll say It absolutely screams set up, if he wanted to not be seen he would have not been seen

2. That goes for literally every other time. I can’t believe it’s not a set up to push a queer image. (that he profits from!)

3. If he actually did his homework on Keith Harring he’d know that the man was a predator, and he wouldn’t have worn those shirts. It seems so performative! To add to that, does he know now? If so, why isn’t he using his platform to correct his mistake? Why didn’t he come out and let people know not to buy Harring’s stuff??? He knows the pull he has! He absolutely could have been like “I’ve made a mistake, if you are looking for queer artists to support, here’s some” But he fucking doesn’t

4. To add on to that last part, It is actually sus that he gets to profit off of this queer image, and yet the only queer voices that he’s propping up are white gays. And then not even directly? Not a “queer artists, esp queer artists of color are important and need their voices boosted because they are the back bone of society” but this wink nod type of deal, where again, he mainly boosts white gays.like??? One queer black woman that doesn’t work for the Azoffs, and then a bunch of white gays. Like?? That’s not racist to anyone else???????Just me? okay.

Now from a professional point of view, it’s even worse. I’m not saying that artists can’t be campy or blurr gender lines, or imply that they ‘re queer subtly. But I think it’s fucking disrespectful to play both ends. Like, he profits off of using the queer image, all while Dancing around the subject, but then on the back end he never says that Homophobes/Transphobes aren’t allowed in his fandom. He gives this empty ass tpwk and then washes his hands of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am always upset when people who have lots of queerphobes in their fandom bullying and harassing the actual queer people never say anything to let queerphobes know they’re unwelcome (clearly money is better than morals) but for me it’s an extra kick to the gut for it to literally profit Harry to seem queer. Look at that time that gay company sold out shirts in less than an hour,because harry was wearing it and tell me people aren’t throwing money at him because they feel he’s queer.

C. Fashion

This one is a really rough one for me because this is partially what drew me into Harry in the first place. But he’s really not all that in terms of fashion. He’s expensive certainly, but sometimes, the things that are more expensive are worse. Even When He’s not looking like a grandparent out on the town, his style is very dated, and yet he gets paraded around like he’s the freshest new thing?? Like who is his team paying of for him to get that many articles about how he’s fashion’s biggest star. And the thing is, his style is even dated for the mainstream. There’s already a post about how he copies prominent pop/pop rock stars of the 70s, which means that his style is 50 years old for the mainstream. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s totally fine if you’re addicted to seventies wear. I don’t think he should be heralded as this huge fashion star if his wardrobe is this dated

Even more than that. Gucci???? The Gucci with a history of Racism?? The Gucci with the child labor??? The Gucci with the 14 hour days Gucci??? Ugly ass Gucci????? Soulja Boy don’t even fuck with Gucci no more and he fuck with Gucci since like 2007. (although that was because of the racism, not cause it’s ugly)

I think that bothers me the most though. Like it’s not enough to exploit people, you also have to be tacky ugly and expensive???? For what??? @Gucci cease to exist please.

If Harry wants to be tacky ugly and expensive, that’s of course his rights to do so! But don’t act like he’s at the very pinnacle of fashion every time he does.

I’m actually always very conflicted about that. I personally prefer a style that’s very loud and campy and avant garde but like,,,,that ain’t it. Maybe it’s something you got it or ya don’t??? Like for example Billy Porter could wear a trashbag and make it work. The expensive sweaters and the slacks? The suits? Not a good look on one Harry Styles. Maybe it’s because they’re expensive sweaters and slacks and expensive suits. What are you, Ted from accounting??? Grow up.

D. Treat People With Kindness

Ugh this is the thing that pisses me off like the second to most. This phrase is so fucking empty. You could not have made up a more corporate mandated phrase if you fucking tried. It stands for nothing! Just like him!

Let’s break it down. “Treat people with kindness” is, at face value, a call to action. It’s asking you to do something. But it doesn’t actually tell you what to do!! So it’s pretty inoffensive! You don’t actually have to change your behavior in anyway for two main reasons:

1. What the hell is Kindness??? This phrase never actually says what it is??? It’s just this short little punchy thing that assumes you know what kindness is! What if you didn’t actually know? What if you have differing ideals of what is considered kindness? I mean to my mother, Misgendering me is kindness, but I don’t think that’s kindness. To my father, not letting his children have autonomy is kindness, but I don’t find that kind. And yet they could both use that phrase and feel confident that they go around treating people with kindness. After all they cooked dinner didn’t they? They smiled at Janice from public relations didn’t they? That’s kindness right?

2. It also assumes you know what “people” are. Queer people are people. Queerphobes don’t consider queer people, people. Racists aren’t going to consider some people, people. So they can continue their harassment and dehumanization of them and still be treating people with kindness, because they never harmed actual people (to them)

E. Harry bots

Bitch?? Corporate spies?? Tf ??? That’s not weird to ya’ll ?? I think the thing that shocked me more than someone from Colombia records admitting that he manufactures the hype around people signed to Colombia, is the fact that the Fandom been knew!!!! Ya’ll been knew and ya’ll wasn’t gon tell me???????? I just found out last week wtf????????

Another thing I don’t like about them Harry bots, is it’s one thing to hype up Harry, but why tf do they need to shit on the other boys??? Is it because they’re more talented, good looking, and charming??? How about you get good!!!! I esp hate that it’s usually Louis. What is Corporate’s obsession with putting Louis down like? What a bunch of fucking weirdos?? It’s not enough to be a Harry fan and live up his ass, I gotta hate Louis too?? You lost yo damn mind. If you reading this and you a spy? Die.

F. Capitalism

Honestly that should be the end of it but here the fuck we go I guess. Now I get that there is going to be some capitalism involved when you get music, especially mainstream music, there are tones of articles out there with people who used to be in the industry telling you about how fucking awful it is, all in the pursuit of money. (Which isn’t fucking real by the way! We made it up! People out here getting traumatized! Belittled! Bullied! Married off! So some corporation can make all the money! The Imaginary Credits! That we made up! I hate it here!)

But it’s another fucking thing to participate in a capitalist system? He invested into that one sleep app, even going to do one of the voice sessions (So you could have Harry Styles themed sleep paralysis) and you pay for that! He makes money off that! It’s not enough that you buy his mediocre music or his ugly ass merch, you also have to give him money through the sleep paralysis app.

Then there was that Google Camp for Rich People Only! I don’t even want to fucking hear that it was on Climate Change oh wow all the rich people took helicopters and Yachts to a resort with manicured lawns??? To talk about how they treat the environment? That’s not at all Counter intuitive! Not at all for show! Fucking disgusting.

Oh and the Covid Shirt! Really bitch??? You need to Profit off a deadly pandemic? Are you profiting off of AIDS next you fucking bastard. And he can of course get a tax write of for his “ charitable donation” fuck off.

G. Racism

This! This is the thing that gets me the most! YA’LL CAN EXCUSE RACISM???

No, I’m not talking about the Native American Headdress thing, that was plenty despicable on it’s own, No I’m talking about the on going racism. The whole, using black people for clout and then dropping them and never returning the favor when they sing his praises thing. Specifically I’m thinking of Sis the activist, Stormzy, and Lizzo.

The Lizzo thing pisses me off the most actually. I think it’s very fucking convenient that Harry started taking interest in Lizzo after there was uproar from black fans noting his hypocrisy of performing for Pepsi (Notoriously racist) and Having BLM sticker on his guitar. So he shows up at one of her concerts dressed like a senior citizen that got lost on the way to the retirement home bathroom. She looked fucking amazing and he couldn’t put forth the effort to at least not look senile. Then there was the covering of her songs, and then there was the cuddling up with her at the awards show. Funny how I haven’t seen any interaction after the fact! And Of course everyone forgot about the Pepsi concert! Fuck all the way off!!

Also! Are we just never going to talk about the fact that he didn’t comment on the blm protests earlier this year until his team could gauge whether or not it would be profitable to do so by DATA MINING HIS FAN BASE???? And then when he actually did he got the most praise for it, truly fucking hate it here. Also when he marched with those protesters he made sure we knew it was him. There were posts flouting around everywhere on how to best cover up to make yourself completely unrecognizable should you wind up on camera or fucking worse, get attacked by the police. Funny how Close Sprouse could follow the advice and not Harry? Also supper funny how he got the hell out of dodge before things got super bad and I have not heard anything on the matter since. Guess what Harry??? We’re still out here fighting for the rights to exist! Still wanna have a photo op while our own government tries to squash us with force????? This is like that Jenner Pepsi ad but with sunglasses and a pandemic.

H. Fandom

I think I would hate him less if I didn’t have to hear about him every hour of everyday. Stop Hyping this man so much. Even after unfollowing and blocking a bunch of Harries and Larries he’s all across my dash. And twitter. And insta. KURTIS CONNER FUCKING LIKES HIM I JUST WANTED CRACK CONTENT AND NOW LOOK.

I. Conclusion.

After writing all this I think the running theme is that Harry Styles isn’t even a person, he’s a brand. I do not like or trust brands! And I definitely don’t like being advertised to! Just like It’s fake as fuck when Absolut is all about queer rights, it’s fake as fuck when Harry does it too. Just like I know Target doesn’t actually care about Black lives, I know Harry doesn’t either. People are always like “oh he’s so nice!” no! He’s polite! There’s a difference. Zayn Is a truly kind person. Liam is a truly kind person. Louis is a truly kind person. It shines though so brightly all the time, and yet people are really out here worshiping the Brand Harry Styles.

Do I think It was Harry or The Azoffs throwing Zouis under the bus.

Truly doesn’t matter! Whichever one did it, Harry was totally fine with it! Which tells me that he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He’ll go along with anything as long as it gets him to the top, and that’s fucked up on one million and one levels

#hazza curly mchazzerson #This is like 4 thousand words #Have fun #Harry Styles

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