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permanentcrossfics · 4 years

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Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room.

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with.

“Work trip? To Miami?”

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?”

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing.

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention?

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock.

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed.

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?”

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything.

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest.

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no.

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.”

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you.

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?”

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem.

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks.

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had….

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you.

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well.

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts.

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure.

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you.

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all.

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you.

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point.

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--”

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you.

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he?

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth.

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!”

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy.

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--”

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!”

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining.

“Fuck!”

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….”

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin.

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest.

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.”

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go.

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #reader insert fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #twelve hours in miami #twelve hours in miami 1 #permanentcross #permanentcross fic #original writing

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justtoarguewithyou · 3 years

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ao3 stats thingy.

thanks for the tag @wanderingbandurria :)

i will also continue this under the jump...

How many works do you have on AO3?

32 whole works, plus another three that are anonymous right now because they're part of an exchange...

What's your total AO3 word count?

195,753. oh! i just missed my anniversary: 8-22. :) i've been active in online fandom for one year.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

3 fandoms: harry potter, the mandalorian and DC's batman.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. A Surprise, to be Sure...

The Mandalorian, Modern AU: All Grogu wants is a dog...

2. Hit and Run

Harry Potter, From a Tumblr Prompt: “I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” AU

Sirius hits Remus with his car. They fall in love.

(this is my first fic!)

3. Every Day I Wake Up and It's Sunday

Harry Potter, This is a Hermione story, with lots of 90s music and random fashion trivia. I have a very tender love for this fic.

4. Every Day Patches the Night Up

Harry Potter, another Tumblr Meet Ugly Prompt: “We met each other on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame” AU Remus meets Sirius as they take a walk of shame.

5. Weightlessness, No Gravity

The Mandalorian, Din Djarin, reluctant Mand'alor, just wants off this rock.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Heck yeah! I love comments (who doesn't?). Please comment. Or send me an ask! They really make my whole day. there's a few people i know (cough @allthatsentimentalcandyfloss @mlim8 @paulamcg cough) that leave the loveliest comments, and i'm always so thrilled to see that they like something that i've written enough to tell me so. <3

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I don't really write angst. I've written sad things. Death's Silver Lining is sad, but the ending is hopeful.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

no! i don't understand leaving hate on fic either. so...please. don't.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have written one smutty thing! It's anonymous right now, so I won't link it yet, nor will i expound further, since there's a whole spreadsheet dedicated to guessing who's written what!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know! I hope not. I've worked hard on my things.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

What's your all time favorite ship?

so, i write wolfstar, bruharv, jaydick, and also hermione granger and oliver wood (which doesn't have a cute shorthand name).

but, funnily enough, my all-time favorite ship isn't one that i write. i'll read anything if it's well-written. and one of my favorite writers is very prolific in rpf (which i understand is not everyone's cup of tea). but i love this specific ship because of the way that they've written it. and i don't know anything really about these people, and i don't really want to. but i love this author's writing (if you see this, hi! yes! i'm talking about you.)

What's a WIP that you want to finish, but don't think that you ever will?

I have a few things languishing in my WIP folders that I need to get around to doing. the thing i'll probably never finish (or it's going to take me the longest) is an idea i stole from someone (they know, and they've read what i wrote them).

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue. emotions. small details.

What are your writing weaknesses?

knowing where to put a comma.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

so, @wanderingbandurria mentioned something i've never really thought about, and that's italicizing a foreign language spoken in fics. i think i might have done it some stories, and not others. but yeah, i see the point about how it others the language speakers. i did teach myself how to have a hover-text note in ao3 (desktop) so, i think i will use that more often. but it only shows up on desktop.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. (jkr is trash, and i don't support her transphobic opinions; but i am up for radicalizing and queering up her fictional world).

What is your favorite fic that you've written?

ooo. i love everything i write. is that silly?

but if you want to read something that i'm very proud of, that hasn't gotten too much traction, you can read Serenade in Blue it's about marlene mckinnon and dorcas meadows (HP Mauraders era characters that were mentioned once [twice?]) going overseas as WAACs during WWII. it's not long.

leave me a comment! ;)

#tag games #fandom questions #meet the author #justtoarguewithyou

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anextraordinarymuse · 3 years

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The Treasure Box is one of my all-time favorite episodes of Signed, Sealed, Delivered. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way, but I just ... have so many thoughts about that episode.

It's not just the flashbacks as they read the letters although that is beautiful and perfect and I'll love it forever. It's what the letters said and how that foreshadowed what would come, and told us what would be true if certain things didn't happen.

What I mean is: this episode is the most blatant example of Shane and Oliver being in love - and expressing that love through alternate or "third party" means - that we see until the first movie (Delivered For Christmas). We know that they're in love pretty much from that first dance, although I think they start planting the seed that Shane is falling in love from pretty early on. (I think that Oliver falls in love early on as well, but can't process it/struggles to identify it because he's emotionally stuck and afraid).

But here's what I think about a lot: Oliver and Shane dance to the song "And So It Goes" by Billy Joel, and in that song there's a line that says: "So I would choose to be with you, that's if the choice were mine to make, but you can make decisions too, and you can have this heart to break." The line that is italicized is the epitome of Oliver's struggle from pretty much the start of the show through the end of From Paris With Love. The song is clearly about Oliver over all - it's meant to illuminate his heart for the audience and tell us how he feels and what he's struggling with - but that line is at the heart of the matter.

Oliver is not free to choose. Well, he is, but his own moral code tells him that he's not. He believes in keeping his promises, and he's made that ultimate promise to Holly (aka marriage). If Holly had come home and said that she wanted to work on/save their marriage, Oliver would have done it. He would have done his best to honor his promise. BUT!!!!

The key truth is in that single line of lyrics: if Oliver could choose, he would choose Shane. In fact, he does choose Shane, repeatedly, and we really start to see that in The Treasure Box. Even though it starts with Oliver writing a letter to Holly, his attention doesn't stay on his wayward wife for long. By the time they start reading the letters, Oliver forgets all about Holly. Not a single flashback is about Holly. He may be sticking to the letter of the law regarding his wedding vows, but not the spirit of them.

The moment we get to the part of the letters where Jonathan proposes we're being told what's going to happen between Oliver and Shane. There are two options: either Oliver and Shane will ultimately end up together, or they won't - but the key is that even if they don't actually end up together, they'll still be in love - they'll still yearn to be together. We're told this through Katherine's words: "all we've shared have been words, but they have been good words, and true. [...] Yes. Yes, I will be your wife. Perhaps not in this life, but in your heart." This really is the moment we know that no matter what, Shane and Oliver would choose each other; Holly may legally be Oliver's wife, but Shane is the one in his heart. Which is why, even if Holly had asked to work things out it never would have worked.

Just look at this face (this moment is so intense, I wish tumblr allowed bigger gifs):

This is the moment where Oliver reads Jonathan's "Will you marry me?"

And this is Oliver's face when Shane reads, "... I will be your wife. Perhaps not in this life, but in your heart."

The Treasure Box was about Oliver and Shane being in love, but I think it was also about Oliver realizing just how in love he is - and how much he wants to be with Shane. He doesn't think about Holly once outside of writing that letter to her near the beginning- a point that's further driven home when Shane picks up his letter off the floor and says "you forgot this."

Shane knows that she's in love with Oliver. The Treasure Box isn't just about how in love they really are - it's when Oliver really allows himself to acknowledge that Shane is the person that he's been waiting for all his life.

Gosh, I just could not love this episode more.

#oliver x shane #shane x oliver #sholiver #I mean this is in my list of top five episodes #and I could probably talk about it for hours

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

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Jij Verliest - Chapter Seven: Clip 5&6

master list

...

note: I’m sorry, I’ve given up on actually making the texts. Also I didn’t italicize the texts because everytime I do, Tumblr doesn’t always get them all for whatever reason.

...

Maandag 11:52

Chat: Broerrrs + Luc

13 July, 11:52

Jens: ROBBE. IJZERMANS. What part of ‘text us about it’ did you not understand?

Robbe: Lucas. You could’ve warned me at least.

Lucas: Sorry.

Aaron: What happened to ‘Chill Jens’?

Moyo: Caps lock must’ve been on.

Jens: Caps lock was on. Didn’t feel like changing it though. It served a purpose.

Moyo: What’s going on?

Aaron: Yeah, what do VDS know that we don’t?

Lucas: Um, do you want me to tell them?

Robbe: I can��t have one blissful Monday afternoon, can I?

Aaron: Of course not, it’s Monday.

Lucas: Robbe had a *visitor* this weekend. Someone who showed up on Friday night. And didn’t leave until this morning 👀 Should my sources be correct…

Robbe: Zoë or Milan?

Lucas: My sources are confidential.

Moyo: Please tell me it was Sander.

Robbe: Yes, it was Sander.

Moyo: Thank god. Wait, are you being serious?

Jens: Yes! And *someone* forgot to tell us.

Robbe: I’m sorry, I was busy.

Aaron: Yeah, we know what you were doing all weekend.

Robbe: Cuddling and watching Harry Potter?

Moyo: You’re boring.

Robbe: Haha 🖕🏻 Sander didn’t think so. Also, who else would it be, Moyo?

Moyo: Worst case scenario? Thomas. Best case scenario? A random one nightstand.

Jens: Thomas? As if.

Moyo: That’s why it was the worst-case scenario.

Lucas: If it was Thomas, none of us would be able to stop Jens. And I’m thankful it’s not because I’m sick of his face. And my boyfriend isn’t in jail.

Aaron: Seconded.

Moyo: Third.

Jens: You guys know I almost always agree with Lucas. But I am also sick of Thomas’s face. And I would need bail money.

Robbe: Yes, I know. I have a rotten ex-boyfriend. Luckily, I have a new one that’s ten times better.

Jens: Yes. Did he explain why he was distant?

Robbe: Yes, he did and I forgive him. I would’ve forgiven him anyway, but he did explain. And we’re together now.

Jens: Good. That’s all that matters.

Robbe: So, since we all know what *I* was doing this weekend: how were all of your weekends?

Lucas: the Netherlands was fun. Got to see Isa and the girls again. Plus, Mom kept trying to force-feed Jens. She told him he was too skinny.

Jens: She said the same thing to you. Why are you singling me out?

Aaron: Amber and I went out to lunch with her mom on Sunday.

Moyo: My girlfriend’s roommates were out on Saturday night. So we ended up cooking together. The first try was a bit of a disaster, but we managed to make something good the second time.

Robbe: That’s great. I’m glad everyone had fun.

Lucas: When are we going to meet this mystery girl, Moyo? You seem smitten.

Jens: Yeah, you do. And you call me whipped. You should see you.

Robbe: But you are whipped.

Jens: I’m not denying it. But he’s also whipped.

Lucas: You are.

Moyo: When are we going to meet Sander? As your friends, he’s just as important as you are.

Robbe: I don’t know. Probably about the same time that you introduce us to Noor.

Jens: Wait, Noor is your mystery girl?

Moyo: Aaron!

Aaron: I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING. I haven’t even told Amber!

Jens: Wait, Aaron knew about this and not me? I’m offended, bro.

Lucas: I’d like to know how Robbe knew. Because if Aaron didn’t tell Amber, he didn’t tell Robbe.

Robbe: My source is confidential.

Moyo: Robbe, I hate you.

Robbe: Don’t hate me. She’s a great girl. Plus, it’s not like you two are sly. At our movie night, you two were far more comfortable than you should’ve been.

Moyo: Yeah, you’re right.

Jens: I feel like my entire world has changed.

…

Dinsdag 17:45

When Robbe had stepped into the tattoo parlor a little before 17:00, Alicia had leapt over the edge of the counter and bounced across the empty lobby. She had tackled him, nearly causing both of them to crash onto the floor, and her electric blue ponytail smacked him in the face. Robbe recoiled slightly from the accidental slap before sinking into her embrace. Once she pulled away, she bounced on her feet, looking like she might explode from excitement.

“I’m so happy to see you here again!” she said, grinning. “I was starting to worry that I would have to deal with grumpy Sander for the rest of my life.” Robbe chuckled and Alicia smiled proudly. “But I’m glad to see that you two have made up—you did make up, right? He has just seemed happier today and yesterday and I’m assuming it’s because of you.”

Robbe laughed. “Yes, we did.”

Alicia bounced again, still grinning. “That’s great! His shift is over in a few minutes…” She trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I have a feeling that you already knew that.” While Alicia continued to eye him with playful suspicion, Robbe shrugged and grinned. “Sorry, my mom always tells me that I seem strange to people who don’t know me. It’s just I’ve heard so much about you from Sander and he’s practically family so I’m pretty protective of—”

“No, it’s okay, I understand—”

As if on cue, Sander stepped out of the hallway. Even after a long day of work, his bleach-blond hair was still immaculate and pristine. Today, he was wearing another black shirt but this one had Emilie’s Tattoo Parlor printed across his chest. He looked tired, but Robbe wasn’t surprised. He had worked the early shift.

Stopping at the desk, he placed down a binder and adjusted the strap of his bag a little higher on his shoulder. Glancing up, his eyes caught Robbe talking with Alicia. As soon as he spotted them, he grinned brightly over at them, all tiredness fading from his face, and said, “Alicia, leave my boyfriend alone.” His tone was light and teasing as he crossed the room. Sander wrapped Robbe in a hug before moving towards the parlor door. “I only have him for an hour before he has to go to work.”

“Oh right,” Alicia said, smacking her head like she forgot. She grinned at Robbe, waving goodbye at the two of them. “Have a good dinner!”

“Tell Britt hi!”

Leaving the tattoo parlor, Robbe collected his bike before following Sander down a well-tuned series of turns to their destination. With one arm around Sander’s waist and the other steering his bike, Robbe felt like he was right where he was meant to. Robbe didn’t know where they were going—just to some restaurant that Robbe had to try—but he followed Sander’s gentle tugs and guidance with ease. Once they arrived at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Robbe locked his bike up and let Sander drag him inside.

Robbe didn’t know what he had been expecting from the small restaurant, but it was one of the best pizzas that he’d ever had. As soon as they walked in, the cashier recognized Sander and proceeded to tease him about taking too long to bring his boyfriend around. When the cashier brought them their pizzas, moving before Sander could get up to get them, they were hot to the touch and fresh from the oven.

As they ate their food, Sander would reach out to feed Robbe a bite of his or brush a hand on his thigh beneath the table. Every time Sander did something, paid attention to him, his heart grew three sizes. Even so early into their relationship, he felt so cared for. Robbe tried to do the same. He would reach out to hold his knee or hold Sander’s hand beneath the table. And Sander never shied away from Robbe’s touch. In fact, he seemed to blossom with it.

As they left the restaurant, hand in hand and laughing, the cashier tried to say it was on the house for their favorite customer and his boyfriend. Robbe blushed profusely at their comment and Sander merely chuckled, thanking them. As soon as the cook called the cashier’s name, Sander quickly dropped the money to cover the order (and more) into the tip jar before dragging Robbe from the restaurant.

Even though it wasn’t that long of a ride, Sander insisted on driving Robbe back to the flatshare. Their only trouble was getting Robbe’s bike in the car, but they managed to make it work by tilting it a little. The ride itself was short and relaxing. Sander drove with one hand on the wheel and the other was wrapped gently with Robbe’s hand. As he weaved through the traffic, Sander talked in vivid detail about a tattoo that he did earlier this afternoon as Robbe listened intently.

As they pulled into a stop outside the building, Robbe got curious. “Hey, Sander.”

“Yeah?” Sander asked.

“What were you thinking about, that night at the bar?” Robbe asked.

It had been a question on Robbe’s mind for a while. His thoughts of the night were abundantly clear—okay, maybe slightly buzzed—that the random stranger with an armful of tattoos who sat down next to him and offered him a smoke and gave him an impromptu therapy session was hot. As he nursed his hangover the next morning, Robbe had briefly entertained the thought of meeting him again but Robbe had thought it was an impossible feat. Seeing Sander walk in that bar less than a week later… it had felt like a sign.

One that Robbe had been simultaneously curious and terrified of.

When Sander was quiet, simply staring at the steering wheel with a small smile on his face, Robbe added, “I’m sure that it must’ve been one hell of a crappy impression.”

Sander glanced up at him with a small look of disbelief and a scoff. “What makes you think that?” Sander teased.

Robbe turned in his seat, facing Sander with a mischievous smile on his face. He placed their joined hands in his lap, running his finger over the back of his hand. “I don’t know, but if I saw a guy sitting quite dramatically on the floor—I think that was your wording,” Robbe said and Sander laughed, “and lamenting his ex-boyfriend, it wouldn’t have been the best first impression I’ve ever made.”

“I don’t know,” Sander said. He put the car in park before turning to Robbe, who was waiting impatiently beside him. Sander tugged their joined hands back into his lap before turning Robbe’s over so the palm was facing upward. Sander trailed a finger along the lines of his palm, leaving Robbe squirming in his seat. “I think you made quite the first impression.”

This time, it was Robbe’s turn to scoff. He leaned against the leather of the car, relishing in the feeling of Sander’s doodles on his palm. “You know as well as I do, I could’ve done a lot better than bitching about my ex with someone—”

“No,” Sander said, interrupting him lightly. His voice was quiet like he was having a private conversation with himself and Robbe watched on, biting down on his lip. “That wasn’t the time I meant.”

Robbe’s eyebrows pulled tight, staring at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sander’s eyes darted up to meet Robbe. He could see the panicked expression in his eyes, like he didn’t expect Robbe to hear his secret confession. Quickly, his expression shifted to nervous. A small lopsided grin formed on his lips as he tilted his head to the side. Sander’s hand fidgeted around his and Robbe twisted his hand around to grasp at Sander’s fingers.

“Sander,” Robbe said. “What is it?”

“Um,” Sander said, biting down on his lip. “Last August, I went to the bar with my roommates after a long day at work. While I was waiting for them to show up, I spotted this beautiful man standing at the bar talking with the owner like he did it every day.”

Sander’s eyes raised, catching his brown ones in an instant, and Robbe was certain his heart stopped in his chest. Him, Robbe realized. Sander had seen him before.

“Before I could work up the nerve to talk to him, to get the name of this beautiful man who turned my world upside down in an instant, his boyfriend showed up and whisked him away from me. I thought that was the end of it—that I missed my chance until…” Sander trailed off.

Robbe felt his stomach flip, nervous and excited. Bringing Sander’s hand to his mouth, Robbe placed a kiss against his knuckles. Sander followed him with a heavy gaze in his eyes and the corners of his lips quirked up nervously. “Until?” Robbe asked, his lips brushing against Sander’s knuckles.

“Until…” Sander continued. Robbe scooted closer to him—or as much as he could in the small confine of the car. He was practically leaning over the console, trying to get as close to Sander as he could. Sander glanced at Robbe nervously. “Until last month. It had been a rough few months, but I was starting to come out of it. It was my first time out of the apartment other than for work for a month and I looked over and saw the beautiful man in the bar again.”

Robbe giggled.

“As soon as I saw him, I knew that he was the one. My mother used to tell me that there was no such thing as a coincidence,” Sander said, reaching up to wipe a thumb across Robbe’s flushed cheeks. “She used to go on and on about how ‘what is meant for you won’t pass you by’—”

“Is that what the quote on your side is?” Robbe asked, quietly. Sander paused, staring at him. “I saw it on Saturday but your arm was covering most of it.”

Sander grinned. “Yes, it is. Now, back to the story—”

Robbe mumbled out a quiet ‘sorry’ and Sander gave him a stern look.

“When I saw that beautiful man for the second time, I knew that the universe was trying to give me a sign and I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. When I saw him head outside to get some air, I followed. But I only managed to learn his name before the universe ripped him away from me again.” He let out a heavy sigh and slumped his shoulders. “But, lucky for me, I managed to find him again, not even a week later, and I knew that I couldn’t let him get away from me again.”

“Wow,” Robbe said, breathless. Sander looked up at him with nervous eyes, staring at Robbe intensely. He let out a breath, reaching up to take Sander’s face in his hands. “You really saw me that long ago?”

“Yes,” Sander whispered. “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve wanted you, Robbe IJzermans… even before I knew what your name was.” His eyes scanned Robbe’s face. “Are you mad?”

Staring at Sander for a few seconds, Robbe hastily undid the seatbelt around him. He could see the worried look on Sander’s face, like Robbe was going to climb out and never look back, but Robbe simply climbed on the seat. His knees dug into the leather as Robbe leaned across the center to press a deep kiss against Sander’s lips. He clung to the strands of Sander’s icy blond hair, holding on for dear life, as Sander let out a grunt.

Since the beginning, Sander had always seen him. Whether it was last month outside the bar or last year inside the bar, Sander had seen him. He had seen Robbe in the comfort of his bed, in the disarray of a friendly gathering, desperate in a tattoo parlor, and so many moments in between. Robbe wanted Sander to see him in all of his moments and moods, just like he wanted to see all of Sander’s faces and facades. He wanted all of Sander, everything he could get them.

Sander’s words from last Friday came rushing back: Robbe IJzermans, since the moment that I first saw you, I have wanted you.

“So you’re not mad?” Sander asked, breaking their kiss.

Robbe shook his head, practically panting against Sander’s mouth. “No, I’m not mad.”

“Good,” Sander said, quietly. “I was worried you might be.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

Robbe moved to kiss Sander again. Robbe wanted to kiss him a little harder. Robbe wanted to pour every single emotion bursting out of his chest into the kiss for Sander—for Sander to taste—at the same intensity Robbe was experiencing from him. But, at the last second, Sander pulled away a mischievous smile on his lips and Robbe couldn’t help the whine. “What were you thinking the night that you first saw me outside the bar?”

Robbe chuckled. “I could only think of one thing—” Pausing, Robbe leaned forward. His knees were strained from this position, but he didn’t care. Stopping a hair away from connecting their lips fully, Sander glanced up at Robbe with a mischievous look in his eye as Robbe grinned. “—Fuuucccckkk, he’s so hot.”

Sander laughed but his laugh was muffled by Robbe’s lips pressing against his.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #jij verliest #chapter seven #sobbe #rosander #jij verliest fic #brenna writes #wtfock fanfiction #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander

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fromzerotoeuphoria · 4 years

Audio

In Which I Lose My Sanity Over a 6-Minute Audio Drama (aka my Reaction to a RinHaru Drama CD Track)

Okay so I just discovered what Drama CDs are after overindulging in RinHaru goodness on tumblr, and I came across a post from @donamoeba that had an excerpt of Track 10 of the official Free!DF Drama CD Extra Short Film titled, “Haruka’s and Rin’s Road Trip.”

And only a few lines into this thing and it’s already gOT ME LOSING MY MIND.

Haruka: You’re such a rough driver that I’m too worried to fall asleep.

Rin: Heh, speak for yourself.

Haruka: Beside…

Rin: Huh?

Haruka: This is the only time we can talk properly.

I’m actually scREECHING Haruka wanted to have some one-on-one time with Rin so they could “talk properly” just the two of them 😭😭😭

Well STRAP UP LADIES & GENTS that was only the tip of this RinHaru iceberg and I am THRIVING.

So I read the full translation thanks to @donamoeba over on Tumblr, and omg the way Haruka was so sentimental and mushy with Rin gave me so much LIFE MY STARS WERE RATTLING. Like, usually it's Rin that's the sentimental one and Haru that's all inexpressive and aloof, but this time around it was like they switched and Haru kept wanting to talk about sentimental things with Rin and 😭😭😭😭 the way I'm wrecked.

I'm going to post the full trans here and give my rinharu fangirl commentary because I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS. It's so sweet and sentimental Haruka is EVERYTHINGGG, especially when he's all sentimental with/about Rin <3

(my commentary is italicized in purple)

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Rin: There’s… still another 3 hours until we reach the training camp. You can sleep if you want, Haru.

Haruka: You’re such a rough driver that I’m too worried to fall asleep.

Rin: Heh, speak for yourself.

Haruka: Besides…

Rin: Huh?

Haruka: This is the only time we can talk properly. < I SEE YOU HARU 👀 literally so cute and sweet that Haru wants to talk with Rin properly yes babe I want that for you both too

Rin: Well… since I’ve been back in Japan, both you and I have been stuck in training camps practicing, I guess.

Haruka: It’ll be like this until the All-Japan Swimming Championships. It can’t be helped.

Rin: But what we did today is pretty crazy, huh?

Haruka: It’s not crazy, it’s free.

Rin: Haha, there he goes again.

Haruka: They all worked really hard for the high school championship.

Rin: Yeah. Since it’s the last tournament in high school.

Haruka: It reminds me of us last year.

Rin: Yeah, we were totally like that. We couldn’t tell when we were part of it then, but we were fired up, we were reckless, and it kinda makes you cry. It’s a Memorial Summer that we will never return to.

Haruka: Waxing poetry, huh…

Rin: Shut up.

Haruka: But then, that’s what we were like. < idk why but Haru saying this just makes me emo T_T He’s usually not the one to be expressively sentimental, and yet he gets like this with Rin

Rin: Yeah. It’s only been one year, but it feels like such a long time ago.

Haruka: You sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?

Rin: Nope, I’m fine. When it comes to driving technique, I’m better than you.

Haruka: Are you implying that I have better swimming techniques than you, then? < literally Rin is the only one who brings out this cheeky competitive side of Haru, like I legitimately do not remember seeing Haru get like this with any other character

Rin: That’s what we’re gonna find out at the All-Japan Championships next week, right?

Haruka: … < I wonder what he's thinking about, cuz he suddenly got all quiet thinking about the All-Japan Championships. Quiet Haru always makes me wonder what's going through his head

Rin: Are you nervous?

Haruka: If I’m nervous, I won’t sneak out in the middle of the training camp to go cheer for Rei and the others.

Rin: That’s true.

Haruka: Did you drive when you were in Sydney as well? < this is literally just a normal question but my delulu self squees at Haru asking Rin about what he did while he was away from him in Australia T_T like Haru is still curious about Rin’s time away from him

Rin: Hmm… only on my off days. What about you, Haru?

Haruka: I don’t get much of a chance to drive in Tokyo.

Rin: You live in the city, so I guess you really don’t have to.

Haruka: What is it like living in Sydney? < *squees* [see previous commentary]

Rin: It’s pretty good. I train with my friends every day, then we go eat after training.

Haruka: So you made new friends there. < J;AJKFDAKJLFJLK OMG HARU IS THAT SLIGHT JEALOUSY I'M SENSING HERE?????

Rin: Yeah. There’s David, Chris, Johann, my coach Mikhail, and many more.

Haruka: Were you able to see a sight you’ve never seen before with these friends? < LAKFKFJDKJLFSDKKLAKJSK YES IT FRIGGIN IS SLIGHT JEALOUSY I AM LIVINGGGGGGG. Haruka is highkey trumping himself over Rin's foreign friends like, "Yeah well so you've made new friends but can your new friends show you the world the way I show you the world??" I AM SCREAMING, RINHARU OTPPP

Rin: Eh? I wonder… I probably did see it, but…nothing compares to the sight I saw when swam with you and the others, I don’t think. What about you, Haru? < Yes babie tell Haru how no one compares to your friendship with him (and the others)

Haruka: Same here. < AHKSLJSFSDKFLJLFSD

Rin: Hehe. But we can’t stay this way. We can’t stay fixated on our past and be stuck in our memories, right?

Haruka: Yeah. We will move forward to the future.

Rin: Hah, you’re pretty poetic yourself, Haru.

Rin: Actually, I AM pretty tired. We got up early after all, so let’s take a break. There’s a service area around here.

Haruka: Yeah.

Rin: Let’s nap for an hour?

Haruka: Okay.

Rin: Do you know how to put down your seat?

Haruka: Right here?

Rin: Yeah.

(silence)

Haruka: This reminds me, around this time last year, we slept together like this, Rin. < AKFDSJKLFAKJFDKJLKDSFLJ I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT HARU IS THE ONE TO BRING UP HOW THEY SHARED THE BED TOGETHER IN AUSTRALIA OMG OMG THIS LITERALLY IS EVERYTHING (the reason I'm dying so much over this is because Haru isn't the type to get all sentimental, but he's really out here getting all sentimental with Rin now that they "cAn tALk pRoPeRLy" and he really brings up out of the blue their time in Australia and how they had to share the bed. It must've been a highlight in Haru's life, something he remembers fondly, especially since it was this trip with Rin that Haru discovered his dream. So for Haru to be so sentimental about it enough to bring it up on his own…*cries* ugh it's just…I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Rin: Huh? …oh you mean the hotel in Sydney?

Haruka: My whole world changed since that day. < *DECEASED*

Rin: And it will keep on changing. Yours, and mine. < HARU'S JUST OPENLY TELLING RIN HOW HIS "WHOLE WORLD CHANGED" SINCE RINHARURALIA & RIN SAYS BOTH THEIR LIVES WILL KEEP CHANGING TOGETHER I LOVE THIER RELATIONSHIP SO FRIGGIN MUCH 😭💜

Haruka: I wonder what we’ll be doing next year at this time.

Rin: Maybe we’ll be at a hotel somewhere in the world where there’s a tournament going on, and we’ll make the same mistake and end up sleeping next to each other again. < ahahahaha Rin you cheeky lil...ilysm

Haruka: Never again. < mhmm riiiiiiight Haruka, keep pretending like you don't cherish that night 😏

Rin: Hehehe.

Haruka: I want to… swim relay again. < and it's all because of Rin

Rin: Let’s swim together. But on the world stage this time! I don’t know what the team will be like, though. < YOU’RE GONNA DO IT BABES, YOU’RE GOING TO THE OLYMPICS TOGETHER 😭

Haruka: Yeah. One day, definitely. < yes babies sooner than you think!

Haruka: Rin.

Haruka: He’s asleep.

Haruka: One day, definitely, we’ll see a sight we’ve never seen before again. < yes I'm ugly crying and so are you

THE END < of my existence (:

(reposted from original blog July 25, 2020)

#AHHHSKDJSDKLFDSJK??!#THE WAY I ACTUALLY LOST MY MIND #I CANNOT HANDLE THESE TWO #SENTIMENTAL HARU IS TOO PRECIOUS #RIN MAKES HARU SENTIMENTAL #it's canon #how is rinharu NOT canon #rinharu #harurin #free!#free! iwatobi swim club #free! drama cd #free! translations #me reacting #otp #you don't know how long it took me to make this post because tumblr's text editor SUCKS #rin matsuoka #haruka nanase #free! dive to the future

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simpbur · 3 years

Note

hello! i would like ur 40 song wiblur playlist

anon thank you so much for asking <333 while it would’ve been easier to just drop the link i have so many thoughts about everything so i explained why every single song has its spot on this list which was IMMENSELY fun for me

(also: if anyone does want the link i can provide both apple music and spotify but if u would like the apple music link i’d rather it be through dms or an ask off anon that i can make private!)

another also: i bolded all the songs for ease of perusing if you don’t want the director’s commentary and bolded + italicized the ones that i think fit Very Well

another another also: wrote the second bit of this on my laptop and the keyboard is p funky so if there are any typos or things that do not make sense i will try to fix them asap haha

saint bernard by lincoln: this is one of those like. Dream SMP Songs that i added because it fits into so many different relationships and plot lines and arcs but i think there’s some connection to c!wlbur somewhere out there. idk i asked my friend and he said to add it so this one goes out to him

amnesia was her name by lemon demon: ghostbur song ghostbur song! mostly comes from this lovely animatic

o valencia! by the decemberists: okay this is one of those songs that only really has one lyric that fits but is an absolutely banger so it’s here anyway. you’ll also notice a trend of quasi love songs that i relate to c!wilbur’s perception of l’manburg and i think this song shows this in a really cool way, esp with the chorus (‘and i swear to the stars i’ll burn this whole city down’ is The Line)

achilles come down by gang of youths: another one of those Dream SMP Songs. i think this fits better with c!tommy but i like it too much to remove it. this is a somewhat common trend with the earlier songs on this playlist (i’ve been building this thing since january, for reference)

brave as a noun by ajj: another Dream SMP Song. i think certain verses fit better than others when it comes to wilbur’s character but that ones that work really work

harness your hopes by pavement: a song that is one here for vibes alone. i have no idea what these lyrics mean. all i know is that i heard it, thought of c!wilbur, and put it on the playlist. thank you all for being here

evelyn evelyn by evelyn evelyn: sad-ist made this a tommy and tubbo song (as she should) so it’s validity on this playlist is questionable but folks used to compare it to wilbur and tommy’s relationship during the pogtopia arc and i think some points were made there

the execution of all things by rilo kiley: i’m so excited to get here because this was the first song i put on the playlist that i think really works and i thumb nailed an animatic for the last verse and november 16th so! i think it’s a good l’manburg song and the last verse has some good ghostbur lines (‘and lately you’re all alone with nothing left but sleep/but sleep never comes to you, it’s the guilt and forever wakefulness of the weak’)

i’m just your problem from adventure time: this ones a bit tricky since at is my favorite show of all time and i cannot detach this song from its in-show context very well but there is a very cool animatic with this song that landed it a spot on the playlist

man burning by josh ritter: almost became an animatic but the audio i wanted to use (which i recorded at a josh ritter concert and it’s just him and his guitar and there’s echo and it’s very haunting and pretty) has my stepbrother singing in the background and i could not edit it out so. that will probably not happen. but anyways the only hole i would pick in this song is that it’s mostly about self sabotage which isn’t really applicable but i think the imagery is cool

mamma mia by abba: here me out. here me out. this is another song that fits so well and i have spent so many hours thinking about this and somewhere there is a note on my phone explaining how every single line relates to c!wilbur’s entire arc from founding l’manburg to the resurrection (made when we thought gbur was going to get resurrected in january) and just. the metaphorical ‘you’ is l’manburg does this make any sense (another almost animatic except now that wilbur’s actually back it might become an actual animatic)

the other side of paradise by glass animals: no idea why this is here other than being a Dream SMP Song. it’s good tho

infinitesimal by mother mother: they saaaaay it stared with a big bang but they saaaaaaaay it came out of a small thing latelyyyyy i’ve been feeling like a big bang You Know

curses by the crane wives: had a thing drawn out for this song showing the comparisons between c!wilbur and c!niki because of the chorus and i think the last two lyrics of said chorus are the best thing about this one

lonely eyes by the front bottoms: gotta admit that i have no idea how this song got on here but i’ve come to associate it with ghostbur based on vibes alone. it’s a friendly song he’s a friendly ghost it works. the other tfb song coming up fits a bit better methinks

king of new orleans by better than ezra: not to put better than ezra on my c!wilbur playlist but like. something about the whole ‘tasing something up to let it fall’ motif makes me think

get me away from here, i’m dying by belle and sebastian: another almost animatic song (there’s a trend here). not only does the story told in this song work i like the lines ‘play me a song to set me free/nobody writes them like they used to so it may as well be me’ in relation to my l’manburg

montgomery forever by the front bottoms: certain bits and pieces of this song fit so well, specifically the chorus and those bits in the last two choruses Yeah (’montgomery forever and ever and ever and now they’re blowing it up/(x2)/as you started laughing and crying and trying to explain how all you want to do is leave’)

don’t look back in anger by oasis: out of all my almost animatic songs, this one got the furthest. the animatic, which I got pretty far in thumbnailing, was about wilbur and tommy and kind of drawing comparisons between their characters, also about the revolution in general. maybe i’ll finish that animatic one day idk

snow by ricky montgomery: i wish i had a link for this so bad but!! saw art on twitter!! with the lyric ‘bury me six feet in snow’!! and went ahfsdjfk!!

burning pile by mother mother: a Dream SMP Song. also a jam there’s no real specific connection for this one but i think it could fit in a couple of ways

rounds by the oh hellos: in the same position as snow except it was on tumblr..... @ whoever made this comic i saw these lyrics in your brain is massive and your art is incredible

lovely by mt. eddy: on here for vibes alone. there’s something in the lyrical content too, but my thoughts in that regard are not very fleshed out

adventures in solitude by the new pornographers: ah yes..... the song that prompted this all...... this is a beautiful and incredibly well written song and if you’re going to listen to any song off of this playlist i’d encourage you to listen to this one. it’s place of here is mostly cause of the chorus but the imagery in the verses could all represent a part of c!wilbur and i’d love to explore that more

caught in the middle by paramore: obligatory paramore song. i think it got on here because limbo = ‘middle’ but i’m not quite sure. on the verge of being deleted if i can find a better pmore song

delicate by damien rice: one of the oddest songs on this list and i am well aware that it sticks out like a sore thumb. a song that’s on here pretty much because of one lyric, which is ‘and why’d you sing hallelujah/if it means nothing to you’ which i related to both eret’s betrayal and how my l’manburg is hallelujah yknow

bang! by ajr: almost animatic song. i think we all know what the bang is here

somewhere only we know by lily allen: ik i said don’t look back in anger has the most potential to get made into an animatic but this song might actually take it place. on par with adventures in solitude in terms of how pretty of a song it is, and probably even moreso. it’s kind of turned into a ghostbur song in my head, and makes me cry like an infant child every time i hear it

a pearl by mitski: i cannot defend this song’s place on here past the line ‘it’s just that i fell in love with a war and nobody told me it ended’

eight by sleeping at last: the official c!wilbur song needs a spot on here <3 if i can dig up the clip of cc!wilbur talking about this song in relation to his character i’ll add it but until then yeah <3

always by rilo kiley: no idea why this is on here but it fits well!! could not tell you why!! banger!!

celebration guns by stars: it’s a hauntingly beautiful song about war, and kind of one of those that necessarily isn’t about wilbur but moreso his place in the story? idk how to explain it but yes

passerine by the oh hellos: it’s. it’s from the . the fic. yeah h

oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place by bright eyes: added this after the real resurrection and i think it’s because fo the imagery? also the last verse

we are beautiful, we are doomed by los campesinos!: all i have to say is ‘i cannot emphasize enough that my body/is a badly designed, poorly put together vessel/harboring these diminishing, so called vital organs/i hope my heart goes first, i hope my heart goes first!’ has always made me think of pogtopia era wilbur :(

dead weight by jack stauber: no real connection other than eret played this song during a break during the ghostbur’s january ‘resurrection’ and i heard it and went :0

point me at lost lands by tired pony: gives me season on l’manburg vibes..... i love how free and passionate it sounds and that's p much the only reason it’s on this list haha

ghosting by mother mother: added this five seconds ago because i could not BELIEVE it was not on here. ghostbur song. mans sang it on that one stream with the reverb and everything. the lyrics ‘i will be kind and i’ll be sweet/if you stop staring straight through me’ hit particularly hard back when everyone thought that ghostbur was actually wilbur in disguise

#oh man. oh man #this was so fun ty anon #i'll do some spell checking after i write my english paper but for now take this #wooo boy #also if i interpreted canon wrong i do apologize i am here to have fun and think about fictional character #anon #ask

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Infinitatem Venatus

The Infinity Game

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: AngelsandDemons! AU | angst | romance | drama

Pairing: OT7 x [Reader/Layla/Saoirse]

Warnings: Strong Language, extreme angst, violence, Jin is Lucifer. Jin is the Devil. [just making sure that’s out there], religious undertones [things have been embellished/changed to fit the nature of the story]

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Firstly - there are bold and italicized phrases scattered throughout. That is meant to represent Hoseok speaking to [reader] as these moments are happening throughout the day! Second, shout out to @aroseforyoongi for requesting a drabble for the 100 follower special. If it weren’t for that drabble? I probably wouldn’t have mustered the courage to even pull this AU to Tumblr. And @moccahobi cause Hobi is a bad ass. Issa lot. Thanks to Admin E for the beta-panache! And to Admin L who wanted a saucier Devil Jin. Enjoy!

© thebiasrekkers ( Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

There was a line drawn in the sand.

Pain.

“Moloch, did you really think I’d let you have her?” Hoseok’s voice was a deep; raspy growl. A sound that you weren’t used to hearing. Not your Hobi. He couldn’t possibly sound like this. He wasn’t capable of such vehemence, right? But it was him. It was Hoseok hovering above you. His eyes blazing a fiery gold as his hands clenched and unclenched at his side. The air stirring with each flap of the large white wings protruding from his back.

The demon across from him smirked, tapping a finger against a bloodied lip. “If I knew she was the key to getting you to play with me, I’d have attempted to grab her sooner.” The sulfurous stench of the underworld was thick in the air, and it made you nauseous. Moloch’s blood-red gaze landed on you, causing you to back up just a hair more.

You didn’t care that your hands were shredded. A trickle of blood from your ears left you disoriented from the previous explosion. Hoseok snapped his fingers rapidly in front of Moloch. “Eyes here, asshole. I’m going to tell you one more fucking time, Moloch. If you risk the game, if you test me any further...I will kill you,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

Moloch looked taken aback by the words coming out of Hoseok's mouth. After a moment, he scoffed at the malevolence oozing from the archangel. “You love her.” The demon said, puzzled as a muscle ticked near Hoseok’s jaw. He looked down at you; just as bewildered at Hobi’s behavior. “I’ll be damned! You fucking love her!” Moloch pointed and howled his amusement, a devious glint sparkling in his crimson eyes. “She probably doesn’t know, does she ..Hobi?” The demon’s tone was smug.

Hoseok swallowed thickly, turning his gaze to you. “Moloch...leave before I make a scene.” Moloch held up his hands in mock defeat.

“Fine, Hoseok. Have it your way...” The large black wings spread as the demon hovered. “...you may love her, but her soul is still up for grabs. So you better let her know what’s at stake, Hoseok. The game is still afoot.” Moloch narrowed his eyes before shooting skyward with what seemed to be a mere quiver of his wings.

A game set in motion before the advent of humanity.

The scent of sulfur finally seemed to disappear as Hoseok descended. He had his back to you for a few tense, silent, moments. The wings disappeared as he turned to face you. He looked like himself, the deep brown of his eyes sad at the state of you.

“Oh, baby...” He moved toward you and you moved back. He flinched as if he was gut-punched. “Listen, I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” He held his hands up as he approached you slowly. Your eyes were wide and full of unshed tears.

“What are you, Hobi?” The first tears slid down your bruised cheek. He gasped kneeling down to wrap you up in the warmth of a honey-cinnamon scented embrace. “Why is this happening?!”

You clung to him. The only thing that you knew was safe. The only place you felt like home. You sobbed into his chest as he stroked your hair. Hoseok placed an arm under your legs, hefting you up against his chest. “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

You nodded softly, sniffling into his shoulder. He turned to see the devastation from such a minor confrontation. You didn’t notice the pressure of his fingers digging into your skin.

They can’t hurt you anymore. Because he wouldn’t let them.

There was only us in the beginning. Everything was fine. Or so we thought.

“You don’t understand what you’re saying?!” A shrill voice seemed to rattle the glass around them. A set of fierce green eyes seemed to blaze in fury. Saoirse was vibrating as she stared down someone she once thought to be her friend. “You cannot mean that. Please tell me you’re joking?” Her gaze softened slightly, a hand reaching out to the immovable object before her.

“I-I can’t, Saorise. And I am very serious about this.” Soft, gentle, and too pure for this world. Layla, eyes full of unshed tears, stood in on the other side of the line. “I love Him, Saoirse. Even with what He is - I still love him.”

Saoirse felt her heart race again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; at least that’s what had been explained to her. They were special - the Acquisitae. They were beings that carried the weight of many lives. Souls that existed rolled into one existence through time. Past lives? Deja vu? All of it flickered, bits of memory seeping into the consciousness of the current owner’s life.

There were few of them left undecided. Some refusing to be a pawn for either side; some choosing a particular side for one reason or another. But, in the rare instance, if a side was chosen, it was mainly because of hate or love.

In the scheme of things, there was nothing wrong with that. But, Saorise couldn’t fathom anyone in their right mind falling in love with Lucifer. He wanted to destroy the already tedious balance, splatter the land in chaos and strife - just because he could. “Layla, you cannot save Him. He is beyond it!”

“No one is beyond saving, Saoirse. You of all people should know that.” Layla’s demeanor cooled as the other woman flinched. “For all that you’ve done, you still were granted forgiveness for choosing to stand with the Caelestis. You made your choice. I’ve made mine.” She crossed her arms, posture straightening. “I believe I can make a difference in my own way. So until this thing comes to a head, This is goodbye. I’m with Tenebrarum. Period.”

But someone wanted more. He wanted more. None of us could understand it.

Saoirse’s mouth fell slightly agape as Layla dropped that finality. It wasn’t just about their friendship, mostly. It was about the fate of all of existence. They were in the final days and they needed to be together.

They should have been together.

The sound of cellphone ringing interrupted the heavy silence. Layla answered immediately. “Yes, Sir?”

The smoothe dulcet poison of Jin’s voice echoed into the open space. “Come to me, Layla.”

Saoirse couldn’t deny the prickles sliding against her skin at the sound of his voice. But she had enough willpower to deny the sensation.

“I’m on my way.” Layla hung up the phone, aware of the sway Jin could have on others. She turned one last glance to her friend. “Stay away from Tenebrarum - and me.” She pushed past Saoirse as a muscle clenched in her jaw.

The scent of sulfur lingered faintly in the air, causing Saoirse to wrinkle her nose. She left the building, yanking her cellphone out of her pocket. The phone seemed to barely get a full ring before a worried voice answered on the other end.

“Saoirse?” A sudden warmth filled with the scent of earth after a cleansing rain rushed over her.

“Jimin. She’s gone.” Her voice sounded weaker than she’d intended.

There was a long sigh. “Ah, love. I’m so sorry. You tried. Come home, okay? I’ll let the others know.” She could feel his disappointment on the other line.

“She thinks she loves him.” Her fingers tangled in the fiery red-gold strands of her hair. “She thinks she can help him.”

His way of thinking had always been different. But...we never thought that he would...

“It’s a part of his charm, love. It’s unfortunate, the spell that she’s under. But such is the price of those who choose him.” Jimin respected her desire to rescue her friend. He wanted her to try, because it would make the coming days easier had she come along. And now? “I don’t want you on that side of town too much longer. Please come home?”

“Yeah.” Saoirse nodded while turning to The Shard. It was one of the tallest buildings in London - home to Tenebrarum Acq. Ltd., the current residence of CEO Kim Seokjin. Only a handful knew the truth.

Hell was empty. Empty because the devils were all here.

Somewhere in the In-Between…

“Check.”

A Knight moved to capture a King. There was still a way. There was always a way out.

The opposing side chuckled while moving to a King-side castle. The King was protected with the Rook blocking the way.

They both sighed softly. “How long have we been at this?” Taehyung’s deep baritone echoed in the mystical space.

“Does it matter?” Jungkook smirked, retreating his Knight. He could swoop in to take the Rook, sure. But, losing his Knight to the King? Even he appreciated the role of smaller pieces on the game board. “Are you weary, Michael?” Jungkook crooned with his fingers clasped against his knee. “Maybe you should reconsider my offer?” He leaned forward so that the magma-lined ring flared in the depths of his dark brown eyes.

Taehyung’s nose wrinkled at the slight sulfuric odor. “Perhaps it is you that should reconsider, Samael.” The Angel was steadfast and unmoving in his conviction. “Come back to us. This is pointless.” Taehyung’s brow furrowed as he tried to reason with someone he once called Brother.

“Is it?” Jungkook’s eyes were ablaze. “We are pieces, Michael! We are nothing but showy pieces and for what?” He hissed. “To keep a world in order that thrives in disorder? LOOK AT THEM!” His hand waved to disturb the cloudy aura around them. The world flickered below.

Poverty.

Destruction.

War.

Greed.

We never thought he would Fall.

Taehyung stared at all the things that gave Jin power, establishing his reign in the mortal realm. A tear slid down his cheek without warning. Jungkook sighed, reaching forward to brush the sparkling drop away. “Hark, a tear for those who destroy themselves.” There was a fizzle against his skin - a reminder of the choice he made when he fell from Grace.

Taehyung grabbed that hand before it moved too far away. “Please. I don’t want to fight you.” Jungkook stared at the slender fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“It’s too late, Taehyung. What will be, will be.” He pulled away, leaving Taehyung’s hand hovering. “And when the time comes? I’ll make you change your mind.” Jungkook stood up, stuffing his hands into the pockets of pressed black slacks. That fiery ring flared in the center of his eyes as he walked away,his form disappearing into the thick hanging mist.

Taehyung watched the path for a few minutes before lowering his hand. His eyes wandered to the board locked in a stalemate. A deep inhale had his nostrils flaring before he slammed his fist against the board.

Smashing it, and the table, in two.

The balance has always tipped more one way than the other.

It was a stupid comparison, after all. Life being a chess game. Because while you could sacrifice plastic pieces, it was something far riskier to sacrifice pieces of flesh and blood.

Even heavier a price should this game be lost.

All the things you know about the Final Days are absolutely true.

Winter receded, leaving all the auction houses hungry to get into their season. Famous artists settled their wares, antique rarities were whispered among certain circles and the buys were ready to redecorate. The competition was fierce between all the art brokers. But none more fierce than the lasting feud between two of the oldest brokerages.

Caelestis Wares and Tenebrarum Acq. Ltd.

It was always a spectacle when the two vied for valuable pieces.

A lucrative one.

There were members of each auction house that were known to cause a scene. Imagine the hint of blood lust in the air when those two members were in attendance. The auction was abuzz because they were in attendance at the same time.

“Did you see them?” An overly-jeweled socialite purred to her circle of friends. A flutter of fans attempted to dry beads of sweat pooling atop their skin. “I don’t think I plan to do anything but watch.” Her eyes were wide and lust-blown.

The group of women swallowed thickly as their eyes hit the left side corner of the room. Kim Namjoon was one of the most seasoned brokers at Tenebrarum. He wore a suit of gray tweed that tucked and cut against his form. A lighter turtle neck stretched against a broad chest. A pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. The silvery blonde of his hair was smoothed at the sides, settling against the collar of his jacket. His arms crossed, causing the fabric to stretch against the push of his biceps. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips as he spoke.

All the things you hear about the Supernatural? They’re real too.

They couldn’t hear what was being said, but they knew who it was being said to. One of the women let a small whine slip as they ogled his conversation partner.

Min Yoongi.

Yoongi stood a hair shorter than Namjoon. Even so, he still gave off an air of unmistakable authority. He wasn’t just the head broker of Caelestis Wares. He was the current CEO. There were a few rare pieces that both houses had their eyes on.

The whole room buzzed over which item it could be, let alone the monetary bloodbath that would ensue for either to acquire it. The prospect was more exciting than anything they would bid on later.

“Gabriel, it’s been a while since you’ve left the roost.” Namjoon tilted his gaze to Yoongi. “It warms my heart to see you using those old legs of yours.” There was that magma-lined flare in the depths of his eyes. “Things really are getting tight if you’ve come out.”

There was a weary sigh from Yoongi as he fingered the button on the black jacket he wore. A white button-down worn underneath, paired with pressed slacks. The clinking of rings against his fingers were audible as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You still have a big mouth, Mammon.” A side-long glance was given to the taller demon. Yoongi scoffed. “And you’re still expensive.”

Namjoon’s brow rose as he looked over his outfit. “Come now, Gabriel. You should know that these things are about status and expense. I must look the part, after all.” He placed a gentle hand over his heart - at least where his heart should be. “It’s all about playing the game, no?”

Nothing is safe from the Apocalypse. Everybody is choosing a side or being bribed into making a choice.

There was no mirth to be found in Yoongi’s narrowed gaze. “Namjoon, there’s going to come a day...” A muscle ticked near his jaw as he bit back his words.

“Oh, I’m aware, Yoongi. If I have my way...” He pushed off the wall to lean a hair closer to Yoongi. “...it will be pretty soon.” He patted Yoongi on the shoulder as he side-stepped away. “Good luck today.”

Yoongi watched Namjoon strut into the circle of women that had been staring them down. He rolled his eyes as one woman looked ready to melt to the floor. The vibration of his phone gave him a reason to step out of the room.

His brow furrowed as he saw Jimin’s name flash on the caller ID. He picked up and didn’t get a chance to greet the younger. “We lost her, Gabriel.” The sadness was palpable in his voice. “Saoirse tried to convince her, and she said she loved him. She doesn’t understand--”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, cutting him off with a heavy sigh. “Breathe, Uriel.” There was a shuddering sound that slid into a soft sniffle. “We knew there was a chance for failure. We’ll figure it out, Jimin. Alright?” There was a sound of words that wanted to be spoken, but ultimately were held back.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi.” The remorse in Jimin’s tone only grated on his nerves. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. No one but his own.

“It’s ok, Jimin. Take care of Saoirse. We’ll regroup tonight.” A tone sounded to notify guests the auction was starting. “Look, I’ll be a little late tonight. Get everyone caught up and I’ll get there when I can.”

The tone sounded again. “Who is it, Yoongi?”

He gritted his teeth as a long silence followed. He considered whether he needed to answer. “It’s Namjoon.”

There was a hiss on the other end. “Shouldn’t we-”

“NO!” He flinched at the volume of his own voice. “No. I’ll be fine. Do as I asked. I’ll keep in touch.”

“As you wish. Good luck.”

The call disconnected.

It’s just that some of you are worth far more than you realize.

Yoongi rolled his head back against the throb in his skull. “Stubborn woman. So, g’damned stubborn.”

He stared at Layla’s contact fighting the urge to call her. The third tone sounded forcing him to let it go - for now. He walked into the auction space, his eyes landing on an 18th-century suspension lamp. It was rumored to be used by a pious man who made a deal to lend his soul to the benefit of Heaven. Remnants of his blood mixed in the oil kept demons at bay. A powerful relic that needed to not be in the hands of Tenebrarum.

He sat on the opposite side of the room from Namjoon. The auctioneer’s smile grew as he realized what was about to happen. They wheeled the suspension lamp to the front. “The first item up for bid, ladies and gentlemen, is an 18th-century suspension lamp from Italy. We’ll start the bidding at one hundred thousand dollars.”

Namjoon and Yoongi raised their paddles at the same time.

So what are we? What are the Acquisitae?

Layla arrived at the top floor exhaling softly before tapping softly on the large double doors of its current CEO.

“Enter,” came the smooth, buttery, poisonous silk of Kim Seokjin’s voice.

She pushed inside to catch him leaning, lazily, against the massive blackwood desk. The perfect petal pink of his lips tilted upward.

“Do you need something, Sir?” A brow arched as she closed the door behind her.

A long finger crooked in her direction, beckoning her to come closer to him. “I need you, Layla.” She stepped closer as his finger tucked under the point of her chin. “I need you to stay away from Calestis Wares.” The other hand slid into the niche of her waist, pulling her against his taller frame. Her lashes fluttered shut as a breath slid quietly from between her lips. “You’ve made your choice, haven’t you?” His lips hovered over the apple of her cheeks.

“Yes, Jin.” She had long gone nose blind to the scent of sulfur that surrounded the infernals. Being around Jin, in the beginning, caused her eyes to water. He gave off the strongest scent and she pushed through. Forced herself to endure, and now? “I told them I’ve chosen my path willingly. You don’t have to worry.”

You are precious. You are the key to saving all of existence.

Jin smirked as she tilted her head, exposing the tender flesh of her neck. His breath was like a handheld blow dryer focused in one spot too long. She flinched, and endured, as he purposely caused her discomfort. The fiery-red ring flared in his gaze and he managed to keep his irritation at bay. He watched as her skin reddened from exposure to the heat. “You really have chosen me, haven’t you?” The smile was lazy as he released her.

Layla’s fingers clenched into the fabric of her pencil skirt. The closer one stood to Jin, the more prone to loss of control. She gave another heavy swallow as she nodded rapidly. “Y-Yes, Jin.”

“I knew you were smart, Layla.” He clasped his hands together against his leg. Her eyes widened at the black nails and silver rings adorning his fingers. “Maybe you can help them be smart too, hm?” Layla looked up, confused. Seokjin smiled and he seemed too radiant. Her gaze lowered to the floor as he continued. “Why don’t you invite your friend, Saoirse?” A brow arched as her gaze whipped upward.

“Excuse me?” A breathless sound pushed from between her lips.

“Saoirse isn’t so saintly, we know this. I mean she used to…” Layla cleared her throat before Seokjin finished his sentence. He smirked at her sentimentalism. “...you know what she used to do, Layla. Doesn’t it make you curious why they even let her stay? All the sins that have permeated her whole life. I wouldn’t judge her. I feel like she could be who she really is here.” Liar. Snake-oil salesman. Seducer. It was all true. Jin was all of these things and his good looks were the nail in the convincing coffin that he backed many people into.

“I won’t do that, Jin.” Layla swayed on her heels before shaking her head. “I agreed to work for you. I have my own agenda and it doesn’t involve sharing.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

“Oh ho! Is that jealousy I smell?” He pushed off the desk with a flare of nostrils. “I like this scent on you. Maybe I’ll pull her in myself?” He loomed over her with hellfire blazing in his eyes. “Because last I checked, I was the one in charge.”

Layla’s posture straightened with no signs of backing down. “I know you’re in charge. I remember who you are, Lucifer, The Morning Star,” she spat, “and if you think I’ll let you hurt her, you do not know me very well.”

You are the key to saving us.

Seokjin clenched his hand at his side as she smirked up at him. “Go ahead. If that’s the best you can do to assert your will.” The red in his eyes turned an abyssal black that swallowed the whites of his eyes. “You realize it now, don’t you?” Her head nodded as he remained quiet. “It’s different when we submit of our own free will.” She smiled, magnificent, triumphant that her theory had proven correct. “We are on equal footing, Seokjin.”

Her phone buzzed. She retrieved it from her pocket with a soft sigh. “Your two o’clock is early. You should do something about your temper.” She turned on her heel and left his office. Letting the air hiss from her lungs as she practically jogged toward the elevator.

Seokjin stared at the door in utter silence. Others came to him with very little need to flex his powers of persuasion. But when Layla came to him from Caelestis, he was eager to get his talons into Yoongi’s most prized possession. Now he realized something he hadn’t before - and now he wanted to corrupt her even more.

His blood was running hot at the thought of the next Spring Gala. A plume of smoke slithered through his nostrils as he chuckled. He turned to check his reflection in the mirror. If you thought about some of the most favored songs in all of history that were named after a woman, you’d tend to wonder what sway that person had on the songwriter, right?

Seokjin chuckled, as he hummed that old Eric Clapton classic. “Laayyyla, you got me on my knees - Layla.” He adjusted his tie in the mirror, a full bright smile spreading across his face. “I’m begging darlin’ please, Layla…”

He whistled as he settled into the leather wingback behind his desk. “...darlin’ won’t you ease my worried mind?” The door clicked as Layla entered again and he clasped his fingers on his desk.

“Mr. Kim, your two o’clock is here.”

You listened to Hoseok explain what was at stake. He spoke of the real world and the creatures that existed just in the shadows. He brought all your nightmares to life and then said that some were fighting on your side.

Jimin and Saoirse showed up almost an hour after you. Luckily, you had a shower, a drink, and Hobi fretting over you for every breath you took.

Saoirse kept eyeing a bottle of whiskey, an internal struggle visible in the shaking of her eyes. She opted to stay next to you, especially after retelling her meeting with Layla earlier. The two of you watched Jimin and Hoseok in the kitchen, deep in quiet conversation.

“Does she know?” Jimin asked, pouring a cup of coffee. Hoseok stared off into space before Jimin spoke again. “Raguel. Does. She. Know?” A muscle ticked in his jaw as Hobi nodded, his shoulders sagging. “What happened?”

Hoseok let a trembling hand settle over his eyes. “Moloch.” Jimin’s wide-eyed gaze turned to him.

“Wait. Moloch came for her?” Jimin managed to keep his voice down.

Hoseok nodded, the exhaustion apparent as he leaned against the counter. “We leveled half a neighborhood, Jimin. He was dead set on leaving with her in any condition.” They slid a glance over to the ladies hugging on the couch. Jimin noted the purple-yellow bruises on your shoulder and a bandaged ankle.

The kettle was placed back on the stove before turning to Hoseok. “Yoongi is at the auction with Namjoon. Layla willingly gave herself up to Seokjin.” A bitter smile formed as he leaned next to Hoseok. “Things went from bad to worse, yeah?”

Hoseok’s eyes were on you this whole time. “I’m not giving up on her, Jimin.” They both looked over to the two trying to find reasons to smile. You held Saoirse through a sob as she fought not to sink into her old habits.

“I’m not giving up either, Hobi.” Jimin placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. They picked up steaming mugs of coffee to join the two in the living room. Hoseok sighed deeply, trying to feign a smile for you. “And now, I’ll tell you who We are.”

#bangtanscenery #bangtanscenerycollab #btswriterscollective #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #bts ot7 x reader #bts ot7 fanfiction #angels and demons au #heaven and hell au #biasrekkers #bts ot7 x oc #bts fanfiction #thebiasrekkers

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kaahaani · 4 years

Note

Omg I have so many good things to say about the last chapter of TPC there's no way this is fitting all into one message! Okay so first of all, grinned like an idiot when you said you said you thought of me while writing the LG & JY bit! ♥ You're the sweetest and the bromance is the greatest :') speaking of the bromance, omg you delivered in ways I couldn't even anticipate! Literally dying over how cute the drunk duo were!! And all I can think of now is the first time this happened haha (Part 1)

[Ask Continued, Parts 2 -5]

Lady Noh must have been freaking out looking for the King and his Unbreakable Sword because I bet she was used to LG sneaking out as he pleased, but JY was probably always on her side with the disapproval, but then she must have had a heart attack when she saw them drunk and acting like idiots LMAO and LG omg okay when he knelt down in front of her to feel the babies kicking in public! Nearly wept while reading that! It's so in character for him and I can totally see the headlines already of the King breaking protocol like that if anybody actually managed to see them lol his doting over pregnant Tae-Eul is the cutest and I'm just so happy he's finally getting a family again :') and I love love /love/ how your fics have Tae-Eul acknowledge how lonely he must have been for so long and I just adore how she actively recognizes and tries to make up for it now by being there for him and giving him the affection he craves! Also, drunk LG is INCREDIBLE and just how I imagined him! I don't know if you've seen Legend of the Blue Sea, but there's a scene in there where Lee Min-Ho's character gets drunk and I swear with your writing, I could basically imagine the LG version of that and it felt like something LMH would act out! Him feeling guilty over breaking his promise to Tae-Eul while drunk was so cute and in character, but favourite moments from this chapter were definitely the line about Kang Shin-Jae because you just know this adorable, ridiculous man would end up spilling everything he's thinking while drunk LMAO and the bit about him not wanting his kids to be Liberal Arts Majors!! So in character for LG and definitely made me snort haha also him immediately cuddling Tae-Eul once he's up, even though he's feeling terrible and she's teasing him made me smile so much! You can just tell how happy he is to finally have her around after staring at her ID for so long and our soft boy finally has somebody who loves him without any exceptions and he's not afraid that she's plotting to hurt him :') okay I think I'm done for now and I'm so sorry for the inbox spam! But just wanted to know how much I loved the new chapter! ♥ It was so amazing as always and I can't wait to read the next one!

____________________________________________________________________

@anastasiaromanovas

Okay, first of all, YOU ARE AMAZING. This is so sweet! I can’t believe you spent so much time on telling me exactly what you liked and thought. Reviews/comments like this make it so much more rewarding to write.

I know you love the LG-JY bromance so of course I thought of you! HAAAAA, I LOVE THEM DRUNK! Like I NEED to see them act that scene out, I’ll pay to produce it hahaha. LOL, Lady Noh is probably like “I don’t know how this Kingdom functions with these children in charge.” I think the first time she found them they were both passed out from drinking so much. I can imagine the glares, especially at Yeong because like you said, she probably feels like he’s on her side!

Awwww, I am smiling reading about you gushing over how he knelt in front of her to feel the babies kick! Like yes, he’s so soft with them and deserves all the happiness *cries* This is why the NATION IS OBSESSED.

Ah, glad you noticed that one little paragraph about her wanting to make sure he felt loved! From the moment Lady Noh asked PM Koo if LG “cried in front of her” I could imagine Tae-Eul being like the only person he would be truly vulnerable with and I can see her making sure that he feels loved! Even when she didn’t believe him she seemed so taken aback by the fact that he lost both of his parents! I LIVE FOR HER BEING AFFECTIONATE WITH HIM.

Okay, so the drunk LG was partly inspired by Legend of the Blue Sea (I watched it and LOVED that part and like LMH looks SO hot in it?!) because LMH acting drunk is an ABSOLUTE MOOD. Like obviously he’d be super affectionate and hate on KSJ while drunk, I need to see this for real *cries in want*

The italicized part – you hit me in the feels so hard with that part. Literally. Omg, yes, he’s likely over the moon that he has her. Like she’s the only person that doesn’t have to follow rules around him, I remember his I missed it comment when he returns to the Republic with JY who is surprised by the way she treats him.

WHY ARE OUR FEELS SO STRONG WITH THIS COUPLE OMG. I literally just decided to not straighten my hair and go on Tumblr instead.

#replies #things that make me happy #the king eternal monarch #tkem #anastasiaromanovas #fanfic: the pregnancy chronicles

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dyadsaber · 4 years

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A New Reylo Shipper Reads the TFA Novelization Part 3: In which I Have Squishy Feelings About Rey Being Taken Care Of, and The Dyad Meeting Each Other Makes Me Capslock a Lot

One of the fun things about reading this novel was discovering all of the little differences that hadn’t been all over tumblr. Not that I minded being spoiled. All of those “I should be afraid of YOU” snarky Kylo Ren gifsets brought me great joy. But you know what I didn’t know going in? That Unkar Plutt was supposed to catch up with Rey at Maz’s place, and when he’s about to turn her over to the first order, Chewie shows up and RIPS HIS ARMS OFF.

I get that they likely cut it for time, but it was just really a gratifying scene to read, and I am 100% here for Rey being witness to the fact that there are people in her corner who will rip the arms off of those who would use her and hurt her.

And then we get to the scene where Rey finds the legacy lightsaber and OH BOY.

So Finn just decided to leave for “as far away from the First Order as one can get,” and here’s Rey’s PoV:

“Under the weight of her loneliness Han’s voice seemed to fade, and Maz Kanata’s as well, until there was nothing surrounding her but a silence as deep and profound as the distant reaches of space itself. Then something came, stealthy and unidentifiable, to fill it.”

Part of this is her own individual connection to the Force , but reading backwards, part of this could definitely be her connection to Ben through their dyad bond, because she isn’t alone, neither of them are, even if they don’t know it yet. They always had each other, and no, I didn’t cry a lot at those panels of young Rey from The Rise of Kylo Ren, WHY ARE YOU ASKING???

And then, in the MIDDLE of the flurry of things she sees/hears, THIS HAPPENS…

“Someone, somewhere, somewhen, spoke her name. “Hello? Wreathed in the irrationality of the moment, she called hopefully, but received no answer. A boy appeared at the end of the hallway.”

It was in this moment that I screamed at my kindle, in my best Kylo voice, “WHAT BOY???” No really did she see a much younger version of Ben here? My personal answer from now on is YES SHE DID.

I remember a whole lot of talk a couple of months ago about the following two “I’ll come back for you” lines, and about JJ Abrams confirming who said them, but all I can find now is speculation from before TRoS came out, and that is NOT HELPING ME REMEMBER. If you have a link to the article/interview where Abrams or anyone else clarifies this, please @ me.

She’s seeing Starkiller from the future, here, and I think that’s telling. Because after describing all of the noise of battle, we get…

“Then behind her, another voice. That voice. “Stay here. I’ll come back for you.”

“That” is actually italicized in the text, which means that it’s a voice Rey hears enough to recognize and give importance to it, but WHOSE VOICE? I mean I know that it was left vague intentionally here because ADF didn’t know whose voice it was supposed to be, and neither did anyone else, but the vagueness makes it COMPLETELY possible that this was Ben, and that she’s been hearing little fragments from him for years. This line, though, raises questions that I don’t think anyone at DLF thought about as hard as we are now, but the idea of this being WBW Ben telling her to wait for him because he’s trying to get back to her GIVES ME A LOT OF FEELINGS EVEN IF IT IS NEVER GOING TO BE CANON. (I’m from the school of “canon can go jump in a lava pit if it doesn’t respect the fans or the characters” so I’m an old hand at reimagining things shitty creators screwed up.)

In between this scene and the one where dyad finally sees each other for the first time, we get:

An incredibly frustrating tease of a line from Maz about how she acquired the lightsaber. I want a whole comic about how that thing fell into her hands. TAKE MY MONEY, DLF.

Leia feeling the Hosnian system being destroyed, thinking about Alderaan, and making me very very upset in ways that aren’t fun to read or write about, so…

On to the first meeting! Mostly, I got really sarcastic in my kindle notes at this point.

Rey sees Kylo Ren from a distance for the first time.

“She had seen this man before, in a daydream. In a nightmare.”

...in the weird Force-induced version she just experienced not fifteen minutes ago…

Also, what happened to Rey back at Maz’s place is NOT something I would describe as a daydream, which can only lead me to wonder about but having random “Wtf where did that come from” daydreams about Ben “I am in FULL KYLO COSTUME” Solo in the middle of scavenging a Star Destroyer, shrugging it off as her mind playing tricks on her, and going about her day. Someone PLEASE draw this. (I know this is a reach and I’m nitpicking at less than awesome writing, but it’s day I don’t even know what of quarantine, and this is how I’m making my own fun.)

And the first time he becomes aware of her…

“Sir, we’re still searching for Solo, but the droid that’s wanted was spotted heading west, with a girl.” At this Ren said nothing, but instead looked sharply in the indicated direction.

“WhAT gIrL” - Kylo Ren at this point definitely

“Each shot from her blaster he deflected with the lightsaber’s beam. Almost as if it were a game, she thought in terror as she continued to fire. He was playing with her.”

“Let's see what you can do, Scavenger”. - Kylo Ren playing with the dyad partner he doesn't know he has yet IN THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE. Typical.

“When he finally spoke, he sounded at once impressed and surprised.”

Ben Solo begins as he means to go on... She is constantly impressing and surprising him.

“So afraid,” he murmured. “Yet I should be the one who should be scared. You shot first. You speak of the Order as if it were barbaric. And yet, it is I who was forced to defend myself against you.”

“Wow you’re SCARED?” he says, looming in black, waving his red lightsaber around, and using the Force to control her…

“Something.” He sounded mystified. “There is something…Who are you?”

She’s a Force user, what you’re feeling is your Force bond, and she's your other half, Kylo my guylo. Get it together, jeez…

“Is it true, then? You’re nothing special after all? You’re just a—Jakku scavenger?”

Keep telling yourself that, KR - Love, Your Future Self

And then there’s this Rey PoV that breaks me a little…

“She’d tried to keep her mind blank, her memory locked, and still he had wormed his way in. He touched her anew. This time the pain of trying to stave him off brought tears streaming down her face.”

I think Daisy gets this across in her performance her really well, but being reminded so starkly of the fact that what he’s doing when he roots around in her memories HURTS HER drew me up short when I read this. I headcanon that this is one of the things Ben spends a lot of time apologizing for later because he feels so guilty about it.

But before I can get too wrapped up in Ben Solo’s occasionally crushing guilt, we have THIS delicious dose of irony: (He’s talking about her affection for Finn, here…)

He drew back slightly, bemused. “You’ve even begun to care for him. A weakness, such distractions.”

YOU HAVE NO IDEA, DO YOU, SIR… COME TALK TO ME WHEN YOU’RE CUTTING YOUR MENTOR IN HALF INSTEAD OF HURTING HER, OK?

And finally… just because the visual of this cracks me up… the novel implies that Kylo Ren let Rey DROP TO THE GROUND when he force-whammied her, instead of catching her like he does on screen. My proof (this is PoV of some random First Order officer):

At a gesture from Ren the young woman standing before him collapsed. [...] He had no wish to join the woman on the ground in a state of oblivion.

WHAT A CAD! Not CATCHING the woman you just made PASS OUT with the Force? Bad form, KR. (Movie Kylo is a gentleman and keeps her from hitting the floor. A++ “not as much of jerk as you could have been” moment.)

And that seems like a good stopping place for Part 3. Next time: I scream about Han and Leia’s characterization as parents and try to defend one of my oldest ships from the outright character assassination this novelization engages in. Also, there’s some scene with Rey in an interrogation chair thingy and Kylo taking his mask off. I had some thoughts.

#reylo #tfa novelization #the force awakens novelization #dyadsaber text posts

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lcnguor · 4 years

Text

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: Mik Age: 26 Contact: IM, discord, smoke signal, whatever.

Character(s) I rp: Nora, Spike. Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Nora, most likely Current Fandom(s): Fandomless Fandom(s) you have an AU for: pretty much everything I find around and hop on. My language(s): spanish, english. Themes I’m interested in for rp: Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: modern without supernatural, I do have some fantasy set up but eh.

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?: YES / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?: YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?: 24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?: IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting: ask, IM, discord, singing telegram, smoke signals, messeger pidgeos -- whatever dude. I will most likely talk and ramble a lot, I do like plotting and I squeeze my brains out to think in ways to rp with ppl. and I really suck at approaching others. really...

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner: Ideas and somewhat more enthusiasm than me. I tend to shy away or feel very much awkward right off the bat if the person approaches me with not much to say or give. And honestly, some people really intimidate me because I am too hard on myself, so giving a bit of a pat on the back makes me relax more. I deal with a lot of anxiety and I know people run away the second I show it.

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?: Mostly when I am doing the talk or coming with ideas or looking generally more interested. It takes effort for me to get on things and actually do stuff but if it’s not the other way around I end up thinking they got bored of me. I am one hell of insecure person. As for what I do, if after many tries of trying to reach another person and end up feeling rejected or ignored, then ... I stop. What’s the point of insisting if the other person would just be awkward or not spare you a word?

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?: well, I usually ask first what the other thinks or have in mind, if nothing, I either suggest or start brainstorming with the other person. I know some who have dealt with me at first I seem like a dettached person but not having ideas really makes me feel like I have not much right to talk. I want to give yet without impossing or letting it twist my arm. I know for a fact nora’s lore really doesn’t help shit for most things.

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if the thread was meaningful and we were really into it , then I would ask but as for the most, I don’t really bother with it. Sometimes people just lose muse, and even if I was enjoying it, I don’t have the right to force someone or ask why they stopped. thread dropping is normal, i guess. - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?: whatever they want. telling me or not is up to them, I don’t really mind. RP is not something SUPER serious like it should be just perfect. I try to convice myself of this a lot.

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?: either because it was old as fuck, I couldn’t find muse or because it was lost in the void of tumblr’s amazing tracking system. - Will you tell your partner?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you? YES / NO. - And why?: if I do not have some idea of who am i rping with and what they have in mind, then it’s nearly impossible. being purely IC is really uncomfortable and could lead to a lot of misundertandings. - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?: yeah. mostly yeah -- I mean, I will feel bad, I do have feelings, but I will take it with water. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way? YES ( but I will feel bad anyways ) / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?: connect with others, ramble a lot about characters, have fun. I’ve been rping since i was 12 ( back then it was not big deal your age apparently ) and having to connect with other people by making these plots and stories and just having a fun time is something that brings me joy. There’s so much that can be done. And exploring my muses with other muses influences is really helpful to fill the holes left due indecisiveness.

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios: I wish people joined my lore more. Having muses that could be in the same story department as Nora in particular, would be hella and inspire me more. There is so much I have. Explore nora’s power is also something I want but it’s hard -- it’s very invasive and not many would really like it, feeling it’s meta. For now, I don’t really have other muses and Spike has her little crew outside tumblr.

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore: umm, it’s hard to think in something in particular. But mostly stuff that collides with nora’s story/character. but there is a lot I am willing to explore.

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: casual starters are my fab. It’s easier to figure out how to go or stop and think. plotted ones also work. as for what I dislike or cannot work with, things that force my muse to not act how they would? not giving me something solid is hard to handle.

What type of characters catch your interest the most?: I really like out of the norm muses, something that you see and say /oh , look at that/. Aesthetically, story wise or personality wise, something that goes out the usual troup most would use. I do have a guilty pleasure for opposite to my muse characters --- something that would really show the contrast with one another.

What type of characters catch your interest the least?: Very basic ones? or those who try TOO hard to be special. A character that doesn’t fit in the context they are in, esp. in fandoms. HEAVILY divergent characters that just basically turn them into OCs. I know I sound like a bitch but I am the type who respect canon and the actual author behind the character too much. Also those that I don’t know much about? as in, the fandom never managed to catch my interest or smth in that line.

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?: I know where is the line between fiction and reality. And that what your character does it does not reflect as the person you actually are. I am pretty laid back and I understand people’s views and reasoning. idk. I draw a lot if I am super invested ?

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: I am super sporadic and can go from being super active to flat out dead for weeks. my mood swings a lot with the amount of attention I get, as horrible as it sounds. I am very anxious as a person for reasons ( not IRL mostly, just bad experience from previous partners ). I promise a lot but do little? honestly I will just bad mouth myself if I keep writing this.

Do you rp smut?: YES ( tho mostly on discord ) / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?: YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?: both? - Anything you would not want to rp there?: ehhhh, idk -- i don’t do as much to know what I don’t like here.

Are ships important to you?: YES / NO / RELATIVE. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?: YES / NO. Do you use read more?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?: the very nature of human relations. I am talking about Nora big time here -- there is a lot to explore in her relations and how she reacts and acts towards someone is very very contextual. How much she fakes, how much she is sincere, how much she struggles or how relaxed can be. force her to show her real self, which is very hazy even for her as a task. Be very poetic deep and also very shallow. I particulary see her as a character that REALLY depends on her relation with the other muse -- but generally speaking for any of my muses: I love to explore them as a pair and as individuals. - What is your smut tag?: the unfamily friendly. ( new tag (?))

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: Anything? I am open to anything honestly. As long as it makes sense.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?: Anyone who is denying their feelings, are peculiar as an individual or anyone who needs an insight of themselves and the world around them. Nora is a mentor type of character, she is here to be a support and help others explore themselves and learn. Also if you are a minor, she will most likely try to get close to help -- one must protect the good sad kids.

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?: Stubborn, very fixated with things. Who would not open themselves to other perspective without thinking someone is trying to change them. Also she would struggle a heck lot with psychopaths and sociopaths, or anyone that “doesn’t have a face” for her. - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?: Curious people, struggling ones, kids in general -- people that are willing to listen to her opinions and try to improve in a positive way. Also those who are quirky in a way.

- What interests your Muse(s) in general: rabbits, literature, interesting people, the unknown, learning, relationships of all natures. - What do they desire, is their goal?: Live long without letting her particularity ruin her -- for her kind nobody makes it past the 50s and she wants that , to conquer her ability and prove that even with something like she is ( they are ), it’s posible to live and be happy. have a family of her own, yeah she is that cheesy. - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?: Their actions and the emotions that they are carrying on their back. - What do they value in a person?: sincerity, willingness, enthusiasm. - What themes do they like talking about?: a lot of phylosophic stuff, deep topics -- as well to casual things of life. about people and society. - Which themes bore them?: excuses and avoidance -- people who are willing to drop everything and give up.

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?: the attempt of suicide of her mother. and the successfull suicide of many of her peers. - What could possibly trigger them?: any sort of threat or violence towards someone who does not asked for it. esp. her peers and family. - What could set them off, enrage them?: Immoral ones. Those who are willing to stomp on others just to success in their goal. - What could lead to an instant kill?: is not killing, but touch a hair of her family and you are done. same for her friends and protegees.

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?: gorgers, suicide, her tired face. - Is there someone /-thing they love?: her family and dear ones --- to a fault. rabbits or anything related to it.

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: any way is okay as long as is not threatening. - Where are they usually to find?: during the night, in the streets -- during the day is either her workplace or her house. maybe a park near her apartment/location if she is feeling stuffy.

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?: she is not a good person , she is willing to manipulate people and is constantly trying to impose her morals. but she is also very sensitive even if she doesn’t show it --- Nora does look tired for a reason , and one of them is because she cries a lot .

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by: @skyvar Tagging: @batoushoujo , @obtainedloss , @lorddiiavolo , @evanesense , @sunpierce , @necrotrigae , @maljefe , @ethaeria , @calpio , @veiliisms

#mik talks #ᴍᴜɴᴅᴀɴᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs » misc.

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morethanonepage · 5 years

Text

i’m angery

i know i’m mostly a star wars killjoy on tumblr dot com lately but allow me to SCREAM about my latest nemesis, a book called “American Dirt”:

Lydia Quixano Pérez lives in the Mexican city of Acapulco. She runs a bookstore. She has a son, Luca, the love of her life, and a wonderful husband who is a journalist. And while there are cracks beginning to show in Acapulco because of the drug cartels, her life is, by and large, fairly comfortable.

Even though she knows they’ll never sell, Lydia stocks some of her all-time favorite books in her store. And then one day a man enters the shop to browse and comes up to the register with a few books he would like to buy―two of them her favorites. Javier is erudite. He is charming. And, unbeknownst to Lydia, he is the jefe of the newest drug cartel that has gruesomely taken over the city. When Lydia’s husband’s tell-all profile of Javier is published, none of their lives will ever be the same.

Forced to flee, Lydia and eight-year-old Luca soon find themselves miles and worlds away from their comfortable middle-class existence. Instantly transformed into migrants, Lydia and Luca ride la bestia―trains that make their way north toward the United States, which is the only place Javier’s reach doesn’t extend. As they join the countless people trying to reach el norte, Lydia soon sees that everyone is running from something. But what exactly are they running to?

Written by one Jeanine Cummins, who has Puerto Rican ancestry but grew up in the MD suburbs (as I did, tbf) and in 2015 considered herself white (”I am white...in every practical way, my family is mostly white.” [cw for sexual assault and murder at the link]), everything I read about this book has begun to drive me to madness.

Recommended by the Mary Sue book club (the source of the above summary), it has since been retracted bc a) its sucks and b) THEY DIDN’T READ IT BEFORE PUTTING IT ON THE BOOK CLUB LIST (”I try to read most, if not all, of the books I recommend for the Book Club because I truly do love reading, and I want to make sure that if I suggest someone grab something, it’s something I can say I liked. When I was looking up two books to fill out the list, one of them was American Dirt. I saw that it had received a lot of positive press from Stephen King, Rumaan Alam, Don Winslow, Sandra Cisneros, and other literary news outlets including Oprah’s Book Club. It seemed like the type of literary fiction that’s always good for a book club read. I was mistaken.“)

Myriam Gurba, at Tropics of Meta, describes being asked to review it for a feminist magazine, and then being told her review was too negative to publish. It included gems such as:

Cummins bombards with clichés from the get-go. Chapter One starts with assassins opening fire on a quinceañera, a fifteenth birthday party, a scene one can easily imagine President Donald Trump breathlessly conjuring at a Midwestern rally, and while Cummins’ executioners are certainly animated, their humanity remains shallow. By categorizing these characters as “the modern bogeymen of urban Mexico,” she flattens them. By invoking monsters with English names and European lineages, Cummins reveals the color of her intended audience: white. Mexicans don’t fear the bogeyman. We fear his very distant cousin, el cucuy.

[...]

With their family annihilated by narcotraffickers, mother and son embark on a refugees’ journey. They head north, or, as Cummins’ often writes, to “el norte,” and italicized Spanish words like carajo, mijo, and amigo litter the prose, yielding the same effect as store-bought taco seasoning.

[...] Lydia’s husband, a journalist, describes her as one of the “smartest” women he’s ever known. Nonetheless, she behaves in gallingly naïve and stupid ways. Despite being an intellectually engaged woman, and the wife of a reporter whose beat is narcotrafficking, Lydia experiences shock after shock when confronted with the realities of México, realities that would not shock a Mexican.

It shocks Lydia to learn that the mysterious and wealthy patron who frequents her bookstore flanked by “[thuggish]” bodyguards is the capo of the local drug cartel! It shocks Lydia to learn that some central Americans migrate to the United States by foot! It shocks Lydia to learn that men rape female migrants en route to the United States! It shocks Lydia to learn that Mexico City has an ice-skating rink! (This “surprise” gave me a good chuckle: I learned to ice skate in México.) That Lydia is so shocked by her own country’s day-to-day realities, realities that I’m intimate with as a Chicana living en el norte, gives the impression that Lydia might not be…a credible Mexican. In fact, she perceives her own country through the eyes of a pearl-clutching American tourist.

Parul Sehgal, at the NYT, digs into the fact that while the motives of this book may be unimpeachable (tho: are they??), the writing itself is...perhaps less so:

I found myself flinching as I read, not from the perils the characters face, but from the mauling the English language receives. Lydia’s expression “is one Luca has never seen before, and he fears it might be permanent. It’s as if seven fishermen have cast their hooks into her from different directions and they’re all pulling at once. One from the eyebrow, one from the lip, another at the nose, one from the cheek.” Yes, of course. That expression.

Sehgal also highlights my favorite line I’ve heard about in this book: “when Lydia finds she is unable to pray, ‘she believes it’s a divine kindness. Like a government furlough, God has deferred her nonessential agencies.’” The Raised in the DMV Suburbs just JUMPED OUT, didn’t it, Jeanine? But like legit, why on earth would a Mexican bookstore lady’s frame of reference ever be A GOVERNMENT FURLOUGH and NONESSENTIAL AGENCIES. followers, i just about died.

David J. Schmidt, at The Blue Nib, calls out other inaccuracies and stereotypes:

It is worth dwelling on the character of Javier for a moment. A “drinking game” could be created based on all the Latin American stereotypes he personifies. Javier is dapper, yet dangerous. He is charming, yet mysterious. He wears a white guayabera, a shirt the author describes as “more suitable for Sunday Mass than a regular workday.” (Untrue—this is a casual garment, more suitable for a love affair in a Fabio-bedecked romance novel.)

This quintessential “Latin lover” shows up at Lydia’s bookstore and speaks to her in a tone significantly different from the other characters of American Dirt. I must emphasise, Javier’s dialogue does not reflect the normal speech patterns of Mexico, but perfectly reflects U.S. stereotypes. The only way to properly read Javier’s lines is through the most gross of caricatures.

One should imagine the husky voice of Antonio Banderas, speaking at his most sensual and Spanishy. Any character he has played in English will do, although it is clear that Javier was ideally written for the voice of Puss in Boots. When Lydia asks if Javier reads English, the dapper narco responds:

“I try, yes […] My English isn’t fluent, but it’s close. And this story is so delicate.”

[...]

The cultural inaccuracies of American Dirt run deep, right down to the language. Throughout her book, Cummins shows confusion regarding the grammatical genders in Spanish. Most notably, she baptises the drug kingpin Javier with the nickname La Lechuza. It is difficult to imagine a macho, womanizing capo using a feminine-gendered noun as his moniker. Would a hardened mafia boss call himself “The Princess of Compton” or “The Belle of Belfast”?

Cummins got a seven figure advance for this. A SEVEN FIGURE ADVANCE. She “wished someone slightly browner than me would write it,” but she did it, and her team is throwing around the fact that her husband’s previously undocumented status as some sort of justification without mentioning that he’s white & Irish.

Also, there’s this news:

Imperative Entertainment, the production banner behind the Clint Eastwood hit The Mule, has acquired the rights to American Dirt, the Mexican migrant drama novel by Jeanine Cummins.

Charles Leavitt, the scribe who penned the Leonardo DiCaprio drama Blood Diamond, has been tapped to write the adaptation, which will be produced by Imperative’s Dan Friedkin and Bradley Thomas.

Charles Leavitt is a white guy who, most recently, wrote the Warcraft movie. So, that’s going to end well.

I’ll leave you with this other gem from Gurba (from her essay about it, “Pendeja, You Ain’t Steinbeck “):

Susan Sontag wrote that “[a] sensibility (as distinct from an idea) is one of the hardest things to talk about” and with this challenge in mind, I assert that American Dirt fails to convey any Mexican sensibility. It aspires to be Día de los Muertos but it, instead, embodies Halloween. The proof rests in the novel’s painful humorlessness. Mexicans have over a hundred nicknames for death, most of them are playful because death is our favorite playmate, and Octavio Paz explained our unique relationship with la muerte when he wrote, “The Mexican…is familiar with death. [He] jokes about it, caresses it, sleeps with it, celebrates it. It is one of his favorite toys and his most steadfast love.” Cummins’ failure to approach death with appropriate curiosity, and humility, is what makes American Dirt a perfect read for your local self-righteous gringa book club.

so idk, The Mary Sue, maybe it should stay on your Book Club list after all. (Oh wait: as of this writing, it still is.)

#american dirt #sorry for the long post but as i said #i'm angery #long post #(also TBF: i think Schmidt dings the book for having a character named luca)#(my cousin named her son that)#(and it's not like mexicans can NEVER have foreign names [i mean -- SCHMIDT -- etc]#but it's a thing that maybe requires some explanation even if it is 'well she liked the italian version better'#(oh also you can be white and latinx)#(i think more accurately jeanine is white passing but)#(that's her deal to id with)#anyway this will be made into a movie staring whatshername from Knives Out and MAYBE diego luna as the dead hubby #but realistically oscar isaac bc they love killing him off

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aminorcontradiction · 7 years

Text

Untitled Potterlock Fic. (Un-Beta-ed Draft)

I am unable to find a beta so I thought I’d just take the plunge and post the draft on tumblr instead. This is the first chapter to a fic I’m hoping will become a series. . .

If you have an suggestions or questions, don’t hesitate to share them/ask! All suggestions are welcome. In fact, critique is what I need right now.

(Also, my apologies, I’m copying this from a google doc, so some of the italics may not be italicized. . .)

It’s easy to be overwhelmed when in Diagon Alley. There is something to look at within every inch of the crowded alley and it’s cobblestone paths. The newest racing brooms with their shining, polished handles gleaming in the windows of the quidditch supply store. The glamorous silver robes that look as if they’re sewn with string made of stars. The giant croaking toads in the large iron cages in front of the Magical Menagerie. Everywhere and anywhere in the alley, there is something fantastic to see.

And although Sherlock was used to it by now, unlike most things, Diagon Alley hadn’t stopped being interesting.

He had been there many times, of course. He and his family went every year around the end of August to buy Mycroft his required supplies for the new term at Hogwarts. Along with that, his parents were both wizards, so whenever they needed something, whether it be a new spellbook or some beetle eyes, they’d go to the alley, taking their excited youngest child with them.

It wasn’t as if Sherlock hadn’t ever gotten something of his own from the alley - he had gotten an assortment of things from the alley over time. It wasn’t what he was getting that was important to him. It was why he was getting it.

Sherlock had turned eleven in January, which meant, after all these years of watching Mycroft being sent off to go to Hogwarts, it would finally be his turn.

Sherlock had decided to go with Mycroft - his parents were busy at an expo for Mummy’s new magical theory book. He was disappointed they weren’t coming, but he supposed Mycroft being there was good enough.

Mycroft was 18 and well above the legal age, and they could have apparated, but sidelong apparation could be dangerous. He never liked taking chances when it came to Sherlock. So instead, they opted for the floo network and appeared in the small fireplace in the leaky cauldron, Mycroft after Sherlock.

Diagon Alley was as busy as ever. Witches and wizards bustled around in their brightly colored robes, many with children and teenagers rushing along behind them. Most likely, they too were buying their hogwarts supplies.

It didn’t take very long for Sherlock to gather the bulk of his supplies. There was none of the tedious pulling out and reading of the list - Sherlock had memorized it the day it arrived. First, they went to Madam Malkin’s to get his robes fitted and to purchase the other uniform items he’d need. They then went across the street, to Scribbulus Writing Implements, where Mycroft bought him an elegant new crow feather quill, and a bottle of instant-drying ink.

And it went on like that for a while. They went from shop to shop, buying Sherlock’s supplies, with Mycroft insisting on buying him a gift here or there, and Sherlock, unless intrigued, refusing. After about an hour and a half, maybe two hours, they’d ended up in Flourish and Blott’s with armfuls of everything Sherlock needed for hogwarts (and then some).

All that was left to buy was his wand.

Mycroft had been preoccupied in browsing the shelves of Flourish and Blott’s, so Sherlock told him where he was going, left his bags of supplies with Mycroft, and walked out of the shop and down the alley to Olivander’s.

When he pushed open the door, and the tinkling of a quiet bell sounded. The shop was small, with dim lighting and dusty shelves. There were only two other people inside - a boy with sandy hair, and a woman with matching hair, who was sitting in a small wicker chair off to the side of the room. The boy was his age, judging by his height, and by the fact that he was buying a wand in the first place.

They both looked over to him at the sound of the bell. The woman gave him a polite smile, showing wary chestnut eyes, and crinkling laugh lines. The boy smiled at him as well. He didn’t share his mother’s dark eyes, but rather, his eyes were a light cobalt blue, bright with excitement.

“Hello,” said the boy,

Sherlock wasn’t expecting the boy to greet him. Quickly, he stammered a quiet, “Hello,”

There was a quiet rustling from the back of the shop in the shelves, which could only be Olivander searching for a wand for the boy. It wouldn’t take long for him to find one, but this didn’t worry the boy. He seemed determined to acquaint himself with Sherlock.

“My name’s John,” he informed him, holding out his hand.

Sherlock stood for a moment, considering this. He was almost certain that the boy - John - would be joining him at Hogwarts. And as Mummy had always told him, better to make friends than to make enemies. That had proven to be very hard for him, seeing as everyone he had met had grown irritated by him within the first few minutes of knowing him. Perhaps John would be different.

“Sherlock,” he declared hesitantly, taking his hand and giving it a chaste shake.

“Are you going to hogwarts?”

I’m an eleven year old wand shopping in London. Of course I’m going to hogwarts, Sherlock thought. “Yes.”

“So am I!” John seemed quite excited, and he began to gush. “My mum went to hogwarts, she’s told me all about it. What house do you think -” he trailed off as Olivander appeared from behind the towering shelves of boxes, a single green box in his hands. “Bad timing. My bad,” John told Sherlock quickly, and looked a little embarrassed as he turned his attention to Olivander.

He set the box on the counter in front of him, carefully pulling off the lid, and reaching inside for the wand. “Try this one, Mr. Watson,” he told John. He then looked at Sherlock. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he assured him, his voice wispy and quiet, almost dreamlike.

Sherlock nodded, and watched as Olivander gingerly placed the wand in John’s hand.

“This one is made of birch wood. 12 ¾ of an inch, with a phoenix feather core,” Olivander whispered. Or perhaps he said. His voice was so quiet is was hard to tell.

John took the wand and wrapped his fingers around it, then waved it in a nervous semicircle. There was no obvious outward reaction, but there were also no explosions, so that seemed as good a sign as any. Olivander looked unsure, and John’s mother looked as if she was expecting something to go wrong at any moment, shielding herself with her handbag.

Sherlock was trying his best to be unnoticeable, which was a challenge considering the size of the room. He knew it wasn’t his turn, so he tried to tune out of what was happening and into other aspects of his surroundings. For instance - the shattered glass that lie neglected in the corner. The glass was slightly tinted white, and rounded on the edges. A lightbulb, then. Judging by John’s mother’s current stance, he decided that John had been the one to shatter the lightbulb, likely accidentally, and it had been forgotten about.

In the short amount of time it had taken for Sherlock to come to his rather uneventful conclusion, he noticed the room had become. . . different. The once dusty feeling of the air in the shop had been replaced with a warmth, almost as if a fire had been lit in the shop, or as if the entire shop had been engulfed in a tight embrace. Sherlock turned cautiously back towards the counter.

Olivander wore a small smile. “Yes, it’ll be that one, then,” he declared, taking the wand from John carefully, and slipping it carefully back into it’s green, velvet lined box. He then took the lid and placed it over the wand, and set it back onto the counter.

“That will be seven galleons,” Olivander informed John, who automatically looked towards his mother. Luckily, she had put down her makeshift shield.

John’s mother stood, opening her purse and digging through it as she walked from the chair to the counter. She pulled out a small coin purse and began to look for the galleons.

John had turned back to Sherlock. “All of this’ quite exciting, isn’t it?”

Sherlock snapped his gaze from the exchange, and directed it towards John. He nodded.

“I can’t wait for the sorting. Maybe we’ll be in the same house!”

“Perhaps,”

John’s mother had finished paying Olivander, and had turned and ruffled John’s hair.

“C’mon, Johnny. We’ve still got to get your books,”

“Alright, mom,” John replied, glancing up at his mother and then back at Sherlock. “See you at school, Sherlock,”

And with a small wave and the soft tinkling of the hidden bell, he was gone.

And it was too late, but Sherlock couldn’t but agree. “Yes, John. I’ll see you at school.”

When Sherlock emerged from the shop, purple wand box in hand, Mycroft was standing by the door, waiting for him with his nose in a book. Mycroft glanced up as the door opened, and then closed his book, straightening his posture. Sherlock hopped down the steps, holding his wand box with a certain carefulness.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Mycroft asked, and then looked back down at Sherlock. He was smiling. “Why are you so happy?” Mycroft teased, the slightest trace of worry in his voice.

“I think,” began Sherlock, uncertainly, “I made a friend.”

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bakagamieru · 7 years

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Rolling Stone Breakdown

I read part of the article earlier today before work and I could already tell BS was simmering even before I got home and found out about all the over the top het stuff. Knowing this ahead of time, I’m going to go ahead and take notes / rant back at the article as I read it.

BS 101: Intro to BS

paragraph 1: wow this person really wanted to be a bad fanfic writer, but they got stuck at Rolling Stone instead

I’m being petty with this, but just use “One Direction” fully if you’re going to go to the trouble of typing out “One D” instead of “1D”

“he became a canvas onto which many of fans pitched their hopes and dreams” because all fans of boybands (i.e. girls) dream about is romance and that’s the only reason they’re fans, ALSO media like Rolling Stone had nothing to do with Harry being a blank canvas for people to project their image of him onto (*sarcasm)

every mention of After, even a vague one, is -5000 points, every time it’s mentioned normally and not as the dangerous misrepresentation of abuse it is, is -5,000,000 points, every time someone crosses the line by a light-year and talks about it directly to Harry is -5,000,000,000 points, I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them

“a song cycle about women and relationships”, *cough*womanizer BS*cough, ALSO the first single Sign of the Times is clear social commentary with no real (read: not forced to fit that interpretation) hint of romance in sight, so...?

“more of a rock sound”, still pretending that 1D’s last 3 albums never existed

Harry wants his music to be “honest”, now where have we heard that before? Niall, Louis, Zayn with Liam probably soon to follow. It’s almost like they’ve been held forcibly quiet under a gag order...

I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to take the comment that Harry “runs every yellow light” and apply it to his persona, I’m stumped (also, you can’t run a yellow btw)

“the album no one has heard is burning a hole in his iPhone”, chill the fuck out with the italics, I know everyone else has talked about that, but you haven’t even mentioned the secrecy around his album in your article so you have no reason to randomly italicize things

Hiatus

“there was another One D member to vector questions into a charmingly evasive display of band camaraderie”, fuck you and your ever so sly implications that the boys’ closeness was manufactured and that the boys never answering anything interesting had to do with the band rather than interviewers incessantly asking the same vapid questions

“It was in a London studio in late 2014 that Styles first brought up the idea of One Direction taking a break”, as @paynoisbatman already pointed out, this timeline of the hiatus makes no sense with the timing of Zayn “quitting”, also it’s inconsistent with the way the boys denied the first round of hiatus articles in June 2015

just to be clear, they probably DID know about the hiatus ahead of time and they WERE lying when they denied the upcoming hiatus in June, and that also means that there’s no reason Zayn should have jumped the gun so close to the finish line (yay mixed metaphors!), I’m just pointing out the story is inconsistent, so all of these things can’t be true

“If you’re shortsighted, you can think, 'Let’s just keep touring,’ but we all thought too much of the group than to let that happen. You realize you’re exhausted and you don’t want to drain people’s belief in you.” <- This is pure 100% lovely, insightful, well spoken Harry

I’d also like to point out that them first discussing it in 2014 means that Harry’s comment about “we all thought too much of the group” applies to all 5

“I love the band, and would never rule out anything in the future. The band changed my life, gave me everything.” I’d like to point out that they always phrase these quotes to sound like past tense, like the band is broken up as of now, when in reality he’s saying that not only will they come back after the hiatus but that he’s in this band for life

“and not just have it be ‘Here’s a demo I wrote.’” you have that chance Harry! Release the finished version of Don’t Let Me Go Harry!

“Every decision I’ve made since I was 16 was made in a democracy.” I feel like someone misspelled “was a rebellion under Simon Cowell and Co’s dictatorship”

Pretentious Character Work or Work on Building Pretentious Character? Ah, got it: Pretentious Work on Building Pretentious Character

“As one of the most well-known 23-year-olds in the world, Styles himself is still largely unknown” not if you’ve actually paid attention over the last 6 years? I mean yes, always to some extent, but it’s not like this insightful, loving dork is a dark mystery

“He looks at my digital recorder like a barely invited guest.” learn to choose useful metaphors and stop being pretentious

dude, I know you did this on purpose, but you said that “Behind the effervescent stage persona, there is more lore than fact. He likes it that way.” and then put the quote about Prince’s artist draw being his mystery right after, making it seem like he that was his reason for wanting to be mysterious, then you quoted “It’s not about trying to make my career longer, like I’m trying to be this 'mysterious character,’ because I’m not.” which directly contradicts the connection you drew with your words, AKA you knew it was BS and made it seem connected anyway

“The pool cleaner looks perplexed, not quite sharing Styles’ existential joy.” there’s nothing existential about it, it’s just a smile, he’s just being nice to people he passes like a good human being, I’m sorry if you don’t know what that looks like

“It’s obvious that the band has a well-worn frat-house dynamic”, do you actually know what you’re talking about or are you going off of stereotypes? if you’re calling it a “frat” and were in a fraternity, your frat was probably stereotypical anyway

“Styles is, to all, ‘H.’” It’s a fricking nickname that his fricking boybandmates also use, not a commentary on his position as the benign and worshipped leader of the Jamaican band cult frat you apparently think formed

“Pomegranate-scented candles flicker around the room.” this I definitely believe, but did you recognize the pomegranate smell right away or specifically look at a candle to find out what it was?

“It was Styles’ first full immersion into the land of musos” I need that staring into the camera Office gif

Music Ideology

“Most of the stuff that hurts me about what’s going on at the moment is not politics, it’s fundamentals,” Styles says. “Equal rights. For everyone, all races, sexes, everything. …” this is a very interesting thing to randomly bring into a conversation without asking, unlike the rest of the article, this bit aligns with Harry’s rainbows in the pics, at SNL, and out and about with fans

“The song is written from a point of view as if a mother was giving birth to a child and there’s a complication.” No, uh-uh, I like the idea personally , but Harry has said ever since MITAM and maybe before that he likes people to be able to have their own interpretation, he said it in interviews about SOTT recently too, I’m not at all convinced Harry wanted to actually share the official story of what the song means, it flies in the face of his philosophy about song interpretation

“The lyrics are full of details and references – secrets whispered between friends, doomed declarations of love, empty swimming pools – sure to set fans scrambling for the facts behind the mystery.” the fact that you put this right after Ever Since New York is laughable, that is a solid contender for the vaguest lyrics that couldn’t possibly be accurately paired up with details of Harry’s life, but you want people to think it’s about Haylor, don’t you

“I’m happy I found this band and these musicians, where you can be vulnerable enough to put yourself out there.” this one is hard because I can see Harry being grateful for a good group of people to write with, but I also don’t believe the implications that he’s never been vulnerable in his writing before or that he couldn’t be vulnerable with his boyband, both are BS, I’m going to say it’s probably a real quote but with suggestive framing

“The album is a distinct departure from the dance pop that permeates the airwaves.” can people please stop pretending that music hasn’t sounded vaguely 70′s and 80′s-ish for the last 4-5 years?

“It’s different from what you’d expect,” Bhasker says. “It made me realize the Harry [in One D] was kind of the digitized Harry. Almost like a character. I don’t think people know a lot of the sides of him that are on this album.” such. utter. BS. Fans know Harry. the general public only doesn’t know him because MEDIA LIKE ROLLING STONE created that “digitized Harry” that’s “like a character”

“Asked if he spends pressure-filled evenings worried about proving credibility to an older crowd, Styles grows animated.” of course he does, sweet child of man that he is, he jumps at the chance to educate heathens like you about the wonderful world of being a decent human being rather than a sexist prick

1D and Zayn

“He’s not a heavy drinker, he says, maybe some tequila on ice or wine with friends after a show, but by the band’s last tour there wasn’t much time even for that.” Oh, ok, we’re still pretending that TMH wasn’t the craziest scheduled tour

“Styles and his phone have a bittersweet, mature relationship – they spend a lot of time apart. He doesn’t Google himself, and checks Twitter infrequently.” ah, but you forgot his lurking on Tumblr

“I mention a few of the verbal Molotov cocktails Zayn Malik has tossed at the band in recent interviews.” print interviews, all print interviews, because you put words in his mouth just like you're doing with Harry

“threading the needle of diplomacy” yeahhhh.... this is all BS, it’s made to sound neutral to make it seem like Harry is only being polite, whether Harry said these words or not, they’re not HIS words

More Pretentiousness

“Styles, born two months before Cobain exited Earth, doesn’t feel tied to any particular genre or era” funny since his 70′s image is being amped up to 11 for his solo debut

“In the car, he’ll just as easily crank up the country music of Keith Whitley as the esoteric blues-and-soul of Shuggie Otis” and now I know where the country bits of MITAM came from, I was wondering

“It’s like – that’s not how it works. I don’t even remember what the question was.” having “It’s quite small” flashbacks

“ ‘Could I get a selfie?’ Styles obliges, and leans over the counter. Click. We exit into the Laurel Canyon evening.” I’m sorry, I can’t stop laughing, but was the onomatopoeia really that necessary?

“River Phoenix,” the man announces, a little sadly. “You ever heard of him? If he hadn’t have passed, I would have said that was you. Talented guy.” sadness, River Phoenix really was such a talented young man, a very worthwhile person based on the roots of his problems too

The Obligatory Origin Story

They share a silent moment, before Styles walks to his car. He hands me the bag filled with English snacks. “This is for you,” he says. “This was my youth …” “Harry Edward Styles was born in Worcestershire, England” great transition dude, I’m sure that was completely organic

“But in fact, all was not perfection, scored to a cool, retro soundtrack.” but I thought it was!

“His eyes moisten a little, but unlike the young man who wept over an early bout with Internet criticism, a powerful moment in the early One Direction documentary A Year in the Making, Styles tonight knocks back the sentiment.” “look, he’s repressing his emotions, this is progress!” I wouldn’t make fun of this if he had phrased it as Harry being stronger or no longer caring about what other people think, but saying he “knock[ed] back the sentiment”?

“I’d gone because my mum told me I was good from singing in the car … but your mum tells you things to make you feel good, so you take it with a pinch of salt.” um... first of all, X-Factor flashbacks, second of all, Harry said that he’d always wanted to audition but had always been too young, so...

“and united the members of One D in a musical shotgun marriage” I’m keeping this imagery, it’s mine, no one can take it away from me now, no takebacksies

Ben Winston Earns His Tag On My Blog

“ ‘Family,’ answers Ben Winston.” who is not Harry’s family

look, I actually think Harry and Niall and maybe the others actually have a friendship with Ben, I can’t understand why, though, when he always participates in BS like this, I will never forgive him for the Livestream of Doom/FOUR Hangout

“There is more chance of me going to Mars next week than there is of Harry having some sort of addiction.” Why are we so focused on Harry not being a drug addict? He’s not, there aren’t even rumors he is, ok, don’t need to talk about it, moving on.

Styles had just moved out of his family home in Cheshire, an inconvenient three hours north of London. He found a home he liked near the Winstons in Hampstead Heath. wtf? revisionist history much? forgetting all 5 boys lived in the same complex right after moving to London much?

“ He became a friendly mentor to Styles, though the friendship was soon tested... Styles asked if he could briefly move in with Winston and his wife, Meredith. She agreed,” Winston says, “but only for two weeks.”... For the next 20 months, one of the most desired stars on the planet slept on a small mattress in an attic.” this is not Harry, Harry would not move in for 20 months after asking for 2 weeks, if he did he would make sure it was ok, if he made sure it was ok, you shouldn’t be talking about it and essentially badmouthing him to the press

also, can we talk about “one of the world’s most desired stars” because as we’ve all talked about before, Harry was 17/18 and being hypersexualized in the press and this is not ok

Winston continues the tales from the attic. “So we had this joke. Meri and I would like to see the girls that you would come back with to the house. That was always what we enjoyed, because we’d be in bed like an old couple. We’d have our spot cream on our faces and we’d be in our pajamas and the door would go off. The stairwell was right outside our door, so we’d wait to see if Harry was coming home alone or with people... He wasn’t always alone,” corrects Winston, “but it was exciting seeing the array of A-listers that would come up and sleep in the attic. het BS *yawn* *snore*

The subject today is relationships. While Styles says he still feels like a newcomer to all that, a handful of love affairs have deeply affected him. The images and stolen moments tumble extravagantly through the new songs: And promises are broken like a stitch is … I got splinters in my knuckles crawling 'cross the floor/Couldn’t take you home to mother in a skirt that short/But I think that’s what I like about it … I see you gave him my old T-shirt, more of what was once mine … That black notebook, you sense, is filled with this stuff. het BS *yawn* *snore*, I’m really going to need to hear these songs for myself, they better not have fucked with his material, the consolation about Zayn’s album was that at least the music and lyrics were unquestionably his

More Specific Het!Harry BS

The relationship is a subject he’s famously avoided discussing. “I gotta pee first. This might be a long one,” he says. He rises to head to the bathroom, then adds, “Actually, you can say, 'He went for a pee and never came back.' ” you think he was being funny, but he really really wasn’t, are you sure he came back? I don’t think he did, I think everything after the bathroom was utter BS

“When I see photos from that day,” he says, “I think: Relationships are hard, at any age. And adding in that you don’t really understand exactly how it works when you’re 18, trying to navigate all that stuff didn’t make it easier. I mean, you’re a little bit awkward to begin with. You’re on a date with someone you really like. It should be that simple, right? It was a learning experience for sure. But at the heart of it – I just wanted it to be a normal date.” ok, maybe not such BS since he’s as vague and general as you can get in the vast majority of this quote, so he’s saying that when he looks at pictures of himself with Taylor, he thinks how he wanted it to be a normal date with Louis, got it

yada yada yada, Harry being way nicer than he should have to be about his name being used by someone who abused his reputation for her own gain, par for the course

I like tipping a hat to the time together. You’re celebrating the fact it was powerful and made you feel something, rather than 'this didn’t work out, and that’s bad.’ huh, this seems like subtle shade to me since one of my biggest complaints is how nearly all her songs are negative, put the blame on the guy, and don’t have her taking any responsibility (even if they are fake relationships)

He notes a more recent relationship, possibly over now, but significant for the past few years. (Styles has often been spotted with Kendall Jenner, but he won’t confirm that’s who he’s talking about.) it was made abundantly clear that even if you believe the narrative, Harry and Kendall are not currently together, yeesh!

“She’s a huge part of the album,” says Styles. “Sometimes you want to tip the hat, and sometimes you just want to give them the whole cap … and hope they know it’s just for them.” mm, nope, still BS, alternatively a quote taken out of context and not about Kendall or even romance at all

Actual Solo Stuff

“Some of the stuff they’re doing in this movie is insane. And it was hard, man, physically really tough, but I love acting. I love playing someone else. I’d sleep really well at night, then get up and continue drowning.” ok, that was clever, good on you Harry

It was the perfect rite of passage for a musician looking to explode the past and launch a future. I thought we agreed that Harry has no issue with his past in a boyband? can you please remember what you already wrote in your own article

He didn’t feel stifled in One D, he says, as much as interrupted. you bet your ass he did, him and Zayn and Niall, interrupting clueless and/or asshole interviewers all day long (I’m sure Louis and Liam have/will do too, just haven’t had the chance yet)

There are songs from that period he loves, he says, like “Olivia” and “Stockholm Syndrome,” along with the earlier song “Happily.” #confirmed

“But I think it was tough to really delve in and find out who you are as a writer when you’re just kind of dipping your toe each time. We didn’t get the six months to see what kind of shit you can work with. To have time to live with a song, see what you love as a fan, chip at it, hone it and go for that” funny that, sounds like someone forced them into a breakneck schedule and then later made big noises about how their hiatus was because they were so overworked and acted like he had nothing to do with that

Ending

To wind down in Jamaica, Styles and Rowland, the guitarist, began a daily Netflix obsession with sugary romantic comedies. Houseworkers would sometimes leave at night and return the next morning to see Styles blearily removing himself from a long string of rom-coms. He declares himself an expert on Nicholas Sparks, whom he now calls “Nicky Spee.” sounds about right for the guy whose favorite movie is Love Actually

Like the time Styles ended up drunk and wet from the ocean, toasting everybody, wearing a dress he’d traded with someone’s girlfriend. yep, sounds about right

oops, fanfic writer made a full return for this paragraph all in present tense, written by someone else as if Harry’s a fictional character

“I think, as a parent, especially with the band stuff, it was such a roller coaster,” he says. “I feel like they were always thinking, 'OK, this ride could stop at any point and we’re going to have to be there when it does.’ this is the second time he’s brought up roller coasters in his solo interviews, it’s a good description for the thing he’s talking about, but I can’t help but think of Zayn’s old Twitter bio and Anne tweeting that bio not long after March 25th

He grabs his black notebook and turns back for a moment before disappearing down the hallway, into the future. I need the Office gif again

“How am I going to be mysterious,” he asks, only half-joking, “when I’ve been this honest with you?” *sarcasm

#one direction #1d #harry styles #solo harry #rolling stone #bakagamieru #speculation #more of an interpretation really #bearding #media #ben winston is an ass

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