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slasherlouvre · 2 years

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A Love so Vulnerable

Bo Sinclair x gn! Reader

Warnings: language, angst, descriptions of gore, mentions of nsfw/t themes

Summary: Bo must confront the deep-rooted insecurities and childhood trauma telling him to push you away if he’s going to love you back.

Vincent’s version here 🤍

You supposed you always had a restless sort of nature; never being satisfied by staying in one place and always moving on to experience something new and unknown. Some people thought you were crazy to leave your hometown without a set location in mind, especially when you’d often find yourself in secluded old counties they considered meaningless, but you didn’t mind. You’d made quite a few fond memories in ‘insignificant’ places, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. If you only had this life to live, then you wanted to experience as much of the world as possible until you found a place you could truly call home.

However, not even you could have anticipated that place to be Ambrose.

You ended up in Ambrose quite the same way many of the town’s wax residents had; driving through empty rural roads before your faithful vehicle had finally choked to a stop a couple of miles away from a ‘Trudy’s world famous House of Wax’ sign on the side of the road. You merely followed the signs hoping you’d find the town harboring the attraction in order to get help, but the signs were few and far between, and you were beginning to think the place no longer existed on account of their dilapidated condition.

Your saving grace had come in the form of a roadkill driver who amiably offered you a ride in an old truck that had seen far better days. Lester Sinclair. A sort of carefree, grimy man that you immediately took a liking to; Lester was kind, making you smile with the occasional joke, and even going so far as to apologize for the state of his truck as he didn’t see a need to tidy it up since he wasn’t expecting a ‘guest’. You had assured him stuff like that didn’t bother you before humorously adding that you were certain you looked far worse after walking undirected for so long in the heat. Lester had giving you a crooked smile and a laugh at that, seeming to appreciate the light mood despite being strangers. You had thanked Lester a final time as he gave you a couple of directions once you’d both reached the end of the road where you’d have to continue on foot on account of part of the road being washed out ahead, but he assured you Ambrose was just around the corner as you waved goodbye.

You had met Vincent first between the twins, which you now realize was probably an unexpected variable on your part. Yes, you had heard the church organ music- it would explain why the rest of the town seemed rather empty at the moment of your arrival, but you figured that wouldn’t be unusual for a town as small as this, so instead of going to the church you chose to look around for the House of Wax you had been interested in. Besides, walking in during the middle of a church service with all eyes on you made you uncomfortable; you could already imagine the organ music coming to a screeching halt as the church would undoubtedly become silent due to your abrupt intrusion through those heavy wooden doors. No, you’d just patiently wait for the town’s service to be over, it was only polite after all, and it’s not like you were in a rush either.

The House of Wax wasn’t hard to find within the tiny town, and you noticed one of the doors was already partially pushed open, so you figured it’d be okay to enter. Truthfully, you hadn’t seen the ‘closed’ sign hanging off of the open door as you were immediately mesmerized by the artwork inside. Walking in, you were surrounded by detailed wax people in various positions and clothing as well as beautiful paintings hanging on the walls and smaller carved sculptures everywhere you looked. You weren’t very artistic yourself, but you could recognize talented craftsmanship when you saw it, and you silently appreciated the fact you had the place to yourself for a while- or so you thought. You came to a curious stop as you noticed a black and white spotted pittie quietly observing you. You’d almost mistook her for wax, but you were certain she blinked just a second ago.

“Hi, honey”, you gently smiled, lowering yourself into a non threatening crouching position and extending a hand in order to greet her, “Is this place yours? It’s very nice”, you mused playfully.

‘Jonesy’ as you’d come to know later, seemed a bit hesitant to come near you, but she eventually walked closer to you in order to press into your hand and receive the affection you happily offered. Vincent had walked in on you cheerfully cooing at the family dog and praising her with her head in your hands and her tail lazily wagging in content. His presence would have gone entirely unnoticed by you had Jonesy not turned her attention to Vincent and padded over to him. To say he was rather stunned at coming across you without warning had been an understatement, and he remained stiff at your sight. You yourself had gone a bit tense at the unexpected presence, but immediately relaxed seeing it was only a man.

“Sorry, it looks like we’re both quiet people”, you laughed while getting up and dusting yourself off, “I hope I’m not intruding!”, you continued quickly, “the door was open, and I was waiting for the church’s service to end…”

The man before you shook his head no at your apology, but said nothing else. He was quite tall with long dark hair, and loose dark clothing that intensified the contrasting white wax smudges and paint upon them. There was something curious about his visage as well you noted, it seemed flawless, almost unnaturally so, and it wasn’t until a blue eye came slightly into view behind his hair that you realized it was a mask. A wax mask.

“Oh! You must be the artist!”, you suddenly exclaimed, “are you Vincent?”, you were sure you had seen the name signed carefully on quite a few of the pieces surrounding you both. ‘Vincent’ you had now confirmed, nodded slowly at your question as if regarding you carefully.

“Well, Vincent, it’s very nice to meet you”, you finalized with a smile, “you have a beautiful gift. My new friend here distracted me a bit”, you said while motioning towards Jonesy who happily circled you, “but I truly enjoyed admiring your pieces”

At the time you couldn’t have been able to tell, but Vincent had become quite flustered at your kindness and praise, and even Jonesy seemed to think you were a good person; there was no way he’d be able to harm you now. Vincent politely showed you around the rest of the House of Wax as you continued to compliment his craft and ramble on a bit as to how you ended up in town in the first place. You figured he couldn’t talk after he’d continue to mostly only nod or shake his head in order to respond, but he was a good listener, and you didn’t mind. Just as Vincent had motioned for you to follow him out the House of Wax after completing the small tour, an aggressive man wearing a mechanic suit of similar stature to Vincent’s burst through the main doors.

“Vincent, the hell have I told you about goin’ off on your own when-”,

The man’s tangent cut short when you quickly placed yourself in front of Vincent to stall his angry advance, “It’s my fault!”, you quickly admitted without thinking, “Vincent was showing me around, but only because I sort of walked in uninvited, I’m sorry if I caused you trouble”

Your unexpected sight and rushed confession to defend his brother of all people was certainly enough to make him pause, “Well now, guess there ain’t no harm done if someone as good-lookin’ as you’s the reason for it”

You had blushed at that, and inwardly cursed your increasingly heating face as the man before you smirked devilishly without bothering to hide the fact his eyes were completely taking in your figure. He was no mysterious beauty like Vincent, but he was undeniably ruggedly handsome, and conveniently just the type of man you needed with a broken down car.

That had been a few months ago, and truthfully, you’re still not entirely sure as to why the Sinclair boys decided to spare you that day. You supposed your genuine kindness would have to take most of the credit there, but to the Sinclair’s you were oddly devoted to them as well. It hadn’t taken long for you to figure out the secret of Ambrose, and come across the twin’s acts of brutality, but you had discovered the truths of their tragic upbringing before anything else, and as a result, sided with them; unable to bear the thought of emotionally turning away from them. You wouldn’t condone all of their actions, but you empathized with the unfairness the world had forced on them that led them to where they were now. And there was no way you could bring yourself to hate them when they had never treated you badly. They had become family, and Ambrose had become home.

—————————

“Bo”, you attempted softly while wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek into his back, “I love you. All of you”

It was one of his bad days. On days like this, Bo could be particularly aggressive; often becoming destructive and saying things he didn’t really mean. He had just smashed a half empty beer bottle in anger when the alcohol failed to ease his nerves, breathing heavily with his back to you and his hands gripping the kitchen sink in front of him.

“Get off me, (y/n)”

His tone stung a bit, but you obediently let go much to Bo’s irritation. He hated how much he wanted you close while also pushing you away, and he hated when you would give him the space he specifically asked for; he’d only become even more exasperated when the withdrawal of your touch and presence made him feel infinitely worse. In truth, the things he felt for you were beginning to push him to his wit’s end, and although you yourself had never necessarily given him a reason to doubt your declarations of love, the voices in his head that sounded a lot like his parents and every other worthless bastard who’d been in his life never completely silenced.

To sum it up, Bo’s relationship with you wasn’t exactly defined. Yes, you had grown close to one another, far closer than you had grown with his brothers, and closer than you’d be with a mere friend. You’d even been intimate; eventually sharing his bed every night and not just on the nights he wanted to be inside you. You both settled into a rather domestic routine with each other in the Sinclair home much to the delight of his brother’s, but neither of you had specifically labeled the relationship itself. You because you were content and secure with what Bo gave you without needing to unnecessarily pressure him into more, and Bo (even though he’d never outwardly admit it) because such an official commitment terrified him.

He’d been sexually involved with others of course; easily allowing his body count and performance to boost his ego and feed that devilishly charismatic charm he easily put on, but you were different. He didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted something more; something emotional and genuine he’d never cared to consider possible with anyone else. And that completely scared him. Bo didn’t know the first thing about allowing himself to love you. That would require a substantial amount of trust, it would require vulnerability, and why the hell would he be anyone’s first choice when not even his parents had loved him when they were supposed to.

The very first time you allowed him to touch you almost entirely consumed him with apprehension, something he’d never experienced before in a sexual setting. He wanted you more than anything, hell, he had thought about nothing else for weeks before the fact, but by god did it feel like he was going against every fiber of his being by hoping to believe this was more than just sex to you, that this was love. Could you really love him? He didn’t deserve something as good as you, he knew that. He even feared entering into something so deep-seated with a man like him would inevitably end in your ruination. That night had ended with him pulling away from you before things could escalate further, deciding instead to sleep alone on the couch downstairs despite your attempts at getting him to settle in bed with you even if you wouldn’t be having sex.

You had been patient with him however; seeming to understand enough of the reasons for his inner-most torment that disguised itself behind angry outbursts and excessive violence when dealing with the occasional ‘tourist’. He had no doubt his brothers revealed more of their childhood past than he would have liked to help you understand his behavior, but you never seemed to hesitate with expressing your love for him even before that. You had always decided to fully give yourself to him despite his doubts and deep-rooted defense mechanisms in your opposition, but not once had you ever faulted him for being unable to return those three words that you so freely gave him even after all this time. Your displays of affection whether small or large never wavered either, they remained constant despite Bo’s inability to always reciprocate. Yes, you had been patient with him, you were still patient with him, but that didn’t stop him from believing you’d grow tired of it all, realize he was more trouble than he was actually worth. And while Bo entirely believed you deserved a man far better than him, he also knew he’d never actually let you end up in someone else’s arms.

Today’s breaking point had been walking in on two unexpected men making advances on you when he’d come back into the garage after grabbing a few things from the basement. He hadn’t heard their initial arrival since you both liked to play Bo’s music loud, you often accompanying him while he worked, but it was obvious you were becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“Can I help you?”, Bo asked through gritted teeth after turning off the music and coming to protectively wrap an arm around you.

“This him?”, one man mocked cynically.

“Baby, the only reason you're stuck with a man like him’s cause you live in this shithole. Why not come with us?”, the other joined in.

You had looked up angrily at that; you could take plenty of lowdown comments directed at you from others entirely unphased, but you drew the line at putting down the man and the home you loved. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to do or say in retaliation, but Bo had been faster, and much more violent in his methods. Within seconds the first man was kicked down while Bo pulled you back out of harms way and struck the second man with a right hook, effectively breaking his nose and staining the floor red. The man had staggered back from the blow; falling and impacting the back of his skull with a sick sound before gurgling up blood and ceasing to move entirely. You were sure he was dead. The other man had taken the opportunity to get a few good hits on Bo after getting up while he was distracted with his friend, effectively knocking Bo back into a counter and partially obscuring his vision with the blood gushing from his now split brow into his left eye. You desperately wanted to run to Bo, but you’d only get in his way, and Bo made a point of sending you a quick warning glare to stay where you were. He was feigning over exertion now as he leaned heavily on the counter, blood still running down his face as the man before him advanced. It wasn’t until the man lifted his fist again with a smirk thinking he’d be finishing Bo off, that Bo snatched a nearby screwdriver from the counter before plunging it into his chest. The man let out a shocked guttural sound before Bo returned the man's previous smirk and finally knocked him out.

Prior to Bo angrily entering the house with you following closely behind, he didn’t speak a word. Only regaining the ability to form a complete sentence again in order to bark orders at Vincent to take care of the mess in the garage. Poor Vincent had given you a sort of apologetic look before leaving, but you assured him you'd be okay with a silent nod and a half smile.

"Bo", you attempted again, quieter this time, "talk to me"

Bo let out a bitter huff at that, but he remained in the same angry position. Talk to you? What was he supposed to say? That some two-bit fucking nobodies had made him insecure about your relationship? Was he even allowed to label what you both had an exclusive relationship??

"Why don't you leave. Leave me, leave Ambrose", he finally spat, “Ain’t no reason for you to stay here”

He didn’t mean it. Any of it. And he was glad he couldn’t see your hurt reaction at the words he was already regretting.

Oh. It seemed the root cause for his anger ran much deeper than you initially thought. Of course you couldn't 'leave' per se, you were sure if you ever betrayed the Sinclair's trust and made them choose between you and keeping Ambrose's secret safe, that they'd choose Ambrose; a decision they'd never have to make because you'd never betray their trust anyway. Admittedly, hearing Bo doubt your feelings for him did hurt you, especially after all this time and everything you’d been through, but you understood in moments like these Bo needed patience and reassurance more than anything. His inability to process his emotions in a healthy way was the tragic result of years and years of formative familial abuse as a child.

"Do you think I stay in Ambrose because you believe it was my only choice? That I fell for you because you and your brothers were the only ones around? That my only options were to choose one of you or be killed?”, you asked him calmly.

That had struck a nerve. And within seconds Bo had turned to grip the sides of your arms in frustration, pushing you back against the kitchen table as he raised his voice, "It's true ain't it? The fuck else would it be!?”

Bo had never raised a hand against you, and you certainly didn’t believe he would now. He was shaking yes, but not because he was so angry he wanted to hit you, but because the pain of finding out you had only used him as a survival tactic when he felt so much fucking more for you would be too great for him to bear at this point.

"Bo Sinclair, I stay in Ambrose and I love you because I choose to", you clarified for him, "You may think you didn't give me much of a choice, but you don't dictate my heart, and that's what makes the difference"

Bo's grip on your arms was beginning to loosen with each declaration which gave you the opportunity to cup the sides of his face and press his bloody forehead to yours, "Can't you see that I love you truly? That it’ll always be you?”, you whispered now, "please don't keep pushing me away"

"I don't understand you", Bo finalized. He had meant for his tone to remain strong, but even he heard the way his voice unexpectedly cracked in defeat. He wanted to tell you that this had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him. That he was still getting used to the fact that someone could love all of him genuinely, that he was infinitely thankful for you. He wanted to apologize and swear he'd do better by you, but his pride still wouldn't quite let the words come out. Instead, he settled for crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss that said all of those things for him before burying his face in the crook of your neck and holding you against him impossibly tight to avoid you seeing his watery eyes.

You had seen the tears, but you made no mention of them as you stroked your fingers through Bo’s hair and continued to gently reiterate your love for him. It had taken some time, but Bo had finally calmed enough to stop shaking and face you again; the only evidence of his tears now being the slight redness under his beautiful blue eyes. He was exhausted. Impossibly so. And as a result, he allowed you to lead him to the bathroom and sit him down in order to clean his wounds without a fuss.

“(Y/n)”

“Yes, Bo?”

“Thank you…for choosing me”

His words had been whisper quiet, but you had heard them, immediately making your heart swell as you finished up caring for the main gash on his brow.

“Thank you for choosing me too”, you smiled while carefully kissing his forehead.

Bo remained seated to continue accepting your affection, but wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, gently pressing his face in your stomach as he breathed in your familiar and comforting scent. You remained like that for a while. Neither of you wanting to pull away from each other, but knowing you’d have to in order to get into bed for the night. When you finally reached your shared room, you carefully helped Bo strip, not bothering to turn on the lights or place any of your dirty clothes in the hamper where they belonged, instead letting them haphazardly fall to the floor. It’s not that Bo couldn’t do this himself of course, but the act of caring for one another and allowing oneself to be cared for was something so intimately special for the both of you, even if right now that just meant helping him change into something more comfortable. You took the liberty of sneaking an extra shirt of his to sleep in as well, but he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t like seeing you in them, and even in the dark you could feel his familiar blue eyes remain on your figure. Bo was far too exhausted to resist your arms softly pulling him into bed with you even if he was crazy enough to want to resist in the first place. You took a moment to loosely cover you both with the bedsheets, not necessarily needing them with Bo around to affectionately encase himself around you while you slept. He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face at the feeling of you nuzzling into his neck and chest to get comfortable in his arms. It was something you always did, and he was certain he’d no longer be able to sleep in his own bed without you beside him. He was grateful he'd no longer have to.

“Good night, Bo”, you said softly, reaching up slightly to kiss his jawline before settling once more in his arms, “I love you”

For a moment, Bo’s only response was to squeeze you tighter, something he’d normally do to reciprocate those words nonverbally; an act you were already more than grateful for without needing more from him. But just before you drifted off to sleep, you heard it. Quietly, but he had finally said it.

“I love you too”

Bo inwardly swore he'd start saying it much more. He'd give himself to you entirely just as you had done so for him. He knew you'd continue to be patient and supportive, but he hoped you wouldn't have to wait too much longer for him to come to terms with the fact that he'd let himself love you without holding back now.

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quacka-quacka · 2 years

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Hi i want to ask you about Paul jealousy towards John. Do u think his jealousy are same as John? Thats what i see from Get Back, Paul always get away from this. People always focus on John jealousy and mental psychology while Paul often being ignored or under explore. I just want hear something from you because your blog quite fascinating about Paul, makes him more human i think.

Yes, Paul is also a jealous guy, especially towards John. The legendary partnership of Lennon-McCartney is not only created by cooperation, but the mutual competitiveness that neither of them wanted to be behind each other in any way. It's just that Paul is the only one alive who can always say his songwriting partner was jealous of him whereas John, unfortunately, was busy being dead.

The rivalry is always there, I think, it didn't explode until the final time of the Beatles- when John brought Yoko into the studio. That's really pushed Paul's jealousy to a new level, he actually spends rest of his life competing with JohnandYoko, either about itself or its enormous impact.

The intimacy between John and Yoko bothered Paul most at the beginning when he just got dumped by his fiancee not long ago. It can be seen that he is jealous of John for diving into a romantic relationship so much as well as Yoko taking his creative partner away. He always considers himself as the only one who was desperate to keep the band together but he actually made the situation worse by bring several girlfriends into the studio to get his own back. He couldn't help doing it even if he knew how absurd this competition was. As George said, "That really helped put the nail in the coffin."

We all know what happened next: The Beatles was disintegrating while John and Yoko was at the height of their popularity as the high-profile anti-war couple who acted like messengers of peace with the famous slogan "Make love, no war." A succession of eye-catching peace activities during the Vietnam War made JohnandYoko a cultural iron and made John well known as an intellectual, a political figure, a true artist. After his death he was put on a pedestal not even his Beatles colleagues could reach. Till today, even the wife beater image can not weaken his influence, actually, it's part of it for being so famous that even the bad things are so widely known.

I don't like any of their peace events and works (including the song Imagine), nor the saint John people worship who has been reduced to a couple of labels. It's kind of sad to see such a funny man with extraordinary charm be remembered as a hyper serious person talking about world peace. But it can't change the fact that they are the main reasons that made John much more famous than other Beatles. Paul isn't content with it, he has always been trying hard to prove that he deserves the same praise. Those main public images of John are the ones Paul highlights in his interviews and books:

Intellectual

It's an old chestnut that Paul has always been arguing he isn't viewed as an intellectual like John. Obviously it's another competition with John as well his resentment towards stereotype he thinks caused it all. The lad who said "we ain't written no poetry" with his innocent huge eyes widely opened eventually become a bitter gammer babbling "John never had anything like my interest in literature." What a sad thing to see.

Artist

The one Paul seems to care about most - as a rough estimate, praising how artistic Paul is takes up half the length of Many Years From Now. Whether it's avant-garde loops, film, orchestra or painting, he's good at it.

PAUL: We used to have drawing competitions in the group where we'd sit down and say, 'Let's draw Mal,' and mine was often the likeness. I used to catch it. John's were often like crazy, because he couldn't actually draw like that. He did character drawing, he drew his little men, people with bulbous noses with hair coming out of them, bizarre character stuff, but he wasn't actually that good at representing something figuratively.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

(If I never saw his drawings I may buy that Paul is a realist painter more distinguished than John.)

In fact, it connects with the intellectual one, only in a more specific aspect. When it came to making loops, he didn't forget to say he and John was "wildly in reverse" on intellectual level:

PAUL: I was into a lot of those things, which was very strange because I was at the same time known as the cute Beatle, the ballad Beatle or whatever. I hate to think what I was known as. John was the cynical one, the wise Beatle, the intellectual. In fact at that time it was wildly in reverse.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

Political Figure

I don't like this one but it's crucial to John's public image. As he thought John would become "Martin Luther Lennon", Paul must be aware of that too.

He could be a manoeuvring swine, which no one ever realized. Now, since his death, he's become Martin Luther Lennon. But that really wasn't him either. He wasn't some sort of holy saint. He was still really a debunker.

— Paul McCartney, off the record conversation with Hunter Davies, 1981

Paul's rude remarks can be understandable consider what mental state he was in just five months after John been shot dead. But he doesn't seem to mind calling John "a manoeuvring swine", which can be found quoted in Many Years From Now - his official biography written in the 90s.

The others, much as they also loved him, regarded him as a 'manoeuvring swine', as Paul once put it.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

(George and Ringo: How did we get dragged into this?)

He already had a problem with Bagism back in Get Back session. And 30 years later, after praising his leadership in marijuana legalization protest for a whole section in Many Years From Now, the long journey of "Expanding the Field of Consciousness" end up with a comparison with Bagism and Imagine:

This was the first example of Paul's involvement in political lobbying, a skill which he would later apply with great success to saving his local hospital in Rye, Sussex, and in starting and funding the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts. The Beatles signed and paid for the advertisement at his instigation. There was no high-profile posturing. He did not sit in a black bag or sing a song about it, just supported a traditional method of lobbying. In this instance quiet and effective work led to a change in the law - from which he himself benefited when police found pot plants growing on his Scottish farm in 1972.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

In a certain way it is really an intense relationship that both of them can make the other one extremely jealous if any inequality exists. In Paul's case, as a person so insecure and so afraid of losing face, his jealousy also fueled by the public. The competition continues after John's death because he isn't on Lennon's bandwagon of being one of the greatest men in the world. It sounds snobbish but it's hard not to believe this is true.

#i hate 1-video-per-post limit #paul mccartney #john lennon #john and yoko #the beatles #mclennon

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anamatics · 3 years

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Your opinion on old fandom forums vs, fandom today?

I didn't answer this one last night as I wanted to be able to type out a proper response, and one that's partly adapted from an essay I wrote back in 2016.

As a fandom old, I’ve spent a long time in fandom spaces. I did my time with writing slash and het ships, but I always loved writing stories for me about people like me. I have witnessed first-hand the rise and fall of listservs and live journal as places where people who liked femslash gathered to discuss their favorite shows. I know a lot of fandom history. When I comment on the events in fandom, it still comes from my position as a fan, not as a creative. I want to preface all of these thoughts with this.

Fandom used to be something that you didn't talk about. It was secret, never mentioned in public, zines and stories mailed back and forth across the country. The internet changed that, people's attitudes toward things like queer and trans identity changed that, people's want to see diversity on their screens changed that. Yet, at the same time, there is a whole new generation of young queer creatives emerging onto the writing scene who have grown up witnessing the rise and fall of these great, monolithic fandoms that exist beyond the space of shows themselves. More and more, networks, writers, and producers are paying attention to what the fandom says and to what they react to.

This is why I don't really like fandom these days, because I've seen both sides. I struggled with this working on Carmilla as someone who had been, and in may ways still was, a fan. I know fans have power, I've done things because I know fans have power. And yet, I felt like I'd lost my place in a community - in old fandom - because of this realization. And I myself asking questions about my place in new fandom. Questions that, most of the time, had no answers.

Is it valid to be both grateful for the acknowledgement of fan desires within the creative side of television and web writing and a little horrified by the amount of entitlement that any capitulation by those productions seems to engender within fans? Am I valid in feeling trapped by this feeling of wanting to be the best possible arbiter of representation and knowing that I can never be perfect because the perfection demanded by the queer community isn’t achievable? Does my voice even matter in fandom circles anymore because I’ve “crossed over” to the other side? Am I allowed to continue to speak critically about representation in shows that are not my own because I haven’t “fixed mine yet”?

I struggled with this when Carmilla was airing. I still struggle with it now, too, because I see how trolls on Twitter and Tumblr have reacted to folks like me speaking out about problems we see in our communities or within fandom. People like me aren’t allowed to criticize fandom, or fandom culture, because we’re no longer seen as truly a part of it: by being creators who can’t always live up to fandom’s sometimes unreasonable standards, we’re now considered just part of the problem. We can’t critique behaviors and call things out within this fandom community that should also represent us because when we do we’re hurting the fandom community.

Every queer creative out there has shouldered some of this hurt, I know I have. I stand by what I’ve said despite the backlash. If you cannot believe in the truth you speak, what good are you to a community looking to you for change?

Those who speak to the internal problems of fandom culture are shouted down. People with years of fandom experience, who are far more knowledgeable of the history of fandom (and especially the femslash corners of it) and presence in media than the present-day narrative setters, are shouted down and told that we are part of the problem. Creatives who speak out and criticize other works are treated equally poorly. The problem is that in refusing to look at the problems within our fandom spaces, and saying that everyone outside the group is to blame for the problems of poor representation, we are sticking our fingers in our ears and refusing to look at what’s wrong with us. We eat our own.

The queer community – and by extension the queer fandom community – functions like an ouroboros as far as I can tell. That’s the snake from Norse mythology that eats its tail, representing infinity but also representing the inevitable crush of our own bullshit as it comes down around us with the hopes of becoming a better community. There should be a place within this community for everyone, and yet it’s this same space that is preoccupied with gatekeeping characterized by constant infighting, identity policing, and silencing or invalidating opinions that don’t perfectly align with this vision of what is considered acceptable in the eyes of the thinking of the day.

Queerness is messy. There’s a lot of nuance to it. And there will always be people who want their own community within that umbrella of queerness. That’s a valid want. You want to be around people who are homogenous, because it’s when variety is introduced that feelings get hurt. But the existence of a community for marginalized people should not come at the detriment and degradation of other vulnerable people, nor should it come at the expanse of dismissing intersectionality within our community.

But instead, we eat our own. We dismiss trans headcanons like people in old fandom used to dismiss queer headcanons. We're doing the same bullshit, just rinsed and repeated, directed at a new set of people whose voices are smaller than the small specks of power new fandom has granted (cis, white) queer people.

We fight ourselves amongst because we feel as though we cannot fight the forces of our own oppression. We censor ourselves to make sure that we don’t say anything to upend the proverbial apple cart. We do this not because we’re afraid of the problematic elements outside of the community that could come into our community, but rather because we’re afraid of those within our own community who have the power to kick us out from under our own umbrella and back into the rain.

So when I think about fandom these days, I imagine this moment of losing community. I imagine the hurtful message sent, the dismissive post on the forum, the hateful tweet, actions that cost nothing when they are directed at creators, fan writers, fan artists. These people exist to create content that is to be consumed. They aren't human. They aren't even real. They're just the producers of content that fandom sucks up like a vacuum cleaner without bothering to engage with the creators except to demand more or demand better. Nothing makes you feel alienated from your community like realizing you only exist to produce for it and when you don't produce to standards, you are attacked.

What's worse is that a lot of folks in fandom don't even think about this these days. There's no risk in blasting off a message or a tweet. But social media is an echo chamber. It’s a hive mind, and it’s a place where people can get hurt, very badly, and very quickly. Social media should not be used as a weapon to badger the people trying to get into positions where they can create change, which is what I feel new fandom has done. But at the same time, new fandom has also become a space where voices can be uplifted, where people can be seen and heard who maybe weren't before.

So TL;DR, I think social media ruined fandom, I have a lot of baggage/trauma from working on a show as fandom was transitioning from old fandom to new fandom, and like... we have to be better to each other.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #writing #fandom #some commentary that I'll probably delete

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that-was-anticlimactic · 3 years

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reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 3 years

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The Magical Word of JKR

In this post, I want to point out all the inconsistencies of the world that JKR has created. Some of us had been worshiping her for so long. But JKR made mistakes, not only outside her world, but inside.

Owls for muggleborns. Sending a letter through an owl seems to be something common in The Wizarding World. But why do children with a muggle background need to go back in time and use them when they could use a phone? Why can't students use any muggle technology? I know wizards are anti muggle and magic does not allow these devices to function at Hogwarts, but why not?

Drunk portraits. How could portraits get drunk? Did artists paint vessels and digestive systems for them too? How can they bleed? They are portraits with voices and personality based on real people yeah. But they are not alive. They don’t bleed or get drunk.

The trace. Wizards under 17 aren’t supposed to do magic outside Hogwarts. But The Ministry doesn’t seem to control this by which wand did it. But by location. Since Dobby did magic in the Chamber of Secrets, and they blamed Harry for it. So, what happens with pureblood kids? They are allowed to use magic outside school because their families are supposed to, so they wouldn’t trace them. So it seems unfair for muggleborns not to be able to practice magic. Since they are the only members of their family that would do it.

Hogwarts being the only school. There is only one school in all Britain for magical people. Yet there seems to be very few students when there should be a lot. And it doesn’t make sense that Hogwarts is the only choice. Or Hogwarts, or homeschooling.

I don’t understand the population of Magical Folks. It seems little because most of the wizarding families are known. There are only 28 pureblood famous families. They even practise inbreeding, they are all related. But why is that, if the wizard gene is dominant? There are more half bloods and muggleborns than squibs. So the magical population should be as large as the muggle one, even more.

Hogwarts Houses are cool. But the way kids are sorted doesn’t make sense. They get sorted when they are eleven. Seems pretty young to me to form traits and criteria that might change as they grow. Also, let’s say 100 kids enter Hogwarts one year. They won’t be sorted equally 25/25/25/25. Because according to personalities and traits, there could be 60 Gryffindors and 10 Ravenclaws, and 4 Slyhterins, and 25 Hufflepuffs. What if one year, there are no Slytherins for example?

Also, sharing a dorm, common room and classes with people from your same house (same personality and traits) seems boring and unhealthy. Having friends with different personalities, traits and beliefs should help you grow and mature. Sometimes friendships are built between two opposite people. And separating houses, forces students to just hang out with people from their houses, not others.

Love potions. These are the wizarding equivalent of drugs. Think about it. Forcing someone to show love for you is very much like drugging someone and forcing them to do stuff against their will. Love potions can permit things like raping. Something that happened to Tom Sr. by Merope. It is horrible. Yet the wizarding world permits their selling and consumption without a problem. And what’s worse, they teach how to brew it in school to children! A potion like that shouldn’t be allowed or taught.

Azkaban being the only punishment. It seems whether you are a dangerous criminal like a mass murderer or just someone that stole something once, you get the same punishment. Azkaban. An inhumane place where dementors live, and make prisoners go insane, live their worst nightmares or suck their soul. Even characters who were under the imperius curse like Stanley Shunpike. Or even The Marauders would’ve gone to Azkaban if their animagus secret was discovered. No matter what your crime is, always the worst punishment: Azkaban.

Wizards hiding from muggles. The Statue of Secrecy in the Wizarding World seems to be important. But I may ask, how can wizards hide from muggles if they don’t know anything about them? Pureblood Wizards don’t have a clue how muggles live, behave, dress, talk. Not even Arthur Weasley who works in that Department. Yet they want to be unnoticed by muggles? For example, each time a wizard dresses like a muggle they do it wrong, using colorful clothes. Wouldn’t it be suspicious? Like even Vernon sees people in cloaks in book 1, celebrating. Also, if there are a lot of muggleborns, shouldn’t more muggles know about wizards?

It is totally inhumane to just obliviate muggles each time they see something. That spell should have some consequences in their brains. Like for example, Hermione’s parents must’ve had mayhem after their minds were modified.

Memories in pensieves are not supposed to be accurate. Memories are from our point of view. From the perspective of people who lived that memory. When Harry sees Snape’s memories or Bob Ogden’s memories, they seem to be clear. Harry can see Bob and Snape in those memories when they should be seen through their eyes, they are their memories. How could Snape remember himself, see himself. You get my point? Also, memories are subjective, not objective. We remember what impacted us the most, we forget about details we don’t care about. There are feelings involved.

Not having another education after Hogwarts. You graduate from Hogwarts at eighteen. Eighteen! And you're supposed to have figured out what you want to do for the rest of your life. Why aren’t there Wizard Universities? Wizards only have 7 years of education and that’s all. Nothing before, nothing after (unless you’re muggleborn). Seems that the wizard community doesn’t care about education that much. With only seven years of education, are you suddenly prepared for the rest of your life? I don’t think so.

Adding to the last point, wizards only teach about magic. What about math, wouldn’t they need it to count their money, or take care of their finances? What about English, spelling, grammar? Not every kid had the privilege to be homeschooled by their parents before. What about Sex Ed? I think it is important for teens that age to be careful with their sex lives.

Quidditch being the only sport in the wizarding world. Quidditch is cool, I get it. But it is not for everyone. Seems that if you want to be a sports person in the wizarding world, you only have that option. Either you like Quidditch or nothing.Shouldn’t there be other sports? In the muggle world we have tons: football, basquet, tennis, swimming, running, etc.

Love protection is not common. Lily sacrificed herself for Harry. She died for him and that love protection saved his life. Why is Harry the only one to experience it? Is it because of the prophecy? I mean Lily is not the only one who has sacrificed herself for love. Not in the story, not in History. Then why aren’t there more people with lighting scars walking around?

Why don’t wizards cure things with magic like eyesight? They have a potion that grows bones back. But they cannot cure Harry’s eyesight? And don’t say that it is because eyes are connected to the soul, that’s a lame excuse. In the muggle world, eyesight can be cured with surgery.

Hogwarts Express. Yeah, we all wanted to ride the train to Hogwarts. It is part of the experience right? But what if you live in Scotland already? Why bother traveling to London to King Cross Station to take a train if you already live there? It seems like a waste of time. Is there a provided transport for kids who live in Scotland? What about those who don't live in London? What if Scotland is nearer to them than King Cross?

Ghosts. They shouldn’t exist. It is not very well explained how you become a ghost. But it doesn’t make sense that they exist and yet many characters died and didn’t become one.

Discrimination against magical creatures. We know how magical creatures are seen in the Wizarding World. Discrimination exists. But the problem is that Jkr never does anything to fix this.Not with werewolves, not with half giants, surely not with house-elves. The only issue that the war solved was the discrimination against muggleborns.

And house-elves liking their slavery is problematic. It is saying that slavery is right as long as the victim accepts it. She created S.P.E.W and never properly addressed the issue.

The Forbidden Forest is dangerous, yet students have detention there. Dumbledore says at the beginning of each year that the Forest is out of bounds. So why would you send students to detention there, Dumbles? Also, building a school near a forest full of dangerous beasts: werewolves, acromantulas, centaurs, seems kind of risky for children. Not every child obeys the rules. Look at the Marauders spending every full moon there.

How did Hagrid come to be? Hagrid is half giant. Meaning that his father is human, his mother is a giant… Ehemm… Excuse me, but how do you have sex with a giant? That’s physically impossible. How does Hagrid exist?

Male veelas? We are only introduced to female veelas in the Wizarding World. Veelas are these beautiful women that men feel attracted to, they seem in trance by their beauty, and they are not responsible for their actions. It seems to me that JKR is saying that men should not be accountable for their actions when they see a pretty girl, because it is her fault? Pretty feminist, JKR. Also, veelas are dangerous creatures. How do humans procreate with them and have half veelas or a quarter of a veela? Are there male veelas too?

Teachers not having spouses or kids. It is a stupid stereotype that teachers are sad non social people, who are only teaching because they don’t have a choice. Like they are allowed to have social lives, date, get married and have children, right? Name one Hogwarts teacher who is married with kids. They all seem pretty single. And I get it, being single is not a bad thing. But all of them being single just because they are teachers in a boarding school? Just because it was convenient to the author? Only McGonagall married once, but her husband died a few years after.

Abusive teachers. Speaking of teachers, why would Hogwarts allow incompetent teachers that are abusive (Snape), and or are dangerous for kids. None DADA teacher had teaching experience before. And since there is no further education than Hogwarts, how do teachers get prepared for the job? Teaching is not about knowing a lot of stuff about the subject, but knowing how to treat children.

Muggle vs Wizard music. What is the difference between muggle and wizard music? I never understood that. Is it the fact that wizards play music with magic? If so, why would instruments exist? Why would they play instruments? If anyone can make a spell to produce music, then anyone can be a musician. The only difference that I find is that wizard music has wizard related lyrics. Which is a stupid difference. Wizards could write songs about muggles. Muggles could write songs about wizards.

Secret Keeper. The Fidelius Charm should be a spell to hide yourself from others if you are in danger. Period. There shouldn’t be such a thing as a secret keeper. Why? Why would someone else need to know the place you are hiding? James and Lily shouldn’t have trusted anyone with their location. Not even Sirius. Not even someone they trusted, because Sirius or anyone could’ve died and passed the secret to the others. Like, it doesn’t make any sense. And also, how could Bill and Arthur be their own secret keepers but not James and Lily?

Magical therapists. Healers seem to cure physical maladies or illness pretty fine, but what about mental health? And I am not talking about mental problems because of magic. Like Frank, Alice, Lockheart whose minds were affected by spells. I’m talking about mental illnesses such as depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, adhd, ptsd, trauma etc. Don’t tell me wizards don’t suffer that. What about Remus, Sirius, Harry? Who treats these things in the wizarding world?

Time Turner. Only exists for the plot. Otherwise it is useless, stupid and confusing. Time traveling confuses the mind. Also, we don’t exactly know how it works. Is it a domino effect? Do the things you do back in time affect the present? They should. Or does it create different timelines, like it is said in Cursed Child? Also, why not use time turners for important situations? For example, save important people from dying, go back to check events of a crime and see if they are true.

Veritaserum. Wizards have a truth potion and they won’t use it. They should use it on trials to take the truth out of criminals, to see if the accusants are innocent or not. They should’ve used it on each member of the Order to find out who the spy was. They should’ve used it to discover who was the Slytherin heir when the Chamber was opened. They should’ve used it on Harry when he came back from the Graveyard to prove Voldemort was back. Why would that shit exist anyway?

Incest families. Pureblood families, or at least some of them are supposed to practise inbreeding. But if you look at the Black Family Tree, the only Black-Black marriage is between Orion and Walburga. Just one. And even if this was the case, shouldn’t this inbreeding have consequences? I don’t know if it’s the magical gene or what but The Blacks and Malfoys seem pretty fine.

If you know more and you want to add them, feel free to do so. This is a critique to improve this word and fandom ourselves. Even JKR's world is cool and wonderful, it is full of flaws that we need to speak about.

#harry potter fandom #harry potter #wizarding world #jkr is a bad writer #anti jkr #anti snape #wizards #hogwarts #quidditch #maraudersera fandom #muggles #wizards vs muggles

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peppertaemint · 2 years

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So I’m kind of mad because I’m a new BTS fan (I rather not identify as Army cos I just don’t think I fit that mentality) and I’m beginning to feel like I missed their best years?? Not only music-wise but personality-wise as well. Does anyone else feel this way? I look at Vlives and interviews from the past and yes they were probably heavily monitored even then but there was also some degree of spontaneity and their individual personalities really shone through. Now I feel like it’s the same repetitive lines from a script every time they are interviewed and even their behavior in vlives (whenever they could be bothered to do one) seems faker and more robotic. Sometimes they manage to show sparks of their old selves but very rarely nowadays. The only person who still comes across as genuine to me in his interactions with fans is jungkook on his intagram stories, and I bet they’re going to stop those too soon enough. Taehyung also tries, bIess his heart, but there still seems to be something lacking. Jimin is my bias but even I can admit that all we see from him of late (the rare times we even see him) is a carefully crafted idol persona. Even when they claim to be “acting so natural! Wow army we’re not acting like celebrities at all!!” It comes across planned and scripted. I feel so sad and robbed. Maybe it’s the price of their increased popularity and scrutiny, maybe it’s unfair of me to want more, but it honestly sucks. Makes it even worse that they seem to be completely out of inspiration (except when making music for other ppl. I see you Suga) and are focused mostly on charting and awards as opposed to art.And they will likely never know how short they are selling themselves because Army will literally empty their bank accounts for a turd with the BTS logo stamped on it. Hybe will never change their strategy if they keep getting validated financially, the boys will never consider re-evaluating or improving their art if ARMY pukes glitter and rainbows at everything they put out regardless of how bad. I have a tiny glimmer of hope because I have seen more fans openly expressing their dissatisfaction about this upcoming comeback than I ever did before, so maybe there will be just enough of a dip in the sales to cause HYBE to step up their game. A more rational part of me knows however that the sales are going to be through the roof and things are only going to get worse for BTS artistically.

Hi Anon,

I can relate to how you're feeling. When I started paying attention to them, there was this brief period where things felt really buzzy and exciting. The Vlives were spontaneous and funny, their fashion was A+ and Dynamite was this one off that no one expected would become their dominant style. When BE came out, even tho I didn't like the music (except maybe Stay which idk is still kind ehn), the entire thing of it felt like a step in the right direction. I looked back at the editorial shoots that Tae organized the other day, and they are really good. Probably the last time they looked that good. 👁👄👁

BH doesn't seem to be a place where individuality creativity and personality is allowed to flourish, warts and all. I add in that last bit because at some other kpop labels, we see a lot more imperfection and individuality. People trying things and reflecting on it, success or failure. You also see more genuine interactions between artists. Men working with women, people having disagreements or arguments then resolving them. People trolling one another, lol. With BH brands, because I do sense this with TXT too, unfortunately, things feel neutered to a degree. Though watching TXT be bratty en masse is rather something LOL. The company culture is different at BH/Hybe, and it does feel like even BTS are still tip-toeing. They're in their 9th year now. In SHINee's 7th year (I hope I'm mathing right, lol), they signed a contract that gave them huge freedom and last approval above the board. Jonghyun and the others had been writing songs for a while, but with ODD etc, things became that much more artistic and "shinee". For whatever reason, I still don't see this happening with BTS. Instead, things are becoming well... whatever Butter, PTD and collabs are. Top 40 Billboard pop.

#bts #ask #kpop #big hit #hybe

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iovjun · 3 years

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You Were Beautiful — Huang Renjun

PAIRING: huang renjun x reader

GENRE: angst, breakup au

WARNINGS: none, other than the fkn heartbreak :(

SYNOPSIS: You were a novel in itself, your pages filled with words upon words of stories and little problems you ran into. Renjun felt thankful to have appeared in a few of those lines, maybe even a whole chapter filled with nothing but him. But books, too, ended eventually.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

A/N: this one hurt ngl :D TELL ME HOW I DID? DID IT MAKE YOU FEEL? (honorary tag to @yoongistoesuwu who’s always a part of my writing process <3)

The dirt under your nails never felt more uncomfortable. Your little plants stared up at you, their pale green color sickening to look at. Once standing strong and tall, they were now reduced to wilted, feeble, pathetic things. It was a terrible feeling, knowing that you neglected them and they were dying because of you.

You quietly hummed a song as you dusted your hands off and grabbed the small watering can, returning it to it’s temporary spot on the counter. The sun was low in the sky, its golden color washing over the kitchen and your skin. Its beams shone through the wide windows, barely filtered by the thin white curtain.

When you first picked this apartment, the view was one of the many things you loved about it. High above the ground, the city skyline was definitely a sight for sore eyes, especially during these hours when the clouds became an artist’s canvas, a splash of color across the horizon.

As you looked out the window and took a sip of water, the door opened behind you but you didn’t turn. You knew it was just Renjun, and you didn’t have to see him to know that he was probably in that favorite sweater of his, keys dangling from one finger and his phone in his hand.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual.

“Hey,” you acknowledged, twisting to watch him set his keys down.

“Did you eat already?” He opened the fridge, but you already knew it was empty. He realized that fact, closing it and turning away.

You replied, “No.”

“Oh.”

That was it. He didn’t make eye contact, he didn’t come up to give you a kiss, he didn’t invite you to eat elsewhere. He walked away, probably to go sit on the bed while he scrolls through his phone and you stay in the kitchen, watching the sun bid farewell.

When the light faded completely the kitchen was dark but you didn’t bother turning on the lights. The city outside glowed lively and even in this quiet moment you could still hear the honking cars and bustling streets below, sounds you’ve grown accustomed to since moving to the city. The feeling inside you was one you’ve become all too familiar with, yet when put to words you came up blank.

You were never much of a poet anyway, not like Renjun.

The glass of water in your hands was now empty—this you discovered as you brought it back up to your lips for another sip. Sighing, you put in the sink and looked at the time. It was past ten already, how long had you been standing there? The lights outside had been so mesmerizing, so alive, you could get caught up watching other people live their lives while you forget about yours.

Eventually you slipped into bed, wincing at the stone cold sheets. You knew Renjun’s sleeping body was beside you but you pushed that notion away, closing your eyes and trying to get rid of every thought that kept you up at night. Getting good sleep these days was becoming less and less often, but you weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the fact that the person on the other side of the bed turned his back to you every night, and you always drifted off knowing you wouldn’t wake up in his arms the next morning. At this point you felt numb, tears wouldn’t even fall from your eyes anymore, you weren’t even sure what you felt could be described as sadness or anger.

The next day you squinted at your plants on the window sill, trying to determine if they looked better or worse. You supposed it was too early to tell, you barely tended to them the evening before.

Staring out the window was starting to be all too common for you and you hated it. You hated seeing the city outside, the sidewalks you used to walk with Renjun and the cafe events you would attend with him. And sometimes there would be a stray cat in an alley that would, by some miracle, let Renjun pet him. He would pull you in, his hand still grasping yours tightly, and jokingly asked if you could take it home, eyes bright like a child in a toy store. You would chuckle, shaking your head at him and reminding him that pets weren’t allowed in your apartment. Of course, he already knew that but it was a running joke between the both of you.

How you hated those big windows.

Hastily turning, you grabbed your jacket and keys before you let your thoughts wander too far. You reached out to the door but it swung open and you came face to face with Renjun who was arriving as scheduled.

He recoiled in shock and coughed awkwardly, letting go of the doorknob and relaxing his arm. “Hey, were you going somewhere?” he asked, looking away from your eyes.

You stepped back to let him in. “Um, not really,” was your answer. “Why?”

“I just—” he began, bringing up his arm to show a paper bag in his hand. “I brought some food. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s eat then,” you murmured, and with that he walked in, setting down the bag and slipping off his sweater. You caught a whiff of him as he walked by, the scents from outside mixing with his usual aroma. He smelled of spring rain over a jasmine field, it always reminded you of the fresh flowers the waiters at your favorite cafe used to place in each vase.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

The type of silence that had its hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the life out of you, making you clench your fist with force.

Looking back at this scene, no one would’ve ever guessed that just a couple months ago you were engaged to this man.

The food in front of you was spread out in all its glory, just the sight of it was enough to make your mouth water. Renjun sat across from you, his head lowered as he took in the food. You noticed, looking at the logo on the bag, that it was from an unfamiliar restaurant. Your stomach growled in hunger but you didn’t eat.

You couldn’t eat. It felt strange, like you were dining with a stranger. You were conscious of every second that ticked by, every breath you took, every time Renjun moved the slightest inch. It was just too uncomfortable. Perhaps he felt the same, as he grasped his eating utensil tightly, doing nothing more than stare at the meal.

You held in a disappointed sigh, shifting in your seat awkwardly. Neither of you were big talkers anyway, but this wasn’t the comfortable silence you were accustomed to with Renjun.

“How was work?” you asked in a small voice, straightening your back when he lifted his head to look at you.

“It was fine.”

The reality of the situation was becoming too clear. Rain pattered the windows, you could hear the laugh of a passerby in the hallway, probably coming from a late Saturday party. The white, clean walls of a spacey kitchen never felt so small, so suffocating. You were like a burning match, and Renjun was the oxygen that could either blow you out or feed your flames.

By now he would’ve talked your ear off about the managers at work who seemed too demanding for his taste, or the girls that would constantly hit on him, or he would bring up the small succulent you gifted him a while ago that he took care of every day while working. You wondered about his friends and his coworkers, wondering how they were doing. He never talked about them anymore. He didn’t talk about anything anymore, in fact, not with you.

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes anymore.

You had to leave. You stood, the sound of your chair scraping across the linoleum floor harshly ripping through the thick silence. It was pouring outside but you needed to get away. Renjun didn’t move, he knew you both needed it for now. He let you walk past him, heading out the door with only your keys and phone in hand.

It was eating him inside out. You used to look at him with entire galaxies in your eyes, your smile that lit the world brighter than Renjun had ever seen. It was on rainy nights like this that he would take you out to the park and you would sit on a bench, sharing the same umbrella but getting soaked anyway. You would both chuckle at the people running by, hurrying to get some shelter in the cold rain and he would wrap his arm around you, pulling you in so close. The pleasant feeling in your chest was warmer than any jacket you’ve ever worn.

The stars would fall mercy at your feet, for you shined brighter than any of them. Renjun could spend hours painting you, just you. The dainty way your hand held his, the lips that whispered sleepy “l love you’s” every morning, your luscious hair that would tickle him from time to time. And when you laughed, Renjun loved you even more then. Even if it was a quiet, content laugh, or a loud chortle that left you breathless, he could never get enough of it.

It was so cliché but Renjun used to love you like that.

The following day was equally as bleak as the one before.

You stood by the window once again, watching the raindrops race to the bottom of the glass, remembering the times you did that as a child, betting with yourself to see which one made it down first.

This time the sun was nowhere to be seen, obscured by the heavy gray clouds that cried tears. Fog covered the buildings outside like a morbid blanket, and you could feel the chilly air seeping in through the glass when you placed your fingertips on it.

Today was your anniversary with Renjun, and you could only hope that something good came out of the dinner you prepared.

You took your time waiting in the kitchen, watering your flora who were also looking a bit brighter even without the sun. Smiling as you looked down at them, thinking about how they were something to look forward to in your black and white world.

Glancing at the time, you noticed it was getting a bit late, but that was a lie. You were getting ahead of yourself. Renjun was usually on time, arriving around 7:30 pm, and it was barely 7:50. You hoped he didn’t forget what day it was because it would make things even more awkward.

Just as you were placing the last plate on the table, the door opened and Renjun entered, his trademark sweater on and keys in hand. At least that was one thing about him that never changed.

He saw what you had prepared and, for the first time in a while, you saw a small smile on his face. Before you could greet him, he held out his hand, a little flower peeking out from his grasp.

“Happy anniversary,” he said softly.

Your heart sank. It was a single jasmine blossom, a flower that used to be your favorite.

Used to be.

You wouldn’t put it against Renjun for not knowing how much you despised that flower now, hating the sickly sweet smell that drove your anxiety up the wall.

Renjun smelled of spring rain over a jasmine field.

Nonetheless, you plucked the flower from his hand and inhaled its scent, ignoring the way it made your stomach churn as you gently smiled at him. “Happy anniversary,” you repeated, struggling to keep your smile bright. “I made dinner.”

Once the both of you sat down, you tapped your fingers on the table, contemplating if you should fight the silence or let it win again today. Renjun seemed to be deep in thought as well, his hands folded on his lap and his brows furrowed in that way they do when he’s focused on something. His eyes were fixated on your restless hand, and you couldn’t help but assume he was staring at the empty spot where your ring used to be. You clenched your fist and retracted it, mirroring his pose with your hands in your lap. Renjun shook out of his daze and pursed his lips, stabbing at the food on his plate.

“Why are we even doing this?” you spoke, your voice a bit wobbly.

Renjun didn’t even have to ask to know what you were talking about, yet he still felt his heart squeeze at your question. “I don’t know.”

“We’re basically roommates, Renjun. We’re two people that live in the same house but never interact. Why do we keep doing this?” The volume of your voice escalated desperately, and you searched him for an answer but he didn’t look up.

“I don’t know!” he blurted out forcefully.

You pushed your plate away, your appetite suddenly gone. “I don’t think we can make this work anymore.” He stayed silent while you continued. “I’m miserable—we both are.”

The truth was Renjun was afraid of letting you go. He was afraid of coming home to an empty house, of sleeping in an empty bed, of having no one to console him when he was upset. You and him used to live in harmony at some point, a routine where you would understand each other and work together. He’d grown so used to you, the idea of you, that he felt sick thinking of a life without you.

He was afraid of being alone.

Outside the rain came down in waves. It pounded on the window, asking for attention while you waited for Renjun to say something.

He didn’t.

Instead, the sky roared with thunder and a faroff bolt of lightning struck the ground, lighting up the world momentarily. The lightbulb above you flickered once then gave out, as did the rest of the light sources throughout the kitchen. The refrigerator stopped humming, the AC stopped clicking, and the numbers on the microwave faded away, leaving you to stare at your ex-fiancé in the dark.

Renjun couldn’t stand the way you looked at him anymore. Though some of the light in your eyes had faded, they were still filled with hope and trust. At the end of the day you continued to wait for him with open arms. He felt undeserving of your love.

You left the table first, the food laying untouched while Renjun let you walk away again. If he had anything to say in that moment, it stayed painfully lodged in his throat, his own pride choking him up.

A couple months ago, your first fights were terrible. You both raised your voices, ignored each other, even refused to sleep in the same bed (Renjun would stay with a friend when it got bad). He never liked thinking about those times, regretting each and every word he ever directed at you and hating the pain in your expression after. He especially disliked recalling the tears in your eyes when you slid the diamond ring off your finger and placed it in his palm.

After silently clearing the table and checking the breakers, Renjun found his way to the bedroom in the dark, seeing your curled up form under the covers. He didn’t acknowledge you as he slid in next to you, turning his back like always and pulling the covers up to his chin, careful not to pull your side too much.

He closed his eyes but did not sleep, his thoughts running too rampant to let him. Even if he did sleep, he dreamt only of you. Of when you first met, of your first date, of the day he got on one knee and asked for your hand. He could never forget the happiness in your voice, the jubilant smile you wore beautifully.

“Renjun,” he heard you whisper into the inky bedroom, the sound just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m cold.”

It was anything but cold under the blankets, but Renjun did feel chilled, hollow. Like he was disconnected from his body somehow. “I know,” he replied quietly. “Me too.”

You didn’t respond but he turned, cautiously putting his arm around you and you let him, tears springing to your eyes. It had been a while since you laid in this position with him, you nestled in his chest while he buried his nose in your neck or hair and he was so close you could feel each breath he took. It felt strange yet familiar, like that sense of déjà vu you get when it feels like you already went through something. But maybe your brain conjured up this bittersweet dream, maybe this reality was just in your head.

Maybe Renjun would still love you when you woke up.

“Your flowers are dead.”

Renjun stood by the window, a dry, wilted leaf resting on his finger. He studied it for a moment, and then let it go. It crumbled to pieces.

“I don’t care about them anymore,” you voiced. “It took me too much effort to keep them alive.”

He nodded in understanding, though he knew those plants meant a lot to you. Sometimes on days when you were tired, he’d remind you to water them or even do it himself. Not once had your flowers ever looked the way they did now—dull, withered, dead.

A long, painful beat of silence passed. Renjun gazed out the window, taking in the familiar sun that hasn’t shown itself in days. The heavy clouds had finally lifted that day, revealing a fading orange and red sky. You watched him from the counter, the way the golden light bounced off his skin, creating a heavenly, ethereal glow. The silver bracelet he wore on his wrist reflected the beams, projecting them onto the ceiling above.

You looked down, away from the man who you promised your life to once upon a time. A million thoughts raced through your head, too cryptic to comprehend. All you knew was that whatever you and Renjun had hurt too much to keep going. Clenching your fist, you braced yourself for your next words.

“Let’s end this Renjun.”

For once, he turned to look at you, his eyes dry of tears but filled with pain. Every fiber of his being screamed for you, to be happy in your arms again, to hear the words ‘my love’ fall from your lips one more time. He bit his lip and pushed down those longing thoughts, the ones that were on his mind far too much these days.

He made the hardest decision of his life—he chose to let go of you. On that day, that minute, that split second, he looked into your eyes and knew it was the end of a love story.

Renjun knew he loved you, but he fell out of love with you a long time ago.

You were once his morning and night sky, his sunflower fields, his walk in the clouds. Whoever the creator was smiled upon you, blessing you with a kind of spirit that brought peace and adventure at the same time. Being with you felt like an impulsive car ride along the coastline, the wind blowing your hair wildly, screaming and throwing your arms up as if it was a rollercoaster ride. Or like a lazy afternoon, sleeping the whole day while the sun made its path across the sky, only being woken up by kisses and giggles and legs tangled in the bedsheets.

Beyond your monotonous life were other people also moving on. Friends came and went, that random stranger you saw on the street you would probably never see again, enjoying an unfamiliar song in a cafe that would slip your mind as soon as you left. People lived, people died, but the world kept revolving, never stopping, never giving anyone a break.

That was the beauty of it.

Renjun didn’t feel angry or sad or even bitter. He was thankful. He was thankful for the countless moments spent with you, for all the laughs and tears you shared, for the quiet and loud moments, for the breath of air you were to him. You were a novel in itself, your pages filled with words upon words of stories and little problems you ran into. Renjun felt thankful to have appeared in a few of those lines, maybe even a whole chapter filled with nothing but him.

But books, too, ended eventually.

The last blow to his heart was when he looked back, seeing you standing in the doorway with a wounded expression. The windows behind you were as translucent as ever, pouring light over your perfect form. Your hair flared brightly from the orange backlight and you leaned on the frame, one second away from screaming at him to come back.

He considered returning, mumbling an ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ but that would only delay the inevitable, not stop it. At the end of the day, it was still over. But it was okay, because looking back now at all the love you used to share, he realized it was beautiful.

You were beautiful.

161 notes · View notes

worldsover · 3 years

Text

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 1 - Ribbit

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, THE meetcute of meetcutes. 2.1k

Edit: thank you so much @trevor-wilson-covington for the pretty edit!! I'm in love with it!

Alex drummed his fingers on the armrest of his seat in the van. The drive from Los Angeles to Vegas was just short of four hours, but it had been an early morning and it was going to be a long day. He was feeling the carsickness sit just under the threshold of dangerous and rolled down the window.

“Whoo! Twenty miles boys!” Luke called out as they passed a sign on the freeway, clapping Bobby on the shoulder from behind.

“Woohoo!” Bobby responded in excitement.

“Think you’re gonna make it, buddy?” Reggie looked over at Alex. Alex turned only a fraction of the way toward his friend and gave a half-hearted nod.

“Hey man, let us know if we gotta pull over,” Luke said.

He simply nodded. Next time he wasn’t going to sit in the back.

The other three were jamming to whatever Luke was riffing on his guitar. Bobby thankfully drove at a slower pace as they approached the final stretch toward their destination. The ache in his stomach didn’t get better, but it also didn’t get worse so he was banking on it calming down once they stopped.

“Hey, guys, we wanna stop somewhere and get breakfast first?” Bobby called out to the rest of them.

“Oh yeah!” Reggie said. “I think I could go for some pancakes.”

“Oh, pancakes sound real good right now.” Luke echoed.

“Alex?” Bobby peeked into the rearview mirror at him.

Looking up from the view outside, he just shrugged. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure he could handle food no matter what it was.

Eventually they pulled off the freeway and kept their eyes peeled for an open restaurant.

“I see pancakes!” Reggie cried, pointing at his target.

“They’ve got an arcade next door, I second that vote!” Bobby said.

As they parked and clambered out of the van, the boys stretched and shook their limbs. They entered the diner and found a booth, practically collapsing together on the table. Alex placed his face in his hands and tried taking in deep breaths to calm his stomach. A sudden voice was heard beside the table.

“Good morning starshines, the earth says hello! How are we doing today?” Sounded like a waiter. Alex felt rude, but didn’t bother to look up. He felt Luke nudge a menu under his elbow.

“Oh, we’re hungry!” Reggie responded.

“Awesome, guys,” the waiter said. “Anything I can get started for you?”

“We’ll go with water,” Luke spoke for everyone at the table. “And, sorry about him, he’s not feeling good.” Alex assumed this was about him and sighed.

“Okay, so water for everybody? Alright, I’ll just grab those for you while you prepare your orders.”

As the waiter left, Luke tapped Alex’s shoulder.

“How you doin’, Alex?”

“Not blowing chunks, I guess,” he groaned.

“Hey, guys,” Bobby started saying. “How about we pick what we wanna eat, and then I want to check out the arcade while we wait for our food.”

“That’s a good idea,” Reggie said, perking up. “I hope they have Galaga.”

“I’m down,” Luke said. “Alex, you wanna wait here for us? You can give the guy our orders and then just chill.”

“Maybe that stomach will settle down,” Reggie added.

Alex lowered his hands and rested them on the table.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I need the space anyway. Thanks.”

“Cool,” Luke hopped up from his seat. “Uh, I’ll just do the buttermilk pancakes.”

“Make that two buttermilk pancakes!” Reggie said, holding up his fingers.

“Eggs and sausage,” Bobby told him. “And buttermilk pancakes.” He patted Alex on the back as the three of them ventured next door.

At least they were easy to remember. Alex looked around the restaurant as he kept breathing in and out slowly. He was the only person there. That was surprising for a diner just outside of Vegas around ten in the morning. He didn’t mind the quiet, though. Having all this space to himself was already helping him feel better.

A guy with long dark hair approached him with a tray carrying glasses of water. Alex gulped as he watched, his breath catching in his throat. He took in the tie-dye shirt, the ripped jeans, and puka shell necklace and guessed he was probably from California as well.

“Whoa, where’d they all go?” the waiter asked, smiling a little in confusion.

Alex blinked.

“They, uh, they went to the arcade,” he managed to get out. He couldn’t help it, this guy had a nice smile.

“Ah,” the guy raised his eyebrows and began placing the water on the table. “And they left you behind? That sucks.”

“I’m okay,” Alex said. “We’ve just been on the road for a bit and I got kinda carsick, so I needed some space anyway.”

“I’m sorry, man,” the waiter said. “Did they decide what to eat before they bailed?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alex shifted to face him better. “They all want buttermilk pancakes and then one guy also wants eggs and sausage.”

“Three buttermilks…” the guy muttered as he wrote them down. “Eggs and sausage. And do you know what you want?”

He looked directly into Alex’s eyes as he rested the tray under his arm and it took everything Alex had not to melt right there. Don’t look at his lips, he thought. He was pretty sure his eyes had betrayed him but he forced his gaze downward as a cover.

“I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I actually forgot to look at the menu.”

“Right, ‘cuz you were carsick, sorry” the waiter chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Alex bit his tongue.

“I should probably get some food still,” he managed to say. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Right on. I could recommend some toast - that’s always easy on the stomach. That comes with eggs, and I could add in some banana for you.”

“That actually sounds great,” Alex told him. “I’ll just do that, then.”

The waiter smiled and bit his lip.

“‘Kay!” He lifted the tray from under his arm and headed back toward the kitchen, doing a little skip before disappearing inside.

Alex felt his hands shaking and he sat on them for a minute. Looking around the empty diner, a thought occurred that somehow with just him and the waiter it had seemed full. The strange feeling crept all over him, like a new exhilarating energy, and he moved his hands back up. The waiter popped back out of the kitchen and came back toward Alex in a cavalier fashion.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. “I don’t exactly have other people to help and I feel bad leaving you all by yourself in here.”

“Make yourself at home,” Alex said, gesturing to the seat across from him. Make yourself at home? What is that? he berated himself.

The guy extended a hand for him to shake. “I’m Willie, by the way.”

“Alex.” As he took it, Alex returned the firm grip he received and they both chuckled a bit at noticing each other’s strength. Willie sat down and immediately grabbed a napkin from the dispenser.

“So you said you and your friends have a long day ahead of you?” he asked.

“Oh right,” Alex couldn’t believe he had forgotten about the guys for a minute. “We’re a band, so we’ve got a gig opening for Julie Molina tonight.”

“Wicked,” Willie smiled and nodded, folding the napkin into something Alex wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. “Who’s Julie Molina?”

“Oh, she’s just a good solo artist - does a little bit of everything. My buddy Luke is really into her.”

Willie nodded some more, continuing to fold the napkin.

“And who are you guys?”

“We’re Sunset Curve,” Alex said. “I’m the drummer.”

“Right on! You guys just becoming a thing?” Willie raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, I guess so,” Alex hadn’t exactly thought about it. “Opening for Julie is a big step for us.”

He watched Willie’s hands work until he finished. It turned out to be an origami frog.

“Ribbit,” Willie said, pressing on the top to make it look like it was moving. The napkin material didn’t exactly lend to bouncing up and down, which made them both giggle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be distracting.”

“I don’t mind,” Alex said. “It’s entertaining.”

He realized how widely he was smiling and laughed to himself.

“What about you?” he asked.

Willie straightened his posture and ran a hand through his hair again. He flailed his arms and blew out his cheeks before holding one arm with the other and leaning on the table.

“Making it on my own for now. I just do whatever feels good, you know? Make a few bucks, get out and enjoy what I find. Don’t need a whole lot to be happy.”

Wow, Alex wanted that kind of chill. He picked up the origami frog.

“What do you do when you’re not here? Besides these, of course.”

Willie shrugged.

“Skate. Be free.” He smiled, but sighed heavily. Alex saw a distant look in his eyes, but knew now wasn’t a time to address it. “I see Vegas in all its glory. You should see the lights at night.”

“Won’t I see them tonight?”

Willie shook his head.

“Not the right way,” he told him. “Not at the right angle. I would show you, but you’ve got your gig and everything.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but a head stuck out of the kitchen door. A man with dark hair and chiseled features looked at Willie and all he did was glare authoritatively.

“I’m - coming,” Willie stammered, rising from his seat.

Alex realized his mouth was still open and he shut it, unhappily swallowing what he’d wanted to say.

“That was my boss,” Willie said, already in a hurry. “I’m sorry, I’ll be back when your food’s ready.” He rushed off and the diner felt empty and cold again.

As if on cue, Luke, Bobby and Reggie burst back through the door. Luke and Reggie were celebrating while Bobby seemed a little less enthusiastic.

“Dun-geon slay-er!” Reggie proclaimed in a mock deep voice. “Too bad we can’t stay longer and go for that tournament today; I would have whooped everyone.”

They all sat and immediately gulped down their waters. Bobby remained quiet.

“How was the arcade?” Alex asked.

“It was sweet,” Luke reported. “Bobby’s mad because Reggie mopped the floor with him.”

“The joystick wasn’t working right, it wasn’t a fair outcome,” Bobby defended.

“Oooohhh,” Reggie made a silly face and wiggled his fingers. “Bobby only loses when the game doesn’t work, ooohhh!”

Alex shook his head and laughed mildly. He only noticed then that his stomach had stopped bothering him completely. He hadn’t even felt it when he’d been talking with Willie. He finished his own water, and was happy not to feel anything as it went down. The origami frog was still on the table.

“Hey, Alex,” Reggie said, picking it up. “Did you make this?”

“Oh, no, Willie did,” he told him.

“Who’s Willie?” Luke asked.

Speak of the devil - the kitchen door opened and Willie came out carrying their plates.

“Alright, we got pancakes, pancakes, more pancakes,” he said, placing them where they belonged. He glanced at Alex quickly, but it was too quick to read. “Who had the eggs and sausage?”

“That was me,” Bobby said, raising his hand.

“Okay,” Willie passed it over to him. “And toast and eggs with a banana.” He smiled as he set it down before Alex. “And it looks like you all need more water, I’ll be right back!” He was gone too quickly again.

The change in his mood unsettled Alex, but maybe it was because Willie was working. As he saw Willie returning with the water pitcher he had an idea.

“Hey Luke,” he said. Luke turned to him expectantly as Willie silently poured water in their glasses.

“Where are we playing again?”

Luke looked confused. Willie was listening intently.

“The Pearl, why? How could you forget?”

“And what time do we play?”

“Eight o’ clock. You sure you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah. I was… I was just testing you, cuz sometimes you don’t remember.”

Luke looked around the table defensively.

Reggie shrugged. “He’s right. But you remembered this time!”

Alex felt bad about starting Luke in an argument as he listened to them continue, but he knew it would blow over quickly. He caught Willie looking back at him and nodding as he walked away. As he returned to his food, Bobby smirked at him and shook his head. Heat rose in his cheeks and he focused on his toast.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #viva las vegas #ribbit #fiddlepickdouglas #meetcute

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milkybonya · 3 years

Text

In THE DaRk

order 004 for anon: large coconut milk tea (In THE DaRk by BOBBy) with regular tapioca pearls and fresh taro

Warnings: food mentions

Pairing: idol!Hui x delivery worker!reader

Summary: you deliver food to cube ent. and end up becoming friends with Hui, an idol who's at the peak of his career... but he finds himself falling for you even as his songs rise on the charts :")

Word count: like maybe 3k?

[a/n]: i love this request because i love this song and writing it while listening to the song on loop in the dark of my room just made me so happy? also i put wayyyy more effort into this than necessary and it turned out super long >.< i'm so sorry anonnie i hope you like itttt ahhh

Shine, you shine on my existence

Sure, Hui was an idol with a life of his own - especially now, during Shine promotions, that his group, PENTAGON, was blowing up. Yet he never failed to make time for you, because you were the light of his life.

As a hardworking idol who was always cooped up in his studio and skipping meals, his members encouraged him to at least order food. He was reluctant but eventually agreed, not wanting to make them worry.

That's where you came in: a delivery worker at a local restaurant not too far from Cube entertainment, Hui's company. A lot of people ordered from your restaurant to Cube, so you weren't surprised when a new order flashed on the iPad screen at your workplace.

"We've got another delivery, [y/n]," the worker at the front told you with a smile, walking to the back to tell the cooks what to prepare.

You tapped your feet against the ground, awaiting the order. Once it was prepared, you carefully placed it in your delivery bag, fastened it to your bike and off you went, wearing a helmet of course.

The gentle breeze was enough to cheer you up and give you energy, despite the scene around you being full of traffic and slightly bleak.

Once you arrived, the guards let you in without even checking your workplace ID this time, recognizing you as a trusted delivery person.

You made your way up to the floor listed on the order, roaming through countless hallways until you finally found the right room. Judging by the area and the doors, it seemed to be full of studios.

The person who ordered this must be working hard, you thought to yourself.

Suddenly, you got an urge to leave a note, wishing the person well. You took out a scrap piece of paper and a pen that you always had handy, your heart racing and your hands shaking at the thought of doing this. You were excited at the idea of the person being happy to see such a cheerful note...

I hope you enjoy this meal and that it gives you enough energy to keep working hard :) Go for it!

After neatly placing the food and note at the door, you knocked and walked away, not wanting to bother the person. Even though you didn't turn your back, you heard the door open a few seconds later.

"Thank you!" a voice echoed through the hall.

You turned quickly to say ‘you’re welcome’ in response and caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a young idol hard at work. His hair was messy and he had dark circles under his eyes, but his mismatches clothes and bright smile were quite cute.

You thought that would be the last you’d see of him, but from that day onwards, he always ordered food from your restaurant at the same time: 2:09pm. Why so specific? You weren’t sure, but that’s how it was, and you being the only delivery worker at your restaurant meant that it would always be you taking the food to him.

The second time you went, you were surprised to see a note waiting on the door for you.

Thank you for your cheerful message... I’ll do my best to work harder!

It made you smile and you decided to leave another note with his order, this time just asking him what his favourite side dishes were so you could tell the cooks to put more of those in next time. Instead of him leaving a note for you with the response, though, Hui decided to text you this time so he wouldn't have to wait for you to make another delivery before you could see his response.

Unknown: This is Hui! Ah, I ordered food from you at 2:09pm? I'm not really picky on side dishes, but one of my members likes kimchi, so could you make sure to leave more of that for me?

You: sure, of course! but how did you get my number?

Hardworking Hui: Ah, sorry! It was on the app since you're the delivery worker... for me to contact you in case you get lost? I'm sorry!

You: No, that's okay! i just wanted to be sure ^^

So after that day, you made sure Hui always got extra kimchi with his order. He would always greet you at the door of his studio, quickly asking about your day and how you were doing. Truthfully, he actually wanted to ask you to come inside so he could talk with you some more, because the two of you would always get an interesting conversation going before you declared you had to leave.

Since he was too shy to ask you in person, he texted you, instead.

Hardworking Hui: could you get the rest of the day off after delivering my order today?

You: why?

Hardworking Hui: so you can eat with me? if that's okay? or just take an hour off!

You: ...

You: Only if you pay for my food :P

Hardworking Hui: deal

So that day, you asked your manager for the hour off from 2:30pm to 3:30pm. She agreed, knowing that you always work hard and deserve a break.

Showing up to Hui's studio with his usual order and some food for yourself in your hands, you knocked a little nervously this time, knowing that this wouldn't just be a delivery, but a whole... hang out? Type of thing?

Hui had made sure to clean his studio to the best of his ability, making sure that there was another comfy chair for you to sit on and that the room didn't smell bad or anything. He lit a couple of candles and vacuumed the place so there would be no dust. When you knocked on the door, he jumped out of his seat with excitement, immediately opening it.

"Hi! Come in," he said, holding the door open so you could step inside. Seeing the cosy, dimly lit space left you in awe.

"It's so cool to see where you've been working away for all this time," you said, sitting down on a chair and putting the food down.

"Yeah... sometimes I get tired of it, but it's home," Hui said, sitting on his studio chair and opening up the food.

"Ah... where's the kimchi?" Hui asked, pointing at all the dishes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I told the cook to include my favourite side dish too, but he must have just replaced the kimchi with this instead, I'm so sorry!"

Hui laughed, shaking his head.

"It's completely fine!" he said, handing you your favourite side dish.

As the two of you began eating, you were able to get to know each other more as you spoke and asked each other questions. Even though it was a little silly asking for each other's favourite colours and seasons, it was a lot of fun, and the two of you turned out to have a lot in common.

Tears are erased by my emotions / Add, add colour to the world

After that day, you weren't just a delivery worker for Hui, and he wasn't just a customer to you. The two of you became close friends, attending the concerts of your favourite artists together. Hui would joke and say that he was attending for work reasons, trying to gain musical inspiration, while you had no real reason to be there. You'd slap his shoulder lightly, telling him to watch his words while he'd laugh at your reaction.

Even though his work was stressful at times, it was days like those that seemed to make him cry in reverse, if that was even possible? You showed up and turned his world around, adding colour onto his black and white canvas.

His members even told him that he seemed more cheerful and energetic despite still working hard in the studio, and Hui even told you that his songwriting process seemed to be running more smoothly.

"I'm so glad we became friends," he told you, leaning his head on your shoulder one day as the two of you sat on a park bench. You smiled, strongly agreeing with him in your own heart.

But do you remember when I mentioned Shine promotions at the beginning of this? Well, let's skip forward to that point.

By then, you had seen Hui and his group perform quite a few times, whether it was at concerts, music shows or even on the TV at your home. You were incredibly proud of him and wanted nothing but for him to succeed.

Every time Hui found you in the crowd at any of his live performances, he'd feel some kind of crazy adrenaline rush as all of his tiredness just seemed to magically disappear. He'd perform as if rent was due just because you gave him the energy to do so.

"Was [y/n] watching us again?" Hyunggu asked backstage after another performance for Shine ended safely.

"Yeah, I saw them there!" Hongseok confirmed.

"Plus, you can tell by the way Hui is acting," Yuto laughed, nodding towards Hui who was frantically texting you asking you if you'd left completely.

You told him you were still at the venue, and he begged you to come backstage. When you arrived, you greeted all of the Pentaboys, who adored you almost as much as Hui did, before joining Hui at his makeup table. You greeted the makeup artist too, out of respect, before asking Hui why he needed to see you so urgently.

"We might win today... I just wanted you to be by my side as good luck," he explained, a clearly worried expression on his face.

It was a shock to you that despite Shine doing so well on the charts, Pentagon still had not gotten their first win, but you knew they were an amazing group, regardless.

What you doing now? What's your plan now?

You placed your hand on top of Hui's, which rested on his own thigh.

"Hui, I know you haven't been getting all the wins you've been expecting, but we can't deny that this song is absolutely a bop and you have all been killing it!" you told him with a smile.

You couldn't tell whether or not your words had any sort of effect on him because he was looking down, but you hoped they at least didn't make him feel worse.

The rest of the Pentaboys cheered hearing your words though, feeling energized at your honest observation.

Hui was looking down because his stomach was tied in knots at the feeling of your hand on his. It was something he'd never felt before... butterflies? He tried to shrug it off but he couldn't stop wondering about your intentions... did you place your hand over his for a reason? What were you trying to tell him? What were you planning?

Inside my brain, after making a place for you / You make it impossible for me to sleep

That night, Hui still couldn't stop thinking about your simple gesture. You didn't mean anything by it, right? It was just a friend comforting a friend... the two of you had been friends for a while now, so why was he thinking into this so much?

As feelings of sleepiness took over, he drowsily wondered what it would be like to hold your hand rather than to just have his hand underneath yours. What would it be like to be held by you?

The next day, with more promotions ahead, you made sure to send Hui a text of good luck. You wouldn't be able to watch from the live audience that day, since you had work and deliveries to carry out, but you still wanted him to know that you were thinking of him.

Hui couldn't stop staring at your message of good luck for the whole day, pressing his finger on the heart emoji that you added at the end of your message.

"Hui hyung, are you reading something?" Wooseok asked the leader, sitting beside him on the sofa in the waiting room.

"Huh? N-no," Hui quickly said with a laugh, tucking his phone away.

"You've been staring at your phone all day... what is it, is it a fun webtoon?"

"No, no! Don't worry about it," Hui laughed, ruffling the tall boy's hair.

Wooseok whined, yelling about how the stylist just did his hair. Meanwhile, Hui's heart was racing. Why had he been staring at your text message all day?

You: I'm thinking of you today, Hui! Go get em, good luck <3

Are you thinking of me in this dawn? / I wish there was a continuous portal from my room to yours

Again, that night, Hui couldn't stop thinking about you. This time, it was about the message you'd sent him. He still had it open and was staring at it. He wondered if, when you said you were thinking of him, did that mean you were thinking of him right then and there too? At the same time when he was thinking about you?

Were your sleepless thoughts filled with him, just like his were filled with you-?

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Shit.

He'd been staring at your text and holding his phone so tightly that he accidentally pressed the call icon next to your name.

"Hello?" you answered sleepily. It was 3am and you had been asleep.

"H-hello? [y/n]?"

"Yes, Hui, what is it?"

"I uh..."

He desperately tried to think of an excuse for calling you, any reason-

"I wish there was a portal that went directly from my room to yours."

Really, Hui? Was that the best thing you could think of?

His heart raced and he smiled as he heard your laugh on the other end. He didn't realize he'd balled his other hand into a fist until your laughter made him calm down.

"What are you saying, Hui?"

"I miss you..." he mumbled.

Despite being sleepy, his words still made you nervous. Your heart raced and you wondered what he was trying to tell you.

"I m-miss you too," you croaked out.

"Really?" Hui asked you, sitting up in bed.

"Yeah, really," you said, laughing. It wasn't a lie, either. You'd been watching all of his performances on your phone that day while working, almost falling off your bike because you were that invested. In him.

"Do you wanna meet up now?"

"Now?" you spluttered.

"Yeah... by the Han River?"

You paused for a while before answering.

"Let's do it."

Even if I breathe in the cold air / It feels sweet, so sweet

"AHHH IT'S SO COOOOLD!" Hui yelled into the night air, rubbing his arms and running around in circles beside you.

"Here, take my coat," you said, but instead just wrapping your arms around him.

Hui tensed up, wondering if your arm that was wrapped around his chest could feel his heartbeat.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked.

"Providing you with warmth," you said.

You also felt butterflies stirring within you, realizing that maybe you saw Hui as more than just a friend. Yet you shrugged it off, telling yourself that Hui was an idol and you were just a delivery worker.

You can't know my pathetic feelings / Even if I've confessed a hundred times inside my brain / I'm invisible to you

Hui stayed quiet, closing his eyes tightly and enjoying the feeling of being in your arms on this cold night. He knew this embrace wouldn't last and that maybe it wouldn't happen again, because in his mind, he was invisible to you. Just a friend who you goofed around with, but all of your jokes made his heart rush.

The two of you ran around the grassy banks of Han River together, laughing into the night and chasing each other like kids. Each time Hui caught up to you, he'd wrap his small frame around you so tightly that it made you lose your breath. You told yourself it was just because you were running so hard, but it was definitely something else.

As the sun was beginning to rise and the two of you were finally in your homes, trying to get some sleep, Hui imagined what it would be like to confess to you. What if he confessed right there and then when you hugged him by the Han River? What if he told you how much he likes you and... what if you felt the same? What if you cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed him right there as the river reflected the starlight from the sky...? What if Hui would drop his phone in shock but would kiss you back more passionately?

No, Hui. No.

If I ever want you to feel the same / That must be greedy, that'd probably be a chance to peek into heaven / 'Cause you are angel

There was no way any of that would ever happen. There was no way you would ever like him back, at least for Hui. You were way too good for him, an angel on this planet full of demons and sinners.

Little did he know that you were also squinting at the sun, struggling to get some sleep as you thought of the way Hui would press his face into your chest every time he caught up to you at the Han River as you chased each other for fun. His bright smile and gentle laughter made your heart feel like the Han River itself, gently flowing along but filled with such a refreshing feeling.

After another week of intense Shine promotions, Hui feeling all sorts of emotions as Shine continued to soar while his feelings for you also grew, it became unbearable. The two of you would talk late into the night, whether it was sending texts because Hui was busy working or whether it was phone calls. Hui thought about you every second of every day and always missed you a ton.

Please know that I like you / I just want to be there for the rest of your life

Hui asked you to meet him in his studio one evening, as he knew your work schedule and knew that you were free. You agreed, slightly confused as to how he was making time to meet with you despite being so busy.

"Hui, I'm here!" you sang, opening the door to his studio and finding him sitting there in his chair, looking especially cute as his hair was slightly ruffled and he wore a big, comfy hoodie.

"[y/n], I have to tell you something," he said, with a slightly sad smile.

"Yeah, what is it?"

You grew worried, but decided not to make a fuss over anything just yet.

"So, for some time now.... well, of course we've been good friends, and I don't want this to ruin that if you don't feel the same..."

He sighed mid-sentence.

"Gosh, I don't know why I'm rambling," he said with a laugh.

You instinctively laughed along.

"Well, [y/n]. I like you... a lot. I know it's pathetic for me to feel this way when I don't even deserve you, but-"

"You like me?" you cut him off.

Hui nodded in response, looking slightly red now.

Nervous and absolutely bewildered, you starting laughing to yourself, making Hui worry if he'd said something wrong.

"Hui, I... I like you too, what the hell?! And here I was thinking I was pathetic!"

"You're not pathetic at all!" Hui said, grinning widely and bright red in the face upon hearing your answer to his confession.

Both of you nervously smiled at each other for some time before Hui broke the silence.

"I know... it may be hard to date me... well no, it will be hard to date me since I'm an idol, but I promise I'll give this my everything. It's a given, because of how much I like you and how lucky I am for you to even date me-"

"I never said I was dating you," you joked.

"What?" Hui asked in shock.

"I'm joking! Hui, it's okay. We'll get through these difficulties together, whatever they may be," you said, holding half of his face in your right hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Hui leaned into your touch, closing his eyes.

"You're right," he said, before turning his face and pressing his lips to your hand.

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

Text

10 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats also i think i dont get? because without the series or character names, what of any of the promo images or banner or anything else give away it's supposed to be a greek mythology story? they just look like people with weird anatomy who are colored like highlighters. at the very least some iconography should be on them, but there's not? like even percy jackson stuff makes sure to give him a trident and have water flowing around him.

2. rachel made three times where persephone could have made the choice to be with hades willingly and didnt do it each time. first time she was drugged and put into his car, where he phsyically handles her unconscious body and puts her in his bed (ew). second is her working for him, which was hera forcing it. third was her going to the underworld not because she wanted to, but because she was hiding from the law/apollo and he found her. where exactly is her agency in all of this?

3. LO seems like the fast food of webtoons. because there's no room to speculate or theorize, you just read an episode and move on, the bright colors distract that it's a rushed and lazy product over something with high quality and effort, the characters are flat and boring, and the plot has no substance. it's meant to be consumed in a rapid binge, because if not you realize what low-effort and what little you're actually getting from it when you slow down and actually think about it.

4. i mean rachel does have some logic to her fancasting, the problem is it seems the only people of color are either demonized for being hypersexual (aphrodite, eros until he's with psyche) or are literally r//pists who are out to harm her white-fa casted persephone (apollo), so yeah, there is logic there, it's just pointing to rachel being (hopefully unintentionally) racist

5. It pisses me so much that I work over time (using references and looking at paintings and reading history for ideas for interesting character motifs) so that any of the ancient greek characters I draw look cool and authentically greek, and yet fucking Rachel Smythe, who can't even be bothered to do more than 5 seconds of research to learn that not all ancient greek outfits were shitty, minimalist off white and eggshell, gets to be revered as an artistic revolutionary. It pisses me off so. Fucking. Much. Not just for me, but for everyone else like me who absolutely ADORES greek mythology and wants to draw accurate portrayals of these characters! To whoever is reading this, stop. Stop rn and go read Sleep and His Brother Death (a comic on webtoons), go play Hades (the video game), go read The Song of Achilles (a book by Madeline Miller). Those are beautiful pieces of fiction about Greek mythology that deserve your attention more then Rachel and her shitty pink highlighter self inserts.

And a sidenote, I know that this is kinda like a modern AU for the gods. I am aware. Does not change that fact that anytime any character is drawn in ancient greek fashion it's always the SAME. SHITTY. CHITON. Maybe with a.cape or a scarf, but for the most part? It's just the same stupid, off white chiton.

6. oh, i thought you guys were joking persephone is now stuck with red eyes. is that seriously what look we're stuck with now? does rachel know it looks really ugly?

7. i feel like the lineart less style actually hurts LO in a way. way too often you can look at a panel and it becomes really murky where something starts and ends, and it looks even worse on a phone screen, because on an even smaller screen the images look even more compressed, making it even harder to tell stuff apart. this wouldnt be as bad if the comic took back up its more high contrast look from the begging, but now it's all one flat shade and im not sure why.

8. im really confused over the marketing of LO, tbh. like the ads are all hxp focused, but the series name implies its not about them, but focusing on the 12 olympians, but then the synopsis is general mythology and at the very end randomly mentions its about persephone? but then you read it and nots sure whether its a teen romance, a comedy, a serious drama, and can't stay straight with its messaging and timeline? and persephone is not there for a chunk of time. like whats actually going on?? 😭

9. Chapter 173 is like 50% filler. It gives more questions that answers, and not just from the reporters. Like the reporter stuff was mostly filler, and the Persphone and Hades stuff was like yeah we know dont need to drag this on.

My questions are WHAT ARE THE RED EYES? Is it when she’s mad? Horny? Sad? Happy? I feel like the red eyes just show up whenever RS wants to draw them

Flying? I feel like Persphone has always been flying like it wasn’t a bug moment at all. She flew home when Minthe and Hades kissed. But apperently Demeter didn’t know? I guess I don’t remember her flying in the mortal realm but her flying didn’t seem like a big moment, none of the other characters seemed surprised by it.

“Answer mine first!” When i got to that line I reread some of it just to find where the question was. That line normally matters when you’ve already asked the question not if you haven’t gotten there yet. Like of course Demeter is gonna be worried and ask a million questions.

I know the pomegranate pin is gonna be important but I felt the focus on it was a little too much, like an excuse not to cover more this chapter. Because honestly it felt like 5 minutes of the plot was covered in this chapter.

10. So uh, whats up with Hades weird ass comments... Like "Persephone you look beautiful and if someone says otherwise they can go play on the highway" ???

Because Persephone looking good during a murder trial is clearly the most important thing here.

Also, Perse's response to the reporter who asked her about her friendship with Hades. I mean, on one hand Persephone is right, her "friendship" (or whatever it is they have going on) is nobodies business but her own - but at the same time, its kinda also the underworld denizens right to know in the sense that their future leadership could be affected so they might want to know whats going on if their getting a new co-ruler / Queen that they will be subjects of. They probably will want to know who Persephone is, should she and Hades get married because it's very likely that when (cause lets be real its a 'when' not 'if' they get married) they do get married that Persephone will inherit half the title.

So, eh?

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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