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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Cardboard Box pt 1

An uninspiring title, but apparently it's controversial? All my brain is thinking (I am still le tired) is 'Big fish, little fish, cardboard box' over and over again.

If you don't get that reference, that's probably for the best. the early noughties were weird.

Anyway. I hereby do swear that this time I shall read the text more carefully and all my claims, accusations and harebrained ideas will be based in textual evidence and not mere vibes alone. One cannot thrive on vibes alone!

I'm going to try anyway. I may still dislike characters on principle, though.

He did however take a particular fancy to some of the paragraphs at the beginning of the tale and urged me adapt them for later revisions of my story ‘The Resident Patient’, which I sent to you in January.

OK, so is this going to be an AU version of The Resident Patient? Because I feel like that gives me a head start on the guessing.

I did a side by side of the two and overall it seems pretty much the same, except we're now in August and it's blazing hot. I shudder to think how Watson would have described August in the UK last year. Then we have the discussion about Holmes reading Watson's mind body language. Until we get to the first significant difference:

"Have you observed in the paper a short paragraph referring to the remarkable contents of a packet sent through the post to Miss Cushing, of Cross Street, Croydon?” "No, I saw nothing."

Aha, the titular cardboard box, one wonders?

Watson is really falling behind in his paper reading duties. Holmes is doing all the legwork here. Honestly. You just can't get a good chronicler these days! But he's still making Watson read it aloud.

Holmes does like hearing things read aloud. He'd be all over audiobooks, but he's got Watson for that so it's all good.

I picked up the paper which he had thrown back to me and read the paragraph indicated. It was headed, “A Gruesome Packet.”

Ooooh, I think I might remember a bit of this one. I might remember what's in the box, anyway.

Sorry, that was my contractual obligation.

“Miss Susan Cushing, living at Cross Street, Croydon, has been made the victim of what must be regarded as a peculiarly revolting practical joke unless some more sinister meaning should prove to be attached to the incident."

If it's what I think it is then practical jokes were significantly more aggressive in the Victorian Era. I don't think even TikTok has graduated to this level. We're getting a pretty weird look at the 1800s English sense of humour: beating other children with sticks and... this.

"A cardboard box was inside, which was filled with coarse salt."

Everyone needs some seasoning on their... "two human ears [...] quite freshly severed".

Okay, poor taste, poor taste. I know it's there for preservation. Also weirdly I thought it was going to be fingers. Don't know why I thought that. But yes, this is quite the jape, my friend. I just cut off some human ears and sent them to you.

How is this a practical joke? These are genuine freshly cut ears. Even if they're from a cadaver, that's theft and criminal damage at the very least. Isn't it? And I thought they were particularly strict on stuff like that in the 1800s. We're a little late for the Resurrection Man and Burke and Hare, but they did not like people messing around with corpses.

Okay, research research: 'The Anatomy Act of 1832 made it legal for corpses from workhouses that remained unclaimed after forty-eight hours to be used to satisfy the demands of the anatomists.'

Welp, I guess it was okay to do anything to corpses if they were the corpses of poor people with no friends or family (or at least no friends/family who could afford to claim them).

I mean, on one hand it stopped people from being murdered and science needed bodies to learn how bodies work better (good lord did we need to learn how bodies work better) but on the other hand, this does make me uncomfortable. Workhouse in life, still put to work in death. Also, from a purely scientific viewpoint, your sample is biased. You need some rich people bodies in there, too.

"There is no indication as to the sender, and the matter is the more mysterious as Miss Cushing, who is a maiden lady of fifty, has led a most retired life, and has so few acquaintances or correspondents that it is a rare event for her to receive anything through the post."

So, either she's secretly running an underground crime ring. Or the ears were meant for someone else with the name S. Cushing.

"...she let apartments in her house to three young medical students..."

Oh, yeah, fine. All makes sense now. Medical students are fucking feral. I have met literally one in my life who I would have been comfortable to have as a doctor, and I think he was just really good at hiding it. Guy once got 'kidnapped' by an entire female hockey team and ended up in an entirely different city. Another one I know just kept a dead squirrel in the shared freezer so he could do dissection practice on it.

I'd put the Dead Dove, Do Not Eat gif, but he didn't even label the fucker.

"...their noisy and irregular habits..."

Medical students... yeah.

"In the meantime, the matter is being actively investigated, Mr. Lestrade, one of the very smartest of our detective officers, being in charge of the case.”

Oh hai, Lestrade!

At least the police are putting an actual detective on the case and not just saying 'oh it's a silly prank' and ignoring the transportation of human body parts. Was it illegal to send human remains by the royal mail at that time?

“I think that this case is very much in your line. We have every hope of clearing the matter up, but we find a little difficulty in getting anything to work upon."

'We're totally going to do this, we just don't have... any idea how. But we totally could!'

"The box is a half-pound box of honeydew tobacco and does not help us in any way."

Did somebody say... TOBACCO?

A specialist subject has entered the chat.

If Holmes doesn't use his extensive and very detailed knowledge of tobacco to help solve this case, I will be v. disappoint.

Lestrade, as wiry, as dapper, and as ferret-like as ever...

Watson is contractually obliged to remind you that Lestrade looks like a ferret every time he appears. His publisher insists on it.

I'm informed that an antimacassar is an arm cover for an armchair or sofa. My Nana used to have them. They had tassels and I'd get told off for plaiting the threads in the tassels together. Good times.

“Why in my presence, sir?” “In case he wished to ask any questions.” “What is the use of asking me questions when I tell you I know nothing whatever about it?”

Miss Cushing has very strong Done With This energy and I am here for it. Those are not her ears. She has perfectly good ones thank you very much, and she does not need any more. Why are you still bothering her?

“Quite so, madam,” said Holmes in his soothing way. “I have no doubt that you have been annoyed more than enough already over this business.”

Holmes once again showing that he does have emotional intelligence no matter what people might think.

“The importance lies in the fact that the knot is left intact, and that this knot is of a peculiar character.”

Oh, not the tobacco knowledge, but the knot knowledge. I see 'peculiar' and 'knot' in the same sentence and I immediately think 'sailing'.

Address printed in rather straggling characters: ‘Miss S. Cushing, Cross Street, Croydon.’ Done with a broad-pointed pen, probably a J, and with very inferior ink. The word ‘Croydon’ has been originally spelled with an ‘i’, which has been changed to ‘y’.

Our sender has poor handwriting and poor spelling, then. The 'wrong person' theory is growing stronger. The likelihood that Miss Cushing is a criminal mastermind diminshes. Shame.

He took out the two ears as he spoke, and laying a board across his knee he examined them minutely.

Is he wearing gloves? Please tell me he's wearing gloves.

“Bodies in the dissecting-rooms are injected with preservative fluid. These ears bear no signs of this. They are fresh, too. They have been cut off with a blunt instrument, which would hardly happen if a student had done it."

This feels like something the police should already have noticed. If the questions are 'Where did these ears come from? Has a crime been committed?' you would think someone would have considered whether they were from a preserved corpse or someone fresh. I know that policing has changed a lot since then and forensic medicine wasn't really a thing, but clearly they suspected foul play was a possibility, because Lestrade called for Holmes.

"We know that this woman has led a most quiet and respectable life at Penge and here for the last twenty years. She has hardly been away from her home for a day during that time."

Oh, Lestrade. The things you can do without leaving your home. She might have anyone buried under the floorboards. She might have been sending blackmail letters to her neighbours. She might have been doing any number of things. I still think the wrong person got the parcel, but saying that she's just too respectable for this is very optimistic of you.

I do agree that if she knew what the ears were about, she probably wouldn't have told anyone about them. Unless she's in such a secure position that she doesn't think anyone would ever trace anything back to her. In most situations, it wouldn't be the best move.

"One of these ears is a woman's, small, finely formed, and pierced for an earring."

Did no men wear earrings in Victorian times? Admittedly, probably not 'respectable' men, but the knot's already pointing me at sailor (as is the tarring on the string, tbh) and it used to be a thing that tattoos were mostly a sailor thing over here, and piercing is a similar kind of body art. So a woman or a sailor with small ears.

omg. pirates.

"The other is a man's, sun-burned, discoloured, and also pierced for an earring."

Oh, okay, so the earring wasn't the thing. Doesn't prevent the first ear from belonging to a small pirate, though. Sunburned also makes me think sailors. They have to be outside a lot with no shade. Sunburn on your ears is the worst. They have my sincere sympathy.

Also, y'know, cause they got their ear cut off - with a blunt blade, which... eesh.

"These two people are presumably dead, or we should have heard their story before now."

I mean, they could have been kidnapped and this could be proof of life. These days if you get an unsolicited body part in the real life mail the mind does go to kidnapping. Maybe that originates here - but they have no way of knowing whether the ear was detached ante or post mortem at this point, do they? So it's more proof of having, rather than proof of life. And I don't think I'd recognise my friends or family by their ears, so it's not even really that. If the earrings had been attached then I might recognise them.

Yeah... s'weird. But it doesn't necessarily mean they're dead. Although... Victorian hygiene and understanding of germ theory.

...

Yeah, they've got sepsis. They're dead.

Question spiral! Holmes just asking himself question after question is very relatable. And bringing up all relevant points about how if Miss Cushing knows what's going on, taking the ears to the police but telling them nothing is the weirdest possible response.

I'm assuming that the subject of this email is wrong, because if this is part 1 of 1, there is no conclusion to this story and so without further evidence, I am forced to believe that one large pirate and one small pirate, genders unknown, are currently dead/dying of sepsis and the true recipient of these ears, M. S Cushing (any or all letters interchangeable) has heard nothing of their fate. Although, given it was in the newspaper, they probably have heard about it by now. So maybe they don't need the ears.

No idea why the ears were sent though. Proof of a hit? Proof of life? Just a creepy serial killer who likes to send the ears of their past victim to their next victim? Probably not that one, seems a bit Criminal Minds for a Sherlock Holmes story, but you never know.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Cardboard Box #Modern Sherlock this is a live unboxing video gone wrong #long post

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hansolostrickedoutweedvan · 4 months

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Doctor Who: An Unearthly Child

My latest hyperfixation has been Doctor Who and I am now watching the entire series from start to finish. To avoid driving the people I live with up the wall with endless doctor Who trivia and observations, I've decided to break them down into serials and share my thoughts here. I expect to carry this series through until I've covered all of classic who including the Paul McGann tv movie, or more likely, the hyperfixation burns out and I get bored- let's see if i make it through to Pertwee.

So let's get stuck in with An Unearthly Child

The first episode of Doctor Who comes in strong,with a pair of likeable teachers concerned for the well-being of one of their students, an incredibly bright girl who simultaneously lacked very basic knowledge of the present day, such as expecting the UK to have a decimalised currency (which wouldn't happen for another decade/2 more Doctors in reality. They find their way to a junkyard with a very incongruous police box, and a cantankerous old man. Over his objections they force their way in to find it to be bigger on the inside. After several minutes of the Doctor getting annoyed that Ian and Barbara can't follow his perfectly simple refusals to answer basic questions, he just decides he'll have to kidnap them to keep the secret, and launches the TARDIS of, knocking them out in the process

The next 3 episodes are a fun caveman adventure with various kidnappings, the Doctor attempting to murder a caveman with a rock just to save a bit of time, Ian and Barbara being one step away from beating the Doctor to a bloody pulp (which he deserves) and generally interfering in time with no thought to the consequences- let's give early man fire to stop a tribe being destroyed by winter. Web of time what? Butterfly effect who?

Overall, An Unearthly Child is a pretty good opening to a show and I can really see why it caught on in the public's imagination. It is very weird watching it as a modern viewer, as the Doctor is a childish, spiteful man, who just straight up kidnaps two people out of…malice? Vindictive wounded pride? There's definitely a few lines that are uncomfortable to a modern audience, including a line about native Americans that I won't repeat here.

Notable firsts: almost too many to list, since it's the first 4 episodes ever, but in particular the Doctor, the TARDIS and it's distinctive hexagonal console, sound effects and being bigger on the inside.

Rating: Colin Baker out of David Tennant

#dr who #william hartnell #classic who #an unearthly child #ian chesterton #barbara wright #susan foreman #first doctor

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borgqueens · 5 months

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On this week’s edition of Metafilter Shaming:

I have I think (unknowingly) started to explore or rebel against some norms. I wear a lot of pink and purple

A man wearing pink and purple?? So rebellious!

I would describe myself as presenting as a husband but feeling like a wife. In thinking about traditional gender roles in a relationship, I am the one who cooks, decorates our home, sews, makes health appts, organizes kids stuff and maintains our social calendar

Cooking and sewing and looking after kids is for wives, not husbands: who said it, progressive left-wing echo chamber or religious right-wing conservative?

I fantasize often about what it would be like if I was a lesbian married to my wife

Fetishist alert fetishist alert

I want the book clubs and emotional support, not fantasy sports and beer

So…find other men to do that stuff with? It’s like he thinks he’s the first man in history who isn’t 100% GI Joe on that ridiculous Mermaids UK gender diagram

a handful or fewer times I have found myself attracted enough to a man to consider acting on it

This is why the T needs to be forcibly ejected from the LGB. Feel attracted to the same sex? Duh, that means you have a special gender, that’s how it works :) :)

I feel like even getting close to individual women who I vibe with is rife with problems as it's just not that normal to do (or it seems as such) unless the guy is emotionally or physically trying to cheat.

This is obviously an indication of having a special gender and definitely not an indication that there’s anything wrong with patriarchal society :) :)

if we both were women, we would both get invited to the book club that she did and my presence there would not completely change the dynamics […] part of the book club is a space where women can express their feelings about their relationships/kids/etc. and they'd not be as comfortable if there was a man there.

Yeahhhh if he puts on a dress and calls himself “she” the women will still be uncomfortable, it’s just they’d be too afraid to say anything and get canceled

From the replies:

It sounds to me like you have a male gender identity and a feminine gender expression

Stereotypes. This person means feminine gender stereotypes.

in some queer communities there is an odd pressure on non-gender-conforming people to come out as trans

I wonder why that could be…it’s certainly nothing to do with being an inherently conservative ideology that ultimately reinforces patriarchy, right?

I'm afab and usually just identify as a woman, but it's because I hang out in leftist, coastal cities where there's tons of queer folks and "woman" feels expansive enough to encompass my identity and life experiences. But put me in a smaller town with cishet normie values and then I definitely feel I exist outside of that binary, would feel weird and out of place in groups of all women, and therefore I am (at least contextually) non-binary

This person is SO close to getting it

I found a term that really suites me that I think you should look into: demigirl […] I can’t “perform” being a woman “correctly” - I experience gender dysphoria when forced to do highly feminine things but it’s just because I can’t do “woman” in the way that society wants me to. But I don’t have to. I can perform being a woman however I want […] Because gender is fake.

Gender is fake, she says, then goes ahead and gives herself a fake gender. Because again, not fitting society’s expectations of women is a you problem and definitely not a society problem!

How do these people not hear themselves and how horrendously regressive they are. How do a bunch of 40something “progressives” eat up the gender crap without stopping for one second to think critically about it. Oh my god.

Bonus Metafilter Shaming!

Hysterical wall of text from someone feeling extremely stressed about “welcoming a TERF into my life”:

#metafilter #gender #identity #regressive left #trans husbands #LGB–T #no terfs allowed

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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So everyone is sharing a lot, so I came back, it's me, the 34 fic writer scared of censure culture. Well, I'm also a trans male, but I don't think my experience reading fanfics and being a slash shipper had anything to do with my identity. I was introduced very young into japanese Yaoi, then followed into Slash when it still was called that, and more recently into danmei and BL. Maybe I'm a bit old, because to me, it's all the same thing but like from different countries. Okay so, recently there's trans people and issues at the front of everything, and truly, sometimes it makes me cringe when I go into a fandom and I see all those new fics about characters being trans in BL/yaoi/danmei when they originally where Cis males characters or AMAB.

It makes me uncomfortable because I think those aren't meant to be representation of LGTB or trans experiences irl. I'm not saying they should stop writing about it, or that this is wrong, I know it isn't, because I understand the need to express their feelings and make their own representation by taking the characters and turning them into trans.

But those yaoi ships are in a weird limbo where they are supposed to be two males, but one of them is designed for women to project themselves in the narrative. It's absolutely heteronormative. It was a genere written by women to women, and so, they turned romance from male/woman, into two males with one behaving like a woman (because two d!cks are better than one Right?). I don't think it began like a representation of true gay experience, and sometimes it still isn't.

Back to my issue with this, isn't this like going into a weird circle?,

A male cis character that behaves like a cartoonish woman, gets turned in a AFAB, but then turns into a trans man, a now is a trans male that behaves like a woman in a really bad representation of a gay couple?!.

This is like so confusing to me, with the exception of Slash, that more often than not, the characters aren't gay in canon but only just queer baiting. But the rest, when they are canon couples and also from this genere, why would they choose this as representation?

Yes, I understand that there's NB people, and Queer people, but I'm kind of just talking about the relationship between trans males and BL here.

Maybe I'm indeed too old to understand now. But sometimes I only want to read about the really unrealistic gay ship being heteronormative and doing the nasty with two d!cks, but instead I have to faceplant into this worm hole of trans politics.

And now I feel super bad for confessing this because of bad experiences with lgtbq young crusaders.

I think the uke is a little more complex than just 'female self insert with a dick', but yeah. It's uncomfortable when the little, girly one is made into a trans man. What are we saying about gender there?

One of the most macho jackasses I ever knew was a trans man. Granted, this was not a great personal choice on his part, but still: overcompensating asshole is totally a type of trans dude.

Ultimately, this is people's fantasy material and it's inherently going to be problematic and personal, but I do cringe over this stuff too.

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lucysometimeswrites · 3 years

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Kiss the Girl

hello again! thanks for the love on Awards Season :) this one is based on the beginning of lockdown where the boys were living together. had the idea and the title will make sense in part 2 (if you want it). enjoy!

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Never in a million years would I have thought I’d live to see a pandemic, much less quarantine with four boys, one of them who just happens to be my boyfriend. Tom and I had been dating for about six months when the global pandemic was declared, and in the heat of the moment, he suggested I come live with him and his brother and mates, as he called them. I immediately refused, of course, because I didn’t wanna impose in any way or make things awkward for them, but he insisted that everything would be okay and that he would not be able to stand the fact that I was out there living alone while this big thing was happening. I don’t know how, but he was very convincing so here I am. In the UK. In London. Living with my boyfriend and three other boys. Still asking myself how or why.

Don’t get me wrong! It hasn’t been horrible by any means. Sure, it took a bit of getting used to and some uncomfortable silences to get over with his housemates, but other than that it has been quite a beautiful experience. I’ve been able to bond with Tuwaine, Harrison and Harry in different ways, and Tom and I have never been happier.

Until yesterday.

It’s no surprise lockdown drives all of us a little bit insane sometimes, what with trying to keep our jobs and not being able to go anywhere but the same amount of square feet; it’s hard! It’s also very hard to keep our cool with the people we literally see every day and prevent ourself from projecting our stress onto them, which exactly what happened yesterday with that dear boyfriend of mine.

Tom had been very busy with some scripts he’d been learning and working on his project with Harry and simultaneously trying to keep his fans happy. Many terrible things had been going on that just piled up on him and his stress level went from 0 to 100 real quick. He was also trying to keep me happy. While he was here living with people he’s known his whole life and his family a 20 minute drive away, he was aware that I am his relatively new girlfriend, an outsider, who was miles away from her family and was living with boys and struggling with online work. I didn’t realize this right away, though. How his shoulders sagged a bit each morning, or how his smile didn’t reach his eyes. His laugh was less present around the house, and he started disappearing into his office more and more until the only times I saw him were sometimes during breakfast and when going to bed. I didn’t notice, and neither did the boys, which I felt really guilty about.

It clicked at the worst time. I kept wondering why I felt things were weird between him and I, my mind going to the worst of places, of course. I started thinking if he wanted me there at all, how I told him it was not a good idea, or that maybe he now realized that he doesn’t really like me and wanted to break up. Ridiculous, he would say, but he wasn’t there to actually say it or prove me wrong. So, I decided to be upfront and ask him. Communication and all that I said in my head, and headed to his office.

Yesterday . . .

“Tom?” I softly knocked on the door. I heard a faint��“Come in”, so I opened the door and saw him sitting at the desk. Brows furrowed, pursed lips, his back hunched a little as he was looking at something closely in his laptop. His eyes never moving from the screen.

“Hey-”

“What do you need?” he said. Wow, blunt.

“Uh, I wasss wondering if we could talk?” I answered, absently playing with my fingers out of nervousness. Why am I nervous? It’s Tom.

“Does it have to be now?”

“I was sort of hoping that, yeah” his eyes finally leaving the screen and looking at me, still standing by the door.

“Okay, but I have to get back to work so if you could make it quick, that would be great” How do I make my insecurity “quick”?!

I struggled to find the words before asking him, “Are things okay between us?” my voice becoming small and my eyes finding my feet very interesting while I waited for a response. Which never came.

I looked up to find him entranced by his laptop once again. It looked as if he hadn’t heard my question, and that upset me.

“Tom” I called his attention sternly, with a bit of a glare.

“What” he said absently.

“I’m trying to talk about something serious here”

He sighed, clearly annoyed, rubbing his face and turning to me once more, “What is it?”

Trying to be calm, but my voice becoming a little harsher, “I was asking you if things are okay between us”, which didn’t come out as much of a question anymore.

“Of course they are, why do you ask” Wow, he can’t even pretend to be interested?

“Because I feel like I haven’t seen you and that you’re acting weird. I mean you spend most of the day cooped up in here and you don’t hang out with any of us anymore”, I explained.

“Because I have important work to do, Y/N” his face still held seriousness, like his mind was plagued with problems.

“Well can’t you do it later? I don’t know, take a break and have a snack with us?” I suggested, with hope that we’d get to have a laugh and get over the tension.

“No, I can’t” he answered shortly. I stood up and made my way behind his chair, my hands going to rub his shoulders trying to convince him, “Oh come onnnn, maybe you’ll work even better after! We haven’t seen you in ages and I miss you” I pouted, even though he couldn’t see me.

Now, as if a bomb had exploded out of nowhere, he abruptly stood up and threw my hands off his body, “I said no Y/N! I told you I’m working on important stuff and that I can’t take ‘a little break’” he yelled, mocking me in the last part, “I’m trying my best to keep my job and work with Harry while keeping all of you safe and providing for you, so no, I don’t have time for a break and if you could just go away it would make me the happiest man a live right now” he finished strongly. He huffed and puffed just like the big bad wolf, pointing to the door while I stood there dumbfounded

Ouch.

I gaped at him with a mix of shock, anger and sadness. Feeling my emotions coming through, I thought like hell he’s gonna see me cry, so I just took a few steps back while making my way to the door and leaving the room quickly, not looking back. As I made my way to our room, I crossed the living room where Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine all quietly looked at me, with pity in their eyes and clearly having heard the argument. I stopped in the middle, looking at each of them but promptly continuing my way to the bedroom, where I closed the door and leaned against it for support. With a few tears slipping down my eyes, I grabbed a towel and locked myself in the bathroom. After turning the shower on, I took off my clothes and got in, letting the warm water fall on me in a comforting matter while I let myself cry freely, thinking once more why am I spending lockdown here with them...with him?

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aaaaa part 2? yes? no?

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagines #tom holland blurbs #tom holland fluff

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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Web!Jon Roleplays Canon!Jon: With Mixed Results?

I wrote this a while ago and now that Sucker’s Bet is finally finished I can post it! Yay! This takes place an indeterminate amount of time after the end of Sucker’s Bet. The exact opposite thing happened with this story that usually happens: I had a very depressing idea and then I was REALLY METICULOUS to make sure it was fluffy. What’s fluffier than healthy discussions about boundaries, needs, and consent?

CW for some unnegotiated roleplay stuff? The same topics that were hit in Sucker’s Bet are hit here. Suggestion of future sexual activity/language but no follow-up.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity. Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet.

Martin…

They probably wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell.

Or maybe they would have. Jon was silently hoping that Tim and Sasha would become more comfortable with him. He had a lot of tricks and methods to make them more comfortable with him, but he had decided very firmly to relax. If Tim and Sasha didn’t like him...well, he had already done possibly the douchiest thing possible to them, and they hung out with him anyway, so their expectations were probably on the floor.

Granted, that was mostly in Martin contexts. He rarely hung out with them alone. They were probably only putting up with him because he was Jon’s boyfriend. Jon knew how it was, and frequently exploited it: you think you’re part of his group until you realize he’s terrible and break up with him, and then suddenly you have no friends, so you never get around to breaking up with him and you’re never happy and you never find someone you’re happy with.

Martin assured him frequently that they liked him. He suggested that Jon ask them, which he may have gotten from a CBT workbook that he surreptitiously read, but Jon was well aware how that put people in an awkward position. If they didn’t like you, what would they do - tell you?

Well. Tim would. Yeah, Tim would. This was why Tim was trustworthy and a good person. Jon loved people who were incapable of lying, it was like watching zoo animals through binoculars.

They wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell. But they were drunk as hell, and there was nothing better than pub tricks.

“What I don’t understand,” Tim said, in that kind of dancing lilting way that only the half-drunk were capable of, “is how you convinced everyone that you knew how to do that job when you, like, don’t read anything more complicated than fashion magazines.”

“I knew he couldn’t do the job,” Sasha said furiously, draining her gin and tonic. “I knew it, but did anybody listen?”

“We all knew, honey.”

Jon shrugged, adjusting his long linen shirt that hugged his torso flatteringly. Honestly, if Jon had been born a woman he would have been too powerful. “That one involved a little bit of spider powers,” he admitted. “But not much. I didn’t do much other than record statements. Telling Sasha that we ‘appreciate her initiative’, but, like, grudgingly, meant that she actually did most of the work.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped in indignation. “I did most of the - shit, I did! I did all of the archiving stuff, didn’t I?”

“I just looked really hurried and spent a lot of time in my office,” Jon said apologetically. “If you always sound stressed then people just assume that you’re doing things. I was really chatting up people on Tinder most of the time.”

“I was not paid enough,” Sasha grumbled, leaning back in her seat.

“You keep making yourself out to be lazy,” Martin said mildly. He wasn’t drinking, designated as the sober one of the group tonight. “But you were using that downtime to do other work for your other job.”

Jon himself had a drink or two and he was pleasantly light headed - not drunk, but tipsy enough to feel confident and to shut up all of the annoying anxious voices in his head. It was refreshing, and felt very good. That being said, when Jon was fourteen and Gerry sixteen Agnes sat them with a twenty slide powerpoint presentation on how drinking culture in the UK facilitated alcoholism without recognition of it, so these are things you should never do while drinking and this is how to prevent binge drinking and unhealthy drinking habits. Jon didn’t always listen - alcohol was God’s solution for anxiety - but he tried. Agnes also tried that with Annabelle, but she just hissed at her and downed an entire energy drink at once while staring her in the eyes. They figured Annabelle wasn’t at risk.

“I still don’t believe you,” Tim said imperiously, slamming his pint on the table and making his beer slosh. “If you did the whole schtick now, it would come off so fake.”

“Definitely. I never fall for the same thing twice,” Sasha bragged. “It would obviously still be Jon - what, Hawthorne? Jon Hawthorne. Or was it Hastings…”

“Hawthorne today,” Jon said politely. But he just shrugged, leaning back in his own seat and sipping delicately at his hard cider. “I can guarantee that, if I pulled out that persona again, nobody at this table would be able to see through it.” At Martin’s surly look, Jon appended, “Maybe Martin would.” Everybody shot him slightly incredulous looks, and he sighed. “I promise I’m good at my job! I’m only...transparent when I’m socializing outside of a persona. You all caught me at a weird time in my life.” He shuddered. “Vacations. Never again.”

“The problem with all of that was vacations,” Martin said flatly.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.

Martin…

In Martin, Jon saw the same thing that he had always seen. Even stronger, today, than ever. For a month, back then, it had been little more than intrusive thoughts and some light, bored mental meandering. For two, three, months, it had grown deeper and deeper, so thoroughly that it was a surprise. Jon had done a very good job with him. Granted, he had just meant to flirt to keep him complacent, not to end up...doing all of that, and going through all of this, and ending up here. That had never quite been in the plan.

Martin thought that this roleplay would he really fucking hot. Which, ultimately, swayed Jon: he liked it when Martin thought he was hot. It wasn’t hard, but somehow it meant much more to him than it did from anybody else. It was very strange: that something so easily attained was treasured so highly. Deeply nonsensical.

“I’m not doing it,” Jon said firmly, and both Tim and Sasha groaned. “It’s not a party trick, guys. Martin, can you scooch? I need the loo.”

Jon, of course, took a slightly meandering approach to the loo. He ditched his pea coat and scarf at the table hidden underneath the tablecloth just out of sight. He fetched a pair of abandoned glasses left on a pub (their owner was annoying a woman), grabbed an abandoned blazer off the back of a chair (its owner was almost passed out drunk, Jon could give it back before the end of the night). He slipped into the bathroom and added his new accessories, taking care to tuck his shirt in. He slipped a hairband from his wrist and quickly did his hair up in a messy bun - he really did need a lot of gel and some combs to get it in his bun normally, but he’d do the best with what he had. Jon glanced in the mirror, looking himself over and fixing his bun as best as he could. He took a deep breath, then two.

There was always that moment: when Jon slid into it. It felt like skidding on ice, thrust someplace else. Or like an exhale, centering himself as his molecules rearranged. It was a thrilling feeling, often accompanied by a heady thrill or adrenaline.

No matter how many times he did this, it was still fun. Jon loved it. He really, really loved winning. And Jon always won.

When Jon walked back to the table, his posture was uncomfortably stiff yet visibly hunched over. Look proud and professional, but deeply feel uncomfortable with the noise and sound and clamor of the pub. Anxious and socially awkward, but trying to hide it - that was familiar.

Jon halted at the table, where Tim was already telling Martin about a snowboarding accident. They stopped short when they saw him, one hand worrying at his blazer as he scowled at them. “Martin, will you move over? I can’t get to my seat.”

“Uh,” Martin said intelligently.

“Any day now,” Jon said frostily.

Martin quickly got up and let Jon slide in. Jon, who had been sitting pressed up against Martin’s side, took care to slide much further away so he was more hovering at the edges of the group - not enough that it was awkward, but definitely a bit to the right of Sasha directly ahead of him. He avoided eye contact with everybody, picking up his drink and sniffing it suspiciously. The accent was the easiest part of it, the only wrinkle carefully making it almost perceivably fake.

“Holy shit,” Tim said loudly, voice rising in incredulity, “you actually did it?”

“Did what?” Jon asked. He carefully took a sip of the drink, before grimacing in distaste. “Absolutely vile…”

“You did the thing,” Sasha said, so excited she was almost bouncing up and down. “You’re doing the thing, holy shit! That was such a Jon face!”

“Er. If you say so.” Jon busied himself with the drink again, obviously pantomiming sipping as he fiddled with the arm of the blazer. Under his breath, yet very audibly, he muttered, “What a waste of time…”

“Man, this is like, what, LARPing?” Tim batted at Sasha’s arm, looking excited. “I’ll play along. Remember we used to do this together?”

They had. Jon had to pretend that he was unbearably awkward about the whole thing, yet secretly excited to be invited. In reality, pubs were such a cornerstone of Jon’s existence he found them dull as bricks, but it had been fun to channel someone terrified of too many people in a room.

Sasha’s chin was propped on her hand, giggling. “What’s your organization system for the files, huh, Jon? What’s your organization system? How are you sorting the documents?”

“Tim told me that you don’t talk about work at pubs,” Jon said defensively. “He said you talk about - what was it -” He looked at Tim planatively, obviously lost. “Hobbies? You talk about hobbies?”

“How do you organize the files, Jonathan?”

“Yes, Boss, hobbies,” Tim said faux-sympathetically. He put a hand on his heart, pulling a face. “You gotta have hobbies, right? Shopping, haircare, stealing money, getting fake married?”

“That’s all for his job,” Martin muttered.

“I have hobbies,” Jon said defensively. He adopted an expression of panicked thought, groping for something. “I like...television.”

“What television, Jonathan,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pretended to sweat. “Television shows?”

“Unrealistic!” Tim slapped the table. “Everyone at least knows a telly show, no matter how much of a nerd they are. Fakey Jon Sims.”

“I do!” Jon protested. “I - well, not recently, but - documentaries count. I watch documentaries. I was watching this fascinating one about the Jonestown Massacre, and the intriguing series of events the lead into the mass death -”

Then he was off, shifting into his confidence when infodumping. Confidence because he was so wrapped up in the joy of sharing information he forgot that it kind of included dominating the conversation, and he watched with satisfaction as everybody’s eyes started glazing over. Everybody except Martin, who was scrolling through his phone looking disinterested.

Looking. His cheeks were a little flushed. Jon patted himself on the back.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, cutting himself off, “am I boring you, Martin?”

But Martin didn’t even look up. “I’m not participating in this.”

“Aw, come on,” Tim wheedled. “Look, he’s even doing the Mah-tin thing. You always started fanning yourself whenever he did that.”

Sasha was, very drunkenly, taking notes. “It’s uncanny. Like a dead person brought back to life and annoying you.”

“Are we really making this entire outing about Martin?” Jon asked, pretending irritation. Play into it. Bloke wouldn’t admit it, but there was a reason he had liked Jon back then. It wasn’t for his sparkling personality, beyond the little flashes of something more tender underneath. Have your cake and eat it too. “You said that this would be fun, Tim.”

Tim just laughed. “Aw, Martin’s not fun?”

“I never said that,” Jon said stiffly. He glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye, clearly working himself up to say something. When he spoke, the words were almost forced out. “What..are you playing?”

“Sincerely buzz off,” Martin said flatly.

Jon couldn’t help it - his cheeks genuinely burned. He looked away, careful to keep an expression on his face as if he was examining the molding because Martin had said something socially awkward, but hot shame flared in his chest.

He made it seem as if he downed his drink. “Excuse me, I’m...getting us more drinks.”

Jon made a show of slightly stumbling as he made his way to the bar. Martin had given him the permission to extort drinks out of people through flirting and judicious eye-batting - guy was very strictly monogamous but also practical - and in barely a few minutes he had enough collected for their table. He carefully walked them all back, settling them on the table, and waited for both Tim and Sasha to grab their drinks and start enthusiastically downing them.

He wanted to drop it, ask Martin if he made him uncomfortable, reassure him. But that would ruin the momentum of this, the steam train picking up speed, and it was impossible for Jon to miss the dual things that Martin was feeling.

Super turned on. Also very uncomfortable. Jon decided that he was uncomfortable because he found it attractive, and he was dealing with some guilt over that.

It would be fun to reassure him, but Jon had the sense that he wouldn’t like him to do it in public.

Soon afterwards, with a little more friendly yet understated performance from Jon and uproarious laughter from Tim and Sasha, Sasha’s head had begun dropping onto the table more frequently than not and Tim decided that it was time to take her home. More accurately, Jon knew, to Tim’s place, as it was closer. He’d drop her on the couch, he’d slide into his own bed, and he’d think about a different situation. She’d wake up in the morning, eyes squinting against the harsh sun, and hope for a moment - but no, the couch again. Neither were willing to bridge the gap.

Jon and Martin stumbled out too. Jon had been intending on spending the night at Martin’s place - Jon loved cuddling, it was his favorite thing - and Jon made a show of acting slightly drunker than he was as Martin thoughtfully kept a hand on his back. He stumbled out the door, gripping Martin’s coat and giggling. He had strategically returned the blazer back to the guy, and Martin had his other clothing draped over his arm.

“And, in my opinion,” Jon stated decisively as he swayed, “as part of our anti-colonialist efforts we should give Ireland back to the Irish -”

“You can drop it,” Martin said, gently guiding him towards the tube station. They still had an hour before the last trains ran. “Seriously.”

Jon giggled, before slightly bending down to whisper in Jon’s ear. He kept the accent, the inflections, everything. “But you really find it hot.”

Martin sputtered as Jon laughed uproariously - not his laugh, the Archivist’s laugh - and they teetered towards home.

On the tube Jon kept a hand on Martin’s thigh, and Martin kept glancing and glancing towards him, and Jon would shoot him a prissy look as his hand wandered up his thigh, and Martin would get redder and redder.

When Martin unlocked his flat door it took several times, with his hand shaking slightly, and Jon hid a smirk behind a hand. On some level, he was always roleplaying when he did these kinds of things, but with Martin it was usually so authentic that this was positively novel. Jon’s mind was already furiously churning as he set up the scene - yes, that would be exactly right, this would be fun -

Jon stumbled inside after Martin, who was already taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg. He put Jon’s coat up too, glancing at Jon out of the corner of his eye.

The Archivist wouldn’t really notice something like that, so he didn’t either. “Lord, Martin, your flat’s as messy as your desk.”

Martin still looked a little pained, even as his cheeks were quite red. “Yeah, ha ha. My desk wasn’t that bad, you were just being picky.”

“Yes, I suppose I must apologize for that.” Jon drew himself up to his full height, stepping close to Martin - closer than the Archivist ever had. “Martin, I’m afraid - well, I have a confession.”

“Oh, boy,” Martin said.

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Jon said prissily. But he leaned in, keeping his expression just on the faintest edge of innocently scared. “I never wanted to admit this. It was just so inappropriate, what with me being your boss and all. I always - well, I always knew how you felt about me. It was...charming.”

Obviously involuntarily, Martin squeaked a bit. Adorable.

Jon reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, leaning in. “Truth be told, I was looking at you too. I was just embarrassed. I didn’t like admitting it. But I couldn’t help thinking about it.” That was, obviously, how Martin’s fantasies had always worked. Not realistic, but realism wasn’t the point of your absent daydreams during a boring workday. “But I’m tired of hiding it. I really want you, Martin. I always have. I want you to bend me over my desk and -”

“Shut it off, Jon!”

Jon shut it off. They had agreed on the phrase ages ago, the very solid cue to drop all of Jon’s shit. Jon regularly kept up the shit just because he found it entertaining, and oftentimes comforting, but Martin sometimes found it unbelievably obtrusive when he was trying to have a serious conversation. It was difficult - Jon got panicked during serious conversations, so he usually defensively threw his shit back up again, and it was a self-perpetuating cycle that had frustrated and upset the both of them until they had sat down and talked about it. If Jon couldn’t keep up the conversation without lying, then they both walked away and came back to it later. It was work. But it was good work, the kind that allowed for the good stuff to flourish. Uncomfortable, messy, and real - but maybe that was what Jon liked about it.

“Sorry,” Jon said. He straightened, letting every expression drop away until he was back at his favored neutral. He knew that Martin found it unsettlingly blank, but he rarely complained. “Did I go too far with the desk thing?”

Martin just stood there, carefully controlling his breathing. Jon waited, letting Martin pick through his thoughts and try to shape them. It was probably more difficult than usual, considering how well Jon had been striking the right notes, so he gave him some time.

Finally, Martin said, “I get having fun with Sasha and Tim. I get us doing roleplay, privately, together. I get you doing a role for your job. But the Archivist gig has a lot of baggage with it, for all of us. Do you understand why I feel weird about you pulling that into bedroom stuff?”

“We watch TV in your bedroom,” Jon pointed out. At Martin’s flat, unamused look, Jon had to fight the urge to shuffle his feet. “I sincerely don’t understand your reaction. I’ve seen your search history -”

“Jon!”

“Research for before we got together, don’t think anything of it,” Jon said quickly. “But doesn’t that make it better? It’s not often somebody gets everything they want from somebody unattainable. Or, you know, not real, but…”

“Jon, for a mind reader you can be terrible at picking up cues sometimes,” Martin said, exasperated. “I know your reasons for doing stuff like this -”

“I’m fantastic at picking up cues,” Jon corrected, oddly huffy. “Because I always know what people want. Their desires, even if they don’t like admitting it to themselves. Do you have any idea how many people on this Earth are bisexual but won’t admit it?”

But, somehow, that just made Martin’s eyes widen a little, as if a realization had cracked. “It cannot be comfortable knowing how many people are attracted to you when you’re sex-repulsed.”

“It’s fine,” Jon lied. “I like it.”

“Jon.”

“Whatever. I got used to it.” Jon shrugged. “I like it when you like me. You’re my boyfriend. I want to make you happy because I like seeing you happy. That’s my ulterior motive.”

Martin sighed again, but thankfully he didn’t look as stressed anymore. Win. He broke away from Jon, instead dropping heavily onto the couch, and Jon hesitantly sat down next to him. His costume abruptly felt stifling, and when he saw Martin’s eyes linger on the bun he undid it and untucked his shirt. God, his hair was a wreck.

“The Archivist has baggage for me,” Martin said quietly. “I know how I feel, and I try not to be embarrassed over stuff that most people go through and feel. Had enough of that internalized homophobia for a lifetime. I...can’t avoid you knowing how I feel, or what I’m thinking. I know you can try not to look, but you can’t completely control it either. I understand all of this. But you knowing what I want isn’t the same as me asking for it. Do you understand that difference?”

Jon shrugged uncomfortably.

“Jon. Do you get that I felt uncomfortable because what you did was unnegotiated and you didn’t ask my permission?”

The feeling of embarrassment and guilt spiked higher, and Jon looked away and stared fixedly at some admittedly quite pretty art on the wall. “You’re making it sound bad.”

“I should have shut that down earlier. That’s my bad. You should have stopped to ask. Your bad. We’re both at fault, so we shouldn’t be mad at each other. Are we all good on that?”

Jon stayed silent for a little bit, staring at the wall, trying his best to assemble his own thoughts in his brain. He wasn’t smart. He had problems assembling the words for the complex and large and overwhelming feelings he felt so often. How was Martin so good at breaking this down and putting it into words, when Jon could barely even express how he felt?

Well, Martin probably had more practice…

“You’re so frustrating,” Jon whispered. “You don’t like asking for what you want. You do make me guess. You’re embarrassed to say any of it - the things you want me to do, or the things you like. You do want me to read your mind, because everybody wants a mind reader in their relationship. Especially when it comes to sexual things. But what I can’t read is the...choices you make. Just what you want. And you always make a choice that’s contrary to what you want, and I can never guess. So I do what you want, which is always the exact opposite of what you want me to actually do, and…”

After a second of silence, Martin said, “I need to work on that. I have to be more vocal too. But, Jon, nowhere in that did you mention what you want.”

Jon turned back to look at him, and saw that Martin’s expression was creased. With a mix of - sadness, frustration, conviction, dedication. Imagine being that dedicated, about anything. “Nothing about me minded this time,” Jon said, flabbergasted. “I liked it. I like playing, I like making you feel good, I like winning.” Martin opened his mouth, and Jon quickly said, “Don’t pretend that socialization isn’t a game that everyone is always trying to win, you liar.”

Martin shut his mouth. He could not deny it. Finally, he said, “I hate how you have to say this time.”

He couldn’t help it - he cringed, very hard. Terrible memory. Terrible, terrible, terrible - “I don’t want you to touch me the rest of tonight,” he said, in one rushed breath. Georgie told him to say it. Georgie, Melanie, and Martin. He was supposed to say this.

“Of course, no problem,” Martin said, quickly yet calmly. “Was there anything in that I shouldn’t bring up again?”

“That never happened,” Jon said, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “Stop bringing it up, it’s over, I’m fine - I’m going to bed!”

Hilariously, it was Martin’s flat, but Jon needed to dramatically retreat, so he ended up claiming Martin’s bed for his own. He was very aware that Martin would grab the couch for tonight, because Jon had asked him to. So he was left shoving himself into the pyjamas that he left at Martin’s, wrapping his hair, and sliding under the covers.

But he wasn’t really tired. Jon’s mind kept churning and churning, trying desperately to tease out his own feelings, before realizing that he really didn’t want to know.

It was a really good conversation. Jon was glad that they had it - that Martin hadn’t gone along with it if he wasn’t comfortable, that he had actually pointed out where Jon crossed a line. Nothing about it was bad. Everything was a work in progress - Jon and Martin most of all.

So much of them clashed. So much of them cared about each other more than the clashing. They ran up against these things incessantly, and Jon felt as if they worked it out every time.

He would definitely make Martin breakfast tomorrow. Lots of bacon, although Jon never ate the stuff. He would have to clarify that the way this ended - it wasn’t Martin’s fault, not really. He would probably also have to clarify that his random terror wasn’t something that was any of Martin’s business. He was the one person Jon didn’t want to talk it over with, actually.

Martin respected Jon a lot. More than Jon thought was rational, considering...himself. He never vocalized what exactly he wanted, because he respected that it was never in consideration. Jon had even seen him want it less and less - it barely even came up anymore. Except, of course, when Jon teased on purpose…

When Jon teased on purpose and didn’t tell Martin that he didn’t want something so then he made himself -

It was a good conversation, except Jon ruined it because something stupid that didn’t mean anything at all sent him into abject shame and terror.

This was so hard. Jon hated thinking this much. He decided to fall asleep instead. Much simpler.

In dreams, where everything was an illusion and nothing meant anything at all, nobody minded that none of it was real.

Tim: omfg im so fucking hungoverrrr I hate being 34

Tim: good time last night tho

Tim: also like it WAS funny but you know we like you best as you, rite? U normally dont so Ill validate: liking you best as you, always

Sasha: THE DOCUMENTS, JON!!!

Sasha: Tim says you might have gotten the wrong impression from last night so I’ll also validate: all of you is good. Even the bad parts are good. Does that make sense?

Sasha: Tim said that that sounded ‘backhanded’ but you know what I mean

Sasha: Man why is it so hard to just say what I mean!!!

Sasha: Life’s stupid. Tell Martin I said hi.

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tim stoker #sasha james #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfiction #jon in sb: i will pretend to be the man who was your friend if it'll make you like me #jon here: HAHA KNOW WHAT'D BE HOT?

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begrudginglytumbling · 3 years

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Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Part Five!

Now with gifs!...since I’ve learnt the most basic of basic gifmaking and it was actually quicker than trying to pause at just the right moment, which has been enough of an issue previously to make me swear through gritted teeth.

Time for Love O2O - that’s both the film and the series since the little overachiever just had to get cast in both.

Ready?

Bai Yu plays a character called Cao Guang in both the film and drama. In the film he seems to be a smushed together version of what in the drama are two separate people.

Now then do you see this slightly bewildered expression while looking at a computer screen? Because this was basically me watching Love O2O, both film and drama.

Why the bewilderment?

Well, I’ve come to expect a certain level of odd sitting and leaning from Bai Yu. I almost expect all his characters to be some form of Bi Disaster now. But Cao Guang? So far I’ve never seen Bai Yu sit so straight. It’s slightly unnerving, in a similar way to if someone went into your house and moved things just slightly to the left. There’s not enough of a difference to cause major problems, but there’s enough for your mind to feel uncomfortable and twitchy because something is just off.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, he still does his Bai Yu thing, but it’s almost muted, I suppose is the best word to use for it.

We’ll start with the film version, which also has the alternate title of One Smile is Very Alluring apparently.

Before this moment, he’s actually sitting properly at the desk. Both feet were on the floor and everything which was just weird. But then he stood and transitioned into a lean, that made it a little less weird.

This is, technically, also further evidence that if something is at Bai Yu butt height, he will lean/sit on it. I think I’m going to have to start capitalising it since Bai Yu Butt Height now seems to be a Thing.

(I could not get this paused at just the right moment, so here, have a gif)

And look here! He’s sitting kinda properly and only vaguely uncomfortable looking, but that has more to do with the situation than the sitting.

Seriously, so weird.

If we stick with just the general premise of ‘does he sit or doesn’t he’ then being on a horse counts...even though watching the game scenes hurt me in a major secondhand embarrassment way. Just...the outfits, people, and the hair...I just...I can’t.

At one point he gets his arse handed to him multiple times, which leads to quite a bit of time on the floor.

Even the set refuses to let Bai Yu get up and support his own body weight apparently. The weirdness of him standing under his own power is obviously just too much.

Too odd.

Too strange.

He must be returned to his natural state of being.

The car magnet he’s got implanted in his backside did manage to do its job though...even if it was in the background and barely lasted a couple of seconds at most.

Now then, the drama. Admittedly I only got to episode 11 then I started skipping because I got a bit bored with the main pairing and general story. But the bits I skipped to? Yeah...I may have gone a little over fixated on the whole way of sitting thing since I found myself analysing the degree of leg bend when his feet weren’t in shot to gauge whether or not both feet were planted on the ground or if one was on top of the other and...yeah, let’s just say it was a good thing when I got to the end of this drama. For what remains of my sanity if nothing else.

Look, most of the time, if he’s not standing and walking, he’s like this.

Sitting properly, feet on the floor. And yeah, it counts as not supporting his own weight. But what happened to the floor is lava? How hard was it for him not to cross his legs, or put one foot on top of the other, or rest his feet on something else?

He does cross this legs sometimes, and you can even see it fully a couple of times.

Like here, this is what I’ve come to expect. This is a normal seated look for this man.

He sits.

He flicks one leg over the other.

He’s happy.

Simple.

But most of the time, he doesn’t have his legs crossed in this drama. Which led me to leaning forward and squinting at the screen when moments like this came along.

Because those legs are crossed. I’m sure of it.

Cao Guang, as a character, is not the kind of person to sit like this often. Bai Yu, as a person, can’t seem to stop himself fully though.

And look at this.

When it comes to this desk, this is the weirdest he sits. Which isn’t weird at all! It’s still kinda sitting properly!

And then this. This is one of those moments where I spent way too long staring at his legs trying to determined if he had one foot on top of the other.

From the angle, and the shadows, and the different heights of his knees, I have decided that yes, he does had one foot on top of the other. He is playing the floor is lava when the camera can’t see his feet.

(...don’t judge me for diving off the deepend on this one. I’m already judging myself hard enough)

Cao Guang might not be much of a weird sitter, but he is still a slight leaner if the opportunity presents itself.

Especially in Bai Yu Butt Height circumstances.

But in general, he’s less of a full body lean, and more of a light, quick lean. And it always seems to be on things he himself has placed there.

Like a moped,

or a camera.

He does sit on the floor in a sweaty mess after having his arse handed to him in a 1 on 1 basketball game.

Seriously, if you want a sweat physically dripping off of him Bai Yu, then this is the scene for you.

Further sittingwise you have some general sitting in what I think it meant to be a foreign country(?).

And the delightful lift-and-turn he’s got going on here.

(and I’ve only just realised that ErXi has her hand up as though if she can’t see the teacher, then the teacher can’t see her. I adore this woman, she’s just so cute)

Hospitals.

Every character of Bai Yu’s I’ve encountered so far has a different way of sititng in hospitals.

Zhao Yunlan looks like he’s barely seconds away from either sliding to the floor or giving himself back problems, Xie Nanxiang is partial to a lean or a cross legged sit. Cao Guang? I would describe it as he sits like a bloke - legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. This might honestly be the straightest Bai Yu character I’ve ever encountered.

Of course he also has an in-game character in this. The wig is less cringe worthy than in the film, but there is something about his eyes in this that freaks me the fuck out so you won’t be getting on the floor pictures or looking in the direction of the camera pictures because looking at it too much seems to trigger a mild fight, flight, or freeze response in me. And I’m in no mood to deal with such ridiculousness.

So, in game character. He does spend time on the floor, only a little though. Most of his time is actually spent walking. But then they get in a boat and Bai Yu gets to indulge in his favoured elbow hook seated position generally reserved for benches and breakfast bar surface things when he’s on a stool.

Ok, last but not least, the moped!

This is a moped that birthed a headcanon for me.

It would seem that regardless of character, if something is a form of transport with wheels, then Bai Yu will find some way to sit or lean on it.

And y’know what? He is fully capable of looking damned good while doing so.

So that’s it? I think the conclusion I can draw from this one is that Bai Yu’s sitting, leaning, and lounging habits are things he can either turn up or tone down depending on the character. It’s just that more often than not the characters he plays allow him to turn it up. But Gao Guang was one of the more subdued ones, more straight blokey vibes, than Bi Disaster ones.

Both film and drama are available on Netflix (at least here in the UK they are).

They’re also on YouTube - film - drama - with subtiles and pretty good quality.

And both are on DramaCool - film - drama

The drama is on Viki too.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

#Bai Yu #Bai Yu Sitting Project #Cao Guang #Love O2O #featuring the straightest Bai Yu character I've ever encountered #and yes #I'm including the military bloke who got blown up #and the Fa Hai dude #and the 8 seconds of screen time deskmate #that I am clearly /not/ still salty about #but honestly what even /was/ that film?#everything about it was just.../ugh/!#...ok...breathe...we're not going down that road again #if I could scrub that film's existence from my mind I would #just look at the pretty Bai Yu and breathe

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annetteblog · 3 years

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Public figures, coming out and the responsibility

Disclaimer: Although this post mentions Jikook, it is mostly my opinion about the general issue. So you can apply this to whoever you want.

Previously on annetteblog: I made some posts regarding coming out, homophobia and how I don’t agree that Jikook (or basically any other celebrities/well-known figures which you suppose are queer) are obliged/have to/owe us to come out (in case if they are actually queer). Moreover, I said that asking or even making anyone from institutionally homophobic country to come out, hoping that it would start some social changes, is cruel, because you think only about some distant bright future and not the problems, which this particular person would face now. Problems, which can possibly ruin someone’s health, safety or life.

/the main one (Jikook centric) - https://bit.ly/3hLOpSS + the ask I consider important here (not really Jikook centric) - https://bit.ly/359IBgB /

Now: I was trying very hard to remember where I could possibly hear some similar thoughts and tadaaa I remembered :D

Dan Howell

Yep.

Those, who know him well, may skip this paragraph. Dan has been an youtuber since 2009 and around that year was a big fan of another youtuber - Phil Lester. Shortly, without going into details, after some fanboying time they actually met in person, started seeing each other, appeared on each other’s YT channels, and eventually moved in together (that’s not my creepy assumption, that was a known fact even back then, okay?). Obviously, the speculations started to grew. Were they gay? Were they in love? Were they just besties? Were they dating? This discussion had been lasting year after year on various platforms and sometimes with no decency involved. The guys remained mostly silent (there were some jokes now and then, but nothing too serious). On June 2019 both of them came out, confirmed that they were not just friends, but asked to stay away from their private life.

If you have time, I would suggest you to watch all of the Dan’s video; yes, it’s long, but he said a lot of interesting stuff to think about imo. But here I wanted to focus on two specific parts. I will write their timing and highly recommend you to watch them, they are really short. (eng subs and subs’ translation to a lot of languages are available on YT)

youtube

First of all, note that he is a public figure. Even though he is an introvert, he is still more used to put his life/actions on display (I mean more in comparison with an ordinary person, who doesn’t have a YT channel/other SM platform with a huge audience). Plus he lives in the UK, which is not the worst country on the planet, as far as I can tell.

However, even taking these into account, he still mentions how it was uncomfortable for him to get all of these speculations about his relationship with Phil. [timing - 25:12 - 27:46] Uncomfortable to the point of triggering old mental issues (he posted a vid about depression about a year prior this one, look it up if you want). He had hard time growing up because of his homophobic environment; and he was bullied for “being gay” before he actually knew what this word meant. Years later when he and his relationship with Phil became a subject of a much broader discussion and gossip, it was not just weird or uncomfortable but actually “triggered some PTSD” (according to him).

So even if you mean no harm and generally are the nicest supporting person, going around and calling people gay may not be the best life strategy. Especially if these people didn’t give you permission to do so. Even if they are some kind of celebrities. Sure, maybe you are right in your suspicions, but this doesn’t make the situation better or easier for them. You never fully know a person’s life situation and what they could be going through. You don’t know their past and problems they faced before. You don’t know their personal feelings, thoughts and fears. And you can just accidentally make everything worse.

The second thing.

[timing 23:57 - 24:32 and 28:23 - 28:54]

“If a kid dreams of being a footballer and age 18 signed to a club and all their dreams come true, but they are scared to come out because of the insane homophobia in that community, they shouldn’t turn it down. Yes, it’s so important to be truthful about who you are and open and proud in front of the world, but it’s our society fault that these people are scared to say who they are.”

Different people perceive different things as the most important part of their lives. For someone it’s family and kids, for someone it’s being able to create, for someone it’s work and career, etc. And not everyone is willing to just give up their dream over something.

And that’s okay.

So I don’t expect people to gladly risk their successful career over coming out. Particularly if they perceive their work as their true passion in life. For some people it just doesn’t worth it, for some – career and being able to fulfill their dream is more important. Others have to make compromises in order to maintain balance between different parts of their life and personality, or they just don’t want to draw attention to the personal life altogether. And some people may be too afraid to lose everything. Especially, if the environment they live in is not friendly. They may just want to live peacefully and quietly with no additional danger hanging over their head.

In general, I think that no one owes us anything. One may say that a celebrity with a presumably higher social status and more influence has a responsibility to do something in their power to make the world a better place. Although I agree to some extent (e.g. charity), I don’t expect someone to put their life on risk. That’s too much to ask for and just not fair. Everybody deserves a happy safe life, and if this means that someone decides to stay silent for their own good, you should respect it. And if they decide to speak up - that must be their choice. Outing is never an option.

Bottom line:

If someone is presumably in the closet, stop trying to pour gasoline on it. You may accidentally burn down not only the wood, but the person in it too.

#lgbt #lgbtq #coming out #wow that was some metaphorical shit #jikook #kookmin #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jungkook #jimin #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts #bts ships #lgbtq relationships #lgbtq representation #lgbt relationship #long post

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life-rewritten · 3 years

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TharnType 7 Years: Love (For Better and For Worse)

After watching TharnType Episode 5, At first, I was surprised; the underlying overarching plot of the marriage disagreement and Fiat's journey to becoming our villain, was more or less not involved in the story this episode. There were clues as always, but not as focused in the subtext as it usually is. Actually, Mame focused this episode on the dynamics of our couples again, especially our Ukes (Type, Fiat, Phu and Khun) reasons for why they love the person they are paired with. We see more similarities and mirroring with all four couples this episode focusing on; being there for each other, showing assurance and confidence in each other, and exhibiting trust and security with what they have. The relationship dynamic of our couples is like marriage, where the two are in it for better or worse.

For better: When they realise that moment that this person is always going to be by their side, protecting them, comforting them and loving them no matter what, this real confidence that what they have won't be broken.

For worse: Because their partner no matter what loves them even during their flawed moments, is patient, caring and sweet with them even when they are not that way to them. Our Ukes find this joy and comfort in understanding that they are fortunate to have their semes. So this episode instead of focusing on the drama or conflict upcoming (there were still foreshadowings), this episode instead focused on the why of it all; why our couples are going to be together, why they love each other and why they're each other's person no matter what: Let's get into it.

For better or For worse: A strong bond that's unbreakable no matter what.

Tharn and Type:

Unconditional and Uncontrollable

I mean we already know all of this about this two. They've been in it for better or for worse from the beginning they first fell for each other. Tharn and Type are so committed to each other, from the start, they gave their all to each other, they accepted it was them till the end, once they overcame their obstacles.

For Tharn, he knew it'll always be Type because he can't imagine anyone else, and he was assured. Type won't leave him ever. For Type, Tharn was the reason for why he got through his past psychological obstacles and realised what he was, he accepted himself, his sexuality and chose Tharn as the only person for him. It's why in this episode he goes straight to Nana and repeats that to her.

For Tharn and Type for them their sexuality is each other, their preference is each other, no one else but them. Tharn is for Type as Type is for Tharn. No one else, nobody can compare. I love it; it's one of the reasons why I love these two so much. It's also why some of the audience may see their dynamic and deem their romance as toxic and that they are bad for each other because they get to see the most worst versions and defective parts of TharnType when they're with each other, but that's not a bad thing.

TharnType may fight, but it's because they have this unconditional trust with each other, where they can be themselves no matter what and still love each other. At his worst Tharn loved Type and embraced and accepted and waited for him. And at Tharn's worst Type will do the same time and time again. Remember these two have chosen each other, no matter what their issues are (like marriage disagreement) they are still willing to fight the world and back for each other, they're not letting go. That's why one of their promises to each other is that they're never going to break up. The amount of love, trust and need to be with each other these two have is insane, they're each other's soul mate, person and they know that they are confident in that, and they'll keep on protecting that. This is ironic because as mentioned repeatedly, they have different ways of wanting to protect what they have, in doing so they misunderstand each other and instead of protecting what they have, they end up just causing more cracks to it.

Cracks and Conflicts

This episode we didn't see any cracks formed as before, but there were still hints that it would happen. Tharn is still being manipulative behind the scenes and still is trying to find ways to get Type to accept the proposal (he's making plans to make him jealous, working with friends to make him more acceptable to the marriage). Still, Type is too focused on what's going on now (his job issues, parental disapproval of Tharn).

As this episode shows the pressures of all of it are bothering him, we see his reaction to this when finally tired of everything not going well; he shouts, he's rude, he says hurtful words and shatters and explodes. And that's foreshadowing that if he keeps feeling pushed or forced to do something he doesn't think is crucial right now (marriage) he'll explode at Tharn the same way he did this episode with the same words 'You don't me, you don't know what I'm going through' except this time it won't be easy to apologise and fix it. That's why it's so worrying when these signs show up for their relationship.

But I do also need to mention when focused on the marriage disagreement; Type is no longer as against it as he was. In fact, he's for it, but he has some stuff he wants to deal with before he finally accepts, he still wants more evidence of security/safety from the external world if he chooses to marry Tharn, he has a checklist, he's trying to ensure things are secure as much as possible, trying to prevent any issues that could happen with people (a safe space at work, his father accepting Tharn, Tharn's family reputation being safe no matter what,) before he accepts it. Remember he already thinks he and Tharn are married no matter what, so it's just the involvement of people and exposing that to others that scares him.

A Safe Space

However, with TharnType, no matter how bad they get one thing stays the same. Unconditional love and support. Type recognised that again as always this episode. He saw Tharn's care, protectiveness, worry, and he felt safe and loved no matter who he was. Thing is we saw him being so stressed and uncomfortable and burdened by everything happening, especially the boss plot. It's fascinating when you analyse how he speaks about the boss to other people: he's polite, he's quieter, and tries to be less angry when he says he's tired to Khun and to Phu. He holds his composure.

But with Tharn, he tried to avoid making him worried about it and tried not to burden him with it, but at his lowest and most stressed and anxious, he broke down and lashed out. But it's because he's with Tharn he lashed out. Because he can be his self with Tharn, even if it's awful, mean or rude. He's confident and secure that Tharn will accept him no matter what he says or does. And Tharn does precisely that, he walks away, and returns with a coffee and a promises to stay by Type's side when Type apologises.

I also want to mention that Tharn is Type's safe space; Tharn's presence revives his strength and is his source of peace and comfort (this is the same for every couple in this show). The whole episode he holds his composure, he's angry, tired, stressed but just by Tharn running to show him he's worried (after Phu texted him) you see Type's face light up, and you see him let all his worries go as he lays on Tharn's shoulder. That's his safe space, being with Tharn, holding onto Tharn, but also it's the confidence and assurance again from Tharn that he'll always be by Type's side.

Type is comforted by the secureness of his relationship with Tharn. No matter what goes on with other people, Tharn will always be worried and caring about him. Tharn will always be his strength and comfort. Tharn will always be protective and his rock. It's something innate with them; it's uncontrollable the love they have for each other, it's something that they both automatically are to each other: peace, comfort and strength. And it's also unconditional because their love knows no bounds, it's Tharn that Type wants no matter what, and this is the reason why because even when he doesn't know what ails Type, he still manages to be the one who helps him deal with it by just being there. Yet, even when he's attacked at and hurt by Type, he manages to stay and be supportive and help him deal with it by just being there. And this is the same for Tharn vice versa when he's at his weakest. This is who Tharn and Type are to each other, for better or for worse.

Leo and Fiat:

Gratitude and Certitude

With Leo and Fiat, it's the same but also different. Unlike Tharn, Leo is not as forthcoming with his protection and care, but he's instinctual and secretive with it. But like Type, Fiat knows what Leo is to him. Pause, Unlike Type, Fiat isn't fully confident in Leo's feelings for him and so wanders a lot, but he's grateful and happy just to have Leo by his side. And Leo is confident that what they have won't be ruined even if Fiat falls for someone. Let me explain more.

This episode was weird for me because the last episode we saw Leo realise that he wasn't okay with Fiat and Type getting to know each other, he noticed he was slowly no longer being the focus of Fiat's attention, and this irked him. So I was surprised to see that he'd returned back being quiet, secretive and just trying to ignore Fiat's obsession with Type. He'd gone back to pretending he was okay with it, and he'd reverted to just thinking it's Fiat being Fiat. This was annoying because this episode is when Fiat really starts to fall for Type. Don't get me wrong we didn't see a lot of Fiat and Type together this episode, but that's not the point before Type was just a quest for Fiat to win over. Fiat wasn't actually in love with Type at that time; he just wanted attention and a distraction from his feelings for Leo. This episode because Leo kept quiet and didn't try to stop it happening by saying something. Fiat just kept on spending more time talking to Type, seeing Type and falling for Type. It's no longer a game to Fiat anymore; he likes being with Type.

For people who are hating on him, he hasn't done anything wrong. He still thinks Type is single, and he just has a crush on someone who he thinks is great the more he spends time with him. Type makes Fiat giddy and happy, and so Fiat is just acting like someone with a crush. The person at fault here is Leo because if Leo comes out and tells Fiat, he's not okay with it cause he's jealous, Fiat would stop paying attention to Type.

That's what was being shadowed in their scene this episode. Look at this way:

Fiat's friends give Leo the boyfriend role; they ask him about Fiat because they know he's always by his side, protective and can speak for him if he's distracted.

They tease Leo about what he and Fiat are. Leo again pushes it off and pretends it's nonsense.

Fiat is distracted, not listening but always gets pulled out, from his focus by Leo touching or doing something for him.

Leo cooly takes away the liver on Fiat's plate so automatically, so instinctively he acts like it's nothing but look at Fiat's face;

He's shocked, and again grateful and in love. It's the same stare he gives Leo each time he feels touched. Fiat is so distracted by that action; he proceeds to drop the phone and pay attention to Leo by giving him food (the actual cooked ones whilst he gave the uncooked ones to his friends purposely). He'd been distracted, and his attention was back on Leo. It's' foreshadowing, Fiat might be distracted by his crush on Type, but Leo is still able to pull him away by just showing him affection or love. What Fiat wants from Leo is love, and he appreciates Leo being by his side.

He, later on, ensures Leo knows how grateful he is. But again Leo pushes it away and pretends it's nothing. And Fiat plays along and is so happy that he's always there protecting him. Leo is secretly pleased that Fiat is paying attention to him and proceeds to take the phone and again distracts Fiat from Type for just one day. When they're alone, Fiat becomes soft-hearted and sweet with Leo; he also mentions the assurance he has that Leo would still nag, protect, and care for him even if he was being annoying and spoilt.

No matter what

This is their own for better or for worse. Fiat realised like Type that Leo is going to always be there by his side, automatically Fiat is one of Leo's priority (and he loves being that), with Leo he trusts that he would be safe, taken care of and pampered. He also knows that even at his worst self, Leo is going to be patient, understanding and also can stop him from being stressed or upset. Remember he told Leo he goes crazy when he's not there to be his emotional support. It's the same as TharnType, the automatic comfort that Tharn and Leo bring Type and Fiat is recognised and relied on a lot by them.

Fiat knows Leo will always be there, and he trusts that he will always care (even when he feels hurt that Leo never sees him as a romantic interest). He's okay with being friends with Leo, as long as he has Leo by his side. But it's important to note that if Leo just shows Fiat love, and confesses to him, Fiat wouldn't be our villain, all he's ever wanted is for Leo to take him seriously as a romantic interest. It's Leo who keeps pretending that what they are is just friends.

Pretense and Protection

It's Leo who doesn't want to seem vulnerable to Fiat (he doesn't want him to even know the reason why he took the liver of his plate was because he cares for him) he just doesn't like not being seen as cool and different from other guys, Fiat has been with. It seems like he thinks Fiat gets bored when people become clingy or fall for him, (basically whenever he wins people's heart/ the chase). Remember he's seen Fiat with so many people before and he's seen him get bored and stop chasing after them.

I think this is the reason why he refuses to let Fiat know he has feelings. After all, if he does, it'll make their friendship weird when Fiat plays of his feelings like it's nothing or when Fiat's attention or flirty energy dims because he's finally won over Leo's heart. He doesn't want to be discarded like the others. So he also wants to just keep their relationship unofficial without crossing the line. The more he pushes Fiat's feelings or what they have away; the more Fiat is sure he'll never like him that way, and the more Fiat becomes our villain.

For better, Fiat and Leo know that what they have is not going anyway, they both trust that they'd be there no matter what. Fiat sees Leo as his safe space, he feels protected automatically by Leo, and he knows he can be his real self with Leo and Leo will stay. Leo is also his source of comfort and peace.

For worse: Fiat knows that Leo has seen him in his worst forms, his tantrums, his anger, his spoilt personality, and Leo still stays and pampers and takes care of him. Leo is the only person who can deal with Fiat and who can make Fiat calm down. But for worse is also the fact that Fiat will keep on being friends with and protecting what they have despite the fact that he's felt hurt by Leo pushing his feelings away. The for worse part is even though it hurts to stay and think about what he has with Leo (before Type) he'll still choose what they have over not having anything at all. Vice versa for Leo.

Champ and Khun:

Mindful and Careful

Champ and Khun surprisingly also mirrored our couples this time. They're more different, they're softer and have a different dynamic sometimes. Whilst LeoFiat and TharnType know what they are to each other and have chosen to stay with each other no matter what, ChampKhun are just starting. They're still in the first phases of their relationship. But Like the others, Champ shows care and worry for Khun. He makes Khun feel protected, and cared for because he tells him he cares, and he worries. With Khun, we can see he has this lack of self-esteem, for some reason he feels like he's not good enough, and he always gets guilty and worried that he's not likeable, but Champ automatically assures him each time they spend together that he's cute, he's worried and he cares.

Khun may not know where he and Champ stand, he has feelings, but he's not sure what Champ feels, but he does feel secure knowing that Champ is pretty protective and caring to him. In this episode he felt stressed and tired because of patients and work but being with Champ helped him take away those burdens; he found himself being noticed and cared for by Champ who also noticed he was busy, overworked and stressed.

Self doubt vs Trust

So like the others, Khun also developed a sort of safe space with Champ, as his source of comfort and peace, despite the pressures and business of the day he finds time to see Champ at the restaurant and spend time with him, and that helps him be distracted from work for a while.

Champ is different from Tharn and Leo, whilst Tharn is protective and frank about everything because he's always been that way and Leo is more secretive and hidden with his intentions. Champ is just automatically defensive and caring over Khun obliviously. He has no intentions, but he finds himself drawn to that instinctively because he thinks Khun is cute.

For Better: Champ and Khun like being with each other; Khun always gets reassured there's something there, but he also trusts that Champ cares for him a lot. Being with Champ makes him feel less stressed and protected, and also he can be his self without feeling hated or anxious. Champ has a food buddy with Khun (that's what he wished for), he finds happiness and comfort when Khun spends time with him, and he feels confident because Khun likes his food.

For worse: Khun has self-esteem issues and has a lot of self-doubts typically, he also feels clumsy and annoying sometimes, but Champ finds him cute despite him thinking he's not that great. Champ knows he's dumb and feels less confident about himself as his peers when it comes to love, but he feels reassured because Khun keeps on wanting to hang out with him and eat with him.

Cir and Phu:

Endurance and Assurance

Cir and Phu also showed up this episode, and I thought they were precious. With them; they've been together for a while, they communicate, and they have a very healthy relationship. But if you listened to the dialogue, they also showcased the same pattern this episode. Phu feels assured that Cir loves him no matter what because Cir is by his side and he's confident in what they have, he feels like he can endure the fact that Cir's mum disapproves of their relationship. For him, because Cir said he shouldn't worry, he doesn't, he trusts Cir would fix it. Phu is very secure with what he and Cir have that he's overly affectionate in public (unlike TharnType) and he's outspoken to Cir about what he feels (Unlike LeoFiat). Because these two ensure that they communicate and let the other know how they feel, even when Cir feels possessive and protective when he gets jealous of Type and Phu, he trusts that it's nothing and moves on even though he's sulking. He ensures Phu that he's his priority and that he cares and he worries for him (same as all the other semes) and Phu finds comfort and happiness knowing that. For Phu, Cir goes out and tries to find what he wants even when it's sold out, it makes him happy and feels loved. He finds him being jealous cute and also another sign of assurance that he's cherished.

For better: These two love and let each other how much they do with communication, affection and actions. They both feel loved and protected together.

For worse: Phu likes when Cir is insecure and jealous because he feels loved, and Cir assures Phu that he loves him no matter what even if his mum doesn't like their relationship.

Mame, this episode decided to focus on the positives of the relationships of all our couples in this show. And it's beautiful to see the dynamics. For better or for worse shows this bond/love that is so strong, and so beautiful, it's incredible what these couples have or are going to have with each other. Being able to find the person who accepts you at your worst, who you can be your true self with, who you feel loved and comforted with, who you matter to more than anything else is so great, and enviable. Mame knows that love isn't easy, but love is also so great between two people who are meant to be; it's automatic, protective and comforting. We all are human we have our flaws, we make our mistakes, and we aren't perfect, it's nice to have a show that shows a relationship between flawed characters who grow and get better because they have someone who pushes them to, but also a show that reveals relationships that are so precious and so dedicated to each other, that it makes you feel like crying and wanting the same. I like TharnType 7 years, this episode was great, and I still enjoy this show very much. Soon we'll stop focusing on this sweet stuff, and our characters flaws will quickly become a problem, but they'll grow, they'll change, and they'll be better because they've found each other for better or for worse.

More Tharn Type Analysis: Masterpost Check under Tharn and Type Here

#tharntype #tharntype 7 years of love #tharntype 2: 7 years of love #tharn and type #tharntype the series #thai bl #mewgulf #bl series #bl drama #december #cwg #mew suppasit #gulf kanawut

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k1ll-ur-vibe · 2 years

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I don't come on here much, so just so you all know: #IStandWithAllTimeLow #IStandWithJackBarakat and I always will. 💖💖💖💖💖

ATL saved me from myself when I first was being treated for severe depression and anxiety. They literally stopped me in the middle of a suicide attempt when I was 14. They helped me stop self-harming in 2013 when I was 15. Jack made me promise never to hurt myself again in 2017 when I was just a month away from turning 19. The year after that, I had my biggest episode in years and was extremely suicidal, to the point of writing a suicide note and making plans even. But I didn't do it, nor did I even hurt myself, because I promised Jack I wouldn't. He saved me. ATL have saved me, over and over again, since I was 14 years old. In April 2022, I'll be 24. And 6 days after my 24th birthday, it will officially be the 10th anniversary of my love for this band. I found them on 13th April 2012, and I've never looked back.

Over the past almost-decade, I've made so many amazing friends and so many amazing memories. I've seen the guys 16 times in person, 8 livestream shows over the pandemic. I've met them 5 times in person, as well as once over video chat during Basement Noise. I also went to soundcheck for the first time this past UK tour. ♥️ They recognise me these days and are always so happy to see me. They've never been anything but lovely to me. I am friends with their sound guy, Ricky, I'm basically friends with Alex's mother too as we've had a kind of back-and-forth going on Twitter for six years now and bonded over both being Welsh as she really misses it here sometimes. I'm mutuals with Zack on both Twitter and Instagram, and we've DMed before, as well as the fact that I've had him tag me in random posts, much to my shock when it happened LOL. I love these boys, and I always will. I have 3 ATL tattoos, one of those tattoos being of their signatures. They wrote those signatures for me in 2017, the same day that Jack told me to stay clean. I cherish that day so much. They were so kind about it being for a tattoo, which was so relieving as I was nervous that they would think I was weird for wanting a tattoo of their signatures. Nothing could have been further from what actually happened, they were actually so understanding and kind about it all. I adore them. 😭💖 As for Jack specifically, I've gamed with this man multiple times, he knows who I am now, we're literally at the point where, during Ricky's 1 year stream, Jack joined chat and the FIRST THING he did was scream my name to greet me. My *real name*, not my username. 🥺💖 I adore this man, and I always will. He is a total sweetheart and he doesn't deserve any of the BS being thrown at him rn.

I've known for a long time that my love for ATL is unconditional, I just don't tell anyone outside of my close circle that because I know that I would get pummelled for it if I said it on, say, stan Twitter. It doesn't matter what they do, I will ALWAYS love them. They're family to me now. Even then though, I don't believe these allegations anyway. They're so fucking easily disprovable if people would just look. I'm sick of going over the same things all the time though so I'll just say this: I will be with the boys every step of the way during their legal battle and afterwards, and I can't wait for these girls to get their asses sued into the ground by the guys. I was worried that the guys would be too nice to sue for defamation and stuff tbh bc, lbr, Alex didn't even report his fucking stalker. Sometimes these guys are too nice for their own good, but I think they're starting to thankfully finally realise that being too soft on this stuff can make it spin out of control. I just hope they're doing alright and that they'll make it out of this OK. ♥️ I am fully behind them, until my last breath. All Time Low for life. 💖💖💖💖💖💖🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

If my stance makes you uncomfortable, please just block me and move on. Thanks. Oh, and if you're sending Jack/the guys death threats, leaking Jack's personal info, or telling Jack to kill himself, fuck you. You are human SCUM if you're doing any of that shit or spreading it. I don't care what your opinion on the situation is, YOU DO NOT DO THAT SHIT. It's fucking DISGUSTING and I hope ATL's team get all your asses arrested and thrown in jail honestly.

My inbox is always open for anyone who's affected by all of this. 💖💖💖 Anon is off for my own safety and mental health but other than that, I am here if you are supportive of the guys and this has got you feeling down or worried at all. 💖💖💖💖💖 Those of us who are still supportive of the guys really need to stick together rn. 💖🥺 With our love and support, I'm sure the boys will make it through this OK. We've got a tough road ahead but we can do it. 💖💖💖 I believe in us, ATL fam. I doubt the boys will ever see this but if any of them do, I just want to say I love you boys and I hope you're doing OK. ♥️♥️♥️ Hang in there for us, OK? 🥺♥️💖♥️

#all time low #atl #alex gaskarth #jack barakat #rian dawson #zack merrick

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kiarcheo · 3 years

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One for the Books 1 / 2

The first time Cathy talks to the girl is...quite clichéd – Jane would perhaps compare it to a scene in one of the rom-coms she loves – as they are both reaching for the same book. The girl quickly retracts her hand, mumbling that she doesn’t particularly need it, before scurrying away.

Okay. The first time the girl talks...at her. Mumbles at her, if she has to be precise.

I was in the mood for some Parrward so I decided to finally finish this that had been in my head for a year or so and in my WIP folder since summer.

Can read on Ao3 too

——————————————–

At first Cathy noticed her in a sort of unintentional, subconscious way. Like when you see the same person on the bus every day on your commute and even if you never talk to them and don't know anything about them, they are familiar. You expect them to get on at that specific stop. To get off at another specific one. Always the same, day in and day out. And then you notice when they are not there.

So Cathy is aware of the girl at the university library she frequents. Always in the sitting area next to her favourite desk, always curled up in an armchair, reading, sometimes sleeping.

Then she takes notice of the books she reads. The varied topics. How quickly she seems to go through them. How she never has a laptop with her or even a notebook, never taking any note.

She notices the long hours, even longer than the ones Cathy herself pulls, which is saying something. Her friends are always teasing her that she would live at the library if it was allowed. Even more this year, since all four of her closest friends are spread around Europe on year-long exchanges and masters, leaving her all alone in the UK...and free to spend all the time she wants at the library without them dragging her out.

Okay. The first time the girl talks...at her. Mumbles at her, if she has to be precise.

The next time doesn’t go much further...or better. Once Cathy is done with the book, she brings it to her. She hovers by the armchair awkwardly, hands clutching the book.

‘Yes?’ The girl asks, a wary undertone in her voice.

‘If you still want it.’ Cathy thrusts it toward her.

She blinks up at her. ‘Thanks?’

She hesitantly reaches out to take the book. She puts it in her lap. They stare at each other in silence for a beat before Cathy turns on her heels and goes back to her desk.

But third time is the charm. Seeing the girl disappearing among the shelves with the book in her hand and coming back with another one, Cathy assumes that she has finished reading it. She hopes she is right as she approaches her and tries to strike up a conversation about it.

The girl looks baffled at being addressed, but she slowly seems to get more comfortable and soon they are involved in a lively chat about it, Cathy leaning against the arm of the armchair next to the girl’s one. Luckily, it is quite late and there is nobody else in the area so they can talk, albeit in low voices, without disturbing anyone – Cathy had waited until everyone had left so that there would be no witnesses to her awkward, and likely to fail, attempt at being a normal-functioning human being.

‘I’m Cathy, by the way. Well, Catherine but nobody calls me that.’ Cathy had been in the middle of a rant about the latest topic she has been looking into for her assignment when realisation had hit her that they had never exchanged names. Like she said, a disaster, she never claimed otherwise.

‘I get it. Nobody really calls me Katherine anymore.’

‘So what should I call you?’ Cathy just learned her name, but she already knows she doesn’t like to see that sorrowful expression on her face. ‘I’ve been calling you library girl in my mind, but it’s a bit of a mouthful.’

Being funny is not one of Cathy's strong suits, she is aware, so she is half-surprised and half-elated when a small smile appears on Katherine’s face. ‘Kat. With a K.’

Few days later it’s Kat who approaches her desk, a few books in her hands. ‘Have you read these?’

Cathy looks at the titles. ‘I’m quite sure I haven’t.’ She is also quite sure they are not even on the never-ending list of books to read she has, the titles not ringing a bell at all.

‘I had a hunch.’ Kat looks quite pleased with herself. ‘They are in another section because, well, different subjects.’ Yes. Cathy had not wanted to point that out, that the titles didn’t seem related to her topic at all. ‘But there are some interesting bits. This has a whole chapter,’ Kat points to an edited volume, ‘the others just paragraphs, but...you know. Different perspectives and approaches...maybe they can help?’ She seems to lose steam by the end, confidence draining away.

And help they do. Her lecturer is actually impressed by her citing one of those books. After wracking her brain trying to find a way to thank Kat, Cathy decides to go for something that she is pretty sure no student would ever say no to: coffee.

Kat accepts the paper cup, albeit a bit wary. Cathy tries not to take it personally. She had noticed that the girl is perennially on guard. She is comforted when she sneaks a glance towards her later on and sees her sipping from the cup, both hands wrapped around it, eyes closed, content expression on her face. Laying on the small table in front of her armchair are empty sugar wrappers and pots of cream and milk portions...not a single one had remained untouched. Cathy makes a mental annotation to bring Kat a cappuccino next time. Maybe she would prefer that to an Americano (maybe she could ask Kat herself, but that’s another matter).

‘I thought you weren’t coming at all today.’ Cathy is on her way back to her desk with a pile of books in her arms when she notices that what is in Cathy’s mind ‘Kat’s spot’ is now occupied while it was not when she passed by earlier.

Cathy cringes, realising she sounded a bit stalkerish, and indeed Kat shifts in her seat looking slightly uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she replies. ‘Double shift at the restaurant.’

Right on cue, Cathy’s stomach loudly growls. ‘Sorry.’ She mumbles sheepishly.

‘Have you had dinner?’ Kat looks like she has something on her mind.

Cathy shakes her head. ‘Just some snacks. I really need to finish this,’ she shifts the pile of books in her arms, ‘by the time I realised how late it was getting, everything on campus was closed already...so I raided the vending machine.’

‘Want to share some cold leftovers?’ Kat asks after a moment of hesitation. ‘They let me take them...’

Cathy’s stomach answers for her, letting out another rumble.

She repays the favour by bringing Kat a cappuccino at the earliest opportunity. And yes, Kat seems to enjoy that more than black coffee, she thinks giving herself a mental high-five. She stills pours all the sugar in it though.

They develop a sort of routine, or perhaps kind of a standing appointment. Cathy pretty much knows when Kat has her shifts at the restaurant, and if she times her study breaks for when Kat is around...well, sue her for wanting some company. And she does it for Kat too. She swears that the girl never leaves the library when it’s open 24/7, which is quite often. Cathy had tried to wait for her but gave up every time, always falling asleep on her desk more than once before relenting and dragging herself home, grateful to live quite close to the campus.

When it’s not raining, they often go for a walk around the campus, Kat always bringing her backpack with her. Cathy had wanted to question it, even if jokingly, once or twice, but Kat seemed to tense every time she noticed her glancing at it, so she never did. And after the first couple of times the small, folding, umbrella in it got them back at the library more or less dry when they got caught out in the rain...never going to question it ever again, not even in her mind.

They talk a lot. Kat never talks about her family or her course, Cathy had noticed, but she will happily chat about whatever book she is reading at the moment (or any of the many she has read), the customers at the restaurant or what weird thing she had seen on campus or around the city that day. Cathy is curious, of course, but she is not going to push. It’s not her business and she is sure Kat has her reasons for not wanting to touch certain subjects. Maybe she is still trying to figure out her academic journey and talking about it just stresses her out. She would certainly not be the first fresher to be confused and agonizing over courses choices, career direction and more in general what to do with their life. And there is probably not enough time in the world to list all the possible ways family can be crappy and a topic that people prefer to avoid.

Cathy keeps bringing Kat drinks every now and then, varying from cappuccino to mocha to hot chocolate...the sweeter the better, she learned. Kat keeps accepting them with hesitation and a touch of discomfort.

One day she decides to ask. She knows Kat likes them, but she also always looks uncomfortable receiving them, so if that trumps the enjoyment...she will stop.

‘I just don’t want you to spend money on me.’

‘You know how I work at that coffee shop?’ Cathy waits for Kat’s nod. ‘Well, the pay is crap, but we get drinks for free.’

She is a bit ashamed to admit it. Yes, everyone always says it’s the thought that counts, but nobody likes a cheapskate. Kat, however, looks relieved to hear that. It is weird that she seems happier now that she knows that Cathy is not paying for the drinks, which confuses Cathy...so she asks.

‘I just don’t feel comfortable with you buying me stuff,’ Kat explains, ‘especially since I can’t reciprocate.’

Check your privilege, Cathy! Now she feels even worse. She knows she is lucky. She wouldn’t say rich, but she is certainly economically comfortable. She is working at the coffee shop because she doesn’t want to rely completely on family money, but that’s how she can afford to rent her flat without having to share with anyone else. And her closest friends are from the same standing, let’s say, so while she knows that not everyone is in her situation...economic difficulties are not at the forefront of her mind.

‘Wait, what about when we went out for dinner? For my birthday?’ Cathy blurts out, before cringing slightly. Just because she could do it once, it doesn’t mean she always has money to spare. Or even worse, what if she didn’t have money to spare but she still did it? Did she feel like she had to, when Cathy had offhandedly mentioned it was her birthday while apologising for their chat being interrupted by her friends abroad calling her to wish her a happy birthday?

‘The restaurant belongs to the husband of my boss. Yes, they are both chefs, but they have different styles and,’ she shrugs. She had been surprised when she learned it, thought it strange that they would not work together at the same restaurant, but...if it works for them... ‘anyway, got the employee discount and took the rest off from my pay. Besides, it was a special occasion.’

‘Does it mean that I can take you out for your birthday?’

‘We’ll see,’ Kat looks disillusioned, ‘if you are still around.’

Cathy frowns. Why shouldn’t she still be around? But anyway. Kat’s birthday is in summer. That’s a long time to go. She wracks her brain. ‘What about a picnic? I could cook or just make sandwiches and we could-’

‘It’s November.’ Kat interrupts her, drily.

‘Right.’ Cathy deflates. How could she have forgotten about English weather?

‘Why are you trying so hard?’

Cathy is taken aback by the question. ‘I like you. As a friend. Obviously.’ She takes a fortifying breath. ‘But I’d like to be more-’

‘Like what?’ Kat’s voice is unusually sharp.

Cathy swallows, a prickle in her mind pointing out that Kat doesn’t look disgusted. Or angry. Her face is quite inexpressive, to be honest, but she can see the distress in her eyes. And it doesn’t look like nerves like her own. Well. In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘Holding your hand? Cuddling? Dating? Calling you my girlfriend?’

Kat doesn’t seem reassured by her answer. Cathy has a fleeting thought that maybe she is worried and unsure about relationships in general. She is younger than herself and perhaps she never dated before (she is a beautiful girl, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? She learned her lesson about assuming everyone date as teenagers with Jane). She is suddenly happy that she didn’t include kissing, even if she does want to kiss Kat. She remembers that with her first, and only, boyfriend, what she had wanted was...what Thomas later on branded as ‘lame’ affection while all he seemed to want was to stick his tongue down her throat...and more.

‘That’s it?’ Kat scoffs. ‘Nothing more?’

‘Not if you don’t want to.’

Kat looks like she doesn’t believe her. Cathy feels slightly hurt at that, before another thought occurs to her. What happened to Kat for her to be so distrustful? The more her brain comes up with possibilities, the angrier she gets, so she tries to stop it before it gets out of hand and she assumes things that might not be true.

‘If you want to just stay friends, that’s fine.’

‘But?’ Kat is tense, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

‘But if you would like to give it a try,’ Cathy can’t help thinking that Kat never said she is not interested. That’s like the first thing people do, right? Turning the other part down by telling them they only see them as friends or stuff like that. ‘We don’t have to…label it. We can just…spend time together. See how it goes?’

And that’s what they do.

——————————————–

If everything goes according to plan, the second chapter should be out next weekend.

#parrward #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six the musical #howard x parr #mywork #six writing #six fanfic #six the musical fanfic #my ideas #parr x howard #my posts #six fic #six the musical fic #sixfic #my six posts

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dont-cry2020 · 4 years

Text

“Guess You’re a Celebrity Now, Huh?”

Harry Styles X Reader

//inspired by an idea given to me by the wonderful @peter-andthelostboys//

//What happens when there’s a new girl at an arts college? Well, she receives anonymous portraits shoved under her door, that the notorious Harry Styles may have something to do with//

//Fluff and angst//

//this definitely isn’t my best work but I haven’t been feeling super motivated lately, so thank you for your patience. i might try and rewrite this another time bc i really love the idea//

Harry loved to draw. It was his passion.

He was quite good at it, too, so it was really no surprise to his friends and family when he got accepted to art school in Los Angeles.

It’s a scary thing to move all the way across the world, let alone by yourself, but Harry adjusted quickly, enjoying the warm climate that was so different from the UK.

You, on the other hand, were feeling quite lost after high school. Your parents pushed you into medical program after medical program, determined that you were going to ‘make the family proud’ and ‘become rich and smart.’

For starters, you could care less about being rich, but you decided to humor your parents by going to medical school. Yeah, it was hard.

So incredibly hard.

So hard, in fact, that you could count the panic attacks and all nighters you pulled on two hands.

However, you found in yourself a passion for music; whether that was writing music or playing guitar or singing, it made you feel whole. Something that medicine and doctorates degrees could never.

As Junior year began and the weather got crisper and the air constantly smelled like cinnamon and spice, you started to feel lonely on top of the stress. Sure, you had your friends, really good friends at that, but that wasn’t the problem. You longed for someone to love, someone to hold you and help you through your ups and downs and someone for you to help through their ups and downs. But, you knew that you couldn’t handle a relationship right now, for Christ’s sake you were studying to be a goddamn doctor!

You had a boyfriend freshman year. He was kind, smart, and, much to your parent’s approval, was studying to become a pediatrician.

But you weren’t happy.

It was always about school and homework; never parties or holidays or even intimacy. So, you ended it, and as junior year is upon you, you haven’t had a boyfriend since.

Your girlfriends noticed that you were lonely, so they spent their time setting you up with hot college medical students to which you indulged in, and it was fun, sure, but you still weren’t happy.

So you did the one thing that your parents never forgave you for.

You dropped out.

You dropped out of medical school and transferred to an arts college, one that you had your eye on since freshman year, and one that was about as far away from home as you could possibly go.

You didn’t tell your mom or dad, didn’t tell them because you already knew what they were going to say.

“You’re ruining your future!”

“You have no chance of getting a job now!”

They hadn’t stopped since they found out from your brother, wondering why such a smart girl would become an art student. They didn’t even know you liked art.

You were sad to leave your friends, sure, who wouldn’t be? You loved them, but you all understood that it was for the best. You had a dream, and you were going to chase it. They stood at the gates of the airport, waving and crying and hugging you as you boarded the plane from London to LAX.

“Here we go.”

...

Art school was weird.

There were no snobby students with 4.0 GPA’s to wave in your face, no professors that thought they were better than everyone else or classes that you dreaded going to.

It was actually fun. Who knew that college could be fun, right?

Moving into your dorm was terrifying. You didn’t know where to go or who your roommate was going to be, and despite your previous experiences, it was already half way through the first semester, and every one else had their chances to collect their bearings. Luckily for you, you got your own room because everyone else had already moved in and had roommates.

...

Rumor had spread throughout campus that a new girl had moved in.

“Apparently she’s English,” or “she transferred from medical school” or “she’s a music major” were all things that Harry heard walking down the halls of his dorm and through the lawn and in classes.

It seems like this new student was all anyone ever talked about.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued, for he was English too, and curious at that, but he was an art student and you were a music student, so he never saw you around, and none of his friends had ever met you either.

As February rolled by, you had found that you adjusted quite nicely, making a few close friends and acquainting yourself with new faces.

The weather was probably your favorite part about this school. Back home, you would never even dream of studying outside on the lawn in the middle of the winter, but here you are, sitting in a circle with a few of your friends, talking and laughing about music and strumming your guitar.

Harry had his headphones in walking home from class. He was tired and he really just wanted a quick nap. It was Tuesday afternoon and the sun was shining, so there were tons of people on the lawn. It wasn’t a new thing for people to be playing instruments or singing when it was nice outside, so he didn’t bat an eye when he heard strumming of a familiar song.

But his eyes widened when he heard an accented voice that matched his own. His eyes followed a group of students, most he had seen before, but he didn’t recognize the girl with the English accent.

She must be the new girl.

Harry convinced himself that he didn’t want to go back to his dorm to work on his art, but it was such a beautiful day that he would sit on the lawn and sketch his little heart out.

He found himself staring at the girl, memorizing every freckle and curve of her face, quickly looking at his lap when you caught his eye, feeling like you were being watched.

“Who’s that?” you asked your friends, pointing at the boy sitting by himself, nose buried in his sketch book.

“That,” Jack said, eyes widening, “is Harry Styles. Probably the hottest guy on campus.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “Jack’s just mad because he’s not into guys. He’s British like you, ya know.”

“He is hot,” you say, looking over at the boy with curly brown hair and tattoos littering his arms. “I should introduce myself.”

“Yes girl, get it!” Jack cheers. Rolling your eyes, you walk over to him.

“Can I sit?” you ask, looking down at Harry. He looks up at you eyes widening, scrambling to close the sketchbook that was full of drawings of you. He couldn’t help it, you were just so gorgeous. He nods his head slowly, eyeing you up a bit.

“‘M y/n,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“Harry,” he says, engulfing your hand in his large tattooed one. His rings catch your eye, reflecting the light and making him look that much more intimidating. “You’re English,” he remarks, not asking, but rather telling as if you didn’t already know.

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, his stare making you slightly uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “Jus’ never seen you around here.”

“‘M new. Transferred last semester.”

Harry was interesting. He was funny, sweet, but a little reserved and intimidating, too. He was an art student that looked like he was the lead singer of a rock band. He dressed in dark jeans and jumpers and wore necklaces and rings. Never what you would have expected to be attracted to, being an ex-medical student and all. But, despite your doubts, you found him very appealing.

The conversation ended when he had to get to class, so you bid him farewell and returned to your group of friends, egging you on for every detail of your previous conversation.

...

The week finally rolled along to Friday, and you were set to go to bed early and watch netflix alone, in proper need of some me time. Your friends, however had other ideas when they barged into your dorm with a bottle of wine and the skimpiest dress they could find.

“Come on, y/n, please!” Jack begged you, walking to your closest and rifling through your clothes in the most extra way possible. He pulls out a pair of lacy panties and a matching bra. “All of your clothes make you look like a prude, so you’re wearing this.”

“Hey!” you say, snatching the undergarments from him and shoving them back into your drawer. “I’m so spent tonight, I really don’t feel like going out.”

“But,” Margot says, pulling your makeup out from your desk, “a certain British boy will be there.”

Suddenly all parts of you that were fatigued and not wanting to go to a party change their direction and you’re snatching the dress from Jack’s hold and going to the bathroom.

“Forgot something, sweetie,” he teases, throwing the lacy underwear at you.

You looked hot. You weren’t gonna lie. The black velvet dress clung to all your curves and stopped right above your knees, scrunching up on the sides with little ties. Your hair was curled and eyeliner sharp, and you honestly felt a little overdressed for a little college house party. Little did you know, LA art students don’t mess around at house parties.

To say that heads didn’t turn when you walked in the room would be a complete lie. All eyes were on the new girl, including a familiar pair of sparkling green ones.

Harry was intrigued, to say the least, watching the new girl dance around the house, nursing a drink and laughing with her friends. He wasn’t much of a party guy himself; he had a lot of friends, sure, but he preferred just to stay home or have small get togethers with them.

He felt himself being drawn to you, sliding in between grinding bodies and swaying slightly to the music as he neared your own dancing body.

“D’you wanna dance with me?” Hot breath fans over the back of your neck, goosebumps erupting over your skin. Spinning on your heels, you weren’t all too surprised when you were face to face with the only other Brit in the room. His gaze flickered across your face, brow furrowed and concentrated as he set his hands on your hips. You threw your own arms around his neck giggling to yourself as you saw Harry smile for the first time since you met him. His perfect white teeth had butterflies erupting in your belly.

You danced for a while longer, all the alcohol you had consumed earlier finally catching up to you. Giggling as you lose your balance, Harry catches you, holding you still before smashing his lips to yours.

Mere seconds felt like hours as his lips touched yours. You barely knew the guy, but for some reason it felt like the best kiss of your life. Yet, somehow, you knew you wouldn’t remember it in the morning, so you focused on the present and how he made you feel.

He made you feel good.

It felt like nothing you had ever felt before, sparks flying and hearts pounding and every other phrase used to describe something completely and utterly amazing. You got lost in his lips, memorizing every inch.

You pulled away, not completely unaware of the lust in the curly haired man’s green eyes.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you tell him over the booming music, slipping out of his arms and entering the much quieter but still noisy kitchen.

“Y/n! Where’d you go earlier?” Margot questioned, smirking at the lipstick smudged across your face.

“Jus’ dancing,” you slur, getting yourself another cup of whatever alcohol was on the counter.

“Mhmm,” she says, knowingly raising her eyebrows and taking your cup, replacing it with a bottle of water. “Think you’re done.” You groan, begrudgingly taking a sip out of the bottle, your body silently thanking you for ending it’s torture.

Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but as soon as you left him, he was being dragged onto the dance floor by some girl, he wasn’t sure who, and was being grinded on and made out with.

“Y/n,” Jack said, tugging Margot by the arm, eyes widening “do you want to head back to your dorm now? We know parties aren’t really your thing.”

“What! I’m having so much fun!” you sway on your heels, trying not to fall down. “Why do we have to leave I-” your heart dropped in your chest.

Harry’s tongue was dancing with some random girl’s, not even five minutes after he had kissed you. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world, maybe you shouldn’t have been so attached to a man that you had just met and just kissed once, maybe you were drunk, but you didn’t care. It felt like your world was crashing down.

You ran as fast as your bare feet could carry you, Jack and Margot chasing you, yelling at you to slow down, but you didn’t listen.

Harry saw you run out of the party, pushing the girl sucking his face off and palming him through his jeans away. He thought that maybe he should go after you, but he didn’t feel like it’d be welcome. He ran his hands through his hair, eventually following your lead and leaving the party to head back to his own dorm.

Your feet carried you all the way to your room, unlocking it and throwing yourself on the bed, mascara tears staining your pillow case.

“Hun,” Jack says, petting your hair and pulling it back into a pony tail. “Don’t worry about this prick. He’s not worth your time.”

The rest of the night was spent with Jack and Margot holding back your hair as you threw up what seemed to be everything you’ve eaten in the past two weeks, and you crying about you didn’t even remember what anymore.

Harry tried to sleep that night, still buzzed and tired from the party and the previous week, but he couldn’t seem to rest his racing mind. He got out of bed, only clad in a pair of boxers, and went to his desk, pulling out his sketch pad and getting to work. He drew line after line and shadow after shadow, constructing a piece that he felt genuinely proud of, something he hasn’t felt in what seemed like ages. He knew that it needed to be seen.

...

Your head was pounding. Absolutely hammering in your head. Jack and Margot were passed out on the floor, blankets and pillows and water bottles littered the bedroom and after seeing the stains on your pillow, you really didn’t want to look in the mirror. However, you eventually had to get out of bed, throwing the covers off your bare legs and sluggishly walking into the bathroom. The best part about transferring in the middle of the year, you found, was that you didn’t have a roommate to share the bathroom with, or someone that would see you like this.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whispered, taking in the reflection looking back at you. Your cheeks were tear-stained with black streaks of mascara, your hair was matted and had chunks of something you hoped was not throw up in it. Not to mention that you were still wearing your dress from last night, except now it was bunched around your torso like a tight potato sack.

You stripped, throwing your clothes onto the floor and getting into the shower. The hot water cascaded down your head, wetting your hair and face and washing all of the regret away. You were in the heavenly water for a good long time, fingers starting to prune up from the steam and liquid.

Walking back into your room, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Jack and Margot had left a note on your bed, saying that they went to get breakfast and would be back soon. You thanked God that it was Saturday and you didn’t have any classes.

You immediately got back into bed after you dried off, pulling the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes, hoping to calm the pounding in your head just a little bit. That’s why, when there was a quiet knock on the door, you didn’t get up immediately, thinking that it was just a courtesy knock from Jack and Margot before they barged in with food. But when that didn’t come and the hallway quieted, you rolled yourself off the bed, grumbling to yourself and opening the door.

“Hello?” you say to no one in particular, seeing as there was no one on the other side of the door. You looked around, peeking your head into the deserted hallway, before finally looking down and seeing one of those big orange manila envelopes. You figured it was something from the front desk or maybe a letter from your mom telling you how you were making a mistake, but bizarrely enough, there was no address or even name. You took one more look around the hall before going back into your room and shutting the door behind you.

Curiously, you picked open the envelope with your fingernails, carefully ripping the paper. You pulled out the paper inside the envelope.

Shocked was an understatement to how you were feeling. A gorgeous portrait of lines and shapes that created none other than your face. It was a little chilling, knowing that someone has been examining your face and features so closely, but also because there was no name or address...not even a note.

“What’s that?” Jack asks, barging into the door, arms full of muffins. He throws you one, sitting down on the bed next to you and examining the paper in your lap.

“Someone left it at my door, but there’s no note or name or anything,” you say quietly, eyes scanning the picture. “That’s weird, right?”

“Ooh,” Margot says. “Somebody’s got a secret admirer!”

“More like a stalker,” Jack remarks, tracing the paper with his fingers. “Who do you think would do this?”

You honestly had no clue. The only visual arts student you knew was...no.

“Harry!” Jack says. “It has to be Harry!”

“There’s no way in hell it’s Harry,” you remark, slipping the paper back into it’s envelope and placing it onto your desk, changing the subject to the events of the previous night.

...

A few weeks later, Harry found himself drawing constantly; whether it was small sketches or bigger works, they all had one common factor; they were of the same woman he couldn’t get out of his head.

You, on the other hand, had received quite a few more drawings stuck under your door. At first, you weren’t all that phased, but you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that you didn’t know who was doing this.

Margot had called it a ‘secret admirer’ but you weren’t quite sure whether it was that, or a stalker. Sure, it was sweet and all the drawings were beautiful, but how did said person find out where your room was? Or how did they know when to put the drawings by your door so they could have enough time to leave?

Jack had suggested that you sit by the door until there’s a knock, so one night, you settled by the door, rather impatiently waiting.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Feeling your eyes get heavy, you let yourself go, falling limp against the door and succumbing to a deep sleep, so when you were startled awake from a knock on the wooden door, you weren’t able to register what had happened fast enough.

Sure enough, when the door swung open there was another envelope, just like all the other ones you had received, except this time, something caught your eye.

There was a date and a time scribbled in messy handwriting: 7 PM, 2/23.

Your brow furrowed, staring at the information written on the paper, eventually pulling our your phone and sending a picture to your friends.

what does this mean ? you wrote, referring to the information you had received.

OMG! that’s the art show tomorrow! jack responded

you have to go now! Margot sent

You were a little creeped out to tell the truth, but you wanted nothing more than to find who the mystery artist was, and why they wanted you to go to the art show.

It was no surprise when Jack and Margot barged into your dorm the next day, rifling through your closet and styling you.

“It’s a goddamn art show, not a party,” you said as Jack pulled out another frumpy dress that he probably made you buy.

“Okay, and?” he asked, fluttering his lashes that were honestly far longer than you could ever get yours.

So, here you were, standing in the middle of the art hall, hair and makeup done, looking nervously around the exhibits that other students had created. They were all really beautiful, but you found yourself being drawn to one in particular .

A large oil painting of a girl with y/e/c and y/h/c laughing with a guitar in her hands was standing at the center of the room on an easel. The sky was painted with deep purples and blues and pinks and you couldn’t help but gape at the blending of colors. Something about the painting was familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Mr. Styles, is this the model you used for this gorgeous work?”

“Er... Yes, actually.”

You stop in your tracks, glancing up at the painting one more time and then turning towards the voices. Harry.

Harry painted this. And it was a painting of you.

You opened your mouth to say something, closing it after nothing came out.

“You-?” you whispered, still awestruck from the fact that Harry was the artist.

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and giving you a shy smile.

“And the drawings?”

He nods his head.

You stand there in awkward silence for a moment before he motions for you to come follow him. Your steps fall in place behind his as he leads you outside into the cool February air.

“I thought I should explain...” he says, ruffling his hair but not looking at you. “Tha’ night, at the party,” he starts, pausing for a moment to gather his words. “When I kissed ya... I felt something. And I know you did too... and then tha’ girl, whashername?”

You just shrugged your shoulders, slightly amused by the crease formed in the man’s forehead.

“Anyways,” he continues, “doesn’t matter. But when she kissed me and I saw you run out, and she kissed me,” he emphasizes the last part, widening his eyes and you just shake your head, lips curling up into a smile. “An’ I was gonna run after you but I didn’t think I’d be welcome... so I knew I needed to make it up to you... and after I met you on the lawn I couldn’t get the image of you laughing with your friends outta my head and I just knew I had to draw you and-” he continues to ramble on, but you just shush him, gripping your shirt in your fists and pressing your lips to his.

He trips slighty but you hold him into place by the fabric of his shirt, his hands eventually sliding onto the small of your back.

“D’ya wanna go out with me?” he asks as you pull away, his eyes glimmering in the sunset as you both catch your breaths.

“Yes,” you say, laughing slightly. “I do.”

Harry called you a few days later, asking if you wanted to go get coffee at a shop that he went to often. You obliged, saying that you would love to, ‘forgetting’ to tell your two best friends so they would leave you be to get ready.

You were excited; it was your first real date with Harry, and you liked him a lot. You had chemistry and it was clear as water to anyone who saw.

Walking into the coffee shop and looking around, Harry’s arm waving at you caught your eye. He gave you a warm smile, gesturing to sit at the seat across from him.

“Hey,” you say, greeting him.

“Hi,” he says, pulling your chair out for you before sitting down in his own seat. “I ordered you a latte. I hope that’s okay?”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling the coffee to your lips, choking on it at the sight of a certain painting hanging on the wall.

“Har- that’s- that’s your painting!” you tell him. He only smirks and nods his head.

“’S on display,” he says, resting his head on his hand. “Thought everyone should have the pleasure of looking the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You blush, taking another sip of your latte, before a little kid comes up to you, chocolate smudged across his face.

“Is that you?” he says, pointing a chubby finger at the picture. You chuckle.

“Yeah, actually, it is.” you say, smiling at his mom as she apologetically takes her boy by the hand.

“Guess you’re a celebrity now, huh?” Harry says.

“You made me famous,” you tell him, grinning at the green eyed boy in front of you.

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