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blahkugo · 4 years

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Biggest Fan

DABI x HAWKS x READER

Music! AU inspired by THIS photo set...or, the one in which Dabi, Hawks, & Endeavor are a famous rap group, and the reader gets VIP treatment.

NSFW begins after the ~~~ for those of you who don’t care for plot!

Warnings: 18+!, SMUT, cursing, threesome, rough sex (? not sure what your definitions of the word are but they do be slapping you around…), just pure filth basically

You’ve been squealing into the phone for the past ten minutes. Honestly, you can’t believe the words coming from your best friend’s mouth, even after asking her to repeat them a fourth time.

“Babe, even if you weren’t my agent, I would have found a way to get you in,” Rumi scoffs into the speaker, unphased by your relentless questioning. Though she’s always been a bit impatient when it comes to your antics, she knows how big of a deal this is to you. “How could I not? You talk my ear off about them.”

“I owe you for the next thirty years!” Your screech turns the heads of a few other customers, and you can feel the irritation radiating off the glare of one particularly peeved woman seated near you. But who cares? You’re too excited for a few middle-aged drags to dampen your mood.

“Remember what you just said the next time I try to skip out on an interview,” her laugh echoes loudly; she must be at the studio.

“Yes! Whatever you want, Twinkle Toes. It’s yours!” She begins to grumble at the use of the old nickname,

“How many times have I told you not to-” You catch the scowling woman turning towards you.

“Got-to-go-text-me-the-details, love you!” The parting phrase comes out a hurried ramble. Unbothered as you are by a few stares, direct confrontation definitely isn’t worth the trouble. You’re out of the bistro and in your car before anyone can open their mouth.

The cup of iced coffee you press to your flushed face does nothing to curb the elation threatening to bubble over from inside you. Rumi really has outdone herself this time. Being that she’s both a long-time best friend and client of yours, you know just how hard she’s been working to book a job of this caliber. Images of the two of you icing sore feet after hours of grueling practices spring to mind, making your bad ankle throb. If you could tell your younger selves who they are now— an internationally acclaimed dancer and a talent manager with a novel’s worth of influential clients— they wouldn’t believe it. And the work was paying off in more ways than one. Soon, Rumi will be making her music video debut...and you’ll actually be in the presence of your favorite artists, Suns of Icarus.

The rap trio’s been all you can talk about forever. No, like really, forever. Even back at arts school, Rumi had to talk you out of choreographing dances to their music practically once a week. You can still hear her promising you that your 70 year-old ballet instructor did not, in fact, want to see you pirouette to a song that's chorus consists of Hawks saying the word “pussy” over and over again. Usually the memory would drown you in embarrassment (especially considering the story is Rumi’s favorite icebreaker), but now even that can’t hamper your mood. You sigh cheerily, pulling into your reserved parking space. Tomorrow, you’ll be surrounded by your idols.

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask for the third time in an hour, tugging at the hem of your silk tank. Though you’re wearing your favorite suit, you can’t help but feel out of place in the large dressing trailer. After all, it’s not every day that you accompany your clients on their gigs. Your job is getting them the gigs, and usually you prefer it that way.

“(Y/N), quit stressing! If you looked any hotter the guys would have a heart attack,” your best friend bellows loudly. “Doesn’t she look smokin’?” She questions the hairdresser who, apart from a nod and reassuring smile, you can’t quite understand over the sound of the blow dryer. “Who’s the bad bitch that got me this job in the first place? Oh right, that was you,” she pumps a manicured finger towards you to echo the claim, “so woman up!”

She doesn’t put her finger down until she sees your face soften. It’s not like she’s wrong. “Professional smooth-talker” is basically your job description. In Hollywood people are afraid of you, the woman who can make or break a career. Who are you to let a couple of talents get you riled up? You allow your body to relax in your seat. Even if those talents are the group of boys that you’ve been crushing on since you were 16. Recalling that fact has you scrambling out of the trailer, face beet-red yet again.

“I’m going to grab something from the coffee cart. Be right back!” The door shuts behind you with a loud thud. Rumi should be spending this time going over the routine, not talking you down from the ledge you’re attempting to throw yourself off of over a few stupid guys. Besides, you’ll probably receive a polite greeting at best. The world’s favorite musicians have more important things to do than indulge your fantasies.

Having iced coffee and a bagel in your hands is all you need to feel the tension in your shoulders dissipate and your smile return; truly a working woman’s comfort meal. The spring in your step is restored as you walk back to the trailer, too entranced by the savory goodness to properly hear the voice that hollers from your right. You do, however, hear the scolding that follows the catcall,

“How many times have I told you not to hit on people that work for us, birdbrain.” Your entire body swings towards the familiar nickname and a piece of bagel nearly falls from your mouth. Not even a few feet away, Dabi holds your favorite vocalist in a one-handed headlock, attempting to ruffle the blonde’s hair while keeping a cigarette balanced between his own fingertips.

“Not the hair, man! The stylist’s already had to touch it up twice today!” Hawks’ shrieks are muffled beneath the bicep of his counterpart.

“Go apologize,” The lanky man shoves Hawks towards the spot your feet are now cemented to. Though he’s reprimanding him, you swear you detect a hint of amusement in his tattooed face. “I’m sorry about him, sweetheart,” he calls, lips contorting into a smirk that should be illegal. You feel your thighs press together on their own; the situation isn’t made any better by the pretty boy walking towards you, hands threading through his golden locks in an effort to fix the havoc Dabi wrought.

“My bad,” he flashes you an award-winning set of teeth you’ve previously only had the pleasure of viewing through your laptop screen; somehow they’re even pearlier in person. The glimmer of a tiny gem catches your eye and you notice one is sealed to his canine, only dazzling you further. “I meant what I said though, you’re gorgeous,” his hand moves from his own hair to twist a piece of yours between his fingertips. The lack of boundaries leaves you feeling stupefied, but he doesn’t let up, going as far as wrapping the lock around his polished index finger. God, even his hands are pretty...What if they were trailing the inside of your thigh and— Your mind shouts at you to behave, a fruitless undertaking when the object of your adolescent desires is touching you ever-so softly.

“Um- I- Thank you?” The stuttered phrase comes out confused. Where the hell is the professional smooth-talker side of you when you need her? “I’m Rumi’s agent and uh- I-I’m a big fan!” Heat blazes through your face and chest; you’d slap yourself for the outburst if they weren’t here.

“Oh, really? She told us all about you!” He waves a hand towards Dabi. “Oi! Matches! She’s not an assistant, she’s Rumi’s manager!” The gloomier man extinguishes his cigarette before making his way towards the two of you, smug expression wavering only when he glances at Hawks. A short wheeze leaves the blonde when his chest is smacked lightly by his partner.

“I told you not to call me that.” Dabi turns his attention towards you. “(Y/N), right?” He sticks a hand out to shake and you quite literally drop the remains of the bagel to reciprocate the motion, a move that makes you redden and him snicker. “Rumi told us you’re our biggest fan,” his sly grin tells you your loud-mouthed best friend had probably spilled too much information their way. Oh, she’s definitely going to get an earful later.

He doesn’t drop eye contact the entire time he’s speaking to you, and you find yourself enchanted by the deep sea-blue of his irises. You would literally swim in those pools if given the chance. Only when Hawks clears his throat do you realize you’re still shaking his friend’s inked hand. After dropping it rapidly, you urge yourself into composure out of pure distress.

“Sorry, I’m honestly a bit starstruck. I’m sure Rumi told you how much I love your music,” you finally sound a bit like your usual self.

“She didn’t really mention our music, did she Matches?” Hawks chirps, dodging Dabi’s fist this time.

“No, I don’t think she did, dipshit,” he spits the insult through gritted teeth as a final warning. “But I do remember her telling us something about being your first two crushes...or was it your ‘sexual awakening’? I can’t really remember the term she used…” Your knees almost buckle at the obvious teasing, and you silently swear to murder Rumi when she’s done shooting this video. It’s evident that the mockery is highly amusing to them— the glints in their eyes border on ravenous.

Because you’re not typically someone whose presence is taken lightly, the thought of being toyed with by a few arrogant men has your blood boiling. You’ve already dealt with too many pretentious assholes who don’t believe women, especially younger ones, belong in management; you didn’t claw your way to the top of the industry for all of that hardship to go to waste. Ever the more perceptive of the duo, Dabi seems to realize the shift in your mood.

“Relax,” he reaches a hand towards you before thinking better of it, choosing instead to tug at the thin, silver piercing adorning his bottom lip. “We’re only teasing. She didn’t say anything like that, obviously.” You stare at him incredulously, arms crossing your chest. “Why don’t we give you a tour?” Though he’s the one who makes the offer, it sounds as though he’d rather be doing anything else.

“We’re not really assholes, promise,” Hawks jumps in, crossing his fingers over his heart in a show of good faith. “This one just gets too big headed around beautiful women,” he points at the heavily-inked man, who simply rolls his eyes at the accusation. You’d thought the blonde was…well, nothing more than the stereotype his hair color implied, but he’s sharper than he seems. It appears that unlike Dabi, who comes off curt and ungenuine, Hawks’ wit stems from his charm.

You can’t help but think of how the two of them compliment each other beautifully. That’s probably why their entire fanbase thinks they should be dating. With that ludicrous thought, your exuberance returns. After Hawks assures you they don’t have to be on set any time soon, you find yourself taking them up on their offer. They seem to be a handful, sure, but how long have you dreamt of spending uninterrupted time with your favorite members of the group? Besides, it’s only a tour. What could go wrong?

It’s apparent only five minutes into your time together that Hawks (despite his insistence you call him Kiego, it’s difficult after years of referring to him by the stage name) does not know the meaning of personal space. He spends the better part of the tour hooking an arm through yours, touching your hair, or pestering Dabi. While some may take this over-familiarity as a sign of disrespect, it feels more to you as though he’s simply comfortable in his skin.

Rude or not, his bold actions do nothing but spur your heart to beat out of your chest. Every time he guides you towards an attraction with a cheerful comment, you swear his fingers purposefully dash under your layers of clothing, brushing faintly at the skin of your waist in a way that makes your heart (among other parts) flutter.

“And as I’m sure you know, we’re filming this music video mid-tour,” his hand flits away as swiftly as it skimmed you, prolonging the torture of wondering whether his movements are purposeful or a figment of your twisted imagination. After showing you most of the fabricated scenery— and even the gorgeous, cherry-red convertible that was rented— for the video, you’ve arrived at the group’s infamous tour bus. You once read that most of their concerts end with the vehicle being mobbed by ruthless fans, one of the sole reasons you’ve never attended a show. Someone as busy as you doesn’t have time for all the horrid traffic the mobs cause. “Wanna see inside? It’s actually pretty roomy.”

You nod, eyes trailing towards Dabi, who’s busy stomping out the most recent cig he’d been puffing on. Aside from the occasional chuckle at your flustered blunders or annoyed curse thrown towards Hawks, the taller man had kept mostly to himself. His indifference confuses you, makes you wish you hadn’t reacted so bitterly to the loose smile and banter he offered you upon first meeting. At the same time, part of you is irritated by his standoffish personality. From what you’ve seen so far, his remarks serve the single purpose of humiliating others for his own amusement— a stark contrast to the misjudged softy he’s portrayed as on camera.

You’re guided onto the bus and Dabi follows, cursing under his breath at something or other. Sociable as he is, Hawks begins to chatter again, seeing no issue in being the center of your attention. You realize the space is much roomier than it seems. State of the art technology allows the bunk beds to fold back with a press of the button, leaving room for a decently sized couch. It’s also much cleaner than you would expect three young men living on the road to allow.

“And the lowest one was my bunk, just in case you’d like to see it again later,” he whispers the sentence as though it’s his best kept secret, wagging his thick brows exaggeratedly to key you in on his joke. “Hey, why are you laughing? I’m totally seriou–” The doors swivel open and your giggles are cut off by heavy footsteps and a booming voice,

“Oi! Keigo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You have to crane your neck to see the pillar of a man’s scrunched, stoic face. Endeavor, the pyrotechnic-obsessed “hype man” and third part of Suns of Icarus’s trio, stands a few feet from you, clearly exasperated by something his bandmate has done. Hawks must know precisely the reason for the bottle-redhead’s tone, because his face pales.

“Enji, we made a new friend!” He pulls you into his chest in an obvious attempt to shield himself from the giant, but your face heats at the close contact regardless.

“You were supposed to be on set for your solo scenes ten minutes ago,” he crosses his sculpted arms, “so let’s go.” The lively man is being whisked away by the larger one before he can utter a word of rebuttal. “Nice to meet you,” he calls casually to you over his shoulder.

“Dabi, keep (Y/N) company! I’ll be back!” Hawks shrieks with a dramatic flare. The man was truly born to be an entertainer.

An unbearable awkwardness envelops the two of you once you’re alone. Without his best friend around, Dabi drops any semblance of amiability, but it’s not as if he was trying very hard before. He plops down on the couch and pulls out his phone. You sit as far away from him as possible, but realize you don’t have your own device to keep you busy. After a few nervous minutes of twiddling your thumbs, you attempt to break the silence.

“So, Haw– Keigo and Endeavor use stage names, why don’t you?” You spout the first question that comes to mind, hoping it’ll spark an interesting conversation.

“Dabi is my stage name,” he answers curtly, without looking up from his cell.

“Oh...but– even your bandmates call you by it?”

“Yep. Don’t care for my real name,” his eye roll sends ice through your veins.

“Excuse me,” you snap, “have I done something to offend you?” The frustration in your tone wins you eye contact, at least.

“Nope.”

“Unbelievable….I’m going to need your publicist’s information.”

“Huh?”

“Well, anyone who can make you seem like the world’s most ‘misunderstood heartthrob’ on camera certainly deserves a pay raise, dontcha’ think?” His eyes drop to send a steely glare your way, but you’re too fed up to feel intimidated. You smirk at him, a single eyebrow raised in twisted satisfaction. There’s the bitchy self you know and love.

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” he sits up, “but I know everything I need to know about you.”

“Oh? Enlighten me then, sir.”

~~~

“You may think Keigo likes you, but he likes everyone. You’re, what, thinking you’re special because he’s throwing some attention your way?” Dabi inches closer. “Hoping he’ll get in your panties?”

“It’s not like that at all–”

“Don’t lie. The idea of being with someone you’ve idolized for years is thrilling, isn’t it?” The heat that rises on your cheeks is enough to confirm his suspicions. “He doesn’t like to see people for who they really are, but I know your type...just another tramp that’ll use him and move onto the next,” his smug expression returns after that little rant. Paired with the tattoos covering most of his face, he appears every bit as wicked as the skeleton his ink emulates— devilish, even.

“You’re wrong.” You can’t think of a proper argument when he’s so close to you, basically breathing down your neck.

“Am I?” His hand trails up your clothed thigh, and an unwelcome shiver crawls up your spine. “So you’re going to stop me when I do this, right?” Then, he kisses you.

It’s not at all soft, or compassionate, or anything resembling your naive teenage fantasies of the artist in the slightest. Rough, slender fingers wrap around your jaw and yank your lips to his. He doesn’t stop at a peck either, choosing instead to assail your mouth with all of his pent-up rage. The cool, hard metal of his lip ring strains against you, a pleasant contrast to the quick heat traveling the rest of your body. You want nothing more than to prove him wrong— to throw him off you, tell him to go straight to hell— but he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and- God, it just feels so good. Your mouth parts in a breathless moan and Dabi takes the reaction as an invitation to swipe his tongue against your teeth. With your bodies melding together violently, the make out feels simply a continuation of the intense argument you were having moments before.

Pulling you between his lap, he shifts you so that your back is flush across his chest. Nimble fingers make quick work of your clothes. You just barely raise your hips so that he’s able to take your pants off with ease, but you’re sure he notices the eager movement. When you’re left in nothing but your panties, you feel the rumbling of his solid body behind you as he laughs, the sound bitter and pleased all at once.

“Oh you really are a whore,” he chides. “Who’d you wear these for, hm?” He runs his fingers across the band of your red lace thong.

“Not you,” you bite back, feigning disinterest towards the dangerous position he has you in. The asshole’s not going to get to actually hear you admit defeat so easily. One of his hands kneads your chest and the other grabs your cheeks harshly, pushing them together so that you’re unable to speak.

“Not me? Take a good look at yourself, sweetheart.” He lifts your head upwards and your breath hitches; the entire ceiling of the bus is covered in a dark, reflective surface. “Who has you naked in their lap right now?” he whispers onto your neck, licking a long stripe upwards until his teeth graze your ear. You watch fervently as he strokes his digits across one of your perked nipples, tweaking the bud roughly. “Who are you being such a slut for?” He’s aware he won’t get a response because his left hand still grips your face, demanding you watch his every move.

Dabi then snakes his fingers down your midriff tortuously slowly, brushing lightly in a way he hasn’t touched you yet; as if the skin there is delicate, worthy of his valuable adoration. The ink traveling his arms makes him appear so ethereal, so sinister and compelling, that you can’t help but let out a muffled mewl. Once he reaches your panties, his fingers dart beneath the material and the tender moment is lost. An onslaught of pleasure wracks your body when he begins to draw quick circles on your clit. He lets go of your cheeks, now sore and reddened from both pressure and bliss.

“I’m going to ask one more fucking time,” his fingers glide against your soaked slit, “who are you being such a dirty slut for?” You contemplate not giving him the answer he’s looking for, and part of you is sinfully curious about what may happen if you enrage him further; however, that idea is put to rest immediately when he snaps his head up to look at you through the mirror, blue eyes pooling with lust and a hint of something animalistic. That stare, paired with the relentless strokes across your clit, provokes your moaned answer,

“F-for you, Dabi.” He uses his free hand to insert two, thick digits inside you.

“Say it again.”

“I’m- fuck– a s-slut for you,” you practically sob out. You press the back of your head into his shoulder harder, squeezing your eyes closed and biting your lip.

“Not going to keep your eyes open? Fine.” The fingers are removed from your clit and you’re about to let out an unsatisfied whine, only for him to grab the back of your head and mash your swollen lips to his once again. Then, after another brief caress of your abdomen, he’s back to touching your sensitive bud. All of your moans are silenced by his mouth, and you feel the vibrations of a low groan from his own throat when your ass grinds against his clothed member. When your stomach pulls taut you know you’re seconds away from feeling that all-encompassing pleasure, the tidings of an orgasm so close to washing over you.

“Oi, Matches! You didn’t throw her out did you?” Hearing Hawks’ voice call out from the front of the bus has you reeling your lips away from Dabi, and though he slows his movements, he doesn’t remove his fingers from your core. Rather than push you away, he takes the other hand off your clit to hold you tightly against him. “(Y/N)? Dab–”

For a few seconds, the only sound you can hear is your own heart beating out of your chest. Takami takes in the scene in front of him— your bare body splayed across his best friend in the lewdest of positions. You know your face is blooming in embarrassment as you wait for a reaction, for his face to drop in disappointment, anger, anything. Instead, he smirks.

“Starting without me? That’s no fair,” the golden-haired boy actually pouts, but there’s something deeper swimming in his eyes, something almost bloodthirsty. Though this is happening right in front of you, you can’t truly believe it. Dabi relieves the pressure of his arm from your chest.

“Look Kiego, the whore’s fucking drenched for us,” he lifts his fingers towards the beautiful man in front of you proudly, as if showing off a trophy or a new toy. Then he pops the damp fingers in his own mouth, humming at the taste of you. Hawks’ tongue dips out of his mouth, darting across his bottom lip.

“I want a taste,” he leers at your bright panties, now soaked through. You think you must have died and gone to heaven, what with the two Adonises staring at you as if you’re their last meal. Hawks kneels at the foot of the couch, brings his face right up to your navel, and licks a long, cold swipe. His digits toy at your waist like they were earlier, except this time the movements are decisive and fierce. Just as he’s about to tug your panties down and place his mouth where you want it most, Dabi seizes his jaw and pulls his partner into a long, sloppy kiss. You let out a sigh at the view and— teases that they are— the sound doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Is watching us turning you on?” Dabi taunts cruelly.

“Looks like she’s a bit of a pervert, hm?” Hawks retorts, sliding a finger across your clothed slit. The movement causes your entire body to quiver, your senses on high alert. Without another word, he leans down again, shifts your panties to the side, and takes your clit between his lips. The way he laps at you hungrily makes you believe your initial judgment of him was completely inaccurate, and when he inserts two lengthy digits inside you, the thought is confirmed. Hot, white pleasure consumes your body as your core clenches around his digits. He simply cocks an eyebrow at you and chuckles darkly, holding you tightly against him by your waist so that you’re unable to wriggle away. Gone is the lovable persona you were introduced to, replaced now by someone entirely foreign, deviously lewd.

��Fuck, Hawks,” you whimper, greedy for more.

“Thought I told you to call me Keigo,” he scolds beneath you, biting the inside of your thigh so that a sharp gasp leaves you.

“I-I’m sorry, K-Kei–” You’re cut off mid-moan when Dabi kisses you, wrapping one slender hand around your throat and squeezing. His other one threads through your hair and tugs harshly. A painful hiss leaves you but the sound only makes him pull harder, smirking against your lips.

It’s as though they’re competing for your attention. If one of the men evokes a sob or whimper, the other attempts to outdo him— and they have no regard for your body, becoming instead the battleground for their lascivious rivalry. You lose yourself in the intense sensations, unaware of time or its passing, instead focusing solely on the coil tightening in your abdomen. Every gasp, every moan, only pushes them further, and soon your legs are shaking as you feel yourself nearing the delicious edge.

Just as you’re about to let go, allow yourself the mind-numbing relief of an orgasm, Kiego withdraws his fingers. Rubbing your bruised thighs together is a desperate attempt at friction, but the momentum is completely lost. Your core clenches around nothing, and you cry out, hopelessly bitter at the emptiness between your legs.

“Sorry, princess,” his hair is sticking up, golden locks tousled from the harsh grip of your fingers. And yet he still looks perfect. He wipes your juices off his chin with a thumb, “but that’s for starting without me.” Despite the apology, he sounds absolutely delighted at your loss. You whine again, hoping it’ll change his mind. “What do you think, Dabi? Should we let her cum?”

Hearing his name, the tattooed man takes his attention away from your chest and the onslaught of purple marks his lips’ were just peppering on your throat.

“I don’t think so,” he tweaks at one of your nipples, eliciting a soft groan from you. “I want the bitch begging for it.” Dabi pushes you away from him and stands to unbuckle his belt. “Besides, don’t think she’s done enough to earn it.” You should be outraged at the way they decide your fate as if you’re not even present, but in reality it only thrills you, your clit throbbing at the lack of control.

“You’re right,” your idol sneers, canines bared and gleaming as he unzips his own pants, “and I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me.”

They switch places, shifting you so that your breasts are pinned against the couch between Kiego’s legs. Dabi grinds his hips against your clothed center, and you mewl at the long-awaited friction, hard member straining against his briefs.

“Get to work, princess,” Kiego calls to you, boxers down to his knees. You can only balk at the sight in front of you. His cock is thick and long, essentially everything you could’ve ever hoped for, but that’s not it.

Rather, it’s the shiny, silver ball pierced through the shaft and poking out from the top of his head that stops you dead in your tracks. He notices your eyes widen at it, but only snorts, wrapping your hair around his hand and yanking you roughly towards him.

“Oh, that little thing?” Now he’s shoving you against his length, using your face as nothing more than a means for friction. “Just a drunken dare from Matches.” The nickname provokes the other man into leaving a stinging slap against your behind. And just like that, the angered man drives himself into your cunt.

“I told you,” slap, “not to,” slap, “call me that.” With each thrust into you, Dabi releases an onslaught of pent-up anger onto your rear, the biting pain causing you to cry out around Kiego’s member.

“Yeah sweetheart, just like that,” he leans his head back against the couch with a deep groan. “Such a pretty little whore, choking on my cock.” One of his free fingers shoots out to wipe at your tears, hand moving ever-so-lightly to cradle your jaw. The gesture might have been sweet if his other hand wasn’t forcing you down further to swallow him whole.

“Mmmph–” you scrape carelessly at Kiego’s thighs in an attempt to secure yourself, moans coming out garbled with his cock down your throat.

“Not done with you yet, slut” Dabi still pounds into you relentlessly. You’re overwhelmed with the feeling of being stuffed from both ends, knees on the verge of giving out until he fastens his hands around your thighs, pulling you into him with even harder plunges. “Fucking take it.” Something hard and cold grinds inside you, and you’re acutely aware of the ridged piercings now pressing against that perfect, spongy spot in your heat.

When he reaches an arm around to rub furiously at your clit, you’re sobbing. Kiego’s deep, golden eyes watching you, Dabi’s unrelenting fingers and thrusts, it’s all too much.

And then you’re finally letting go. Legs shaking, mind wracked with white as you clench your eyes shut. Your mouth moves away from Kiego’s shaft, only concerned with riding out your high. The tattooed man behind you doesn’t stop his movements either, still pressed deep inside you until your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you’re tapping furiously at his waist. Kiego smiles, taking himself in his hand and slapping his cock against your cheek while he strokes himself.

“That’s it, baby,” he smooths your hair back, grunting. “You look so pretty when you cum.” He pumps himself a few more times before he finishes, sticky liquid spurting across your lips and into your hair. You reach around to grab at Dabi’s waist again, willing him to stop. He removes himself from inside of you only to flip you around and your cunt clenches at the feeling of emptiness.

Pulling you into a long, winded kiss, he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip to taste Kiego’s release. Then he’s pushing you to your knees once more, hands threading through your hair roughly.

“Suck,” he scowls down at you. Though you’re breathless, still reeling from your orgasm, the simple command spewed at you has your lips wrapped around him in a second.

He isn’t as girthy as Kiego, but just as long. A trail of piercings go down his length, and your tongue brushes against the cool metal while you wrap your fingers around the area you can’t reach. You stare up at him through thick lashes, piercing blue eyes ogling you as you take him further in. His hand is still perched on your head, but he makes no movement to push you down— instead, basking in your slow seduction.

You’re sure you look a mess, dried mascara down your cheeks and still covered in Kiego’s cum, but Dabi only revels in the power he has over you, positively thrilled at the way you no longer fight for dominance. He breaks eye contact only when the blonder man tugs him into a kiss, deep and passionate, and the sight only urges you to swallow him deeper.

“I like her with her mouth so full,” Kiego whispers against Dabi’s lips.

“Just as long as the bitch isn’t speaking,” the other man groans, rutting into your mouth so that you know he’s close.

Soon he’s pulling out of you to pump his shaft, your mouth wide open so that the head of his cock brushes against your tongue. Kiego reaches down to move Dabi’s hand, grabbing at his partner’s length so he can stroke it himself. It doesn’t take long after that for the brooding man to cum, head thrown back in a loud grunt while the tantalizing male next to him coaxes him through the orgasm. Kiego angles him so that his hot, white liquid gushes onto both your face and tongue; you suck at Dabi’s head until he forcibly pushes you off him.

“Fuck,” he sighs, running a hand through his sweaty locks. “Knew you were good for something.” With that final statement, he turns away from you, pulling his pants back on and returning to his spot on the couch as though he wants nothing more to do with you.

Kiego walks away as well, and you’re sure you’re about to be kicked out now that they’ve had their way with you. A part of you is angered, but a larger part is still processing what just happened, savoring the earth-shattering orgasm the pair blessed you with.

You look for your discarded clothing, trying to compose yourself so you’re able to get out of their way as quickly as possible. Kiego walks back into the common area, wet rag in hand. He doesn’t speak until he pushes you into the couch, rubbing the clean towel over your face softly.

“So, you’re coming to our concert next week, right?”

---------------

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@mindninjax @rat-suki @bakatenshii @yukiimanic @theygottheircages @lookslikeleese

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camilliar · 3 years

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recs for someone new to omgcp

[February 2021.]

Reading, or not reading, OMGCP fics has come up in a couple of conversations I’ve had recently with artists newish to the fandom (ie. @jovishark; @decafffff), who are making OMGCP art (!!!) but haven’t started exploring fic -- but maybe want to? Which of course reminded me that I’ve never bothered to make an actual, concrete recs list for this fandom. So, I mean. Here is one.

The approach is, what do I think about when I think about OMGCP fanfic? What comes to mind, what stands out to me? I have excluded some very popular fics. Some of these I just don’t think are very good, and others I do think are good, and/or I enjoy them, but I don’t see why you’d need me, specifically, to recommend them. I am thinking of a story like maybe i’m waking up, which I discuss below because I link to a podfic of it. It has a lot of merits, to be sure, but it’s the second-most-read fic in this fandom by hits, and it’s got thousands of comments, and it’s by an author whose work is relatively widely praised and circulated. I am not sure what telling you more about this fic will add to the conversation; if you want to find and read it, you inevitably will. I’m happy to, say, answer asks about these kinds of fics, or talk more generally about them via DM or whatever. Feel free.

Also, I don’t think there’s a point to pretending to be objective about fanfic; this list has a perspective and that perspective is mine. In this fandom I largely read stories that navigate the tension around Jack, Bitty, and Parse, in various permutations. This is not to say that I’ve never read fic about the frogs, or that I have no interest at all in other pairings, but I am by no means an expert on Dex/Nursey and can really only speak to the one fic about them that sticks out to me because it goes beyond being merely Dex/Nursey and does something else. This is just to say that I am sure there are great and interesting fics about other things and ideas--but I’m not the person to hear about those from.

Likewise, I’m not super interested in stories that really reproduce that which is already in OMGCP. I like Zimbits--albeit maybe not in the ways or for the reasons most fans would--but I do not really need to see endless iterations of the same story about them falling in love and being cute together. I don’t think these stories are bad or they shouldn’t exist or that they have no merit by default. Still, I don’t need fanfic to give me more OMGCP. I need fanfic to complicate, to comment on, and to transform OMGCP. Many people don’t work like this! Totally okay! But I can’t rec you fics that do that.

What I have noticed, however, is that over time there appears to have been a shift in how people do write fic for this fandom. (Other than, you know, increases and decreases in activity pending the status of the comic, pairings going in and out of vogue, and so on.) Early on, say during Y1 and Y2, the comic was about the group of friends having a cool time at college together; about whether the burgeoning attraction between Jack and Bitty would manifest and, if so, how; and, especially, Jack’s past coming into fuller view for Bitty and how it would have to be dealt with in order for a relationship between them to work. YMMV on how great the comic executed there, but as Y3 went on these themes increasingly disappeared from the story. I think this means a lot of fic written over 2015-2016 or 2017 has one kind of tone, and was written mostly around these questions; after that, it feels like a new crop of writers and a new crop of ideas started circulating, that is, either embracing Jack and Bitty’s canon relationship and accepting its relative straightforwardness in text--or deconstructing it, imagining what readers aren’t seeing, or how problems not dealt with in the comic would manifest later. People who have read my fic know which of these I’m mainly interested in exploring.

All of which is to say, looking at what I’m reccing here, when the fics were posted or when I first read them probably has a lot to do with why they stick out to me so much. Because there’s no real culture of fanfic criticism--and I mean that in the positivist sense of broad evaluation not explicitly for fault and merit but rather, for context--I think it’s really hard to keep this in mind. But I’m obnoxious and I can’t just be easy about things.

Fic recs

In alphabetical order, somewhat unsorted; if a stand-alone fic has a summary I’ve included it, but in other cases I’ve recced a couple of conceptually related fics or series, which I’ve tried to just describe or explain as opposed to copying the summary off AO3.

There are so many more fanfics I think are great and worth reading! In an ideal world I’d come back and add more later, or create a secondary list that’s more along the lines of “if you like this, read these,” or whatever. But, being realistic, this is a starter kit. I’m open to talking about fanfic.

- - - - - - - - - - -

7-0-2 by Idday; Friends in Low Places and Sorry for the Blood in Your Mouth; I Wish it was Mine by blue_rocket_frost | I’m not sure it would be correct to say that I don’t like Parse/Tater, or that I’m not interested in Parse/Tater. I’m not interested in Patater a priori; I think it could be interesting, with teeth. These fics stick out to me when I think about this pairing, because they feel different. Accusations of a preference for just linking any two white men who happen to be hanging around have validity, but because of what hockey is and how it works and who’s hanging around it, it’s not exactly a leap to imagine what kind of gritty spark the friction between two closeted NHL players would create. A little violence in your sex? A little sex in your violence.

A Sight Worth Seeing by sadtomato | A four-fic Jack/Bitty/Shitty/Lardo explicit BDSM series. Either you want that or you don’t. It’s nothing hardcore, and not properly a four-way, really; more properly a kind of voyeuristic round-robin. There’s a more open and egalitarian view of sex here than I really get from the characters in the back end of the comic. It’s an expansive, propulsive view of sex and relationships that’s really nice to see. I love Lardo's detached coolness, and Bitty as a smooth operator; if you’re looking for some kind of Dom/sub dynamics world, this really isn’t it, but it’s a lively exploration into the sexual dynamics in a group of friends that’s super close to the good-times vibe you get from Haus scenes in the first couple years of extras.

call me son (one more time) by Summerfrost, Verbyna, and blithelybonny | This is a series, incomplete, and you will love it or be massively put off by it. I mean that as a compliment. I love it. The premise is, Bob Zimmermann and Kent Parson have been having sex since Kent was, like, 19. Everyone in this story has been chewed up: by themselves, by each other, by hockey. Plainly, this is a pretty bleak view of what OMGCP, as a story, is supposedly offering. If you want fic that is dark and glamorous, treading the toxic melange of substance abuse, sex-as-sublimation, and so much money you can’t possibly throw all of it away without trying, this series has that sick-inducing shimmer to it. But, again, its strength is its examination of Kent Parson, textually and meta-textually, as someone to be projected onto. Bob, Alicia, Jack, and Bitty all impute certain feelings of their own onto him, displacing their own issues to a character who’s centralized in every fic but defies neat or total comprehension. Some critiques I’ve read of this series feel it’s too dark, and I’ve also seen it argued on FFA that an overwhelming amount of praise heaped onto these stories has made it tough for other writers to make headway in writing Bob/Kent fic. But I’m also not sure you could engage with Bob/Kent fic without going down this road at some point? I’m sure there are ways to scale it back, but ultimately it’s a story about how hockey’s violent, homophobic, old-guard gatekeeping has continued to set the terms for a younger and ostensibly less toxic culture. I fully embrace PWP fics that tread on the power dynamic without fully excavating it, but buried within any PWP is the fact that a 53-year-old man is ensnaring a 19-year-old, no matter how much the latter is, realistically, into it, and legally empowered to consent. Not to mention the dynamics of it being a 53-year-old man who is the father of the 19-year-old’s ex-boyfriend, and a 53-year-old man who is an eminence grise in the field the 19-year-old is trying to make a career in The sexual element--the vaguely incestuous nature of it--is making textual the subtext of how hockey works, actually: objectification of teenage bodies as older men’s capital.

Coach Z by thistidalwave | Just before the 2009 NHL Entry Draft, tp prospect Jack Zimmermann overdoses on his anxiety medication and is admitted to rehab. His future turns from a clear-cut road to the top into an uncertain path filled with therapy appointments, ignored text messages, a group of boys who aren't there to teach him a lesson about himself, and, of course, hockey. | I keep reccing this fic because it has 360 comments on AO3 but nobody, as far as I can tell, has ever read it; it never appears on rec lists. This isn’t the kind of fanfic I usually go in for, but I can’t help being charmed by it. This is a character study in the truest sense, a kind of Mighty Ducks-but-better view on what Jack’s time coaching peewee hockey might have been like. I have no interest in kids and my own aesthetic is maybe a little darker than this, but I admire this story because it injects vibrancy into a period of Jack’s life that OMGCP has left largely unexplored, and so has the fandom. We know nothing about what made Jack want to go to college, nothing about how he spent his days in between juniors and Samwell. It posits a very sympathetic and patient Jack/Parse dynamic, showcasing the exact kind of ragged teenage push-and-pull that would have led to the circumstances we see in Parse I-III. The outside perspective Jack needs is largely present in an OFC who’s not a love interest. Super unique, somehow both engrossing and low-key.

#dirtbags by angularmomentum | A series that is a Kent Parson/Claude Giroux fuckfest with feelings. I’ve long suspected that Parse is popular in part because he is the character who most easily elides OMGCP with the actual NHL, or rather, NHL fandom; I think he made it appealing to write OMGCP fics where the NHL is a factor. Case in point, this series, which is basically “what if Kent Parson was a real hockey player and therefore part of NHL RPS”? I have only read some NHL RPS, so I’m not the person to assess accuracy, but what I do know is superstar IRL hockey players take turns here as the caricature fanfic versions of themselves, and since Kent Parson is already that, it’s great how seamlessly he integrates into their social fabric. Rambunctious energy peppered with regret and loss, but ultimately this series is farcical, and it doesn’t take its sentimental ending too seriously--which, good.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible | 5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth. | As a fic format, 5+1 doesn’t usually work for me, but this one isn’t just front-loaded with five too-knowing vignettes; it then wraps up by using its +1 better than you might expect. Sometimes I talk about economy of fic, and this one exemplifies it. A zero-waste fic.

go ahead and move along by originally | "Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again. Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop. | Kent Parson is trapped in a Groundhog Day scenario on the day of Epikegster. I’m sure you can imagine, just from that, what happens. And yet I think this fic is super entertaining, reserving some key surprises. What this story is doing is something a lot, and perhaps even the majority, of great Jack/Parse fic wants to do: digging into the question of just why this can’t work in comic canon. Most often this is approached from the past, by writing teenage Jack/Parse deep-dives that examine their lives mid-juniors, or by writing AUs where enough circumstances are shifted that it does work, or via future fics that posit enough growth has happened, and enough things have changed. But this fic makes Parse live the same bad day again and again, testing multiple theories about just how dependent on circumstance and incident real life actually is. Another day, another tone, 10 minutes sooner, not at all--you just can’t know why it didn’t work until you exhaust every possible variable. I worry that this rec has sucked the life out of the story, though--it’s so fun!

I Saw a Life and Strange Lovers by @bluegrasshole | Most AUs in this fandom seem to retell the story in a new setting or with some big detail change, following OMGCP’s rhythm beat-for-beat. I think of this as, “It’s the plot of Check, Please, but” -- they’re doing high school football? They’re acrobats? They’re a/b/o? They’re in a DIY punk band? And so on. These two stories are not that! They’re both 1950s AUs, each deeply felt, and yet hugely different from each other. I Saw a Life is about displacement and fragmentation, two sides of a similar but incongruent social critique; Strange Lovers is a finely wrought social drama about coal mining in Nova Scotia in the 1950s, centered around historical events. I suppose a theme on this rec list is something like, “I don’t even like this, but” -- yes, okay, I don’t even like Dex/Nursey, but--! This fic is so overwhelmingly complete, the AU laid out so carefully that the story breathes with all the background details informing the writing that aren’t actually, in the story; you just know they’re below the surface. (With the exception of one investigation of Jack’s character in a short, separate fic.) I Saw a Life, meanwhile, really tests the limits of the notion that Jack and Bitty are soulmates--not by calling it into question but by asking, rather innovatively, how the setting and place of the comic itself activates that.

Les Hivers de mon enfance by staranise | What do you do when hockey is the language of prayer for your soul, and also the toxic thing that almost killed you? 2009: Jack Zimmermann takes a mental health year. God knows he needs it. | Here’s a fic by someone who’s no longer around so much, but she felt ubiquitous in 2016-2019 OMGCP fandom. Before any of that, though, she wrote this one lovely fic about Jack’s pre-Samwell recovery. The author is Canadian and really irritated by hockey culture, and I think this fic benefits greatly because she is clear-eyed about Jack’s being caught in an exploitative system; it’s hockey he’s in recovery for, in a way. There’s an epistolary element that works for me, too. I read this early on in my time in OMGCP fandom and it really stuck with me.

Lysistrata? I Hardly Know Her! (by which I mean everything) by @tomatowrites | It feels somehow like cheating to recommend OMGCP fanfics by my OMGCP BFF with whom I make an OMGCP podcast where we talk about OMGCP. You know the fics I really want to rec, like truly the ones that speak to some kind of shared depravity, are the ones where Jack is miserably mpreg for the second time and accidentally lets his kid see Kent Parson’s Long John Silver’s shrimp scampi promo spot, which obviously would get twisted into a self-hating three-way. How many times do I have to rec this fic? As many as I need to, is my feeling. If you don’t know, Long John Silver’s is an American fast-food chain that sells, like, fried pollock sandwiches; it is nautical-themed; I have never eaten there; I don’t know where there is one; I don’t eat fried fish. (Shrimp, on the other hand?) All of which is to say that it takes a real genius to investigate a premise that far out. And while a lot of people almost certainly will start reading this humanity’s depths-themed sex scene and back the fuck out, readers with refined taste will note that Kent, the point-of-view character, is right there with you, despairing that he can’t help himself. And so long as you’re in that story collection, honestly, you’ll love petite gems like Jack is transmasc, Jack and Shitty play hockey in 18th-century England, and oh, right, he’s from Georgia. Tomato holds the distinction of being probably the gamest author I know in this fandom, just really like fearless in her pursuit of any range of concept she’s pushed to. (I can push her to?) See, for example, a sublime bandom AU; Bitty is cancelled for buying a maybe-unethically exported Roman fragment of a youth’s torso; or, god, the masterwork that is this future fic series where Jack keeps relapsing and Bitty exiles him to their guesthouse. Do I think you need to read a fic where Bitty is snide about the teen prostitute whose baby they’re adopting? Yes, I mean, he would be snide, don’t tell me he wouldn’t. I could go on, but my main thing here is, if I have to pick just one, I’m going to pick this Lysistrata fic. The premise, literally, is that Bitty reads the Lysistrata and it gives him ideas. Like most of Tomato’s OMGCP fic, it’s a stripping away of the comic’s polite fiction that Jack and Bitty could possibly attain the ideal it reaches in the comic without some kind of messy, efflusive breakdown. Life is like that, you see! Tricky. Like a lot of people, although it’s tough to say precisely how many, I have always intuited that maybe Bitty is kind of a natural top? But obviously when you meet him, as a literal virgin, it’s hard to see how he’d go from zero to self-actualization so neatly. This fic floats a theory, and it has a fun little side plot for Whiskey, something I never thought about or needed before Tomato built it out herein. In conclusion, BONUS: Dex’s gay lobster novel.

only fools rush in and the light of all lights by decinq | This person wrote of the nature of the wound, one of the early, formative Jack/Bitty fics that was oft-recced when I was getting into the fandom in 2016. It forms part of a larger series that deals deeply with how Jack has been shaped by his struggles (? I hate this word) with homophobia and his own mental health. It’s a picture of the character as you might have imagined him much earlier in the comic’s run. The formatting is atrocious and he author’s flair is what Tomato would call “AO3 house style.” It’s a voice that works great for her writing. I think it’s at its best in these shorter fics; the former is about Parse and Shitty stumbling into a relationship almost accidentally; the latter, an eerie PBJ vampire fic. I had begun writing a fic where Parse is a vampire early on in this fandom, only to read this and immediately quit, because you only need one, and this one’s all I need. The Parse/Shitty rare pair fic shares its exuberance with hockey RPS when it’s good: here’s how fun it can be when you’re young, rich, and jocular. And I don’t even like accidental marriage AUs, they’re usually boring, so that says a lot. By all means, read the wound fic; read the entire series. But these are highly unusual.

OVERDOSE and Oomph and a little spin-o-rama by jedusaur | None of these are long, or plotty, and they’re all a little experimental. OVERDOSE is an AU set in a world where you know how you’ll die, but no details; Oomph, a little fic where Jack hears hockey pucks talking to him. This is the kind of stuff I used to think I’d find in fandom forever, coming out of Lotrips lurking in the 2000s: short, zany bursts of energy that surprise and delight. a little spin-o-rama peers at Kent’s character through the grim reality of being the hypertalented superstar stuck on a dead-last team. All three are sparse and stylish in a way that’s really smart, practically economical.

Sowing Season by @agrossunderstatement | Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. Kent Parson's life, from the Q, through his early years with the Aces, to Jack's senior year. Canon divergent. A story of love, loss, moving on, regressing, hockey, and found families of all kinds. | Effectively a novel, digging into Kent’s personal history, mostly concerning his life in juniors but expanding into his present, overlapping with the plot of OMGCP. I think there is room enough for endless speculations on what went down pre-canon; this one offers a fuller life for Kent than nearly any others, digging into him as a whole person rather than as a satellite to Jack or the plot of the comic. Which isn’t to say that the Kent/Jack stuff isn’t dealt with here; it explicitly is. But the fact of Kent Parson’s life, if we can begin to imagine it beyond mere text, would exist before, after, and alongside Jack; he gets to juniors without Jack, presumably, and he is the captain of a hockey team without Jack, and Pinkerton lays the foundation of Parse’s character within a junior hockey that Jack also inhabits, more so that Parse existing for Jack, so to speak. And I’m not implying this latter tactic is wrong; I have certainly employed it, and others have employed it to great impact and effect. But, still, the title of this series tells you what you ought to know: Kent and his story are the potentiality of OMGCP, up to a point; seeds being planted. Young hockey players, similarly. The question implied there is, what will be reaped? And the answer to the latter, in a sense, that reaping is a sort of violence. Which makes this series sound pretty heavy, but it’s not -- more like, realistic.

(tell everyone) you were a good wife by @queerofcups | The biggest problem with pretending that he doesn’t know that Kent Parson is fucking his husband is that Jack can’t tell Kent how grateful he is. | The ne plus ultra of PBJ triangulation; I’ve been squealing to the writer about how good it is since August, begging for behind-the-scenes insights, and I’d only do that if I really meant it. The precarious social fabric stretched across these three chapters is fraying before the reader’s eyes. The details are delicious, and I don’t want to spoil them, but they sing in chorus with the plot. My favorite OMGCP fics, honestly, remove the romance narrative guardrails that keep things in the comic itself humming along. I think Dann’s take is to ask who in this comic has power and what they would end up doing with it. (Or not doing, from another angle.) At one point, early on in its telling, OMGCP looked like it was going to be a story dealing with the compounded traumas of hockey’s discontents. Then, of course, it wasn’t. This is a fic that steps back and asks what the fallout of that oversight would be. But that’s just the moldering core of this fanfic; it’s actually embroidered, like I said, with glittering detail. The color of the suit Bitty wears to his wedding is burned into my brain. The gray manicure of a woman Jack knows. The ingredients in a cake. This is one of those fics I still haven’t reviewed because the thought of stacking everything I could say about it into mere AO3 comments is inadequate.

when you’re ready by megancrtr | The Aces’ director of communications gets the call at 3:13 a.m. Jack Zimmermann has withdrawn from the draft. | “What happened at the draft” is so mythological it gets asked in the comic proper, and I’ve never counted how many fics attempt to answer this question--from Kent’s point of view, even--but it’s gotta be, oh, hundreds. This story replays the situation from the perspective of an Aces staffer who just wants to do her job, and gets at the jarring discordance between the plot of OMGCP in its quest for social justice and the business of actual hockey. Important context is that this story was written around the time the comic was playing out the end of Y3 and start of Y4, and Bitty pointedly asked Jack the question, “why can’t we?” This story reframes the question as literal, rather than rhetorical. A sterling example of fanfic being a gloss on its source.

BONUS, podfics

hockeyed up | There are many things on Jack's mind. Namely: hockey, hockey, Bitty, hockey, anxiety, hockey, hockey, anxiety, Bitty, hockey, hockey, anxiety, and hockey. | A fic read aloud by its French-Canadian author. Also a relatively early OMGCP fanfic; composed while the first semester of Y2 was posting, the story suggests a version of OMGCP that was in some ways more and in other ways less complex than what it would turn into not long after. The real power of this podfic, however, is that it’s read by the writer, so you can hear the intended emphasis in every line. Also, because she’s French-Canadian, Sophie’s intonation is what I picture when I read or write dialogue for Jack.

maybe i’m waking up | It’s almost funny. All he ever wanted was to play hockey, to play in the NHL, to win the Cup. This—Samwell, the team, the Haus—was supposed to be just a detour, but now it feels more like a destination he failed to realize he’s already reached.(Or: Jack signs with the Falconers, graduates, and leaves. It's the hardest thing he's ever done. What comes after is even harder.) | Don’t get too excited; this isn’t finished. A podfic of probably the best-known, most-recced fic in OMGCP fandom. Striking for its use of metatext woven into the story, this is one of several early longform Jack/Bitty fics that posits that maybe Jack has a lot more development to undergo before he can really, truly, be okay--or be okay enough to be with Bitty? To be honest, this story strikes me now as too long, but the parts in it that work are effective beyond that which fanfic demands. Meanwhile, this audio version only covers six chapters, but it’s so slick, so well-realized, so true to the story. Podfic as art.

my own dear friends | Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.) | There’s previous little Jack/Shitty in this fandom and a lot less quality BDSM,

the city’s ours until the fall | Kent has been, historically, good at this—forgetting about things until suddenly he doesn’t, and then it’s like the scar has never been there in the first place, just the wound. (Or: Kent Parson lets himself be happy, after all this time.) | I’ve never read this fic and I never will. I cannot imagine how, no matter how good it is, it could compare to the version that lives in my head, with Kent’s voice so totally realized. Vocal fry and pathos, a languid energy that I still think about when I think about Parse.

the model home | It’s going to be better, and that’s great, but sometimes Jack thinks, why can’t it be good right now? | j/k j/k, this is a self-reminder to finally one day review this.

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hteragram-x · 4 years

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Remus Sanders is an artist HCs

I think that there are too many people who sleep on the fact that Remus is an artist. I mean… sure… his creativity is probably mostly spent on creating disturbing thoughts and coming up with lewd jokes. But I refuse to believe that he does not make art just for the cool aesthetic or to put his ideas into a tangible object (or performance). I’ve seen more stories where Virgil was an artist for some reason... and Remus wasn’t even if he’s a literal embodiment of Creativity. Gotta fix it.

We know that Roman is an excellent singer and actor. He can draw (Mona Lisa) and write (gift for Logan; songs; poetry) as well. But he couldn’t really play an instrument (see: Moving On) and he mentioned that Thomas probably shouldn’t show his dancing skills, so maybe he’s not the best at that too. He’s good at costume design and tried interior design as well. The list goes on. He clearly has his strengths and weaknesses in this department.

So what about his brother? (get ready for that Creativitwins content… and maybe some hints at Intrulogical and Dukeceit too)

...

1. Remus is great at playing instruments. He can play almost everything he tries if you give him a few minutes to check how it works. But being his chaotic self he most often plays instruments that are super loud and annoying.

2. When no one listens he sometimes tries instruments that are more soft and romantic, but you’ll lost your ears and eyes if you ever discover it. Deceit once did. He promised to not tell anyone, but he still remembers the sight of Remus with a silver harp, singing some angsty ballad like a dramatic bastard he is.

3. He likes to make his own instruments too. From everything. And I mean everything. Which includes vegetables, bones, soil, parts of furniture or dirty laundry. Don’t ask.

4. He’s good at singing, but prefers playing.

5. So he often plays for Roman and since they both enjoy coming up with their own songs they regularly perform something one of them wrote.

6. They sometimes try rap battles, so Roman can practice for his eventual rematch with Logan, but rapping is really not their style. And most often than not they end up laughing too much to perform and just add as much nonsense and disgusting jokes to the lyrics as possible.

7. And maybe when Thomas was younger they had a very “hardcore” band called: The Empire Has Fallen. And maybe they sang about not being loved and appreciated. So what? None of our business.

8. Remus is great at sewing (yes, sometimes it means visiting the sewers). And costume design (have u seen his clothes?!). At first most of his drawings were inspired by Roman’s – he just wanted to do something that was a complete opposite. But later he gave himself more creative freedom.

9. Remus designed and made Janus’ costume. I mean… the snake boy is fashionable and all. But it doesn’t mean he can create something on his own. He just said “black and yellow… and I want a hat” and Remus was like: “ALREADY ON IT!” (at first he gave him a bee costume with a top hat as a joke).

10. He’s not great at interior design, because he values the creepy aesthetic over comfort and practicality. So his room was mostly created by Roman who kept the colour scheme and the atmosphere of a damp and weirdly luxurious basement, but added a lot of pillows and greenish lamps in various corners. (There was a long argument about keeping the artistic bloodstains on the walls.)

---

11. He’s excellent with make-up. But he does not try too hard while doing his own, because he likes to look like he has not slept for two weeks.

12. He can dance, but doesn’t do that often. Especially since part of his charm is being intentionally ungraceful and positioning his limbs at weird angles. However, he dances with Roman or Janus if they want to. (With Roman it often ends in a playful fight; with Janus dancing can turn into a semi-romantic, passionate performance to some villain songs.)

13. He’s just as good at drawing as Roman, but obviously their inspirations are very different. Remus most often draws people… with way too many details and a lot of attention to anatomical correctness. You know exactly what he draws. I’m not gonna say it.

14. Logan taught Remus a lot about anatomy of both humans and animals so he can draw as realisticaly as possible. And if they dissected a body in the basement to be extra sure how the liver looks that’s also none of our business.

15. When they were kids Patton promised he will put his drawing on the fridge next to Roman’s if he promises to not draw blood and corpses. Initially he drew some disturbing pictures of naked people to mess with the rest of the sides, but only Logan could look at them without being too grossed out. And since Remus really wanted some validation, he showed Patton his designs of new weapons and pictures of deep-sea creatures (some real, some fictional). A few of them were on the fridge for so long that the ink has slightly faded.

16. The pictures of sea creatures were partially responsible for Logan’s fear of the bottom of the ocean. But it’s a phobia fuelled by curiosity and scientific fascination so he does not complain and often complements the most terrifying designs.

17. His weirdest creative outlet is creating new animals. (Roman’s manticore-chimera was heavily inspired by Remus’ mush-ups). And maybe he sometimes invites a certain local nerd to admire his work and help him with coming up with Latin-based names for his dear abominations. And maybe they enjoy adding antlers to fish a little bit too much. And then giggling about it. Stop judging. Gosh…

18. Remus is unfamiliar with the term minimalism. Or rather he pretends it does not exist. With his ideas the concept of “less is more” will never apply.

19. He loves sculpting. He’s not great with it, but you can make a big mess with clay, so he finds it relaxing. Sewing is also relaxing, but in a more “I’m already calm so let’s do something tame” sort of way. Sculpting is better to vent. Ya know… create a face out of clay and then punch it real hard. Or smash a block of granite with a mace and see what interesting shapes you end up with.

20. The art he’s most embarrassed with (if he’s capable of such a feeling at all) is his doodles. He thinks they’re too soft and cute. But he draws them anyway, because sometimes he’s just tired, but still needs to do something with fidgeting hands and all the ideas buzzing in his head like a swarm of hornets.

...

More to be added. I myself am full ideas.

[I did part 2. It’s HERE, if you’re interested.]

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misterbitches · 3 years

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hi! this is long as shit i’m sorry. i hope it makes sense. i ahve adhd and like 5 million learning disorders so this is just word vomit cos there’s so many words in my brain. my b.

i’ve had such a tough day so thank you for replying and sharing! @yeedak

i was thinking about what i wrote and i meant to clarify that as well. some cases are fine for both parties and it’s not like you weren’t consenting and it seems like you were happy! same with my friend who was dating a 20 yr old. if they’re happy you know i’ll clown on ‘em but yea. so for anyone that sees these posts your relationship with your partner who is older or whatever. i’m some dumb girl on the internet okay. ill side eye older ppl tho

i think a lot of people feel the same way you do now (me included.) it feels really good at the time but alter we can see the dynamics playing out. i’m 29 now and i think aging is just such a huge process. it’s wild how you at 31 are a totally different person, right?

and the US racism is probably some of the worst ever in its iteration because of slavery which started from europe etc but USA is so fucking unique bc of columbus bringing slaves here and displacing indigenous peoples or hispanola and because america is so influential the way it views race, particularly with black people as objects, has so deeply permeated into the current historical psyche globally. it’s fascinating to track how necessary anti blackness is to the flourishing of america but also the world at this point. also want to point out how fuckign scary sinophobia is here especially for covid. one is a straight historical line (black ppl + the US) and the other had to be manufactured and to continue to exploit the non-white americans and keep antiblackness in tact.i could go on about this all day. the pain of this place is immense.yet as bad as it is here, this is still the only place i truly feel safe as a black person. because of the unique experience we have in america and through the diaspora especially because we are veyr much ocncentrated here. it would be nice to like move to norway and have some alleviation financially or get free healthcare it’s just not feasible if no one looks like me. it’s fucking tough.

i hope you don’t hate it here though and people treat you with respect. but as you know being a woman and jewish and an immigrant....shit is tough. the USA is a hellhole. :( america is so deeply tainted and desperately bad because it was founded on strife and blood and there’s no way to reverse that and what this country did in turn when it gained enough power and could capitalize off of the colonial forefathers. this is why we hsould all luv revolution!!!

HOWMEVERRRR

boy oh boy oh BOY OH BOYYYYYYYY. well wlecome to the world of BL lmao especially as an adult with some obviously deep perspective just given your background. it is a fucking mess and it’s a hard mess to like but it pulls you in. i approach it like i do with soap operas since these are essentially telenovelas, you know? just like the drama at a billion. but the tricky part of that is like....what parts of it do we understand for critiquing? because so many of the shows are so bad at being like good pieces of things to look at just production wise and story wise. but i feel like these shows ask us to take them seriously, so why shouldn’t we take the content seriously? and this is being primarily peddled to young girls.

i bring this up often but i read this thing about yaoi and the interest younger women/girls have in BL and its fascination with pederasty essentially. this component i think is key when we talk about who gets affected by these things the most. society in general is bad 4 girls bla bla we know lmao but in “more sexually conservative” societies it may be harder for these girls to feel safe even expressing normal emotions romantically and sexually and particularly with guys. some people hypothesized, and i think i agree with this hypothesis, that they can live through the casualness of BL. they don’t feel threatened because they can put themselves into the shoes of the other character. oftentimes, the more feminine or the younger. this was in conjunction with the age gap aspect (they say pederasty as well because there’s unethical age gaps that r gross and that is indeed what we would at least call a touch of sexual abuse if people dont feel like calling it an obsession with youth and power and uhhh young ppl and perhaps kids) where maybe girls could see themselves in these situations as the person being saved, loved, taken care of, and sadly also sexually active and penetrated.

i think that’s just one aspect of it but i do think there’s validity in who gravitates towards it. i cannot imagine seeing this stuff and not getting enough information as a young kid, i sure as fuck know i didn’t!, and seeing these things and you look at it with 0 critique because you’re young and you may have no interest in it or you simply cannot understand what is wrong. no one is teaching you these things and these shows confirm it. and it is wild how intrinsic patriarchy is to BL although in its existence it also can’t be in line with patriarchy given the nature of two [cis] men!

it begs the question about the replacement aspect. is it just so girls can put themselves in these characters shoes? if so then that means we believe that gender is so interchangeable within our relationships and interactions and that doesn’t seem right. there’s more to lgbtq+ than just existing; it’s finding ways to communicate, finding a family, safety, your people, being a free person. there’s a lot to gain and a lot a lot to lose. and a gay man is also not a woman because those are also two distinct experiences. especially in societies that have a more hidden aspect to sexuality (idk how to word this bc the BL industry would NEVER survive in america but in a way there’s a more “progressive” look at homosexuality but it’s still fucked up because we live in a Society, you know? at the same time look at what we are doing to trans kids. literally waging war so it’s bonkers how we all collectively have some real progress happening but at the same time not at all. the concept of ‘ladyboys’ and the frequency we see trans people in thai shows is wild and something that we absolutely do not see here in the US. still, none of these groups feel safe or are getting better material conditions in either place. we just show the ways we can try and tolerate oppression witout eliminating it imo)

to me it is clear: it’s money. which most things exist to make money so. but also who is the audience for these shows? and they have to market towards them. all that said all hope is not lost there are some decent shows. it’s just like regular media on TV though where it’s so fucking saturated as an industry that it’s literally sifting through garbage. and there are some days when you can handle the trash and others where it really fucking hurts to watch the violence, the rape, the manipulation, the violations, the stupid messaging. i have never seen more people trying to do mental gymnastics and seeing if things were “technically rape” than in teh BL fandom and that is so fucking sad.

i came into these shows at 28 with almost 0 clue of what as media BL was like esp as media that countries can use as soft power with the revenue. but i realize like...i’m 29 now and so many people don’t have a sizeable, though not huge, amount of life experience. and i wonder for people on the internet who are usually searching for something if they spend so much time on it like what a 15 year old girl thinks. what a 20 year old girl thinks.

it is incredibly problematic and so awful but there’s also some rewards. if you haven’t i would definitely watch i told sunsset about you which i don’t think i’m going to finish and i doubt i’ll watch the second installment (watch this be a lie) but when i say some fucking impeccable storytelling and art? phew. now that is a fucking piece of media that works. it takes from moonlight heavily and you can see like...the artistic dedication is there and the story makes its world and sets up its stakes extremely well.

i think because this is marketed towards much younger people too they know they dont have to try as hard. but they SHOULD because then you can have a fucking masterpiece like that. i think even this prolific gay thai filmmaker (who is like solidly against the government) who is so respected (and who i like a lot! if u wanna know i can tell u lmao but the films are very uhhhhhhhh “artsy”) would like i told sunset about you. i wish more people had budget like that and also just cared about the stories. it’s the fucking magic of art to figure out what you can do but there is very little incentive honestly. idk i am very pessimistic. there are days when it’s really a great pick me up and distraction but it is never a place i would love for to feel seen or heard but i’m more of the mind of i never trust the mainstream until they prove me wrong ;)

or i never trust the mainstream and i still buy into it anyway and then cry when i don’t like what i see adn i yell “BOO GET OFF THE STAGE!” when an old man won’t leave a teenager alone

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giorgiastastes · 4 years

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버닝 / Burning (2018)

"It's too close, you might not see it"

What to say about this movie...

The film itself is quite simple, even too easy at first sighting I'd dare to say, but the meaning behind, the interpretations and smart details is what makes it unique and pretty much a masterpiece.

I'm sure that most people, or at least those who usually watch unchallenging to elaborate movies, won't like it. If you're looking for something what will be "explained to you", for the director to give you that big plot twist or long monologue, you won't find it here. But if you want to watch a work of art that'll make you think, reflect and crash your minds, you have a good journey in front of you.

I remember that as soon as I've finished watching it I went online to look for theories, to see if someone else had the same idea as me, if I got it right and what I've missed, and then I planned to write here my thoughts on the real explaination, but after rewatching and searching I've figured it out BURNING doesn't really have a "true" explaination in my idea, or better, the director definitely knows what he believes is the so called truth, but the strength of it is how free of interpretations it is. I've read hundreds theories and honestly all of them could fit just right, so for once I've decided to do something different.

In here I will summarize all the theories, under layers and explaination that I've read, figured out or found, and I will leave to you, the reader, to believe your own "truth"

This will be full of spoilers, it's actually a summarization of the after watch, so read at your own risk, and since I'm taking for granted that you've watched the movie and remember it quite well too, I won't always repeat the plot when not necessary.

• Ben sells organs on the black market. That's how he gets his money and Haemi is aware of this, and decided to sell her own organs to pay off her debt. She even says I'D SELL MY ORGANS IF I WERE YOUNGER. She could also be unaware of this and that's why she dissapears.

• Ben is a serial killer. He seduces fragile women who are very easy preys to such an handsome and carismactic young man, and then gets rid of them after he gets tired. This happens about every couple of months, which corresponds to his journey in Africa timeline. They are the greenhouses he burns, because he knows nobody will look for them, and in fact the police does not care about the greenhouses, just like they don't care about missing women nobody knows about.

Ben also owns all the qualities of a maniac sociopath who's keen on control and feels no emotion or empathy. He never cries for example. He also feels pride in his crime and he's almost tempted to confess them to show how good he is. That's why he says to Jongsu that he will burn a greenhouse close to him, but he didn't mean it in a special terminology, but more like in an emotional sense. He will kill the the closest thing the other has, which is Haemi. He also states that she dissapeared like "smoke".

This would also be justified by the creepy call the protagonist receives by Haemi before she dissapears. The biggest evidence placed by the director to prove that this theory is the most correct one is in the last scene, where Ben is putting makeup on a new girl. For a non Korean speaker it's quite hard to get the reference but Makeup and corpses' cremation are spelled in the same way in the hangul language, therefore the movie showing us Ben doing the girl's makeup is the alternative way to say he's killed her and is now cremating the body, hence his obsession with fires.

He's the one who cleaned Haemi's room and took her cat. He also keeps his victims personal objects as a throphy of some sort.

• Ben is a pimp. He's the trainer for these beautiful, young but poor women who are ready to sell themselves when he convinces them to do so. This is shown as Haemi also become less and less shy as the movie goes on, as seen in the undressing scene, while being more bold and provocative too. He changed her drastically, or maybe only let her discover a different, more free, part of herself. He also applies makeup on them how he would do to a doll, playing dress up for a woman who's now becoming just an object of desire that can be bought.

• Ben is a human trafficker. He sends women into slavery while promising them a life of luxury and happiness. That's why he shows off his idyllic lifestyle, and then sells them in Africa (where he goes frequently), where they'll never be found.

• Ben is a life guru. He teaches unsecure and frustrated women to feel liberated and less oppressed, to leave it all behind and start from scratch. They pay him, that's why he's rich. He also keeps a "souvenir" of every woman he has turned. This could explain why he shows up to the meeting with Jongsu in the finale. If he actually killed or sold these women he wouldn't fall into the other man's trick.

• Ben doesn't exist. He's just the symbol of everything Jongsu is not but aspires to be. He's rich, confident, cultured and attractive. Every flaw and layer of insecurity Jongsu seems to have, Ben lacks. And in the end, when the protagonist finally becomes brave enough to mature, to actually chase the woman he loves, he's able to kill the shadow of himself that only reminded him of how miserable he was.

• Ben and Jongsu are the same person. Much Fight Club like, they're the same human being, just different, extreme sides of one. Jongsu could have a personality disorder or maybe we're just shown two sides of him that prove his mental health issues. That's also why Haemi seems to be involved with both of them without choosing a side, because one is the gentle but insecure fraction, the other the bold but arrogant one. And then, in the end, when such division is making him go insane, he decides to kill his alter ego.

• It's just a love triangle. One of my favorite songs of all time had a similar topic. There's the main character, a shy and quiet boy, who falls in love with a girl who feels foreign and unreachable to him. But he's not the only one in her life. She also has another lover who's much more attractive and manly in a way, and all three start to share this peculiar poliamorous love story, mostly platonic. She's very pretty and feels as free as Venus, torn between two men. Then one day she leaves, and she'll never come back. But while the second boy easily moves on with his life, figuring out it was just a näive fling, the singer remains stuck, obsessing over her day and night, trying to find answers and solutions just not to deal with the realization of her not loving him enough to stay.

• Every character represents a social stereotypes and criticism of modern South Korean classes. I think this is very straightforward, especially Jongsu's jealousy of Ben's wealth, and Haemi's attempt to RISE in the social pyramid, surrounding herself with high class people like Ben or his friends, even letting them make joke of her, to mock her, all of it just to feel part of their group and reality.

• It's all in Jongsu's head.

• The disappearance of Haemi, whether it happened or not or HOW it happened are not the main focus on the movie, which instead is the characters dealing with such loss and lack of knowledge on what happened. Much like the Russian movie Loveless (2017), where the event is only used as an artistical device to let the story progress and the characters' grief culminate. Maybe we really don't need to know what happened to her, maybe she's dead, maybe she's alive and better than ever, but to the movie's intent such information is superficial, it's just the human need to fill our curiosity when were too afraid to deal with the pain of remaining unaware of it. Jongsu is sure she's been killed and that brings him to his next move, but the viewer, he doesn't need to know, because he doesn't need to act, to keep the story going.

• Haemi might have killed herself. Ben is the only one who knows about this and that's why she gives him her cat. She also shows multiple signs of advanced depression, for more than half of the movie is almost like she's not there, like she's already just the memory, the ghost of a girl who once was there.

• The movie itself is just a metaphor. The metaphor is many times used by the characters and maybe not only as a word, part of a dialogue, but the overall film might be A BIG, CRIPTIC METAPHOR.

• Everything is hereditary. From family's fortunes and richness to behavior and inner rage. Jongsu was born poor and will die as such just like his father, and even though he seems like the most innocuous being, he's able to take out his rage on other just like this father. I guess it's in the genes.

• Jongsu is the calf. The calf represents Jongsu's pureness and naivety. And when he sells it, he's also selling his soul in a way.

• Haemi represents South Korea, Jongsu North Korea, Ben is the new Korea, the one always more and more Westernized.

• We're just reading the plot of Jongsu's book. When Haemi leaves for Africa he has plenty of time to write the story he's planning to put into words, and that's what he does. Everything we see after she comes back from her journey is just the plot of the book, and the creation of Jongsu's imagination.

• A modern reinterpretation of the Great Gatsby. Yes, obviously a VERY liberate view of the novel, but many details seem to be quite evocative.

• A criticism to how South Korea treats women. Even the movie itself does this, probably on purpose. The one who disappears is a woman, but the ones who are the main centre of attention are men. She's only a story device, never the real protagonist.

• Ben wanted Jongsu to discover his crimes so he could reach fame if the other ever made a book out of it. He's so full of himself he'd rather be punished for his crimes than never showing off how good he was at covering every proof. That's why he dies almost peacefully, and shed a tear, which he claimed to have never done before.

• The well Haemi reference to, symbolizes falling into prostitution. That's why Jongsu's mother knows about it too, since it's quite obvious she's now an escort. But she states the well is dry, as a way of saying that it's not how easy and fun it might seem.

• This is just the tragic story of a boy who's lost every possible source of love. From his father in jail, his mother who abandoned him, to the only girl that ever showed him affection disappearing, and a new friend who he decides to kill.

• Ben is Death or maybe the devil personified. He helps Haemi get the courage to end it one for all, and even pushes Jongsu to kill, cursing his soul.

#burning #burning 2018 #lee chang dong #Steven yeun #steven yeun #yoo ah in #jeon jong seo #beoning #버닝 #버닝먹튀 #south korea #cannes

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mychemicalficrecs · 4 years

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do you have any longer frikey fics, preferably bottom frank if theres smut

I do have some longer Frank/Mikey stuff, but no guarantee on bottom Frank!

Longer Frank/Mikey

Emotional Brilliance by kopperblaze, 21k, Mature. Toro and Mikey are a good team, Mikey doesn’t get why Brian had to hire someone else. In particular he doesn’t get why Brian had to hire Frank, who knows nothing about Lush products and who's incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Lush!AU. The one where Ray is a skin care expert, Frank is obnoxious, Mikey is annoyed and Pete leaves glittery handprints all over everything.

Gross roomies by turps, 36k, Explicit. Frank loves living with Mikey. Sure, the apartment is a mess, the kitchen's a toxic wasteland, and there's something growing in the refrigerator that's just a day or two away from becoming sentient, but other than those minor inconveniences, it's all cool. Or it is until Mikey decides to embark on a journey of sexual discovery and adventure and Frank's left at home with nothing but the fridge monster for company. To make matters worse, Mikey insists on telling Frank everything he does with his new kinky friends, right down to the tiniest detail. And now suddenly Frank is best friends with his right hand and he can't stop thinking about Mikey in ways he never has before. The really big problem, other than suddenly being in lust with his best friend, is that Frank isn't sure why.

Won't Know 'til You Begin by knight_tracer, Sena, 24k, Explicit. In which Frank is an accidental pervert, Mikey sleeps with Fabio, Gerard is much too sincere when talking about pain sluts, Ray is terrible with women and great with guitars, and Otter's got really bad taste in music. Alternately, the one where Frank realizes he has a thing for Mikey, Mikey realizes he has a thing for guys, and they're both adorably stupid failboats.

On Air by ladyfoxxx, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank's a radio DJ at an alternative station, spinning punk tracks and talking shit. When he gets handed the most popular show at the station to host, his first guests are independent horror filmmakers Gerard and Mikey Way.

Standing on a Planet that's Evolving and Revolving by Green, 13k, Explicit. The evolution of Frank Iero, age 15.

Buenas Noches From A Lonely Room by Femme (femmequixotic), 15k, Explicit. Frank wants to touch Mikey, to slide his fingers across the sharp angle of his cheek just below his glasses, to drag his thumb along the curve of his bottom lip, to smooth his palm down Mikey's long throat.

What Dreams May Come by sperrywink, 15k, Explicit. His career in music derailed, Frank never met the other guys in My Chemical Romance. A silly tale of teleportation.

a scent and a sound by mwestbelle, 15k, Explicit. In an urban fantasy world where werewolves can't hold a decent job and no roommate wants them, werewolf Frank is looking for an apartment. He finds one with Mikey Way.

Heart Wrapped in Clover by Sena, 19k, Explicit. Everbody's got their not-so-secret secrets on tour. When you live out of a van, you just can't help but notice things that you shouldn't talk about if you don't want to embarrass your friends or start a fight. Frank wishes sometimes they talked about things, though, because he's dying to ask if anybody else has noticed that sometimes, Mikey wears panties.

Tints Verse by turps, 65k, Mature. A MCR AU where Ray has his own gardening firm, and one day he does a job for the Ways.

We Used To Be Friends by ladyfoxxx, 50k, Explicit. "You and me, right Mikes?" "Yeah, fuck everybody else." Best friends since high school, if Frank could've chosen a brother, he'd pick Mikey. Then Mikey became a rock star and Frank... didn't. After years of radio silence, Mikey steps onto a stage in Jersey and back into Frank's life. (Or, the one where Frank is a school teacher and Mikey plays rhythm in The Used.)

And the Painted Ponies by turps, 35k, Mature. After years of struggling to be taken seriously as a bodyguard, Frank Iero is finally well established. He loves his boss, Ray, he loves his job, and he prides himself on his professionalism. But then he's assigned to be the personal bodyguard of Mikey Way. Mikey Way, aka Roboboy, is a successful high fashion model. Loved by designers and the public alike for his trademark lack of emotion, but mocked by the tabloid press for the exact same reason. Mikey is someone that Frank's sure he'll hate. Except it doesn't work out that way. In fact, it doesn't take long before Frank discovers he really likes Mikey. Maybe too much.

Better Than A Paid Life by gala_apples, 15k, Explicit. Gerard and Mikey Way are the Killjoys, a motorbaby duo. That is, until their car gets wrecked in a battle and the dashboard accessory of their new Trans Am is an ex-Companion with a mission.

Crash by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd), 26k, Explicit. In a future version of Seattle, Frank Iero's a lot of things: bike messenger, cage fighter, sometimes thief, Ray Toro's roommate. Mikey Way's also a lot of things: record label owner, co-heir to his grandmother's fortune, younger brother. Neither are normal. But they don't know just how far each other's abnormalities go until Frank's past and a secret of Mikey's unexpectedly shove together. (Dark Angel AU.)

Sound Tracking by turps, 46k, Mature. The beat is muted, almost non-existent, and the loss hits Bob hard. He's used to living his life in a constant thrum of sound, sensing those around him, the rhythm of the universe a constant companion, but here there's almost nothing. He can feel the sound that's been pulling him for weeks now, but little else. This place is dead, almost silent, and Bob aches with the feeling of being cast into nothingness. A MCR - Bob and Gerard centric space AU where Gerard's band has been taken from him and Bob helps find them. Also features FOB, especially Pete.

Drink Cider From a Lemon by turps, 20k, General Audiences. A story about friendship, love and building your own kind of home.

Mikey Way and the Quest for the Stone by Roxy_palace, 29k, Explicit. “I’m in Colombia!” Mikey said, raising his voice over the crackle of a poor connection. “No. no, no, no, no,” James wailed. Mikey could really relate to his disbelief. He couldn't believe he was in mother fucking Colombia either.

Below the Trees, Which Are Below the Stars by alpheratz, 38k, Explicit. In the mid-1920s, Gerard and Mikey moved to France - Gerard to pursue art, Mikey because he couldn't stay behind. Now, it's 1930, and Mikey's become an airmail pilot, flying the mail route to Dakar with his navigator Frank. For a long time, the only rough thing about Mikey's life was the strain on his and Gerard's soulbond when Mikey was away, but his growing feelings for Frank and the arrival of Frank's old friend Ray could change everything.

Food of Love by Lucifuge5, 12k, Teen And Up Audiences. Ever since it re-opened, Frank's been "Sweet Nothings"'s number one customer. That he harbors a gigantic crush on one of the owners is something that he's kept to himself for the most part (Ray will never tell a soul.) It's not until he strikes a friendship with the older brother of the object of his affection that he 'fesses up. Moved by Frank's pining, Gerard promises to help Frank woo Mikey. Complications arise when Gerard's "helpful advice" is anything but. Will Frank be successful in his courtship or are his chances to win Mikey's heart as ruined as a burnt cupcake?

You Only Hear The Music (When Your Heart Begins To Break) by Acadjonne, 28k, Mature. Mikey and Frank have known each other for years. They're roommates, and best friends. They're also friends with benefits. The arrangement is casual, and it suits them both. Somewhere along the way, Mikey develops feelings for Frank, but he pushes them aside. They aren't important, he'll be fine. Or, Mikey is fine, until he somehow ends up pregnant a year into this thing with Frank, and all of a sudden, he's got more to deal with than just how long he'll be able to hide his feelings for Frank or how the hell he's supposed to afford his transition.

Give Me A Reason To Believe (Failboats In Love) by Acadjonne, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. On the night of October 31st, Linda and Frank Iero welcome a baby boy into their family. He weighs six pounds, four ounces, and is nineteen inches long. They give him a family name, and he becomes the third Iero man to bear the name of Frank. A year later, on All Hallow's Eve, a sleeping baby is taken from his crib and replaced with a fake. The babe will later be taken from the hands of the goblin that stole him, and he will be raised by two rowan treefolk, a house brownie, and some pixies. ----- When Ray walks down the stairs to the Way family basement, the last thing Mikey expects to see is a scrappy and long-haired form following behind him. But as he later finds out, Frank is almost always unexpected in the best of ways, the rest of the world be damned.

Death's Muse by TheFratelliEffect, 53k [WIP], Mature. Lonely and depressed, Mikey Way is battling through the drab years that immediately follow college. Struggling to make a living as an artist, Mikey has became a battered down, quiet introvert whom wants nothing to do with the abusive romance he is unwillingly involved in. On a cold winter morning, the starving artist is confronted with the opportunity to paint Frank Iero, the Midnight Falls' elusive, young doctor, which he takes up immediately. Love and lust ensure as the story opens on the painter as he meets his muse.

Gallons Of The Stuff by MCRmyGeneral, 20k, Explicit. Frank has been amused by blood for as long as he can remember. When he was a child, it was a simple fascination; the way it felt on his hands, the way it looked dripping to the floor, the way it smelled. But as he grew older, that simple fascination morphed into a daring lust. Blood no longer amused him, now it turned him on. Frank has never intentionally hurt someone just to see their blood. He just takes what he can get whenever an accident happens. But when Mikey is hurt bad, Frank discovers how hard it is to keep his hands, and thoughts, to himself. He loves Mikey, he has for a long time. But now, he finds his silence so much harder to keep. He has two choices: either tell Mikey how he feels, about him and his blood, and risk scaring him away, or keep quiet, and never let the man know how much he means to him. Whatever he chooses, he knows that someone will get hurt.

#frank/mikey #fic rec list #frikey

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nanabansama · 4 years

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Ask Round-Up 1/?

I've recently gotten a lot of asks in the past week or so, which has been pretty fun! But it's a bit intense responding to all of them individually, and I have been wanting to try and respond... so I thought this might be an easier way to do so, by putting them all in one post!

I don't have as much to say about most of these also, so I figured a quick response like this was better, instead of multiple small posts. 🎶

So, without further ado...

Ask No. 1

I think Hanako is incapable of "showing his limit" at the moment, for one. The seal on his cheek seems to seal his own power away (a thought I explore in this post btw), weakening him and preventing him from using his true power. Beyond that, Hanako is plenty strong enough to deal with any enemy thrown at him so far, so there hasn't been a need for him to go all out.

I also suspect that Hanako may have some reservations about showing his real power if he has trouble controlling it, or it makes him look scary. If that's the case, his worry about what Yashiro may think of him could definitely be holding him back! We just have to see. 🎶

Ask No. 2 (I'm not sure if they're connected but I am assuming yes?)

Hmm... well, I do think the twin's relationship is clearly abnormal, especially since one killed the other. But I don't think the blushing Amane does during PP is of much concern; it comes across as a guy who is embarrassed of his clingy younger brother.

As for other occurrences, like in Ch. 16 when Amane finally meets Tsukasa again, I think Amane is just upset. Blushing can be seen when people cry, too, and it’s upsetting seeing your dead brother who you murdered.

As for Tsukasa... I do think he's a victim like Amane, in at least one way! If Amane had parents or guardians that didn't care about the scars on his wrists, then Tsukasa is also probably a victim of parental neglect. Maybe he’s not AS victim as Amane is, but he’s a little bit victim.

Ask No. 3

I'm not sure! But I think it might have to do with the current arc. Aoi said she wants to go "far away", so maybe Aoi wanted to confide in her friend about her feelings? Aoi seems to feel disconnected from everyone in her life, even her best friend Nene, so she might've wanted a friend to just... listen to her. :( It could also have to do with how Aoi could see supernaturals, maybe...?

Ask No. 4

In Japanese media, there's a popular trope of The Seven Mysteries, which is represented in Hanako-kun. You can read about it on tv tropes here!

I link this, because there doesn't have to be an Eighth Mystery. There certainly could be, but the whole gimmick of it is that there’s Seven, not Eight. :D I think the only way we are going to get an Eighth Mystery in Hanako, it it even happens, is through Yashiro. But it is also possible that maybe the God of the Seven Mysteries could count as the Eighth...? (Just a wild guess!)

Ask No. 5

I'm honestly not sure. I'd personally just say they're there to accentuate the character's personalities. Yashiro is a (former?) mystery-loving highschool girl, with a love of cute and creepy things (she has skeleton plushies in her bedroom!). Sakura is a refined lady who holds fancy tea parties, so of course she'd have a lovely gem brooch!

If I had to go with something a bit more theorize-y, the skull could represent how Yashiro is going to die soon, and maybe the gem on Sakura holds magic properties? XD Like how people believe crystals hold hidden powers... I dunno!

Ask No. 6

I love the pilot too, I'm with you there! I'm ultimately happy with the current Hanako we have, but there's parts of it I liked better. In particular, the concept of Hanako going to hell and being punished with marks on his wrist were pretty interesting. And AidaIro's old art is such a treat to look at!

And thanks so much! I blush. 😊

I got into Hanako-kun in November, after seeing the first animated trailer for it! It's so nostalgic watching it now, hehe. An artist I liked retweeted it on Twitter, and then I decided to read the manga! And then I made this blog after reading the manga in two days. XD Fun times!

Ask No. 7

I feel very bad for Sumire! I think it's awful that she's been forced into boxes her whole life (and afterlife); first she was chosen to be a sacrifice and only had No. 6 for company, and then she died and was forced to stay in a timeloop of her own death as No. 6's yorishiro. I'd really hate if she ended up dying again if her yorishiro is destroyed, because her life is sooo unfair; so I'm purposefully hoping that Yashiro's crazy plan will work. XD

I'm not sure how much Yashiro can "save" Sumire, but maybe Sumire and No. 6 can make up and live happily ever after together. :) Wouldn't that be nice?! Maybe if we wish hard enough it will come true. (Lol)

And that's an interesting idea! Perhaps Sumire and Tsukasa went to heaven, and the yorishiro copies are just clones of the memories that No. 6 and No. 7 had of them. If that's what you mean, anyways? But yes, it's strange how yorishiros live a life of punishment of living through their deaths, if that's also what happened to yorishiro!Tsukasa... how needlessly cruel, when they’re supposed to be precious objects!

Ask No. 8

I am good, thanks! :D

At first I thought it was an alternate timeline, but now I do think Nene actually time-travelled to the past, since Hanako acts weirdly around her after seeing her in the yukata. I figure Hanako just couldn't remember her very well, or perished the thought of them being the same since the girl was from 1964, not 2015+! And I'm unsure if young Amane's wish to meet her again is the cause of everything happening, but it would be awfully ironic, huh? 😅 The kid should've done the astronaut wish like she told him to! (Sheesh!)

Ask No. 9

This ask was in reference to this post!

I think this is a solid theory! If there were three Hanakos (the original, another, and then Hanako-kun), then Sakura seems like the most obvious choice for being the second one.

And yes! The girl does look like Sakura. Although, she is wearing a middle school uniform (I think?), and the hair doesn't match exactly... but it's something interesting to at least consider!

I'm unsure if she got removed from her job because of her wish to Tsukasa, though; I feel like Hanako would've had her position before she made a wish, especially since Tsukasa's wish-granting powers seem to be linked to Amane's powers as “Hanako-san of the Toilet”. So she must have done something else to get fired, I think!

Well, that wraps up this first Ask Round-Up. I’m not sure if I will be making this into a thing or not, but it was fun! Hope it was enjoyable. Bye-bye. :D

#asks #hanako san #sakura nanamine

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grupaok · 4 years

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EXHIBITION OF FORCE

In 2016 Arden Sherman and Julian Myers-Szupinska published “Exhibition of Force,” a review of the reopened SFMOMA, on the blog of The Exhibitionist, a journal about exhibition making, which was taken offline in 2017. We are retrieving that review here, as it speaks to the longer history of the current crisis at that museum.

The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art has been closed for major renovations for the last three years. Designed by the Norwegian architecture firm Snøhetta, the new building, a hybrid of the 1995 building designed by Mario Botta and the white wavy tower designed by the Scandinavian architects, opens to the public this weekend.

The impetus for this renovation can be credited, in large part, to the donations of Doris and Donald Fisher, the progenitors of Gap Inc. The fortune accumulated from their clothing empire allowed the couple to become philanthropists, art collectors, and SFMOMA board members. After a long-bruited (but eventually abandoned) plan for the Fishers to build their own museum in San Francisco’s Presidio, the family negotiated a hundred-year “loan” of their vaunted collection to the museum, as well as a massive donation to a capital campaign that would allow for a $305 million building expansion to accommodate it. The museum subsequently raised a comparable amount to bolster its endowment and operating costs. The revamped institution held a sequence of opening events in April and May — press and member previews, a glitzy gala — that culminates with its May 14, 2016, reopening to the general public.

Bay Area institutions keyed a number of events to SFMOMA’s reopening to take advantage of increased visibility and visitors, among them the Parking Lot Art Fair at Fort Mason, various gallery openings and performances, and the Open Engagement conference at the Oakland Museum of California. That last, an annual conference of socially engaged artists and activists, took “power” as its theme. This was partly an homage to the history of organizers and radicals in the Bay Area (e.g., Black Power) but perhaps also a pointed riposte to the current tech boom in San Francisco (i.e., “money power”), which has occasioned skyrocketing rents and a massive reorganization of the city’s social ecology over the last several years.

The lens of “power” is a useful way to think about the new SFMOMA’s elaborate and overwhelming opening gambit. Take, for example, the architecture. When Mario Botta designed SFMOMA’s downtown San Francisco building in 1995, he took seriously the task of making a space where people were not intimidated and where art would be the star — even if the stately black marble of the Botta atrium and staircase was ultimately a peculiar way to enter (the new museum keeps the Botta marble but replaces his staircase with a lighter zigzag). The Snøhetta addition, too, focuses on the art, but does so at a massively enlarged scale: the new SFMOMA is two and a half times its former size and has more square footage than the Museum of Modern Art in New York, a city ten times the size of San Francisco. The result is something like a sprawling, seven-story, two-building mega-mansion: a huge feat, but one that feels endless rather than bountiful.

This building squares with the city’s new ambitions for itself. The two buildings hitched together, the somber Botta and the sleek Snøhetta, signal a sort of timetable of the city’s own history, and track an extreme influx of money in recent years. Such an architectural “twofer” confesses San Francisco’s specific brand of preservationism while also trumpeting its will to international and institutional power — and precisely in a neighborhood historically referred to as “skid row.”

The contents of this building, the expanded collection, signal a different sort of power. Museum collections are of course vital ways for regular viewers to see historically important works of art, and better that they are available to the public than squirreled away in collectors’ homes. And of course a museum’s holdings become a fundament of the institution’s identity. But this issue is complicated in the new SFMOMA by the branding of the works to particular donors — especially the two floors allotted for the Fishers’ collection and the one for Peter and Mimi Haas. Interestingly, the Haas works represent another fortune derived from jeans: Peter Haas was president and CEO of Levi Strauss & Co. from 1976 until his death in 2005. This means that pretty much anyone with a pair of pants in their closet has something like an investor’s share in the museum’s collections.

These galleries retain the blue-chip outlines of their moneyed collectors. For the Fishers, this means postwar American and German abstraction, almost universally by white men, barring a single room of paintings by Agnes Martin. And for the Haases, it means rambunctious pop by a somewhat more diverse cohort of artists — a collection that feels rather more familiar for an “international museum.” And like the architecture, these collections too exhibit a certain divided personality: given pride of place in the new galleries, they nevertheless reproduce the tastes and purchasing strategies of their CEO collectors, whose predilections may not always align with the museum’s own “objective” priorities — though at SFMOMA the two priorities have now become hard to disentangle.

This is especially true with the Fisher collection. If their unambitious love of Ellsworth Kelly, Richard Serra, and Andy Warhol is vindicated by the history of art, it is vitiated by redundancies among big sign-value works throughout the museum, both within each floor and among the various “exhibitions” in which these artists make repeat appearances. The works become hard to distinguish from one another; each one signals the same sign-value, of importance plus ownership. Making one’s way through the museum one is constantly struck with déjà vu. In which room, or floor, did I see the blue Kelly painting? Did I already see that Warhol? What should we gather from these recurrences? That is, except for the co-presence of all these treasures.

The works from SFMOMA’s permanent collection, many installed in the same spot as before the renovation, are varied in comparison, and feel distinct from the Fisher trove, not least because they have a greater number of works by artists of color, and by women. The galleries devoted to photography are excellent, too, and include works by younger and more experimental artists. And the works on view from the museum’s Campaign for Art initiative — assembled since 2009 by a wider range of donors, and including three thousand works to date — incorporate more pieces by living artists and artists from California, some of whom donated their own works to the collection.

Such works have a reason to be here. More so, at least, than those resulting from the Fishers’ proclivity for Germans, which, in a perplexing turn, gives SFMOMA particularly strong holdings in postwar German artists such as Gerhard Richter, Sigmar Polke, and Anselm Kiefer. But why exactly do major stores of these artists belong in San Francisco, aside from the Fishers’ fascination with them? Kiefer in particular is poorly served by being so abstracted from the German history in which his Wagnerian dramatism has ambiguous force. In San Francisco, and presented without mediation as such, they read as merely apocalyptic decor. One can only wonder why corporate CEOs have an affinity for this stuff.

Two more aspects of power come to mind. One is that of audience: Just which public does this new museum address? With admission set at a steep $25 and tightly timed timeslots for gallery access, will this institution appeal to a local audience, or largely to tourists for whom this sticker shock won’t matter so much? Major expansions at other institutions have not reliably led to expanded audiences, local or touristic, and it is not sure what will happen in this case, either. SFMOMA’s free admission for those under eighteen is a salutary countermove. Even better is an ongoing collaboration between the education and curatorial departments under the rubric of Public Dialogue, which aims to build partnerships with community galleries and public libraries. Such programs promise to continue the vision of the museum’s founders, which hoped to make the museum a vital part of the cultural life of city residents. But this is a long game, and it is hard to tell just how much it will engage Bay Area audiences on a deep and meaningful level.

And this affirmation of “city residents” rests on an anxious precipice in today’s San Francisco, where citizenship and residency are increasingly attenuated. Perhaps, given the extreme dislocations that characterize the city today, with warehouse districts now serving as tent cities for homeless post-residents, the museum ought to hold a “displaced residents day?” One has to wonder what they, or we, should think about when looking at a work like Charles Ray’s Sleeping Woman (2012) — which, as the wall text helpfully explains, speaks to how homeless people are frequently ignored or invisible in society. Ray’s work calls to mind another “gap,” that between rich and poor, between those included in San Francisco’s current boom and those ejected from it. This disparity is hardly invisible in San Francisco these days, but rather is a harsh and inescapable part of daily life.

Furthermore, moments of strategic generosity as described above are balanced uneasily against the power of money in the museum as it stands (the value of the expanded collection has been estimated at a billion dollars). One must nevertheless mark a circular logic to this extraordinary concentration of value: the Fishers and others gave SFMOMA money to expand, while the very reason the museum needed to expand was to house the Fishers’ “loan.” And so SFMOMA is the channel through which this money coursed, while accumulating comparatively little capital, intellectual or otherwise, of its own, independent of its lenders. In some weird sense, therefore, the power of money in this case may be more marginal than it appears. Perhaps the best we can hope, then, is that this perpetual motion machine now locked onto the old museum might spin off more programs like Public Dialogue, and worthwhile exhibitions off the main, collector-driven concourse — and that there is still a local audience in San Francisco interested in seeing them.

Arden Sherman is Curator at Hunter East Harlem Gallery, a multi-disciplinary space for art exhibitions and socially-minded projects located in Hunter College’s Silberman School of Social Work in New York City. Julian Myers-Szupinska was senior editor of The Exhibitionist, and is a member of grupa o.k. Photo: Charles Ray, Sleeping Woman, 2012, installation view, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Photograph by Julian Myers-Szupinska.

#SFMOMA #julian myers-szupinska #arden sherman #fisher collection #museum #art #grupa o.k.#exhibition #art writing

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westernchords · 3 years

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2020: a replay & reflection

so... here we are at the near end of a very long, unsettling & strange year. and at this particular moment in time, spotify has released its 2020 wrapped feature, an annual highlight for gay people everywhere (self VERY included). since the world is very large & this is a personal blog with a limited scope, i'll talk about what i know best: the view from my corner of the musical world.

i only had two songs in common with any previous year -- i wish i missed my ex by mahalia & sugar by brockhampton (... i know, the heartache is loud already,)

4 unique rain asmr audios made it into my top 15 (they help me sleep lolol)

show tunes was my #4 most listened to genre and yet not a single one made it into my top 100. (i'm pretty sure it was all of my late night waitress sing alongs)

i discovered 1,012 new artists and 162 new genres

all very fun and interesting things! however, in looking at this year, there are two things to discuss that are most important: the amount of time i spent listening to music (111,989 minutes) and my top song, fake mona lisa. let's discuss both.

on time: in short, music means a lot to me. in long, i mean that music has been central to my life for as long as i can remember. i think of my church choir and my mother singing eartha kitt and corrine bailey rae in the kitchen, my father's surprise talents at piano when he would play in chapel, and how i like to make up little ditties to sing for my dog or while i cook or to solely entertain myself. if one was to take a look at my journals, each entry is annotated with the song i was listening to or suited my mood at the time i was writing. at any moment, i am capable of revisiting the emotional landscape of old memories all set to the very soundtrack that holds that particular past closest.

i still remember plucking violin strings at 5, how i used to stack music books so i could sit up straight on my piano bench because i was too short at 7, picking up woodwinds in highschool and letting my best friend act as conductor, and now, singing endlessly- day in and day out, because it makes me feel like i am traveling home. i think of creole folk songs that connect me to my family, my diaspora. i remember the favorite songs and artists of people i don't know anymore, but still. it stays with me. my friend cj says i have a great emotional sensitivity to music, but more so, music simply connects to every cornerstone of who i am. the creation of it, the listening, the love of it. the constancy.

music is integral to my daily routine and life. since i was 13, maybe younger, i have always believed that the first song i hear in a day sets the tone so i always try to play something i love and makes me feel joyful to start off on the right foot. i will do this my entire life. every day is permeated by sound and the data shows it. 111,989 minutes is almost 3 months straight. this doesn't even count soundcloud listens or youtube tracks or music i play on my own. this felt fitting. music, this year in particular, has been a salve to both new and old hurt. and maybe i am picking at my scabs, but 2020 has amplified so much anger and shame and fear and despite that, there is so much joy in art. music is a balm for the world, it is poetry in its own right.

on fake mona lisa: so .. i am kind of obsessed with this song. fifteen hours worth of listening, i text my friends i'll join the video call soon - i just need one more replay, i got high and played this song while lying in the middle of a meadow and experienced more emotions than i had had in a very long time, my friends lovingly tease me about it so it's sort of like a character trait now, kind of obsessed. my turning to this song was the sort of romance that i didn't anticipate, but fell very hard into and, if you know me, you know that's my favorite kind. let's get into why: when dedicated side b came out, i was heartbroken. there's really no other way to put it. i was alone, back in my childhood bedroom, and harboring a reopened wound from past relationships that maybe had never closed in the first place. i was in this strange, melancholic knee-deep-in-emotions place & if you're an avid CRJ fan, you recognize that's a place she knows and sings about well.

as a song, fake mona lisa tends to be one of carly's more lyrically opaque tracks. which is fine, i'm a storyteller at heart, i'll craft my own narrative. (and honestly, there wasn't much legwork here.) without doing a full blown analysis, here are pieces that i find important to note about the song lyrically and resonate most with me -- big or small.

(transcription at bottom)

what i'm basically saying is that this song is about risk and young love and sex. its about secrets, cheap thrills, fast & easy desires, and the fantastical euphoria of a dead-end-but-still-fun “we're young so what's the matter,“ relationship. (very reminiscent of LA hallucinations, imo) and to me, someone who has been in and out of this same subset of emotional affairs, fake mona lisa stuck with me. vegas is a city of high risk, high reward- where else to chase that superficial, unattainable someone? more so, the song gives you the understanding that the relationship doesn't last, but that was not what carly ever truly wanted out of it. fake mona lisa is, at its core, about over indulgence in pleasure as a stand in for actual love + commitment, something i am oft to do myself & only did more of after dedicated side b dropped. i latched onto the slow and simmering exposition into glittery pre-chorus, starlit imagery, shiny-faraway vocals, and frankly, there was no competition for my song of the year. the song is a dream. i love it and i know what that says about me, but i stand by it.

dedicated side b, especially fake mona lisa, carried me through the healing process of heartbreaks that crystallized into many other things- indulgence, desire, risk, short lived romances, secrets, joy, kisses i should've kept to myself, spontaneous dance breaks, tears, etc., it is an album about love, recovery, and returning to the self. fake mona lisa is just my favorite stop on a long train ride to an okay-ness with aspects of romance (both with the self and others) that i am still figuring out the messy, rose-tinted, contours of.

and sonically? i just adore the key of d minor.

as a last touch point, fake mona lisa was only the tip of the iceberg of songs i obsessed over about not-exactly-ideal romances. again and again and again, heartbreak anthems appeared in my top 100, a deviation from my typical warmth towards romantic sentiments that appeared in past years. instead, there is a sense of love-at-a-distance, a painting yourself as the object of desire, a severed attachment, a not wanting to commit at all (see let's be friends, heartbeat, want you in my room, all by crj ... all appearing on the list.) however, much of what appeared celebrated love and having tremendous, special, struck by cupid, feelings. it's all there. what i'm saying is that carly rae jepsen writes music for lovestruck people- both lucky and not so much, hopeless or hopeful -- you name it. she writes about how you can fall in love with almost anyone, soundtracks for the highs of the first throes of intimacy, the first (and last) kiss, the shared moments between two people when they are each other's whole world, and the palpable distance of heartache, separation, and the landscape between.

she writes as though she is both eros and psyche, armed with arrows of cascading melodies, tipped with a salve for suppressing+healing+amplifying heartbreak, and lyrics so intimate and dreamy, you really can't help but believe in love with the way she speaks of it. love is a venture from shame, a fantasy that is more real than anything else, tender and kind, pleasurable, and escapable into. the world is better in it, the world is better because of it. in carly rae jepsen's discography, love is the defining pillar of experience. a northern star and guiding principle. it is the only thing, no matter what form. & frankly? i cant help but agree.

as a final note, in hanif wills-abdurraqib's emotion review for MTV, carly rae jepsen's public displays of affection, he says this:

thats all for now. bye 2020.

- august

///

transcription of my notes:

verse 1:

city/star light imagery

i am known for wearing a star stamp on my cheek

infatuation & attraction

paints a photo of a starlet and her lover, a fair weather affair

pre-chorus:

always waiting fro a chance the object of desire

a high from love, addictive pleasures

chorus:

sex & art & risk taking (art synonymous with beauty. + seduction)

she knows she cant handle this in a real way, but wants it

desire vs/& (in conjunction with) pain

verse 2:

an idealistic worldview, hoping for the best, always somewhere else not present.

dreamy lyrics + dreamy state of mind, cloudy even.

specifically the words fake mona lisa:

contrast, beautiful yet fully acknowledged to be unreal/superficial

a stand in for “real art“ aka “real love“

#crj #mine

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years

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PART ONE

LOVE OR HATE?

WARNINGS: mild swearing, slight violence

WORD COUNT:2242

When Katie's younger sister comes on the field trip with her, they meet Officer Jake Riley. Instantly there's some kind of hatred forming between her and Jake, but, when both of their worlds go spiralling, they both have to question if it was really hate or a disguised love?

Y/n and Katie had always been extremely close - especially for sisters with a five year age gap. They both lived together - y/n worked as an artist and Katie was a teacher at the local elementary school. That's what landed y/n here, in a hospital waiting room while the whole building was in a 48 hour lockdown. Great. Katie has persuaded y/n to come on a field trip to the hospital with her and the kids, and now she was sat in a chair, playing with the rings on her right hand, bored out of her mind. It had been 20 minutes. She was already bored. This was going to be fun.

Suddenly, Katie rushes up to her, clearly in a flat panic. "Y/n, I've lost Quentin! And his friend, Thomas. I don't know what to do! I can't believe I wasn't looking out for them more, I-" y/n cut her off, "hey, Kates, it'll all be fine, I'll go find the boys. You stay here and keep an eye on everyone else. I won't be long." Y/n stood up and walked out the room.

She eventually made it to the basement floor, walking through a dingy, tiled corridor. "Hey! Put your hands where I can see 'em! Stay 4-6 feet away." She heard a strong, male voice boom behind her. She rolled her eyes and put her hands up, slowly turning around. "Is this really necessary?" She sassed, noticing the gun pointing straight at her heart. The man holding it was handsome, with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He had a bit of scruff and was clearly very muscular. "You can't be down here, miss." He continued, holding a dominant tone. She rolled her eyes again - god, cops always assumed anyone they spoke to was some kind of assassin or mass-murderer. "You can drop the gun, cop-boy. I'm just looking for my nephew and his friend. I'm no national threat or anything." He lowered the gun slightly and continued, "1) I decide when it's appropriate to drop the gun, 2) don't insult a cop, or I'll have to cuff you and 3) why is your nephew and his friend in a restricted area of a hospital?" She huffed and dropped her hands to her sides as he took a few steps forward, dropping his gun to his side. "1) 4-6 feet, buddy, 2) is like to see you try and 3) well they're not anywhere else in this building and it's not like any of us are getting out any time soon, is it?" He closed the gap between them and spun y/n around, pushing her into the wall. "I will punch you if you don't let go if me." She said through gritted teeth. He leant down so he could talk into her ear. "Yeah, well I'm still the cop and you're making open threats to me. And these kids must be stupid or something. I'll find them - now is no time to let your kids off their leash." She rolled her eyes and stamped on his foot. He tightened his grip on her wrists, seemingly unphased by y/n's action. "You are in so much trouble - but I'll let it slide, just this once. One puny girl looking for some elementary school kids is the least of my problems right now." He said into her ear again. He released her wrists and took a step back. She stood away and rubbed her wrists.

"We better get going then." Y/n said, continuing marching down the corridor. The guy jogged up to her again. "Hey! There's no 'we' about this! I'm going and that's finial." Y/n spun on her heal to look at him, "look no offence, cop-boy, but I promised my sister I'd find these kids and get them back safely, I don't really care what uniform you're wearing I just want to find my nephew unharmed and healthy, got it?" She stormed off, eventually finding her way into a room where then man with the rats from before sat, two little boys in front of him. "Miss wait i-" the guy continued on until I cut him off, "Quentin! Thomas! Your mum was worried sick!" Y/n said kindly to the boys, she looked up at the guy with the rats, "I hope they weren't troubling you?" He smiled at her and waved her off, "oh no, no. They were perfectly fine." She smiled and crouched down, looking at the boys, "what do we say, boys?" She said with a smile. They both turned to the man and said thank you. Y/n stood up and looked at him, a warm expression on her face, "thank you." He smiled back, "anytime."

She stood up and turned around, ushering the boys out the door. As she went to walk through the guy grabbed her upper arm, "we are not done talking. Meet me back in that hallway in an hour." Y/n raised and eyebrow, "so what you're saying is you'd like to see me again? How flattering ." Before shoving past him, catching up to the boys.

Y/n quickly got fed up with the noise in the waiting room, so she grabbed her sketch-pad and a pencil and headed down to the corridor - hoping to find some quiet. She was 45 minutes early but she didn't really care. Once she got there she slid down the wall, moving her feet up so she could use her thighs as a rest for the lag while she drew. She started to sketch on the pad, letting the pencil take her where it wanted, her imagination going wild. She was pulled out of her trace to someone deliberately clearing their throat. She looked up to see the cop from before towering over her. "Miss-" he stopped as y/n cut in, "y/n." He continued, "miss y/n, mind if I join you?" He said sourly. "I don't really have a choice, do I?" He laughed and slouched against the opposite wall. "No."

Y/b laughed back. "So, Officer-" he cut her off this time. "Riley. Officer Jake Riley." Y/n continued, "right, cop-boy, what is it you so desperately needed to see me for again?" He tone had a slight annoyance in it. "Well, you did insult an cop. And you assaulted me." Y/n waved it off, "pfff, you barely felt it. It was light tread." He shot her a warning look. "So, y/n. Why do you think it's alright to insult a cop?" he said. She thought about it for a second before retorting, "because you're all dicks." He raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" She nodded her head. "Huh, thanks for the information. So, would you like to tell me why me and everyone I work with are suddenly all dicks?" He seemed amused at her statement and her boldness. She sighed and finally answered, "because you don't respect people. You treat us all like sociopaths, or objects." She spat. He chuckled, "I'm beginning I get the feeling you had a bad experience with a cop?" She nodded her head again. "What happened?" He pressed on. She sighed again, debating whether she should tell him the whole story. "Fine. I was in training, fulfilling my childhood dream of helping people. I was with the Officer I trusted most that helped out at the academy. He'd offered to hive me extra training so I took it. We were out of a run when all of a sudden he shoved me into an alleyway, pinning me against the wall. I started choking as his grip got tighter. I managed out a scream and someone heard, the looked into the ally and he shot them, before proceeding to, to, um..." Jake leaned forward a bit, "What did he do, y/n?" She swallow, "he raped me." She said almost silently, but he must've heard because realisation flickered over his features. "You're Y/n Frank, aren't you?" She nodded weakly. All colour seemed to drain from his face. "That was one of my first cases. I was the one who arrested him, but by the time I got there you were already in the ambulance and my partner was the one taking the statement. I'm so sorry." He said, his voice full of pity. "I don't need your pity. Anyway, after that I couldn't stand to wear the same uniform he had, so I dropped out with only one month to go until I would have been a cop. Then I decided to peruse my dream of art." She made unenthusiastic jazz hands as if to make it sound magical.

Y/n stood up. "Are we done now? Can I go?" Jake nodded. She walked off without another word.

————————————————————————

Over the days y/n could see Jake and Katie growing closer, both spending their free time together. When the lockdown was extended Jake came straight to y/n, who was laying on her front on her makeshift bed, sketching. "Hey, trouble, can I speak to you for a second?" Jake said commandingly. Y/n rolled her eyes. "That want a question, was it?" He shook his head. She sighed and got up, putting her pad under the bed. "Follow me." He said sternly. He lead her down to the corridor. Once there he turned to face her, "look, I'm running low on men. Like, really low. There's seven cops with side and over 400 citizens." Y/n shrugged, not bothering to make eye-contact with him. "Then just get done more send over." He sighed. "We can't - no one in and no one out." Y/n finally looked up. "Okayyy, so what do you want me to do about it?" His expression was completely serious, it was actually kind of scary. "I want you to help me, become my deputy. You've have complete training all you need is a gun and a vest, both of which I can get for you." Y/n rolled her eyes, "look, cop-boy. I dropped out for a reason. I don't want to do it and I shouldn't have too. And what do you need cops for, exactly? It's a virus, not a war." He sighed again, "look, y/n, please. Just do one patrol and decide from there. You haven't left the building. It's awful out there - robberies, murders, gang violence. I could really use the help." Y/n thought for a moment. "Fine. One patrol. That's it." He nodded. "Okay then, when do we leave?"

————————————————————————

A few hours later y/n found herself sitting in the passenger seat of Jake's squad car, in a bullet-proof vest and holding a gun. God. How her life has changed in less than a week. She'd give nothing more than to be in the spare room at home - which she used as her studio - music blaring in her headphone and paintbrush in hand. Jake was right, it was a mess out here. There were dead bodies littering the streets, windows of shops and houses broken and cars left abandoned and wrecked on the roadsides. They suddenly heard the rumble of motorbikes, the noise surrounding them. "Crap." Jake muttered. Panic shot through her. "Jake, what's happening?" He cursed again. "Gang members. Meth heads. Normally the unpredictable ones." Oh god. This wasn't good. Jake pulled the car to a stop, hoping they would all ride past.

Unfortunately for them, the gang decided to attack someone. Jake barrels out the car pulling out his and and running to stand in-front of the old woman. Y/n followed closely behind, as much as she hated the idea of being a cop now, she had very strong reasons in the first place and always felt the need to protect those around her. The motorcyclists swarmed around them, creating a cloud of dust that engulfed them. The dust cleared for a second and Jake took a shot, just missing one of the 5 men. Y/n lined up her shit with one riding towards her, taking a careful shot and hitting him in the heart. His lifeless body toppled off the bike, landing with a thud on the grass. When the others noticed, they were quick to leave, clearly phased by death. "Few, that was a close one." Y/n said in relief. Jake helped the woman across the road, sending her in her way. He motioned to y/n with his hand and she jogged over to the car.

As she climbed in and out her helmet at her feet, Jake let out a strange laugh. "H-how are you so good with a gun? You haven't shot one for what - 3 years?" He looked at her, mesmerised. "I don't know. I was always good at stuff like that, darts, archery at camp, anything with a target I guess." She shrugged. "Jeez you would have made one hell of a cop." He said almost to himself, starting the engine back up.

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yan-purgatory · 5 years

Text

Dauntless

Pairing: Yandere! Hyungwon x reader

Admin: ღ

Word Count: 2.6k

Divergent AU

“This will take me about four hours. Are you sure you have that kind of time to spare?” Hyungwon nodded, leaning back in the reclined black leather chair. The sleek material reserved for the most important of clients, meaning himself naturally. And this small luxury had some familiarity to the executive Dauntless leader, who’d found himself seeking this particular artist out many times.

He felt the cool sting of the rubbing alcohol on his collar bone, followed by the stencil being pressed into his skin and peeled off. He opened his eyes just in time to see (Y/N) powering up the tool. His eyes trailed down the parts of her body visible to him in his position. Seeing the feathers of a wing tattoo stretching across one arm, a black rose curving up each bicep. Art was splayed on nearly every inch of her body, yet the most beautiful part of her wasn’t touched by ink. Her face, which came into view as she held the whirring needle in her hand.

Having her lean close to him meant he could observe such beauty. The controversially cute upturn of her nose, the cut across one of her eyebrows, the hardened expression of concentration in her eyes. Being able to observe such a masterpiece of a woman relieved all pain of his tattoo. No anesthetic was necessary when he had (Y/N) to take his breath away.

Yet four hours passed far too fast. Before he knew it, she was leaning away and switching the tattoo needle off, wiping sweat from her forehead and offering him some water from a fridge in the corner. Hyungwon took the bottle without a thank you, letting the cool liquid trickle down his throat as he watched her remove the latex gloves and find a mirror.

“Do you like it?” The first words that left her lips in the four hours shocked Hyungwon out of a stupor, holding up the mirror to show off her work. A happy smirk worked its way onto his face as he saw the devil he’d always envisioned dancing along his collarbone, the tip of its horns reaching his shoulder.

“It’s great, thanks.” He replied simply. He would never be a man to grovel, no matter what kind of feelings (Y/N) gave him. He was a man of pride, and he wouldn’t let a tattoo artist become more powerful than him. She would be the one to run to him, to beg him to fuck her, to ask him to dominate him as he desired.

Yet she was not yet at that point. She was simply providing a service, no feelings involved. But already Hyungwon was seeing his feelings mixing into their relationship. And it wouldn’t take long for someone to push the balance and tip the scales.

As soon as (Y/N) had patched up his tattoo, Hyungwon was in a hurry to leave. The sensation of (Y/N) fingers on his skin was enough to leave him with desires that he was not ready to reveal. The deepest parts of his mind were flourishing, and she couldn’t know that until she was ready to be all his.

Without so much as a thank you he had left the parlour, brushing past his associates without any consideration. The only thing on his mind was getting back to his apartment whilst his euphoria was lasting.

He slammed the door closed as soon as he was inside, not a care in the world about how he could damage it. It wasn’t his problem, he could replace it a thousand times over with his healthy wage.

Hyungwon just collapsed onto the sofa and immediately unzipped his jeans, one hands creeping into his pants. Hyungwon leant back, his mind racing with all kinds of dirty thoughts. Imagining (Y/N)’s fingers moving from his chest to where his hand was situated, or even her mouth. Imagining how her lips would quiver, how he would make the brave girl weak beneath him.

Such ideas spilt over, and soon Hyungwon was gasping in pleasure. Sweat rolled down his forehead and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he groaned her name in pure ecstasy.

Yet after he was finished, something crossed his mind. An unplanned yet brilliant situation, that would help him achieve his objective.

He’d left his jacket at (Y/N)’s tattoo parlour.

~ ღ ~

‘She’s simply honoured to have me as a guest.’

Hyungwon was musing over their relationship as he prepared himself for the day ahead, combing his black hair out of his eyes neatly. There was a tinge of toxicity to his mind, a possessive streak. ‘I could buy her entire existence. I could remove her from her position and leave her in the streets to rot.’

He smirked at his reflection, tracing nimble fingers over the bandaged spot on his collarbone. Feeling the same places (Y/N) had touched him and imagining the same scenario but with both of them naked, her chest pressed to his and her warm breath on his ear and his-

A loud knock on the door killed his mood.

“We need you to assess a situation for us, another fight has broken out and one of trainees has broken some ribs.”

Hyungwon sighed irritably but told them he would be on his way, pulling on a shirt and letting all his thoughts be bottled up for later.

~ ღ ~

The parlour that was usually buzzing with customers early in the night had become quiet as it hit eleven. Hyungwon knew this well from the many visits that he’d spent covering the canvas of his body with her art. And he was excited to have another opportunity to visit, to woo (Y/N) and possibly get lucky, seeing as it was late at night and the chances of someone walking in were slim.

Yet, as he laid eyes upon the artist he discovers that he was not alone with her. Distracting (Y/N)’s attention with a perfect smile was a shorter man in a guard’s uniform, eyes sparkling as he whispered to her. Her hands were lethally close to his, the tattoo gun tracing the simple words of ‘Heart’ on his knuckles.

At the sound of the door, (Y/N) raised her head.

“Oh, I’m sorry but I’m with another client right now. And I can’t tattoo you again, it wouldn’t be good for your-”

“I left my jacket here,” Hyungwon replied icily, glaring at the other man sat in his chair with a shit-eating grin.

“I did find it yesterday, but I’m not sure where I put it. Search around all you like.” (Y/N) wasn’t fazed by his presence, but he was very much unwelcome in the eyes of his rival in the seat.

He stalked towards the duo, using just his body language to intimidate the other man, but this guard was of Dauntless. He wasn’t about to back down in fear of Hyungwon.

“Move. I need to find my jacket.” The younger man hissed, only to be met with a stony glare.

“(Y/N) is in the middle of my tattoo. Once it’s finished you can check the chair.” The reply was cocky and disrespectful and was clearly to be met with consequences.

“Kihyun, you should-”

“Know your place, pipsqueak, or you’ll be snuffed out.”

Kihyun didn’t flinch, glowering back with equal intensity, until a voice interrupted them.

“This is it, isn’t it?” (Y/N), the girl they both valued the attention of yet had forgotten she was present, was holding up a black leather jacket in her hand.

Hyungwon didn’t reply, simply taking it out of her grasp in one swoop and slinging it over his shoulder coolly.

The last chilling threat he gave Kihyun before leaving was one slender finger being drawn across his throat whilst (Y/N) wasn’t looking.

~ ღ ~

Hyungwon didn’t like sitting in the cafeteria, not when he has the choice of sitting in a lush reclusive area. But it gave him perfect view of his faction, the people that joined for their brave personality over all else but were mere ants in comparison to him.

The leader loved seeing his control. He especially loved thinking about all the ways he wanted to make (Y/N) his, but he always avoided indulging in those luxuries in public, knowing the effect they would have on him.

He still remembered the day of his choosing ceremony, how he’s easily sauntered over to the bowl of hot coal and let his blood sizzle. He remembered how he’d risen through the ranks in his training, easily becoming top of the class and winning every fight. And most of all, he remembered the victorious feeling of being elected as the leader of Dauntless, and how he’d felt looking at the face of his competitors and knowing that he was better and that he would always get what he deserved.

But even as he picked apart the hamburger a nasty sight caught his attention and drove all hunger away. The Kihyun fucker sat next to (Y/N), without a care in the world, as she spoke to him with an adoring look in her eyes. It was as if Hyungwon’s blood was on fire, as he stood up and let his chair fall back. The loud clatter drew plenty of attention to the executive, but he was already storming away. Those who dared to make eye contact with him saw nothing but murder hidden in those deep onyx eyes.

~ ღ ~

“What are you doing here?” Kihyun couldn’t help but burst out at the sight of the faction leader waiting outside his apartment, arms folded over his chest.

“I have something to talk with you about, pipsqueak. Follow me.” Hyungwon left no room for protest as he strode away, leaving Kihyun to follow.

As they walked through the pit, Kihyun observed that it was not bustling with life at all, and a sick feeling grew in his stomach as Hyungwon led him further down the spiral, towards the chasm.

“The power really has gone to your head, Hyungwon.” The first words that Kihyun spoke since they left the outside of his abode were dripping with toxicity.

Hyungwon stopped in his tracks, right before the gaping chasm.

“Yet you don’t seem to recognise the power I have.” He snapped back.

“Just because you beat me in the leadership contest doesn’t mean I have to kiss your boots.”

Hyungwon didn’t reply for a moment, watching the rushing waterfall.

“Why have you been getting close to (Y/N)?” He asked, not looking back at his rival.

“Why does that matter to you?” Kihyun replied simply, but that wasn’t good enough for Hyungwon.

“You’ve been trying to seduce (Y/N), haven’t you? Spending nights with her when she’s meant to be helping me and snatching her attention when I’m not available.” The Dauntless leader snarled, grasping the shorter male by the collar and tugging it harshly.

“What, am I not allowed to get a girlfriend because I threatened your position once?”

Hyungwon let out a noise of frustration before slamming Kihyun into the stone wall, a cry of pain coming from the security guard’s lips.

“You know that’s not why I’m so… concerned. It’s because I laid claim of (Y/N) a long time ago, and you don’t respect that.” Hyungwon’s rival opened his mouth to give a snarky reply only to gasp as he was hit hard in the stomach.

“I want you to stay away from her. If you can’t do that, leave Dauntless and live on the streets.” The leader was tough, but his opponent had a psyche made of steel.

“Like fuck, I will. I’m not giving in to your temper tantrum because the girl you like won’t fuck you.” It was almost like magic how Hyungwon’s face changed. What had previously been an expression of anger morphed into something more chaotic.

His grip on Kihyun’s collar was tightened as he dragged him towards the other side of the path, near the edge of the chasm where the railing was the only protection against certain death.

“You know how I spent most of this evening? I looked up your files. And I found your Aptitude test.” Seeing his victim’s face pale encouraged Hyungwon to continue with his nefarious scheme.

“And I was shocked to find that you were said to be a Candor.”

“You’re lying.” Kihyun gasped.

“But why would you pick Dauntless after testing for Candor?” Hyungwon ignored the accusation. “My guess is that you’re divergent.”

“You lying monster! My altitude test was Dauntless, and I’m not-“

“Tut tut. Such awful lies for a man who values honesty.” The smirk painted on the younger man’s face was something truly terrifying. “Now, I don’t think anyone would be surprised if a divergent like you just… disappeared.”

“You…” There was a reason Kihyun had tested so highly for Dauntless, and that was showing in his unwavering determination to not back down.

“What do you say, pipsqueak? You think you’re top dog, but you don’t belong here. You certainly don’t belong with her.” Hyungwon snarled, pushing Kihyun further against the metal railing and delighting in how his victim gasped in pain at the hard material digging into his back.

“Is the all over your fantasy with (Y/N)? I swear, if you’re threatening murder just because of some girl then you’re more off your rocker than I ever thought-”

“How dare you call her ‘some girl’!” Hyungwon roared, gripping Kihyun’s throat tightly. “She is MY girl, she is MY angel and I will fucking tear your throat out for your disrespect to the woman that is worth more than you could ever be, you good for nothing piece of shit!”

As Hyungwon ranted furiously, Kihyun tried to struggle away furiously, but he only found himself in more danger as he was pushed further back until the railing he was grasping onto was the only hope for keeping balance and not falling into the depths of the chasm.

Even so, his stubbornness wouldn’t let him give in. No matter what, he couldn’t just let Hyungwon monopolise (Y/N). She didn’t deserve that.

“Bastard.” Kihyun hissed, pushing against his opponent’s grasp. “You talk about her as if she’s your possession. She’ll never feel the way you want her to feel when all you do is jack off from her touching you and threaten her competitors, you idiot.”

“She’s going to love me,” Hyungwon affirmed, almost telling himself that. Clearly, Kihyun’s words had affected him more than he would have ever admitted.“Some divergent scum like you won’t change that.”

A foreign panic rose in Kihyun’s chest as his fingers were pried from the railing.

“Good thing you won’t be wasting our air anymore.”

The chasm claimed another life that night.

~ ღ ~

(Y/N)’s face was devoid of emotion, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she absentmindedly cleaned her client’s hand. But Hyungwon was not happy with only half her attention, and he lifted her chin with his free hand.

“What’s up, babe?” The young woman blushed at his nickname. It was like he’d done a complete one-eighty in his attitude, being much more confident and flirty than (Y/N) was used to. She’d be a fool to say that she wasn’t melting under his heat.

“It’s just that I did this exact same tattoo yesterday. On Kihyun, in fact. Feels like some sick fate.” She replied, wiping her sweaty forehead. “I hope you’re not a divergent like him.”

“Never, babe.” He replied, relaxing. When she’s brought up the tattoo, he’d tensed thinking she was catching onto his plan but luckily the topic was shifted to the tragedy. More important than that, she was concerned about him. And they were well on the way to being the perfect couple that Hyungwon envisioned on lonely nights, despite the obstacle along the way.

Hyungwon truly had nothing to fear.

#kpop yandere #yandere kpop #yandere au #yandere #yandere monsta x #yandere hyungwon #yandere hyungwon x reader #chae hyungwon #yandere chae hyungwon #hyungwon x reader #yandere mx

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mimzy-writing-online · 5 years

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Writing A Blind of Visually Impaired Character: Mannerisms

This post is part of a multi-step guide to writing blind characters, and it’s master post to all parts is linked here: https://mimzy-writing-online.tumblr.com/post/185122795699/writing-a-blind-or-visually-impaired-character

All posts on writing blind characters will be tagged #blindcharacter for you to search on my blog for.

Follow this blog for more writing advice

Disclaimer: I am a very real visually impaired person who has been living with my disability for two years and these are little things I specifically do, little mannerisms that developed because of my blindness

Part Five: Blindisms or Mannerisms that Breathe Life into Your Characters

Biological Things

-My eyes get tired so easily, and when I say tired I mean they start aching and my vision gets even worse as the day progresses. The muscles start to ache and I’ll press or pinch the area around my eyes because of the pain

-Eye strain will cause headaches. When I get eyestrain I have to take off my glasses, stop looking at screens, and just relax for a while in bed until my eyes feel a little better.

-Weather has a huge impact on how I see, and any light sensitive person with a fair amount of remaining vision will probably have the same problem. Light sensitive people will find sunny days much harder, but overcast days can be a little difficult too because the sun tends to diffuse all across the sky through the clouds and the entire sky is bright

-Snow. This isn’t a me thing because I don’t live in this climate and never have to deal with it, but snow days are incredibly disorientating to people with vision issues. It covers any ground land marks you might use to know where you are (sidewalk versus grass versus street)

-Rain puddles are difficult to see and obnoxious to walk through, and your cane just sloshes through them (my mom usually warns me in advance and tells me how to avoid them)

Hobbies and Interests

-We’re actually not bared from many hobbies and activities. There are some very athletic blind people out there who play sports. Molly Burke used to rock climb and teach at a rock climbing gym when she was younger, she also learned to surf at one point. She’s gone bungee jumping and sky diving. There are lots of athletic blind people out there.

-Martial arts is very possible for blind people and certain organizations for the blind teach self defense classes. So, in case any of you were mad at me for saying you shouldn’t write Daredevil, my point is that you shouldn’t give your blind character unrealistic super senses. Your blind character can still kick some ass when needed.

-I play video games. It’s not impossible, although it is very hard for me. I still love it. I personally play Overwatch on PC and I’ve been playing Sims for years

-Reading is something a lot of blind people enjoy, and it’s sometimes described as the blind person’s version of TV, a way for them to see in their minds eyes what they can’t see with TV. So for this reason I have and will continue to tell you to keep your blind readers in mind and not traumatize, kill, assault, or victimize your blind characters for plot.

-We read in different ways. Some only read through audio books, some read through screen readers, some read on their tablets or laptops because they can enlarge font, some read printed books with magnifiers. It all heavily depends on how much sight your character has left and where they like to get their reading material. For example, if you read fanfiction a lot you will probably have to rely on screen readers on your laptops to read to you, but if you like reading published books then you will rely more on audio books.

-We do watch TV and movies, even if we can’t see the screen at all. Some movies and tv shows come with audio description for the blind, and they describe visual details on screen. You have access to lots of examples of this, because Netflix does have audio description for a lot of their shows and movies. Check audio description on your favorite Netflix Original and minimize your browser window to the background to experience movie going the blind way

-We can cook, and sometimes amazingly. Christine Hà is a blind chef who won the third season of master chef and she is amazing. She published her own cookbook too. Some schools for the blind will offer cooking classes as part of their rehabilitation services

-Art. I recommend hopping on google and checking out some blind artists out there. I’m sure you’ll be surprised by a few. There are painters, sculptors, pottery makers, photographers, and many more. My second blind character is learning to draw in school and will over time develop his own cartoonish style of drawing.

-Music. Yeah, I know I said I didn’t want to see the blind music prodigy again, but that’s because I wanted to see you guys come up with your own stories and your own unique characters. There are some wonderful blind musicians and your blind character deciding to learn to play an instrument for the first time during the course of your story would actually be pretty cool.

Theatre. It would be really cool to see some acting blind characters. Doctor Who had Ellie Wallwork, a blind actress play a blind character on their eleventh season. She was amazing and I really loved that episode, it was my favorite in the whole season. (I also adore Jodie Whittaker)

There are so many more hobbies that you can have, even with vision loss. Some might require you to adjust how you do that hobby, but with the right accommodations you can do just about anything really. (Except drive. Please don’t drive.)

Little Enjoyable Things

-Interesting textures. The less your characters see, the more obsessed they get with interesting textures. Hard ceramic mugs with decorative bumps, soft and fluffy blankets, crochet blankets and pillows, tile lines and patterns, any raised surface like slightly raised letters on a book cover, rocks with interesting but not too sharp textures. The more vision loss you have, the more you rely on your hands and your hands become a way of seeing for you.

-I have bought bumpy mugs and soft blankets and textured pillows for exactly this reason. My fingers touched them and just enjoyed the hell out of it.

-Your hands becoming a way for you to see makes you want to touch everything (except faces) Shopping in stores is especially bad because I’m touching everything even though I have quite a bit of sight left.

-There are favorite outfits, purely because what you’re wearing has the comfiest texture

-Soothing sounds and music. I’m not big into ASMR but some people might be. I like quiet background music

-Sometimes I tap my cane on pavement or other hard surfaces just to hear the way it sounds. I can’t echo-locate, most people can’t, but it’s a weird form of sensory

-Loud environments where sounds seem to come from all directions is overwhelming and not enjoyable

Cane Safety Things

-Bring your cane everywhere

-Have a backup cane when travelling long distance in case something goes wrong

-Don’t ever touch my cane. I mean it, don’t! My cane is an extra limb, it is part of my body and I get incredibly nervous when people touch it, especially if I don’t know them well. I only trust a few people to hold my cane with them for even a minute (my mom, maybe my best friend if I’m trying to put on a sweater and can’t hold it the whole time)

-Cane height: your character’s cane should be as tall as their shoulder, at least, or maybe a few inches taller to their chin.

-Because of this I like to lean forward and rest my chin on my cane when I’m bored and waiting for something (like a line)

-In general I just fidget with my cane so much

-You can actually get custom canes. I have a cane with a royal purple tip instead of red. You can get a cane that’s entirely pink or blue or black or whatever. You can add reflective tape to make you more visible.

-Some people prefer long canes that don’t fold, some people prefer folding canes. It’s really a personal decision. I’ve heard long canes are better for tactile feedback because the vibrations when they hit an object or tap the ground are more accurate. I like folding canes because I like storing it away when I don’t need it right away (in class, sitting at a booth in a restaurant, in my backpack) My preference for folding canes goes back to my paranoia of people touching it when I’m not paying attention

-Long canes that don’t fold are not easy to fit into cars and you need to get creative.

Guide Dog Things / Animal Things

-I will include a more serious list about guide dogs in my Part Four about tools and things blind people use to survive (canes, guide dogs, accessibility tools, braille) but for now this is more of a fun list

-I can’t say this from personal experience because I have never had a guide dog, but I’ve had pets and let me tell you, everyone loves spoiling their pets with gifts and hugs and pets

-Soft animals are so fun to pet

-Please tell me when there’s a cat nearby, even if I can’t pet it. I love cats? Wild bunnies too? (I’m super allergic to bunnies, I should never pet them, but I love their existence, they’re so cute)

-Some blind people are not dog people and will not get a guide dog for this reason. They are still valid. People who aren’t dog people are still valid, regardless of ability or disability.

General Safety Things

-Depending on the orientation and mobility skills of your character, they may not feel super comfortable walking out alone, and this comes down to how much training they have, how independent they are, and if they’re generally and anxious person or a self-assured person. Some blind people are great at inner city travel and can do so confidently, others feel less confident (I’m personally not great at crossing busy streets by myself and parking lots are scary to me)

-They may not like bars or nightclubs- this comes down to who your character is. Bars and nightclubs are loud, it’s hard to talk, they’re crowded so using a cane or guide dog isn’t easy or sometimes possible. They’re also poorly lit and if your character has some remaining vision but is night blind, this is especially bad. Because of how preyed upon women are, especially disabled women, your character probably won’t feel safe in a bar or nightclub because they know creeps might target them because they can’t see

-Being blind, you develop this awareness that there are predators out there in the world who see your blindness as something to exploit, that will make you easy to assault or abuse.

NOTE: please don’t use this as an excuse to write a rape as part of your plot. The general consensus of readers has come to the conclusion that using rape as something to further your plot is a terrible thing to do, it is cheap and unoriginal plot development and that you shouldn’t do it. You especially shouldn’t put your blind characters through something traumatic like this. Seriously guys, blind people are coming to your stories because they want to see themselves represented. Seeing themselves victimized will only hurt them. DON’T hurt your readers like that

-Because of this awareness of how vulnerable you can be, you learn to walk in groups and avoid places where predators frequent (bars and nightclubs)

God, this thing is getting long and there are so many other little blindisms that I’ve probably not thought of yet. I will probably make more posts in the future about blindness, including little stories or things I experience.

Follow this blog for more writing advice (and posts about experiencing the blind life)

#writing advice #writing tips #writing #writeblr #blindcharacter #my advice #mine

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #253

hope everyone is staying safe through this quarantine. wash your hands.

Which band do you have more music of than anyone else on your computer? Ozzy. Who’s your favorite philosopher? *shrugs* I don't know any's ideals well. How old were you when you learned how to read? I'm not sure, but I know I was exceptionally young. What’s the coolest Halloween costume you’ve ever worn? I don't think I've ever worn something rather cool. Who’s your favorite painter/artist? If we're talking about well-known, "popular" artists, I'm not sure. Maybe DaVinci. What’s your favorite song lyric- ever? ARE YOU??????????? FOR REAL?????????? Holy FUCK I get goosebumps from lyrics SO easily, this is like impossible. Probably an Otep lyric, though. I really don't like her personally, but goddamn can she write. What’s your dream tattoo if you don’t have it already? I've linked it before, so I'll just remind it's "Denialism" by deviantART's NukeRooster on my entire, upper left arm. I've already gotten her permission (I don't like just... stealing artwork to put on my body), now just comes the day I can pay for it by a top-tier pro. What’s the coolest screen name you’ve ever had? I don't think any have been necessarily "cool." Who do you think was the most badass serial killer? (Real life.) I'm not well-versed in serial killers honestly, but I can say Charles Manson was a C A S E. I think we can all admit he was... interesting. Just the epitome of weird. Most badass fictional serial killer? ig Jason; again, I don't know a lot off the top of my head, but I like him. How many bank accounts do you have? I don't have one. Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Yep. Have you ever found a song that describes your whole life? Parts of it, sure. What kind of car do you drive? I don't drive a car, but Mom's is a... Honda? Kia? Idk. I'm bad with car brands. What kind of car would you like to have? Average size, pretty simple. Burnt orange or red. I know I want one of those screens you look into to see what's behind you when backing up. Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? If so, what’s your favorite thing to eat from there? mmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. So unhealthy, but I will destroy and Oreo Cupfection. Try. That. Stuff. Their milkshakes are also great. Which website do you email from? Outlook. Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Sure, it's nice. Have you ever had the flu? No. What about strep throat? Maybe once? Do you normally have a lot of homework, if you’re still in school? Kinda, yeah. Did you ever enjoy gym class? Fuck no. Even when I was healthy. What is your biggest insecurity? My body. Have you ever painted a room alone? No. How many huge secrets do you have? Huge? Uhhh, none, I think. Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? Yes. Would you rather go out to eat or stay in? I prefer eating out because yummy food, but considering I'm working on losing weight, I avoid it. Do you have any younger siblings? One. Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? To the point of being snow white. Considering my hair is super healthy and bleaching so heavily would destroy it, I'll be avoiding that. I DO want to bleach my hair to do other colors, though. Brown hair sucks. Do you drink vitamin water? No. Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Oh sure, a good handful. The Outsiders probably tops it. Have you ever had a Big Mac before? No, doesn't appeal to me. I don't like veggies on my burgers... despite eating veggie burgers when I was vegetarian lmao. Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? I doubt that. Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No. Do you enjoy reading often? I'm finally back into it!! Lately all I've been wanting to do is READ READ READ. Have you ever had a deadly illness? Well, I consider depression (among other mental illnesses) to be very deadly, but on a literal level, no. I mean I have dormant MRSA, which can kill if active, but it never has been. Most people carry that dormantly anyway, if I remember correctly. Ever had food-poisoning before? No, thankfully. Where did you last eat dinner at? Mom bought Nicole and me Sonic. Have you ever had someone pick you up off the ground & carried you? When I fainted, yes. Are you a flirty person? Not really. A name you hate with a passion? Edward, to name one. Erwin. A lot of old names. What is your favorite type of water (ex. arrowhead)? Essentia mmmmmmmmmmmmm,, Have you ever been to Warped Tour? I WISH. :( Do you know anyone who wears fur? I fucking hope not, because I wouldn't associate with them anymore. When was the last time you were on myspace.com? Damn yo, millennia ago. How often do you cuss? Too much. I mean, I don't even believe "profanity" is a thing by our definition of "that word is magically bad," but still, it's like when people say "like" too much. Have you ever cussed out a teacher? No. What did you think of the movie Juno? I never watched it. How often do you eat meat? Sigh, more than I wish. What grade did you meet your best friend in? We didn't meet in school. Last time you cleaned your room? Couple days back. I'm honestly bad at dusting regularly in here, but that's gotta change with Mom having chemo now. Her immune system will be compromised so this house needs to be as pristine as it can. When you were little, would you have rather watched Cartoon Network or Disney Channel? Disney Channel. We weren't really Cartoon Network kids, actually. It was Disney or Nickelodeon. Do you shave your arms? No. Are you a big fan of the Harry Potter series? Never read a book, never watched any movies; the first one was playing in my presence once, but I paid no attention. How often would say you pulled all-nighters, if you ever do? Shit man, never, nowadays. I don't think I've had one for two years now. My youth is escaping. Has a friend’s boyfriend/girlfriend ever had a problem with you for any reason? I don't think so. How many times a day do you find yourself cracking your joints, if at all? Maybe not even once a day. Only my big toes and upper back can pop. Is there a particular sport you follow on a regular basis? No. Are you 100% over the last person you kissed? No. Do you put ketchup on top of your french fries or on the side? On the side. Who was the last person you talked to in person? Mom. Do you have a dog? Not anymore, thank fuck. Do you like orange juice? Yes. Are you one of those people who obsesses over Hollister? I never liked it. They're not inclusive at all towards fucking NORMAL bodies, nevermind plus size. Apparently even their rules on looks for workers are absolutely horrible. Ashley liked them though, so sometimes I just had to go in with her. If money was no object, would you change your wardrobe? My goth could finally E S C A P E. How do you/did you get to school? My mom drives me. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Four times that I remember off the top of my head. What candy cane flavor is your favorite? MMMMMMMMMM get the pink Starburst kind. Do you get angry when fast food restaurants mess up your order? It's annoying, yes. Angering when you've already driven away, especially when you really wanted something. What was your favorite elective class in high school? Art. Did you ever wish you could be homeschooled? Yes. I was homebound for a little while. Have you ever had a dream so realistic you could’ve sworn it happened? Yes. Do you have any mental disorders? I'm a walking mental disorder, lmao. Y'all know the biggies, and now ADD and especially DPD (dependent personality disorder) are being considered. Do you feel comfortable talking about these disorders, if you have them? Yeah, I really don't care. Where did you go on your last field trip? I want to say to a band competition in high school. Are you able to agree to disagree? Or do you have to have the last word? Yeah, pretty easily. Is there a cover song you like better than the original version? A whole lot, actually. Do you have a hard time talking about sex with the opposite gender? I have a hard time with anyone. Have you ever had major surgery? Major, no. Is there any food you don’t like that a lot of others do? Here in the South, everyone is most surprised when they hear I hate fried chicken. What was the last thing you bragged about? Hm. I'm not sure, actually. I don't make a habit out of doing that. Can you do a backflip? Hell no. Are you listening to anything right now? I have a video up of relaxing tracks from Silent Hill 2 + 3. Great shit. Has anyone ever tried to tell you you were adopted? No. How many doors are in the room you’re in? Two, but one's just the closet door. Have you ever been engaged and broke it off? No. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Yes. Do any of your friends have children? Yep. Is there anything you’re craving right now? Not really. Who got married at the last wedding you attended? A family friend. It was the second wedding I shot. Is happiness something to be achieved and sought after or is it something to be retained and held onto always, no matter what happens? The former. You can't just stay happy when, like, your grandma dies. What gives you a peaceful feeling? Nature. Hearing water and birdsong, specifically. Are you a Toys-R-Us kid? Hell yeah I was. My sisters and I would go crazy if we had the chance to go there. We were SOOOO upset when it closed down. If you believe in Heaven, are there separate heavens for different animals (kittie heaven. dog heaven, bird heaven, etc)? I don't know if I believe in a "heaven," but some sort of peace after death, yes. I believe it's one, unified "heaven." When you sleep next to someone do they fall asleep first usually or do you? They always do considering it takes me ten years to fall asleep. If they do, do you watch them sleep? I have. Not in a creepy way, but rather a "wow I love this person" sorta way. What is your usual breakfast? Usually apple and cinnamon oatmeal What do your salt and pepper shakers look like? They're nothing special. The salt is a blue ceramic, and the pepper one is just what you get from the store. Have you ever had your car towed? I've never had my own car. What band or singer do you believe started rock and roll? I'm pretty sure Elvis is given that credit. Whose voice irritates you like fingernails on a blackboard? The female singer of Mother Mother's voice. Mom and I can't stand her singing. All I songs we enjoy feature almost solely the main singer. I can *tolerate* it in some songs, but. What do you contribute to society? Ha. Do you take naps? Almost daily. Do you have any cavities? Not to my knowledge. Do you believe that there has been a man on the moon? Yes, though I do believe the "first" landing was faked in competition with Russia. It sounds ridiculous, but I'm so serious, look into the theory - there's incredible evidence. Would you ever go into a sex shop? I'd be too self-conscious to. I'd just order online. Let’s just say your school team is on a winning streak. One of the cheerleaders cheers both for your team and the other team during games. Does it make you angry? I don't care enough about sports to even consider how I'd feel. Do you prefer carnivals, festivals, circuses, parades or faires? To be real, I only know the difference between parades and circuses. What even distinguishes the other three from each other. Do you believe in psychic ability or is it a sham? I lean towards no. What is your favorite classic rock song? You CANNOT ask me this question. Classic rock is some of the best music there is.

#survey #quiz #questions

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lifeawoke · 4 years

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ramble on about our fave's kid(s) please

if they had a kid ask meme - open !

i WILL and i will do it for all of them because i love the bezukhovs very much.

name: marya “masha” pyotrovna bezukhova (honestly should just be bezohova in my opinion but whatever)

gender: female

general appearance: dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin. not particularly special looking, like both her parents honestly. nose that goes right down and ends with a curve rather than a point. 3a hair, never a hair out of place (thanks aunt marya). a little tall for a girl, average weight for her height.

personality: marya had a lot more say in masha’s raising so she takes after her a little bit. also, she’s the eldest of the bezukhovs, so she’s more strict and responsible than her siblings. she’s religious, not to the same point as marya, but where her dad’s a spiritual religious person & her mom’s a church-going, pray when something bad happens/you want something religious person, she’s more of both. not very artistic but smart and practical. knows a lot about politics from her dad. caring & protective, especially of her younger siblings. not soft spoken but not loud like her parents might be. will stand her ground though. more of an ambivert than anything, appreciates silence though. i love her

special talents: is the only one of the rostov-bezukhov kids to remember any english & often translates things, mostly political articles, for her parents/family.

who they like better: pierre, he’s a little more serious than natasha. but if she had to choose anyone ever it would be aunt marya or grandma natalya even.

who they take after more: pierre. facts. i kinda explained it earlier.

personal head canon: marya, like her aunt, is a lot like sonya. she has the most potential/reason to marry up or rich and leave the family, maybe even travel, but is far too dedicated to her family to leave before the youngest are grown up.

face claim: i hate this no

next kid !

gender: female

general appearance: a bit of an oddball, light brown hair, hazel, eyes, tanned skin. looks a lot like pierre, despite being a short little thing like natasha. has long arms though, something you wouldn’t really notice unless she points it out (and she will point it out to complain about them). a big mouth like natasha and more brown-ish lips, which she also hates. lisa also has “curly” hair, although its more of a wave so maybe 2b-2c. it suits her well enough, considering hair is mostly pulled back in her generation/time. a lil thicca than the rest of the litter. chubby cheeks that suit her round face. i’m kinda thinking a half-guatamalen e.liza s.canlen.

personality: was raised with a lot more freedom than masha, so a little less prim and proper. this was kinda the point where nat & pierre already knew they were gonna end up popping out kids the way disney pops out remakes so they kind of just went with the flow and got a lot more.. parenty with lisa. this didn’t mean much. she’s affectionate like natasha and passionate like pierre. doesn’t share his interests, though; lisa’s more of an athletic type. is a big complainer, which is sometimes endearing but less so the older she gets. fairly feminine but doesn’t have this obsession with boys and marriage the way her mother did and the way that girls were expected to. gets along well with her sister. more of an extrovert.

special talents: she’s an excellent horse rider, also says fuck side saddles because she heard a queen in denmark did it once and she’s only gotten better since.

who they like better: she’s freest around pierre & she loves that but she relates most to natasha, so it’s 45/55 tie honestly.

who they take after more: natasha; they both like riding (lisa more than nat) and both have personalities that demand to be seen in a mostly endearing way.

personal head canon: growing up lisa was probably closest to nikolai andreyevich, and you can see even as they grow up how close they are. there are even moments when lisa goes to coco before she goes to her own sister about something. it scares some guys off as lisa gets older but she doesn’t really mind.

face claim: if e.liza s.canlen was half gutamalen, i’d say her

the boy !!

gender: male

general appearance: okay you know o.scar i.saac? imagine him young, tall, and SKINNY. except not when he’s young, he’s a chubby kid and it’s the cutest thing. some pictures for reference. he also is p confident looking, if that makes sense. maybe not the long hair but maybe when he’s younger?

personality: mirrors his namesake a lot. young kid that’s just so weirdly mature it’s like... who are your parents bc it’s definitely not nat & pierre. except it is. he gets a lot of extra love from natasha who has been wanting a boy for so long so she could name him after petya. he’s a mama’s boy, #respectwomen, an intellectual like his dad. has a lot of the same problems as his dad in his youth– indecisive & sometimes hedonistic. i mean he grew up rich it does things to you. but i love him dearly. and he does find his purpose earlier than pierre did, finds love in government stuff, which he half gets from his dad and half from his older sister, who cared a l o t for him. is super close with marya, gets along well with lisa. he isn’t very sentimental though, although he has a soft side for his mom and eldest sister, he can be too objective for some people. an introvert but not shy.

special talents: he can knock out a novel a day if he wants to; his attention span is a mile long

who they like better: oh natasha. she loves that kid & he loves her

who they take after more: pierre ! petya admires pierre for sure and i can imagine pierre feels a lil more comfortable teaching his son about puberty nd sex and stuff than he does his daughter so i imagine they speak freely to each other

personal head canon: petya was even going to run off into the army like petya ilyich without knowing that his uncle did the same thing, but natasha caught him and explained to him what happened to her brother & he’s been jaded by the idea of fighting in a war ever since.

face claim: o.scar i.saac but half russian bhsbdj

the last one! in my head they have a lot more but we shall discuss them at a different time.

gender: female

general appearance: an oddball again, but less so. dark brown eyes and straight blonde hair. a skinny, long face and a very unique nose, one you don’t ever see– i’m thinking like a.licia v.ikander’s nose. it adds character to her already freckled face. her skin is many shades lighter than her father’s but she tans well and often. very feminine in appearance and dress but looks shy. very skinny, almost sickly skinny like her mom is. average height.

personality: more of the observing type. spoiled but not necessarily bratty (at least not compared to most rostovs growing up). enjoys the arts, especially performance ones, but doesn’t really enjoy being a part of them. she’s insecure like lisa is but isn’t as vocal about it, which gives this sad kind of air to her. she’s more religious like marya, almost soley because she spends the most time with marya. lives life slowly. very chill but clearly lacks purpose. not very comfortable with who she is as a person. ends up being very close to her parents because she would rather spend time with them than other kids.

special talents: she’s an excellent chef because she spends a lot of time in the kitchen (usually with grandma natalya until she died, then just on her own going through old recipes)

who they like better: probably natasha because she admires her outgoingness.

who they take after more: pierre ! doesn’t have his passion but has his slight awkwardness.

personal head canon: yeva grew up watching her father a lot, but felt the most embarrassed when he’d say something that wasn’t well-received. this proclivity towards second-hand embarrassment stops her form doing a lot & putting herself out there.

face claim: a.licia v.ikander’s nose on a much paler, freckled, and blonde a.dria a.rjona. it sounds weird but i think it?? kinda works for what i’m trying to get across

#soughtlove #♥ – » pyotr kirillovich bezukhov. trsl. петр кириллович безухов. » soughtlove.#their BABIES #save #i love them and their childrens

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