#i self project in a lot of shit especially the musicals yes there is a lot of self projection in misfits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lebrookestore · 3 years

Text

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x female reader

Themes: SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you.

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him.

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days.

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you.

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way.

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it.

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well.

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions.

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

To: y/[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning/evening,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

TRSOM

You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality.

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10: my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU

He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed.

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine.

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell.

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way.

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself.

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you.

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you.

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips.

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you.

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance.

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree.

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked.

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you.

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily.

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down.

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him.

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

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charlie-rulerofhell · 3 years

Text

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

#måneskin #maneskin #måneskin interview #my stuff #i'm sorry if someone already translated it but i was working on this for the past 3 hours now so i'm still gonna share it #i know most of it is not very new but there were some quite interesting details in there #and it's just always great to read about those four dorks so i wanted to share it with all of you who wanted to read it but couldn't #enjoy and please ignore any possible mistakes i didn't have the time to proof-check everything

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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

Text

Day 29: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 4)

Aaaand, part 4, the finale!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 29: You have a telepathic link with your soulmate until the two of you meet.

Content warnings: discussion of conversion therapy/after effects, PTSD, food mentions, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia, mentions of the foster system/abuse (mental, emotional, neglect, past eating disorder), minor self harm/blood, mentions of dissociating.

Word count: 5.1k

Despite Roman’s claims that being around other people would only distract him, and he didn’t want to have to walk to the library every time he had homework, Patton’s constant pleading eventually broke him down. Now, much to his roommate’s delight, they spent every night in the middle of the study floor in the library, and Roman found that he actually looked forward to it. Sometimes someone he knew would walk by, and give him a valid reason to take a short break, and having other people around somehow motivated him to work harder. He was starting to understand the appeal of the place.

Now, Patton and him were spending their afternoon there between classes, both working on their own projects and sharing a bag of popcorn twists. It was the only oil soaked snack that didn’t leave much residue on their fingers. Roman was deep in thought, struggling to remember an especially flowery Shakespeare monologue for a mock audition next week, when Patton kicked his leg under the table.

“What, Pat?” He took another moment to finish the sentence before he tore his eyes away from the book, surprised at his roommate’s barely contained excitement.

“You’ve been humming for half an hour!”

He hadn’t even noticed. He tended to do it a lot without realizing; humming along to his soulmate’s music. Ever since he’d come back almost a year ago, an occurrence he’d never had explained but held onto with fondness, Roman’s heart jumped every time his music played. It was just like old times, their old system immediately reinstated, and more than once he’d found himself singing along to the melodies in his head. Patton knew this, and could probably tell by the genre whether Roman was listening to his soulmate’s songs, or just had his own earworm.

“No, no, no, I like your humming! That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the-”

“The guy behind you has his earbuds loud enough to hear!”

Roman strained his ears, and yes, he could barely hear the music coming from behind him. He definitely hadn’t noticed before, too deep in thought to notice something so trivial. But Patton was always on high alert, never able to keep his mind on one thing at a time.

“Okay, but what does that ha-”

“You’ve been humming the same songs as he’s been listening to for half an hour, Ro! I think he’s your soulmate!”

Roman’s eyes widened and he spun around, effectively dropping his book onto the ground. Yeah, if he concentrated, he could tell that the song in his head was the same as the one just audible through the other’s earbuds.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!”

That’s all the convincing Roman needed. He jumped to his feet and rounded the other table so he was face to face with the stranger and knocked on the table a couple times. When he made eye contact, he thought he saw fear in the other’s face, but that couldn’t be right. Roman was not intimidating. The man at the table reached up to pop out one of his earbuds.

“Hello lovely, I have a question for you,” Roman purred, dropping onto his elbows on the table.

“I- I don’t-”

Apparently that counted as a meeting, because in that moment, the music in Roman’s head faded into nothingness. And he could tell it wasn’t just the music being paused. He was left with a neutral emptiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, a silence that was rare, and an innate knowledge that it had happened: their link was no longer necessary and had dissipated. Roman grinned wide, barely concealing a squeal.

“You’re my soulmate!”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the man at the table to get up and sprint out of the building at full speed.

“Stay here, Ro,” Patton was suddenly at his side, laying a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go after him. I don’t know what just happened but I don’t want it to happen again.”

Patton scooped up the other man’s things from the table and jogged out the library door.

-----

Virgil didn’t know where he was going; he hadn’t planned on running out of the library. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to run into his soulmate. And he knew that was his soulmate, and not just some weird coincidence. Because the moment they’d locked eyes, it was as if something in his mind had snapped, like a rubber band that had always been there but the pressure was so constant he didn’t notice it there until it was gone. Their bond had snapped; it was no longer necessary, because he’d met his soulmate.

He recognized the guy, just barely. They were in the same first year math class, a course often taken by upperclassmen (probably like his soulmate) because they’d put off getting a math credit until their final years. Logan had warned Virgil of that when he was choosing his first year courses, and so he was safely getting it out of the way so he could focus on his major in the coming years.

His breathing was choppy and strained as he tried to calm down his panic attack, dropping onto the ground under a large tree. He couldn’t keep running lest he collapse and draw more attention to himself, and that was far worse than anything he could imagine. Fighting the urge to scratch at his skin, he buried his head in his hoodie clad arms, fumbling with one hand to free his phone from his pocket.

It’s actually a guy, it’s a guy, he’s gay, wrong wrong wrong-

No, not wrong. It’s not wrong.

Yes it is, it’s going to hurt, you’re going to hurt, wrong wrONG WRONG!

His hands were shaking far too hard to text but he tried anyways, begging Janus to come pick him up early. Logan wouldn’t be done work for another couple hours, and usually Virgil would be fine just doing homework until his dad was ready to drive them home, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being on campus much longer.

“Hey, kiddo?”

Virgil’s head jerked up just as he clicked send, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again. It wasn’t the guy… his soulmate… but someone else he hadn’t met before, panting.

“Heya, my name’s Patton! You ran out without your stuff, so I brought it!”

Oh, he was holding his backpack, and his folder under one arm. Virgil was just trying to encourage his legs to move, to stand so he could take his things, when the stranger dropped into the grass in front of him. He flinched.

“Here ya go,” He pushed it towards him like a child trying to coax out a scared cat, “I’m so sorry me and Ro scared you. He just gets over excited sometimes. I promise he’s actually very gentle.”

Virgil stared, pulling in a halting breath.

“The guy who ran up to you, that’s Roman. I’m his roommate, by the way. I’m Patton. Did I introduce myself? Doesn’t matter. I’m a third year psychology major. Roman’s in third year too, music and theatre major.”

He should probably introduce himself too, but his hands were frozen, clamped around his phone, and he found his voice wasn’t cooperating. That didn’t deter the other dude, though.

“Here, I wrote out both of our numbers. Roman feels super bad for scaring you, so you can take your time, if you want.” He delicately placed a ripped piece of notebook paper on the backpack between them, “His is the first one. But I put mine in there too, so you can text me if you want to talk. The more friends, the better.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed, alerting him of Janus’ response.

“I’ll let you be, okay? Remember to text!” With an exuberant wave, he dashed back to the library. Virgil read Janus’ panicked message, asking what had happened, in a bit of a daze. His dad agreed to come get him, so he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

-----

Janus had asked him not to go into his room when he was so worked up, instead giving him free reign of the living room while the older restarted the dinner he’d abandoned in favor of picking his son up. He’d turned on the TV for Virgil, changing the channel to a nature documentary, given Virgil his favorite weighted blanket, and left him with strict orders to call him if he started spiraling or needed a hug.

The distraction had worked for a while, the soothing voice of the narrator almost lulling him to sleep, until his racing brain had come to the conclusion that this was the worst thing to ever happen in the history of ever and that he was going to die alone. He’d been a little hopeful that his soulmate would be a girl, to somewhat appease his trauma, but life was never that easy. A part of him had also been a little miffed about that hope, because as much as he liked to pretend, he had a preference for boys. A big preference. And his soulmate was cute.

“Everything okay, Virgil?” Janus called through the pass through window into the kitchen, taking his eyes off his food preparation to watch his son’s pacing.

“Yup!” He lied, picking and scratching at the skin of his hands out of his dad’s view. The pain settled him a little, giving him something he could control, but he knew he’d get a figurative slap on the wrist for it later. A concerned slap, not an angry one. Maybe more of ‘a cuddle on the couch and wrap the little patches of broken skin and an update with his counsellor’. So not really a slap. At all. As it usually went.

Everything was wrong. What kind of shit first impression had he given his soulmate? Getting up and running away like an actual child? And that was only part of it. He was damaged goods, a broken person, who needed more help and reassurance than any other person. How could he explain to his soulmate that he was the cause of his problems without making him feel guilty? That wasn’t the life the man had signed up for, wasn’t the soulmate burden he’d wanted. He would want someone easy, someone who wouldn’t have panic attacks when they got shocked by a door knob, who didn’t stop eating when they were scared, who pressed pause on life when he woke up in a dissociating headspace. He couldn’t say that to him. He’d lost everything, that vague musical connection to an invisible soulmate, that had given him a subtle hope. It had been a quiet illusion, a promise that he’d be fine if it were never fulfilled. Knowing there was someone out there, providing him music, had been enough. But now…

“Virgil, hold these for me.”

When had Logan gotten home? He put his hands out obediently, clenching the fingers over the ice cubes placed in each palm. The sensation startled him and sent a shiver up his spine.

“Four, seven, eight. Ready?”

He followed the breathing pattern eagerly, feeling the curls of anxiety in his stomach slowly settle into butterflies. When he was breathing normally, an overwhelming sense of dizziness almost knocked him over. Logan took his arm and led him to the couch.

The next moment, Janus was kneeling in front of him, rubbing disinfectant into his few bloody scratches, the melting water dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet.

“I should have noticed,” he murmured as he stuck a couple bandaids onto each hand, refusing to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself, Janus. I don’t think it was happening for too long,” Logan assured, running a hand down Virgil’s spine. “Did this have to do with the reason you left school early today?”

Virgil nodded.

“Are you nonverbal?”

“No,” he choked, clearing his throat, “Just dry throat.”

“I got it,” Janus leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil leaned into Logan’s side, the hand on his back traveling to wrap around his shoulder comfortingly. The last drops of the ice cube hit the carpet, and he dried his hands off on his jeans. “I met my soulmate today.”

“I see,” Logan said. For the umpteenth time, Virgil was beyond grateful that Logan was an expert at masking reactions. It made difficult conversations easier.

“It’s a guy.”

“How did that go?”

“I ran out of the library and had a panic attack. His roommate brought me my stuff and gave me their numbers. I made an idiot out of myself.”

Logan was quiet, giving Virgil a little squeeze. A water glass was pressed into his hands and Virgil downed the whole thing, passing it back to Janus, who placed it on the coffee table.

“I think… I think I’m magnifying. Maybe.” He described his thoughts that led to his spiral as quickly as possible, feeling slightly pleased when Logan agreed with his hypothesis.

“You are definitely magnifying. Good job for recognizing that, Virgil. You don’t even know him, much less what he thought of your interaction.”

“What’s our next step?” Janus spoke up, resting a hand on Virgil’s knee and rubbing it with his thumb.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you sleep on it, and message him tomorrow?”

Virgil thought about for a second before shaking his head even harder, “No. I have class with him tomorrow, and we’re getting a study guide for a test. I can not miss it. But what if he comes up to me, or wants to talk, and I embarrass myself again, and-”

His dads both hushed him at the same time and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against Logan’s side. “What do I do?”

“You could message him tonight,” Janus drawled.

“Are you crazy?” He shrieked, “No! What would I even say? ‘Hey, you freaked me out today, sorry for running like a lunatic’?!”

“Why not explain the cause for your hasty escape?” Logan piped in.

“That’s way too much to load onto him as a first conversation.”

“Not all the gory details, just a vague explanation. That’s how I started talking to Logan,” Janus stated, adjusting his position on the floor. “If he’s your soulmate, Virge, he’ll be okay to deal with this. It’ll come out eventually, and if something else happens, it will be nice for him to have some context.”

Virgil groaned. “I hate when you make sense.”

“We can help you construct an adequate message.” Logan squeezed him again, meeting Janus’ eyes with a small smile.

“Fine.” Virgil snarled, pulling out his phone and the two numbers, typing the first one into his ‘new contact’ list. “Okay, what do I say?”

-----

V: Hey, I’m Virgil. We met earlier today. In a manner of speaking.

R: OMG, hi! I’m Roman. I am SO sorry for startling you!

V: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.

R: I still feel bad DX

“He feels bad, what do I do?!”

“I would suggest explaining the reason you ran off to ease his concerns.”

“Me too. But ask first, and don’t give more details than you’re comfortable with.”

V: Can I be brutally honest for just a second?

R: Should I be nervous? Haha go ahead!

V: I was forced into conversion therapy about a year back, and I still carry a lot of the trauma with me. That’s why I ran. It was just gut instinct.

“He’s not responding, oh god, he’s going to block me, why isn’t he responding?!”

“I assume this news would take a moment to process. Focus on your breathing, Virgil. Don’t magnify.”

“You also sent it, like, ten seconds ago.”

R: Holy shit, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.

“...That’s not what I expected.”

“This is a regular reaction from a human being with even a lick of common sense, Virgil.”

“Seconded.”

V: It’s okay, I have a really great support system now.

R: That’s good. I’ve never experienced anything like that, so I can only imagine how hard that was.

R: I don’t expect you to answer if you don’t want to or don’t know, so please don’t feel pressured, but do you know what kind of soulbond we have? Is it platonic?

“Shit, fuck, who do I answer that?”

“With the truth, I’d imagine. Do you have an answer to his question?”

“Remember what I told you, kid. Your own pace.”

“Logan, if I explain it, can you put it into words? Please?”

V: I’m not averse to a possible romantic relationship in the future, but at the moment I am still learning to become comfortable with myself, as I have negative connections to that part of my identity that can become problematic if not properly worked through at my own pace.

R: Give me a couple seconds to decode that

V: My dad wrote it, he’s a prof. I have both of them helping me not freak out right now.

R: You might want to date one day, but you need to take it slow because of your trauma.

V: Uhm… yeah. I could have said it like that.

R: Is talking to me upsetting you? We can always talk another time.

V: No, I’m okay.

R: Okay, then as far as I’m concerned, we move at your pace. That’s not an issue for me at all.

“I… oh. He’s… wow.”

“I agree with your sentiment.”

“I like this boy already.”

“DAD!”

R: Your dad’s a prof?

V: One of them is. He teaches at our school, Prof Sanders. 4th year chemistry?

R: Oh shit. I’m in his class.

V: Lol he thinks he knows you

R: You have two dads?

V: Yep

R: That’s so cool. I’d really love to meet them.

V: Wow, we met today and you’re already wanting to meet my parents?

R: Heeey, I want to meet them as a FRIEND.

V: My dad says after the semester’s over, you’re free to come by

One at a time, Virgil’s dads left him on the couch with an ear to ear grin, Janus to reheat dinner and Logan following him just so he could cling to his husband's waist as he moved around the kitchen. Neither of them wanted to disturb the little bubble their son was in.

-----

In the weeks following, they’d started to sit together in the one class they shared. Virgil had begun to join him and Patton on their nightly library study sessions, and after some more gentle convincing, had given in to sitting with their whole friend group during meals at the cafeteria. He was growing more comfortable with Roman, no doubt about that.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting off an anxiety attack as he waited by the door to get picked up for their first outing alone.

He kept checking his phone and glancing out the peephole as Janus ran calming fingers through his hair. Virgil leaned into the touch instinctively, consciously slowing his breathing as Janus hummed. Logan was watching him from the entrance to the hall, leaning on the kitchen door frame. There wasn’t much he could do, but dammit if he wasn’t going to watch his son go off on the most anxiety inducing situation of all of their lives.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Janus muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve been friends with him for a while now, and he said there were no expectations. You’re in total control here.”

“What if I have a flashback, or a panic attack, or go nonverbal or something? He’s going to freak the fuck out and then all the work will be for noth-”

Logan spoke up. “You’re worried about things that may not even happen. And besides, haven’t you spoken to Roman about these things already?”

“A bit. Not in detail,” he whispered.

“I would suggest you do so, today if possible. It will make any possible situations that arise easier and less jarring to deal with.”

Virgil looked up at Janus, a pleading look in his eyes.

“He’s right, kid. The sooner you get it out of the way, the better.”

There was a knock at the door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin. To his disdain, Janus backed away until he was next to Logan, gesturing at the door with a small smile. Virgil growled out a curse and opened the door, the scowl on his face melting into a sickeningly authentic smile.

“How’s my favorite emo? Hi Mr. Sanders, hey Prof.”

“Hello.”

“Salutations.”

“Your favorite emo?” Virgil snarked, pulling on his jacket. It wasn’t cold, not in the slightest, but he’d rather have the extra layer.

“You’re the only emo I know, so the choice is easy.”

“By process of elimination, doesn’t that also imply I’m your least favorite emo too?”

“Don’t start this again, Mr. Son-of-a-professor.”

“I’ll start it if I want to!”

The door closed behind them with one final wave to his parents, and the house was quiet. Janus leaned into Logan’s waiting arms, resting his head on the other’s collar bone.

“He’s all grown up.”

“That he is, my love.”

-----

Virgil smirked as Roman set out a large cliche picnic blanket, gesturing for him to sit. He did, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees as the other began to unload the basket.

“Okay, so for sandwiches, I have turkey, peanut butter and jelly, and ham. Patton made me bring apple slices because he’s a dad, but I’m sure we can convince the ducks to eat them.”

To prove his point, a group of ducks paddled out from under a weeping willow half submerged in the creek.

“I like apples,” Virgil defended, grabbing a slice from the open container and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “How many people were you intending to feed with that much food?”

Roman pouted from behind a container of potato salad. “I had to show off my food skills, duh.”

“You made that?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows as Roman set out a tin of mini quiches and a smaller one stacked with brownies and cookies.

“The cookies were Patton’s, but he insisted I take some. And I would have bought more, but…” He tipped the basket towards Virgil, revealing the bottom absolutely filled with different canned drinks and water bottles. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.”

Virgil actually did laugh as he stretched forward to snag a Doctor Pepper, taking another apple slice as he sat back.

“Do you have a sandwich preference?” Roman asked, choosing a Sprite for himself.

“Turkey looks good.” Virgil said before his choice paralysis could come into play, breathing a sigh of relief as Roman handed one of the sandwiches to him. The less stress he added to his own life, the better.

Roman had been right to bring an assortment of food, because dammit, he was a really good chef. Virgil was nervous to try a quiche, since he’d never had them before and the texture was odd to him, but Roman assured that if he didn’t like it, he’d eat it instead. Apparently he wasn’t eeked out by germs. After a nibble though, Virgil ate almost half the tin. Who knew cold eggs could be good? Roman took the ham sandwich, and they split the PB&J. The ducks were more than pleased to be given Roman’s half of the apple slices but Virgil refused to share, since fresh fruits were still a treat after a life of preserves. The younger wasn’t a huge fan of the potato salad, so Roman eagerly finished it, seemingly more excited to move onto the desserts but not wanting to leave any leftovers.

They were just finishing up the frankly absurd amount of cookies and brownies when Roman broke their casual bickering, chasing a chocolate chip bite with a long swig of Sprite and tossing another apple to their swarm of awaiting ducks.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself, Virge.”

“What do you want to know?” Virgil replied, leaning back on his hands.

“Anything, really. Childhood, siblings, favorite color, darkest fear.”

“Quite a spectrum, there.” There was a lot he could talk about, but he felt it might be better to get the bigger things out of the way. Janus was sort of the leading expert on this kind of thing, so his advice had probably been sound. He brushed his hands together to get the crumbs off them as he spoke, “Okay, so I grew up in the foster system.”

Roman tried to hide his wince. “Ouch. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

“It’s fucked,” Virgil drawled, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, “I spent most of my time in a group home, though, because I was called ‘difficult’. No one wanted to deal with my ass.”

“Why?”

“Mmm, ran away, didn’t listen, talked back, antagonized any biological kids.”

“So like, a normal teenager?” The last apple slice was sacrificed to the feathered hoard.

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, but I came with a receipt. And I kind of liked the group home more.”

“How many kids were in the home?”

“Never more than fifteen. It was a big home. But they circulated, and I was like a housecat. Never gone for more than a month.”

“Jeez,” Roman sighed, taking a sip of his soda.

“My foster homes weren’t better.”

“Oh?” It was a subtle encouragement to keep talking, but now it was getting into territory that Virgil liked to avoid.

“One of my foster houses was really neglectful, forgot to give us food, didn’t let us do laundry, that kind of stuff. Gave me a wicked ED. I was twelve.”

Roman grimaced.

“My next one was more emotionally and mentally manipulative. I was kind of made into a babysitter for their younger bio kids. I had to get them ready for school, make them dinner, just basically be a parent. After I ran away from them, they started having trouble placing me. I was older, had a shitty record, kind of a left over. I mean, I deserved it. I was a dick.”

“You were a kid, Virgil.”

“A kid who chose to make his own life harder.” He shrugged, “That’s why I was placed into… that home. They were a last resort place for other ‘trouble kids’.”

Virgil took a deep breath and, with Janus’ words in his mind, began to explain his attempted conversion; the slip of tongue that led to the placement, the verbal abuse, food deprivation, electroshock therapy, the snuck antipsychotics, forced isolation, ending with the day the wife had called the police behind her husband’s back out of guilt and he was rescued.

Roman was quiet for a long minute after he finished talking, staring entranced at the can in his hands. The ducks had dispersed during Virgil’s story, upset at the lack of food.

“I…”

Virgil waited for him to get up and leave, to say with false apologies that he didn’t think they would work out, that the connection was wrong. Because who would want to deal with him, his stupid trauma? But the man next to him didn’t move except to breathe, and Virgil took that as an invitation to continue, his tone quieter.

“I was super out of it for a while. Honestly, I don’t remember the rescue, or like a solid month after that, except for snippets here and there. The drugs were fucky. And then my social worker, god bless her heart, found Janus and Logan. Janus was in CT too for a while when he was younger, so they took me in. Took a long time, but I opened up to them, but by then I was eighteen. They still insisted on adopting me, though, and there’s absolutely no convincing Logan once he’s made his mind up, so… they did.” He waved his hands around a little.

“Three months,” Roman blurted out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch.

“What?”

“Were you in ther-... CT for three months?”

“Two and a bit, why?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he realized the implications, and his heart froze.

“You were gone for three months. I thought you died, or… I don’t even know.” Roman looked like he was about to cry, watching Virgil imploringly. Him going MIA must have affected his soulmate more than he’d thought.

“Two months of CT, and then another one before I got a new phone. I’m…” All the guilt he’d felt at the time came rushing back, the reminder of his soulmate’s music dwindling to almost nothing and him being helpless, “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. That must have been…”

“No, Virgil, you don’t get to apologize. That was not your fault.” He reached out a hand as if to grab Virgil’s and immediately pulled back, wringing his fingers instead. “Sorry, my choice of comforting is physical. But I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Virgil choked out, running his hands through his hair.

“Can you look at me?”

He did, taking a shuddering breath. He was moments away from a panic attack and he was not looking forward to that disaster.

“You were being- quite literally- tortured for months. You were abused in ways that shouldn’t be legal, and you came out the other side stronger. Frankly, I’m amazed at your perseverance. You’re amazing.”

Simultaneously, Virgil felt a hot blush rise to his ears, and a sharp jolt run through his arms into his chest. He jerked violently, tipping over his own soda onto the grass.

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” Roman gasped, reaching over to pluck up the can before it could spill more. It was already half empty, thank goodness.

“No, I just… do that. Sometimes. From… CT. Kind of like ghost shocks, I guess.” Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole, he wondered. He hadn’t done that jerk thing in front of anyone in so long. The last time had been in front of his now-parents, and they’d quickly grown used to it. He’d grown used to their own contact very soon and his twitches had stopped after he was accustomed to it, but it had never been directed towards him, and he had a feeling he’d need time to stop his impulse reactions.

“And me calling you amazing…”

“Triggered them. It’s an exposure thing though, so I’ll just need to get used to it. Don’t blame yourself.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright white flashes of light burst into his vision. Suddenly, he was exhausted.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Roman asked, already packing up their picnic basket. Virgil nodded, his social meter drained, and all ability to be a civil person was quickly deteriorating. His therapist said that would also begin to heal after a while.

Roman was an absolute angel though, letting the silence linger so Virgil could cradle his slowly growing headache, even opening the door of his car like a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Virgil rested his head against the seat and let a tiny smile tug at his lips. It would be a long process to retrain his brain (in theory, he was okay with being in a relationship with a man, but actually doing it? Infinitely harder), but for once, he was actually looking forward to the process.

Would you guys like a collection of one shots surrounding Virgil’s gradual warming up to his new family, a decent mix of angst and fluff? I have some ideas.

Thanks for reading! Now, a taglist.

@sapphic-satan

@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

@chimneychimney

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@falsemood

@wtf-casper

@cpmansion

@killjoyjay

@fandomfan315

@anxious-darkwolf

@eternalmoonlight19

@winterwynd

@espepspes

@ironwoman359

@willowaudreykeyes

@mycatshuman

@weweregoddesses

@im-an-anxious-wreck

@imknittingahat

@surohsopsisofclouds

@korsaromantic66

@astraheart04

@quartz-z

@mikalya12

@koalas-in-coffee

@isabelle-stars

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@existentialeggdogg

@pumpkinminette

@coffeeflavoredtears525600

@wyvern-tales

@heyhalloween

@grayson-22

@bullet-tothefeels

@mostlikelytokillyouwithaspoon

@lovelivingmydreams

@sarcasmremovedsoul

@crofterskinnie

@blissbiscuit

@baka-monarch

@lostspacecat

@green-call

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #sanderssides #sanderssidesau #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #ts soulmate au

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deniigi · 3 years

Note

sorry to bother again but i am a freshman in college and i am v stressed

how did you get through it and how do I make myself not want to drop every single class i’m in every semester

how does one take more than 5 classes at a time

i am in midterm hell and i am Scared™️

oh you mean, ‘Matt, please do your actual literal job on main?’ Because this is sort of my actual literal job, friend. So don’t worry. I’ve got you.

So first thing’s first, when planning future semesters:

I would recommend against taking more than 5 classes at a time. Mathematically, it is not great for you. If you have to take more than 5, plan on doing 1-2 to during summer school. You won’t be behind. You’re fine. I swear.

Example for future class planning: For every class, look at the number of units/credits it is. That is around the number of hours that you’re gonna spend in that class a week. Now multiply that by 2. That’s about the number of hours total you’re gonna spend on that class in a week (both in class and doing homework).

That means that a 3 unit/credit class = 6 hours of work per week.

You have five of those classes. That means that you’re doing around 30hrs of school work a week. If you have six of those classes, you’re practically working a fulltime job with little to no pay and benefits.

End story: Do not take more than 5 classes a semester if you can help it.

If you can, don’t take more than 4 classes in your major per semester, either. You will die. Use electives and general education classes as your fourth or fifth class to lighten your load and give yourself something that you enjoy and know you can pass for sure. That will give you some breathing room and will help you maintain your GPA.

Coping with Overload now:

At this point in the semester, it’s a little late to be dropping classes, so what you’re going to do instead is to schedule the fuck out of your time.

You need to pick and stick to set dates/times for completing coursework and midterm projects for the next week or two. People do this in different ways, but generally speaking, people will assign projects/homework to certain days.

Example: Monday is Chemistry homework night because assignments are due on Wednesday. You only work on Chemistry on Monday. You finish the assignment and turn it in.

Tuesday is English homework day because assignments are papers and take 3 days to complete due to requiring 3 different steps: research, outlining, and writing. You do the whole researching process on Tuesday and do a basic outline. You will fill out the outline a little more on Wednesday and will then write the whole paper on Thursday so that you can turn it in then, before the Friday deadline.

On Wednesday, after you’re satisfied with your English outline, you will set that aside because Wednesdays are Math days. You will do the Math homework and/or study for 2-3 hours until your brain feels like soup. Then you will stop, do something relaxing for 30min, and then decide if you need to do more studying. If you do, repeat the study + self-care process. Go to sleep at a reasonable hour (before 2am if possible)

Do the same thing for your other 2 classes, assigning each a day and a specific task or set of tasks to complete on each day. Don’t give yourself more than 3 tasks per class/study session, because that’s how you get overwhelmed and into an anxiety spiral.

Apply self-care (breaks, snacks, drinks, music) liberally while doing assignments.

Other tips: figure out how you study.

If you study best in a group, grab some folks from your class and form a study group. If you are in STEM especially, it is expected that you will form study groups. This is how studying happens in STEM, medical, and law fields. It is nigh impossible to do all that labor on your own. Yes, I am serious. Make a study group, even if that’s you and 1 other person.

If you can find a study guide, take it to study group or block out an hour or two and do the whole thing. If you don’t have a study guide, make one yourself out of your homework/assignments and test yourself with flashcards or writing out definitions and forcing yourself to explain the different parts of cycles you learned in class.

If you are in a humanities/liberal arts major, you need to figure out if you study best by reviewing your notes, by re-listening to the lectures, by explaining concepts to others, or by writing it all out as if it was an essay.

If you need to write an essay and are stuck with where to start, reach out for help from a tutor if your school has one, or just start by doing 15 minutes of brainstorming to figure out what you feel about the topic and what evidence/ideas would work to answer it. Pick apart the prompt to see what it is truly asking you to do, write out the components of the prompt separately on a separate page and start answering those question as if they were short answers.

Then when you’ve got that, you can start noting bits of evidence to add to support your points and BAM, just like that, you’ve got an outline. Write a thesis statement at the top that addresses the Who, What, Why and How You’re Going to Prove it of your essay and you’re ready to go.

Example thesis statement: “The world represented in Oh God, How do I Study by Matt Deniigiq includes references to time management, course planning, and big-picture thinking to emphasize the broader theme that this one shit semester is not going to destroy student’s lives. This is evident in the droll humor used throughout the piece and the fact that the author keeps halting in paragraphs to answer emails from frazzled students.”

**yes, your thesis can be 2 sentences long. It’s allowed, I promise.

Know that these 5 classes will not end your life.

Honestly, like, speaking as someone who does this for a living, at public schools anything higher than a C is grand. It’s not usually required for you to list your GPA on job apps later on (I’ve never been asked). No one actually cares about your GPA in social situations.

As long as my students have higher than Cs in their classes and they aren’t like, nursing students, I’m cool with their progress, so give yourself a break if you can.

Also know that getting a low grade in 1 class as a freshmen doesn’t actually fuck up your GPA as bad as you think it will. Like, there’s a lot of complicated shit around this that I could go into, but generally speaking, if you fail one class (and I mean FAIL-fail it. Fs and D-s. None of this ‘UwU I got a C so I failed’), then by the time you’re a junior or a senior, if you haven’t failed additional shit, that F/D- is barely going to shift your GPA.

Like, we’re talking .1 shifts around then. Maybe a .3 shift if you’re at the end of your sophomore year. That’s the diff between a 2.5 and a 2.4. Or a 3.3 and a 3.0. You can make that up almost entirely by taking another round of classes and getting As and Bs (again, the mechanics are complicated, so you’re just gonna have to take my word here).

So yeah, shoot for Cs or higher and know that these classes aren’t the end-all be-alls of your lives.

(For context, if I get a student with a 3.0 or higher, I’m fucking ELATED. I’m not even joking. Y’all will be fine.)

Start with these tips and get back to me if you want something more specific. I do this all day, every day.

#study skills #long post #I am literally answering 10+ email long chains right now of students asking similar questions

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

Text

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)

Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda. As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing. He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna. That's the story Nero is about to discover.

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past

Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you. Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music. Never thought he would come back here one day. His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries. Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle. “You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.” Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda. “What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings. “Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.” “ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided. “Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be. “I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.” “Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding

sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him. “Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!” If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.” Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was. “Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion. “So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his. “My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance. “Do you ever think of her?” New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash. “The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you

never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out. “ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”

***

Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what. “Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?” “Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile. “Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.” “When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?” Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!” “And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.” “ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.” And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that. “Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did. He knew he was. God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue. “I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.” “ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there. “ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes. “Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.

“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.” Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were? “Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but … “ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up. “Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should. He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was. Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all. “Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage. “Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance. “ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits. “ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence. “ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference. “ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son. “ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico

shouted, proud to be right. “ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them. “ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.” “ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive. “To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.” In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?” That E meant a lot to Vergil.

REFERENCES: ¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later. ² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful. ³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello. ⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore. ⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid. Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

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gwendeeagain · 3 years

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Compelling Characters, and why I like Gakushuu Asano

I saw a really fun post by Zaina (@dreaming-of-assclass) asking why people like Gakushuu and I thought it was super fun! I realized I have a lot to say about that little shit, and I didn’t want to hijack the original post because I’m about to spam, so is why I like Gakushuu Asano, and a mini commentary on what makes an intersting character, interesting

I think I’ll put this under a read-more because it’s actually kinda long.

(Note: I don’t actually know things. This is just me rambling)

The sympathy factor, or: the sad backstory effect. This is pretty self explanatory - we’re empathetic creatures, and having a sad backstory trope is a pretty quick and easy way to get us to sympathize with a character. You don’t have to necessarily have previously liked/paid attention to a character to feel bad for them, but feeling bad for someone is a first step to emotionally connecting with them. And we feel bad for Gakushuu, right? When he shows vulnerability and weakness, cowering in front of the Principal beating his friends bloody or being slapped across the room. We say, aww, poor boy. The concept of someone facing adversary and getting back up just tugs at people’s heartstrings.

And then we have character development: the redemption arc. (I’m going to say as a precursor that apart from the kids and Koro-sensei, Assclass sucks at redemption arcs. Gakuhou?? Shiromi?? @ me.) But Gakushuu got a pretty nice character arc to follow through. I loved watching my boy grow up, realize his mistakes, and work towards being a better person! It works especially well if you relate to the character, you start to reflect more about yourself. Dynamic change arcs are more interesting than static characters that reflect no shift from start to finish (if this storyline didn’t change them, how is it supposed to change you?). And compelling character stories don’t even have to reflect good change - I’m sure we all look at characters who slowly delve into insanity and think, yes, good. Humans just love introspection - what else is there to think about if not yourself and others, and how we react to the world around us?

Gakushuu also often subverts expectations. We keep track of unusual and unpredictable situations because we want to know what up next? He debuts with dramatic music as boy-with-book, and then the next time we see him is him pulling out pictures of Koro-sensei in the Principal’s office. The scene from Gakushuu kicking Isogai’s face in during the Pole-toppling tournament and then the immediate switch to watching his friends get their faces kicked in was a shock. Then the next time we see him is his sad backstory, and then he’s asking 3-E for help. It’s spicy. Unpredictable. The character equivalent of a cliffhanger. We take notice of him because we don’t know what happens next, we watch him closely because whatever happens to him is closely tied to the 3-E kids - even if you dislike him, you’re kind of forced to pay attention to him. For anyone ambivalent, thinking more about a character just makes you feel more emotions about them.

Relatable characters: We tend to attach to characters we see ourselves in! One of the most common relatable factors I’ve seen are their character backstories/circumstances, and Gakushuu has a pretty run-of-the-mill storyline, with overbearing parental pressure to do well in school. Half of us probably looked at him and said, “yep, that’s me aged fourteen”. I definitely did. One of the reasons I attached to him is the point I figured out that as much of I would like to think I was one of the 3-E cast, I would 100% be part of the Main Campus if I was 14, jeering and booing and all. It definitely made me more sympathetic towards the Main Campus cast.

If not for their backstories, we relate to characters with their personalities, and their goals/motivations. (That’s why people often relate to villains - it’s easy to admire the altruism of our hero protagonist but it’s hard to imagine standing in their shoes, and it’s so much simpler to want to be selfish.) Gakushuu’s goals are surprisingly mundane and fun, he just wants to get As, get into a good high school, get the upper hand over his abusive father, and figure out the secret of class 3-E. You can bet that if I was in Assclass, my middle name would be paparazzi and my hobby would be hiding out in bushes.

And Gakushuu has one of the most compelling character interactions with other characters. We love watching our favs interact with other people! That’s why shipping is so common, because a character floating in isolation isn’t very interesting on it’s own, and the fun comes the rapport and dynamics between them. Rarepairs, undeveloped side characters, and OCs are new, unique sets of character interactions/interpretations, which is why they’re so fun. AUs allow you to dump them into whole new situations and have them re-interact with others in different circumstances! Where was I? Gakushuu is just wild. The Asano family dynamics are just... insane. Every interaction Gakushuu has with 3-E is just so unpredictable. Is he going to help them? Kick them in the face? Ask them for help? Who knows. I love it.

Personality wise, the characters I think people tend to lean towards are characters they think they are alike, characters they are the complete opposite of, and characters that remind them of people they know. If your fav falls into one of those three categories it’s just more likely that their name will pop up more often in your head. Drawing real life connections to fictional things also makes you feel more empathetic towards the fiction.

(A digression: most MCs are the most plain of the bunch, because you get to project more onto them! They’re a blank slate for you to imagine yourself in, and they typically have very safe mild but positive personality traits, because you want to associate yourself with someone kind.)

Not so much of character writing but more of just how AssClass manages comedy: every situation 3-E faces is treated with equal weight. Oh no, someone tried to poison them and drown them and kill them! Oh no, they have to put on a school play and they’re going to fail their midterms! It’s hilarious. Gakushuu’s debut is especially funny because we have 3-E coming down from the immediate previous crisis of their teacher who gave them broken ribs, and then (cue dramatic music) their next equally daunting situation: midterms. Their next recurring antagonist: a boy that studies a little bit too much. It’s downright hysterical, and it’s why Gakushuu caught my attention in the first place.

Where was I? I don’t know. This got away from me. This is why I don’t post often on tumblr or you get behemoth walls of text like this kjhgk

#assclass #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #gakushuu asano #Asano Gakuhou #writing #ao3 #gwentriestothink

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nicomrade · 3 years

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😳 charlie my friend charlie if you have thoughts on him

I LOVE charlie so much hes everything and hes sooo transmasc. like .. . .... ok i talked about it forever ago on twitter but basically theres this rob mcelhenny quote that goes like "True inclusion is bring the LGBTQ down into the gutter with us." about mac coming out as gay and the logical next step from there is canon trans charlie he is quite literally already in the sewer <3 gender euphoria from charlie high pitch yelling

and.. ok so ive been rewatching iasip w my friend whos never seen it before which is like an incredible experience i keep apologizing on behalf of the show BUT anyway so rewatching the early seasons its kinda like... charlie is waay more evil in those early seasons right... or am i making that up. like doesnt he straight up attack dennis in season 1 or something.... and its not to say charlie doesnt attack people in later seasons but its portrayed as him being Unhinged rather than having a real malicious intent or something.. OH and he schemes the the gang gets held hostage episode is just charlie scheming and i love that for him so much. esp since hes also dyslexic/gets called the r slur a lot its like... charlie is still fucking smart u know. he hatches these plans and theres a reason to his madness and thats really important cause its ALL coping mechanisms AND hes very self aware he just doesnt care. he KNOWS half the shit he does is weird/socially unacceptable but he gave up on fitting in a while ago. i forgot the lore of his highschool and younger days exactly but ye.... hes always been ostracized. at one point u just accept thats ur fate, but u never stop being able to tell what is and isnt Weird u just learn to disregard it.

AND hes all in all really genuine (vs mac having that Tough Cool Guy persona, dennis ... being dennis, frank roleplaying as a poor, and well dee literally wants to be an actress) and that makes him especially vulnerable to the gangs ridicule but he still fits in with them! without having to pretend to be anyone he isnt! and a lot of his traits are just normal charlie things to them so its not like him just Existing is weird, and his weirdness gets celebrated at times! like when hes assigned wildcard, thats his volatile nature being recognized and validated in some way! and thats not something he could get from Outside Society like the gang truly sticks together cause no one else would put up w their awful shit but like.. theres still comfort in someone who knows and sees you as you really are even though theyre making ur life a living hell. a little bit. maybe. idk!

a while back i was thinking bout how he grew up being macs only friend and vice versa and i was getting emotional about it but i forgot why specifically i think its really about how theyve always had each other in their lives and they have so much shared history they intuitively understand each other a lot and they also know theyre friends 4ever basically. theyre bffs.... and charlie genuinely enjoys macs project badass stuff like theyre not... theyre not GREAT friends cause the whole gang is awful but compared to whatever the hell the reynolds have going on charlie/mac friendship is sort of sweet you know.... but its still very important that charlie acts mean and fucked up to mac and dennis sometime because its not like any of them is getting proper therapy so bullying others to cope works just as well actually 🤗

also hes so talented i just wanna say it really quick his music ! his drawings ! we love and support an artist charlie kelly u are everything ♥ ALSO ALSO charlie/dennis friendship underrated... that is all

#this is.. even less coherent than those usually are ? ? ? help #but in conclusion: evil charlie rights #thank u for the ask!!! :] flushed emoji.. impeccable taste... wallace icon........ (chef kiss)#ask #pastamansketches

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out-of-jams · 4 years

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One Chance || myg

(Amazing, incredibly badass banner made by @kimtaehyunq )

↠ One Chance ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project.

And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

A/n: Hey all you cool cats and kittens. Hope you’re all staying safe out there! I wasn’t intending to write this, but I had no other choice.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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Min Yoongi.

The name stared up at you in size twelve font, black letters printed onto the white sheeted paper. Every other word on the page blurred around the edges as you tried to place a face to the name. You weren’t good with names, never had been. So with a sigh, you leaned to the side and mumbled to the girl sitting next to you in class.

“Hey, who’s Min Yoongi?”

She--Mira? Mina? something like that--glanced up from her portfolio opened up on the desk and shot you a disbelieving look. You couldn’t blame her, not really. It was nearing the end of the semester and your vocal class had worked with the music production class multiple times throughout the course of the year. Neither class was very big, so you probably should have known the names of all twenty students. Total. Ten in each class.

But hey, in your defense you’d had a lot on your plate, seeing as how you were about to graduate from university and all. Which was a pretty big deal, so memorizing the names of people you only saw a few times ever-so-often wasn’t high up on your list of priorities.

But Min Yoongi.

You recognized him the moment you saw the soft outline of his profile through the glass window of the studio door a day later. He had his attention trained on whatever was on his laptop screen, pale hand sliding across the mousepad. His dark brows were pinched in concentration and you could see the tip of his tongue digging into the side of his cheek.

Even though the overly-bright lights in the room were on, the guy still somehow managed to blend in with the slate grey walls. Hell, his icy blond hair was the only color to stand out amongst all the black clothing. The oversized hoodie and black joggers he wore looked comfortable, and had you glancing down at your own outfit self-consciously. Had the sweater, skirt and high heeled boots combo been too much? Should you have dressed down a little?

Whatever. It was too late now.

Watching him through the door made you feel like some kind of stalking creep, but you couldn’t help it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times and recognized him from whenever your classes joined together and was a little disappointed at yourself for not recognizing his name. Even though you'd never spoken a word to him before, you were a little apprehensive about being partnered together. Min Yoongi had a reputation, and not a very good one. Sure, he was talented at what he did, producing music, to the point where a lot of people in the music department called him a genius. But he was known for being standoffish. Rude. And could cut someone down with a few words from his naturally pouty lips.

You didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, or by the rumors that circulated about them. However, that did nothing for the intimidating aura that bled from the man like cologne the second you stepped foot into the room.

He didn’t even pause in whatever he was doing to spare you a glance. Just announced in a dry, rumbling voice, “You’re late.”

“Uh.” You hesitated halfway into the room, the door swinging shut behind you automatically. Two seconds in and he already hated you. Great. “Sorry. I got lost.”

That made him look up and watch as you pulled the only other rolling chair back from the desk and plopped down. God, his eyes were just as daunting as the rest of him: onyx in color and cat-like in shape, they were bottomless as he blinked at you lazily. And he slowly raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You got lost.” Yoongi repeated slowly. So sarcastically that you didn’t even hear a question mark at the end of it. “Aren’t you about to graduate? How are you still getting lost on campus?”

Your mouth opened and closed, embarrassed heat blossoming across your cheeks. You were blushing hard and you knew it, but that sure as hell didn’t mean that you had to acknowledge it. So you just sniffed and dug through your backpack for an excuse to break eye contact. “I haven’t been in here before.”

It was true. In a way. The hall of studios that you were in now were for the senior music production students. There was a completely different area for each year, but each student had their own assigned as theirs for the semester. So you weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t been to his exact studio before.

Which he seemed to catch on to, if the way Yoongi’s second eyebrow raised to join the first told you anything. But he let it go and turned back to shut his laptop, which you could now see was opened to a music production app. You weren’t very schooled on how to operate it, but even you could tell that he seemed to be very far into whatever it was he was making.

Though you didn’t get a good enough look at it before he closed it.

“Even though we have a month to do this, we should figure out what kind of song we’re making now instead of later.” Yoongi stated in that gruff voice of his and clicked a few things on his laptop. “Since you’re the one singing, you’ll be setting the tone--”

“Wait.” You interrupted.

Yoongi stopped whatever it was he was about to say to give you a blank look, the corners of his lips turned down. “What?”

Clearing your throat, you continued on despite the way his expression tried to cow you into shutting up. “How’re we splitting this up?”

A valid question. Not every person who created music worked in the same way. Some liked to do things a completely different way than somebody else might’ve. Last time you’d worked with one of the students from the music production class, the two of you had butted heads the whole way. He hadn’t wanted to hear your input at all, and you weren’t about to be shoved off to the side like some kind of un-opinionated mouthpiece again.

Yoongi made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a hum. “I normally make the track and leave the lyrics up to the singer unless they need help.”

He looked at you from out of the corner of his eye as he clicked a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him to bring the giant monitor above the control panel to life. “Can you write?”

“Yes.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about it.

“Good. You’ll take care of that then.” Yoongi slid a blank yellow notepad into the empty space on the control panel between you. “Though we’ll need to do the melody before that.”

The next time the two of you met was almost a week later. It’d been sometime late in the afternoon when you both finally had time in your schedules. Because for some stupid reason, even though both of your classes were combined to work on the project, it had to be done outside of class.

Ugh.

As if you didn’t already have enough things to stress over. Like say, securing a job for after graduation.

During the first meeting between the two of you, you’d already decided on what kind of song you wanted to make. Something upbeat, but not over the top, though not boring either. You weren’t a huge fan of sounding like every other music artist out there and apparently Yoongi had felt the same. So it’d been easy to come up with.

He’d texted over a few ideas for the concept and you’d been pleasantly surprised at how serious he took it. At how complex and layered the ideas he’d come up with were. They were a lot better than anything you could have ever dreamed up and you were beyond astonished.

Especially when he met you outside of his studio door, blond hair was secured back off his forehead by a white headband, and greeted you with, “I finished the track.”

“Already?” Shock was clear in your voice and you watched open mouthed as he unlocked the door and held it open for you to follow him inside. The lights flickered on overhead, but you were too busy staring at his back to notice. “That was quick, holy shit.”

Yoongi shrugged off your awe and wiggled the mouse to bring his computer to life. “It was no big deal. And now we can work on the melody.”

Still gaping at the blond, you shuffled forward to drop your bag next to your chair. “Okay. Um. Where should we start?”

Pulling out his chair, he sat down and lazily dragged the mouse over to open up his production software. “Listen to it first and let me know if you want to make any changes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You plopped down into your own chair and watched as he pressed play.

The music that poured from the expensive speakers started off slowly until it tapered off into what you assumed would be the first chorus. And you found yourself unconsciously tapping your fingers against your thigh when the bridge finally hit, you had to bite your lip to contain an excited smile. The moment it ended, you twisted in your chair to see that he was already looking at you. Though he kept his face blank, you could literally see question lingering behind those cat-like eyes of his.

“Mm.” You hummed, nodding your head and trying your damnedest to keep the grin from your face.

When you failed to say anything more, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“Mm.” You finally let the smile touch your lips. “I really liked it. It’s good.”

“Yeah?” He reached out to stop the track from replaying on a loop. “Any changes?”

“Nah. I like it just the way it is.”

“Alright.” Was what he responded with, but you could tell that he was pleased beneath that hard exterior of his. “The melody then.”

“The melody.” You agreed.

Min Yoongi was extremely anal when it came to anything he attached his name to.

That was probably why he had so many music companies vying for his attention. Not only did he produce nothing short of perfect tracks, but he’d even made some cash on the side selling some of them. Or so you’d heard through the grapevine.

Which was exactly why you were left staring at the blank notebook settled across your crossed legs. The pen in your hand had yet to put ink to the blank pages hours after you’d gotten home. All because some guy intimidated the hell out of you.

Most of the songs you wrote were fine. But that was the problem.

Min Yoongi didn’t do fine. And you had no doubt in your mind that he’d tear your work to absolute shreds should you present him something lackluster. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to jump the gun and tell him you’d be fine writing by yourself.

It was way too late now.

“How long are you going to stare like that?”

Snapping out of your self-degrading thoughts, you turned to look over your shoulder. Jennie, your ever present roommate, was standing behind the couch shoving spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. By the lack of makeup on her face and the messy bun her long black hair was thrown up into, she was more than likely about to go to bed.

“Stare like what?” You asked with a poorly concealed pout, pulling out your earbuds that’d been playing the track on a constant loop.

“Like you’re constipated or something.” Jennie waved her spoon at you before dipping it back into the bowl to scoop up more soggy cereal. “Project really giving you that much trouble?”

She didn’t necessarily know exactly what was going on with you, not exactly. Sure, she knew that you were partners with Yoongi and had been spending a lot of time with the man for the project. But she didn’t know just how much pressure you were under. Self-inflicted or not.

“These lyrics are kicking my ass.” Groaning, you leaned to the side until you were sprawled out on the couch.

“Why?” Jennie rested her arms against the back of it, bowl of milk and cereal hovering over you dangerously. “They don’t normally.”

She had a point. It wasn’t usually so difficult to write a damn song, but you also didn’t usually have a perfectionist genius as a partner. Instead of saying that though, you just threw your arms over your face. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this, ‘ya know? I should drop out while I still can.”

“O-kay.” You could hear her exasperated eye roll. “Don’t stress so much about it. You know, whenever you’re done being overdramatic.”

Jennie successfully dodged the couch pillow you chucked after fleeing footsteps. A buzz from your phone had you reaching for it blindly and the text on the screen had you burying your face into the cushions.

Min Yoongi: you free tomorrow?

Y/n: yeah. Same time?

His response came in not even five seconds later.

Min Yoongi: works for me

“So, see you tomorrow?” The question left your lips as you packed your stuff back into your bag. You still hadn’t been able to come up with any lyrics. At least none good enough to show your partner. So while you’d both been in the studio, you’d busied yourself trying to write and Yoongi had been doing whatever it was that he did.

He’d just powered down the computer he’d been working on and shook his head without looking at you. “I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”

“Oh, really?” That came as a surprise. The fact that there was something or someone out there that could force the Min Yoongi to ditch working on a song. “What kind of plans?”

Ever since you’d showed up with food two weeks ago, he’d been a little more amicable towards you. Not as closed off. Which, of course, only led to you bringing some with you every day. Maybe food being the way to a man’s heart really applied to every man. Nonetheless, with the way the two of you would banter back and forth without heat made you hope that it wasn’t just you who considered him a friend.

Yoongi paused, only for a moment, but he paused all the same in throwing his bag over his shoulder before he answered. “I...have a show.”

“A show?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you stood up. That was the last thing you would have expected to leave his mouth. “What kind of show?”

“It’s not the type of show you’d want to watch.” He headed for the door and you scrambled to follow after him.

Leaning against the wall while he locked up the door, you folded your arms across your chest. “Why? You a stripper or something?”

Yoongi didn’t even spare you a look, just pocketed his keys and started down the hallway, apparently assuming that you’d follow. “You saying I wouldn’t be a good stripper?”

He’d assumed correctly. Your legs raced to catch up. “I never said that. You insinuated that all by yourself.”

An amused scoff passed his lips, but that was all you got in response. You weren’t about to letter the matter drop though. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A stripper.”

A pause. And then Yoongi met your sparkling gaze and shook his head with a huffing laugh. “No, I’m not a stripper.”

“Well, if your show isn’t anything rated NC-18, then can I go?”

“Why would you want to go?”

His question had you sending him a hesitant look. “Because we’re friends, aren't we?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “If I say no, will you stop asking?”

You pretended to think for a minute before clicking your tongue. “Nope.”

He looked over at you, feline eyes squinting in contemplation. As much as Min Yoongi liked to act like he came across as aloof, he was a lot easier to read than he probably thought. And he must have found whatever it was he was looking for, because his thoughtful pout turned into a careless shrug.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“Sweet.” You grinned up at him and finally let him go on his merry way.

It was difficult to find a parking spot. You’d had to loop around the block at least ten times before you were finally able to squeeze your car into a space between two giant SUVs. The spot wasn’t exactly close to where you were supposed to meet Yoongi, but it was the best you could do.

When he’d texted you the address, you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little apprehensive at first. It was located on the outskirts of downtown where you’d never been before. Because the further out you went from the center of the city, the more dangerous it got.

Y/n: I’m here.

You sent the text off to Yoongi and cut the car engine. Throwing a glance at the clock on the dash, you silently thanked yourself for leaving a bit early in order to get there in time. The sun had long gone down and the moon had taken its place, so the streets were dark. Only lit up by the street lamps and lights that bled from apartment windows. Most of the businesses were closed for the night, the corner store half a block down was the only one still open.

You had about six blocks to walk and was just about to get out of your car when your phone started vibrating in your hand.

“Hello?” You answered the call, voice pitched with barely concealed amusement.

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice was even deeper over the phone, if that were possible. And you could hear the sounds of cars driving past him in the background.

You rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “I told you that I’m here.”

He sighed into the phone and you just knew that he was making a face. “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Like, parked a few blocks away.” You popped your car door open, turning back to the passenger seat to grab your bag. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Stay where you are.” Yoongi demanded and you raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come get you.”

“You don’t have to.” You huffed a laugh. “I have two legs, ‘ya know.”

“Really? Never noticed.” In the background, voices blended in with the sound of cars. “This neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest. So just tell me where you are so I can make sure you don’t get stabbed or something.”

“‘Stabbed or something?’” It was difficult to hide your amusement now, but you obeyed and got back inside your car anyway, letting him know what street you were on. “My knight in shining armor, you say the most romantic things.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. You knew he did. “Nevermind. Maybe I’ll just let you get stabbed while I make my escape.”

The bark of laughter that left you was impossible to contain. “I could run faster than you and you know it. So try me.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah okay. You wouldn't--”

A click told you that yes, he would. And you were left staring down at your phone with open mouthed disbelief. How dare he? You were just about to call him back and tell him as much, when a knock on your car window had you jumping with a small shriek.

Yoongi stood right outside your door with his fist still raised and a gummy grin on his pouty lips. You just stuck your tongue out at him childishly and grabbed your bag before slipping out of your car. “You’re a bully.”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his dark colored jeans and shrugged. “Would a bully walk all the way over here to make sure you don’t get robbed?”

Now it was your turn to shrug, taking him in and pretending not to see his onyx eyes slide down your body. Yoongi was dressed casually like usual. With a plain white t-shirt and a black zip up jacket thrown over it, he pulled it off like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. How in the hell he always managed to do that was a mystery to you. And you knew you didn’t compare to him, even with your high-waisted white joggers and grey crop top.

Whatever. It wasn’t like it was bright enough outside to matter anyway.

“That sounds exactly like something a robber would say.” You flicked your hair over your shoulder and took off down the cracked sidewalk, making sure to lock your car behind you.

“Not like there’d be much to steal.” Yoongi’s voice caught up to you right as he did, walking side by side with the occasional brushing of his shoulder against yours.

You responded to his playful jab by lightly smacking his arm. “Careful there. Keep saying such poetic words and you’ll make me fall in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He went quiet, but you could feel him looking at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze was a weight that burned through you, a light shining through the night.

The rest of the walk passed by pretty quickly, especially when nobody jumped out of an alleyway to rob you at knifepoint. Whether or not that was because of the man walking at your side, or something else, it didn’t matter. Not when the building you were headed to for the night popped up in the distance.

It looked like any other building on the street, with rough brick siding and a glowing red and green sign advertising the bar. Situated on the corner, you were just about to head inside when Yoongi’s hand caught your arm.

“It’s this way.” He answered your confused look by tugging you gently down the alleyway right next to the bar.

“But I thought it was inside.” You glanced back behind you before looking back towards the dead ended alley.

Yoongi dropped his hand from your arm. “It is.”

“Ah, makes sense.” You nodded sarcastically, successfully drawing a smile from your escort.

“Be patient and you’ll see.”

True to his word, you saw what he meant when he came to a stop outside of a side door. There weren’t any signs or anything indicated what it led to, but you could take a guess as Yoongi pulled it open and gestured for you to enter first.

It was dark inside and you had to squint in the dim lighting in order to see anything. You were in what appeared to be some kind of entrance that reminded you of one of the speakeasies downtown. Though there wasn’t a soul in sight, just a staircase at the end of the short hall. Unless you counted the loud base of music pounding through your feet and straight to your bones. The door slammed shut behind Yoongi and then he was taking the lead towards the stairs.

The further down you went, the louder the music got until it was all you could hear. And once you got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the room, you found out why. Bodies were packed wall-to-wall, some moving to the music pouring from the speakers and others nodding their heads with drinks in their hands. Red and purple lights made the room seem bigger than it actually was, made it easier to lose yourself in the crowd.

Yoongi had taken you to an underground club. Which just made you all the more curious about just what kind of show he was going to be performing in.

“Want a drink?” Yoongi’s voice, even though spoken directly in your ear, was barely distinguishable from the lyrics bleeding through the room.

You simply nodded, taking care not to bash your head into his nose from where he was leaning over for you to hear him. He said something you couldn’t hear, words lost to the crowd. But you assumed he wanted you to follow him when he started to merge himself into the throngs of people. Just when you thought that you’d have to try and fight your way through to keep up with him, he was reaching back to grab your hand.

Wrapped his slender fingers around yours without sparing you a second look.

He was just trying to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Yeah, that was it. There was no other reason for it, so therefore your heart had no reason to speed up. To thump in time with the bass as you followed behind him. Especially when the warmth from his palm slid into yours.

“What do you want?” Yoongi turned back to speak in your ear. Shit, you hadn’t even realized that you’d already reached the packed bar. So you forced yourself to focus on the two bartenders running around behind it, rather than the hand still in yours.

“Tequila.” You answered. Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise before turning back to the bar. With his eyes no longer on you, it made breathing a whole lot easier. And you turned your attention away from Yoongi’s slim back and towards the stage.

It was all the way on the other side of the room and you watched as a guy walked across it with a mic in his hands. The music was lowered and his voice cracked to life through the speakers. Whatever announcement he was making went in one ear and out the other because Yoongi turned back around with a plastic cup extended out towards you. His other hand was empty and you sent him a questioning look.

Whether or not he knew what you were silently asking, or was just making a general announcement, he answered your question. “I have to perform soon.”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth and accepted the drink with a smile in thanks. “You still haven’t told me what you’re gonna be doing.”

You had to stand on your tippy-toes in order for Yoongi to hear you, which didn’t go unnoticed by him if the amused gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. “You’ll see.”

Which was exactly how you found yourself with another drink in your hands and your back leaning against the bar. If you were being completely honest, you hadn’t been sure what to expect. A lot of different things had popped into your mind about what kind of shows your partner liked to put on. Some ranging from completely ridiculous, to weird, to funny.

But none of them had been this.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A talented producer, a deep thinker, a musical genius.

Never would you have thought to add “rapper” to the list. You should have known, was a little surprised at yourself for not being able to guess. Like all other things Min Yoongi, he was incredibly good at it. Took to the stage like a natural. And you were completely awestruck, unable to look away the whole time he was up on that stage, letting words flow from his lips like some kind of poetic river.

Calm, yet bubbling over with the effortless way he captured the attention of everyone in the room. The track he rapped over was fast paced, but he had no trouble keeping up and keeping the crowd engaged at the same time. He performed three songs, but it wasn’t enough. And judging by the one last look at the crowd Yoongi took before exiting the stage, it wasn’t enough for him either.

Whoever took his place didn’t have one ounce of your attention. And maybe that was rude or whatever, but you didn’t care. Not when you caught sight of his blond head making its way towards you. He got stopped multiple times along the way by people congratulating him with pats on the back or short conversations.

By the time Yoongi finally made his way back to your side, your second drink was extended out to him with a grin on your face. You’d barely even taken a sip from it, so it was completely full and beginning to sweat water. “That was amazing!”

The performer on stage was loud, but you could tell that Yoongi heard you by the smile he tried and failed to hide behind the rim of the plastic cup. But you weren’t going to leave it at that, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and squeezing to make sure you got your point across. “Like, incredibly amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could rap like that?”

“You never asked.” He shrugged. Yoongi wasn’t the type of person to feed off of compliments, you knew that. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate them. The way his onyx colored eyes glittered told as much. And when he tilted the plastic cup back and drained the contents, the confidence that flowed beneath his skin gave it away too. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, young padawan.”

A snort of amusement from the passenger side of your car had you throwing Yoongi a wink. He completely ignored you in favor of thumbing through the playlist on your phone. It was hooked up to the radio via bluetooth and ever since you’d left the underground club, he’d been focused on silently judging you for your music choices.

When Yoongi had suggested bailing on the club, he hadn’t really had a particular place in mind. Which you’d soon figured out the moment you stepped out the door. He’d taken the subway to the place, so you’d all but shoved him into your car before he had a chance to say no.

“You really have Ariana Grande on here?” He wiggled your phone in your peripheral and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t too busy merging off the freeway.

“What’s wrong with Ari?” You huffed in mock offense.

“Nothing.”

“I can literally hear the judgement in your voice.”

“Maybe you should focus on the road then.”

Now you really did roll your eyes. Though the bark of laughter that accompanied it showed your lack of annoyance. “I would if we weren’t already here.”

Yoongi looked up from your phone just as you were putting the car into park. His eyes squinted into the dark with a furrow of his eyebrows. “We’re at the beach?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ and turned off your car, quickly hopping out before you could fall victim to his flatline stare.

The scent of sea salt lingered in the semi-humid air and you paused for a moment to inhale deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of the ocean, and when the passenger side door opened and closed, you rounded the car to wave Yoongi along. He caught up to you right as your shoe hit the wooden planks of the boardwalk. You’d had to park way back in one of the lots far away from the beach for whatever godforsaken reason.

Shopfronts, closed and shuttered by metal grates due to the late hour, greeted you as you walked down the path. And Yoongi’s presence at your side was calming. Hell, everything about that man was. Never would you have thought that about him, not at first. Not with the rocky way your friendship had started.

Neither would you have expected the warmth that bloomed in your chest everytime he looked at you with those pretty eyes of his. Or flashed you one of his patented gummy smiles. He’d somehow wormed a place into your heart with that sarcastic wit of his. No, the last thing you would have expected from your final project was this.

But you didn’t mind. Even if he didn’t feel the same way, only looked at you like a friend, you didn’t mind. Because you’d take anything he offered you. And if a friendship was all he was willing to give, that was okay too.

“Where are we going exactly?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you glanced up at him to see that he was already looking at you.

“Do we need to have a destination?” You shot back with a wiggle of your eyebrows. “It’s all in the journey.”

He rolled his eyes skyward as if silently asking why me, but let a smile touch his lips anyway “And this journey leads to the beach I’m guessing?”

“Maybe.” You dragged out the syllables, nudging your shoulder with his playfully. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the beach.”

“Who doesn’t like the beach?”

“That’s exactly what I’m--whoa.” Your feet came to a halt right as you stepped out from between two shops, where the boardwalk met the beach. Yoongi stopped at your side, but you didn’t even notice.

Because you were too busy staring at the apparent concert that was being held further down the beach. Apparently the loud music you’d heard from the parking lot wasn’t from one of the many speakers placed throughout the boardwalk. Well, that would explain the lack of parking at least.

Even from where the two of you stood, you could tell that the crowd was huge. They took up a big chunk of the beach, bodies nothing but a dark mass in the distance as they danced to the music from the stage. You couldn’t tell who it was, not that far away. But the multicolored lights flashed into the sky like a beacon.

“I wonder who’s performing.” Yoongi’s mumble had you bending down to unlace your shoes. “What’re you doing?”

“You wanna know who’s performing?” Slipping off your socks, you threw both those and your shoes into your bag. Once it was closed up, you sent Yoongi a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s go find out.”

He didn’t move, just gave you a look before realization dawned on his face. “You want to sneak in.”

It was a statement, not a question, but you nodded your head anyway. “Come on, when will you ever have the chance to do something like this again. Don’t tell me you’re scared we’ll get caught.”

Yoongi scoffed, but leaned down to slip off his shoes in an uncharacteristic move. You knew he wasn’t much of a partier and didn’t do things like this very often. So the fact that he was caving to your suggestion had your mind whirling. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“At what?”

A smirk was thrown your way as he stood back up, but that was all the answer you got. After all the time you’ve spent with the man, you’d like to consider yourself a Yoongi Whisperer. So that smirk probably meant something along the lines of: I’m surprised that you’re a super awesome badass.

Or something.

“Just come on.” You grabbed his hand without thinking, dragging him behind you onto the sand. When he failed to complain, you took that as a greenlight to continue doing so.

When his fingers linked themselves with yours, it took all you had to not falter in your steps. To pretend like you weren’t affected by such a thoughtless action. To calm the rapid beating of your heart.

The closer you got to the concert, the louder the music got, until you could hear the roar of the crowd over the artist on stage. It was EDM, or at least sounded like it. Of course, as soon as you got closer, you spotted your first hurdle. One you’d been unable to see from far away.

A chain link fence stood between the two of you and a night of fun. It had your shoulders deflating before you even realized it, and you turned to the blond at your side. “Should we climb it or something?”

Biting your lip, you eyed just how far up it was. Even if the two of you managed to climb it, there was no way that you wouldn’t be spotted by security. And being arrested was the last thing on your to-do list.

“Or.” Yoongi crossed over to the fence and wrapped his hands along the bottom of it. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was looking, he lifted it up and back, bending it backwards with just enough space left at the bottom for someone to squeeze underneath.

There was no way that he would have been strong enough on his own to lift it, and a closer look had you snorting a laugh. Apparently the two of you weren’t the only ones who’d had the idea to sneak in.

“You going?” He questioned and you started forward before a smartass remark could leave his mouth.

The sand was cool beneath your body as you shimmied underneath the space between the fence and the ground. And once you were on the other side, you crouched down and grabbed the fence from Yoongi to pull back towards your side. “I’m surprised that you’re going along with this, to be honest. Don’t you hate music like this?”

He grunted as he crawled across the sand towards you. “You wanted to.”

“So?” Your voice was soft, but he was still able to hear you over the pounding bass. The fence dropped from your fingers once he was on your side, but you didn’t move, just stared up at him as he stood.

“So.” Yoongi started, extending a hand down to help you up. “Are you coming?”

His answer had warmth blossoming in your chest and a tiny smile blooming on your face. Had you reaching out to let him help you up off the sand. He didn’t let go while you brushed yourself off, but he did guide the both of you towards the writhing crowd, if only to avoid being spotted by security.

It was a good thing that Yoongi was a slim man, because it made slipping through the numerous dancing bodies closer towards the stage a whole lot easier. You’d made it to about the middle when he stopped and tugged you closer to join him in a pocket of space between two different groups of people. The scent of marijuana mixed in with sea salt from the ocean in a cocktail that usually accompanied things like that.

“Dance with me.” You spoke into Yoongi’s ear, ignoring the excited flush you felt at being so close to him.

“I can’t dance.” He stated, despite the hand he slipped around your waist and pressed into your back. Whether or not to move you out of the range of the group of girls dancing wildly behind you, or something else, you didn’t know.

Chest to chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. “Mm. I don’t believe you. Everyone can dance.”

“That’s a lie.” Yoongi’s lips were titled up at the corners and his gaze on you was soft. Gentle.

The flashing lights on the stage flickered through his dark colored eyes. Turned those once pools of onyx into a glittering galaxy that you couldn’t look away from. That hypnotized you like the beat that pulsed beneath your skin and drowned your ears.

“That’s not true.” Your mumble was lost to the crowd. Buried somewhere underneath the music as he moved closer. And the butterflies nestled deep in your gut fluttered their wings when his other hand cupped the side of your face.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours and his breath fanned across your cheek. That was the only warning you got before his mouth was on yours. His lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he liked to wear. And the kiss, like everything Min Yoongi, was slow. Not in a lazy way. More like he was taking the time to savor it. To remember what your hair felt like as he slid his hand into it.

Or the way you involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip. How your fingers found their way into the short hairs at the nape of his neck when you pulled him closer. How he’d had to hold back a laugh at the way you were standing on your tippy-toes in order to reach him.

You probably wouldn’t have pulled away and neither would he, if it weren’t for the rain that suddenly tore from the sky like an opened dam. Drenching anything and everything around it faster than you could blink. It had you forcing yourself away from the magnetizing pull of Yoongi’s lips to give him an eye crinkling smile.

“What was that for?” You didn’t care if you were getting wet.

Neither did he apparently, because he ran a thumb over the lips he’d just kissed, sending shivers down your spine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Break it down for me.”

He met your imploring gaze almost bashfully, eyes squinting from the rain. “I’ve liked you since practically the beginning of the semester.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know how.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you, Min Yoongi.”

He opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off by a loud clap of thunder. Both of you glanced up at the dark sky at the same time.

Everyone around you was either ignoring the torrential downpour or shrieking and attempting to use anything to shield themselves from getting wet. Once the sound of thunder echoed a streak of lightning, you knew what was about to happen next and turned to meet Yoongi’s eyes. He, like everyone else, was drenched and his blond hair stuck to the damp skin of his face. It had you grinning at the pout on his mouth and you leaned forward to press your lips to his one final time before pulling away.

“We should get out of here before everyone else decides to do the same.” You had to shout to be heard over both the rain and the noise from everything else. It was only a matter of time before the concert got either canceled or postponed due to the thunderstorm and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Yoongi wiped water from his eyes and grabbed your hand to start navigating the hell out of there.

And as your eyes trained themselves to his slim back and your fingers interlocked themselves with his, you smiled. The lyrics that you’d been struggling so hard to write came to life beneath the fire in your chest. You had no one but the man in front of you to thank for the inspiration.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a poet, a light in a sea of darkness.

Min Yoongi was nothing if not beautiful.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #yoongi #yoongi fic #r yoongi

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thewhizzyhead · 3 years

Note

Hey, your misfits musical thing sounded super super interesting! Any other details about it that you're willing to share? Minor plot points? Gay Relationship stuff? :0

oh boy this is gonna be long *cracks knuckles* here we go

SO FUN BACKSTORY BEFORE I GET TO THE PLOT PARTS TJXJJS: my sunday school has a tradition of um holding productions of christmas musicals every december. My teachers would find american christian christmas kiddy musicals productions on youtube and then basically um translate all the dialogue to Filipino (the songs stay in English) and have us um reenact the whole thing and ngl it was a lot of fun! I even acted as some of the main roles there when I was like 10-13 so um I can kinda say that I have some experience with musical theatre YAYYY (jk jk that doesn't really count djsff).

When I was around 12-13 years old, I became obsessed with A Very Potter Musical and wondered what it would be like to make AVPM but Christmas so that my church could perform it (very silly idea but shh i was 12 and I was obsessed) and then over time a plot that Was Definitely Not Harry Potter started to form and them um here we are fjsjd so thank you Starkid for making me go down this hellhole

Oki backstory over, now here comes the very long part:

(Also um warning this musical concept involves a lot of religion talk since majority of the thingy is me criticizing a lot of the hypocrisies in religious institutions here based on my experience so um yea proceed with caution if ur sensitive to religion-related stuff)

p.s. ari i am so so sorry but this is so fucking long and definitely more than what you asked for so um yea goodluck fjxjsjf

SO BASICALLY Misfits is about 5 "narrators" - these guys serve as the "floor directors" of the show and um yea they make sure that the plot actuall happens and everything goes exactly according to the script given by the church higher ups or "producers" - who have to bring 3 teens branded by their church as "Misfits" back to Bethlehem 1 CE in order to "teach them a lesson about God" aka convert them to Christianity thus removing the "Misfits" branding. (Also they can only go back once they successfully arrive at the manger because um that's how the producers want it to be tjxjs)

I have to emphasize that although this tackles a lot of stuff related to Christianity and religion as a whole, this really isn't a Christian Musical and that this very morally questionable mission (through the power of Stage Magic and Super Powers, the Narrators essentially bring the Misfits back to the past against their will for the sake of completing their mission) goes horribly, horribly wrong very very quickly.

Throughout the course of the musical, the 5 Narrators struggle to stick to the given script and get their mission done as the 3 Misfits prove to not only be very freaking stubborn but also quite insightful as well as they bring up really good points in regards to religious hypocrisies and socially questionable, prejudiced and backward views commonly held by most religious institutions here i.e gender roles, homophobia, the demonization of science and technology at times, elitism and classism, etc etc (i can only speak in behalf of the Philippines so um yea Philippines). Overall, this is kinda a case study on as to how religion can influence and shape people's mindsets for either the better or the worse and how it is often used by the authorities to simultaneously give hope to the people (especially those of the poorer sectors wherein because of how hopeless the present seems here because a very flawed system kept in place by the exploitative privilged here, they choose to just trust in God instead and also hope that the afterlife is much much better than this shit) while also keeping them in line and like preventing them from rioting. (Church and politics undeniably go hand in hand here even though we have legislations enforcing the separation of the church and state and um yEA THIS WHOLE THING HAS BEEN VERY PROMINENT THROUGHOUT PHILIPPINE HISTORY AND WE CAN ALL THANK THE SPANIARDS but um anyways that'll be a rant for another day)

On a more personal and emotional aspect, this thingy also tackles a lot of stuff I find rather common among kids my age, especially those who had a very Christian upbringing (aka 99.9% of the philippine population tjxbdbf). There's a lot of questioning involved in regards to one's faith, sexuality, perspective and purpose in life and all that fun stuff and how oftentimes said questioning is discouraged due to the church (and ph society overall) wanting us to just like um sTICK TO THE STATUS QUOoOoO and just comply with what is seen as appropriate and godly cause anything out of the ordinary is ngl treated like it's heresy. (YES THERE WILL BE A LOT OF SELF PROJECTION HERE)

One final and important thing to note is that the show is essentially a musical-inside-a-musical in a way fjsjf I originally designed this thing to be like um produce-able on my church's stage (because they were supposed to help me produce the first version of misfits which um yea that's def not gonna happen now tjxjdv) which um kinda looks like the OG Spring Awakening Stage (and yes Misfits is very much inspired by Spring Awakening God I love that show) which is why the show is kinda stylized like a concert with handheld mics and all wherein um the 5 narrators are aware that they are putting on a show to the point of even directly addressing the audience a lot while the 3 Misfits (except for 1 which i'll get to in a bit) aren't aware that they are in a show. The three do eventually find that out and that's when all hell breaks loose to the point that the "producers" (represented by Hades-ish voices) have to intervene by literally changing and manipulating the show's setting and plot to make sure that their script gets followed and that's when the characters really try to break the show to get out of it bUT THE POINT I WANNA MAKE HERE IS THXJD keeping in mind that I had initially planned for Misfits to be produced by my church prior to the many drastic changes, the show the narrators were putting on (aka the musical-inside-the-musical) was made with the intention to pander to a Very Religious Audience. Successfully convincing people to convert to Christianity, especially those of the youth, is what many religious audiences want to see and that is exactly what the "producers" have written for the 5 "narrators and floor directors" to enact. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a Christian and preaching the Gospel and bringing in new believers isn't essentially a bad thing; if they want to believe in the religion then woo good for them! But, such preaching becomes detrimental when you take away one's agency and basically force them into Christianity by means of guilt tripping and manipulation which is sadly very much a reality here (again, a rant for another day) and a representation of such is shown here in the show where um the 3 Misfits were basically forced into this show that 5 Narrators are putting on and, through the influence of the 5 Narrators, the 3 Misfits have to decide to become "good Christian youths" for the show to conclude because that's show the "producers" have written. So when the 3 Misfits stubborness goes to the point that even the 5 Narrators start questioning the morals of their mission, that's when the show starts to go off-script and that's when the production starts to like umm "break" and whenever that happens, the "producers" start speaking to the Narrators, reminding them that they have an audience that they need to please and a message that they need to convey.

So while the Misfits (2 of them, at least, cause um the third one has um yea i'll get to him in a bit) mainly focus on figuring out what in the everliving fuck is going on (while also dealing with their um unfortunate circumstances, childhood trauma, a shit ton of guilt and the concept of salvation and self-forgiveness), the Narrators are tasked with the burden of carrying the show and making sure that the audience finds it appealing while trying to convince themselves that what the church wants them to do is "right" and what the Misfits keep telling them is "wrong" ala um Holier-Than-Thou mindset. Once they eventually start becoming more willing to see the true nature of both the Misfits and the Producers despite the fear of disappointing everyone who's watching, that's when the Narrators and Misfits all start breaking the show by going off-script and completely destroying the plot and production that the Producers have made for the audience - thus making a statement of refusing to comply with a flawed system for the sake of audience approval while also making the first step to fixing that system for the good of all.

Also fun fact: Although it'll make my job a lot harder because I am more fluent in English than in Filipino, i wanna write the thingy in both English and Filipino fjxjdf the dialogue can be Taglish but um the songs that are "part of the script" aka what the Producers want the characters to sing are in English while the songs that aren't part of the script are in Filipino; songs that are both in Filipino and in English are um i guess indicative of the struggle to follow the script while also trying to do what you believe is right (an example of a song with that style is Interpretasyon - which means Interpretation and um Ezekiel (one of the Misfits) sings in Filipino while Joshua (leader of the narrators) sings in English and um just imagine Wallflower cuz IT IS VERY MUCH LIKE WALLFLOWER GJDJNF) and um yea i kinda imagine it to be some sort of rock-pop musical concert thingy so um woo thank you pma for once again influencing my work

SO ANYWAYS UM THAT WAS LONG SO LET'S GO TO THE GAY SHIT

Okay so far 4/8 of the characters here have queerness directly related to their individual plotlines here but um yea honestly i'm tempted to make all of them queer CAUSE IT'S FUN oki so um anyways on to the character dynamics (I won't be able to include more in depth descriptions because im hungry and GOD THIS IS LONG so um yea)

June & Anna (Narrator 2) - oki so June here is one of the Misfits and she's from the poorer sectors (i'm still working on her backstory to make it more believable but um yea) and she isn't able to go to school due to having to prioritize providing for her family first. Due to a very unfortunate childhood event (one that involves Zack, another Misfit), she had to grow up fast and now appears to have a rather jaded view of the world. Anna, one of the Narrators, is the very opposite of that - she's privileged and wealthy-as-fuck and seems to be very optimisitc and friendly. However, ever since she has been blackmailed by her own churchmates for merely questioning her sexuality (true story), she became a more reserved and emotionally closed person despite her very friendly and cheerful demeanor. So when she finds out that June's music carries a lot of beautiful insight and hope in spite of her unfortunate circumstances (the two girls bond over music btw that's how Anna got June to trust in her), she becomes confused because how can June, a girl who has nothing, not even faith, still have hope that she'll be able to find some semblance of happiness while Anna, who has everything, has such a downtrodded view of the world? So um basically their dynamic will also consist of Anna checking her privilege, June explaining how good people turn against the world when the world turns against them (YES A LOT OF TALK ABOUT POVERTY AND HOW THAT IS A RESULT OF CAPITALISTIC EXPLOITATION) (yes June will talk about that a lot), and um what it means to hope with or without faith and what it means to trust another and oneself again. Oh and also lots of philosophy talk and emotional expression through music wie

Zack and Mikael (Narrator 3) - Zack, another Misfit, is a childhood friend of June and a younger stepbrother of Ezekiel (the third Misfit). After Zack and June lost contact after the 'unfortunate childhood event' (i am not sure on what exactly it'll be but in the earlier drafts a fire burned both of their homes and killed both of their dads and rn I have a song concept describing that called "Umaapoy" which means "Burns" but i dunno i'm still working on it), he became best friends with Mikael and um yea said best-friendship was Definitely Not Platonic. After a picture of them kissing was sent to not only the school principal but to basically everyone in the school, both of their parents were called to the principal's office which led to both of the boys moving to different schools to um mitigate the damage i guess gjdjd while Zack's mom eventually learned to accept her son's sexuality, Mikael um wasn't so lucky - I'd say he went through um a lot of religious intervention almost akin to conversion therapy which then um yea has caused him a lot of internalized homophobia and um yea Mikael and Zack haven't been able to talk or even chat in about 3-4 years so imagine Mikael's surprise when he found out that his mission involved Zack - who does not and cannot recognize Mikael because welp not part of the script. Zack, a bit braver now, takes a liking to Mikael and wants to at least be friends with him partly because he somehow finds him really familiar while um Mikael tries to maintain a strictly professional demeanor out of fear that Zack will recognize him and out of fear that he'll fall in love with Zack again. Their dynamic will also include um learning to trust one another and oneself again (like June & Anna's dynamic), to learn how to be brave and be sure in one's beliefs (Mikael um doesn't really speak up that much out of fear while Zack is not only outspoken, but is also an activist - this is another one of the many reasons why Zack is branded as a "Misfit" aside from the fact that he's gay and um yea Ezekiel spends almost 2 minutes berating Joshua for this out of pure anger and disgust), and what it means to reconnect with the past and to forgive oneself (although that is much more expounded upon with June & Zack's dynamic).

Ezekiel and Joshua (Narrator 1) - SAY HI TO THE RILEY AND CAIRO DYNAMIC WOOOOOOO but yea ari dude your analysis on Riley and Cairo (and Kate) being the Main MAIN characters and everything about cheerwives gave me a lot of think about and SO I PUT IT IN HERE WOOOOOO so basically um Ezekiel is the older stepbrother of Zack and the first of the 3 Misfits to figure out that they are in a show. He figures this out because he recognizes Joshua aka the leader of the Narrators aka his former churchmate and ex-bestfriend. He also realizes that they are in a show because he recognizes their tricks which he knew about because he had participated in these missions before as one of the Narrators (Joshua and Ezekiel are older than the rest of the cast and the other narrators don't know that Ezekiel was once a Narrator as well). Due to an Unfortunate Incident (that i'm still working on) 3 years prior to the events in the show, Ezekiel cut off all ties to the church but he is still viewed as this "perfect role model golden boy" which is why the 4 Narrators were shocked to find out that Ezekiel was part of their mission. Joshua, knowing that the real reason to his sudden involvement is due to "producers" somehow finding out their secret about the Unfortunate Incident, lied and told the others that he was just included to make converting his brother a lot easier, which they believed. Out of all the narrators, Joshua is the one who tries his best to stick to the script the most because he knows that if he doesn't, the true nature of that Unfortunate Incident will not only be revealed to his companions but to everyone else watching. Meanwhile Ezekiel, who doesn't know that him being involved in this mission is some sort of um penance for his involvement in that Unfortunate Incident, tries his hardest to sabotage he show by being the most outspoken when pointing out a lot of hypocrisies within religious institutions and in ph society in general (he refuses to tell the other two that they are in a show though because if that happens, he knows the Narrators, Joshua especially will um get very heavily scolded by the producers and despite everything, he still cares for Joshua a lot). I'd say that these two are the ones that push the plot the most - one wants to push the show accordingly to plan in order to please the audience and the producers and in order to not let his and Ezekiel's secret go out while the other wants to push the show off-script in retaliation against the producers (and yes the Unfortunate Incident involved the time travelling thingy which is why he really wants to sabotage this). In fact, these two have 2 duets that are basically them trying to convince the other to go along with their plan ("Interpretasyon" which means Interpretation and "Sikreto" which means secret). This dynamic involves um yea trying to convince the other to switch sides gjxjd and um reconciliation, responsibility out of guilt, and what it means to forgive oneself (forgiveness is a common theme here) and to start to heal from trauma and to not deny the existence of said trauma any longer.

NOW ORIGINALLY I REALLY DID NOT INTEND THE JOSHUA AND EZEKIEL DYNAMIC TO BE GAY BUUTT WHEN I WAS THINKING OF THE LYRICS, I REALIZED THAT OUT OF CONTEXT, IT SOUNDED VERY GAY SO UM HERE'S AN EXCERPT OF SIKRETO (still not finished writing the thingy)

Joshua: (singing to Ezekiel) (this is also the first time Joshua sings a Filipino solo so this is him breaking the script for the first time) (also um yea the translations aren't direct translations cause I wanted to make them rhyme fnxnf) (So to those who know filipino i am terribly sorry cause yup this isnt an accurate translation fjfjd)

Ang natitirang alaala ay aking binura (I have scrubbed away all the memories that may have still remained)

‘di ko na sila kilala (I don't know them anymore)

Kinalimutan na kita (I have forgotten about your name)

Ngunit ang bigat ng pagsisisi ang aking dinadala (But the weight of regret, I carry all the same)

Ang sakit sa balikat, lagi kong dinarama (I constantly feel the sting of my shoulders' pain)

Pero masasabi ko pa rin na sinusubukan kong itama (But at least I can say, I tried to right-)

Ang aking mga pagkakamali (all that's wrong)

Ikaw, saan ka pumunta? (What about you? Where in the world have you gone?)

Tumakbo ka lang at iniwan mo ako (You ran, you just ran, and left me behind)

Sa pagbubuhat ng kasalanan at sikreto (In carrying the sins and secrets, and you paid me no mind)

Pero pinapanatili ko paring malinis ang ating munting kwento (But I stillade sure I kept our little story clean)

Patuloy na sinisigurong ‘di nila malalaman ang totoo (I kept on making sure the truth would never be seen)

Alam na natin ang kwento (We already know the story)

Alam na natin ang kwentong kailangang itago (We know the story that we need to hide)

Itong munting sikreto ay kailangan burahin (This little secret that has to be erased)

Ating pagkakamali, patuloy na bubuhatin (We will have to always carry, our sins and our mistakes)

Alam na natin ang kwento (We already know the story)

Alam natin ang katotohanan ng nakaraan (We very well know the truth of the past)

Ito'y nakabakas sa isipan, ‘di natin malilimutan (We'll never forget what will remain ingrained in our minds)

At sa Diyos na lang natin mahahanap ang kapatawaran (And from only God could we find forgiveness for what we left behind)

Habang buhay bubuhatin ng konsensiya (Forever will our consciences bear the weight and carry

ang ating pagkakasala, ang kwento't sikreto nating dalawa (our sins kept in secrecy, the story of you and me)

Pero ngayon, ‘di ko alam paano pero nalaman nila (But now, I don't know how, but somehow they know)

At ngayon, dinedemanda na nila ang penitensya (And now, penitence is what they demand)

Kaya ngayon, naghihingi ako ng pasensiya (So now, patience and forgiveness is what I ask)

Sa iyo at sa kanila (From you and from them)

Sa aking gagawin at mga nagawa (for what I'll do and I've done)

Baka nga (Perhaps)

Tama nga mga sinabi mo (What you've said all this time is right)

Na ‘di tayo ang tanging may sala rito (That we aren't the ones only at fault here)

Pero ‘di ko matatakasan ang aking naging tungkulin (But I can't really escape my little role here, because)

Sana ‘di mo nakalimutan: lahat sila nakatingin (God I hope you haven't forgotten: they're all looking at us)

Lagi silang nakatingin (Always looking at us)

Kahit ano man ang iyong gawin (No matter what we do)

Tayo'y mananatili sa entablado (On the stage we shall stay)

At lahat sila nakatingi- (And the stares still won't go awa-) (He then realizes that he's on stage and Should Not Be Having A Breakdown In Front Of The Audience Because Duh and Because That's Not Part Of The Script)

SO UM YEA IN RETROSPECT SOME OF THOSE LYRICS COULD ALSO REFER TO SOME SECRET NOT-PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP THAT THE AUDIENCE DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT YET (because the Secret doesn't get revealed til much later) WHEN IN ACTUALITY IT'S ABOUT THE TRUTH BEHIND WHAT HAPPENED 3 YEARS PRIOR TO THE EVENTS IN THE SHIW AND NOT GONNA LIE,,, THEM BEING IN A NOT-SO-PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP KINDA ALSO WORKS SO I'M CONSIDERING MAKING THEM HAVE SOME ROMANTIC HISTORY TOO JDHXBSJF

Oki that's all for today hdhdh there are two more characters (narrators 4 and 5) but i'm still working on them and i kinda wanna make the both of them not cis cause WHY NOT also i have been typing this for like 6 hours now and i'm tired and hungry so tjjxjs anyways if you read to the end, I'm sending you carbonara-

#I HAVE TYPED THIS #FOR 6 HOURS #I AM SO FUCKING TIRED GJXJSJJD #ARI I AM SO SO SORRY I WAS NOT EXPECTING FOR THIS WHOLE THING TO BE THIS LONG #but i guess thats what happens when you work on a thingy for 4 years fjsjf #FBZJSJJF ARI MY DUDE UM GOODLUCK AAAAAAA #God i hope you make it to the end gjxjdjf #um feel free to like reblog this in the tags if you wanna express ur thoughts there! i'd love to know what you think about this clusterfuck #the same goes for anyone woo feel free to rb if u wanna!!#SO ANYWAYS I AM TIRED AND WILL NOW EAT CARBONARA #once again ari i am so sorry jfhxhf #ari! (wattblr tag rambler yay!)#ask me stuff #izzy's rambles and shit #religion tw #ask to tag

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candiliam328 · 3 years

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So um… pianist Five, huh?

Hey, @kakakuroo? Remember that playlist? The one with the classical pieces I think Five should play?

Um, I made it...

and um, it’s about 40 minutes long (sorry). Highkey, it was originally longer, but then, I decided to focus on pieces that I think would resonate with our current Five as the pianist playing them.

But... oops I made myself sad.

Note: I said “our current” Five and yes, that means our post-season 2 Five.

(….. interestingly enough, I do have a few pieces in mind for pre-apocalypse, actually 13-year-old Five and some pieces for apocalypse Five....)

These aren’t even pieces that I think would actually play in the context of the show (yes, I have pieces for that too), but really, just pieces that I think Five would vibe with *as the pianist playing them.*

Now, a warning: I’m about to go on a whole thing about why I think this is the case, so if you don’t want to be bothered with me blabbing in depth about music and unnecessarily projecting onto a fictional character, don’t click keep reading…..

OK, HERE WE GO

(Special shoutout goes to @disco-tea for letting me ramble about this with her for literal weeks)

Full disclaimer: I am NOT a music major nor do I claim to be super knowledgeable in music theory. This is just my personal take and experience and LOL I’m just a (barely) pianist with enough knowledge of music theory and composers to shitpost about them occasionally and apparently a lot of emotions about pianist!five (lol).

So, yeah, UM ANY ACTUAL MUSICIANS PLEASE DISREGARD THIS ENTIRE POST OMG – I’M ASHAMED.

ANYWAY --

Most of the pieces I included are by Chopin.

Bit of background: Frederic Chopin was a Polish composer of the Romantic era and a virtuosic pianist. At the core of his artistic process was improvisation and his pieces are known for their lyrical quality. The way his pieces are written allows for a lot of interpretation from the pianist performing the pieces.

But what do we mean by interpretation?

… oof um, where do I even start…

Okay, so each musician and in fact, each performance of a musician has a different interpretation, a different feeling if you will. There’s a certain level of flexibility in how you perform any piece and there’s a fine line each performer has to walk between being respectful to the source material and adding your own kind of flavor.

But what does that sound like? For pianists in particular, we’ll play around with articulation, phrasing, dynamics, pedaling, and (most importantly for this post) rubato.

Chopin pieces tend to be played with a lot of rubato.

Now, what’s that? Well, to be honest with you, in my head, rubato has always been a fancy term for “messing around with the rhythm of the piece.” There are some pieces for which you absolutely cannot do this (like a march, where you need to keep constant time), but remember, Chopin was a fan of improvisation, so he always had a “go with the flow” kind of thing going.

Rubato means you can stretch some beats and speed through others – it allows you to build suspense and breathe some life into your piece. That way, it’s not boring for the audience and it gets you invested as the pianist.

Speaking from experience, some pieces require you to be vulnerable as the pianist playing them. These pieces that utilize tons of rubato? They practically demand it. You have to pour a little bit of yourself into them and allow yourself to feel the piece and get in your head a little to do justice to the notes the composer wrote. Inherently, each time you play the piece, your performance will be different and will sound different. You know the journey the piece is going to take you on, but not even you know exactly how your piece is going to sound -- it’s all about how you feel in the moment.

(And yeah, that’s why all the videos in the playlist show you the actual pianist playing the pieces -- sorry, I tried to find versions that had the least amount of coughing and clapping, but… live performances *shrugs*. It’s important for the sake of this (long-ass) analysis that you realize there is an actual person behind the music, feeling the notes and sharing themselves with you through the music.)

Now, I’m here to tell you that it can be incredibly therapeutic to play these pieces alone. For no one else. Just you and the piano. You can be feeling all these emotions and you can pour them into these gorgeous pieces and you can hear the emotions as well. Yeah, and remember that fine line I talked about for interpretation? That’s out the window. You’re just playing for you. You can stretch out this measure for as long as you want or you can rush through this run as much as you feel. You are completely free to manipulate this piece to how you feel in that moment and just play your feelings out. And it’s amazing.

...

And yup, all that brings us to our favorite time-traveling assassin.

Post-season 2 Five... um… he’s had a rough few days to say the least.

He was so close to getting his siblings safe back in their timeline, but he just… can’t… seem… to… do… it… right.

He’s been on edge for so long now that he seems kind of... weary?

What was it the old man said?

“I’m too tired.”

Anyway, there’s… emotions. He’s got a lot of them.

But he’s shit at being able to express himself non-violently, especially when the emotion isn’t anger. (and whenever he has tried to be vulnerable, it hasn't necessarily ended well...)

He needs another outlet. One that forces him to be vulnerable and honest with himself.

Enter: The piano. And these beautiful pieces with tons of room for rubato and self-expression.

(Let the man feel his feelings and play his heart out gdi.)

Now, if all I cared about was room for rubato, I could have chosen from a billion other pieces. So why would Five vibe with these ones in particular?

Well, I’m not going to use any musical terminology, because that’s not what matters here. I’m talking about the journey the pieces take you on as a pianist and as a listener. Give it a real close listen.

None of these pieces feel like they’ve “arrived.”

None of them feel “grounded” or “settled.”

They’re all kind of wandering… yearning for something possibly beyond their reach.

(Perhaps a desire to relive the past. Perhaps an unattainable dream.)

So, yeah, if I had to name the vibe, I would call it “longing”… but maybe with a twinge of “resignation.”

For 45 years, Five was wandering about in the apocalypse, longing to return home. His primary motivator became to return to his family and to go home. To keep them safe. Maybe even settle down.

And this hasn’t changed for the entirety of the series.

…

But what can he even call his home now?

And will he ever be able to rest?

#yeets this mess to the masses #tldr i saw pianist five and i went ham with it #let five rest 2k21 #god i hope ya'll at least can vibe with the playlist #im just really rambly #tbh this kind of just #wrote itself #and ran away from me #and um #yeah this isn't the soundtrack analysis i promised but.... its music?#consider it a preview?#of how blabby i can get over music?#(oops)#but highkey i *do* have pieces in mind for way too many different scenarios for pianist five #pieces and hcs for baby five learning piano #pieces for five in the apocalypse #hcs for pieces that i believe could be worked into the show #also reasons for why i included each piece in *this playlist*#yike ya'll #do not threaten me or else i *will* post about them #tua #number five #five hargreeves #does this count as meta?#meta #anyway off i go to delete tumblr from my phone again #see ya'll soon ahhaaha #my ramblings #pianist five

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 3 years

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Careless laughter

A/N: I was inspired to write this fanfiction when I read about the story of Andrew getting waisted a lot during the time that Wham! was recording their album Make it big at Chateau Minerval in France. It is 100% a work of fiction and the way I write Andrew and George here is very personal and has nothing to do with the real people. Writing fanfic about real people is very strange business, but to anyone who enjoys reading this: thank you very much and I hope you like the Wham! in my fictitious little world. This is in parts a tickle fanfic, so I literally just project a lot onto poor Andrew and George and I hope you Wham! fans who read this can forgive me and maybe even like it. Alright, that’s it! Have fun :)

“George, please... George! George, won’t you at least look at me?”

Andrew groaned when George stood up and walked past him, tense like a brick and with an expression of unfiltered anger. He grabbed something off a shelf in the recording room - which was actually more of a hall - and was about to go back to the mixing desk when Andrew strongly gripped for his wrist and held him back. Andrew’s head felt like it was stuck in a helmet. He was seriously too hungover for a fight with his best friend.

George whirled around and tried furiously to free his arm from Andrew’s iron grip, but he couldn’t get away. Despite his headache Andrew kept the blank expression of someone who knows that they’re stronger and after a few more futile, angry attempts to get free George stopped, breathing heavily with his blond hair fluffed up like a cloud on his heated head.

“Will you talk to me now?” Andrew waited for a reaction, but didn’t get one which led to him gripping his best friend’s wrist a little tighter. George hissed and was forced to look Andrew in the eyes. They stayed like this for a moment, George steaming with anger, Andrew determined and stubborn. George’s anger seemed to vanish in parts as Andrew’s solid glare kept imploring unshakenly. “Well?”

With a tired expression mixing into George’s angry mask he gritted his teeth and nodded once, harsh and short. Andrew let go off his arm and pointed to the wide entrance behind them that led to an incredible garden, flooded with sunlight and covered in flowers and nice shadowy spaces from some huge trees. “Come on, you can get it all off your chest, yes?”

They’d spent very little time in that paradise together until now. Andrew had been out and about with two of his oldest friends ever since they’d arrived in South France. He was still overwhelmed by the beauty of this place as he stepped out onto the red terrace with George.

They sat down of a white bench placed in front of the wall of the recording “hall”. For a while they merely listened to the birds and insects and the very low mumble of the wind. It was afternoon and the sun was already yawning, less strong and bright than during midday. It could have been a wonderful moment, sitting there, holding their faces in the gentle caresses of the sun, maybe sipping a coke together. Then Andrew noticed George’s body started humming with tension again. It didn’t seem capable to hold all the mixed emotions together inside. He prepared for a storm.

“I’m so sick of your fucking antics!” George got out between gritted teeth, turning his head away from Andrew, the sunlight meeting his hair, making it look like a golden shield between them.

Andrew looked down at the terracotta tiles, the gentle breeze ruffling his black hair. He nodded merely noticeably and tried not to sigh. “I know.”

“You know,” George swallowed, a lump as big as their overwhelming success in his throat and seemed to choke on it in the most painful way. “You gave me a near heart attack yesterday. Seeing you in the bathtub like this, your friends trying to make you look like a person again, minutes before we had to do the special for The Tube... I was so angry at you. I was so worried, but I am constantly worried at the moment, because I’m trying to produce a fucking album here. And then I see you like this. You are not helping with that. You make me worry about you as well. I thought we were going to have a good time here. I thought you’d be here with me. I thought-”

The lump made it so hard for George to talk that he had to stop. His shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. Andrew felt the entire array of fears, anger and wishes of his best friend and a big wave of dread rushed through him. His lips turned into a thin line and his fists clenched in his lap. He avoided looking directly at George’s shaking form, keeping his gaze directed at the warm tiles underneath his shoes. The wind was just a huff around them, but it managed to make Andrew shiver now.

“I thought we were going to do this together.” George said in a more stern voice now, but the sadness in this line nevertheless dripped out of it like water from a sponge. You couldn’t see it at first. But he was full of it.

Andrew did sigh now and dared to sneak a glance at his friend’s face. George looked disappointed, lonely and sad and it hurt Andrew as much as it managed to give him something back that he’d talked himself out of previously: that he was important for Wham!, that he was important to George, that he was needed for the band. He could barely stand George’s disappointment and he felt overwhelmed by the strong emotion of George’s unbroken affection despite Andrew’s behaviour of late. With a sniff he nodded to himself and carefully leaned in closer to his friend, looking for some kind of contact, for the usual warmth between them.

George didn’t look at him, bent over to pluck out some grass to pick at, but settled back down on the bench with their shoulders touching again, the way Andrew had initiated before. Andrew tried not too smile too widely at that. He knew George couldn’t stay resentful. They just weren’t like that. They both had a strong desire to be taken seriously and they could argue a lot. But they couldn’t stay mad at each other beyond a certain point. They were too close for that.

“George, I’m sorry.” Andrew pushed him gently with his shoulder, but George remained in his half-adverse posture - not pushing Andrew away, but neither initating any form of contact himself. “I’m truly sorry. I don’t want you to worry about me. I think I was trying to distract myself a bit too much there, wasn’t I? You know that I am not jealous of you, that I’m happy for you, right? I think your work is breath-taking. But I guess sometimes I feel a little... overwhelmed. And I worry. I know people talk about me, I know what they think about me and my position in the band. I just... sometimes I want to get away from all the thoughts that come, that just come then. I don’t really want to think them.”

Now George directed his gaze directly at Andrew and it was Andrew’s turn to look away. He tried to avoid the hurt expression on his face, the furrowed brows and the helpless glare. But it didn’t work.

“Andrew, you know that I don’t see it that way. I need you here. Wham! is not me, it’s us. I need you in this. Obviously. I can’t do this alone. We’ve always done this together. Even if I’m writing the songs, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t a lot more to do than just that.”

Andrew shrugged and changed the position of his feet. He couldn’t hide that the bad opinions and the malice he was receiving from outside were messing with his head and his self-esteem. George tried to catch his sight.

“You don’t have to act according to the fucking press. They don’t tell you who you are, Andy.”

George now searched for contact as well, squeezing his shoulder against Andrew’s and tilting his head closer. “Please, help me, Andy. Stay here for a while. Please.”

Andrew huffed at that, a smile pulling at his features. He met George’s imploring gaze, his chest still heavy, but his head a little lighter. “I will only be in the way. All I will do is sit there and repeat to you how good it all is. All that comes from here.”

George made a grimace when Andrew used his left hand to knock on his forehead. He smiled reluctantly and turned his head to really look at him. “When you’re around I know that you’e not getting in trouble. You being here, enthusiastic about the music and the fact the we are making our second album together gives me the confidence in our music that I lack when you’re gone. Your are the spirit of Wham!’s music, don’t you know that?”

Andrew looked back at George and saw that his friend’s anger was gone now. His eyes were shimmering slightly and his expression seemed to say “Yes, believe it or not, you fool, that is the truth” forcing Andrew to smile at him.

“Yep. Well, George, Wham! is all about fun. So, of course, I am its spirit.”

George groaned and rolled his eyes, taking his head away from its position close to Andrew’s shoulder and bringing some distance between them again. His smile remained. “Yes, I am real buzzkill.”

“You are. Totally. You’re so lucky to have me.”

“Mhm.”

A huge grin appeared on Andrew’s features as he noticed the two of them were back to their bickering selfs. “Without me you just mope, like you do right now.”

“It’s with or without you, Andy!”

“No, no, I’m taking the blues away.”

“You make me sick. Especially with your colored white strands. You look like a bird shat on your head.”

“Excuse me?!”

“It literally looks like shit, Andrew!” George repeated teasingly, eyes widening when he saw Andrew narrow his own. He knew that look and it didn’t exactly promise peace and harmony.

“You know what’s really sickening, though? I will give you something sickening!”

George opened his mouth to fire something back at Andrew, but his friend was suddenly grabbing for him, trying to pull him off the bench. George took this a his cue to rip free and run for his life, but Andrew had other plans for him. Before he could so much as reach the middle of the garden Andrew had his arms around George’s middle and wrestled him to the ground as if he was a mere flower on a field. George couldn’t do anything about his hysterical sounding laughter as Andrew pushed him into the grass. His blond hair glowed in the sunlight like an open treasure chest, which was nothing in comparison to his shining smile that took over his entire face as Andrew kept him on his back while breaking through his hectic defenses and squeezing his sides viciously.

George kicked and wiggled and squealed for his life, laughing so much that Andrew couldn’t help but laugh along. They hadn’t played around like that for what seemed like two years now. Ever since they’d gotten famous. For the first time in a long time now Andrew felt like he was on the same level as his best friend again. It felt like they were just two boys who had been friends since childhood and therefore knew each other like brothers. Laughing this outgoingly together set something free in Andrew again and he realized he hadn’t been himself for longer than he’d liked to admit. The sight of George choking on his giggles, his eyes squeezed shut from the sensations of the ticklish torture as he twisted his head around in the grass - for once not caring that it would get messed up in the process - shot a bang of love through Andrew’s chest and he didn’t feel like stopping any time soon.

“What did you say about my hair, George?” He asked teasingly, as he wrestled George’s arms to the ground, basking in his terrified squeaks as he managed to pin them down with a single hand.

“NO ANDY!” George kept kicking and laughing and tearing at his pinned wrists as Andrew evilly wiggled the fingers of his free hand around in front of George’s face. “PLEASE DON’T!!”

“I just asked you a simple question, my cherished friend.” Andrew grinned as George squealed in fear when he lowered his hand in the direction of his ribs. He hadn’t had that much fun when he got wasted out of his mind the nights before. This was a whole different level and he only realized now how much he’d missed the fun he’d always had with George.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” Andrew poked George’s exposed ribs and chuckled when it caused a breathless fit of high-pitched giggles. George’s eyes were squeezed together tightly as a sort of defense against the unbearable feeling of getting tickled that way.

“PLEHEHEHEASE STOP!!”

“I’m barely touching you.” Andrew smirked, loving the way George’s laughter showed off his singing talent. “You know this is great training for your next Careless Whisper, don’t you agree? Some Careless Laughter maybe?”

Andrew enjoyed George’s strong reaction to having his ribs and sides poked relentlessly, the way he tried to keep his giggles at bay and failed miserably. He shook his head wildly, his bond locks flying as he could barely form any coherent words through his laughter. “ANDY! I CAN’T TAHAKE IT! PLEASE STOHOHOP!!”

“No, you know it looks like you’re having an awful lot of fun.” Andrew said matter of factly and started wiggling his fingers into George’s ribs, chuckling at the immediate booming laughter the touch evoked.

“I’M DIHIHIYNG!” George got out dramatically after taking a deep breath to fuel even more laughter. “PLEHEHEASE, ANDY, YOU’RE KILLING MEHEHE!”

George changed pitch when Andrew’s tickling fingers reached his armpit, making George reach the full capacity of his voice.

“Oh, right, this is a killer spot. I totally forgot. I’m so glad we talked, George. This is really important information.”

George could only shake his head and laugh on as Andrew exploited the ticklish spot a while longer, before deciding that maybe he could show a bit of mercy. He smirked and kept on tickling, as he asked: “Now, are you taking back what you said about my hair?”

“Yes!! YES!! I TAKE IT BAHACK!! STOP PLEHEHEASE!”

Andrew chuckled and let go off George’s arms, leaving him more of a chance of self-defence as he sneakily took his chance to attack both of his sides at the same time, leading to George continuing his laughter with a very accusing sound to it. He twisted around on the grass and tried to tear Andrew’s hands away from his sides. “NO STOHOP STOP!! I TOOK IT BACK!!”

Andrew laughed when George managed to roll out from underneath him and held his hands up in defense, panting with red cheeks and glaring despite the huge smile on his face.

“I know you didn’t really take it back. You only wanted me to stop tickling you.”

“OBVIOUSLY!”

With a wave of his hand Andrew gave George a sign that he wouldn’t attack again, as he put his hands up on his knees, bent over, slightly out of breath himself. George sat up and immediately tried to tame his wild hair, groaning and panting and trying to seem somewhat fed up with Andrew. It didn’t work at all. There was no way George could have managed to stop grinning.

“You had fun!” Andrew stated, laughing and pointing at George’s face.

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did!”

“Ugh.” With a groan George lay back down in the grass and huffed some strands of hair out of his forehead. He twitched away, when Andrew threw himself down beside him, making Andrew laugh again as he innocently held up his hands.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had my revenge. Seriously an outrageous insult though!” Andrew pulled at his colored strands of hair and held them in the sunlight, his shoulder touching George’s again as they stared at the cloudless sky and tried to regain a normal breathing pattern.

“You sound like a little girl when you giggle like that.”

“Shut up, Andrew!” George said without any real vigor behind it as he crossed his hands over his stomach and listened to Andrew rambling out a few more insults, thoughts and ideas for the album. He was glad to have him back.

---------

So I’m tagging @heysucker1963 and @captainkrakenandtheaquanauts because you guys kindly showed some interest in this fanfiction and if you want to let me know if you want more / if you liked it, I would gladly oblige. ;) Absolutely no pressure though if you don’t want to read it after all!! Also if you want to listen to George laughing really carelessly, check this out, I tend to melt when it comes to 5:47. Cuuuute.

#tickling #wham!#george michael #andrew ridgeley #fanfiction #real people fanfiction #ticklish!george #tickle fanfic #hurt/comfort #make it big era #i like happy boys #i like george laughing #i'd fought the desire to write wham! fanfic but i couldn't anymore #is it weird? yeahh #do i post it anyway? suuure #tbh the two of them just exhibit real ticklish energy

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bloodyncse · 3 years

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heyyyyyy i’m amanda. this is jody lunchbox my boy. i wrote him literally five years ago (weird as fuck) and he’s not the worst brand of white boy out there but... he’s up there. gonna put all that fun shit under a cut. pls validate me

TL;DR : street rat oldest of seven children, makeshift dad (not daddy), needs money and attention and can’t get no satisfaction. yknow

NAME: jody benjamin lynch AGE: 24 BIRTH DATE: july 17th 1996 ZODIAC: cancer sun, leo moon SEXUAL ORIENTATION: closeted pansexual FINANCIAL CLASS: lower HOMETOWN: irving, sc EDUCATION LEVEL: has his GED after dropping out in 11th grade FACE CLAIM: luke hemmings ADDICTION(S): nicotine but none of that vape god shit DRUG/ALCOHOL USE: regularly

the oldest of seven, yes you read that right, SEVEN fucking children, jody has never known peace a day in his life. long lost are mom and dad, coming and going like the changing seasons. like cases of chlamydia.

has been money hungry since the beginning of time. stickin his little grabby baby hands into fountains, stealing wishes for a couple bucks in change. if you’re suddenly missing some cash, you know where to point fingers.

king of odd jobs, works commonly at palm motel doing whatever the hell is needed on any given day. usually clerk/handyman bullshit. once, one of the guests gave him a handjob for unclogging the shower drain, so he says its a decent gig.

in general he’s very self reliant and capable. views life as a fixer upper project. plus, he’s got mouths to feed, so his work ethic isn’t exactly optional.

in secret, he’s actually obsessed with becoming wealthy some day, constantly stalking rich bitches on instagram. probably has a small following on tiktok. doesn’t want to hoard wealth but damn can a motherfucker get some spending money?

a pretty silly, happy dude. sometimes a bit jaded but who isn’t? loyal to a fault. flirty and charming but in a dirty, used condom kind of way.

ok here are some lame ass fun facts

keeps lists like crazy. groceries, chores, pickup times, appointments. surprisingly organized even if it’s all scribbled on a napkin

technically shares a bedroom with his two youngest siblings, so he can be found often sleeping on the couch or in whatever person of interest’s bed he can slither into for the night

drives a shitty geo metro that he paid $450 dollars for

not musically inclined in the slightest

hates most sports but is a pretty fast runner for no reason

surprisingly good at cooking? like its not his fave but he’s just had to do it so much that he’s fairly skilled, especially with limited ingredients

wants to be on a reality tv show so fucking bad

bleached his hair and it looks horrendous, just wants to live out his eboy dream. scruffy as hell, doesn’t shave much

still uses a cracked iphone 5

insecure about his wide ass shoulders and thick thighs sdfasdfs he’s like bitch i’m starving why do i look like this

sends a lot of voice messages

will literally pay for things with his body if he’s gotta

thx for reading lmfao gonna do a seperate post for wanted plots once i have them compiled yee

#irvingintro

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calypsoff2 · 3 years

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One.

Licking my top lip as I walked into Tianna classroom “We have Tianna’ dad here, shall we all go outside and celebrate Tianna’ birthday” my daughter’ teacher said, Tianna pulled a face at me looking down, she didn’t want drama, so she says but it’s my daughter birthday, I’m gonna do a little something for her “yes!! Do we get cake!?” A kid in the classroom shouted, nodding my head “there is cake and food, the whole nine for her class. Tianna is paying you see” I joked, Tianna ain’t getting up from her seat to see me with her moody ass “if we all want to form a line so we can go outside and can we all thank Tianna’ dad too for doing this” making my way over to Tianna, she is either happy or moody, she is smiling either way “Thank you Tianna’ dad” the class said, crouching down to her “you not getting up from your seat, I got cake. Uncle TJ is here too, I got him to dress up as a Bratz doll” Tianna laughed “liar, that means he dresses like a girl” nodding my head “that’s because he does, I don’t get why you don’t want a party? What is wrong?” My daughters keep saying I do their hair badly; I think they are right with that point, Tianna hair is struggling “I don’t want it, I don’t want cake either” rolling my eyes “right, is that because mom didn’t FaceTime you, I told you baby. The time difference is really big, she was asleep. I mean I am not excusing her for not doing it but she knows how hectic it gets in the morning, Imani is demanding and you know that, but she will make it up to you. I am here anyways; Rylee is also coming out of class for you. You love Rylee don’t you” she nodded her head “come then, big seven for you baby. I can’t believe my baby is growing up so much” getting up from my position “I think she is ready now” Tianna is hundred percent the moody child, but I think it’s because of being the middle child and the fact she was born so close to Rylee, a year between them. She always kind of lived under that, I don’t think she got Robyn like Rylee did in a weird way, and also Tianna put Robyn’ plans back a lot and then she got pregnant again, like she was not happy about it but it happened. It sucks but it’s like Robyn is sacrificing her family time for this, I am doing it all and I can only do my best with these girls. They be stressing a nigga out, especially Rylee. She gives me heart pains and Imani; those two girls alone drive me crazy I am getting grey.

Tianna is getting shy as we made our way outside and her class started to sing Happy Birthday to her, looking down at her as she held my hand with a grip trying to hide away. Trying to pull her forward “come here” picking her up “Happy Birthday dear Tianna” I joined in smiling at my beautiful baby, she is so overwhelmed with her grumpy self picking her up “awww Happy Birthday princess, you going to blow the candles out baby, let’s do it” she’s so emotional “dad, I’ll do it for her” Rylee said stood right next to the cake “watch out, go on baby. Blow the candles out” leaning her down “hurry up Ti!!” Rylee spat; she eventually blew the candles out “yay!! Big girl, a whole seven years old” stepping back and placing her down on the ground “you like it baby? It’s bratz? You like bratz” she nodded her head, crouching down to her “you like? I’m glad you do” pressing a kiss to her cheek “TT, why are you crying for” TJ asked, wrapping my arms around her “she is overwhelmed” looking over at Rylee, she is busy wanting to eat “awww it’s ok, your friends are here” her little friends are just staring at her “why is she crying?” Her little white friend asked, “she is missing her mommy that is all, but she is ok” she moved back from me “I’m ok dad” she said that still emotional as hell “you sure?” I laughed a little “yes daddy” she sniffled; she is trying to be strong again. Rylee made her way over to me “come and eat now Ti, you are creating drama” Rylee said, she is forever headstrong that girl “she will, sit down. We will come and eat” getting up from my position, she is so sensitive this girl of mine.

I was expecting to go home but I am sat with my daughters eating lunch with them “remember, uncle is going to pick you up after school, I need to do a little interview and I won’t be able too so he will come and get you three. I will see you at home and then we leave for London, I am taking you out of school for this” Tianna clapped her hands “remember, this secret is between us. You don’t tell mommy, ok?” These girls can be such snitches, so I need to make sure they are on my side “so why was Tianna sad?” Rylee asked, “she is missing mom, we all are and it’s ok to be sad about it” I added, I don’t mind them being sad about it, I don’t want them to keep this to themselves now “mommy didn’t call” Tianna sad little voice “she called me” Rylee is a pain, side eyeing her “she called the phone, but you were asleep” I shushed her “why she call you!?” Here these two go “ok, that mobile phone is being taken off you both, you can’t share so you both not having it! Stop” girls are a pain, drive me crazy with their pettiness “dad, why Rylee call mom and I can’t?” Tianna turned in my lap “you were being a pain, remember you had to go bed early for being cheeky. Doesn’t matter now, just finish your food” I am tired, I need a break from these girls too. I am pretty much the stay at home dad, I may be in Fenty Corp, but these girls make me so busy that Jen is doing all of the work, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Now that is out of the way I can go to this big boy interview; I am blessed to be invited for this “how long you going to be out in London bro?” G asked, I shrugged “I am not sure, wife is just busy as hell. Like she is just throwing things out, one after another. At one point I didn’t know she was in Mexico at one point; I just know she is in London right now and I want to catch her there. It’s her Fenty clothing line fashion thing, so she’s there right now. I know she is missing us. So I will let you know” funny that she is calling when I am speaking on her, answering the call “Rabbit killer, you missed my middle pookie birthday celebrations” it sounds so busy in the background “don’t Chris, I already feel awful about this. I feel like shit already, sometimes I just think if I am doing wrong. I did ask Rylee to put Tianna on, but she said she got told off, I am missing so much Chris. I just feel stressed right now, I feel so bad, but I know if I FaceTimed her I would be crying but I feel bad, how is she?” Robyn asked; I know Robyn is feeling it, she is feeling a lot of pressure. She did have to stop and start projects, things got delayed because of her getting pregnant, and then again she did but we good over here, I mean the girls do miss her when she’s gone “very emotional, wants mommy and why didn’t mommy call and then Rylee kind of stirred the pot and said I spoke to her and I told her off, but we all miss you” which we do, I don’t want to pressure my wife like that “same, what about my little pumpkin. She’s still being the menace?” I chuckled “she’s still being the sly naughty one, if she draws on her stomach one more time, I’m gonna snap” I chuckled “you’re so good to them, I said to Rylee don’t be hard on him, she goes he doesn’t do hair like you, he isn’t you. We want you, but I said he tries but you are being the best dad ever, they are lucky” I cooed out “thanks, trying though babe” it’s hard as fuck to bring up girls, I do struggle sometimes.

Since being with Robyn, since being a father to three girls it has really humbled me so much and I’ve changed, I know I have changed a lot. I got new friends, new circle. Investing in things, I am big on social media, I do club events, not so much now but I am well known so when Big Boy asked if I wanted to come on for a sit down of course I said yes, he’s a good guy “good seeing you again” getting up from the seat and dapping him “you too, the show is about to start. I had to pee, sit down. We can have a good talk; this guy is a genius. We want to know what it is like to be married to Rihanna” I laughed as he sat down, Herb is with me here, but Big Boy is funny “in ten seconds” the producer announced, chewing on my bottom lip waiting to be counted in. Looking over at Herb “you going to spit bars?” shaking my head “that isn’t business like, we got to be professional bro. Relax” he is dumb “big boy radio, I told y’all we have everyone and anybody on the show and I have been seeing this guy a lot, you all may know him as Breezy, Chris Brown or Rihanna’ husband or for me. The luckiest motherfucker on this planet” I chuckled “we have Chris Brown on the show!” he shouted, the producers in the room clapped “what’s up?” I said smiling “we got Herb, Chris’ prodigy and friend. I just want to introduce Chris properly; I feel like I am not giving him the props and that is unfair of me. We have a young black man that was locked up, he’s come out, put his head down. Opened a clothing line, met his wife, ended up moving onto be a vice president, modelled. And then now he is moving onto handling music artists. He has given back to single fathers, you have a foundation specifically for single black fathers, I want to get into that really. How did that come about for you?” I feel proud of me, he didn’t even add Rihanna into that “erm, well I would be a hypocrite to say I know how it feels to be a single father or be in a household that has that but my best friend, my brother. He is a single father of a son. He lives in LA with his son and erm he just turned to me and said there is so many black fathers that are taking care of their kids with no help, nobody actually looks at them they see mothers. The help is always there for them, so we set up a group and we see these men just stepping up and it’s nice to see. We help them with getting jobs and stuff for the kids, tips too. It’s hard having daughters; I don’t know how anyone man does it without a woman to help them. So I have my mom come in, helps these men to do their daughters hair. She comes in every so often, because she is in VA, but they appreciate it so much. We have centres here and in New York, it’s beautiful to see black men stepping up because nobody ever speaks on them, we have that title that we don’t so yeah” rubbing the back of my head “amazing work Chris, it’s true. We don’t speak on that, we really don’t and when I read what you started, I thought yes. A black man helping other black men to rise, this is why when I saw you at Diddy party, I was donating. This is the moment, so I had to do this brother and get you on the show” dapping Big Boy as he reached his hand over to me.

“So Chris the biggest question here is, what is it like to be married to Rihanna? Come on, we all got that question, how long you been married for now? Seven, eight years now? You sure did put a ring on it quick too” I laughed “yeah, I had too. Actually it’s nine years and it has it’s testing times. Every marriage there is testing times like now, we are apart. She is in London, and I am here, I know people are saying. I say people but I know these people, they are like your home with the kids, and she is running around the country, one minute here, and the next she is in New Zealand and then China. This has nothing to do with them, I don’t mind it. My wife is living out her dream who am I to hold her back? I can work in Cali; I don’t need to be there. I can work from home and be here for the kids, why do we need to start jet setting around and disrupt the kids. I do miss her, it’s hard. Having three daughters, it’s so hard but being married to Rihanna is fruitful in many ways” I busted out laughing “as we can see, you got three kids nigga” Big Boy added “I don’t think it would have stopped, but Rihanna she had to hold back on her dream because she got pregnant again, then another year out, she released the album, and it was around the time she came back from the USA leg of the tour, she fell pregnant again, then her dream got put on hold again, so this whole Fenty Corp was in waiting for long, now I am kind of banned from sex” everyone laughed with me “I don’t blame her, how did you feel to have three girls? You must have felt damn, again!?” I sighed out “Rylee I was like yes, a girl. I am happy. Then with Tianna, we didn’t even find out, so I was like yes, a boy. Waiting there, the nurse turned to me and said girl, I was like ok I can take that, two girls. And then the third one, I shed a tear. Like not going to front, I did. But they are all my princesses, I am getting grey, quick too. I am going to die early; I am really just battling these girls. I got my youngest just being a wrecking ball, she is four and I be telling the eldest two and she is in the background just breaking the girl’s stuff, I don’t like telling her off because she reminds me of me” Big Boy cooed out “so you got a favourite?” I just smiled not saying a word “she is youngest too, so it happens brother” I miss Imani actually.

I haven’t packed anything come to think of it but I am home and I can only imagine the mess of the home, I do fucking miss Robyn. I be working hard here, it’s hard being here but I also don’t want to ask for help because it’s a think of if I ask my mom, then Monica doesn’t like it, she wants to be here too then Monica gets at Robyn because she isn’t home, she isn’t being a mother so it’s like I have to get on with it. Opening the front door, I can just hear screams of course. They are playing, it’s like schools out for them, I am taking them out of school just to go London to see Robyn, I miss her and the girls do too. Placing my car key in my pocket making my way to the noise “you kids are crazy” Imani saw me “mamacita!” she is just the sweetest “daddy” she ran to me “you been playing in dirt again?” picking her up, she didn’t answer me put yank my hat off “bro” walking towards TJ “just watching them play, they adamant they wanted to play in the pool” they really had to get the toys out “thanks for picking them up, you didn’t want to go in the water?” I asked “no!” she spat, frowning at her “I ain’t trust them with her, you know. So she stayed with uncle, didn’t you!” she nodded her head “he gave me cookies! I want juice” I bet she does after getting cookies “and what we say when we want cookies? The word” Imani played with my hat before placing it on her head “please!” she said it so I will.

These kids think they can get away with no cleaning the shit they bring out “Camron, I will whoop your ass too boy. Get your white ass outside and help” I caught him sneaking off “you know what TJ, this is the first time since Robyn left to go that we ordered pizza, I cook. Honest, but you know. It’s the night before we go so I thought why not, but once I get them all in bed then I will pack things” I dragged out, Robyn is calling. I stared at the call and then looked over at the kids “you not picking it up” I shook my head “if I do then they aren’t going to complete the task, and all they do. Including Imani will argue over the phone when she is on, I will call back when they are less hype. I am going to have it out with Robyn, not in a bad way but I want her to be at home more. Not even for me, the girls. It’s been a month now, she hasn’t been here, and they are missing her badly, I feel like I am not fulfilling their girly thing. Even Mel, she isn’t here none of the girls are so it’s like they miss that. We need to speak on it, they are growing, and they need her as much as they need me, you know” TJ nodding his head “tell her Camron does too” I chuckled “you take Tianna and I take Camron, I need a son” TJ laughed out “our kids are so lucky, I was just thinking and I am like the life they live is blessed, I am happy though. I am glad I have Camron with me” my smile grew, Rylee mean mugged me. She is Robyn, she hates when I am smiling when she is cleaning “I deadass nearly fell out laughing, Rylee came into bedroom and obviously Robyn ain’t here, so I am like clothes on the floor here and there, she goes mom doesn’t allow clothes on the floor dad, it’s a mess, pick it up. I stared at her and was like oh my god. You are literally Robyn, scary though” it does scare me “I am training Camron to look after his sisters, he got three too” I feel for that boy, even Imani bullies him so he got a lot to deal with.

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