#this song has gotten me through some personally rotten times | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dropsofletters · 3 years

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avenue of tears

— summary: listening to the latest album of the living daydream that is the drummer jeon wonwoo isn’t quite the best idea when, supposedly, it’s written about an ex. missing him to bits, she decides to plug in her earphones, and get lost in the words written by him, for her, perfectly put together to describe what was once broken…but can now be healed.

— title: avenue of tears — pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader — genre: drummer!au ; podcast host!au ; friends to exes to strangers to lovers!au — type: fluff ; angst ; drama ; humor ; suggestive ; romance — word count: 19,796

For the first time in her life, she can say she is happy while having a sore-throat.

Well, there have been other good times in her life that have included such a symptom—the after-effects of a concert, the times in which she really believed the vocalists of the bands she loved would end up looking at her and falling in love, or when she screamed out of joy, whether on amusement park rides or from pure happiness. Having a voice is enough of a gift; saying and speaking out our thoughts, the most divine of talents that one can possess. Using that voice for the first time in her own podcast is a blessing.

Though, no amount of throat-clearing can get the staff backstage to open up some space for her to walk in. In some parts of her life, being talkative does not compare to being loud, and this is one of those moments she wishes her throat wasn’t dry and in the need for tea, simply to shout to the slow walker in front of her just so she can get to her boyfriend faster. Perhaps, feel the roughness of his calloused fingertips rub against her palm when they hold hands, and he gives her one of those lazy smiles that beg for her to give him a kiss.

The room has gray walls, and around four bands have gathered in the same space. She smells everyone’s deodorants mingling together, and she doesn’t know if the stench is favorable or she’d rather not smell anyone at all, even if it’s not an unpleasant smell. Masculinity exudes from every band, lacking the female character that should exist in rock by now, but someone’s bleached blonde strands of hair, long enough to reach that person’s waist, remind her that there is a representative of female power in this giant gig for small bands.

The vocalist of Wonwoo’s band.

The chopped strands of her hair are, thankfully, long enough to welcome the rotten pair of scissors she uses before every show, not standing split ends, and also not standing the way she calls out her real name. You see, one year ago, the vocalist would’ve been called Eunkyung, with pretty straight hair in chocolate brown, curves covered in small sprinkles of ink, sporting a little black dress of a nice day, but that’s far from the case. Now, Eunkyung has taken up the name Love, an ode to what she hates the most, cutting her hair like she cuts the men out of her life, sporting leather pants and chains falling from her shoulders, cheeks hollowed in absolute distaste of the place she finds herself in, but quite enjoying the bottle of beer she brings up to her mouth.

“Eunkyung!” She calls out again, waving her hand in the air but not getting a reaction. Instead, she stops on her tracks, the sole of her boots barely lifting from the ground as her eyes scan the room. Eunkyung stands out because of her hair, but it’d be difficult to find Wonwoo’s dark head of hair. “Love!”

With the bottle of beer perched up between her rosy lips, Love lifts her hand in the air to greet her, trying to call her over only to stop her ministrations. The little ounces of oxygen left in her lungs ask to remain on her chest before she passes out, her white boots probably dusty by the amount of people who have stepped on her.

Love moves in between the groups of people, pushing people away with a force that could barely be contained in her tall body, never once letting a single droplet of beer fall on the floor. Just when she reaches her, Love wraps her fingertips around her wrist, tutting her name out in a raspy tone, perfect for the edgy tune in the new band. “Shit, what are you doing just standing there? Could’ve gotten your shit stolen.”

Her hand absentmindedly cradles the back pocket of her jeans. Her phone is still there, thankfully. “Sorry, didn’t know I was dealing with prisoners and not with rock enthusiasts.”

Love chuckles at that, now much different from the person she used to be, tattooed up to her neck, flowers blooming on the thin skin. If she looks from close enough, she believes her jugular palpitates against the dark ink. “Here, they’re about the same.”

Once they reach the corner the band had taken up, she finally gets a glimpse of people she has met. In Wonwoo’s apartment last year, for example, when a list of names had been written on a whiteboard and each sounded worst than the last. A man with a burgundy and green beanie sits with his bass on his lap, thin legs parted and yet, seemingly thicker because of his baggy pants. His head is thrown back, as if the chatter around him doesn’t distract him from his thoughts, looking ahead at the ceiling as if there’s something interesting on there. She really does look up, just in case Hansol has found the secret to life in that damned white ceiling.

The bassist doesn’t seem to be paying attention when she directs the question towards Love. “What did he smoke?”

Love finishes her beer in one go, patting her hand against Hansol’s leg before taking a seat on it. The two childhood friends had been the ones to start this whole band ordeal—and to be quite honest, it’s all thanks to them that Wonwoo got the guts to be in a band. Love’s Midnight may not be doing quite well right now, but it will someday. “Vernon didn’t smoke a thing. If anything, I’m the one looking for a smoke.”

“Weed’s bad.” Hansol, or by his stage name Vernon, says from his spot as he finally concentrates on the conversation at hand. His brown eyes seem gentle, even when his dark eyebrows join in a frown. “You’re gonna fuck up your voice.”

“So what?” Love asks.

“We don’t have a vocalist, then.” Hansol continues, pushing her off his lap to put his bass back inside its case, rubbing his sweaty palms against his black pants. “And we don’t have anyone to back you up. My singing is not as good. Andy’s singing is shit and Wonwoo sounds mysterious when he sings, but put him on the front of the stage and he’s going to black out.”

At the mention of her boyfriend, she can’t help but feel a smile creep up her face. Wonwoo was supposed to only be her little cousin’s drum teacher, a little part-time job he had to keep the dream alive, but one of those times her aunt couldn’t make it, she was asked to drive the little boy to class. There, Wonwoo captured her attention, and just before she left with regrets, she had slipped a paper with her number onto his palm.

And he had called.

And now, seven months later, they’re there. Coexisting in the same world, uniting their loose threads, and living out of it.

Well, he’s not there.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” She asks, resting her hands inside the pockets of her jeans, and a little grin appears on Hansol’s face at the mention of his name.

“He’s—”

Hansol’s deep and tranquil voice cuts short when an interruption comes through in the shape of the shortest of the band, purple hair done a mess and yet, matching with the hickeys trailing up his neck, doing his best to conceal it with the thick choker around his neck. Andy, the band’s guitarist, whose innocent features bring him just about any lover to his side, thinking he understands them, listens to them…but he’s a player.

And a damn good one, too. “Twenty bucks and I’ll tell you where he is.”

“Twenty bucks and you shut up.” Her tongue is witty enough to reply, and the sound of familiar laughter stirs her heart alive. When her hands spread on top of Andy’s shoulders, pushing him to the side to look for Wonwoo, she sees him nearing them, perhaps accompanying Andy in the process, black hair falling upon his forehead in sweaty strands, framing his elongated face, rounded ears, enigmatic eyes and tender, thin lips.

He gets closer, enough to wrap an arm around her and make her feel the coldness of the chains on his leather jacket, as dark as the rest of his outfit, but she knows the red shirt underneath is the tank top she bought him not too long ago. “Don’t give him your money. He’s a scam.”

“Girls don’t say that.” Andy shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and gently rubbing the hickeys on his neck.

“I doubt they get to tell you anything at all.” She answers, twirling on Wonwoo’s arms until he’s hugging her completely, his taut chest breathing in and out, meeting hers in the middle. “There’s only so much you can know about someone while having sex.”

“Listen—”

Love stands up from her spot to wrap her arm entirely around Andy’s shoulder, smiling wickedly at the people in front of her. “Instead of arguing with our two lovebirds and the reason why our love songs are good, why don’t we look for a blunt?”

“Be careful out there.” Wonwoo conquers, lifting one of his eyebrows as if to question Love’s actions. The woman simply chuckles, already dragging Andy away for her.

“The only difference between a cigarette and a blunt is social norms, Wonwoo.” Love complies, clearly talking about the smell of cigarettes that breathes out in the aftertaste of the cologne and mint in him. He picked it up not too long ago, and hasn’t been able to get away from nicotine since then.

Hansol, once again too lost in his own world, doesn’t seem to notice—or mind—when her lips meet his in one of those brief dances of excitement, a smile barely able to conceal itself on her face when she looks into his glistening eyes. “How was the gig?”

“Tiring.” He answers, tugging at the collar of his leather jacket. “Love insists we have to look edgy, but this make me sweat buckets.”

“It makes you look hot.”

A tinge of pink creeps up his ears, smiling widely when he moves her from side to side. “What’s with all the love today? You’re awfully happy.”

How not to be so when she’s with him? Awakening to the sound of his fingers pattering against the counter of his kitchen, mumbling out the lyrics of the songs he is always writing. Wonwoo is not only a dreamer but a dream, a sight to look at and a potion inside her stomach. If she could, she’d throw up hearts at the mere mention of him, but the impossibility only further explains her infatuation for him. Love, love is this.

“Well…” She trails her voice, just at the same time that her hands take place by his abdomen, toying with the fabric there. “Did you listen to the podcast today? First episode early in the morning. Not a lot of people tuned in, but twenty is more than nothing, right?”

His black hair covers the darkness that looms over his eyes, lips faltering that smile to instead part delicately. Even his body moves away at the mention of the podcast, little droplets of sweat intensifying on his neck. “T-The podcast was today?”

A sigh leaves her before she could stop it. Forgetfulness is not his thing, but it seems to be today. “Yeah. I told you today before you went out to practice.”

“Shit, sorry.” Wonwoo lets his hand hover on her cheek, lips leaning forward to join hers, but she can’t even purse her own to meet him, leaving him with her blank expression instead. “I went to the gym after practice, and then I was too busy to actually listen—”

“You decided to go to the gym instead of listening to the podcast I have been working so hard on?” Nights spent listening to her favorite albums, preparing topics and asking Minghao to help her achieve the best quality in sound. Publicity done just about everywhere, asking her close friends and family to listen. Twenty people had listened, and none of them was Wonwoo. Her boyfriend.

“It was a mistake.” He whispers, like the boyfriend he is, not forgetting to pour all his emotions out in the pout of his lips. Giving her another kiss, she wants to stay angry, let the pits of hell stay inside her, but his eyes glimmer as if he means it when he promises: “Maybe, next time I will listen, okay?”

Maybe. A relationship should not be gray; it’s either black or white, it’s yes or no, never an in-between. Never a maybe.

But she takes it, because Wonwoo is just the type to say things without thinking. His ‘maybe’ may mean ‘certainly’.

His ‘maybe’ may mean ‘I’m sorry’.

Or it just is meaningless. Not ‘maybe’ at all.

###

Pen to paper. Cigarettes to lips. A mess done person, or a person done a mess.

The press has met the man that she has loved for over eleven months, and yet, she feels like each article that gets out about Love’s Midnight just makes her know the people in the band a lot less. This thought crosses her as her feet come in contact with empty bottles of soda, thrown across the floor of the hotel room they rented for their first real gig. Wonwoo’s cigarettes have been his lover for the night, as well as his lyricism notebook, but Andy seems to be having other ideas in the cheap room next door. It may be just some hooker, but something in her gut tells her that the lack of Love on the afterparty gives her an indicator of who it may be…

The reaction is long gone when she closes the door behind her, sporting her best dress—the one Wonwoo always talked about, the one that had his eyes lingering on her legs a lot longer than necessary, unable to keep his hands off her waist whenever she used it. The attention from him was well received, and yet, it was lacking tonight. The lonesome yellow of the lightbulb in front of them flickers, her heels click against the tiles on the floor, and he doesn’t even pull away from his notebook, humming out the notes to the song he is writing. At least, he’s not the one with the hooker.

But, what kind of thought is that?

It’s not the kind of idea she’d normally have about Wonwoo. Her Wonwoo, all rock songs but soft heartened words. Yet, with each passing month of his newfound stardom, she sees him less. Feels him less. Talks to him in ways that feels as though he is a stranger, and not the kind that wants to meet her. Definitely not the interested strangers they were in the past, the reason as to why they fell in love.

The lighter in between his fingers basks the cream walls in a faint light, the first smoke of the cigarettes leaving his lips and then, he keeps his hand up, a little bit twisted to keep the ashes away from his notebook. She moves closer, the back of her thighs meeting the edge of the bed when she calls out his name. Nothing. Wonwoo feels like nothing these days.

There, in a pretty dress, and yet not of his liking, pushing the pink fabric to fit more of her body, like a woman in her honeymoon. Insecurity latches to each portion of her uncovered skin, clearing her throat to catch his attention as she rests her extended palm on his back.

The toned muscles seem to welcome her touch, but his face remains stoic, hair standing out in various spots, dark eyes packing worries inside his heart. “Wonwoo?”

“Baby, I’m busy.” Annoyance exists in his tone, though it’s almost imperceptible. These days, all his feelings seem to be this way—happiness is the same as sadness, as annoyance and worry. Wonwoo is just a blank canvas, and she can’t seem to paint him. “Can’t seem to finish writing this song.”

“Maybe, it’s just not a good song.” The words don’t come out in the way that normally would. He has been talking about this song for three days, maybe it’s about time he drops it. Maybe, it’s time for them to drop this strange silent treatment between them—

“What?” Finally, he looks over his shoulder, his lips barely wrapping around the cigarette before each blow of smoke is thrown her way with his words. “What do you mean the song is not good? You haven’t even heard it.”

“If you can’t write it, it’s because you’re not inspired for it.”

His eyebrows raise up at that, taking his notebook in between his finger and stomping his cigarette against the bedside table, perhaps leaving it for later. He turns on his back, on the verge of becoming silent again, when he stops tapping his pen against the notebook. “What do you know about music anyways? It’s not that easy to write a song.”

A laugh escapes her nose, because she’s not half happy at the man in front of her. “The podcast I have, the one you don’t listen to, talks about music and I have a minor in something music-related. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I listen to your podcast.” Wonwoo defends, letting the notebook rest on his taut abdomen as he lifts his hands to rub at his eyes. “I just don’t have enough time to listen to you talk for more than an hour—”

Her legs can’t seem to stay still then, standing up from her spot on the bed and making sure to pull her dress as far as possible. Somehow, being looked at by Wonwoo at this moment feels absolutely horrendous. Earlier this afternoon, she would’ve loved to have his hands all over her, his lips mouthing the things he loves the most about her. Right now, he’s impossible. “Isn’t that what a boyfriend should do? Listen to his motherfucking girlfriend?”

“I listen to you, oh my God!” He throws his head back, covering his face with his hands before sighing. “Babe, you’re being irrational. You come in here and tell me my song sucks, and now you’re making this about our relationship?”

“Well, you were the one that told me I didn’t know anything about music.”

Wonwoo stops for a moment, uncovering his face to look at her with what seems to be despair. “Then, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Her heels click harshly with each step she takes towards him. “You can’t just say sorry like you’re bored. Saying sorry has to be meaningful.”

“That’s just how my voice sounds.” But she knows that’s not the case. Deep, tranquil, that’s his voice, but that doesn’t mean it’s not meaningful. That doesn’t mean he can talk to her in a way that feels as though he has never loved her.

“No, that’s not how your voice sounds—”

“Babe—”

“Wonwoo.” She closes her eyes tightly, kneeling to take the empty bottles of soda in between her hands. “Who are you and what did you do to the man I fell in love with?” The question is rhetorical and not meant to be answered as she continues: “You’re messy and uninterested, this is not—”

“Maybe, if you let me speak, I’d be able to tell you what’s wrong with me.”

“Oh, so there’s really something wrong?” Far too entranced in her anger, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Is it me? Am I the wrong thing in your life?”

“When you get like this, maybe.” Wonwoo conquers, standing up and taking the resting empty bottles of soda before sighing. “Hey—”

“No. Repeat that.”

“Give me a break.”

She takes him by his arms, then, his tank top moving with the motion as she makes him turn towards her. Tired eyes to tired soul. One for him. One for her. “You really want me to give you a break? Because I could totally leave you if that means you being happy.”

Wonwoo has always been a selectively silent man. His lips don’t part unless necessary. He loves being a listener, not a talker. She wishes he would’ve stayed silent that night, but he didn’t, instead frowning deeply as he pushed his body away from her. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t listen to me. So, maybe, it’s better if we give each other a break, don’t you think?”

She has to scoff, pulling her dress further down her thighs as it had ridden up, yet not once breaking eye contact with him. “Why call it a break? Why don’t we just break up and that’s it? Call it fucking quits so you can go fuck some other chick that actually listens to you, baby boy?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He answers, shoulders rising and falling as he gets closer to her. “Don’t talk to me at all if you’re going to be like that.”

“Well, tough luck. That’s just how I am.” Her voice drops a few octaves, pushing at his chest to get him away from her. His eyes seem to change, then, ever so present in his feelings, burning through him when he calls his name and tries to reach for her, but she is halfway through the room when his skin barely grazes her.

“Baby—”

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you talk to me. Don’t look for me. Don’t…” Her voice breaks then, breathing out slowly when her hand comes in contact with the handle of the door. “Don’t, Wonwoo. Just don’t.”

“Hey, sorry, you know I love y—”

“Don’t.” She whispers, loud enough for him to hear when she opens the door. Why is that, even when the air in the corridor feels fresher than the one basked in cigarettes in this room, she feels more suffocated when she leaves?

Right, because she never listened to him.

And he never got to talk honestly to her.

###

“Listen, you’re a podcast host. I think you should really leave the coffee aside and go for tea and honey.”

One of the biggest wonders in this world is how in hell Minghao’s blonde strands of hair seem to be soft even when he dyes it continuously. The other wonder is how such a sweet voice like his seems to have the pointiest of remarks just at the tip of his tongue. Perhaps, that’s why Minghao is the tech of her podcast, and not a host to be exact. He’d be far too honest about the newest releases in music. What she’d call ‘something different yet not tasteful’, he’d call it ‘absolute garbage taken out of the trash, eaten by a dog, and then thrown up onto the floor’.

But hey, that’s just Xu Minghao.

Twirling on his chair, he writes something down on their shared document for this week’s podcast, two years on the run and yet, doing better than ever. Thousands of listeners check up each week, either on YouTube or on Spotify, to tune in and talk about the newest music dropped into the world. Mostly rock, but she doesn’t forget some other genres if they catch her attention enough.

He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back on his seat and parting his jean cladded legs, fixing the plain yet expensive t-shirt resting on his slender body before she responds. “Get on with your life, Hao. If I don’t drink coffee, I could totally die.”

“Stubborn as ever, I see.” Minghao tuts, lifting his cat-like eyes from the screen just as he clears his throat. “Your kidneys are the ones dying.”

“As long as it’s not my vocal cords, we’re fine.”

“You’re not going to die because of lack of caffeine. That’s just stupid.” Yet, his eyes keep concentrating on the screen, organizing both good and bad albums to talk about, maybe a sprinkle of singles here and there as not to make the podcast too long. However, just as the straw of her iced coffee meets her lips, Minghao’s face stands out in their office setup, widening his eyes at what he sees on the screen. “You’re going to die because of this, though.”

Exaggerations are not his thing. That’s why he is so poised even when the audio cuts off, or when her voice breaks. Nothing impresses him, nothing leaves an imprint on him, so her body moves to his side before he could completely finish his sentence. “Why? Why? Why? Why would I die?”

Minghao doesn’t let her look at the screen of his laptop, instead reading out the title of the article he read online for her. “Love’s Midnight has released a new album after their one-year hiatus. The drummer, Jeon Wonwoo, surprises with his songwriting skills in their new project: Valentine. The release date is next week and…” Minghao turns to her then, eyebrows lifted as he inspects her features. “Apparently, it’s an ode to a past lover.”

It’s been two years since she opted to never hear those names again. Love’s Midnight. Jeon Wonwoo. Even Eunkyung, Hansol and Andy had been completely eradicated from her thoughts.

Valentine, perhaps because they had gotten together on February, but what are the odds of Wonwoo actually writing a song about her? An album, at that? He had never reached out, not by hand, not by text, not by a single call. Wonwoo had dissipated after a few missed calls, as if he had given up, and it was for a cause.

“Well, we’re not talking about their album next week.”

Minghao shakes his head harshly enough for a few strands of his hair to jump at the motion. “We have to. Love’s Midnight has been huge for the past two years,” The lack of her in their lives must have been the reason of their success. All friends of hers, now nothing in comparison. “And with the departure of Andy and the entrance of lady-killer Hoshi into the team, we better have all the fangirls tuning in for our podcast.”

Andy. The innocent features, short height, the banter in between them. She had not even gotten to know he had left. “Why did Andy leave?”

“Ooh, messy stuff.” Minghao conquers, not one for gossip, but one for knowing it all. “Love and Andy were dating since the start, right?” Now, that’s not the story she knows—Andy and Love were pals for lust, but they were never really a serious thing. “They broke up. Andy departed because of how difficult it was to be around her, and that was it for them. That’s why the hiatus happened, but now Hoshi joined them.”

“Who’s that Hoshi dude?”

The tech turns to his laptop, writing down the name quickly on the search before an image popped up in front of them. Pierced ears, rounded cheeks and sharp eyes, all highlighted by makeup on his cheeks to make him glisten like the sun, the thick eyeliner matching his leather jacket and his pushed back hair full of gel. He seems to be blonde in that picture, but in the one next to it, his hair is darker, playing guitar on stage with Love, who’s singing in the microphone. Skinnier than ever, with her eyes hollowed out and yet, the smile never leaves her face.

“I see,” She starts, pushing her body away when she sees a glimpse of Wonwoo with his hands up in the air in the back, ready to smack his drums again. “We’re not talking about them, though. I don’t care about anything Jeon Wonwoo can write.”

But her heart picks up just at the mere sight of him. Would he be alright? His health, fine? His lungs still working perfectly or is he still in the way to addiction to nicotine? Does the loneliness still haunt him at times in the middle of the night, or has he found someone else already?

“Don’t be like that,” Minghao states, rolling his eyes at her. “It’s just an album, and you haven’t listened to their music in a while. It was two years ago, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“What if it is about me?”

The question haunts her, makes her feel insecure in a way that she hasn’t felt in a while. Maybe, she fears to know what he really wanted to say—the regrets or the acceptance, the things he felt. If it made him happier or sadder. If he, to this day, hasn’t been able to love someone equally as much as her, because she knows she can’t. No man can compare to the fluttering feeling that came with him. “It’s just a few songs. I think not all of them are about you. Besides, it can be any past lover…and I’m sure you weren’t Wonwoo’s first girlfriend.”

Not his first love, and definitely not his last. A sigh leaves her lips as she crosses her arms over her chest. If she spoke about his album, maybe she’d prove to herself that he was wrong. Music exists in her blood, she acknowledges it as part of her, and he can’t tell her that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about anymore.

“I’ll give it a listen once it drops out.”

With a dizzy smile on his features, Minghao claps his hands in excitement. “Well, look who made you agree to something for the first time in his life.” Sending his two thumbs his way, he chuckles. “This guy.”

###

Being the center of attention has never been of his liking. It’s not the thing Jeon Wonwoo is known for, but it’s the thing their publicist wants him to do.

Flashing lights end up all over him, makeup-less and yet, not caring that he is showing every imperfection on his skin. He cares about what he has to say, though, to take out the buried memories of a past love just for the sake of an album, or for healing. The documentary they’re doing about Love’s Midnight, however, is another ordeal he can’t seem to understand. Not quite feeling connected to the camera in front of him, the white background, the staff that gather as if they want to listen to him. They don’t.

Hansol is somewhere by the corner, getting his makeup taken off for his own interview—people want it to be realistic, or so they say. Somewhere around the room, Love is singing at the top of her lungs—not reaching those notes that had once been the point of her knowledge, but still sounding like an angel sent from heaven. Hoshi is the only one nearby, seated with his legs crossed, looking at Wonwoo in understanding. Not equally as introverted, but somehow capturing the essence of dread in Wonwoo’s soul.

He shrinks into himself, each curvature of his muscles hidden by his posture, though the tank top on him does nothing to conceal what he knows will get him compliments, but never too meaningful. He sends a smile to one of the staff members that passes by him, fixing the lights one last time and asking him to take off his glasses. He does, never the type to say no.

“So, Wonwoo…” The cameraman says from his spot, learning his questions like the palm of his hand, and no amount of preparation and knowledge could’ve prepared him for the question thrown his way. His mind knew it was going to happen, but much like a teenage student in high school, he didn’t prepare. “What’s this album about?”

Her.

It’s not a ‘what’, it’s a ‘who’.

It’s his February 21st, his little memory in a pink dress, his ode to the drums, the reason why he sometimes touches the piano in hopes of composing a song. The only smile he can’t seem to remember perfectly, from the shade of her lipstick to the way her lips felt against his. The little smile she gave him after their first kiss, the way she called out his name, the only ode he has been able to give to the world…his memories of her.

“It’s about love, heartbreak, healing. All of the like.” He says, clearing his throat soon after, only to watch the cameraman move his hands, instructing him to say more. His eyes close for a second, letting out a breath that mingles with an uncomfortable laugh. “It’s about someone I loved dearly. Someone I don’t want to forget.”

“What did you love about them?”

“Pardon?”

“What did you love about them?” The cameraman asks, and Wonwoo has to lean back on his seat to capture the gasp that was about to leave his lips. He was never one to say it much—those three words that would have otherwise made her feel better. She’s talkative, he’s not.

What did he love about her?

Was it the love that she made him feel? Was it the movement of her hips, the shape of her lips, the way she spoke about her issues as if the world was falling down on her? Was it her enthusiasm, her happiness—?

“That everything about her made me want to be a better person.” His head nods once, twice, trying to further convince himself that it’s okay that he doesn’t have her. She’ll always exist in his music, in his rhymes, in his handwriting as he gives another poem to her—another melody to cherish her. “She was the only woman I ever imagined myself loving for a long time.”

Yet, he can’t clean up the mess they made. Can’t return to the avenue they left abandoned because it had taken too long to get to their goal. With one last breath, he hears another question:

“Care to explain some songs to us?”

But the words never come to him. They didn’t back then, they don’t now.

###

Okay, an album. She has listened to thousands of those, maybe even millions. It shouldn’t be an issue for her to sit down in front of her computer, plug in her earphones, and just let the melody of Love’s Midnight songs fill her eardrums with absolute bullshit. Cheesy love bullshit that never happens.

But this is not yet another album.

This is an album about her.

Minghao could be right, though. What are the odds of Wonwoo actually remembering her, much more in the form of lyricism? This thought is what has her pushing her earphones inside the laptop, sighing deeply as she presses play. The introduction shouldn’t be that difficult to listen to, and the artwork is simplistic, something of the like of a sunset merging into artwork in its abstract form. It feels romantic, but it isn’t about her.

The first song changes it all.

The first track of nine has Love’s strong vocals, reaching her high notes like they are part of her voice, slow and steady with that edge of slow rock, a plea for a lover to trust them even when they don’t seem to be showcasing their truest intention. A fool, the song speaks about over and over again, blaming themselves for not being able to point out their realest feelings to their lover.

The bass is heavy on the second track, and Hansol—Vernon, in this case—hasn’t lost a single ounce of his talent to fame. Metaphors speak about Wonwoo’s growing love for literature, grieving the end of a relationship and cladding it in pride. A man who can’t seem to understand the finalization of his relationship, covering it with more wrongdoings, and yet, begging for another yesterday, another chance. Something that has her tightening her hand against her heart, listening to Love’s voice dragging feelings through the pits of hell.

The third track is the one she likes the least, and it’s the one that seems to be the most about her. Talking about smiles, laughter, reminiscent of times much happier and yet, mixing a sound that she would’ve never imagined from Wonwoo’s band. It feels like she is walking on the streets of Madrid, waiting for a lover, letting the Spanish guitar pull her in only to dizzy her. Far too happy. Far too difficult to understand with their bitter ending.

The fourth track feels like him, enough for her fingers to hover over the space bar to pause it a few times. Slow, steady, and the pain of the break-up is felt through every single note. Loneliness haunting, drowning and drowning him into this pit of nonexistence. Love’s voice seems to fit every feeling, and she wonders if it’s just her amazing way of portraying sentiments, or it’s common for people to go through so much pain.

Fifth track, and the echo of it makes her feel even lonelier in her room, leaning back on her gray bed and fluffy pillows to close her eyes lightly. Drunken feelings, it speaks about, a man in the middle of a party with the smell of smoke clinging to him, speaking his feelings into the microphone as if they come directly from his heart, remembering how his life seemed to be easier, much easier when it was simpler. The minimalistic whisper coming from Love’s voice indicating: “I’m good, what about you?” in such a broken tone has her sending a weak smile to the air.

She’s not half as good as he is.

Insecurities seep through the sixth track, and her back cracks by the time she moves again, wanting to hear this from up close. This past lover comes haunt him in his dreams, and he only wonders if they’re happy. The sixth track is far more commercial than the rest, reason as to why it doesn’t surprise her it’s the one, they dropped with a music video she has yet to see. The allegories indicate that this lover, maybe, has found someone else, and the thought alone makes them sleepless. Insomniac. Saddened.

Huh, wouldn’t even surprise her if Wonwoo was the one that found someone else. Each of her dates have ended in her going home without a single kiss, not wanting to have anyone but him.

The seventh track shows Wonwoo’s talent by the drums perfectly, upbeat and coming directly from the 80’s, Love doing her best to portray the meeting of two lovers and the immediate chemistry between the two. A pink dress is mentioned, and the only thing she can do is purse her lips together.

Fuck Xu Minghao.

Fuck him for making her listen to this motherfucking album.

Fuck that pink dress that she keeps in her closet.

The piano on the eighth track takes her breath away, far more heartfelt than anything they have ever done—far more mature than anything she would have imagined from Wonwoo’s little band. The fear of losing someone, one last goodbye, the speech through a break-up. It speaks about turning and twisting, about running out of things to say and saying the worst ones. Tears gather by her vision when she hears that female voice speaking all the pain, she has gathered in her heart for only four minutes. It feels like a lifetime.

Getting Wonwoo to sing for her was difficult. It’d have to come after long conversations, when he was really tired, or when she couldn’t sleep. His voice in the last track was unexpected, so much that she wouldn’t even be able to recognize his voice if only she had not listened to it for almost a year of her life, every single day. His deep tone breathes out words of wanting someone back, but not knowing if he should trust his heart or his brain. Starting slow and then building up to a pop beat, it’s a nice song to snap fingers to, yet, she can’t bring herself to do anything but stare at the screen.

He’d still try for her, he says. In some point of his life, or when he wrote this song, he wanted her back.

He’ll always want her back with him.

And it’s with that thought that she closes her laptop, breathing out harshly at the same time that she texts Minghao.

To: Hao.

I hate you for making me listen to this album.

Track number three sucks ass.

Yet, her fingers hover over the search bar, letting the line tickle the write surface with its glow before she is writing down his name. Jeon Wonwoo, but with an addition—girlfriend, she wants to know who this could be about if it’s not about her—

The first pictures that pop out break her heart in a million pieces only to deliver it across the world as a souvenir. Wonwoo is getting out of a party with some model by his side, long dark hair cascading down her back, a little black dress cladding her elongated body, shiny legs in display as a shy smile creeps up her red lips.

Want you back my ass.

Maybe, it’s this model he is missing.

###

Blue lights bathe his skin in its sinful glow, seated by the entrance of a bar. Their usual spot packs people as if they’re the box of cigarettes on his coat’s pocket, one long stick of nicotine dangling from his lips only to be lit up by someone else. Some of the people gathering around him, perhaps, or the femme voice that has been asking him personal questions for the past hour. Short answers have escaped him, but seeing how risqué they are getting and how uncomfortable he is, he can’t bring himself to care.

Tonight, he’s supposed to celebrate the release of Valentine, his newest album. The happiest night of his life, it must be, but it’s far from that. Droplets of champagne pour from the ceiling, cheers being heard as yet another electronic song plays in the background. Eunkyung is lost in God-knows-where, Hansol has embarked in a conversation about the universe with a group of college students, and Soonyoung is dancing as if he doesn’t have a care in this world. He probably doesn’t, and that’s the dream.

It feels weird. Earning money and success from his sentiments should make him feel better—narcissistic in a way that fuels his ego, but only makes him feel as though the headlines are eating him alive. With each person that nears him, he feels more faux. A product, nothing more, nothing less, enough to be dismissed when he stands up from his spot, blowing out smoke into the condensed air. Some bump his side, staining the expensive leather of his coat, but the conceptualization passes him by quickly. At least, he gets to feel something.

Footsteps are heard beside him by the time he opens the door to the bar. If he’s lucky, he may get to go to his apartment, smoke another cigarette, and head to bed quickly. However, just when the black, sleek door slides from his fingertips to close it down, the flashes of cameras attack his features. Each regret is highlighted by yet another paparazzi throwing themselves at him as they ask the same old questions. The only thing that people seem to wonder about him.

“Who was Valentine about? Please, tell us the details!” One of them screams directly to his face, the microphone grazing his bottom lip and making him stumble back. He tries to smile, but the beam falls down by his fakeness.

“Wonwoo, over here!” One of the shortest interviewers says, waving his hand in the air to capture his attention. “Was it about Eunji?”

Right, Eunji. His publicist would love if he simply said it was about her.

The woman comes in the shape of a goddess, and the tremor of her voice brought a distraction for one night. A distraction, compliments that are void, words that did not have to have meaning, and the frustration of not being able to move on. Eunji said she understood—she, too, had been going through some kind of heartbreak and the relief was needed, but each text that came after said events went directly through his head and towards the deleted pile. One night was enough.

Blowing the air of his cigarette in the air, his mind desires to give the paparazzi what they want. Be the good boy he has always been in a band of people who have stood out for their unique qualities, but tonight, when it’s about her and the success tastes like blood and iron on his tongue, he doesn’t want to be who he used to be.

Jeon Wonwoo, did everything to be one of the most well-known drummers of the year, and ended up alone in the process.

“It’s just for someone, let me be.” He whispers, pushing through the seas of people with his bodyguard trailing right behind him. One good thing comes from fame, but just as he is getting away from the bar, the clicking of cameras still following along with the words from the paparazzi, he hears a lively voice cut through the air with worry.

“Wonwoo, what do you think you’re doing? That’s bad publicity.” Soonyoung speaks quickly, brushing his blonde hair away from his face to showcase his reddened face. The honesty must come from being a bit tipsy.

“Sorry.” It’s the only thing he can bring himself to say, because he knows it’s bad publicity, but isn’t it bad enough that people have been speculating about the muse behind his album? And none of the suppositions are right.

“Stop smoking and look at me for once.” Soonyoung indicates, and Wonwoo parts the cigarette from his lips for a second, quirking one of his eyebrows as they walk together. “What is going on with you?”

“I’m about to become a million seller by exploiting my past relationship and I’ve been getting more attention than usual in the process.” The night seems to swallow each and every single one of his worries, leaving him with a sigh. “I think I’ve just had enough.”

“That’s what happens, dude!” Soonyoung conquers, as if trying to make him feel better. His arm wraps around his shoulder, moving him from side to side. “You’ve done something great for our band, and you’ve been able to let go of all those pent feelings.”

Ha. That’s something he hasn’t done at all. How stupid does he have to be to be in love with her when it all ended so wrongly? Besides, it’s not like she would’ve waited for him—he was a dick, and she has all the reasons to find someone much better. The thought has him putting the cigarette up to his lips again.

“I suppose.” He shrugs, watching a limousine pull up not too far away from them. Since when did he forget about the existence of taxis and started to be too rich for his own good?

“The publicists are going to be so mad at you.”

Wonwoo stops at that, looking ahead and back, ahead and back, not knowing if he should move forward and drag himself to the past. Was it easier when no one cared? Is it easier now that he has all he ever wanted?

Was this all he ever wanted at all?

“Soonyoung…” He says those words into the air, playing a smile into his features as if he feels it. He doesn’t. “Can’t we just get in the car and not talk about this for a second? Let’s talk about any other band but Love’s Midnight.”

Something in the blonde man switches, opening the door to the limousine as he nods with uncertainty. He doesn’t like being looked at like that—as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life…

Because it’s damn right.

But hey, at least he’s almost a million copies seller, right?

###

“Huh, I listened to an album this week,” Her voice drags with the continuation of her sentence, eyes trailing up until she meets Minghao’s, far too concentrated on the sound of her microphone, on stopping the echoes and making sure that those who tune in live do get to hear her properly. She has to muffle a laugh. Nervousness makes her sound stupid. “Well, duh, of course, I always talk about music and listen to albums…but I listened to a weekly favorite just last week.”

Each day has been worse than the last. The headache doesn’t leave her, finding herself humming the tunes to Love’s Midnight songs—that one song, the last track, keeps playing in her head as if she had been the one who composed it. Whatever. It happens. I’m sure most of the women in music who had songs written about them felt the same way. Maybe, Courtney Love felt like this. Could’ve been worse, at least Wonwoo didn’t pull a Lennon and wrote a song along the lines of “Dear Yoko”.

She fixes the beanie on her head, staring forward at the white doors of her office, the coldness seeping through her sweater, a shiver going down her spine. “It’s Love’s Midnight latest album, Valentine. You guys were recommending it a lot this week, wanted me to talk about it and all…” Her fingers start to play with the straw of her drink, trying her hardest not to take too many pauses. The podcast is live for some, after all. “And it’s here. I’ll talk about it.”

With the last ounce of sanity left inside her body, she takes a long sip of her drink, smacks her lips and starts pouring out her thoughts into professionalism.

“Track number three sucks. Sorry to anyone who is a fan, but track number three is the corniest, stupidest thing I’ve ever heard from them. No hate, just truth.” She lifts her hands in the air, watching Minghao lift his gaze to mouth something to her. Don’t, he says, and she remembers that was the last word she told Wonwoo. Fuck. “In all honesty, though, I liked the conceptualization of the album. I think that…uh…they could’ve added some spice here and there. Everything felt like a pile of heartbreak—”

The screen by her side lights up, showing up the live chat and the viewers speaking about the album.

Jeon Wonwoo wrote it for a past lover. He must be heartbroken.

Track number three is the best, though.

Finally, you’re talking about Love’s Midnight. Favorite band.

“But yeah, Love did amazingly with her vocals, contrary to what one would believe. She went to high highs and low lows, exquisite in her vibratos, that raspy tone of hers still captures everyone who listens.” Looking up at the ceiling, she swallows thickly. So much to say about nine tracks about her, and still the words don’t come out. “H—Vernon, he’s very good with the bass. You know, maybe our tech Minghao will agree with me on this, but Vernon is the one who makes the songs feel profitable, like it can be heard in a club, can be heard in the car, both adults and teens can like his sound. Definitely one of the pillars of the band, I think.”

Minghao nods his head from the booth, and she feels a little bit of warmth in the room. She’s not alone—if she fucks up, she’s not alone.

“Hoshi. Didn’t even know Hoshi was in the band until our tech told me, haven’t been really up to date with Love’s Midnight…” Because watching him play would only bring back the memories of the first time they met, the feeling of his skin tattered in tattoos under the weight of her hands, the tremble of his voice, the tender way he held her. Like she meant something. Like her words meant something. Until they didn’t. “God, his solos? He’s—I think in this era, in this generation of musicians, it’s impossible to stand out as a guitarist because there’s hundreds, thousands, millions of good guitarists. Haven’t seen Hoshi live, but I’m looking forward for the acoustic sets with his talent. Just from listening to him, I feel like he has real talent.”

Her eyes divert towards the screen, shaking a bit when she reads a question on her opinion about Wonwoo’s songwriting skills. There, she can imagine him sprawled on his bed, his notebook covering most of his face as he looks at her from the corner of his eye, sending a shy smile her way before venturing into a new world, writing her in it as if he cared.

Did he ever care?

“Ah…what I think about Jeon Wonwoo’s songwriting skills?” Saying his name out loud has her scrunching up her features. If she closes her eyes, he’s there, so she keeps them wide open. His voice calls her out—baby, baby, I didn’t forget you. “I think they could be better.”

It’s at this time that Minghao scoffs from his spot, shaking his head as he places his hands behind it. Liar, his pretty lips mouth at her.

“Wonwoo, whoever this album is about,” Me, she thinks, it’s about me and my stupid dumb smile when around him. My insecurities. My world. “I don’t know, it feels fake. Maybe, it’s just me…” Her voice trails for a second, shaking her thoughts out before sighing. “They’re good, they’re just not…you know, they’re not ‘album of the year’ worthy. He seems to be stuck in the same topic and I can’t judge his range if he’s only written about…one thing…you know, like—” Shit, she’s really digging her own grave right here. What is she supposed to say? That she liked it? “Like, yeah, we get it, you’re heartbroken…but, I mean, judging from what he has written in the album…he fucked up, too, you know?”

Maybe, she should just read some comments. Reassure herself that she’s not sounding like the one who had an entire album written about her.

Emo boy energy, doesn’t surprise me. Very Jeon Wonwoo-esque. One of them writes.

The drums were sick, though. Say hi to me, host!

People say it’s about Song Eunji.

Song Eunji. Model. Wonwoo’s latest known lover. The pictures flash before her eyes as she thinks about it. Maybe, it’s really about Eunji and not about her…

Why does the thought make her sadder?

“So, yeah, I’d give it an eight point seven out of ten. Favorite track is track number nine. Hoshi is the backbone of this band to me now. That’s it.”

Regret clings to her like a leech. Song Eunji. Jeon Wonwoo. An album. Failed dates. A broken relationship. Why is love always extra difficult for her?

###

“Come on, babe, lighten up.”

With rosy cheeks, her friend, Jade, speaks those words like there is enough space in this party for her to feel free. There isn’t, quite clearly, but Jade is on the brink of her youth, ready to mess up her long hair, get on some tables and drunkenly sing to the world, albeit a bit messily. Her family, all consisting of enormous classic musicians, rooted from the most intricate and exclusive of schools, would shake their heads at the sight of Jade, already rid of her shirt and practically dragging her body towards her to wrap an arm around her shoulder and keep herself steady. The bottle of champagne Jade had been drinking from is brought up to her lips, and she has to take a sip if she doesn’t want Jade to start whining in a high tone, able to break through the bass-boosted music in this club.

It’s Jade’s birthday, and Minghao is nowhere to be seen. He probably left early—her fault for trying to play matchmaker between Jade and Minghao over a year ago, but her apologies had never been enough for the awkward blind date she had set up for the two of them. If there’s one thing Minghao can’t stand is lying, and much more if it’s about his romantic life.

To be quite honest, she thought it’d be a match. Stylishly rich guitarist of a local band, Jade, and stylishly average tech of her podcast, Minghao.

Maybe, she was wrong.

“Shit, Jade—” She’s already taking off her jacket from her shoulders to drape it across Jade’s chest, who simply looks down at the fabric with a scrunch of her nose. “You’re on your bra.”

Jade chuckles sweetly, because inherently, she’s dulcet. The kind of girl that wipes your tears after a break up, lends you some powder after you throw up in a bar’s bathroom, and the one that just wants everyone to have a good time. Everyone including her. “Babe, it’s Victoria’s Secret. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Everyone is going to see your nipples.”

“You know, it’s better for me to have two very healthy nipples than not have them at all. So, whoever wants to see, can see.” With that, her jacket is given once again to her, staring at Jade who brings up the bottle of champagne up to her lips, the pink liquid trailing down her cheeks and her chin. “Why are you here all alone?”

Because the music is shitty, Minghao is nowhere to be in sight, and Jade was playing a game of body shots not too long ago. College has been long dead for her since a while ago—and she doesn’t think she’d be confident enough to have someone drinking directly from her body.

Props to Jade, of course.

“Ah, maybe because I wanted to leave soon?” She asks, rubbing the back of her head to play with her messy ponytail. It had been sleek once, but being around this amount of people, dancing against one another, and trying to move through them while also avoiding anyone getting too close to her, was a difficult task that ended up getting her a bit riled up.

“Shut up!” Jade screeches, wrapping her arm around her once again and resting her cheek against hers. “Shut up, babe! You’re not leaving…anywhere…no.”

That’s the drag of her voice, the clear sign that Jade will be too drunk tomorrow, drunk enough for her not to remember if she leaves her alone here—

But shit, she can’t leave Jade alone. She’s shirtless, meaning that her Versace shirt must be somewhere on the floor, or covered in vomit, and she’s drunk. God knows what could happen if she leaves her alone.

“I’m not leaving you, don’t worry.”

“Yay!”

“But I should clean you up, you’re all sticky from the alcohol, Jade.” She replies, already making her way through the masses of people to find the bathroom. It must be by one of the corners, but she’s not too sure in this club. “Why did you drink so much?”

“Because—”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Just because.”

When the bathroom’s door is only a few meters away, she sees him. The song that is playing in the background is too robotic for anyone’s taste, but the one that plays inside her head is the one she mumbled to him before they fell asleep once.

‘Love of my Life’ by Queen.

Because if there’s someone that she loved in this world, in this hellish world that they dare call real life, it’s Jeon Wonwoo.

Closed eyes, head tilted back enough for his Adam’s apple to bob when he takes another drag of his cigarette. Nicotine is his lover for the night, while Love seems to tell him something angrily, fingers threading through her bleached blonde hair, dying at the number of products she puts on it, fried at this point. Wonwoo looks like himself, but he also doesn’t. She knows those black strands of hair, and how they curled against her fingertips when she tightened her hold on them after a kiss. Her mind recognizes those lips, now pink yet chapped, but when they wrap into an answer that blows the smoke into the air, he doesn’t seem like her Wonwoo. His eyes open, he stares at Love as he speaks to her, but Love’s eyes are already looking at someone else.

Eunkyung is calling out her name and there is nothing that seems to stop her as she stumbles away from her seat.

It’s at nights like these that she wishes to be forgotten. Get on a car, preferably old, drive until her feet hurt or until the gas runs low, wearing a thin jacket as she listens to classics. She’s tired of this new version of her life that she can’t seem to get used to. People that she thought she knew seem to be far too different now, with Eunkyung not existing when she reaches her and Jade. This is Love, the vocalist of Wonwoo’s band, with eyes so hollow she almost feels dead, and a mouth that wraps up in a smile that begs for a second chance.

Because everyone wants to go back.

But no one can.

“It’s been so long since I last saw you!” Love’s arms wrap around her to take her away from Jade, but her friend doesn’t seem to mind as she giggles mindlessly. Love’s hold is strong, calloused hands meeting her spine as she cages her face on her shoulder. There are tears there, an unspoken word, perhaps the need to feel like herself again. This is not Eunkyung. “Where have you been?”

“Somewhere. Always here.” She replies, pulling away and yet, capturing Wonwoo’s gaze in a single second. His eyes are already on her, twinkling heavenly in the pits of hell, and she has to give a step back to deny the gravity in between the two.

“Wonwoo’s over there. Let me call him over—!”

Little by little, she loved him.

And little by little, she shall erase the memory of him.

“No, sorry. Me and my friend are going back home.” She replies, wrapping her hand around Jade’s wrist, pulling farther and farther away from the people she had known the most. Yet, she doesn’t know them now. These people on world tours, selling millions of copies of their albums, making money out of their past…those are not people she had known.

And she doesn’t want to know them again.

Her feet bring her out of the club, and she swears she feels someone behind her, but with rushed steps the feeling becomes barely a ghost. Then, nonexistent. Finally, in the car she starts to think about it.

May the stars only know if it was him going after her.

###

With him, it always feels like one of both said something wrong. Or, rather, didn’t say anything at all.

What’s with her, this feeling of talking too much and saying too little? What’s the regret that overtakes her when her head leans back on her seat, listening to the song Minghao has put on per her request, played for their viewers and yet, not quite admitting to her most intricate of desires even on a verse? Her eyes stare at the ceiling, imagine him in front of his drums—imagine him calling her beautiful, holding her head, longing for her. All things she wants now, all equally as impossible.

A week since she last saw him, and she likes to believe Wonwoo went trailing after her. It’s the only thing that keeps her up at night—the questioning of reality and a dream. Maybe, he was never behind her—it could’ve been one of the partygoers, one of those drunken people that don’t know where to step, or it could’ve been him. Why does she feel her lungs relax against its own confines when she imagines him?

Because this is Wonwoo. The one who writes songs about her. The only man that she can’t seem to get over. Memories that come back all the time, because he’s in every single one of them. Wonwoo’s name spill from her tongue without knowing, his songs come to her in the shower without meaning to, and his scent is felt on every portion of her bed. He hasn’t been there in years, but it’s almost like he left only yesterday.

It was two years ago.

Two years, and she really should get over him.

Her eyes divert towards her computer screen, watching the messages pop in slowly before she sees a collection of digits. It’s a date—the date in which everything ended, continued by a text that has her mouth drying up.

I want to see you again.

It has to be a coincidence; it really has to be so. It could be that someone’s important date was two years ago, in that night in which everything ended. She sighs deeply, clearing her throat when the song finishes itself and she has to talk again.

“Well, now we have to talk about that album—”

Another message pops up, but it’s impossible. Wonwoo rarely listened to her podcast, and when he did, he never said anything.

Love’s Midnight album is about who you think it is about.

Please, let me see you again.

She wants to see him again, too. It’s that feeling that keeps her up at night—knowing he could be close, but never close enough.

“Ah, in case anyone comes across a bunch of messages in the chat about seeing me again. It’s just some ex.” She tries to chuckle, but her voice has long gone left for something duller, stranger, as if she can’t get used to talking when it’s about him. “Already seeing someone dude, sorry.”

Seeing who?!

Minghao lifts his gaze, his hat doing nothing to conceal the disappointment on his face. What can she do? Admit that she feels jealous whenever she hears those rumors about who the album is about? That she has looked at pictures of his possible lovers and yet, the feeling never quite settles well with her?

The last man she saw was a man of wealth—son of a record label owner, very much into music, yet not quite in a band or participating anywhere as a solo artist. Mingyu was a nice date; the kind that made her laugh, ate a lot with her, drank a good glass of burgundy colored wine with her…but he wasn’t a forever. Wasn’t even a kiss. Mingyu became a friend after, and then, she didn’t want to date again.

But it’s what she has to do. If Wonwoo can go date some Eunji, and possibly write one or two songs about her, she can date whoever…

Right?

Right?!

###

The documentary didn’t show exactly how Love’s Midnight came to be what they are today.

People love a good story. Movies are a profitable job because of that, and books keep on fueling fantasies for those who can’t live in a better world for the same reason. What happens is, if something is boring, people don’t care. There has to be sentimentalism; enough to move anyone to tears, or make them feel inspired. Everyone who has been legendary has gone through a story of pain, only to reach their best spot. There’s a downfall in between, but the point of union always brings the grand finale to life.

In reality, Love’s Midnight happened because of Hansol. Eunkyung, who now can’t seem to stand anyone calling her that name instead of Love, worked part-time in some bar downtown. The place was ratchet, with hidden call-people expecting someone to capture them for the night, some drunkards that got a little bit too loud, and the owner, who’d always thank Eunkyung’s presence, calling it Love’s Midnight whenever clients gathered around…because her drinks were that good.

Hansol said, as he happened to be sitting down in Wonwoo’s couch, that it sounded like a band’s name. Andy was there, too, partly rubbing the skin of his arm after getting his first tattoo, and also hardly listening—but it seemed to be fitting for him, to join their forces and make a group. Originally, Eunkyung was supposed to be a guitarist, but Wonwoo would not even dare step in front of masses of people to sing a goddamned song about love.

What did people who watched the documentary believe now? That it was because of Andy’s nickname to Eunkyung. Love, when they were lovers, and the midnights they spent together. It earns them more money, yes, but it’s also heavily exaggerated to have people asking for more. Andy and Love were one of the biggest couples years ago, after all, and people thirsted more and more for their little interactions, even if they were nonexistent at this point.

Luckily, Hoshi is now with them.

But people are now even more interested in the band, and the arenas for the concerts of their world tours have been selling like hot bread. The problem is that being in a van with his three bandmates gets more tiring with each and every day that they spend pretending to be people they are not. They have to be cool, edgy, attend parties when they are told to, drink alcohol like it’s water, talk like they think of themselves as the most mysterious in this world. He can’t even call Hansol his real fucking name without having one of their managers tug him by the arm and correct him to Vernon.

The news outlet displays itself on the television screen. Hoshi keeps strumming on his guitar, and Vernon doesn’t seem to mind as he lays sleepily on his bed, ready to knock off. Love is somewhere in the back with someone she met in the afterparty of the concert—some groupie that she can’t seem to get her hands off of. The worst part is that he can’t seem to continue writing this song for the next album, because a picture of him is displayed on the screen.

“Who do you think Valentine is about, Rose?” One of the hosts asks, moving her short hair away from her sturdy shoulders to look at her taller counterpart.

Rose plays with the strands of her bubblegum pink hair, smacking her lips together before she speaks up. “People say it’s about Eunji Song, but I think there’s a line of girls that say it’s about her.”

“Wonwoo’s totally a womanizer.” Another host says, fashionable in the way he dresses, one leg crossed over the other. “We have fourteen idols who have been linked with him, three models, one entrepreneur and all in the last two years. We don’t even know who could’ve slipped the public eye.”

Rose takes a sharp breath, her teeth clattering in a way that has Wonwoo closing his eyes tightly. Two models, and that was about it. Neither lasting more than a week. Neither meant to be more to him. Just two people that he happened to come across with, and helped him forget. Well, tried to, at least. “He has even more lovers than Vernon!”

“Vernon’s been with the same girl for a while. Maybe, he could learn a thing or two about a committed relationship.”

The first host chuckles at their words, shaking her head in the process. “Everyone’s into drummers. I think he just likes the attention.”

The lonesome tune of Hoshi’s old guitar stops playing in the background, and Vernon’s soft snores mix with the cars passing by. His fingers reach for the remote, turning off the TV before those words stain his heart even further.

“Want to talk about it?” The bleached blonde man in the room asks, resting his cheek against his guitar to pay his utmost attention to him. “Vernon knows. Love does, too. But you’ve never told me what happened with your Valentine.”

Maybe, Hoshi seems like the kind who doesn’t take anything seriously—but he does. His eyes glaze over as he quietly speaks into the night, but Wonwoo can only stand up from his seat, eager to lock himself in his own room and think of what exactly happened. He doesn’t know what’s going on inside his head. “It’s nothing special,” But it is. Wonwoo believed in a lot of things—that Van Gogh was the best artist of his generation, that knowledge is the best form of revenge, and that she was his person. The only individual in this world that could see him for who he was and still, gauged him to be better. “Just what happens to everyone.” He fixes his jeans then, hanging low on his hips when Hoshi scoffs.

“What happens to everyone?”

“…Just, falling in love and never being able to make it work.”

“That’s not your fault.”

He stops in front of the door that leads to his room, and he wants to believe what Hoshi says. Maybe, if she had understood him as an artist, they’d be together. Perhaps, if he had just listened to her, he wouldn’t have written an entire album about heartbreak. It was not inherently his fault, but partly, like DNA that splits in two and creates the atrocity of what they were. The beauty in the fallout. “I’m heading to sleep.”

A hand wraps around his thigh, caging him in his spot when Hoshi, with a widened gaze, asks: “Who is it about?” The gossip must’ve gotten to him, too. Secrecy at its finest made an entire festival for the world to enjoy. “Like, who out of all the women they say it’s about…the album is actually written for.”

“None of them.” Wonwoo conquers, pushing his body away from him with a dizzied smile on his face. “…And that’s all I’m saying.”

“Wonwoo—!”

“I’m not saying who it is about.”

“…Damn it.” Hoshi adds, finally leaning back on his seat and returning to his guitar, soon after playing a tune with a few invented lyrics: “Jeon Wonwoo has a stick up his ass…”

The door closes behind him with a swoosh, all thoughts of rationality building themselves down out of pure impotence. The room is far too tiny, and Hoshi will join him sooner than later when he finishes his little guitar rendezvous, but that’s far from the point now. With each step he takes towards his bed, the more he notices his phone. Changed it like four times in the past two years because of crazy groupies, obsessed people sending him threats and just because he could do so. He wanted change so much that he doesn’t need it anymore.

The bed welcomes his weight as if he had never left, molding to his every curve, bouncing at his mere presence. His fingers subtly reach for his phone, lurking through his contacts like a man searching for answers.

His past lover is taken, and he’s stupid enough to press down on her contact even when he’s not drunk. Not an ounce of alcohol clads his vision, his stance, and that only makes it more pathetic.

But, how could she be taken? If love’s not as easy to get rid of for him, it should be difficult for her, too.

The ringing stops, and someone picks up, though the voice that welcomes him is old, a femme to be exact, but definitely over her sixties. “Hello?” She asks on the voice, and Wonwoo closes his eyes tightly out of embarrassment. “Who is calling this late?”

Right, a sixty-something-year-old woman is probably not used to two in the morning calls.

But who is, actually?

Out of embarrassment, his thumb presses down on the red button and he’s once again left with his silence. This has to mean that he should stop—calling his ex-girlfriend, who said was taken, is not the worst thing he has done, but it’s outright pathetic. For a second, he thinks of texting someone else—a friend, a model, a singer, someone who clearly wants to pay attention to him, who wouldn’t mind having the star of the year talking to them about anything and everything but her.

Yet, his mind can only think about an old friend, and it’s not even a friend to start with. Calling him would earn him a few insults, so he opts to text the only direct line he has to what he wants to get back. The thread that could move him closer to getting an answer.

To: Xu Minghao.

Hello, Minghao. This is Wonwoo.

Jeon Wonwoo from Love’s Midnight.

Minghao probably recognizes him more as his friend’s ex-boyfriend, but hey, he doesn’t know what to say.

Still, he mentions her name.

To: Xu Minghao.

Do you have her number?

I really need to talk to her.

For a few seconds, he wishes he could dissipate. Of course, Xu Minghao probably has made his life, twirled in his bedsheets and perhaps, with a lover that fits him better than he ever fit his ex. He’ll probably get insulted nonetheless, knowing just how protective he is over the podcast host. It’s two in the fucking morning, Wonwoo’s not drunk, but he really wishes he was so he could have an excuse for being…

Stupid.

A dick.

From: Xu Minghao.

Are you drunk?

To: Xu Minghao.

No.

From: Xu Minghao.

Are you planning on getting drunk?

To: Xu Minghao.

No.

Her number is linked soon after, not without forgetting to add something else.

From: Xu Minghao.

Anything you say can and will be held against you.

I’ll know if you do something stupid.

Don’t fuck it up, dude.

The thing is that Wonwoo is a thinker. Immature at times, or most of the time, but really an overthinker. His dad always told him that going through life as if he’s in a game of chess would help him make right decisions. Count every movement as a step forward, but also a step closer to either winning or losing. Each and every action could cause the fallout of others, of himself, or absolute success. He doesn’t know where he stands as the phone rings and he awaits her response.

“Hello?”

That groggy tone, he has heard before. Whenever someone wakes her up from a nap or a deep night of sleep, her voice seems to be eerily quiet. It’s the only time he has heard her something far from perfect, not as knowledgeable as she is. Love-filled confessions were given at the peak of the night, when Wonwoo’s fingers would ghost over the delicate spot on her waist and she’d grasp his hand with her warm ones and say: I love you.

Muffled, silent, followed by sleep, and yet so meaningful.

“What do you mean you’re taken?” Wonwoo wants to say a million things. Say hi, and indicate that her podcast has only gotten better. That he’s sorry for not believing in her, or rather, not knowing how to show it. However, his mind is clouded with the image of her, holding hands with someone else, kissing someone else, being in absolute love with someone that is not him—and making it work. Egotistic as it can be, he is.

The bed ruffles, and for a moment, she’s silent. Too unlike her until she breathes out, much more awake now, surprised even. “Wonwoo, why are you calling me?”

The only time he has heard that surprised tone was after their first kiss. One would think that someone as beautiful as her would’ve kissed him with little to no reaction after, but his collarbones can almost feel the weight of her face at the memory. Her features hid away from him, the dumbest of smiles accompanied with a few giggles of her own. It was as if she had been waiting for him, and he had taken too long.

It’s not that different now.

“I—Uh, I needed to hear you. Hear from you.” Wonwoo doesn’t know what to say, straightening up his position on the bed and taking his pillow to slot his fingertips against the fabric. “I told you what I really felt and what I did, and all you do is ignore me.”

“I’m not friends with my exes, sorry.” She replies, and Wonwoo is about to retaliate, but the words have come back to her. Angry. Burning. Scalding. “And why in all the fucking hell would I have to tell you why I’m taken?”

“Because—” He wants to be honest for the first time in a while. With himself and with her. “Because we used to be friends before we were lovers, and I still care about the kind of person you’re seeing—”

“Do you really care?” The scoff that leaves her lips brings a frown to his face. “Go ask one of your models, or Song Eunji, about who they’re seeing and what they’re doing with their romantic lives. You don’t need to protect me from anything.”

Oh, so she knew about Eunji. “I’m not with any of them.”

“And you’re not with me, either.”

Wonwoo has to run his fingers through his messy black hair in order to grasp onto something else, or organize his thoughts before he goes absolutely insane. “I’m not.”

Silence. “So, why are you calling?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you loving someone else.” He breathes out, and before she could interrupt him with one of her pointy, correct, honest speeches, he bares his heart and soul. “…I’ve only been yours, I’m still yours. I want to know who it is that made you not want to be mine again.”

Again must not be in her vocabulary, and if he listens close enough, he can hear the change in her breathing, as if she starts to live life slower. “So, you date some model and I’m supposed to stay single?”

Fuck.

“I didn’t date her.”

“Then, you slept with her. Or various women, I don’t know.”

He can only stay silent.

“I know we broke up, and it’s totally okay for you to do that, but why would you ask me to stay waiting for you, when you didn’t wait for me either?”

“Okay, shit, sorry.” Wonwoo tries to reorganize his thoughts. He’s stupid. She wasn’t wrong when she said most men are stupid in the past, and now he has entered the spectrum. “I did it because it just…I just…I needed to get you out of my head.”

“By sleeping with other women?”

“Two.”

“Oh, two.” She releases, sarcasm thick in her voice. “What would you do if I said I have had more than two?”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, imagining her going on dates or perhaps, simply looking for someone in a bar. For men to sweeten her lips with a taste of their own, before treating her like less than what she deserves. It’s not what he wants for her, but it’s the same medicine he took. “It’d suck, but it’d be acceptable. We are not together.”

“Exactly.”

“…But who is it?”

“Who?”

“Who is the person you’re seeing right now? Out of your repertoire of people.”

She remains silent for a few seconds, as if she’s thinking too deeply, and yet, Wonwoo can’t keep his mouth from running. For the first time in his life, he wants to say a lot instead of saying nothing at all.

“No one.” She whispers into the dark night, the lullaby of his dreams coming directly from his lips. He wants to call it a second chance, but it just means solitude. “…Because unlike you, I wasn’t able to move on as easily.”

“I didn’t, fuck, I didn’t move on.” Wonwoo replies, laying on his stomach as he hides his face on the sheets. “I was just stupid. I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Do so or I’ll hang up. Last chance to hear my voice—”

“I wanted to get over you, and I thought I’d do what most rockstars do. I’d just sleep with someone and feel powerful, like I don’t care…” His voice trails, eyes glistening when he lifts his gaze. “But I do care. I care about you.”

“…I don’t know if I should trust you.” The insecurity is palpable through her voice, as if she’s a star in this sky and she’s only getting farther away from him. Tiny, miniscule for her; big and bright for him. “Wonwoo, we didn’t understand each other then, when we were barely starting to be the people we wanted to be. How would we understand each other now that my podcast is doing the best it has ever done, and you have about every woman in this damned country wanting to throw their wet panties at you?”

Looking up at the ceiling, Wonwoo wants to say the truth. What he has always regret not telling her. “I’ll always try my hardest for you. I didn’t do it then, but I’d go back and do it differently if I could.”

The line cuts short after she hangs up, leaving him with no more than a sharp intake of breath.

###

The chocolate on the man’s ice-cream cracks under the force of his teeth, sliced nuts meeting the white substance in between—vanilla ice-cream, most likely, with a few lines of caramel. She had forgotten just how much Mingyu seemed to enjoy life, lips forever petrified in a smile as he looked around in the ice cream shop. Her delight has disappeared into the depths of her stomach, but Mingyu is on his second ice cream. Not a care in this world. Not a single wrinkle on his face to indicate he is feeling the weather a little bit strongly. He’s just eating, living, existing, breathing.

Jade tagged along, because something about her being in his father’s label and Mingyu absolutely needing guitar classes means that they had to ask her to come to their little ‘not a date’. Judging by the way Jade’s cheeks stain pink, and how she continuously play with the strands of hair, becoming a shy version of herself she had rarely gotten to see—unless they went to a concert and got to meet the artists backstage—, she thinks there is a reason why everything felt so inherently wrong with Mingyu, and with her setting up date for Minghao and Jade.

The young woman’s eyes glaze over when Mingyu smiles at her, and her fingertips reach for his lips to rub the chocolate away. Those stares, in between shyness and comfort, in the stage of not knowing what to say and yet, doing everything all at once—she lived that with Wonwoo, and she knows they’re probably less than a month away from calling it the truth.

So, she stands up, because if she can do something right in this life it’s making two people get together, even if she has to fake a few actions in the process. “I’m getting another ice cream. Want one, Jade?”

“We’ll share.” Mingyu adds, already putting his newly bitten chocolate ice cream up to Jade’s lips, and he barely ignores Jade’s widened eyes as she wraps her lips around the sweet and bites on the chocolate.

“Okay…” She whispers, lifting her hands in the air with her phone dinging in between her fingertips. “I’ll be right back.”

She doesn’t miss the way that Jade whispers ‘take your time’, before Mingyu joins her with sweet laughter.

Ugh, love.

It’s so motherfucking annoying when you don’t have it.

But, let’s admit it—it’s cute in its early stages.

To: Hao.

So, when I set you up with Jade…

From: Hao.

You mean: Worst idea you’ve ever had?

To: Hao.

Yeah.

Did you hate me for it because Jade’s not your type, or because you knew she’d be a better match for Mingyu?

From: Hao.

Jade denies it, but she’s always had a thing for Mingyu.

To: Hao.

Oh, tea?

From: Hao.

I guess.

She drunkenly admitted it to me once.

Well, initially she said she wanted Mingyu to tie her to a ceiling fan and make her spin.

But I continued to talk her out of it and she admitted that she thought he was cute.

And I’ve been working on building up her crush on him for a year straight.

To: Hao.

Trust Xu Minghao on finding the love of your life.

Upon approaching the counter to order her ice cream, she hears someone softly calling out her name. It’s a delicate voice, definitely not used a lot, as if the air could take away the words in one single swish. Locking her phone as she turns to the side, she sees a smaller young woman by her side. Probably on her teens, with black hair and red highlights, a band t-shirt representing the pinnacle of her youth. Long ago, before Jeon Wonwoo even existed in her life, she may have looked like this.

“It’s you.”

But she wouldn’t have said that to a complete stranger, lowering her voice to a deep whisper as she clings onto her backpack. The pins read Love’s Midnight name and logo, making her swallow harshly.

“Sorry, I don’t know you—”

The teen fan gets her phone out of her pocket, lurking through her pictures as she speaks. “You’re the woman Valentine was written about,” The lisp on her tone is ever-present, clinging to her every syllable as she shows the device to her, pictures with Wonwoo displayed one by one, moved by her finger to show even more proof. Her face behind important pictures of their first few gigs, a few messages in social media that she was sure she deleted before— “Fans have been going crazy trying to find who it was about, but I saw you in the pictures and decided to look you up.”

She has to take a step back. Fear overtakes her. A young fan could do anything they wanted with this information, and if she was able to find all that…this is not the normal kind of fan. With shaking fingertips, she clasps her phone against her chest. “Did you follow me here, kid?”

“No. This is dad’s ice cream shop.” A smack of her bubblegum fills the air, twirling her finger against the straps of her backpack. “…I just saw you here and I thought it was destiny.”

“It’s not destiny.” She speaks, curt and clear. “And also, I’m not the woman you’re looking for. Sorry.”

“You’re in all his pictures from the past—”

“We were friends.” And she doesn’t know why she’s explaining this to a teenager, instead of actually calling her father and telling him that her daughter is batshit crazy. “And it’s none of your business, ain’t it? If you really like a celebrity, you need to learn how to respect their privacy.”

“Everyone is looking for his Valentine, and if I am right with my assumptions, we’ll finally get to know—”

“What do you earn from it?” Turning around, she spares one glance at Mingyu and Jade, with Mingyu looking at them with a frown on their features. Confusion, definitely. “Whoever it is, that’s the drummer’s issue.”

“It’s you! It’s so you!” The teenager says, a smile on her face as she jumps on her spot. “The blog’s so gonna love this!”

Grasping her hand with force on top of the teenager’s, she sighs deeply. “Don’t do that. That’s wrong.” She starts, eyes raking over the room before clearing her throat. “One day, you’re going to be older, and you’re going to realize those people you look up to are as normal as you are. You don’t need to make them more important than they already are, for you or for anyone. Don’t let being a fan of someone take over your life.”

The teen looks down at their joined hands, eyelashes fluttering with the heavy mascara, chest going up and down with each breath she takes, deeper than the last. “Okay, sorry…” She whispers, pulling away from her. “I must’ve gotten it wrong.”

“Don’t worry, I was also a fan of some people in my time.” She shrugs, returning her gaze to her friends to give them a tight smile. Everything’s alright. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Alright, thank you.”

The problem is that only that night when she gets home, Minghao links her straight to an article, written fresh from the oven and reading:

Forty Women (+1 Unexpected Guest) That Can Be The Inspiration Behind Love’s Midnight’s Valentine!

Scrolling down with shaking fingertips, she prays to the heaven for her to not be in that list—for it to be another rumor, another person that has been wanting to be thought of by Jeon Wonwoo, but once she reaches spot number forty-one, her heart feels like it has fallen out of her chest.

Her name is on the forty-first spot.

41. Podcast Host, Communication Major, Music Minor: This one is the most unexpected, yet the newest guess. Fans were able to compile pictures of two or three years ago of Jeon Wonwoo and this podcast host. Not only that, but she seemed to be close friends with Vernon, Love and Andy! Ouch!

Personal pictures were attached under the small paragraph, tugging at her heart strings.

Isn’t that the pink dress Wonwoo always talked about? Or could it be Song Eunji’s favorite color?

As if things couldn’t get any harder…

###

This is Eunkyung’s little dream. Her tea party filled with reporters, cameras, flashes, cigarettes and bodyguards. Everyone says that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger—and he feels like he has become a weightlifter with how much he has coped with, leaning back on his seat as the reporters in front of them beg to eat them alive. Each question pointier than the other, each silence dragging on for longer than the last. The center of attention is not the album, not Hoshi’s guitar solos or Vernon’s enigmatic bass skills. The center of attention is that Jeon Wonwoo had fallen in love, and couldn’t seem to get his old lover back.

His friends are different, and so is he. It should make him feel better that the evolution is ever-present in their lives, but it isn’t. The man he sees projected on the glass of water in front of him is exactly who he would’ve never thought he’d become. His black hair is pushed away, forehead is full display, not a single imperfection left for the world to see as he’s covered in makeup. The red leather jacket makes him sweaty, but he still wears it. It’s a gift from Versace and there’s only two of them in the entire world; he just has to wear it, according to his stylist.

One of the reporters stands up from his seat, fixing the blue sweater atop his toned body. The long strands of his black hair give him a bohemian look, but the preppy outfit and the glasses make him look somewhat nerdy. He could definitely be a reporter in music, but Wonwoo doesn’t really give a shit, does he?

“Wonwoo, excuse me—” The man starts, voice as nasal as ever as he brings his recorder up to his lips. “Forty-one women have been linked to be your muse for the latest album, but only one of them stands out.” He already knows the answer. Song Eunji. If rolling his eyes was an option, he’d do it, but he’s been staring at the cameras flashing for too long and his eyes feel like they may give up on him at any moment.

“Sorry, uh, we said no questions about that.” Wonwoo leans forward on his microphone, offering a brief smile in order to keep it at peace. The least he wants is drama for being an absolute diva.

The reporter doesn’t listen, calling out her name as if he knew her. As if they had shared cups of coffee, mornings where conversations merged into memories, nights in which her tears couldn’t be stopped with memories of either really good or really bad times. “…Podcast host and communication graduate, whose connection with you was clarified by your fans after finding pictures from two years ago, seemingly in a relationship with you.”

Fuck.

Where was his publicist when he needed her the most?

He didn’t know that his fans were able to find such things. Each trace of his past with her had been deleted—for the sake of his band, and for the sake of forgetting her. “I won’t make any statements.”

“So, you do admit that you were in a relationship with her?”

“I said,” He presses his lips to the microphone, lifting his eyebrows in the process. “No statements. Meaning, no comment.”

“Ignoring my question is a confirmation, Wonwoo.”

This time around, Vernon is the one who takes place in the interview. “Ignoring his complaints about not wanting to answer is a confirmation of your lack of knowledge in reporting, sir.”

The masses in front of them go crazy, each asking questions louder than the last, penetrating his ears with absolute hatred. Wonwoo stumbles backwards by the time his body leaves his seat, shaking his head when his manager tries to reach out for him, make him sit down before he absolutely ruins his career. Yet, the only person he can think about is her. His fans had found her, the reporters knew about her, too. A life void of privacy simply because of him.

Once backstage, his shoulders tense, cradling his phone in between his hands and bringing it up to his ear. The phone rings a few times, but she always hangs up. Each and every call is ignored exactly in its beginning.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I didn’t tell anyone about us.

Tell me you’re alright, please.

Please, answer the phone.

Are you okay?

Why aren’t you answering?

I’m sorry for everything.

Regret bites at him, slices him to bits as he sits down on the sofa, hearing the commotion outside and yet, doing nothing to conceal it. Love would hate him for this, tension rising between them ever since he became the center of attention—but he never asked for this. If he could take it back to the time in which he had her, and Love’s Midnight only played small gigs in some bars downtown, he would.

And he’s been meaning to.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I know you didn’t tell anyone.

I’m alright.

I just need time to think of what I’m going to do.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I could book a hotel for you so you feel safer.

Paparazzi are going to look for you.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I’m staying at Minghao’s, don’t worry.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

Fine, but take care of yourself.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo?

He can imagine her, calling out his name softly as if she had never left him, as if everything was alright—

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

Tell me.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I need you to take care, as well.

I don’t want you to stress out over this.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I’ll take care, baby.

Before he could regret what he said last, she left him on read. As if she had heard him too, but decided not to listen.

###

The only beverage Minghao’s going to give her while staying at his place is lukewarm tea with honey. No matter how hard she tries to get him to give her coffee, it doesn’t happen.

The cars pass by the windows, stuffed by her breath that fans upon the clear glass. Her heart can’t stay still, much like her hands, fiddling against the other, waiting for the bad news. They have arrived—the world knows her, and past the comfort of Minghao’s place, she knows there are cameras flashing in front of her house. They had captured her before she got here, and after endless twists from Minghao, they managed to get to his apartment safe, sound and unnoticed.

Each and every insecurity is highlighted by the cameras. The fact that there had been someone else after her mocks her—tells her that people are just going to end up comparing her to those after her, or even before her. Ghosts that never existed in Wonwoo’s life, too. Some may be taller, some more petite. Some may have a clearer tone of voice, others may be unable to speak in anything other than profanities. Some may kill it on the guitar, and some may kill for a guitar. Everyone in Wonwoo’s life has been so different and yet, she’s the only one with an entire album written about her.

It’s winning the feeling of feeling unique that makes her feel less like shit. Wonwoo cared enough about her to write a million apologies in the form of notes, for him to pour his entire heart out in a guitar, a set of drums, a piano, a voice, the bass—all inspired by her, they rotate around her like the constellations around the universe. The smile she misses had dissipated with the memories of them, and she wants to bring them back. Fuck two years, more than six hundred days, because time is just a concept we don’t understand.

“Hey,” Minghao’s hair is not disheveled, put-together like he’s about to go over the runway with the newest pajama collection from, probably, Louis Vuitton. His body leans against the doorframe, wood against his soft skin, looking at her with worry as she sits on the bed of the room in Minghao’s apartment that he doesn’t use. “There has to be some good to this.”

“Yeah?” She asks, tilting her head far enough for her forehead to rest against the window. “Tell me what it is.”

The tech moves closer until he is in front of her, delicately kneeling in front of her before patting her leg. “This could bring potential listeners to our podcast—”

“Or girls that will hate me because I’m dating their rocker fantasy. Minghao, get real.” Her voice isn’t meant to sound so sharp, but it does. Her world shatters while Minghao can only see from up close, first row, even.

“Don’t think about them. Think about you.”

“What am I supposed to think about?”

“What you want out of this. If this is only a sign from the world to just get in contact with Wonwoo and clear things up. His career, yours, your relationship—” Minghao is speaking too fast, fingers fiddling with his own hair before sighing. “And if you’re not going to do it, I am. I can’t keep seeing you haltering your life because a relationship didn’t work. You are the one that needs to get real.”

She pushes his hand away then, crossing her arms over her chest to shelter herself. “Well, hear me out, you haven’t been in love, but I have. It’s damn fucking annoying when it doesn’t work, and you think that’s the only man that will ever get you, know you, feel you like he does. It’s not the same when you imagined your entire life with a man and he’s suddenly taken away from you. He changes. Twists. He’s not the same anymore, but you know that deep within him, there’s that man you love.” Her chest shakes with every breath she takes, and Minghao takes this time to step away from her. “And you wait for him. Wait for the day he realizes that you never meant to make him feel bad, and hope that he never meant to say the words he said to you. You don’t know what regret is, but I do—”

“Just mend it.”

She wishes it could be that easy. “And then, what?”

“Why do you always have to think about the future?” Her eyes inspect Minghao’s features, as if pulling away every thread of his enigma.

“Because the future is always happier than the present, ain’t it?”

His hand hovers over her shoulder, as if he wants to touch her, shelter her, but he doesn’t. Instead, Minghao smacks his hand against his side, looking for his phone before speaking up. “It’s up to us to make our present happy, too.”

The only response he gets is the sound of her sipping on her tea. Bland tea that Minghao loves, but doesn’t keep him in the room as he closes the door behind him with a thud.

For some moments, she can only look ahead. The cameras follow her, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she closes her eyes, only to awaken to the world trying to get information about her—a picture where something sags in her body, or her pimples are visible, or the stress marks around her face become wrinkles. However, even sleep seems to be out of town today, and she can’t do much but watch some movies on TV. Let the world decide for her again. The Notebook. Then, she couldn’t quite look at the screen without tears on her face.

When sleep welcomes her, it doesn’t stay for long.

It’s like the culprit that opens the door to the room, closing it behind him with an accidental bang—like the way he left. When her eyes can finally clearly see the outline of him in the dark, Wonwoo becomes a living being after years of trying to erase him. Dark hair pushed away from his face thanks to the droplets of rain that had coated both his leather jacket and his black t-shirt. His boots squeak against the flooring when he moves, stopping whatever force brings him closer to her. Eddie The Eagle plays in the background, but no star has ever been as bright as him. As the twinkle in his eyes when he breathes out his name as if he had never forgotten the lullaby in it. As if, for some reason, she’d always have a taste of that tongue and those lips, even when they are nowhere near or over hers.

Proof that love exists beneath him, over him, in him, is when he asks: “Are you alright?”

She could say no, or even just confirm it. Her words could turn into lies or truths, but they decide to stay in between. With him, saying too little or too much is granted to be a loss. “…I could be worse.”

Wonwoo lets the jacket fall on the floor with a thud, and before he could part his lips to say anything else as he nears her, she asks:

“How did you get in?”

“I was hiding in some hotel downtown, when I realized I just couldn’t leave you alone through this.” His voice is gentle, barely above a whisper when the wind keeps blowing on the windows, rain pattering like droplets of paint. “So, I called Minghao, and he told me he’d leave the door open and I just could get in.”

“No one followed you, right?” Worry piles in her expression when mirrored in his starry eyes. The music of their love has lulled to a weak piano tune. They fell, lifted themselves up, only to be pushed to the ground again.

“I made sure no one did.” And the weight of him falls on the edge of the bed, the gray bedsheets wrinkling under his wet presence, leaving an imprint of him. A memory as strong as the ones she holds of him. “I’m sorry this is the way we ended up meeting again.”

Chances, figures in percentages that we don’t expect. We hope for them, and rarely get them. The chance of meeting Wonwoo again was lost thanks to his lack of privacy, but it would a lie if she said she hadn’t been worrying about him all night. In the edge of the bed, biting at her nails, wanting nothing more than to reach out for him.

Who loves you now, Wonwoo?

Who loves you more than I do?

Is it the world? Your fans? Your bandmates? Is it someone else?

Have you been loved at all while I have been gone?

“It had to happen someday,” She whispers into the night, bringing her knees up her chest, taking her coat off and tossing it his way. The cotton material meets his hands quickly, draping it over his body as if the tears that had been dropped in the same garment manage to warm him up. “Not the way I expected it to happen—”

His lips quirk up in a shy smile, shivering with happiness and glee, or perhaps from the coldness of the room. “You expected it to happen?”

It’s her time to shut her mouth for a second, thinking of the next step. “…It’s one of those vague daydreams I have. What would happen if we met again?”

“And what did you think was going to happen?”

“…That I’d try to run away.” She replies, and his smile falls at that moment. Yet, she doesn’t want to lie to him. “But if you got close enough, I’d start thinking of your hands around my waist, or the little kisses you used to press to my hands when you held them, and I wouldn’t be able to keep myself away from you.”

Wonwoo gets closer, like a wanderer trying to land on his preferred island. Swimming through their insecurities, the issues that pulled them away— “I like that.”

“You do?” She asks. “I think I sound stupid.”

“…Love’s like that.” He shrugs. “I took the stupid decision to write an entire album about you, but here’s the thing: I don’t regret it.” His words condense every single bit of coldness inside her chest, letting the tremble of his voice awaken the senses that never left her, loving him to death. “If writing a song about you is a sin, take me to hell.”

Kicking him softly on the leg, she chuckles. “Metaphorical as ever.”

“I like to read.”

“I know, you liked reading more than talking to me.” There, one of the issues of their relationship arises.

“And you don’t know how many books I have wished to un-read just to hear you talking again.” He replies, sighing soon after as he plays with one of the threads of the blanket. “But that’s life. I make bad decisions, they bite me in the ass, and then, I try to mend it.”

“And how are you planning to mend it?”

His arms extend at that moment, taut muscles contracting against the wet shirt. “I offer a hug for the night, if that’s alright.”

She wants to say no, but her body welcomes his embrace, feeling his strong chest pressed against hers, the curve of his spine, the way his scent always seems to be there—so warm, so his, so memorable, and yet, unable to feel as strong as a perfume. It is as though the scent of him drenched in rain makes her feel better, not quite as cold as in that bed alone, even when her skin clads itself in goosebumps. Her heart thumps with so much force that he probably feels it against his waist, in the way he leans back and cocoons her into place. She can’t look at him, just because she knows herself, and she’s one centimeter away from falling.

“It’s what I need.”

“Good.”

Zero point five centimeters away from falling.

Then, his breathing becomes tranquil, and his lips rest atop her hair.

Zero point twenty-five centimeters away from falling…

Zero point seventeen…

Fallen.

###

She knows he is still in that apartment when she hears his fingertips drumming against the counter.

You know, that’s also one of the issues of their relationship…the one they had two years ago. Waking up to the sound of Wonwoo playing whatever ACDC song on their kitchen counter wasn’t a pleasant noise in the past. When she’d go to the bathroom, phone perched in between her fingertips, she’d feel the rhythm thrumming through the tiles, interrupting her precious time of privacy. He’d do it before going to sleep, when bored, when watching a show but on her legs. It’s one of those things she’d ask him to stop doing, but as her eyes open and she comes face to face with the opened door, she feels safe.

Because Wonwoo is there, and that’s more than she could ask at this moment where her name is imprinted in every magazine. Her hand looks for her phone, and for a moment, she wants to stop. God knows what most of the pages she follows on her Instagram page must have written about her—gossip sites that she is not proud of following, but does it to have topics to talk about in her podcast. Whatever. She’s a nobody, there is surely one or two things about her—

But when the light of her phone casts down on her with horrid pictures of her going through the seas of paparazzi to get out of there as soon as possible, she feels shallow.

She’s not a podcast host.

Not Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend.

But Song Eunji’s rival.

Comparisons, one after the other, from physical appearance to the ultimate statement coming directly from Eunji. Some messages that could be understood as a simple song lyric, if it wasn’t from Wonwoo’s song itself, displayed on a throwback picture of the two of them. Finished, with of course, as much class as the model can have on an apparent drunken night, when she writes down on her caption—

Shout out to the man who writes an entire album about me and yet, can’t last more than four minutes in bed. Love you, Woo.

The laughing emojis after surely don’t settle well in her stomach.

She has to put the phone to the side to think about what bothers her—Wonwoo being with Eunji could be it, but it could also be Eunji taking the spotlight that does it. Maybe, it’s just the fact that she’s involved in all of this, covers thrown away from her body as she goes towards the kitchen, only to watch her best friend and ex-boyfriend seated face to face. Minghao, peacefully drinking from a cup of warm tea, and Wonwoo making conversation as he plays whatever difficult song he can’t seem to get out of his head.

It’s the fact that she hates it—this feeling that tells her she’s proud of being his muse, but in secret. It’s the fact that, all this time, she’d rather have him than anyone else—words be forgotten, actions be damned, only at this moment when his eyes meet hers again, and he dares say:

“Good morning. Slept well?”

How not to think of the fact that, after pushing him to the bathroom to get him to change into warmer, drier clothes from Minghao’s closet, she ended up falling sleep on his arms? That being in silence felt comfortable when around him? That healing is not quite complete when she can’t have him?

“Better than I expected.” She whispers, moving over until she is closer to him, inspecting his features before breathing out softly. “Eunji said the album is about her. People are going crazy over it.”

Wonwoo’s features soften for a second, head thrown back when a groan escapes his lips. “It’s not—”

“I need you to tell me why you wrote an entire album about me.” Her eyes don’t close, honesty overtaking her when her hands ball to her sides, breathing controlled, world stopping just for her to listen to him.

Wonwoo’s brown eyes shake, looking over to Minghao as the dullest shade of pink takes over his face, bathing him in an enchanting glow. “To forget about you,” He says, though he laughs at his antics a bit soon after. “Didn’t work out.”

“Why did you want to forget about me?”

“I thought you’d never come back.”

“And did you want me to come back?”

“From the moment you left that hotel room.”

“Why?”

“��I’m going to leave.” Minghao announces softly, already parting ways to go to his room with his mug of tea, but she can’t keep her eyes away from Wonwoo much longer. The question lingers in the air, just in time for him to connect his hands with hers.

“Why, Wonwoo? Why write about me, think about me, when you could’ve just let go?”

“It’s not that easy when it’s about you.” He says, a small smile playing on his features when he pulls her closer, not all at once but step by step. Slowly, she falls in between his legs, looks into his eyes when he lets sincerity live within his words. “I got everything I could ever wish for, and I still wanted you.”

“…Oh, God.” Her smile can’t hide itself when she wraps her arms around his shoulders, head resting on his chest as she chuckles. “Why do I like that so much?”

“Maybe, because you wanted me back, too?” The hope lingers on his voice, and she has to pull away for a second, looking up and down his features as she licks his lips.

“Let’s fix this entire mess first.”

“I’ll deny you are my album’s muse if that makes you feel better.”

For a moment, she feels the weight falling off her shoulders, but instead, she perks up, spine straightening when she says: “And why not confirm it instead?”

“Would you want to? This world I live in, it’s not good—”

“If I have to confirm a past relationship just to have you again, I will. I would.”

“…I won’t do that to you.” Wonwoo whispers, lips pressing to her knuckles like they used to at the earliest stages of their relationship. “You know what I want to do? Mend the lost time with you. Think and heal together. Talk to each other. I don’t want anyone else but us having a say on what we are…not stardom, not the band, not anyone.”

When she looks into his eyes, it feels like the old Wonwoo is back. Not the rockstar drummer that everyone has fallen for, but Jeon Wonwoo who’d laugh at the idea of ever being famous.

And it’s nice to think the world is different today, that they’re alone and there are not a thousand pictures of her online.

“Let them talk,” He finishes. “The only person I want to listen to is you, anyways.”

An avenue of tears has welcomed a sweet lake, and when she has seen her reflection in the water, she captures Wonwoo’s figure beside her. Maybe, they can get through this together. Perhaps, music united them, separated them, and now it has brought them back together again.

That’s the magic of love, isn’t it? Trusting again.

“…And you’ll hear me talk a lot about the past two years, Jeon Wonwoo.”

With a smile, he answers. “And I’ll gladly listen.”

Though, the only sound she gets to hear is the small intake of breath from his lips when she leans forward and tastes the early morning cigarettes in him. Everything she has ever wanted exists in him, so imperfect and yet, so fitting for her.

#wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #wonwoo au #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #drummer!au #yea i wrote about wonwoo bc whenever i have wifi i have binge watched gose lemme be #also SUPER inspired by one of those ask games i did and hehehehehe i'm excited

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gay-otlc · 3 years

Text

Little Miss Perfect

Summary: Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful. Straight A's are most successful. Straight forward is fastest. Straight girls are the most perfect. And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight. Ae doesn't get a choice.

Little miss perfect, that's me

Content warnings: Internalized homophobia, homophobia in general, cursing, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, lmk if I should add more.

Word count: 3143

(Read on AO3)

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight path, I don't cut corners

Biana Amberly Vacker is beautiful, and smart, but that's hardly a surprise. Even before ae was born, everyone knew ae would be beautiful, and smart. Ae's a Vacker, after all. Ae wakes up early to straighten aer hair and stays up late to study, so ae's tired all the time, but ae's gorgeous and ae's at the top of aer class, so does it really matter?

Ae takes life one day at a time, one step after another, because if ae slows down or turns around, everything ae's running away from might catch up with aer.

So ae doesn't do that. Biana keeps following the straight path and hopes the road ahead of aer doesn't wind too much. Make sure every step leads aer to perfection.

I make a point to be on time Head of the student council

Not only that, but Biana's on time for everything. Aer parents make sure of that, but ae probably would be even without their help- Biana likes to plan ahead. Or really, ae doesn't know for sure whether ae likes it, or if it makes ae feel trapped. But at least it saves aer the confusion and terror of an uncertain life. Whatever the reason, ae makes little notes in aer planner for all aer appointments.

And bigger notes in aer journal for the rest of aer life.

Make it through Foxfire.

Manifest an ability.

Get a respectable job.

Marry a respectable boy.

Have children.

Step four... doesn't seem so great, by which ae means downright nauseating, but that doesn't matter. What ae wants doesn't matter. And anyway, this will probably be what ae wants in the long run. Ae's just not old enough for boys yet. Plenty of time for that in the future.

Ae'll be on time for every step of aer perfect fucking life.

I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney

Biana doesn't break rules- mostly because ae's afraid of how aer father would punish aer. Either way, ae's never snuck out at night, never spent time with the classmates he said were beneath aer, never wore something he said showed too much skin, never ate more than ae was allowed to. Every single one of his rules, ae followed.

If that meant not going to Marella Redek's party because her mother was too "strange," even though everyone else was talking about how fun it would be, ae wouldn't go. Ae would just miss out. Fun.

Ae heard that at the parties, they played human music. What would that even sound like? Fitz knew- he got to go to the human world all the time, but Biana didn't. Still, after incessant begging, aer dad let aer listen to one song, by a human named Paul McCartney. It wasn't bad. Quite good, in comparison to elvin music. Still... ae wished ae could listen to more.

Of course, ae wouldn't. That would be disobeying aer dad. And ae didn't do that. She always had to be the perfect daughtaer.

If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say... Well, hmm

Lying wasn't good, of course. Ae shouldn't lie to people who asked how ae was doing.

But ae couldn't admit to being anything less than perfect.

So ae'd just mumble.

Perfect until proven otherwise.

I was adopted when I was two My parents spoiled me rotten

Okay, so Biana isn't actually adopted- but for years, ae thought ae had been. Always out of place in the perfect Vacker family, because everything comes so effortlessly to them, they're exactly what elvin society wants without any struggle at all. And ae... wasn't like that. Too loud, too argumentative, not quite ladylike enough. Not smart enough, ae needed to work harder. Not pretty enough.

Not interested in the right people.

But when ae learned to stay quiet, keep aer head down, and follow all the damn rules, aer parents seemed to like aer better. Well, Alden did. Della always appreciated aer, however quietly, slipping aer little pieces of mallowmelt behind Alden's back even when he told aer that ae had to be thinner. Whispering compliments into aer ears after Alden scolded aer so much his voice was hoarse from screaming and aers was hoarse from crying.

And when Alden was proud of aer, she would get everything ae wanted. All the pretty dresses. All the sparkles and sketchbooks and sewing kits. Trips to Atlantis or Eternalia. Anything ae wanted, to reward her for being Little Miss Perfect.

Often I ask myself, "What did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten

Some of the time- who the hell is ae kidding, it's most, if not all, of the time- Biana feels like... ae doesn't deserve aer last name, or aer popularity, or any of aer privileges in life. Mentors at Foxfire practically revere aer and aer peers bend over backwards to be liked by aer.

Ae is so fucking sick of it.

Why aer? Ae wants to scream the question at every single person who treats aer differently. Why is ae the one to get that treatment? Ae had never done anything important in aer whole fucking life, ae didn't do anything, and all this praise should go to someone far more perfect than aer.

A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter

Biana is, unfortunately, very well known at Foxfire, and ae thought ae knew everyone else too. But ae's never seen this girl before, because ae would know if they had. It would be impossible for past Biana to have seen this girl and not remember her.

She has dark skin, even darker than Biana's, and long dreadlocks pulled into a knot and streaked with blue. Biana thought ae was used to the beauty of elvin girls- they were all quite pretty- but this girl, holy shit, ae was not prepared to see this girl. Her flat nose and full pink lips and turquoise eyes are all so beautiful. Biana's heart pounds and flutters around her chest like it wants to fly out and meet this girl, and aer breath catches.

Maruca Chebota, as ae later learns, is perfection.

But I don't dare utter a word 'Cause that would be absurd behaviour For little miss perfect

The pretty girl continues walking, seemingly unaware that she's thrown Biana's world wobbling out of orbit. Biana wants to call out to her, to yell, to make sure she doesn't walk away and make it so that amazing high, those butterflies and awe and something ae can't even describe, seems almost like it never happened.

But there are a lot of people in the hallways, and they're already staring at aer far more intensely than what ae would describe as comfortable, ready to judge each and every thing she does. Running to catch up with a girl because she's pretty? Not normal. Not normal for any elf, but especially not aer.

Biana silently watches her turn around a corner into a different hallway and out of aer line of sight, wishing ae could have been a little less perfect. Just for one second.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, I can't risk falling off my throne

Dear Maruca,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you lately. I'm sorry I can't talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, I promise.

It's just... you're dangerous. To my heart, my... my reputation. My throne.

That's not quite true. You're not dangerous to most people. You're just dangerous to me. Maybe you're fine, and I'm just too fragile. Too imperfect.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something I don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What if we did love each other? Bravely. Boldly. Unapologetically.

What if I pretended it wouldn't topple me off my throne; or pretended I didn't care?

No. That's stupid. I shouldn't sacrifice all that for love.

This isn't even love, anyway. I don't know what love is, but you aren't it.

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful.

Straight A's are most successful.

Straight forward is fastest.

Straight girls are the most perfect.

Little miss perfect That's me

And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight.

Ae doesn't get a choice.

One night my friend stayed over We laughed, and drank and ordered

And straight girls would like Maruca, sure, but not in the way Biana does. Not in that all consuming, heart wrenching, feels like ae's floating and falling and spiraling all at once way. Just in a... a friend way. A normal way. Because the two of them would make perfect friends, and anything other than that would end in fiery disaster.

So Biana makes friends with Maruca. Friends. They talk about their Universe class, and play splotching together in PE (Maruca wins; Biana gets distracted by her braids), and horribly bake mallowmelt together. It burns.

Maruca is... fun. It's fun to be friends with Maruca. Ae invites her over to Everglen for a sleepover- Della is overjoyed that Biana is finally making friends- and they have a fun time. Playing games and talking about useless shit and going to go bother Fitz and his friend Keefe.

It doesn't need to be anything different, Biana tells aerself, again and again. It's perfect like this. It doesn't need to change.

Something about her drew me in What? It's totally platonic

Biana can't stop staring at Maruca.

She feels like gravity, a star, and ae feels like a planet. They work perfectly together, orbiting around and around and around. If Maruca smiles, Biana's mind races to solve the mystery of how exactly that smile would taste on aer lips. It tastes good, ae thinks, though that's a stupid thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Maruca asks. "You have this goofy smile on your face, and you didn't hear the story I just told."

Biana turns bright red. Of course, ae can't say I was thinking about your lips on mine, because that would sound... weird. Ae has to keep it platonic, because they'll never be anything other than platonic, and it's not like ae wants that either. Ae swallows, and finally says "You. I'm really glad we're friends."

Platonic friends. Perfect, platonic friends.

That night was so exciting Her smirks were so enticing

"Yeah, I'm an awesome friend," Maruca says, flicking one of her intricate braids. Biana's eyes linger on it a little too long.

Ae clears aer throat and quickly deflects the conversation, still blushing. "You are. Do you want to go downstairs? It smells like something's baking."

"I would be honored to go eat some of your mom's amazing desserts, m'laedy," says Maruca, extending a hand with mock formality. Her gorgeous lips are pulled into a smirk. Biana's breath catches; ae wants to freeze this mental image for eternity. Cautiously, ae takes Maruca's hand in aers.

Skin touching. Holding hands.

It's stupid, it's a cliche, but it does feel like sparks shoot across aer skin as Maruca wraps her fingers in Biana's and starts walking downstairs. Aer stomach flips around excitedly.

Then ae crashes and burns. They are friends. Both girls. Friends don't get this excited about holding other friends' hands. Biana rips aer hand away and stuffs it in aer pocket. Maruca looks a bit offended, but Biana clenches aer jaw and looks down.

It hurts, but ae has to be perfect. No exceptions.

Hours speed by like seconds Then, what happens is iconic

Once they get over the awkwardness of that moment, they slip right back into the fun they were having before. Della's ripplefluffs disappear quickly, and the two of them go back into Biana's room to keep talking. Biana shows Maruca aer sketches- ae hasn't really shown them to anyone before, Alden thinks a Vacker should have a more noble profession than designing fashion- and Maruca tells Biana that ae should dye aer hair.

Alden is going to kill aer, but for once, ae isn't thinking of that. Della would probably say yes, but the two of them decide it would be more fun to sneak out, so they light leap to Slurps And Burps as quietly as they can, in silent giggles the whole time. Maruca decides to re-dye the blue streaks in her hair, and Biana opts for violet. They go back to Biana's room and laugh more. Biana wildly thinks this is the most fun ae's ever had.

It's perfect, even if ae isn't.

She takes a sip, I bite my lip She tells a joke, I nearly choke

Aer stomach is sore from laughing, and ae still can't stop looking at Maruca. She's so pretty, something ae could stare at forever if ae had the chance. The longer ae looks, the more ae notices little details, like the way her braids fall against her shoulders, and how she has barely visible freckles splattered across her nose, and how her hand brushes against Biana's every so often. It's warm, and smooth, and perfect.

Maruca is a masterpiece of a person.

Currently, Biana's fascination lies in how her lips curl around the straw of her lushberry juice. It’s disgusting and wrong and so thrilling as Biana imagines kissing those lips.

No. Stop thinking about that, Biana commands aerself, biting aer own lip to draw aer attention away.

"Biana? Bi? You listening?"

Ae turns red. "Yeah, sorry!"

"Alright, so I was reading about cowboys, except I read it as cowgoys because it was really late, which implies the existence of Jewish cows. So then the thought 'Bar Moo-tzvah' came into my head and I can't stop thinking about it."

Biana snorts; the joke is funny enough on its own, but the cute little smile on Maruca's face and the way her eyes light up nearly make aer choke.

“Shut the fuck up, brain, let me be the perfect Vacker,” ae muters, too quietly for Maruca to hear.

She braids my hair, I sit there Blacking out for the first time

Maruca says Biana's newly violet hair looks beautiful- ae needs to fake a coughing fit to keep from squealing- and asks to braid it. Biana nods, and lets aerself get lost in the feeling of fingers weaving through aer hair and brushing against aer head.

Aer eyes close- ae doesn't know when, but the room around aer disappears and all ae can feel is fingers and this all encompassing, overwhelming love ae seems to be drowning in, blacking out everything else.

Next thing I know, I lose control I finally kiss her but oh no

Without making any conscious decision, Biana spins around, cups Maruca's face, and gently presses aer lips against hers. Their flat noses touch, eyelashes flutter against each other's cheeks, lips kissing. Kissing. It's fast, and sweet, and wonderful. Biana feels aer world aligning perfectly, like this is the way everything was meant to be, and there are fireworks shooting across aer skies.

Biana smiles against Maruca's lips.

I see a face in my window Then my brain starts to go

Everything happens at once.

Maruca yelps and pushes aer back. The door swings open, revealing a shocked Fitz. Fireworks vanish, as quickly as they came.

Biana's world shatters.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, you can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

That kiss was amazing.

But it's too risky to do again.

I'm sorry.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something you don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What do I know about kissing? It's not like I have anything to compare it too, besides that one time I kissed Keefe on the cheek because I thought I was supposed to. No, because I wanted to. Because I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him and I didn't want to kiss you.

I don't know what kissing is supposed to feel like. Or what love is supposed to feel like.

It'll be better with a boy. It has to be better with a boy.

I'll know love eventually, and it won't be with you.

You shouldn't love me either.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na You can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you-

No.

I hate myself.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love You don't even know

Dear Maruca,

Or maybe I love you.

I don't know.

I probably don't.

Because I can't love another girl, right? I have to be misunderstanding what love means if I think I can love a girl.

I don't know love. But it can't be you.

Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier

Fitz tells her what to do- pretend like it never happened. That's what Alden told him when he kissed Keefe. Biana snorts humorlessly at that; two fucked up Vacker children. But ae follows his advice. Forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Never address it with Maruca; or speak to her again, really. Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Ae's been pretending aer whole life.

Life continues on, and ae pretends to be okay. Maruca makes friends with Stina, and Biana makes friends with the new girl. Sophie Foster. Sophie is nice enough, but she's not Maruca. She can't replace Maruca. No one can fucking replace Maruca, and no one should have to- ae just fucked up aer only chance with someone that wonderful. But ae pretends Sophie is enough, pretends ae's not heartbroken.

Pretends, pretends, pretends.

Pretends to be perfect.

You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there

Biana talks to Maruca once.

They both apologize in the same breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened-"

"That was weird, I'm sorry-"

"I don't like you, I was just confused."

"So was I, kissing girls was just something I thought I'd try, a bit of a phase."

"No, totally, it's not like I really like girls or anything."

"Nah, that'd be weird."

They never speak again. There's nothing between them. Biana tries to believe what Maruca told aer. Ae doesn't.

“You're just confused,” ae repeats to aerself. “You're still perfect.”

It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect

Dear Maruca,

Maybe someone else can love you. Someone who doesn't have to be little miss perfect.

#shai's writing #shai types things #kotlc #biana vacker #bianuca #fuck alden #little miss perfect

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anambermusicbox · 3 years

Text

September 29 Day Countdown (27/29): 2021/01/15 Interview with iFeng Entertainment 凤凰网《非常道》

(11:20) Interviewer asks whether he’s more affected by hurtful words or kind words; Zhou Shen then goes on to talk about his relationship with his fans:

ZS: After all, I’ve now debuted for 6 years now- (*more subdued*) my skin has gotten thicker. Before, hurtful words had a very big impact on me. I’d see these words and think (*gasps*) What did I do wrong? Why do they have to say this about me? Do I have to change something? If I do this differently would they not say this about me?

But later I realized, no (*waves his hand dismissively*) To them, the people that don’t like you, as long as you exist, they won’t like you. So before, I would be affected a lot more by hurtful words, but now its about 51% and 49%, with that 51% being the hurtful words. But I’m working on flipping the percentages. This way, I think, I’m also doing right by the people who support me.

Interviewer: I think there are actually a lot of people who like you. (*ZS bows and thanks her awkwardly*) The other day, I was online and saw your fans professing their love, fussing over you. (*ZS laughs*)

ZS: Oh that’s right, because- a few days ago, I was doing a performance and- I don’t know if this is just what this fan says to singers they like, but they said (*cups hands around mouth*) (*extremely high pitched shout*) “Rest for a bit!! You’re tiring!!! Yourself!!! Out!!!!” (*laughs*) (T/N: It was after he filmed the winter-themed Happy Camp with the Onmyoji movie cast; there’s a video of the exact moment—super hilarious, I’ll put the link in the notes.) [...] I want to tell them, I’m doing fine here, don’t worry—I can take care of myself.

Interviewer: I think the way they talk to you is quite 没大没小 (referring someone to being disrespectful and talking to someone their senior the same way they talk to their peers; Zhou Shen looks quite shocked at her choice of words) They really treat you like (ZS, interjecting: a friend) someone they can throw jokes at, a kind of idol that is very close to them. How do you view the relationship between you and your fans?

ZS: Oh, I really don’t know. To be honest, I really don’t know. [...] Even now, sometimes I think they’re quite stupid. I say this because, sometimes, even if it’s just to see me sing one or two songs, they’ll stand outside the venue waiting for four to five hours on a harsh winter day. I feel really bad for them. But it’s like, to them this is one way they feel that they can give me strength, and I can’t tell them not to, because that would hurt them even more.

So sometimes I look at them and think, oh look at this stupid group of people, so idiotically supporting me. This kind of stupidity is really quite touching. I want to put forth my best effort to reciprocate what they do.

(14:55) Interviewer: “Do you have moments where you feel pretty rotten?”

ZS: Oh, too many. (Interviewer: Tell me about it, from the past to the present) Wow. Okay then we have to delay the program recording scheduled next (*laughs*) there’s a LOT. I mean, since my childhood, my classmates unintentionally- it was really unintentional, they didn’t have the maturity to know that their words would be hurtful. But to me, they were very hurtful. But you can’t blame them for it, because they didn’t understand anything at the time. (T/N: no you can totally blame them for it, you’re just a nice person shenshen)

And more recently, as an artist, I had my own “cold bench period.” I felt like, I was working so hard but no one was willing to listen to me sing. Not only that, I felt I didn’t have a way to be heard. Because there was a period of time when I didn’t really have any work and, wah, everyday I felt so purposeless; I was just a rain cloud, I was so discouraged (*laughs*)

Interviewer: What about now, now that you’re so busy?

ZS: If I’m tired, I’ll be happy because I’m happy that there are stages that *want* me to sing on them. [...] I worked so hard to stay in this profession because I wanted to be heard by others, and now that this day has finally come, with so many stages I can sing on, why wouldn’t I go?

(16:40) Talks about how he doesn’t mind labels, because that how someone remembers you; ZS: “I saw this one comment I really liked, this person was saying they always thought there were two Zhou Shen’s—a male one who was funny on variety shows, and a female one that sang deep emotional songs—until one day they watched a show and realized, what?? It’s one Zhou Shen???”

(18:30) Interviewer: As I’m conversing with you, I can feel very relaxed, very happy—that’s the feeling you give people. (*ZS bows and quietly thanks her*) But I know from looking at your past that your childhood was quite lonely. What makes you be able to still be so warm—that is, to go and bring others... happiness.

ZS: I think it’s because I’m really fortunate. Because... (*looks up in thought*) I... I grew up in a very remote mountainous village, but I’m really fortunate to have so many opportunities—coming into the city, being able to learn and come in contact with all the culture I love, and later even being about to devote myself to a career I love. I feel very fortunate.

And I know that, when you feel extremely alone, if you suddenly feel something like a beam of warmth, the joy or the kind of hope that can bring—when you receive it, you’re so happy. I think, I want to do that, if there’s a possibility I could have the honour to do that for someone else. I think it’s so important.

(21:00) Talks about his parents:

ZS: Even now, my mom and dad are still wanting to- still are running their small business that they love; I think it’s very laborious. I keep telling them, you both are getting older, you should take advantage of your age and go relax, enjoy yourselves. They say, no, we want to take some burden off of you, to which I’m like eh? (*leans over and covers mouth to whisper*) Mom you’re losing money every year. *laughs*

Especially with the pandemic, their lifestyles have had the most obvious impact. Because they’re not like the younger generation that can continue doing things online. All they’ve known is getting up early to open their storefront, staying there until it’s time to close at nightfall.

Interviewer: (21:55) Your parents, before they didn’t support you going into music. What about now?

ZS: They think it’s great now. But they worry because they feel they have no way to help me in this career. [...] They once said- I asked them something like this one day, how they want to help me now. They said they can give me their storefront. I told them, then don’t help me (*laughs*) Because I’ve used to help them watch the store all the time growing up! I used to be doing my homework at their storefront. Ever since I was little, I’ve always really disliked doing business. So I felt like, oh mom dad, no.

I’m really lucky. Even though my mom and dad don’t have very high education—it’s really quite low to be honest—they still chose to understand me. I’m very grateful to them.

(1:45) Interviewer asks what his first job was:

ZS: After I graduated from high school, my first job was selling phones. (Interviewer: Were you standing all day?) Yup, standing. [...] (Interviewer: So you have experience in the workplace?) Well, to be honest, I didn’t converse with people much in my so-called workplace—I have a very introverted personality; I’m not too fond of or good at talking to people.

Interviewer: Would someone who doesn’t like to talk to people be able to convince people to buy phones?

ZS: That’s why I didn’t sell any. (*bends over laughing*) You really had to say it so directly. (*laughs*) Zhuang-laoshi, you’re an accurate judge of people! (*gives her two thumbs up*) (*Interviewer laughs*)

(3:30) Interviewer tries asking him a question related to emotional intelligence (”qing shang”, 情商) but gets her words mixed up and says romance instead (”qing chang”, 情场); ZS: “Well, if we’re talking about romance, that’s an area I don’t have much experience in (*gets up and pretends to leave*) (Interviewer, laughing: To be honest, that’s the thing I really want to ask about.) Zhuang-laoshi, I really don’t have any experience with romance (*laughs*)

Interviewer: Okay what I was going to ask is, do you think EQ is important in the workplace?

ZS: Super important! For one thing, every workplace involves getting along with people, and part of the way you interact with people depends on your EQ.

Interviewer: But some people say that part of EQ is a skill, a means to an end—would it come off as insincere to others?

ZS: ?? (*blinks*) Can you give me an example?

Interviewer: Like for example, if I compliment you like “oh you’re such a great person (*half-hearted clapping*)” when I don’t truly mean it.

ZS: Oh that was so insincere (*makes faces*) (*Interviewer laughs*) I’m starting to question myself (*laughs*) I don’t think that’s a problem for me though. That’s why you shouldn’t force compliments. I think it’s important to be genuine with what you say—then people won’t think you’re being fake. If people think you’re being fake, that in itself already isn’t a display of good EQ. Be sincere, but try your hardest not to hurt others.

Interviewer: I want to ask another question-

ZS: Is it about romance? (*laughs*)

Interviewer, joking: We’ll talk about romance in a moment.

ZS: no nO NO LET’S NOT DO THAT (*laughs*)

(6:10) About how Zhou Shen didn’t expect to get along so well with everyone else in “An Exciting Offer”《令人心动的offer》:

ZS: On the first episode, every time I put in my own two cents, I had to work myself up just to speak up. My heart rate was through the roof, it was like- (*takes a deep breath*) (*raises hand*) “Laoshi? (*exaggerated suppressed panic*) Can I aSK a quESTION? (*pretends to look back and forth between the others*) (*Interviewer giggles*) I think this is just like, you see, I believe in the workplace, people who are have this personality-” How was I supposed to converse like this? (*laughs*)

So that was how I was for the first two episodes, but now in the later episodes, I got used to just casually interjecting whenever I felt like it. It was quite wonderful. The other teachers were very approachable, very friendly—it felt like, something you imagined before, but when you really are in such a group, it was like, oh this kind of goodness is something that actually exists. You feel very fortunate, very happy.

(8:50) Interviewer asks ZS if he ever lacks confidence; ZS replies that, even now, he’s not very confident:

ZS: Every time I’m on stage I get extremely extremely nervous. I’ll fear that, I won’t live up to the expectations of those who want to listen to me. But I’m slowly learning to- to get along with, to come to terms with this nervousness.

Interviewer: Then this year, you would’ve been so nervous all the time. Have you counted how many performances you had just this year?

ZS: I haven’t counted, but Shengmi, they compiled them all together and, excluding the ones that aren’t aired, there were over a hundred. Every single one of them, I’m behind the scenes like- (*makes loud deep-breathing-for-anxiety-reduction noises*) But I can’t let people see that so- (*dissolves into laughter*)

#zhou shen #周深 #my translations #mine #zs 29 #why is day 27 just as long as day 26 >.>#ngl these interviews are near the end of the countdown mostly bc i kept putting off translating them LMAO #when its so good that there's so many highlights but also that means it takes hours to translate :')#day 28 is gonna be pretty long too smh #i kinda put the questions more related to the variety show at the end but also god he's so relatable HAHAHA #rip 2020 shenshen he was just a ball of anxiety all the time asdfAFSDFASD #but the whole first section before the 'read more' is so :'))#i love him so much

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monkberries · 3 years

Note

So here goes: Personally I find Paul to be hot with a beard. But it annoys me because there’s always some Paul stan who’s like “he was super depressed during that time you know” anytime someone says how hot he looks with a beard. Like first of all, I don’t think we should go around diagnosing people and assuming how he felt 24/7 just based on a couple of quotes when we don’t know him, and second of all I was just saying he looks good. Also idk why Paul stans want to pretend like Paul is STILL a victim when he’s definitely not. He’s a super successful billionaire musician. He’s fine.

I'm going to assume all four of these were from the same anon; I received another along these same lines that seems to be from someone else:

OKAY. There's a lot here.

As I've said before, I think the concept you are both talking about - that Paul is the favourite, that people will attack you if you criticize him, that people are vilifying John more now - is true, but is also a matter of perspective. I think sometimes we perceive the whole fandom as just the people we're surrounded by; that can be true in smaller fandoms, like for obscure shows or whatever, but for the Beatles, the fandom is so much bigger and more spread out across generations, social media platforms, and works of literature than almost any other fandom. There are literally thousands upon thousands of books either about or tangentially about the Beatles; there are pockets on every platform from tumblr to twitter to podcasts to instagram to facebook etc., and it branches off even more niche within those to like, facebook groups specifically for podcasts about the Beatles, or discord servers, or livejournal threads, or music forums, or fics on ao3. There are fansites with thoughtful speculative articles like heydullblog and blogs specifically reviewing Beatle books like beatlebioreview and sites cataloging every bit of minutiae like the Beatles Bible, all with their own flavor of comment sections. And not only that, the Beatles fandom spans generations and cultures in a way that almost nothing else ever has or ever will.

And this is not even going into the shifting narratives that have been in play over the years surrounding Paul specifically, and the huge, huge difference between the perceptions of him by the authors and the Counterculture People, the perceptions of him by regular ass Wings fans who have only idly flipped through Rolling Stone while waiting in line at the local bodega, and the perceptions of him by everyone in between, who may or may not have been unconsciously influenced by the wider narratives about him.

All that is to make the case that the fandom that you are experiencing on tumblr/twitter is an extremely small fraction of The Fandom at large. For every Paul stan on twitter that yells at people for not believing that Paul literally invented music, there is a John stan in a facebook group going on about John's supposedly tireless peace efforts. For every nuanced, well sourced post on amoralto's blog, there is someone in the Beatles Bible comment section saying that John and Paul hated each other. For every fan who's read the major Beatles bios with a critical eye towards bias, there are plenty more fans who just absorbed them as straight fact. This is not to say that your experiences are not real or valid! They absolutely are! What I am saying is that there are infinite permutations of infinite Beatles fandoms out there, and the people you see who insist that Paul is still treated worse than John, I would imagine, are occupying various permutations of the fandom where that is more true, alongside the one they share with you. It's not for me to say whether the Paul or John people have the upper hand on the whole - truly, I don't think anyone has enough perspective on the whole fandom to make any judgment on that, no matter what general Grand Pronouncements anyone may make about The Fandom.

As I've said before, any overly defensive "stan" behavior, whether it's for John or Paul or George or anyone, is exhausting to me, so I definitely understand where you're coming from re: him being supposedly underrated. He is literally one of the most successful musicians of all time; as of the beginning of this year, he is worth 1.2 billion dollars; and, thanks to his own efforts and the efforts of quite a few fans and writers out there over the decades, he now enjoys an incredibly positive "granddude" reputation. There are ways in which it can be exasperating to read yet another indignant refutation of music reviews for RAM that came out fifty years ago, when his last three albums have hit the top 3 in the charts in both the US and the UK and have gotten great reviews. I have seen people wonder, honestly wonder, how much more money Paul could have made, how much more respected he could have been, if the rock press had been inclined to give RAM good reviews. When I see that, it does start to feel like fans of Paul, at least the defensive ones in the fandom permutations I occupy, are arguing with the author photo of Philip Norman in the book jacket for Shout!. It's not that I think those arguments and discussions are not worth having; I do think they're worth having because I believe that the only way we can continue to grow is if we grapple with the mistakes made in the past. But there is a strange kind of disconnect that happens when you read about someone indignantly defending Wild Life as though the members of Wings are currently, actively having eggs and rotten fruit thrown at them, and then you remember that Paul is currently, and has been for many years now, one of the richest men in the entire world.

As for the misogyny thing, I'll copy and paste a quote from Erin Weber which may explain a little better than I can:

"Where it starts entering into serious discussion for me is when you have professional grown men (Schaffner would be the most glaring example of this, but not the only one) repeatedly using the term “pretty” or “pretty-faced” to refer to another grown man. (Norman does the same). Schaffner doesn’t only do that once or twice, he uses one of those exact words at least fifteen times in his references to McCartney. “Pretty-boy” is also a term that at least one journalist has used to describe Paul, and that’s not a stealth insult: that’s an overt one. (My husband, who hates the Yankees, routinely used the term “pretty-boy” to insult Alex Rodriguez. And it wasn’t meant as a compliment).

My reaction to this is based both on studies that I’m aware of (I’d have to hunt them up, but I’ve seen them referenced before) which argue that the use of feminized language can be a method of stealth insult/diminishment when used by men to describe other men, and my own personal experience. It is difficult to see a situation where a grown man using the term “pretty” or any variation of the word “pretty” to describe another grown man means it as a compliment. Even if its purely meant as a descriptive term, it is a descriptive term that is weighted with significant meaning and is feminizing. And given the rock press’s obsession with masculinity and its insistence, as noted in other studies, of using masculine terms to portray a song as good and feminizing terms to describe them as weak or inferior, I don’t think its a coincidence that a rock press that knew well the power of masculine and feminine language commonly used feminized language, particularly in the 1970s and 80s, to describe McCartney."

I personally see this more as pseudo-homophobic than pseudo-misogynistic (like, when I see a man called "pretty" by another man in an insulting way, I immediately think "oh, that author wanted to say a gay slur but he's too Professional"), but the two things can get muddled together, I suppose.

Anyway, actionable items:

Diversify Your Fan Experience. More perspectives can really help gain a fuller understanding of not just the fandom but the Beatles themselves. Don't be afraid to be wrong, and don't be afraid to be right; always be open to learning new things and hearing new insights.

If All Else Fails, Block 'Em.

#macca #anonymous #i guess this is #hot take tuesday #?#even though its thursday night #about the blogger #for reference

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strange-lace · 3 years

Text

Concert State of Consciousness

IT’S FINALLY DONE! I HAVE NOW MADE A FANFIC FOR THIS ROLESWAP AU! I didn’t expect this damn thing to get this long but here I am, once again! Kind of happy with how everyone’s characterized, though Demon Kid ended up a bit more sinister than I intended. I definitely had fun writing the dynamic between Mei and Green though.

Hope y’all like it!

To say the city was abuzz with excitement would be an understatement.

For the past couple of months, the name DJ Horns has been spoken with increasing interest as his music suddenly began to be played on the radio constantly. And most people wouldn’t deny that it was good, electronic yet incredibly varied depending on the song. But what interested people the most about the musician was how mysterious he was, active on social media and yet nobody knew his face and only the barest of personal details. Even his voice was a matter of debate with him using a voice synthesizer even when talking normally on his social media.

It was the perfect storm to allow DJ Horns fanbase to start from nothing to practically explode over time.

And the same musician had just announced that he would be doing a live concert right at the heart of the city, even playing “secret tracks” that he had yet to let anyone hear until now.

People were practically fighting to get themselves tickets, Mei herself included that chaos. She had been swept up in the excitement of DJ horns since the very beginning and was willing to do whatever she had to get tickets for her and Green to that concert.

Leading her to the unfortunate situation she was in now. Kicked out of the ticket venue and by the time the ban would be lifted, she knew all the concert tickets would be sold out. Oh and Green had to bail her out from getting in trouble with the security guys.

“I don’t get what the big deal was, everyone was fighting dirty to get first pick at those tickets!” Even with his shades, she could tell that Green was rolling his eyes at her.

“Oh gee, I don’t know Mei. Maybe it’s because you nearly tore a guy’s hair out!”

“That’s what he gets for trying to say I was only a fan to get the attention of other guys! Now I’m gonna miss the concert of a lifetime,” Mei groaned, a pout on her lips. Green’s scowl of disappointment softened as they walked into Pigsy’s Noodles, starting to feel bad. It’s not like the guy wasn’t being a jerk after all.

“I suppose I could see about pulling some strings to get us some decent seats, if it means that much-” He was cut off by a crushing hug from Mei, who easily lifted Green off of his feet and began to twirl them both around in sheer jubilation.

“You’d do that for me?! Thank you so much Green, you’re the absolute best!”

“Yes, yes, your appreciation is very evident now please put me down before you crush my rib cage,” he wheezed, letting in a deep gulp of air once he was freed. Mei appeared sheepish at the unintentional show of strength. “As I was saying, there’s probably a couple scalpers I could cough two tickets out of without much trouble.”

“I still question how you have the money to just do stuff like that casually, make hundreds of gadgets, and build our secret base.”

“You have your mysterious ways and I have mine Mei.” Before Mei could question further, Pigsy voice interrupted them both, looking a fair bit of a mess.

“There you are kid, we got a mountain of orders for you to deliver! Oh, and this came for you and Green in mail while you were gone, no return address though weirdly enough,” he said, shoving a load of noodle orders in Mei’s arms alongside two unmarked envelopes: one orange and the other green. The sound of something crashing in the kitchen tore Pigsy’s attention away, causing him to let out a string of curses as he went back into what sounded like chaos.

Green took the envelopes off Mei’s hands while she struggled with balancing all the orders in her arms, studying them with interest. Upon closer inspection, each envelope simply had “To My Heroes” scrawled on the front in elegant writing and sealed with a black wax seal on the back. He found himself impressed at all the sheer amount of effort put in.

“Fancy,” he commented before gently opening the green envelope. His eyes widened at what he found inside. “Looks like I won’t need to pay any scalpers for tickets.”

“Wait what do you mean? Gimme that!” Mei said, putting the orders down on the table to snatch the orange envelope and tear into it with desperate ferocity. There were practically stars once she took in what was inside: front row tickets to the DJ Horns concert and even VIP passes.

The windows of the restaurant rattled the slightest bit as the sheer force of her screams of joy.

Green didn’t even flinch as his ears were assaulted, used to this level of volume, while unfortunate bystanders winced in pain or jumped in surprise. He found a handwritten behind the ticket in his own envelope and curiosity getting the better of him, began to read it.

“As a token of thanks for always keeping this city safe, here’s free front row tickets on me! Can’t wait to see you both tonight in front of the crowd! ♡♡♡

- DJ Horns”

“How… suspiciously generous of him,” Green drawled, an eyebrow raised at such a note.

“What’s suspicious about it? We do save the city a lot and somebody’s just showing their appreciation for it! I see no problem with it,” Mei argued, pausing in her celebrations, which involved her doing a handstand on one of the stools and didn’t even seem bothered holding the position.

“Mei, this implies that he hand delivered these here without anybody noticing. Why go through all that effort to be sneaky?” It just didn’t sit right in the pit of his stomach, something smelled rotten about this to him.

“Because he’s a mega famous celebrity, he’s probably worried that making a big deal out of us giving these could make people upset or something.” It made sense to Mei, who wouldn’t free tickets from their favorite music artist and be upset that someone else was given that opportunity? She did a small flip from the stool to land next to Green, wrapping her arm around his shoulders until they were close enough that their cheeks were squished together. Despite the closeness, Green looked more uncomfortable about being tugged down to Mei’s height than anything else. That and how blinding her smile was.

“C’mon Green, I get the skepticism but it’s just a concert. One night where we can be normal teens enjoying the fruits of our labor in protecting this place, what’s so bad about that? Plus, it’ll be fun! So how about it?” Mei said, almost sounding desperate. Green remained silent for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, only giving her a tired smile as he returned the one armed hug.

“Oh alright, you win. I suppose a break sounds nice right about now considering how things went with Demon Kid last time. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” He conceded, willing to let his suspicion aside for a night of just not having to worry about anything but having a good time and enjoying music. Especially after yesterday, Green was still amazed that the demon managed to make something like perfume into a weapon of mass annoyance.

“That’s the spirit! This is gonna be the night of our lives!”

At least that’s what she thought, until her trinkets were literally snatched out of her hands.

“After you finish your deliveries for the night kid,” Pigsy interrupted, looking a lot more put together now that whatever disaster that had been happening in the kitchen was under control. Excluding the number of stains on his apron that weren’t there before of course. It took Mei a moment to process that her precious tickets weren’t in her hands and she was quick to bring out the puppy dog eyes.

“But- but Pigsy-” Pigsy showed no sign of giving in, having years to build a resistance to all of Mei’s tricks.

“I’m sorry Mei, but we’re way too swamped to let you run off with no one to do all these deliveries. Once you have all the deliveries done, you can have these back. But only after, so you better get started,” he stated, leaving no room for argument. And even if Mei tried, the smell of something burning had Pigsy back in the kitchen just like that with even more fervent curses, this time with her tickets tucked into the pockets of his apron.

Mei let out a groan and smacked her forehead against the countertop in despair. Green merely patted her back in sympathy to her plight.

“There’s no way I’m gonna make all those deliveries and not miss like half of the concert! Unless…”

Oh no, he recognized that look in her eyes anywhere.

“Mei, no. I know exactly what you’re thinking and I’m telling you right now, no. No music is worth facing Pigsy’s wrath if he finds out you skipped out on work for a concert. Which is what exactly will happen, he always finds out,” Green warned her, even taking off his sunglasses to look her dead in the eyes to get his point across. Mei winced at that, remembering what had happened last time she tried to skimp on work.

The power of Pigsy’s “I’m not mad, just disappointed” is something even DBK should fear.

“Look, I’ll record whatever you miss if I don’t see you by the time it starts. Might not be the same but it’s better than nothing.” That offer seemed to perk Mei up from her bout of disappointment, hopeful eyes peeking through her thick hair bangs.

“Promise?”

“I promise. But if you don’t want to miss the whole thing, you’d better do what Pigsy says and get started on the deliveries. Especially since I think that pile has grown since we got here,” Green said, pointing to the small mountain of orders which indeed had gotten bigger since passed off to her. This time, he was more prepared for the bone crushing embrace which came his way and thankfully had his arms free enough to return it.

“Thanks Green, you’re the best! Hopefully I’ll see you there before it all starts!” And just like that, Mei was off like a whirlwind with all the noodle orders in her arms. She excitedly loaded them into the shop’s delivery cart and drove off with a strong stomp in the gas pedal, the cart’s tires squealing in distress before driving off.

With a weary sigh, Green took his leave as well though he couldn’t stop looking at the ticket and note in his hands.

Even with Mei’s assurances, something about the situation still did not sit right with him.

“For once, please let me be wrong,” Green whispered to himself, not noticing a suspiciously familiar monkey-shaped marionette creature eagerly watching him from the rooftops above. On the other side of the puppet’s eyes, her creator couldn’t help the manic grin off of his face as the pieces started to fall into place for his plan.

Green had to admit that he was expecting this many people packed into the area when he rolled up to the concert gates on his motorcycle, Mei still nowhere in sight. Though he certainly made sure to update him on how the deliveries were going.

A familiar ding sound on his phone made him pause, giving an exasperated smile at seeing another text from Mei.

“WHY ARE SO MANY PEOPLE ORDERING NOODLES TONIGHT??? got done w 3/4 of the orders, if i hurry i should be there before opening act’s done. if anybody tries to steal my seat, i give you permission to use lethal force. don’t let me down! <3”

“Maybe if you didn’t send me so many texts, you’d be getting the deliveries done faster Mei,” Green mumbled to himself fondly as he climbed off his bike, blissfully unaware of the stares being sent his way. As usual, his hair was a mess of black and pale green spikes as he pulled off his helmet and he let out a soft huff, attempting to put order to the mane that was his hair as he made his way inside.

Green let out a low whistle, impressed as he walked further in to discover the place was decorated head to toe with fluorescent neon lights, state of the art music equipment, and a giant disco ball hanging from the ceiling which added another layer of glitz. It was almost disorientating, the onslaught of neon colors, lights, and music from all sides but in a way that was also exhilarating. The harsh glow of red, orange, and purple was a bit much for Green but at the same time it filled him with a sense of giddiness that made him begin to understand Mei’s desperation to be here.

His heart did a slight leap of excitement once he found his seat. It was one thing to read he had a front row seat and another thing entirely to see how close he was to the stage. And a completely separate thing to see a note on the seat, scrawled with a familiar extravagant writing which welcomed him and Mei with hopes that they would enjoy the show.

All too soon, all the lights went out and Green could feel his breath pause before they returned with full force alongside familiar music which seemed to make the entire room pulsate with its vibrations. Multiple spotlights shined on the stage and the crowd went wild with cheering as DJ Horns finally showed, looking just as bombastic as his set up.

He wore an ornate metallic helmet decorated with large horns that protruded from the forehead which shined a rainbow of colors under the neon lights. A dark fur lined coat was draped over his shoulders with a matching suit underneath and metal lined gloves on his hands. Overall, he looked like quite a character to Green though there was niggling in the back of his head that this should be someone that he could recognize. The grip on the arms of his seat tightened.

His eyes took in the still empty seat to his right and he began to gnaw his lip in worry.

“Where are you Mei?” Green asked himself before the synthesized voice of DJ Horns interrupted his thoughts.

“What is up everybody? You all ready for the show of a lifetime?!” A loud cacophonous roar of cheers answered him, which he soaked in without a hint of shame in his posture. “That’s what I like to hear! And we have some very special guests tonight right in the front row, the Monkie Kid herself and her partner, the Green Dragon!”

Green couldn’t help the flinch when a spotlight suddenly shined down on him, leaving him feeling exposed to hundreds upon thousands of eyes which zeroed in on him the vacant seat next to him. Yet he still forced on a smile which was more teeth than anything else, not quite appreciating being put on the spot like this. The musician’s shoulders seemed to tense in disappointment once he also noticed being down one of his special guests, yet he was quick to shake it off.

“Seems it’s more like one special guest, but no matter! We’re still going to make this a night that the city itself won’t ever forget! The first and unfortunately, only, live concert by the one and only DJ Horns!” He was met with gasps of surprise and even a couple cries of despair at this bombshell. “I know, I know! But there’s a reason for this, my dear fans. Because after tonight, you’ll all know the man behind the mask and I’m sure you’ve all been dying to know who it is. Am right?!” DJ Horns teased, hands reaching for his helmet.

The manic energy of the entire building seemed to escalate to almost out of control levels at that announcement, people scrambling for their phones to get the chance of capturing his face before anyone else. Green would have been among them if that uneasy feeling hadn’t begun to grow into full on paranoia, as if his very being could sense that the other shoe was about to drop. He was so tense that Green felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong,” he chanted to himself, his grip tightening to an unbearable degree as DJ Horns finally pulled off his helmet.

Unfortunately for him and everyone else, he wasn’t wrong.

His heart practically stopped as his eyes were welcomed by an unfortunately familiar face: spiked brown hair held up by a golden circlet styled like horns, dark eyes framed in orange and red pigment, and a fanged grin that promised nothing but trouble.

Demon Kid.

And his grin only became larger once he took in the shocked silence, particularly Green’s horror ridden face. He looked extremely pleased with himself as he took advantage of everyone struggling to process what was going on to prepare for the final phase of his plan.

And would it be a sweet victory for him.

“Oh, I’m going to treasure that look on your face for the rest of my life, Dragon Boy. It’s certainly a shame that the Noodle Girl couldn’t join in on the party but, eh, she’ll come eventually.” Green had finally overcome his horror, sword in his hands and making a mad dash towards Demon Kid on the stage. Yet the demon remained unaffected as he put on the finishing touches. “Because by the time I’m done, everyone in this whole city will be dancing for my king like my puppets. Starting with all you!”

And with that, Demon Kid put the volume at max and blasted the entire building with his music. The sheer force of the sound sent Green flying back, crashing into now abandoned seats as people attempted to escape. However, to their horror, all the doors were locked and barricaded. Leaving them trapped and at the mercy of the music assaulting their ears from all sides and one by one, civilians fell to the floor as they tried their hardest to muffle the noise. Yet as if a sentient force, the melody managed to slither its way in and overwhelmed people’s senses like a tidal wave with one simple but overpowering command.

And that command was to obey.

Green climbed to his feet in a daze, struggling to focus with the sheer volume and the strange whispering that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere. And already Green could feel his mental walls crumbling, he wasn’t going to last long before he succumbed to the strange power.

Mei.

He had to warn Mei.

He scrambled for his phone, barely able to take him the most recent message from Mei stating she was heading back to get her ticket back from Pigsy. Clumsy fingers fumbled to type out a warning and relief flooded his nerves once the message was sent.

And just in time as Green found himself being dogpiled by multiple people, their eyes glowing a hollow and ominous red. He struggled yet the mental strain of fighting to keep control left him weak and vulnerable, sword just out of his reach. Impish chuckling invaded his ears and before he knew it, Demon Kid was right there. And while the demon typically only had a couple inches on Green, now he downright loomed over him and radiating smugness.

“Still fighting huh Dragon Boy? Almost impressive! But there’s no point in fighting anymore, the spell will wear you down one way or another. So save your energy, you’ll need it when you and Noodle Girl help me conquer this city in the name of my king. It’ll be awesome, just you wait!” The childlike giddiness would almost be endearing if Green wasn’t fighting a mental battle that he had no chance in winning, not against this kind of magic.

“Mei’ll stop you, she always does,” he grit out, eyes already taking on a faint red glow.

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure of that, after all I’d like to see her fight against her best friend when he’s under my control. But that’s not for you to worry about. Now, give in Dragon Boy,” Demon Kid commanded and like that, Green found himself being pulled under into a strange haze, only able to think of obeying the commands of his puppetmaster. The demon couldn’t help the joyous laugh as he watched Green’s eyes become red much like the rest of his little army.

Mei had been driving like a madwoman towards the concert the moment she read Green’s text.

“it’s demon kid using spell to hypnotize people don’t have time can already feel control slipping need to destroy his set up and stop the music before he gets city”

“I swear if he’s hurt Green, I will make him wish he stuck with making music,” she hissed to herself before letting out a growl at another red light slowing her down. “To hell with this.” Mei summoned the staff, slamming one end against the street and keeping a tight grip as the staff extended, sending her and the cart sailing above the streets below.

Mei barely flinched at the rough landing in front of the building, only feeling a flash of guilt at the state of the cart. She could pay Pigsy back for the damages later. Staff held tight in her grip and headphones on to buy herself time, Mei was ready for anything. And upon taking notice that all the doors appeared to be either locked or blocked, she did the next best thing to get inside.

Pole vault and smash her way through a window, miraculously not cutting herself on the glass.

She tumbled forward upon landing and took in the scene before her.

Her headphones certainly didn’t stop her from feeling the bass practically rock the foundation of the place yet what Mei found more worrisome were the people. Instead of rushing to attack her, they were all dancing to the beat of the song and looked almost perfectly normal. Except they were all too in sync and choreographed, as if Mei found herself in a music video than anything else. A shiver traveled down her spine as they all seemed to be watching her yet gave her a wide berth to catch sight of the stage.

Her blood boiled at the sight of Demon Kid, perched at his station but wiggling about showing he was barely able to sit still in anticipation.

“There you are, you had me waiting forever for you to get here!” He exclaimed, almost happy to see Mei before he caught himself and schooled his expression back to a businesslike indifference. “Not that it matters, you’ll be joining the Dragon Boy soon enough and we can start taking over this city!”

“Not while I have these headphones on, asshole!” Mei screamed over the music before rushing towards the stage, ready to smash Demon Kid’s equipment to pieces. It was only out of a vague sense of danger which flared in the back of her head and dodging at the right time that she managed to evade being skewered in the side by a sword.

The sight of Green, eyes lifeless red and moving around as if a stiff marionette being led around on strings, was definitely one that Mei was going to see in her nightmares for who knows how long.

Leaping to dodge another swipe of Green’s sword, Demon Kid’s cackle seemed to echo in sync with the music.

“Well then we’ll just have to rip those headphones off your pretty head ourselves! Minions, if you please!” Following the demon’s command, the hypnotized civilians stopped their dancing and attacked.

And Mei soon found herself swarmed and being attacked on all sides. It soon became more of a deadly game of tag, keeping herself out of the reach of her countless pursuers and evading Green’s relentless attacks. She was running out of time and space, she needed to think of a plan.

Fast.

Her eyes soon caught sight of the stage lighting above Demon Kid’s set and it was as if a lightbulb went off in her head.

It was risky and she only had one shot.

But Mei was always one for risk.

With a quick change in direction, Mei dashed towards the center of the swarm and just before she was pulled in, she took aim and threw the staff towards the stage lights. She could only be left to hope that she didn’t miss as a hand grabbed her ankle, only to be face to face with Green. His blank face now alight with a victorious grin before they were left tumbling along the floor in a desperate bid to grab one another.

Mei grunted as she found herself pinned down by Green, the neon lights causing his sword to gleam with menace as he held the tip to her throat. His other hand ripped off her headphones without mercy and her own ears were overwhelmed by the music.

“C’mon staff, don’t let me down,” she said, doing her best to fight as the spell soon attempted to creep its way in her head too.

“Well done, my dear puppet,” Demon Kid congratulated Green, pride practically emanating from his being. “Any last words, Noodle Girl?” His victory was practically guaranteed now and he couldn’t wait to see the look on his king’s face.

Which only made the demon confused at the sight of Mei’s smirk, her eyes focused upwards.

“Yeah. Might want to look above.”

“What?” Demon Kid did so and his heart stuttered at the sight of the spinning staff pinballing across the walls before colliding with the heavy duty wires which held the stage lights.

And cut through them without ease.

Without any suspension, the stage light rig surrendered to the forces of gravity. Demon Kid hurriedly dived off the stage to save himself, narrowly missed being squished by the rig. Unfortunately, his music equipment was not granted the same luck and was crushed in a shower of sparks, cutting off the music.

Blissful silence took over the area and Mei let out a sigh of relief as the sensation of something prying at her mind vanished like mist. And she couldn’t help a smile as the red vanished from Green’s eyes, signifying the end of Demon Kid’s control on him. He let out a groan, crawling back to consciousness as if waking up from the world’s worst nap, before realizing where he was.

“Mei? What happened? Are you okay?” Green was quick to get off Mei and help her back to her feet. She simply gave him a hug, content to see him safe and sound now. He accepted the hug without complaint, feeling less like he was struggling to gather his ability for free will again after having it ripped away. They were quick to break away as flames licked at their backs and they were faced with Demon Kid, his hair now flames as he took in his now ruined DJ equipment.

The duo took fighting stances, only for the demon to take a deep breath and have his hair to return to normal.

“Well, looks like you both got me beat this time. Here I thought I had it all in the bag but then you pulled that off-the-wall solution out of nowhere! And I admit, it looked cool as hell! I’ll give you two this win, here’s a little something for it,” Demon Kid said before tossing a bundle their way, which Mei caught with a look of caution from Green before they unwrapped it. To their mutual surprise, it was two letterman jackets emblazoned with the DJ Horns logo on the back and sleeves.

Before they could question him on this, Demon Kid gave the two a cheeky week before vanishing in a whirlwind of fire and smoke.

After a moment of stunned silence, Mei wordlessly took one of the jackets and put it on.

“After all that, you’re still willing to wear anything associated with DJ Horns?”

“Hey, this is merch I’ve never seen before and you gotta admit, we’d make this look good.” She even struck a pose to prove her point.

With a resigned groan, Green followed suit by putting on the other jacket and silently agreed that the jackets did make them look pretty good.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mei #mk #red son #roleswap au #traffic light trio #fanfiction #my writing

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romanceforransom · 3 years

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Thank you so much for tagging me in this @earthlingeliott ilysm 🥰

if you’re a writer:

a fic that you’re really proud of:

Probably Hair’be. It was the first proper multi chapter fic that I wrote, and it took me so many months to write it. I know that it probably isn’t the best written thing and I have definitely gotten better since then, but I’m super proud of actually writing so much and being able to say that I finished it.

a fic that you were nervous to post:

Umm probably A Vision of a Dying Embrace. It was the first fic that I did and full of angst (and mcd oop) so I knew that barely anyone would read it anyway but yeah I was very nervous to put my work out there.

a fic you wished got more hits/kudos/comments:

It’s probably a tie between two. The first one being You’re the song I play in my heart, just because I really loved writing it but I feel like not a lot of people read it? idk. the second one is my Yousmina fic. That one is obviously because it doesn’t have sobbe in it and barely anyone reads wtfock fics that don’t have sobbe (this isn’t me being mad, i do this too), i just wish it had more poeple reading it because i’m actually really happy with how it turned out

one of your favorite tropes to write:

I love slow burns (if you couldn’t tell haha) and pining is great too, gotta get that ✨tension✨ but yeah other than that just fluff, tooth-rotting fluff because imagining sweet situations for sobbe helps me cope with not seeing them

another ship that you don’t write but you’d like to write:

I read Evak fics quite a lot so that would be one that I may write someday... the problem is with that, a lot of people have done so many amazing fics for them and I wouldn’t want to unintentionally steal someone’s idea.

one of your abandoned wip you never wrote but wish you did:

I literally have 13 wips on my computer that i haven’t touched for months 😬 but all of them i loved the ideas for. I think maybe it would be the one where Sander has to go to his cousin’s wedding but he has to fly there (he is afraid of flying) and sits next to robbe who calms him down. plot twist, they are actually going to the same wedding because it is Amber and Aaron getting married and boom they fall in love. that one i would love to finish one day.

Ooor a certain fic that me and a certain person thought about *cough* @sonderthroughthestreets *cough* that i haven’t added to in... i don’t even know how long oops. again, maybe one day

another writer you would love to collaborate with:

Literally everyone because you are all so talented and I am in absolute awe of you!!! like your talent honestly astounds me. But if i had to pick... @sonderthroughthestreets @womenstan @honeyandsinn (yes I know we already collaborated with one more night don’t come for me, i just wanna work with you because i love you and i think you’re super talented)

if you’re a reader:

a fic (or more) that you love to reread:

I literally reread fics every night... ummm... Ok this is just a few of them

rotten work by aholynight

I’m slowly falling away by @fockinglevendcliche (the tension literally kills me every time)

run and score by aurora winds

we’ve been through a lot of things. you and me by @yasminaselamrani

recommend a story to your followers:

Ok so obviously the ones i listed above

mornings, yours & mine by ivy_seas

The entire sobbe!dads series that @honeyandsinn is doing (go and read it, it’s amazing)

If I asked you now, would you be my prince by @sonderthroughthestreets and @starryfreckles (they are doing the lords work with the ballet au)

All I Want by @if-music-be-the-food-of-love

tag an author you discovered recently:

Ummm i don’t think i really found anyone recently (literally constantly in the tag soo) but if you are a new writer and i didn’t realise, I’ve probably read it haha

spread the love!

tag someone who inspires you to write:

Literally everyone in the alt er writers block, you are all incredible and i love you so so much. And @sonderthroughthestreets @womenstan @honeyandsinn (sorry to be tagging you so many times in this) you are all so amazing and truly inspire me, so thank you 🥰

tag someone who you’ve admired forever:

Wow literally so many, like when i first got to ao3 i was mind blown (still am)

I’ll just list a few of the people and minimise my awkwardness as much as possible haha @yasminaselamrani @earthlingeliott @nbrook29 @foxsake5 @fockinglevendcliche @sobbefairytales (i know some of you I have never spoken to before... but hi you’re amazing, I love your fics 😊)

tag your writing support:

haha the alt er writers block (so yes hello @12monthoctober this includes you too my lovely, ily) are my saving grace. Also all the people who leave comments on my fics (I don’t know what their tumblrs are or i would tag them) but they help so much with my motivation.

I have no idea who has done this already but if you have already been tagged or if you’re reading this and want to do it, feel free!

#tagging games

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nikosomething · 4 years

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Thought it might be fun to share my concepts for my Beautiful Sacrifice Series

My Concepts

The women of The Untamed are so amazing ughhh

This whole series happened thanks to @mdzswomen s event to honour the women of MDZS. When I read about it I noticed I had never tried to draw any of these amazing women and I knew I needed to change something about that.

My idea was to create a tribute to these strong women and their decision to sacrifice everything. My choice of characters was based on the week one prompts: Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, Mian Mian and A-Qing. There were more prompts and women, but at that time I didn’t even think I’d manage to draw more than two of them let alone a conceptual series.

It all started with Wen Qing, actually, even though she was the prompt for day two. I knew I wanted a really tall format like a banner hanging from a ceiling (as they are often used in an honorary context) and parts of the character to stick out of its boundaries.

As you can see at first I experimented with Wen Qing fiercely staring into the distance. I tried another sketch with her eyes closed and that’s what inspired all other elements, really.

I decided that I wanted to depict one of the saddest, but also most beautiful and strongest aspects of their journey: the end. I’d call it their final moment, but that doesn’t quite cut it. Jiang Yanli saving Wei Wuxian might have been instinctive, but it wasn’t done to her, she chose to push him away, whatever it may cost her. Which is why I want to go for the phrasing of it having been their final decision. It was an action. And a strong one at that. MianMian chose to end her career, unwilling to tolerate those close-minded people. Wen Qing chose to face the Lanling Jin clan, knowing death was a very likely result. A-Qing chose to signal Xue Yang’s position knowing how dangerous he was.

I didn’t want to portray the scene too realistically, but rather in a symbolic way. For the Beautiful Sacrifice Series I wanted to focus on ease/liberation, sadness and beauty. I chose to portray the deceased with closed eyes and a peaceful expression (as they don’t regret their final act), which is why Mian Mian’s eyes are wide open with her determinedly looking ahead. I also included the last sentence we hear each of these women speak in the show before their (old) life ends.

WEN QING

The first character I had a concept for was Wen Qing. I knew immediately that I wanted to include fire as the cause of her death, but I also wanted to simplify it, to turn it more into a symbol than the actual scene of her being burnt alive.

(At least I imagine that that’s what happened, I may be wrong, though. We know they got her ashes. However, she may have been killed first and burnt later. Or they made it a spectacle to watch one of the last Wen die in flames. Very cruel, but perhaps some found it satisfying).

Wen Qing’s hair is floating in the upwind of the fire’s heat. The flames point to the last thing we hear her say. The background is red for the Wen and fades to black to make the fire shine bright.

The colouring process was quite challenging. I spent days on it, it was really giving me a headache hahaha, I just wasn’t satisfied with anything, the colour palette, the shading, the lighting (it’s the first time I tried a more fancy lighting situation). In the end I put some layers on multiply, which actually helped as I now know her robes were coloured too light, which meant there wasn’t enough contrast to the bright flames in the background.

I was really insecure about the whole piece. I am still stunned that Wen Qing is the drawing with the most notes of this entire series. Thank you so much, it gave me a lot of confidence and motivation to keep trying out new stuff!

JIANG YANLI

Immediately after I had scribbled my Wen Qing concept I knew what I wanted Jiang Yanli’s tribute to look like. Soft and tender, like she is. With Wen Qing it’s the powerful flames that make her hair puff up, resembling Wen Qing’s fierce personality. For Jiang Yanli it’s a gentle breeze that lifts a strand of her hair and carries the lotus leaves with it.

Her eyes are closed as she is deceased. A lotus flower is located where she received the lethal wound in her brother's stead. The flower symbolises her sect, family and fond memories (be it playing by the water with her brothers or making lotus root soup).

Jiang Yanli is wearing my favourite outfit of hers and not her mourning robes which she died in, because I think it captures the gentleness of her personality perfectly with the pastel Jiang colour palette (and it’s actually a layer of see-through fabric in the show).

I really enjoyed colouring this piece and while it was the second design it was the first one I did the lineart and colour for.

MIAN MIAN

I wanted to include an element of disillusion since she experiences that moment of humiliation which is followed by the realisation that the Jin clan doesn’t have her back and goes against her morals.

In the caption I wrote: She spoke up, she stood her ground and then she left all these narrow-minded people behind, choosing to walk alone rather than be silenced. She was the true spark amidst plain snow and she had to realise that the white peony she served was rotten. That day she escaped these golden robes, shedding this old skin which had gotten too tight, and stepped into the future that was hers and hers alone.

The white peony is the symbol of the Lanling Jin sect and while it shines brightly on the outside Mian Mian learned to see through the façade, recognising all the rotten parts she didn’t want to tolerate any longer. With her leaving the peony sheds its petals until it vanished from her life.

In my initial sketch Mian Mian is portrayed with the simple robes she wears underneath her Lanling Jin attire. Since I didn’t give Jiang Yanli her mourning robes and didn’t plan on drawing A-Qing in her white robes either it didn’t feel quite right, though.

The phrase “shedding old skin” and the image of a snake came to my mind. First I thought about experimenting with an actual snake or the pattern of its scales. In the end I settled on the Jin robes being that old skin and showed Mian Mian’s personal robes as the shiny new skin underneath. I wanted to show that she may be stepping out of the Jin sect, but that she is starting on a new, meaningful path.

(Drawing the Jin robes was quite bothersome hahaha. I took tons of pictures of me wearing a robe, but it was so slippery that I almost pulled a muscle while trying to make it look right in the photo. I spent an hour or so on it without any satisfying result and ended up drawing it from imagination after all.)

While I loved my sketch the execution was a p-a-i-n. Colouring her personal robes almost drove me mad and the face, the face was such a struggle. I think I redrew it four to five times. I still think I could have done better, but after days of trying to fix it I decided that perhaps I need some more months of practice to get her expression right (so I might re-draw her in the future).

A-QING

I didn’t think I’d enjoy the A-Qing piece as much as I did!! After having drawn three artworks I was worried that I may have exhausted all possibilities / ideas and that it would end up being a repetition of what I had already done.

I rewatched her episodes for inspiration. I watched all significant episodes of all the women I drew for that matter haha. The last thing we hear her say is directed at Song Lan, actually, which in retrospect surprised me. I could have sworn she talked to Xiao Xingchen last. Or Xue Yang (like in the novel). But nope, it’s our poor poor Song Lan.

Given that A-Qing died the youngest (I think?) I wanted to make her look younger than the other women, so I kept her head round and used pastel colours on her face.

I like moths (unless they eat my clothes or settle down in my food). Moths seek the light and in some way Xiao Xingchen was that light in A-Qing’s life. With the glow they symbolise A-Qing’s soul leaving her body through the lethal wound Xue Yang inflicted on her.

I placed one moth on her mouth as she has been muted by Xue Yang. The new moon in the background stands for the eternal darkness Xue Yang cast on her as moonless nights are the darkest.

For A-Qing I wrote in the caption: She couldn’t protect the man who had taken her in and cared for her. But she stayed. She became a lonely guardian, watching out for the remains of her lost brother in the silence and darkness which were forced upon her. Until that fated day when she gave her life so that the culprit who had shattered this tender soul would be brought to justice.

I finished A-Qing’s artwork way quicker than expected. The robes were tricky with all the torn spots and loose thread, but the rest came easy. I had lots of fun with the moths and the moon. And the glow. I love that cool light blue glow.

THANK YOU

All in all I really loved drawing this series and I thank you for your support, for your wonderful tags which make me smile and giggle and for every reblog and like! Whenever I have a hard time I revisit your tags and find strength within them.

#fytheuntamed #mdzsnet #the untamed fanart #mdzs #mdzswomen #cql #my art #my art 2020 #concept art

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stones-x-bones · 3 years

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Leap Of Faith || Mina and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex and Mina go cliff diving at the Champlain Falls and end up playing an unwilling game of hide and seek in a cave instead. Bex has a gift for Mina. CONTENT: Brief domestic abuse mention, NSWF (References to sex)

Okay, Bex thought, maybe agreeing to cliff dive with Mina (in order to distract her, she’d been so tense lately, ever since that warden in the Common) was a bad idea. Now that she was standing on the top of the falls, looking down into the water, she was second guessing everything. But things had been getting so stressful-- for both her and Mina, and even Morgan-- Bex felt as if she were going to explode. She needed to get out, and distracting Mina for a day was a good enough excuse for her.

Ever since she’d woken up a single heiress of an entire fortune, the world had felt so much larger. Without the looming presence of her parents, Bex felt like she could do anything. And she wanted to do everything. That included cliff diving at Champlain Falls with Mina. Bex subconsciously squeezed Mina’s hand as she glanced over the ledge, making sure both her feet were planted firmly this time. They’d come up on a relatively quiet day, finding they had the falls-- at least way up here, which was a lengthy hike in hot weather-- mostly to themselves. Bex couldn’t help but remember the first time they’d come up here, how she’d held MIna’s hand the whole way. The picture she’d taken, the kiss on the cheek. Falling on top of her. That had totally been a date, hadn’t it? Her cheeks reddened with the thought as she came back over to Mina, reaching out to draw her fingers along Mina’s arm. “You know, we totally don’t have to do this,” she said, “we could just enjoy the nice pic-nic you made for us and dip our feet in the river or something.”

There was something about standing on a ledge that made Mina’s heart pound in the best way. It was fear, but it was controlled fear. She was in charge of it. It wasn’t strangers writing messages in rotten blood, or weird pictures, or wardens calling her out in public places, or even vampires compelling her to spill all her secrets. There were no wolves or feelings of revenge, just her and a cliff and the girl that she loved. Mina’s heart was pounding in the best way.

She grinned brightly and looked at Bex, taking in her slight blush, the way the slight breeze ruffled her hair, the tired look in her eyes. They’d both been through so much, recently. Too much. And maybe jumping off of a cliff into a waterfall wasn’t the best way to cope with any of that, but they were there, and this was happening, and Mina just wanted to feel something like control. She remembered the first time she jumped off a waterfall when she was younger, the way her heart pounded in her chest from the height of it. And then she’d been falling, and there was a moment where she felt it stop, and then she hit the water and everything felt right. And there was something about Champlain Falls that Mina always enjoyed. She wanted to jump. She could see how apprehensive Bex was, though. Her smile softened. “We don’t have to, no. We can do whatever you want to, Dipping our feet in the river might be nice. Or you could watch me, if you want.”

Bex couldn’t help but melt into Mina, into that smile, those brown eyes. When she looked at her, nothing else mattered. Not crazy wardens, or mounds of legal paperwork, or vampires trying to change. It was just them and that was it. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around Mina, leaning in for a quick kiss before she looked back over her shoulder at the cliff, and the waterfall beside it. She wanted to, she did, she was just afraid. But being brave was about doing it even if you were afraid. She turned back to face Mina. “No, I want to jump. With you. I trust you,” she said firmly, even if her heart wavered a bit at the thought. She would be okay, though. She knew that Mina would never let anything hurt her. “But before we jump--” she said, leaning back further and unfurling her arms from around the other girl and bounding over to the little pic-nic area they’d set up when they first got here. “I have something to give you.” She dug around in her pack for a moment before pulling out a small, velvet bag before coming back over to Mina, smiling. “Hold out your hand.”

“Are you sure?” Mina asked, and she held onto Bex a little tighter, her hand going to Bex’s cheek as she kissed her back. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you while we’re here, though. I promise.” And Mina said it with such surety because there was nothing that she could be more sure of. They were going to have a good time, and Mina wasn’t going to let anything bad happen. She cocked her head slightly as Bex walked away, her eyes curious. Mina stepped away from the cliff, towards Bex. “Something to give me?” she asked, and she wondered if Bex understood what it meant to give something to a Fae. Sometimes, Mina didn’t really get it herself. Accepting gifts from Fae was dangerous, and giving gifts to Fae always had the chance to go poorly, even when some thought it was a requirement. A gift, a deal, a promise, a name. Things that were so quintessentially Fae that Mina didn’t really know anything about. She walked forward again. Quietly, she said, “You didn’t have to get me anything.” But she held her hand loosely out in front of her.

“I’m sure,” Bex said, and she said it quickly, because if she didn’t, she might change her mind again, and she didn’t want to change her mind. She wanted to try all the things she’d been deprived of and jumping off a waterfall with her girlfriend was certainly one of those things. Besides, she knew Mina would enjoy it, and she wanted to see that smile that made her own heart flutter. “And stop promising things. I release you from that promise.” She shot Mina a grumpy look, but it didn’t last long. “Well, technically I didn’t get you anything. I made it. Or, well-- had it made. But that’s not the important part.” Bex came back over to Mina and tugged the small bag open. She could feel her heartbeat reverberating in her chest as she let the contents of the small bag slide out into Mina’s palm. It was a ring, two rings, matching. Under the resin sheen was a familiar colored rock, that seemed to glow in a rainbow in the light. “They’re made from the meteorite, but don’t worry! They won’t make you glow, I swear. It’s inside the resin mold. I made sure it worked, too. But I um--” she felt her cheeks grow hot suddenly, and pointed at the side of one of them, which sported an infinity sigil-- “wanted you to have something solid. I know words can only mean so much, even to Fae, but I just thought it might be nice, to have something to look at, if you ever need a reminder and I’m not around.” She stopped herself from rambling more and watched Mina’s face carefully, hoping the unspoken promise wasn’t too much.

“Okay,” Mina said. “And I wouldn’t make the promise if I wasn’t sure that I could keep it.” She saw Bex’s grumpy look and returned it by sticking out her tongue, an incredibly childish gesture that she never would have even thought about before knowing Bex. She felt the promise unwind itself from her heart, but she would keep it all the same. She wasn’t going to let Bex get hurt. They were going to have a good time, just as they’d had a good time at the hot springs, and just as they had at the Stacked Deck, and just as they had the first time they came here, back before everything had gotten both so right and so wrong. And Mina was remembering how much she’d wanted to kiss Bex that day, and then there were two rings in the palm of her hand, and she was so fascinated and overwhelmed and just in awe that she didn’t know what to say. Finally, she managed to choke out, “You shouldn’t swear. It’s very rude,” before she surged forward, holding the rings tightly in one hand while she wove the other into Bex’s hair and kissed her hard. When she pulled away, it was only to kiss Bex again, softly this time. “I love you. So much. So, so much. Thank you.”

Bex’s face drew into momentary confusion at Mina’s answer-- it had nothing to do with the rings, or anything she’d said, really. But before it could click in her head what she’d meant, Mina was kissing her, their bodies pressed tightly together, a hand woven into her hair. She couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. She lifted her hands to cup Mina’s face when she pulled away. “My apologies,” she said in a sing-song voice, “i’ll refrain from swearing from now on.” Another kiss, softer, and yet her heart hammered harder. Maybe the concept of a promise ring was old fashioned, but they meant more than just that. It was from the first day they’d decided to call each other their partner, and it was from the first thing Bex had ever given Mina as her girlfriend, and it was from a moment in time that Bex wanted captured forever. It was the solid form of her love and her promise of forever, encased in an unbreakable shell. “I love you, too,” she said, nuzzling into her, lips grazing hers gently, “so fucking much.”

“You’re not sorry at all,” Mina said, laughing. “And no you won’t. I think you’re the reason I swear more.” Not that she minded. It was like sticking out her tongue or arguing back or saying what was on her mind. All of these things were a part of the person that she’d become because she knew Bex, hung out with Bex, loved her. And she loved her so much, and she’d been abe to change so much because of her. And Mina was okay with that. When she finally pulled away, it was enough to look at the rings. They were gorgeous, and they were fascinating, and they were so much more than just rings if she chose to accept them. But she had already accepted them, hadn’t she? Any kind of promise made to or by a Fae was binding, and rings were no different. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. That was what Mina had always been taught. And, if they couldn’t be kept, then you must be prepared to face the consequences. There wasn’t any sort of promise that she would ever hold Bex to, not unless Mina thought it would keep her safe. Even this, even these rings, even everything that they meant to her. And they meant so much to her. She had to wonder if Bex knew what she was doing, giving a Fae a promise ring. “You didn’t have to do this,” she murmured against Bex’s lips. “You don’t have to make a promise like this.”

“No,” Bex smirked, “I’m not.” And she wasn’t, about any of it. She’d been able to find a whole new world because of Mina, and find herself within that. She didn’t know when everything had changed so much, but maybe it had been so gradual she hadn’t noticed. There was just before and after, and this. And she wanted nothing more, couldn’t possibly want anything more. As Mina held her, Bex brushed her thumbs over her cheeks slowly, as if memorizing the feel of her skin. Just in case. They had already agreed to forever, this was just reinforcing it. This made it tangible, so that when they doubted it within themselves, they could see the ring and remember. That’s all Bex wanted. She shook her head, still grinning, and licked her lips. “I know I didn’t. But I wanted to.” Her voice grew tender, if maybe a bit forlorn. “Mina, you...you are my everything. You say you only make bets on things you know will work out, but you bet on me, and you didn’t know if it would. It almost didn’t. But-- we’re here now, and I’m willing to take the gamble.” She leaned back enough to look into Mina’s eyes. “High risk, high reward, right?”

Mina looked at the rings, could barely take her eyes off of them, only pulled her eyes away to look at Bex. “You’re my everything, too,” she said, so quiet and soft but sure, so sure. She’d never been more sure of anything in her entire life. “You make me a terrible cliche, you know. And hopeful. Sometimes so stupidly hopeful, and I’ve never really been hopeful about anything, but here I am, and here you are, and…” She trailed off, brushing her hand through Bex’s hair, moving it to rub her thumb along Bex’s jaw. “And gambling on you was worth it. Even if I’d never been able to see you again, you were worth it. You’ll always be worth it to me.” She grinned, even if she was nervous and worried and always so scared that Bex would end up regretting this, regretting her. “High risk, high reward. You’re the best reward, actually.” She kissed Bex again before pulling away. “Do you want to put these on now, or do you want to wait until after, to make sure they don’t get lost?”

Bex just smiled. “I’ll take it. Cliche or not, that’s all I want. Is to make you happy, hopeful. Maybe that makes me one, too, but I don’t really care.” And she didn’t. She’d never thought she’d get something like this in her life. Everything she’d grown up believing had been flipped on its head, and here she was, still standing, with a girl she loved, wrapped up in her arms. Bex leaned into Mina’s touch, closing her eyes a moment. It was so calming here, so peaceful, she could almost forget the turmoil in her heart, her head. She wanted to forget those. Bex kissed Mina back and let thoughts of anything else drift from her mind. “No, I think you might be the best reward.” Kissed her again, lingering to taste her lips. “Yes, definitely you.” Bex almost whined when Mina pulled away, but if they kept this up, they wouldn’t jump. Besides, they could save that for after. She took Mina’s hand, the one clutching the rings, and prodded it open. “I guess we should wait till after. I’d hate to lose them so soon. At least wait a week,” she teased, grinning. She deposited them back in the small velvet bag and set it in the middle of their pic-nic area, so that when they returned, they could put them on right away. Turned back to Mina and drew in a breath. “Ready to jump?”

“I want to make you happy, too,” Mina said, and, oh, that was really all that she wanted. She wanted to make Bex happy, and she wanted to make sure Bex was safe, and she wanted nothing more than to know that Bex was okay. Mina knew that she couldn’t protect Bex from everything. She couldn’t stop Bex from getting herself into reckless situations, even if she wanted to. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to, and it didn’t mean that a part of her didn’t hurt and ache every time she knew something was wrong. “Not true,” she said. She wasn’t the best reward. She was panicky and prone to saying and doing the wrong thing, and there would always be a part of her that Bex wouldn’t understand, and it wasn’t the Fae part. She didn’t think that Bex would ever get the way that Mina was raised, the way that hunting and protecting people mattered to her. And maybe Mina didn’t get it either, but it wasn’t something that she could really explain. She watched Bex put the rings away and then striped off her shirt, leaving herself in a sports bra and workout shorts. “I’m ready. Are you?”

Bex bit her lip. “You do make me happy. So happy.” Bex stopped to watch Mina pull her shirt off, nodding to herself as she smiled. “Nice.” Grinned, before she yanked her own shirt off, and then tugged on her pants. It’d been a long time since she’d worn a bathing suit, and the idea still scared her. It was easier to know her secret when she was this exposed, but the only person around was Mina, and she’d prepared for this, so she tugged her pants off and trotted over to Mina quickly, wrapping her arms around her again. She peppered Mina’s cheeks with kisses when she came back. “I’m as ready as I’m gonna get, at the very least,” she said, taking Mina’s hand and leading her towards the cliff. The sun was reflecting off the waterfall’s mist creating a shimmering rainbow beside them that flickered in and out. “Okay,” she swallowed, “tell me what to do.”

“Good.” And Mina laughed at the way Bex blatantly checked her out. If it was anyone else, she’d feel self conscious and almost like it was a joke, but she knew better with Bex, and she couldn’t really stop herself from looking, either. She smiled widely as Bex kissed her, her nose scrunching up a bit. She pulled back just enough to look at her more. “You should wear this more often, you know. It looks really good. You look really good.” Mina let Bex lead her to the cliff, her heart pounding again. It was so lovely, here. Another place that Mina thought she could disappear into, if she was inclined. But she wasn’t, not anymore. She was happy where she was, with this girl that she loved. Nothing would change that. “Keep your legs straight and together, or pull them in when we get close to the water. Try to jump outside of the areas where the water is rushing and frothing. It’s much calmer over there.” She squeezed Bex’s hand. “And I won’t let go if you want to jump together.”

Bex felt her cheeks burn, tucking her chin into her shoulder shyly for a moment. “Maybe,” she said, “just for you.” If Mina was self conscious about the scars on her arms, then Bex could understand how it felt, like this. She squeezed Mina’s hand tightly as she listened. Legs together, jump away from the rushing. She looked over at Mina, a wary looking passing over her face for only a moment. “Don’t let go,” she said quickly, squeezing again. “I need you. I want to jump with you.” She edged a bit closer to the cliff and looked down into the foaming water below. This time, she didn’t see a sky in its surface, only the ripples the falls were making as they dumped into the lake below. Bex looked back at Mina and drew in a breath. “Together.”

“I’d be okay with that, actually,” Mina murmured, rubbing her thumb over Bex’s hand. She could tell the way that Bex was taking in her words, really listening to her, and she couldn’t help but be grateful for it. Sometimes, it felt like she was talking to a wall when she offered Bex advice, never sure if she’d actually be listened to. And it probably didn’t help that Mina had literally no backbone and didn’t know how to tell people things unless she was training them for combat. “Then I won’t let go.” She laced their fingers together, holding on tight. “On three.” They moved closer to the edge, and Mina could almost feel herself being pulled in. “One… two…” Usually, Mina waited until after three to do something, like setting a bone. She waited this time, though. “Three!” And, together, they jumped.

Bex jumped, hand laced with Mina’s. She trusted the girl beside her so much that she was now jumping feet first off a cliff into a lake, knowing she was a poor swimmer, with her. And the rush was thrilling. She felt like they were falling forever. The world rushed past them, trees and rock in the distance, but the surface below felt as if it were moving away from her, from them. It shimmered and Bex closed her eyes, just as they broke the surface and plummeted into the water.

It was cold. Colder than Bex had expected, really, but that was okay. She didn’t mind it too much. For a moment, they were suspended in the water, floating weightlessly in the water and Bex remembered why she did actually enjoy being in the water. It was quiet down here, and calming. The world above the surface just didn’t matter. But her human lungs began to beg for air, and Bex started towards the surface when she felt something dragging her back. It wasn’t a thing, no, but a current. The water itself was dragging them down, a whirlpool pulling them in. Bex could feel her grip loosening from Mina’s and she tried desperately to hold on. Don’t let go, she thought despairingly, please don’t let go.

Mina felt her heart stutter to a stop as they fell, only to restart itself as they hit the water. It was instantaneous, the way her gills opened on the side of her neck, though nothing else changed too much at first as she let her eyes adjust, breathing and taking in their surroundings. It wasn’t until she started to feel them drifting, her eyes falling on the whirlpool as it began dragging at them and pulling them apart that Mina started to panic, her eyes wide as she looked at where Bex’s hand was slipping from her own. Her feet shifted into two separate fins and she lunged forward, grabbing Bex as tight as she could and pushing them both up to the surface. Fighting against the currents as much as she could. All she cared about was making sure that Bex could breathe because Bex was human, and that meant that she needed to be able to breathe.

There was something about the vortex that made Bex’s limbs tingle. Mina was shifting now, grabbing Bex under her shoulders to push them to the surface. But Bex looked down at the whirlpool and forgot, for a moment, that she needed to breathe. Panic reemerged in her body when she opened her mouth to try and breath but only water heaved into her lungs. They were so close to the surface, yet so far. Somehow so far again. They sank lower, even as Mina desperately tried to pull them to the surface and the swirling, dark waters of the vortex swallowed them.

And then Bex was bursting from the surface, gasping for air, clawing at anything solid to hold onto. “Mina?” she called out blindly, searching for her. “Mina!”

Mina managed to break the surface of the water for only a moment before she was dragged back down, Bex no longer in her arms. She fought against the water, but this wasn’t like fighting off a creature in the forest. There was nothing to grasp, nothing to hit, nothing to claw at. It was just her and the water, and it threw her around for what felt like forever before she finally won in her struggle and pushed herself upwards, breathing in actual air.

“Bex!” Mina yelled immediately, her voice echoing through the space as she looked around, confused, but she couldn’t see the girl that she’d literally been holding onto only moments before. “Bex!” She started to panic before diving back below the surface. She looked around, but she couldn’t see anything.

Bex floundered for a moment, sputtering as she tried to find solid ground to hold onto. Finally, her hands hit rock and she grasped it gratefully, yanking herself over to it and up onto solid ground. She sputtered and coughed and spit up water, breathing heavy. Once again, she called out, “Mina?” though her voice cracked a little more. But there was no answer. Bex allowed herself to lay down for a moment, catching her breath, before she opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a cave. It was dark, only little trickles of light dribbling in from cracks in the top of the cavern above her. The only source of water was the one she’d burst from, but when she looked at it now, it was barely deep enough to reach her chin. She stood on shaky legs, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered once. Now she wished she’d never taken her shirt off. “Mina?” she called again. It echoed. There was no way Bex was climbing out of here, so into the little tunnel it was. Whatever was going on, it was magic, and Bex knew magic. She could find her way back to Mina, she knew she could. She wished they’d put the rings on, she could’ve used hers to track Mina with a simple spell she’d found. That was part of why she’d made them matching. Still, she pushed on, bare feet padding against the damp cavern floor.

There was no one, nothing, below the surface, and Mina could only frantically come back up, looking around in the darkness. “Bex!” she called out again, and her voice echoed. She could only hope somehow, someway, Bex had managed to break the surface without her. She looked around, trying to find some way to get out of the water. “Bex!” She couldn’t touch the bottom of the pool of water she was in without going under, even with her fins replacing her feet and adding a few extra inches to her length. She was in some sort of cave system, though, unable to see any sort of stars. Unable to see anything at all, really, as her eyes adjusted to being out of water. But she swam until she reached a wall, and then dragged herself along it until she finally found a ledge to sit on. She pulled herself up, her body shifting back to being as human as possible before she scrambled to stand and started moving immediately. She didn’t know where she was, but it wasn’t under the waterfall. She could be anywhere, and anything could be with her. Anything could be with Bex. Mina had to find her. Again, she called out, “Bex!” Scales and claws and webbing formed on her hands. Anything could be with her. She needed to be prepared.

Bex squinted through the darkness of the cavern, sidling through a crevasse that just barely fit her. She felt rocks scraping against her back and winced a little. “Mina?” she tried again, once she was in a more open section. Water trickled down from above, but she couldn’t hear the rushing of the falls. They had to be somewhere else, somehow. She rubbed her hands along her arms in an attempt to keep herself warm, and headed to another tunnel when there was no answer from Mina. She was beginning to wonder if they’d even ended up in the same place, there was no guarantee of that. Bex wished her magic could do anything here. She didn’t even know how to make herself astral project, couldn’t use it to sense Mina, couldn’t even use it to track her. Sighing, she slid to a sit, rubbing her palms into her eyes. “This is stupid. Why can’t you just give us one day, universe!?” she called out and it echoed grumpily back to her. She stood back up, brushing her legs off, and crawled through one of the smaller spaces, tumbling out of the other end and down a little run-off stream until she landed face first in a puddle at the bottom. Groaning, she rolled over onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. “Stupid White Crest.”

But just then, a noise echoed back to her. It wasn’t Mina’s voice, but a tiny, shrill squeak. Bex sat up quickly and looked around. “Hello?” She pushed herself to her feet and followed the noise to the left of the cavern. “Who’s there?” she called, and this time, something answered. “Who’s there?” Bex perked up. “Mina?” And, again. “Mina?” It was as if something were imitating her. Hurriedly, she made her way through the crevasses towards the sound, not noticing as the earth shifted behind her and closed them up.

Putting her hand against the right wall, Mina began walking, finding a spot where the ledge gave way to a tunnel, which led her away from the water and downward. Mina had been in plenty of caves. There was always a certain moistness to them that clung to her skin, often making her break out in scales. They were often a good source for freshwater, the way it dripped from the ceiling, the way that caverns often had underground rivers and lakes. Her dad had always been curious about whether it was uncomfortable for her, being so far underground, in the earth. But caves weren’t that bad. Even if they were uncomfortable to sleep in.

Mina dug her claws into the wall, scratching at the surface of it. If she needed to come back this way and found any sort of light source, she’d be able to get back to the pool, in theory. Whether that meant she’d be able to find a way out was up for debate. She had more pressing priorities, though. “Bex!” she called out again. “Bex!” and the tunnel shook a bit, either not used to the noise or because something else was moving inside of it. But Mina really didn’t give a damn. She wanted to find Bex, and she wanted them to leave, and she wanted to be able to enjoy the rest of the day. She wanted, she wanted, she wanted. Let her fucking have this, okay? “If the bloody Fates are real, they fucking hate me,” she muttered, clenching her jaw tight enough to taste blood. She stopped walking and took a steadying breath. Then, she started walking again. “Bex!”

Bex followed the voice until it felt like she was surrounded by it. “Mina?” she called again, and now there were several voices, chiming in. It echoed in the cavern around her and she spun in a circle, looking for any sign of something, someone. But she couldn’t quite see through the dark, even if she heard footsteps all around her. They were light, likely not human. She moved through the darkness and wished she’d remembered that illumination spell Nell had been teaching her before everything went to shit. But it was so long ago, and so she squinted through the dark and continued through the tunneling cave, only stopping when the cave rumbled. She stumbled into the cave wall and tried to hold herself up with it, finding it wet and slippery as she fell to the ground. “Oh, c’mon!” she cried out, frustrated. “Quit taunting me!” She wanted to either find what was making that noise or to find Mina again. She just didn’t know how to do either of those things.

The cave rumbled and shifted again and Bex scrambled back to her feet. “Okay, okay,” she said, waving her hands around, “so you’re stuck in a cave in a bathing suit and no phone or way to light it up and it might be collapsing, but that’s okay! You have magic. Just think. There’s gotta be something, right? There’s gotta be…” And then it hit her. If she could channel moonlight then she could channel sunlight, too. It was all just energy. She picked up some loose rocks and walked over to where the sunlight drizzled in and sat, making a little circle in the dirt around her, just like Sai had had. She held out the stones-- it was no crystal, but she didn’t need it to trap the energy, just to absorb the sunlight and start glowing. Just like Sai had shown her, and a few times after, she let the feel of the warm sun on her skin sink into her, before she moved the energy towards the stones. She felt it begin to heat in her hand and her eyes popped open to glowing stones. “Yes!” she exclaimed loudly. “I did it!” The cave rumbled and she quieted, biting her lip. She stood up and held out the stone, carving a little ‘B’ and an arrow of which direction she went into the softest part of the wall before she turned to head off. Either Mina would find her or her glowing stones, as she left a little trail of them from cave to cave, following the voices and hoping there was an exit at the end of them.

All of the noise that Mina was making had to be attracting some sort of creature, she just knew it. She kept calling out anyway, scratching at the wall and daring anything to come at her. If she could see herself, she knew that she’d look like a mess. Frantic and frustrated and soaking wet, calling out for a girl that probably couldn’t even hear her. Mina stopped walking after the third turn. She’d stopped counting the time, too scared to linger on how long Bex had been stuck wherever they were, alone. Mina wanted to stop moving, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She had to find Bex. They had to get out of… wherever they were. Because they were somewhere. Somewhere. Just somewhere. Her nails dug into the wall viciously, ripping away and causing bits of rock and dirt to fall away. She was just about to give up and sit down until she noticed something. The letter B, an arrow, a glowing rock. Mina’s eyes widened, her heart was beating fast. “Bex!” she called out again, hoping the other girl was close. Then, she started moving faster and began following the path of glowing stones.

Bex was down to her last stone, which, logically, meant she should stop moving and maybe just wait for Mina. But the rumbling in the cave-- the sound of gravel or rock falling, maybe crumbling-- was following her, too, and the voices felt so close. She knew they weren’t human, at this point. There were several normal animals that could imitate voices, but she doubted it was something like that, either. It was likely supernatural, and the idea excited her maybe a bit too much. She should probably find Mina first, or wait for Mina to find her. Instead, Bex held up her last stone and carved her initial into the wall once more before heading into the next cave. The squeeze through the two rocks, so close together she was sidled sideways, scraping her bare back and stomach against it, was longer than she’d expected. But when she reached the other side, sunlight beamed down through an enormous hole in the ceiling and she had to shield her eyes to look up at it. The patter of feet, however, distracted her, and she twisted to try and follow the noise. “Mina?” She couldn’t see anyone in the shadows, her eyes now adjusted to the light. Then, echoing so faintly she almost didn’t hear it, someone calling her name. Bex’s face lit up and she ran towards the crevasse she’d crawled through, holding up the rock. “Mina!” she called back as loud as she could. “In here!” Too excited to have found Mina that she didn’t notice the patter of tiny feet getting closer.

It seemed like the stones were getting fewer and farther, but Mina followed after them, knowing that somewhere at the end was Bex, and that was all that mattered. Cliff diving was stupid. No more cliff diving. Especially not in White Crest. Both times that Mina had attempted it had been disastrous, even if the first time had been unintentional. The stakes weren’t as high (she was nowhere near death), yet they somehow seemed higher. If she couldn’t find Bex, she didn’t know what she’d do. She just didn’t. Somehow, though, she heard her name. She saw something glowing. “Bex!” Mina was running, then, not paying attention at all to her surroundings, only focused on getting to the little light that she could just barely make out. There was a hole in the wall separating the two of them, but she didn’t care. She was breathless and ginning when she made it, looking at Bex as she started to attempt to make her way through the crevice. “You’re brilliant, you know that? With the rocks? You’re just brilliant.”

“Mina!” Bex was so relieved to hear her voice, see her face, even if it was by the dim light of a slowly fading sunstone, through a tiny crevice in a cave. She reached her hand through to try and grab Mina’s, but she was just a little too far away. “Well, I mean, brilliant is a strong word, but I won’t be mad if you insist on it.” She grinned, as much as she could with her face pressed up against a damp boulder slick with algae and run-off water. “Just a little farther, I know it’s kind of a tight squeeze, but I think there’s a way out over he--” She yelped, mid sentence, when something grabbed her ankle and tugged. “What the--?” She couldn’t quite turn her head enough to see what was pulling at her leg, but out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw what looked like a little, grey patchy humanoid, who looked more like a living stone with teeth than anything living. She also thought she saw more melting out of the shadows, heading towards them. “Okay, never mind, maybe go back! Go back that wa--” but she was interrupted once more when several more tiny stone hands wrapped around her legs and yanked her from the crevice. She fell back onto her ass and groaned, lifting her stone, ready to swing but all the little men were doing was staring. “Uhhh…”

“I’m insisting it,” Mina said, and she didn’t didn’t realize how happy she could be to be in such a wretched situation, but here she was, completely and utterly happy to just see that Bex was alright. Or, as alright as she could be wet and cold and in a bloody cave. But that happiness quickly faded as Bex was jerked away from her, and Mina lunged forward, trying to figure out what was happening. Then, she felt it. Stupid. She was so, so stupid to not realize that there were other Fae around. Tommyknockers were notorious cave dwellers, and Mina had actually killed a few of them before, back when she was about 17 and more devoted to her dad’s teachings. She remembered the way their group had stumbled across the creatures in the dark, and she remembered the looks of what she could only imagine were confusion as she’d killed her own kind. But they weren’t humanoid. They couldn’t blend into human society. They were just monsters. And, now, they were trying to take the girl that she loved away from her. Except… they weren’t. “Hey, don’t--” What could she say to them. There was so many, and they were so Fae, and Mina didn’t know what to do. She wanted to lash out at these creatures, to hurt them before they could hurt Bex, but that wasn’t smart, and she needed to be smart. She had to be. “Don’t touch her, please.”

Bex looked up at Mina when she came stumbling through, a horrified but determined look on her face. More of the little stone creatures came crawling from the shadows, but didn’t dare go too close to the sunlight. Bex tried to stand as Mina asked them not to touch her, but one of them grabbed her arm and tugged her back down to a sit. “Okay! Okay, I’ll...stay here.” Her eyes searched Mina for some answer, but if she had it, Bex couldn’t tell. “What um-- what do they want? Er-- what do you want?” she asked tentatively, looking back and forth between Mina and the creatures. They weren’t attacking and they didn’t seem hostile, but there wasn’t any sign of them being benevolent or friendly, either. Whatever they were, they needed to be careful about this, because there were at least twenty of them, and only two of Mina and Bex-- and Bex didn’t quite think her barrier spells were up to par yet. She could try, though. She would, if it called for it, even if Mina would frown at her and fret over it, as her magic waned her energy from her. And it had been doing that so much easier these days, squeezing on her heart. She hadn’t told anyone that yet. She hoped she wouldn’t have to right now.

There wasn’t anything more that Mina could do except to move slowly and sit down on the ground as the large group of small Fae surrounded them. There was so many. So many. She was so stupid to have missed the signs that there were other Fae around. Her nerves felt like they were on end, though she’d thought that had something to do with just being frantic about looking for Bex. Instead, it was from all of these little monsters that were so similar and yet so dissimilar to her. The tommyknockers started speaking, not all at once, but one, sometimes two, at a time. “Bex!” “Mina!” Over and over again they repeated their names, mimicking and mocking and just… playing the way that Fae played. Mina tried to move in closer to Bex before one of the tommyknockers pulled at the hem of her shorts, and she jerked away from it. It looked at her with such confusion. They always looked at her with such confusion. It was lucky that she didn’t hit it. “She’s with me,” she told the tommyknocker instead. “We got lost. We’d like to leave, and if, perhaps, you could help us with that, I would greatly appreciate it.”

The things started dancing and calling out their names, in that weird, scratchy tone that sounded almost like their own voices but not quite. Bex, in turn, tried to scoot closer to Mina, but the two critters that were closest to her grabbed her ankles again and tugged her away from her. Mina was looking at them with something Bex couldn’t quite place, but the little men seemed to like her. They were even confused when she reacted poorly to them. A few of them crowded between her and Bex and one poked her in the back, making her yelp and arch her back. They gestured to Mina, then back to her. “Why human?” one of them asked, his beady, little red eyes flashing confusion at Mina. “Why keep?” Bex looked at Mina, surprised to hear them speak. It was rudimentary, but the words were there and they sounded different than when they’d been mimicking her and Mina’s voices a moment ago. Confused herself, Bex looked across to Mina. “What are they talking about?”

“They’re Fae,” Mina told Bex, her voice quiet. Maybe, in the back of her mind, a part of her still felt disgust over the fact that she was supposed to relate to these creatures. All they did was hurt people, lure them astray and laugh at their demise, and Mina couldn’t stand it. And now they were asking her why she wanted to keep Bex, like Bex was some sort of object and not a person. “They want to know why I’m with a human.” And this time Mina moved closer to Bex, and she tried not to look at the tommyknockers with complete hatred in her eyes, but she was angry, and she was frustrated, and she just wanted to get Bex and herself out of the fucking cave. She took a steadying breath, slowed down her heart. “Don’t touch her again,” she said calmly. “She’s my person, and I don’t want any of you to touch her again.” And maybe they might not know exactly what she meant, but she could only hope they would listen.

These things were Fae? Bex knew Mina had an aversion to her own species, but Bex hadn’t ever really considered the fact that even more beast like creatures could be Fae. DId that mean Mina could feel them, too? Now didn’t seem like the best time to ask, so she just nodded. They were looking at Mina expectantly, and her like they were excited. Mina was asking them to stay away from her again, but Bex just looked at them as expectantly as they looked at her. She held out her hand as one would if they were approaching an anxious looking animal, and one of the little creatures eagerly took it, turning it around and examining each finger. “I don’t think they’re gonna hurt us,” she said, looking back at Mina. “Maybe we should just do what they want? If they live down here, they probably know the way out?” The one holding her hand perked up. “Way out,” it repeated and flashed a spiked, toothy grin. “We know.” But they didn’t move, looking expectantly at Mina again. “Play with human first?”

“Bex, please don’t encourage them,” Mina groaned, anger giving away to exasperation relatively quickly as she figured out that, as long as she didn’t provoke any sort of violence, she and Bex would likely make it out of this alright. She should have known that Bex would be just as curious about the tommyknockers as they would be about her, but Fae curiosity was a bit like a toddler’s; they tended to break things in an effort to play with them or figure out how they worked. And Mina really didn’t want Bex to get broken. But she also didn’t want to control Bex, and she didn’t want these creatures to see Bex as Mina’s property, as if she didn’t have a voice of her own. “No hurting,” she said, rubbing at her eyes. She moved a little closer to Bex, not touching, but refusing to leave and reminding the other Fae that she was there, and she was serious. “And ask her if you can play, first. And she has a name. And she makes her own decisions. So ask.” One of the things that Mina had always been warned against was that Fae like this, especially the ones that couldn’t blend in with humans, couldn’t be reasoned with. They would do as they pleased no matter what. Well, now Mina was putting that to the test and hoping to be proved wrong. Otherwise, things would get messy.

Mina didn’t seem very happy about anything that was going on, and Bex wanted to reach out to reassure her, but worried if she did, the other fae might react poorly. They clearly thought she was less than Mina, seeing as she was human. And, really, Morgan and Deirdre and even Mina had explained that to her, that most fae thought humans were below them, inferior, but it was strange, seeing the behavioral trait in only rudimentary sentient beings. Mina was instructing them to talk to her, ask her, and Bex kept quiet, observing. They all still seemed confused. But the one holding Bex’s hand looked up at her and mimicked, “Play?” Tentatively, she looked back at Mina, then to the one holding her hand. “One game,” she finally said, “then you have to show us the exit.” If they actually understood, she wasn’t sure, but in the next moment, several of them were now pushing on Bex to stand up. “Oh, okay, we’re standing now,�� she said, turning to reach for Mina, but the one holding her hand slapped it away. Pointed at Bex and the other few around her, “We hide with human.” Then pointed at Mina and the crowd around her. “Sister finds us.” And before either could protest, they were hurrying Bex away into the shadows.

Of course Bex would agree to play with the bloody Fae. Mina wanted to just leave, but since that was what was happening, she got to her feet, frowning as half of the group started trying to pull Bex away while the others stayed with her. “No, that’s not--” But it was too late as the diminutive Fae led Bex away, the others staying back with Mina to make sure that she didn’t immediately charge after them. But they didn’t lay out any rules. There was no time limit on finding Bex, which meant that there was no time limit on them keeping Bex. Mina had only asked them not to hurt her; if they didn’t get out of here, Bex could always starve, dehydrate, get injured on her own. However, Mina didn’t have any rules either. She could do whatever she had to in order to find Bex. She looked at the other tommyknockers that remained. “Do you like pie?” she asked, thinking about the food that she’d packed for her and Bex for when they got out of the water. The tommyknockers looked at her the way Morgan and Deirdre’s cats did when they were confused but curious. The little Fae probably didn’t even know what pie was. “It’s very sweet and tasty. If you help me find Bex quickly, I’ll give it to you.” They, at the very least, seemed to know what “sweet” was. Some of them scuttled forward, and the tunnel started shifting, and the ones hanging out around her legs started pushing. Mina didn’t really have a choice. She started walking with them.

The few little critters around her were tugging on her arms and legs, the one that she’d given her hand to holding it tightly. Bex was bent over, lanky legs too tall for her to stand straight with the stony creature gripping her hand. It kept looking back at her, beady red eyes glowing in the shadows of the cavern, and she watched as it waved a hand and the rocks shifted to part for them like curtains. “Oh, you guys can do magic?” she asked, but they didn’t respond, just kept walking. She pondered. “I can do magic, too,” she said, and that seemed to spark something in them. They stopped and turned, looking at her expectantly. “Uh…” she kneeled in front of them, and held out her palms, remembering the things Sai had taught her to manifest her own energy. A little lilac ball of light appeared in her palm after a moment, and the creatures seemed to rejoice. They reached for it, little spindly hands going right through the energy ball. She grinned and let it dissipate, watching as they all went over to a solid section of wall and started shifting it so it parted like a doorway. The one that had been by her side the entire time tugged on her hand again and she followed them over. “What is it?” she asked, looking down. The ones around her all began to grin, and Bex shivered-- as seemingly benevolent as they were, a grin full of crooked, sharp teeth was still mildly terrifying. They began shoving her into the newly made door. “Woah, hey, w-wait, what are you--” The bottom of it sealed up, blocking her legs from moving. “Wait, wait, this isn’t what we agreed to!” One of them put a finger up to its mouth in the universal sign for quiet. “Hide,” said the one that wouldn’t stop staring at her, “Keep.” The last of the doorway sealed up and Bex was in the pitch dark, hands pressed against a space that had once been open. “Fuck…” she mumbled.

“I don’t know if the smaller Fae communicate between… subspecies the way that others do,” Mina said as she followed after the tommyknockers, “but I’ve had run ins with the leprechauns of this area more than once. They don’t really like me much.” A few of them looked at her, but Mina couldn’t tell if they really understood her. One of them kept jumping around her, higher and higher, impressively managing to pull at a strand of her hair. “I can’t blame them. I wasn’t very nice most of the times that we met. I’d really hate for that to happen here.” She felt stupid for subtly threatening creatures that probably didn’t understand subtleties. “I think you’re really going to like pie. I like pie. It’s sweet. Do most Fae like sweet things? I feel like that’s the case with most Fae. You know, you’ll get it faster the sooner we find Bex. Alive. In one piece.” Then, thinking of incentives and the ways that rewards always seemed to work better than threats, she added, “The first one to find her gets the first bite.” She’d compared them to toddlers before, but the tommyknockers really were like a group of young children who were promised candy as they surged forward. They were fast. Mina ran after them.

“Okay,” Bex said to herself again, feeling around the enclosed space she’d been shoved into. She didn’t know exactly what they meant by ‘keep’ but she could hazard a guess. She turned in a circle as her hands felt around blindly for anything-- another hole, something to push, or grab or move. Finally, her hand came across something soft, spongy. It sank into it and she curled her fingers, trying to figure out what it was, before her hand hit something solid again. Different than rock though. A feeling she knew well. Bones. Her hand jerked away and she tried to back up, but her back slammed into the rock that had closed her in. “Okay, I do not want to be part of a human skeleton collection, please!” she banged on the solid wall. “Let me out!” She wasn’t sure if she could be heard. “I’m done playing!” And she certainly didn’t want to know exactly how many skeletons were in this hole with her, or how long it would take her to suffocate and if Mina could get to her in time. If she could only actually astral project herself, she could lead Mina to her, but that skill was still beyond her reach. She needed to get better, be better. She’d work on that right after getting out of this hole.

When no response came from her cries, she shuffled back towards where she’d felt the skeleton. If she was lucky, it’d have something on it to help her dig her way out. She’d just given Mina a promise ring, there was no way she was going to die in a hole in a cave with rotting skeletons. She didn’t find an axe, but a knife. Good enough. She jabbed the blade at the rock. “All I wanted,” a huff, “was one nice day,” another angry stab, “with my girlfriend.” Jab, jab, jab. “Is that really too much to ask!?” The rock in front of her cracked, the anger of her magic rattling the little cave around her. She felt the ridges of it under her fingers, breathed in deep, and let out a yell. Maybe, for once, her uncontrollable magic could be helpful.

It was like Mina was being led in circles. Fae-made circles that kept getting larger and smaller as she followed after the group of tommyknockers. Some of them kept looking back at her more than others, bouncing anxiously. Mina was beginning to wonder if she was the one getting tricked. The thought of it burned in her chest, and she gritted her teeth. So much for Fae solidarity. She felt the scratching of nails against her leg, like an animal trying to get someone’s attention. She stopped, looking down at it. “What?”

“We keep humans, too,” it said, sounding pleased. Then, it cocked its head to the side. “Don’t play long, though.” And Mina’s eyes widened. She needed to find Bex now. Now. Then, she heard a noise coming from the opposite direction of the way that she’d been led, followed by a rumbling, a shifting of earth. The beautifully catastrophic sound of Bex’s magic. The tommyknockers stopped moving, looking at the sound and then at her.

“No deal for the bloody pie,” Mina snarled, realizing that she’d been tricked. The tommyknockers started jumping around her again, complaining, calling out “No! No! No!” Some of them looked genuinely sad, and it struck her that maybe they didn’t realize they’d tricked her. Or maybe not all of them did. They all still thought they were playing. This wasn’t malevolence, though she was sure they could be. There was a part of them that genuinely thought they connected to a part of her, even if she didn’t understand it. To them, Bex wasn’t something to frantically look for. She was just human, and, for once, that wasn’t a good thing. Mina turned in the direction of the noise and started running. “Bex!”

As she pounded at the stone wall in front of her, Bex thanked her lucky stars she wasn’t claustrophobic. She supposed it was a defense mechanism, considering the small space of her closet had sometimes been her only safe place from her mother’s wrath. She tried not to think of that now-- or, actually, no. She let it come. She let the anger she felt for her “mother” and all that she’d done and made her do and she forced it at the wall in front of her. Driving the essence of magic through the blade in her hand as she jabbed at the rock. This was what she got for trusting, wasn’t it? It was always going to be this way. She could quit, she knew that. She could give up her hope and hold her trust close to her heart again, lock herself away. But then she’d just be in a metaphorical hole in a cave wall with skeletons beside her, wouldn’t she? She didn’t want that. The cave rumbled around her, cracking the stone enough to let the tiniest bit of light flare in. The glow of her lilac magic was turning darker as she jammed the knife into the crack. She could hear Mina calling for her now, but instead of responding, she cried out as she pressed her hands against the rock and felt the burn of her magic on her hands as it shattered the rock in front of her and she fell out, landing on a few of the creatures that were guarding the door to their collection. They started tugging at her, trying to pull her away, angry and distressed now. Some of them looked sad, upset. Bex didn’t want to hurt them, and she closed her eyes, projecting as much energy as she could outward and pushing them away as a bubble surrounded her, wavering slowly. It wasn’t strong and it left her exhausted, but it was enough to push them away for now. “Mina?” she finally called out. “Over here!” But she realized, with a start, that even once Mina got to her, they still didn’t know the way out, and at this point, she wasn’t sure they were going to be shown the exit. A problem for later, she supposed, backing away from the creatures until her back hit solid stone again.

“I’m here!” Mina yelled as she turned a corner and encountered Bex with the tommyknockers, the ones that had been with Mina right on her heels. Some of them tried to grab at her, whimpering and chattering and begging for her attention. Mina didn’t really care, though, not about them or what they wanted or whether she was offending them by not following some strange sort of Fae protocol. She wasn’t hesitant in any way as she pushed through the gathering of Fae until she was standing with Bex, her heart pounding. She didn’t particularly give a damn if she stepped on one or two of them. They were in her way, and she wanted them to move. She wanted them to let her out and to not try and take her girlfriend from her again. A part of her wanted to stand in front of Bex, to protect her, but the situation didn’t call for that yet. So, instead, Mina stood beside the younger girl and took her hand, gripping it tightly. She looked at the other Fae. “I found her. I win. We’re done playing, now.”

Bex took Mina’s hand gratefully, letting the small bubble of her energy fade away. She didn’t think she had any authority here, as the group of about fifteen or so stared up at them. “Can you please show us the way out?” she asked, hoping that now that they’d completed the game, they’d oblige. The moved in closer, then, and Bex pressed up against Mina, grabbing her arm to steady herself. She wasn’t prepared to fight, if it came to it. She didn’t want to fight or hurt these little creatures. They hadn’t meant to disturb their home, they just wanted out. But instead of coming for the two girls, a couple of the creatures went to a far wall and began to pry it open. Then, the one that had taken a shine to Bex, grabbed at her hand again, swiping the one that was clasped with Mina’s. “No keep?” it asked, looking up at them with beady eyes, glowing in the shadowy cave. Bex shook her head, but it was looking expectantly at Mina.

There were some things that these creatures just weren’t gonna understand, and Mina was beginning to realize as one of the tommyknockers kept trying to get to Bex. “No,” she said, looking into the creature’s eyes. She was beginning to realize that she had to be a Fae sometimes, as much as she didn’t like it. She bared her teeth, sharp and dangerous, at it for only a moment before saying, “Mine.” And she hated that she had to resort to this, but there was no way for her to get these creatures to understand. That Bex was a person, not a toy to be played with or a thing to be seen as a pet. It was the exact opposite to the way that she’d been raised, and all Mina wanted was to be away from this. Some of the tommyknockers seemed to sense her stormier disposition and started to get away from them, though a few patted at her legs. Mina was mostly human by the time the wall near them was pried open, and she rubbed her free hand over her face. “They’re letting us leave now, right?” she asked Bex quietly.

Bex watched curiously as Mina shifted, sharp teeth snarling at the creatures around them for a moment. Mine. She really shouldn’t have minded that, but it felt less like Mina saying she was hers, and more like an owner claiming their pet. Mina had explained to her how most fae felt about humans, and she supposed even the lesser intelligent ones felt that way, too. She was nothing but a toy to them. She shrunk against Mina and nodded, pushing her towards the exit. She wanted to be out of this cave and back at their pic-nic and maybe just sit at the edge of the river, like she’d originally suggested, and hold her girlfriend and maybe kiss her in the broad daylight. She was done exploring caves, as much as she had found the first part of this rather thrilling.

Finally, daylight broke up ahead and Bex stole one last glance over her shoulder to the shadowed forms of the creatures, before they shut the hole again, as if they’d never been there. Bex glanced around but didn’t recognize where they were. “Are we...back at the falls?” she asked.

Bleary eyed from the fact that she’d been used to a dark cave and pitch black waters, Mina looked around. She didn’t recognize where they were, but, as the tingling sense of other Fae slowly started to Fae, Mina could sense water, freshwater, that was near them somewhere. “I don’t know,” she murmured, and, really, she kind of didn’t care. She turned to Bex and held her tightly. “I was so worried. I didn’t know where you were, and then we ended up running into other Fae of all things, and they just-- they just--” She sighed before laughing, the sound of it tired and higher than normal. “We can’t catch a fucking break, can we?

The hug caught Bex relatively off guard, but she didn’t mind it. She wrapped her arms tightly around Mina and breathed her in. She still smelled like the cave, damp and murky, and stale water. She didn’t mind that either. “I’m okay,” was all she managed to say. And she was, really. Maybe a little bruised and scraped up, but nothing serious. But it could have been serious. Bex thought back to the bones inside the cave walls. How long had they lasted before they’d suffocated? “You found me.” And they always would find each other, Bex truly believed that. It was why she hadn’t been too worried. Somehow, she’d just known. “You know one of these times you’re gonna be the damsel in distress and I’ll get to save you,” she teased, leaning back enough to look into Mina’s eyes. She brushed a wet piece of hair from her face. “We don’t have to let the day be ruined if we don’t want it to be. Somewhere nearby, there’s a pic-nic and a blanket and warm clothes waiting for us. I think I’d really like to be laying on that blanket and kissing my girlfriend under the trees about now, don’t you agree?”

“Duh,” Mina said, trying to keep the conversation lighter even when she was still stressed. “Of course I found you. I’ll always find you. No matter what.” And she would. She would. Wherever Bex was, as long as she still wanted Mina to be there, Mina would always find her. It was just as much of a promise as if she’d said the word. It was one of the few things in life that Mina was completely and utterly sure of. “Does this make me a knight, then, if you’re a damsel in distress? Should I get a sword and shield?” Mina teased back, though her tone sobered as she added, “You have saved me. Never forget that. I wouldn’t be here without you.” She leaned her head into Bex’s hand, enjoying the feel of it on her face, in her hair. Bex was okay. Mina could calm down now. “No, we don’t. That sounds really nice, actually, especially when I don’t have to share our pie with those little bastards.” Mina looked back in the direction that they had escaped from, knowing that there was a tunnel system full of not just tommyknockers but all manner of dangerous beasts lurking just below the surface. Really, they’d gotten off kind of lucky. “I’m sorry that they were like that. I’m sorry they-- they don’t understand. That’s how a lot of Fae are. They just don’t understand.”

Bex rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Yes, you’re my knight in shining armor. And I think one of the fifty-seven knives will do just fine as your sword.” She brushed her thumb along Mina’s cheek, though, and savored the warmth it held even though it was still damp with water. She quieted at the thought, she remembered very clearly what Mina looked like, bleeding out in that grove, mangled leg caught in a trap, hair so stained red Bex hadn’t noticed it was blonde until they’d cleaned her up two days later. Sometimes, when she woke in the middle of the night, it was that version of Mina she saw, and not the peaceful, sleeping one that was actually there. She swallowed down the thoughts and pushed them away. She pulled back to the present and forced a ghostly smile on her face, hoping it would reach her eyes soon. “Hey,” she said softly, grabbing Mina’s face gently between her own, ”it’s okay. I understand. And you’re not like that, I know.” She leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You did what you had to.”

“No, I can’t use those,” Mina said with a mockingly serious expression on her face. “Those are all strategically placed for emergencies.” She saw the look in Bex’s eyes and knew that she was back there at that lake where both of them had nearly died. Sometimes, Mina was back there, too, only Bex was the one that was dying and there was nothing that Mina could do, no way for her to get help. She was useless and couldn’t do anything but watch as Bex was lost to her. Sometimes, though, there was no Bex at all, just Mina, alone in a field and dying, and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. Her smile matched Bex’s: not quite real but trying, desperately trying. “I know you understand, but still. I don’t want you to ever think any of that is how I feel. None of it.” She melted into Bex’s kiss and pressed her forehead into Bex’s when she was done. “I’m yours,” she whispered, but the words were so heavy that they felt loud. “Yours. Okay?” I promise.

Bex felt a shiver race up her spine at the words. It was a silent promise and she wondered if those still counted. Either way, she knew it was true. “I know it’s not, I know,” she repeated quietly, leaned in closer, pressed her body against Mina’s as she kissed her again, harder this time, more intent behind it, as heavy as the words Mina had said. “And I’m yours. Forever.” The one thing Bex knew was true. She was Mina’s and Mina was her’s. Nothing and no one would take them away from each other. Not an angry boy, not a controlling mother, not a cave full of fae creatures. That was why Bex had had those rings made, after all. She didn’t care if it bound her to Mina for all time, that was what she wanted. She was okay with that. She would let herself die in Mina’s arms if that’s what she wanted. When she pulled back, she was panting. “We should maybe move this to a safer spot,” she breathed, stepping back and tugging on Mina’s hand. “C’mon, we made our way out of this forest once, this time oughta be easier.”

Mina held Bex close until she pulled away, and even then she was following after her, their fingers laced together. Bex was hers. She was hers. She was someone that Mina got to keep. Maybe that was the scariest part; she had something, someone, now, and the thought of her getting taken away was too much. That’s what made this scary. She’d always been so afraid of having, of wanting, because of the way that everything got taken away in the end. She didn’t want Bex to get taken away in the end. “Here’s safe. Totally safe, very safe.” But she was already listening for the sound of water, her body prepared to lead her in the direction of something. She could only hope it was Champlain Falls. It was some sort of rushing water. “You’re right, though. You’re right,” she said, tugging on Bex’s hand this time as she started in the direction of where she knew the water was. “There’s water this way.”

“Safer than the cave,” Bex admitted, turning to look back at Mina as she took the lead. Bex let her, following behind her as her senses led them to water. It was really handy, actually, Bex mused as they walked up the muddy path in their bare feet. It must be nice to have an innate sense like that, though she supposed her ability to feel magical energy was something of the like. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to follow it anywhere, like this, though.

After only a few minor slip ups, they made it to a path and back to the top of the falls, where they’d left all their stuff behind after taking the plunge. Bex watched the waterfall as they hiked back up the little slope and wondered what magic properties the earth and water here had absorbed to be able to teleport people to different bodies of water. She wanted to test it out again, but not right now. Maybe not even any time soon. But eventually, she would try.

She raced over and picked up her towel gratefully, wiping down quickly before wrapping herself up in the hoodie she’d brought. Technically it was Mina’s hoodie, but Bex had had it in her closet for longer than Mina, now, probably, and she tugged it on, smiling up at her as she held out her hands. “See? All good, we made it.” She leaned into her and pressed another kiss to her lips, tender and slow. Rolled her lips between her teeth a moment as she moved away, feeling around for the little, black bag she’d brought out earlier. Her heart pounded again as she opened the bag and dumped out the two rings. Maybe the cave had been a test, to see if they could truly find each other, without any help. It had separated them and they’d still found each other, and even after the little fae had tried to tear them apart, too, they had found each other. They always knew. This Bex was sure of. She held up one of the rings. “May I?”

In all honesty, Mina was just glad it was Champlain Falls and not some other body of water that she’d been led to. She wasn’t in the mood for another hike through these woods, lost and unsure, even if the circumstances were better than they had been. She grabbed her own towel as they made it back to their stuff and worked at getting the mud and leaves off of her legs before pulling on a jumper of her own. Mina grinned against Bex’s lips, squeezing her hands before moving to take the sleeve of Bex’s top in between her fingers. It made her feel warm every time she saw Bex in it, knowing that she was wearing Mina’s clothes. And maybe a hoodie wasn’t something that could be automatically recognized as Mina’s, but she knew and, really, that was all that mattered. “We did make it. We did.”

She looked at the rings again, the way the light reflected off of them. It was just as lovely as it had been the first time she’d seen them, the pull that she’d felt to them that had been so, so Fae. It had been such a lovely gift from Bex then, even when she’d started glowing, and it was just a lovely gift, now. One full of so much meaning, too much meaning. And Mina wanted to make sure that Bex knew what that meaning was before she was pulled too far into this. Mina was done for, there was no going back, but always wanted Bex to be able to have that freedom that she hadn’t for so long, even if that meant leaving Mina. She needed to understand what this meant. She took Bex’s hand, the one holding the rings, with both of hers. “When I was younger,” she started, “I didn’t know anything about Fae. Everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from figuring it out on my own or from wardens. But one thing they always made sure I knew was to not abuse promises, to make sure that people didn’t make me promises.” She tapped Bex’s pinky. “Those are binding.” She squeezed Bex’s hand, knowing the rings were there. “These are binding. What they mean is as binding as any words. And— And I want to make sure you know that. And you know I’d release you if you ever changed your mind, but— I just wanted you to know. It’s binding, Bex.”

As Mina took her hands, Bex listened intently. Her heart ached every time she was reminded of how Mina had grown up, the things she’d gone through. The way she was taught to not only hate her species, but herself. Fae weren’t bad, and Mina said she was unlearning those behaviors, and Bex believed her and the cave was proof, even if Mina had been disgruntled the whole time, and she loved her for it. She loved her more each day, somehow. Every time she woke up and saw Mina sleeping beside her, she loved her a little more. So when Mina took her hands, and explained what the rings meant-- Bex knew, she did, maybe not to the extent, but she knew-- she just smiled. “There is nothing in the world that will ever make me stop loving you,” she murmured, her voice soft and quiet, but serious. Sure. “I know how binding fae promises are, remember?” The grove, the trees, Frank. The simple promise they’d made to have a nice date that had been broken for Bex. And the promise Mina had made to not go after Frank. Words that had choked them both. She took her free hand and brought them up to Mina’s, squeezing. “I know it’s binding. I want to do this, give you this. And you can give it to me, too, because I want it. So badly. To be yours. Forever.” She turned her hand over and lifted one of the rings, holding Mina’s. “I want this.”

“Okay,” Mina said softly, and if she was tearing up a bit, then she didn’t really understand why. She was happy. There wasn’t any reason for her to be crying, but she felt the sting of it building behind her eyes. She blinked it away. She wanted this. She wanted it so badly. This, someone, Bex, it wasn’t something that she’d ever thought she would have. It certainly wasn’t something that she thought she deserved. She had been a child, and all that she’d ever seen of two people that cared about each other were the few hunters that she and her dad had worked with. Sometimes, they were either too professional with each other. Other times, they were so intense that she’d had to look away. But, most of the time, she never saw a pair. One of them was always gone, leaving the other in a constant state of mourning. Losing someone meant losing yourself, and Mina had been grateful to think that she’d never get that, if only because she didn’t know how she’d recover. And now she had someone, and Bex was someone who wanted forever. Bex was someone that Mina could lose, and she was someone that would make Mina a shell if she was gone. This would make that real. Except it was already real. They had already all but promised each other. With one hand, Mina took one of the rings while she held out her other hand for Bex. “I want this, too.”

Promise rings felt like a strange concept to Bex, even though she was the one who had made them. When Bex was a child, the only future she had seen for herself was a gauche diamond ring that some rich boy had bought her, while she suffered in silence and pretended she could be what they wanted. It was all she’d ever been allowed to imagine, all she ever allowed herself, because dreaming of otherwise, thinking of otherwise was dangerous. It would just hurt. But then she’d met Mina, and suddenly, a future other than that was possible, was visible. When Bex closed her eyes, all she could see was a future with Mina. All she wanted was a future with Mina. She felt her own eyes welling up when she saw the twinkle in Mina’s, but she just took her hand gratefully-- her right hand. Promise rings went on the right with the hope of moving it over, but that, too, was an old-fashioned concept Bex didn’t know how she felt about-- and slid the ring on her ring finger, before holding out her own hand. She felt like she was vibrating, but her hand was steady, and she looked into Mina’s eyes and made sure with just her glance that she knew how much she wanted this.

Mina flexed her fingers for a moment, looking at the ring and then at Bex. “I love you.” Then, she took Bex’s right hand and slipped the ring on her ring finger. There wasn’t really any sort of change in the way that she felt, no sort of promise sliding into place. It was like it had always been there, always lingering in her chest, her head. She felt settled in the best way, like all of the messy pieces in her heart were slowly falling together. She didn’t want to lose this. She couldn’t lose this. Mina leaned forward and kissed Bex, soft and slow. She pulled away smiling, happy. So happy. She was so, so happy. “So, we’re still making this a good day, right? What do we want to do to make it a good day?”

“I love you, too,” Bex said back into the kiss, and she clasped their hands and felt the smooth resin of the ring on her own and on Mina’s and it made her heart flutter and her head grow light and if she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve sworn she was floating. But Mina kept her grounded, and for once, the energy flowing inside of her felt good and warm and little sparks of purple trickled from her fingertips as she pulled away from Mina. That was new. “Sorry,” she mumbled, lowering her hands in case something happened. She looked at Mina and felt herself relaxing, because today was a good day, even with the little cave mishap. “It’s already been a good day, you know. Any day I spend with you is a good day.” She leaned back in, lettinger her hands circle around Mina’s neck to pull her in closer. “Buuuut…” she mused, “I think we can make today great. I think we should lay right here and enjoy the nice weather and maybe each other. I think I’ve had enough water for today.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Mina said, laughing a little. Bex’s magic always felt warm to her, nice. She liked seeing it, and she liked the way it felt against her skin, even if she didn’t want Bex to overextend herself by using too much of it. It was nice to see, though, and it was nice to watch Bex become more and more comfortable in her own skin. She wrapped her arms around Bex’s waist. “We could make it great. I think we could definitely make it great. I mean, I brought pie. That’s just super great. Who knows what could top that?” But, really, Mina couldn’t care less about the pie anymore. Even if it was cherry. And homemade. And had still been a little warm when she’d packed it earlier. But Bex was a lot more important than pie, and Mina kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again just to prove that. Even if she could have gone back into the water; not jump off the waterfall again, but just… enjoy the water. But that was just what she was. Mina didn’t want to be in the water; she just wanted to be with Bex.

Bex felt a sense of safety around Mina with her magic. It was often volatile and hard to control and eruptive, but it never felt that way with Mina, even when she had to use it or it came out in spurts. Maybe that was the real magic, that Mina could calm her down enough to where she actually felt a sense of attachment to her magic. Because it had saved them, saved her, when she’d needed it most, and it had brought her back to Bex when they’d been lost in the caves. Bex smiled against Mina’s lips. “I can think of at least one thing that’s better than pie,” she grinned, tugging Mina down as she sat on the blanket they’d laid out, kissing her the whole way down. She ran her hands through Mina’s wet hair and decided that, if later, Mina wanted to swim, she would go swim with her. Stick her feet in, at the very least. She’d do whatever the girl she loved wanted. And maybe that was enough for now. No, it was more than enough. The metal ring on her finger proved it. She’d given her everything to Mina-- her heart, her soul, her mind-- and Mina had accepted it. What more could a girl want?

“Only one?” Mina asked, her voice a soft murmur. She leaned over Bex, nudging her into laying down. “I can probably think of several.” She brushed her thumb against Bex’s cheek. It was impossible to forget the feeling of the ring on her finger, it’s pressure foreign and comforting at the same time. It was terrifying how quickly she could get used to this. A part of her knew it was bad enough to want it, to crave it. But to get used to it, to be comfortable, that was something new and potentially terrible. This wasn’t going away. Bex was stuck with her for now, for better or for worse, and even if she wanted it now, there was always the chance that things could change. Mina was always afraid that things could change. She laced their fingers together. She kissed Bex hard before pulling away abruptly. “Maybe you should tell me about this one thing that’s better than pie. I’m curious. I want to know.”

“I said at least one thing,” Bex corrected, but she wasn’t really paying too much attention anymore as Mina leaned over her. She laid down, feeling the uneven ground beneath the blanket and through her hoodie, but at this moment, nothing could distract from those eyes and those lips and the feel of her skin against Bex’s. Kissing her back just as hard, wondering if Mina’s heart was also pounding as hard as hers, and somehow knowing it was. Bex nearly whined when she pulled away abruptly and her head flopped to the ground. She was already flushed and warm with Mina on top of her as a smile curled up her lips. Broad and genuine and just a little teasing. “Well…” she pondered, chewing on her bottom lip, rolling it slowly through her teeth, “it’s this really great thing, you see. Where two people get together, and they sort of--” she paused, as if contemplating what to say next, running her tongue over her lips-- “play with each other. Some could even call it an ‘exercise’.” She motioned air quotes, even while her fingers were laced with Mina’s. “I just prefer to call it an activity. I can show you how to do it, if you’re curious.”

It was hard for Mina to pay attention to anything other than watching Bex’s lips as they moved. “Right, of course. Play. Like a game, yes? That might be fun.” She leaned in a little closer, her eyes closing. One of her hands moved from Bex’s to tangle in the younger girl’s hair. “Or exercising. I like exercising. We could go for a run? Or play some football? That’s two birds with one stone. A game and exercise.” She grinned. “I’d even call it an activity, wouldn’t you? A fun activity.” She pulled back again, shifting her weight until she was resting on her heels. “But I’m very curious about your activity. I don’t mind if you show me. Actually, I think you should. I might learn something, right?” Maybe this was the most Fae that Mina could be. Mischievously teasing her human girlfriend while they were making out after escaping a cave full of tommyknockers. Honestly, Mina was surprised that Bex hadn’t already asked her all of the details about the little creatures. Usually, she was more curious than this. But maybe she’d just been distracted. Mina knew that she’d been distracted.

“Yes, but it’s a special game,” Bex corrected, “different from normal games like that. It’s so different, we don’t even have to move from this spot.” She couldn’t help it, she liked it when Mina teased her like this. It was such a different side of her to see, and Bex loved it. Sometimes she felt like she craved it, craved her. Her lips, her eyes, her hands on Bex’s skin. It felt almost painful to not have it, in those intense moments where all Bex wanted was for Mina to touch her. And as curious as she was about the cave dwelling fae, there were more important things that were clouding her mind and making her forget herself except for what was in this moment. She reached up and tugged on Mina’s shirt collar, fingers folding into fabric as she pulled her back down on top of her, brushing her lips along Mina’s jaw. “Well first,” she murmured into her ear, “you have to stay right here.” She took Mina’s hand that was clenched in hers and moved it up slowly to rest on her chest. “Then, you put your hands on me. Like here,” slowly moved it down to her stomach, “and here. And…” she let go of her hand, “anywhere else you feel like it. Because I’m yours,” she breathed, “all yours.” She lifted her head enough to press her lips to Mina’s, savoring the sweet taste of them. “The only rule is you have to keep kissing me,” she grinned.

“This sounds like a fun game,” Mina said, breathless. And she didn’t want to play anymore, didn’t want to tease as Bex pulled her down, pulled her close. “That’s a-- I can do that, that’s an easy rule.” And so she did, kissing Bex and touching her, taking off the hoodie that had only just been put on. It was in the way. There was too much separating them. All Mina wanted was to keep touching Bex, to never let go. “Mine,” she said, and the word was soft, reverent. It wasn’t like in the cave, where she’d had to be stern to get a point across that Bex wasn’t to be touched by the other Fae. Now, she was just incredulous, unable to really believe this. She didn’t want to lose this. She couldn’t lose this. She couldn’t. Her heart was pounding, she felt flushed. This was hers. It was hers. She had this. It was hers. And she was Bex’s. Always, always, forever. The rings were a promise of forever, and Mina could feel it, then, burning into her skin. Forever.

Mine. The one word sent chills through Bex, making her skin feel like it was on fire under Mina’s touch. They had made love plenty of times before, but something felt different this time. It settled under Bex’s skin, like a familiar memory that had always existed. She felt it wrap around her heart and her ribs and the rest of her bones, her muscles, weaving into her being just as essentially as her magic. And the sound of it, their love, their bodies coming together, was lost to the roar of the waterfall next to them, except to their own ears. Bex’s hands clawed along Mina’s bare skin, taking her all in, letting it settle, really settle, in her mind that this was hers forever. Forever. It seemed like so long and maybe forever was only a few more years, but it was hers, and she’d take it. She’d take it because it was all she ever wanted. “I’m yours,” Bex had breathed into Mina’s neck, damp with sweat, hands tangled in her hair, across her back. “Forever.” Lips gliding across the skin there. “No matter what.” And she hoped those words bound themselves into their promise, too. The frightening prospect of it making her giddy and flushed. She’d never known fear could feel good like this. She had so much left to discover, and she wanted Mina there for every step.

And when the sun began to dip beyond the horizon and they were still tangled naked in each other’s arms, Bex whispered, “I’ll never leave you.” She’d die first before ever even considering it, but she left that part out.

It was getting dark. Only the sound of the waterfall and Bex’s breathing really reached Mina’s ears as she curled up next to Bex, their legs tangled and her head resting on Bex’s chest. The steady beat of Bex’s heart filled Mina’s ears, soothing her. It was getting dark, and they were out in the woods, but Mina could stay like this, if she was given the chance. She moved up and kissed Bex’s lips softly at those words. She didn’t want Bex to leave her, and it was a terrifying concept, to think that she wouldn’t even if Mina thought that she should. Because Bex might call Mina stubborn, but that was like the pot calling the kettle black. They were both rather obstinate at times. Too obstinate, really. Mina could acknowledge that. Smiling softly, she said, “Well, good because I don’t want you to go.” She grabbed one of the other blankets and pulled it over them. She just wanted to lay down, if only for a moment, tangled up with the girl that she loved. They could get up, maybe eat the food she’d packed, maybe get back in the water, maybe leave. Later. They could do that later. For now, though, she wanted to just lay there. Mina settled, putting her face in Bex’s neck and breathing slowly, one hand moving up to stroke Bex’s hair.

Bex trailed fingers down Mina’s back and across her shoulders as she lay on her chest. Her weight felt nice, bringing Bex back down from the high she’d just experience. Honestly, she wanted to feel it again, go back to that light place, but this was just as nice, really. Laying with the girl she loved. She lifted her hand enough to look at the ring on her finger. The promise of forever, consummated under the evening sky. Her skin prickled again as Mina moved up to kiss her, and she watched lazily as a blanket was draped across them. The sun hanging just above the treeline but Bex had no worries or fear this time-- the dark didn’t need to frighten her anymore. She let Mina settle back into the crook of her neck and turned onto her side, just slightly, to reach over and circle her with both arms, holding her loosely. Laying here with Mina felt so right, so natural, she wondered how she could have ever questioned it, how she could have ever left her. Her heart skipped a beat, thumping against her ribs. “I’m not going anywhere. You know I’d never leave you on purpose, right? I never wanna hurt you like that again.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Mina said contentedly. She kissed Bex’s jaw before leaning up and looking at her, enjoying the softness, the easiness between them. Because that’s what this was, what it had always been. Something soft and easy, even when it had been so, so hard. Falling for Bex was as easy as breathing, as shifting. She’d only ever fought against it because it was something that she didn’t understand. She knew why Bex had left; that was something that she could understand, something that made sense to her, even if she hated it. Bex had gone because she thought she was protecting her. It hadn’t worked in the end, but that had been the thought behind it. Mina would probably leave, too, if she thought it would keep Bex safe. But she had no intention of doing that. It would be hard to keep Bex safe from a distance, after all. “And I know you don’t. I know that. I trust you. More than anyone, ever.” She did. She really, really did. She trusted Bex enough that she tried to talk to her about things, even though it was hard and she never knew how. And she trusted Bex enough that she tried to tell her about whatever she could because she knew that information and knowledge were some of the things that Bex valued most. She trusted Bex enough that she stopped shifting back immediately every time her scales made an appearance, even if it was strange to her and she still didn’t know how to feel about it. “I trust you.”

Bex surrendered to the look in Mina’s eyes, letting go quietly of the guilt she’d been holding onto for so, so long. She’d known she was breaking Mina’s heart when she’d left, and every excuse in the book didn’t change that fact. She’d known she was in love with her before she’d even left, but she’d denied it, denied herself, because it was just too terrifying. She reached up and brushed her knuckles along Mina’s cheek, fingers skating along the skin of her jaw before she placed her palm flat against her face, caressing it. “Thank you,” she said, and she felt safe saying those words to Mina, because she knew she’d never use them against her. Just like their promise or their deals, she knew Mina would never hurt her. Not on purpose. She felt the guilt unwind itself from her body, finally, and maybe she felt just a little more sure in herself, in that maybe she did deserve this one good thing, if only this. Maybe she had suffered this long to balance out the intensity of this heat that she felt for Mina, from Mina. It choked her, sometimes, but she’d rather drown in this ecstasy than let go of it again. She pressed her forehead to Mina’s. “I trust you, too. Completely.” And then she kissed her again, soft and slow at first, before she kissed her harder and rougher and more intensely. Finally, she thought, finally something she got to keep.

It was hard for Mina not to immediately tell Bex not to thank her. But they’d gone way beyond thank yous and deals and promises. They owed each other too much. They’d given each other too much. And it wasn’t like Mina knew how to use Bex’s thank yous against her. If anything, Bex was more likely to accidentally cash in on Mina’s. Mina leaned into Bex’s hand more firmly, nodding. She accepted the thanks. She wasn’t offended by it, she had no intentions to misuse it. And Maybe that made her a bad Fae. A lot of things about Mina made her a bad Fae. But she didn’t care about any of that. She just cared about this girl, and this moment, and this forever. Even if she still had trouble believing in that, and even if she knew that her forever probably wouldn’t give her five more years. She melted into Bex’s kiss, her hands moving to hold Bex’s face as she leaned over and moved to straddle her. Their legs were still tangled together. She would do anything to be able to hold onto this moment forever, to fall into it and stay before something else happened. “I’m always going to love you,” Mina said, pulling away just enough to say the words. “Okay? No matter what.” She tapped Bex’s ring with hers. “Forever.”

There wasn’t much left for Bex to say now that hadn’t already been said, either with their words, or with their touches. And yet, there was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted Mina to know that she meant every word, she wanted her to know that even if Bex went out and did stupid things, she would always come home to her. She wanted Mina to know that she thought about her all the time, that she would do anything to keep her, and keep her safe. That she would die for her. She would, she would. But none of those words were able to make themselves up her throat as she kissed Mina and she felt the heaviness of them lift off her heart, her heart that hadn’t been working right but was still so ready to beat quickly for Mina. Bex nodded, eagerly, pulling Mina back to her. “I know,” she breathed, and it terrified her, just a little, to know that even if she hurt Mina again like she had, Mina would still love her. And in the years after Bex passed-- because she had to face it, even with what Mina did, Bex was human and she was reckless and she was going to die first-- Mina would still love her. “I should be so lucky,” she murmured against Mina’s lips. And she burned with want for her again, and she wondered if that feeling would ever stop-- and she hoped, even more so, that it never did.

#chatzy #chatzy: mina #wickedswriting #leap of faith #domestic abuse tw

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tatticstudio55 · 4 years

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Jon and Dany – both beyond the Wall at the end?

DAY SEVEN (Sunday, August 2nd) Leadership | Free Choice | DoS: Royal Retirement / Passing the Torch

This is less meta-ish and borders more on the speculative side, but I’d like to discuss a Jon and Dany (potential) ending I’ve never seen anyone talk about before: them ending both beyond the Wall, living with the free folks/as free folks. So, basically, the ending Jon got on the show, but with Dany by his side. I would even go as far as to say that the showrunners might have considered it.

This is not by any means “my ideal” Jonerys ending. That would be Jon and Dany settling on Dragonstone with a bunch of targlings and wild dragons. I do not, alas, think this is where the story is going. I do not expect either (or both) of them on the IT either. On the other hand, an ending with them both beyond the Wall seems to me like it could work with the overall story. There is already some book evidence/foreshadowing pointing to Jon’s endgame there, notably in ASOS when he (forgive my French) “finds himself” beyond the Wall:

“On the edge of the haunted forest, where the tents had been, Jon found an oakwood stump and sat.

Ygritte wanted me to be a wildling. Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? The sun crept down the sky to dip behind the Wall where it curved through the western hills. Jon watched as that towering expanse of ice took on the reds and pinks of sunset.

[…]

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . . he could feel it. It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.

It was a long moment before he understood what was happening. When he did, he bolted to his feet. "Ghost?" He turned toward the wood, and there he came, padding silently out of the green dusk, the breath coming warm and white from his open jaws. "Ghost!" he shouted, and the direwolf broke into a run.

[…]

He had his answer then.” Jon XII, ASOS

Dany is more of a wild card, but even the show gave us SOME reasons to believe that D&D played with the idea at some point: the pregnancy bait, Dany’s comment in 7x07 about King’s Landing and how “constrictive” the Dragonpit felt, Dany’s “we could stay here a thousand years. No one would find us” line in 8x01. Most importantly, back when I was watching season 7, this is the impression I was getting (from the showrunners):

Dany is a good person at heart, but she would not make a good queen nor would she like being queen.

I do not wholly agree with this, especially if we are talking about bookDany, who would make – and is – a much better queen than she is given credit for, but it looked to me like this is where the show was going with her. Or, at least, this is the message they were trying to communicate. They were not trying to “hide” Dany’s dark turn from the audience by making her or trying to make her bad-good-bad-good-bad-good, they simply had another endgame in mind for the character. I do not want to make this about the show but had to get this out of the way.

Now onto bookDany:

A while ago, I posted a meta where I discussed a pattern in Daenerys’s story: twice she succeeded at something magical, highly dangerous and related to dragons, and twice after she ended up in a desertic environment, thirsting, starving and nearly dying from exposition. Following the rule of 3 (which is especially predominant in her arc), it will probably happen again and – since there is no Great Grass Sea in Westeros – the “desertic environment” swallowing her afterward will be the frozen lands beyond the Wall. It could mean that she will die there, but it could also mean that she will simply disappear there. Her fate could also be revealed to the reader while remaining unknown to most characters. This would fit with Dany’s current representation in the story so far: she is an enigma, a rumor; nobody really knows her whereabouts, who she is, what she is, what she wants, what she has, if she is even real.

There are numerous parallels to be drawn between Daenerys and Mance Rayder, which I covered here. I would love the irony of Dany coming to Westeros thinking she is reclaiming her family’s lands, only to settle in the only part that was never conquered by the Targaryen. There is the (disputable, ok, but) fact that the only region in all of the continent where dragons could turn up useful for tree planting would be beyond the Wall (so frozen soil can be thawed and warmed up for plants to grow there again). Martin hung a pretty riffle on the metaphorical Wall when Silverwing refused to fly across in Fire and Blood. There is this pattern of wildling women making up Jon’s romantic prospects; first a wildling “commoner” (Ygritte), then a wildling “princess” (Val), then a wildling “queen” (Dany, eventually, if this theory proves to be correct). So of course, you will ask –

If this is Martin’s intended ending, why couldn’t the d’s just go with it?

Well, because the d’s never gave Dany any incentive to go beyond the Wall, apart from a brief rescue mission back in season 7. If Dany must end up there, something has got to bring her there and the show scrapped or discarded all of it : no Lands of Always Winter, no curtain of light, no this, no that, no nothing. And once she gets there in the books, because I am quite sure she will, she will not come back. The North is Dany’s ultimate destination. No yoyoing back and forth North and South like what the show did. That was just dumb. Travel time and distances should mean something, even if you have dragons (plus, Dany’s armies would have to travel on foot, horseback or by boat, like everybody else). The closest of yoyoing we have ever gotten in asoiaf was probably with Catelyn, it spanned three books, and she never made it back North anyway.

Did the d’s consider going with that ending? They might just. The clues were certainly there (see above…) but at some point, they must have realized that it would not work with the hole they had dug themselves in.

Now about the elephant in the room

I know some people will think that Dany ending beyond the Wall does not make much sense for her story, which technically (so far) does not have much to do with the lands beyond the Wall. In a way, I agree. Some people would also find such an ending anticlimactic to her arc and a waste after everything she has learned about leadership and politics in Meereen. I also agree. On a watsonian level, an ending with, say, Dany as a queen in Westeros – I think it works. Of course, I do. Where it does not work is on a doyalist level. Dany already had her arc of becoming queen. She achieved that by the end of book 3. Then she had to learn all the nit and gritty and dirty work of ruling over the rubble of a corrupt system while trying to make the lives better for everyone. If Dany becomes queen in Westeros, the same thing will happen again. Different setting, different people, same story. Some people have criticized the underlying message of Dany’s fight against slavery as “only a preparation” for what comes next in Westeros, saying it would undermine the real value of Dany’s work in Essos. I agree. However, the same problem applies if Dany becomes queen in Westeros: then her time in Essos is reduced to a prop up, a preparation, as if ruling Essos were somewhat less important than ruling Westeros. Furthermore, I cannot imagine an ending where Dany, still in possession of significant military forces – significant enough to secure her a crown, anyway – could choose to settle in Westeros without being plagued with guilt over leaving Essos’s slaves behind. I am sorry, I just cannot.

This is also, I think, where part of the “Dany is not a peace time queen” mentality comes from. Dany will never be a peace time queen, not because she prefers war, or because she does not want peace, but because what she is trying to achieve, in these times and places, means a lifetime of war. You cannot undo and rebuild an entire system that is rotten at its core in a single lifetime (heck, even show!Tyrion said this to her, for what the show is worth now…), much less in a few years. Dany is not a peace time queen because she is not a queen that is interested in maintaining the statue quo. At least that is how her time in Meereen revealed her. Arya would not be a peace time queen either. Jon would not be a peace time king. They could never be, less they abandoned their ideals and their ethics for a more comfortable life.

Then you might say that an ending where Dany goes back to Essos works too. It does – once again, on a watsonian level. What is the problem with this on a doyalist level? It turns Dany into a deus ex machina, coming to Westeros just in time to save it, then leaving it right after, as if neither the Others, nor her had ever been there.

The two remaining options are: either she dies a queen in Westeros, most likely during the Great War, or… the queen, Daenerys Targaryen, dies, while Dany lives.

That means that all reasonable possibilities, or choices, to keep on fighting as a queen are taken from her. Maybe her forces were severely depleted during the Great War. Maybe her dragons died. Maybe both. Maybe her function, not as an individual, but as a character in a specific story called A song of ice and fire, was to destroy an old system (AND to inspire others to follow in her footsteps, ensure that her efforts were not in vain, that the first steps will not go wasted, that the work she started will be taken up by other peoples, and others after them, and others after), not to rebuild the new one. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. Frodo Baggins’ role in The Lord of the Rings was to destroy something evil. His gardener Sam was the one who planted the trees and went on to become a mayor afterward. One was a destroyer and the other was a builder, but in the end, they were both heroes.

Not to mention that Frodo did not die at the end. You could say that he went on to live beyond the Wall too.

#ADOS speculation #jonerysweek2020 #jonerysweek #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #jonerys #bookjonerys

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mrs-i-have-too-many-biases · 4 years

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Bang Chan// Sun and Moon (-light)// Chapter one

Summary: Sun and Moon, different from another, but both unmissable in the world. The sun is warm, it provides daylight. It represents life, strength and growth. The moon, the brightest and largest object in our night sky. It makes the earth more livable and represents admiration, change, mystery and feelings. The sun is untouchable and unreachable, but what if his ,independent, sun(-shine) becomes his world? Tropes: Enemies to Lovers Season: Spring Pairing: Bang Chan X Reader AU: | Delinquent!Female Reader | Vice President!Bang Chan | School!AU | Non!Idol AU | Genre: Fluff/ Angst Word Count: 6,9K Warnings: Themes of bullying, Themes of Abuse, swearing, insults, Requested: Yes (Reference) A/n: For the sake of the fiction, Chan is a twat in the story, but only for imagines purposes only. We all know better than that.

Christopher bang.

Or Bang Chan for those who are close to him. A young man who has the world in his hands. That’s how every one else would describe him. Chan was seen as the definition of perfect. Came from a well and wealthy family, had multiple medallions from the swimming competitions he had won as a child. Making him very well known around town and athletic as well. At school, mister perfect a top-class student and was the pride of the school. And because of that he became vice president. The teachers loved him and so did the students, but who wouldn’t Chan’s just so loveable.

Well, jokes on you because Y/n didn’t.

She’s was known as a delinquent, a trouble maker or a bitch which was what most girls called her. She was mysterious and people didn’t seem to like that. She owns a motor, which she got in trouble for with school, since they didn’t want to allow it, but they couldn’t find a valuable reason for that. Y/n had tattoos decorating her arms, as far as people know. Some made rumours that she had her whole body tattooed and that she covered it up with foundation to look ‘decent’. For this reason Y/n got a bucket of water dunked over her head. In in her infortune, it rained that day so everyone made it seem like she got drenched because of that and not because of the delusional students sadly attended the school. Besides the students not liking Y/n, were the teachers also not very fond of her. Her grades were average and If not that it was below it. If they could send her off school they would’ve loved to.

Y/n would usually just ignore the comments and the stares and go on minding her own business. She would hang around with her ‘clique’, which were basically these outsider-kids who didn’t really had a standard circle of friends and found comfort in one another whenever they needed each other. Y/n was glad she was part of it, but yet again, those students found her quite intimidating. So most of Y/n’s days, she would sit outside, secretly smoking a cigarette whilst drawing away. She didn’t mind at all being alone, she actually quite liked it. I mean who wouldn’t prefer quite and sunlight over annoying comments and mean stares?

Anyways, besides Chan and Y/n being so different from one another, they had one thing in comment: they couldn’t get along. They never did and they probably never will. Y/n had always found Chan a stuck-up rich kid who was arrogant with his head up his ass. Chan never understood Y/n. She was always in defence and she never wanted to be close to anyone. They have known each other since kinder garden and the teachers back then already knew that the two of you weren’t destined to be around each other.

Sadly, the universe had other plans for the two of you, since you spend most of you time with each other at school. Ending up in the same classes, going to the same school, being paired up together for projects and just in general being around each other. She found him bossy, since he was the vice president, and she didn’t liked to be bossed around. This made her not interfere into his businesses. And so far, that plan went well and the universe hadn’t screwed with that plan, yet.

Since Chan was the vice president, she, as a delinquent, faced him a lot, especially in your senior year. When she had a bad grade, she would be told to go and see Chan and look for a way to get her grades up. She got into a fight, go to Chan. She would look at someone the wrong way, go to Chan. She would be quite and minding her own business in class, go to Chan. It drove both of them crazy, but they couldn’t fight the teachers, they really wanted to, but they couldn’t. Chan because of his reputation and Y/n as well, but her reason was more the kind of ‘they already don’t like me so whatever’ kind of reason.

She would get scolded and receive a scripted ‘motivational’ speech, after a while she would just stare at something behind him and look at the birds, completely ignoring his presents. When he would be done, she would just shrug and walk past him. With a sigh and an eye roll he would pack up his stuff and leave as well, getting tired of this shit. He didn’t wanted to waste his breath on another useless speech on her, since he knew that she wouldn’t even bother to listen. He was done with her attitude, she loved messing with him every now and then though.

When he had to ‘scold’ her in public she would start straight up flirting with him and he never knew how to feel about it. “Y/n, we need to talk about your grades.” He would say. “What’s up honey.” She would joke, making every girl snap their heads towards her, so they could glare at her. “I-I, you need to get your grades up.” Chan stuttered, taken back by the comment, as he looked down to his feet. “And I need you too look up here Champ, my eyes are up here you know.” She would smirk when she saw the boy turning a shade of bright red.

The girls would huff and sulk when the teacher walked in as they were about to attack Y/n for her boldness.

Y/n like messing with Chan to see if he would snap in front of the others one day. Yes, the idea was pretty mean, but she just couldn’t stand the whole act that he was pulling up, as if he was the only person in the world without flaws. She couldn’t deny that he wasn’t attractive, he was, but she couldn’t see herself falling for a smart ass like him. He wanted to be perfect, but she happened to know that no one was perfect.

Y/n had her music blasting through her earphones as she walked through the school. Her blouse not tucked into her jeans and her bag loosely hanging off her shoulder. A poker face was spread over her face as she stared into nothing, whilst making her way to class. There were cuts and bruises covering her body, making people whisper and stare at her as she passed them. She ignored the stares and filtered out the whispers with her favourite song overpowering the irrelevant voices.

She knows what they thought.

‘She must have fought someone again.’ ‘I bet she started it.’ ‘She looks like she would.’

When she arrived to her seat, she didn’t bother to take out her earphones as she mindlessly looked out of the window, blocking everyone around her out. Sometimes, people liked to try and mess with her, to see if she would actually snap.

“You are the proof that God has a sense of humour!” One of the guys would yell. “You only chance of getting laid is to move up a chicken’s butt and wait.” Another added, receiving a roaring laughter from the other. “I’m not saying I hate you, but I would plug out your life support to charge my phone!” A girl joined the insult party as well. “You know, I would insult you, but it looks like your face is one already by itself.” A voice, from a bitch name Sooyun, yelled. The whole class started to laugh and Y/n slowly, but intimidatingly, turned her head to the group of four. Blankly staring at them as she raised an unimpressed eyebrow, before taking out her earphones as it was almost time for the class to begin, also showing them that she wasn’t listening at all to their bullshit.

“Guys, don’t waste your breath on her. You know what happens.” Chan’s voice filled the room and Y/n saw him sit next to Sooyun whilst slyly smirking. Sooyun and Chan had known each other since freshman year, both of their parents were rich. And they actually lived from across another in a different apartment complex. Sooyun was an only child and absolutely spoiled rotten by her parents. She never really talked about it. She was a so called ‘humble brag’.

‘Oh, I’m sorry I’m late, someone blocked my tesla, I couldn’t leave.’

Just dumb things like that would make Y/n roll her eyes intensely and groan internally as she wanted to throw yourself out of the school window to get away from her. Everybody knew that she was head over heals for Chan. The rumour was going around that she even randomly showed up to his place to try and ‘hang out’. Everybody knew of Sooyun’s feelings towards Chan, except the man himself. He was absolutely oblivious to the fact that she had a fat crush on him. Through the years, Chan started to bleach his hair blonde. One day suddenly, Sooyun as well arrived to school with a new blonde hairdo that matched Chan’s.

Some of the students cringed, some supported the so called ‘ship’ and others like Y/n pitied the poor girl for her desperation.

Even though, Sooyun had her own clique of popular kids, who ‘always’ got her back, and loved to insult Y/n with new found comments they had probably gotten off reddit. They knew that Y/n wasn’t afraid to throw hands. So, when Y/n shot up from her seat after the insult party, she saw the group jump in panic and shot their glances to anywhere else but towards Y/n. She then would just calmly fix her shirt and jeans and sit back down with a slight smirk, hearing the huffs coming from Sooyun’s side of the class.

‘They always bark, but they never bite.’ Y/n thought to herself as she shook her head as the class started.

Later through the class, Y/n rolled her eyes when she saw Sooyun talking with the teacher who then later shot Y/n a worried expression. She knew what was about to happen. And there she was, after class, ‘listening’ to Chan’s useless rant on how she needed to lose her attitude.

“… just leave the girl alone Y/n.” Chan sighed, knowing she hadn’t heard half of the things he had just said to her. “Who?” “Sooyun, who else?” Chan snapped, looking at her in annoyance. “How sweet, you’re protecting your little girlfriend.” She mocked with a pout playing on her lips. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He said in defence. “You tell her that.” Y/n muttered under her breath, before hearing Chan hum in confusion. “Just stop being so fucking annoying and get some grip on yourself. Just because you think you’re cool and mysterious, doesn’t make it people like you.” Chan groans in frustration because he knew that he wouldn’t get through her.

“Whatever.” Was all she said to him as she plugged her earphone back into her ear, the music already blasting for her as she walked pass Chan to exit the room. “Just stop wasting my time!” Chan yelled after her, but she was already out of sight.

Y/n walked into the District 9 Tattoo Parlour, being greeted by Hyunjin with a bright smile.

“Hey Y/n! Here for another appointment?” Hyunjin asked before he looked up to you. When he did, he was in shock to see all the bruises and cuts on your body. He looked at her worried and she assured her that she was fine. “Did you get into a fight or something?” He asked as he slightly inspected some of the wounds. “Yeah.” She lied. “Did you kick their ass?” He asked with a slight smirk. “Of course I did.” She added to the lie as Hyunjin laughed.

“I bet you’re here for Changbin, he’s still with a client but you can go back there.” Hyunjin smiles as he goes back to work. “Thanks Jinnie! Say hi to Kkami for me!” She smiles before she disappears after a door that lead to Changbin’s corner.

He had loads of neon led lights as decoration. The vibe was kind of like the nightlife, which Changbin was all in for, especially as an underground rapper. “Hi Binnie!” She cheered after she had announced her presence. “Hello there Dumpling.” Changbin smirked as he hugged her side, giving the man who he was inking a little break. “What did I say about that name.” She whined before she took a seat on the couch in the room. “Sorry. I meant steamed bun-“ “Bin!” “You love me.” He laughed before sending her a kissy face, receiving a groan from her and a roaring laughter of the man who was still waiting for the Changbin to finish the inky artwork. “You two sound like my wife and I and we’ve been married for almost twenty years.” The man laughs, but soon was cut off by a hiss as Changbin started to carve the skin again.

The two of them heard it a lot. They acted and looked like a couple and they usually were too lazy or hadn’t had the heart to break the news to a random elderly couple that the two of them weren’t dating. They would gush over their connection and your relationship. Friends and family knew better though, like Hyunjin. Even though he would still joke about the fact that the two of them should just date, he knew that there was nothing going on between Y/n and Changbin.

The pair met for the first time when Y/n came by to set a tattoo and pierce her ears for the first time. Hyunjin was the one who introduced her to Changbin since Hyunjin worked at a different shop at the time. He loved the vibe Changbin owned and eventually decided to work alongside from him. Changbin loved that she could have some banter with him and the rest was history.

Changbin had been her best friend for years now. He wasn’t someone who judged her based on her image. He loved that she had piercings and tattoos decorating your body. He placed almost all of the on her. He knew that she had a rough childhood. Her mother running away from her and her father, leaving Y/n with an alcoholic and abusive person who dared to call himself a father. Later on Y/n found out that her mother had passed away due to her own overuse of drugs.

The news angered her father even more and he dared to blame it all on Y/n when he deep down knew that he was the blame. Y/n was stuck with him, wanting to leave him and stop all the pain he has caused her through the years.

Throwing empty liquor bottles to her, causing it to shatter against the wall and shoot into her skin. Sometimes he would get the closest object and try to beat her to death. Y/n never laid a hand on him, because she wanted to be better than him. He could never say that she hit back.

Changbin had told her many times to go to the police, but she would say that they wouldn’t believe her until they had actual prove. Because they found out that Y/n did kickboxing and Taekwondo and they just thought that she was another girl who wanted to mess with her parents. It was very frustrating. At home she wasn’t allowed to enjoy anything, to study or to in general grow. Her father wanted her to suffer, to rot into a pit and just die. The words and the thought hurt her deeply, but she knew it was mainly the pain and the alcohol talking for him. So, instead of ditching on him, she tried to save up money to take her father to a clinic. It was a lot of money and she didn’t wanted Changbin’s money, he kept offering, but she just couldn’t accept it.

Therefore, she worked for it. She saved up every little cent and went on with her life. She couldn’t find a normal job, so Hyunjin and Changbin were sweet enough to offer her a small job at their parlour. She was told to clean up their mess, to bring them food or whatever when they were working on a tattoo for hours and basically keep everything together. It didn’t pay a lot, but it was enough for her to safe up.

They were amazed by Y/n’s dedication and kindness. She goes through so much pain every day, just so she could provide for herself and her father. She told them, after they asked her why she just wouldn’t take the money, that she saves the money up herself, because she didn’t wanted her father to think that she wanted him gone. Yes, he hurt her deeply, but she still loves him because he’s her dad.

They found her heart and mindset inspiring and were glad that they could help out at least a little bit.

When Y/n’s situation got worse, Changbin offered her to come and stay at his place for a while. She was shocked and scared at first. Changbin really was one of the first persons to ever act kindly to her in her years of suffering.

His parents were shocked and intimidated by her appearance, which she wasn’t surprised by. They didn’t expect a delinquent-looking girl when Changbin said that a female friend of his would be staying over. Changbin also was from a wealthy family. His parent were rich, there’s no way to go around it. They lived in an apartment that was four times bigger than her dump of a place that she managed to call home. His parents were scared that Y/n would be an influence on their son. Not a good one obviously, a bad one of course.

Fortunately after a while and weeks of getting to know Y/n, they found out that Y/n was a girl with dept. She wasn’t like the other girls their son used to bring home. They were out for money, Y/n was out for safety and comfort. The more they talked with Y/n the more they fell in love with her. They loved the way Y/n talked about the things she loved like music, writing and creative things in general. It was one of the many things that she and Changbin bonded over, besides the tattoos and piercings.

Changbin was relieved that his parents were openminded enough to see past both of their images and look deeper into a person and they luckily got to know the real Y/n.

She did decide to not tell them about her father’s situation. All they knew is that she loved fighting sports and that she got her bruises from that, which wasn’t a complete lie. Changbin loved working out with her. He would tease her by calling her hundreds of different nicknames, just to mess with her. He was surprised every time of her strength and at the fact that she never used gloves for kickboxing, giving her permanent bruises on her knuckles. She would laugh about it and joke that it would scare the dumb kids off at her school.

Speaking of school, Changbin dropped out, to pursue one of his dreams, to become a tattoo artist. Y/n had a conversation with him and his parents the other day about his future. Yes, not even her own, but about her best friend’s one. His parents were worried that their son was throwing away his life.

But Y/n got her friend’s back and told his parents patiently and politely, but fierce, that their son was doing something he loved, something he was good at and he made money out of it as well. Changbin was talented and making a career out of it. It wasn’t the first dream he had intended for himself. He wanted to become a rapper, but the same goes for that. He produces music, is really good at it and is even able to perform, in exchange for money of course, every now and then. He’s trying to make it at both fields and he’s really good at it! When his parents heard the enthusiasm that came from her about their son, they saw that she was right. And Changbin still couldn’t thank you enough, but they supported his wishes and dreams from that day on.

The next day at school Chan made his way to the homeroom and was greeted by his friends, Jisung, Felix and Minho. Jisung and Minho were two sassy and sarcastic dodos who loved to insult people for fun. It sounds really mean, but it they are actually quite nice if they like you. And everyone wanted the two to like them, because if they liked you, you could be a step closer to Chan. But the ultimate way to Chan’s heart was: getting close with his best friend Felix. Chan had the biggest soft spot for his fellow Aussie and he would do anything for him. He basically guided Felix through life. Chan loved his friends unconditionally though and besides that, he had known them for ages. Their parents themselves were childhood friends. And so the four grew up together.

Besides Chan having a soft spot for Felix, he was also very close with Jisung, he was one of his producing partners. Jisung was a genius when it came to song lyrics and he was great to work with and it made him, besides Chan, the second member of the producing group 3Racha. Changbin was Chan’s last friend to complete the producing team. He was also very close with him, but since the both of them lived different lives, they didn’t get that deep bond like Chan had with Felix and Jisung.

Chan was chatting away with his friends, when he was suddenly interrupted by the presence of Y/n who just walked into the classroom. She got a new version of detention, where she had to arrive to school early, about an hour and a half earlier than the common students. It was quite the punishment since she didn’t got a lot of sleep already at home. But it wasn’t like the school cared, she ‘did this to herself’.

Chan sighed to himself as he tried to carry on with his conversation with his friends about the upcoming sport tournaments, but the loud music coming from Y/n’s earphones were distracting them.

They started to yell unnecessary comments to her as a joke, Chan laughing along with them. He watched her pull out an earphone and lower her music for a second as she yelled back. “You guys are the reason why God invented the middle finger!” Felix had to hold back his laughter as Minho and Jisung froze in shock. They as well have known Y/n for a long time, but somehow, they keep forgetting that she throw amazing insults back.

“You little-“ “Mister Lee, you better stop that or else you will be send to the principal’s office.” The teacher interrupted him, making him sit back in his seat with a huff. “And you Miss Y/l/n, you’re already in trouble, don’t make it worse for yourself.” The teacher sighed as Y/n just rolled her eyes and put her earphone back in.

Through the day, Chan was usually surrounded by admirers, who were usually just girls, and boys, who were absolutely smitten for him and wanted to become closer to this popular, rich boy. They loved throwing themselves onto him. Especially when Chan had his famous swimming tournaments and basically was half-naked in front of their eyes. There was even a time that some girls jumped into the water to ‘celebrate’ Chan’s win with him. So Y/n has heard. They would kill something or someone to get just a second or two of Chan’s attention. It was very pathetic and Y/n knew it. Hell, some just wanted him to look at them.

Sooyun was one of those girls, what a surprise, I know right?

She usually got what she wanted, since she was spoiled rotten. And she wanted Chan, that was for sure and she wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that. She thought that every girl who came close to Chan was a threat and she wouldn’t hesitate to fight them or ruin their school lives. Yet she knew not to mess with Y/n, she wasn’t afraid to throw hands and she was very glad that Sooyun was aware of that as well.

Sooyun, being a small figured girl, knew deep inside that she wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight with Y/n. Someone who has been practicing kickboxing and Taekwondo for multiple years.

Everybody thought that Sooyun and Chan would make the perfect couple together. They’re both rich, good-looking, have amazing grades and come from well families. He was an athlete and she was a dancer and/or cheerleader, no one really knew. People just loved them together, they were the ‘couple’ of the school, even though they’ve never dated. Sooyun belonged to Chan and Chan belonged to Sooyun. It was ‘supposed’ to be that way and not in any other.

For some reason, people asked Y/n if it bothered her and she would be so confused up to this day why they would ask her that. Of course it didn’t bother her, she didn’t care. She didn’t wanted t interfere with Chan’s business or with him after all, she saw him so much already since he had to scold her every time. The only time she could clearly remember where she interfered into his life was when the two of them were younger, her asking if she could borrow his bucket to build a sandcastle. The kindergarten teachers back then already knew that the two of them wouldn’t get along, unless a miracle happened.

“I swear! Her face could scare the shit out of a fucking toilet!” Some kid yells through the hall to Y/n. She didn’t bother to look at them as she inspected her locker. “Hey Y/n! That triple chin is shaping up nicely!” “Y/n! You’re so fucking lucky that mirrors can’t talk! They would just fucking laugh at you!” Another one shouted. “Just fucking leave you twat!” Y/n was getting enough of the comments and slammed her locker shut. “Every time one of you speak, I feel like one of my braincells commits suicide.” She said coolly to them. “Oh that wouldn’t be a lot then since you’re already retarded.” “I might not be perfect, but luckily I’m not you.” She said with sarcasm toning her voice and smile.

“What did you just say?” One of the girls say who Y/n aimed the comment to. “You heard me.” Before Y/n knew it, a punch was thrown to her face and she was slammed into the locker. The other kids didn’t bother to help Y/n, instead they started to cheer onto the other girl who was violently pulling Y/n’s hair whilst trying to throw punches. Y/n held on to her hands as she was still pushed against the locker, trying to hold the girl back from her face. Until the two hear a teacher screamed for the pair to stop.

The girl was ripped away from Y/n and Y/n finally felt like she found breath since the girls hands made their way to her throat in the end. “Y/n! Principal’s office! Now!” The teacher roared in frustration. Y/n sighed because she knew what was happening: she was getting the blame, as usual. And why? Because she was a delinquent.

In the end of the day, she was back with Chan in front of her. She now was pressing a cloth against her lip to stop it from bleeding as she ‘listened’ to Chan’s rant. Chan noticed her bleeding lip and wild hair. He wanted to make a comment about it, but he somehow felt guilty and decided not to. He was quite confused and taken aback by the feeling, since he usually wasn’t bothered to insult Y/n a little. “Just get your fucking shit together Y/n. This has been going on for months! I’m getting tired of your bullshit and you keep wasting my time! I could be going out with my friends for lunch right now, but no. I have to be here and ‘put you in your place’. I’m not your fucking babysitter Y/n so grow the fuck up and get yourself together for the love of God.” Chan sighed and left Y/n alone in the room.

Chan was once again shocked by himself as he made his way to the cafeteria. Usually was Y/n the one who left the room first, but she seemed to be timid and quiet this time. He tried to shake it off, because it was first of all none of his business and secondly, he didn’t care. He never did, why would he now? Chan remembered there was a time where he wanted to be friends with Y/n. They were around the age of nine, but he just never knew what she had against him. And through the years of him not being able to found out the reason, he just started to ‘hate’ her back, since it seemed to be the easiest way. She seemed so different and dangerous, she was also very held back. She had her walls up high and build strongly so no one could get through it or break them down. Chan now was focused on himself and he was glad he did, because he was fine just like that.

When Chan sat in the cafeteria with his friends he complained about Y/n wasting his time for the umpteenth time. His friends were just looking at him with a smug smirk and ended up laughing. “What?” Chan asked in confusion. “You’re so crushing on her.” Minho laughed as he took another bite of his sandwich. “What- no?” “Sure man, but you’re the one who keeps going on and on about her.” Jisung added before drinking his juice with a smirk. “I do not talk about her that much.” Chan claims in defence. “Yes you do, you mention her every day.” “That’s because she drives me mad every day!” “Whatever you say.” The two mutter before focussing their attention to their phones.

Chan shook his head in disbelief and looked away from them. His eyes landed onto a lonely figure that was outside in the spring sun. The sunlight was hitting her softly, giving her a soft glow as she scrabbled away in her notebook, her head tilt as she held her phone in between her shoulder and her head. Chan squinted his eyes and noticed that it was Y/n. He sighed slightly and took a bite rather aggressively as his frustration from earlier returned his body.

His gaze would fall back to Y/n who was suddenly throwing her body back in fort, seeming as if she was laughing loudly at something. Chan was surprised when he saw her like that, because he had never seen her smile, like ever. Chan was caught staring at her by the boys as they suddenly started to tease him once again. “Stop it.” Chan would whine at the other three. “You know, there could be a reason why she gets into trouble all the time.” Minho began. “She’s a troublemaker, it’s her thing.” Jisung scoffs with a chuckle. “Yes that too, but what if she does that all on purpose, so she can spend time with Chan?” Minho theorises. “No, that would be pathetic.” Chan argued in disbelief, not thinking that someone like Y/n would ever do something like that. “I mean, you’ve seen crazier thing Chan. It wouldn’t be too weird if she does all of this for that reason.” Minho shrugged, setting Chan to thinking.

In the meantime Y/n was sat outside. The sun was nice and warm and she had a nice spot alone in the open. She had pulled out her notebook to draw and write her lunch break away, until she thought of what she wanted to do tonight. So, she called Changbin, who picked up happily. “What’s up buttercup?” He sang on the other side of the line. “Nothing much Tat Rat. You busy tonight?” She asked him hopefully. “I am Dumpling. CB97 has called us to work tonight. We have to rehearse.” Changbin said, feeling sorry and guilty that he couldn’t spend time with her, because she probably needed him.

“Nah, it’s okay. I was just wondering.” She stuttered. “You can go and hang out with my mom you know? She’s alone tonight since my dad is gone for a business trip.” “I could do that and look at baby pictures of yours with her-“ “Don’t you fucking dare!” Changbin yelled, making her laugh loudly. “Calm down! You were cute though.” “I was cute? I’m not anymore?” He joked and she could almost hear the pout on his lips from the other side of the line. “Of course you’re the cutest Binnie!” She chuckled through the phone as she cutely cheered onto him. His laugh made her day a little better and he assured her that he would be home in time so they could spend some time together as well before she falls asleep.

She said that she would like that before they exchanged their goodbyes and hung up on the call. She sighed in relief that she could stay at Changbin’s place. She wasn’t feeling like getting beaten up twice today. She decided to go to his apartment right now, because she also didn’t feel like facing Chan or any other student again today. Therefore, fifteen minutes before the bell rung to get everyone back to class, she made her way to her locker to gather her stuff to leave. What she didn’t knew was that Chan had seen her and he, as the vice president, felt responsible to scold her once again for her behaviour. And since it was Y/n as well, he was especially done with her shit. He didn’t know what happened to himself, but something inside of him seemed to have snapped as he stomped his way to Y/n’s locker where she was standing herself.

“You’re fucking skipping again? School is for education you know? And since you’ve missed a lot of it, it just shows how retarded you are! You already go in trouble for multiple shit and you still pull out this card? You’re such a moron no wonder no teacher wants you in their class. At least I have something to look forward too. I work for my future, can’t say the same thing about you.” He snarled in anger. But soon enough a pang in his chest was felt and he was filled with guilt.

Y/n turned to him slowly, slamming her locker closed in process as she looked at him with slight watery eyes.

“You have no right to say something like that about me Christopher. You have no idea what’s going on in my life and you certainly can’t say that I’m not working on my future. I know you are mister perfect, but I didn’t know you would be so low to people below you.” She snapped back, before she swung her bag over her shoulders and pushed pass him.

This was the second time for Chan to be shocked by her. This time seeing her so vulnerable and because she used his full English name.

He watched how she rushed through the halls outside, leaving the building in process. Her serious and fallen expression were printed into his brain and he wasn’t very sure what to do with them. She usually seemed to unbothered and cold, he felt like he finally saw her as a human being and it just did something to him, he just didn’t know what and why. A part of him wanted to run after her and apologise for his harsh words. Another side, his pride, was high up in the sky and stopped him from doing so.

When Y/n had arrived at the Seo resident, she lied to his mother that she wasn’t feeling too well. She added to the lie that she had kickboxing training in the morning and that she got beaten in her face and stomach. Misses Seo would pity for her and ask her if she wanted some soup to make her feel a little better. Y/n thanked her but declined the offer and told her that she would be resting in Changbin’s room for a bit, which ended up her falling asleep in Changbin’s bed.

Hours later she woke up to the bed denting a little and a familiar sent filling her nose. “You’re back?” She muttered in a tired voice as she tried to open her eyes to look at her friend. “Yeah, I just got home. It’s eleven O’clock. Did you sleep the whole time?” He asked as he softly rubbed her back. She hummed in responds as she turned her body towards him so she could hug him. “Y/n?” “Hmm?” “Are those new wounds?” Changbin asks carefully. She managed to hum a ‘yes’ which made Changbin sigh worriedly.

“Did you at least throw hands back?” When she didn’t answer he already knew that she didn’t. “Y/n, this needs to stop.” “It’s just a few more months. Then they will be gone forever.” She whispers whilst closing her eyes again. “Besides, my older wounds aren’t healed yet.”

Changbin was besides a rapper, producer and tattoo artist also a doctor by now. The amount of times he had helped her with her wounds, cuts and bruises were uncountable.

The boy would sigh once again and lay down with her. Wrapping his arms around her carefully as he held her protectively. Y/n would usually stay in the Seo’s spare room, also known as Changbin’s older sister’s old bedroom, that wasn’t used anymore since she had already moved out. But at times like these, Changbin felt a need to hold her and protect her, since sometime she was too weak or too tired to do it herself.

The two of them fell asleep like that, that night. And since they fell asleep, Y/n forgot to set her alarm, which caused her to oversleep through her first class. She groans as she noticed how late she was and muttered a goodbye to the exhausted Changbin who eventually was left alone in bed.

Y/n hopped onto her motor and drove her way to school. As soon as she stepped foot into the building, she was greeted by the principal and lead to her office. She cursed to herself, because she knew that her punishment was going up a notch. And she was now just mentally preparing herself for it.

What could happen? Getting early at school and leaving extra late? She wouldn’t have a problem with it, since she wouldn’t have to be at home. School punishments weren’t the worst things that ever happened to her.

“Miss Y/l/n, I have been informed that you aren’t passing most of your classes.” The principal states. “I mean, I guess so.” Y/n muttered, still tired as fuck. “Do you want to receive your diploma this year, Miss Y/l/n?” She asks almost annoyed. “Yes.” “Well then you will have to pass at least three of these failing classes to receive your diploma. This will mean that you will have to be tutored and make extra assignments for extra credit if you want to get that diploma.” She said sternly.

The school wouldn’t want to kick her off, since there would be rumours going around like wildfire and it would make the school look bad. So instead, the principal had someone in mind to ‘help’ her. So she could pass her classes, get her diploma for the sake of the school.

“Who could possibly be tutoring me-“ At that moment a familiar figure walked into the office room. Chan rolled his eyes as soon as he saw her. His chest tightened a little at the sight of her. Her bloody lip had dried up and was now a shade of deep, dark red, matching the rest of her other wounds. “What did you do this time?” Chan muttered annoyed, receiving an eye roll from Y/n. “Mister Bang, I’m glad you’re here. I just told Y/n that you would be the one tutoring her!” The principal reveals cheerfully. But Chan was anything but cheerful as he stared at the adult across him.

“I’m going to what now?”

To be continued…

Gif isn’t mine.

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struwwelzeter · 3 years

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So I read your reply to Nyarisu's comment on Lionheart and I'm really intrigued by your comments about how people understand punk compared to what it was initially. Could I possibly ask you to expand on this? Pretty please?

Yes you could! This is a very (very?) personal point of view and I know a lot of people will disagree, but here goes nothing, I guess. If you disagree with me (and somebody will), that’s fine, but I will not engage with anything that’s not a constructively put argument. I’ve spend too much time thinking about this for a “I don’t like what you’re saying and that’s why you’re wrong” anon to change my mind. Just putting that out there - with love 💜.

The thing is, especially on tumblr but I think just in generally aswell, the idea of punk is presented as this ... Robin Hood kind of thing. Beat the system, stand up to bullies, live your own truth, all of that, but it always is presented as something that is supposed to come from a ... dare I say, nice place? Like those pictures of people in studded and sprayed leather jackets rescuing puppies. All of that, you know? And I don’t want to say that is wrong, because it isn’t, and I love the idea of that, it’s just not the entire truth.

Especially in the early to mid 70s, when arguably punk started, there was a lot of fatigue between an old and stuffy establishment and the lovey, dovey peace and love “let’s all be happy” movement of the hippie scene. I was at Force Attack in 2006, which is a punk festival (and possibly dirtiest place in the world) that got established in the early 90s and went on til 2008 (?), and even then some of the “death to hippies” sentiments ran pretty deep. And I know the counter argument to that will be a well meaning “well, that’s not real punk,” the problem is that I think it actually partly is. (Please keep the partly in mind for the rest of this argument.)

The problem with having the exact choice between “get a good job, built a nice house, think of what the neighbours will say, and don’t ask me about what I did in the war” and “we’re all a big part of one human family, and isn’t nature beautiful, lets all make peace, and btw we would have never done what our parents did” is that both models aren’t a sustainable life style for everyone. That’s why you get alot of people saying this is all fake bullshit, and they start being purposely offensive. This is why you get alot of Swastikas around the sex pistols, you get all these artists singing about suicide and incest and rape. It’s not that uncommon for some of those early acts to play with Nazi imagery, or claim that homosexuality is disgusting (despite the scene always being full of LGBTQ+ people), or idk, thinking it’s fun to piss on someone while they’re asleep. It’s alot of outcry, of saying life actually is this shitty and disgusting and I am gonna be that because in a way you will hate me either way. And it’s not always nice. Disdain and hate and petty selfishness are common human emotions and many of them are low and unhealthy, and honestly not nice or helpful or inclusive, but they are there, and I think alot of that early spirit was just about stopping to pretend that they don’t exist.

I think a reason for why we don’t think of the scene that way anymore is that many people very quickly outgrew that, and said “actually, we’re better than that, that’s not who we actually are. I sadly can’t find that interview right now, but Die Ärzte are actually a good exemple of that and they even admit it themselves, that there was a sense of “enough with the happy hippie bullshit, let’s disgust them” and then later going “uhmm - maybe that went a bit far.” I mean offensive or not, but ultimately a scene that is centered around artistic expression always ends with that question of creation, maybe like “if the world isn’t like what we want it to be, how do we make one we like?” - and then you end up with having to come up with answers that are more than just destruction. And then it turns into something else - something that I think is alot more like what tumblr seems to think punk is. And that’s a wonderful thing. Still - a side of punk, whatever that is, has always been what people like GG Allin (please read the wiki for context) have taken and pushed to the limits, and it just - isn’t nice. And here is where things get a bit tricky.

Because against that backdrop, things like John Lydon (Johnny Rotten) suddenly being a dirty old Trump supporter aren’t that surprising anymore. And then you get these 20 year olds “cancelling” the Sex Pistols, and I think there is just a bit of ... missing the point going on. I’ve read a comment on here recently, that basically said something like Richard should stop supporting the Sex Pistols (because he has that album in the back of the studio), and it’s just ... asking for a history to be erased that has rightfully been made obsolete but has still happened and was necessary at the time. You can take any of these early bands and pick their lyrics apart and find something that from our perspective now is disgusting, mean, exclusive, or outright racist. Songs about Fucking? Part of that record is a mysogynisy shitshow, something they were very aware of even at the time, and they still did it anyway because being disgusting was part of the point. The thing is though, the Sex Pistols were hugely influential, and alot of the positive things that grew out of that wouldn’t have been possible if kids like young Richard, or any of the bands you love that were influenced by them, wouldn’t have gotten that moment of “finally a place where I can put all of my petty hate”. It matters, and just because that moment is overcome, it doesn’t mean it should be forgotten, or stops existing in the people that lived through it.

I understand that the question of how much we should justify things with “it was the time” and how we deal with the result is an ever ongoing debate and their are many good arguments for why maybe we shouldn’t try to defend the wrongs of the past that way, and I want to point out that while I rarely agree on that in the first place (because I understand history as a natural learning curve where people aren’t perfect at the first try and it’s doing a disservice to humans just doing their best, but I digress and that’s a bit of another duscussion), I want to point out that I don’t want to defend anyone, rather I want to say “actually, being that horrible was often calculated, part of the point, and if you don’t like it, just leave it, fight it or debate it, but don’t pretend like it was a “missstep” or just a few black sheep of a scene that was never as nice or perfect as you want it to be.” You don’t get to erase half of a movement simply because you wish it wouldn’t exist the way it does - or well. I guess in this case mostly did - past tense.

The ugliness is part of the story to me, and it’s actually the bigger part of why I love this scene. I don’t need “punk” to define my politics, I need it to soothe my soul, and so did many, I think. The Sex Pistols breaking happened 20 years before my time, but I still feel connected to that world, and in particular the ugly parts of it. I often feel like I look at the world, and there are people that seem honestly shocked by the idea that maybe sometimes I find doing the right thing really hard, that I want petty, self serving revenge, that I don’t find it easy to not be selfish and unkind or sometimes want to hurt people because I am hurting myself and see an opportunity to do that. Obviously those aren’t nice things and I don’t want to be that way, but are you honestly telling me you don’t feel that? I find that hard to believe, and it leaves me with an ongoing question of if I am just worse than most people or if most people are just more fake. Both scenarios are equally shit. The ugly side of punk provides - not an answer to that - but maybe a partial solution, at least for me.

Another discussion we have all the time is about how what we consume or allow in artistic expression is influencing how we act as people in real life and how we want the world to be. Where do we draw the line? What is still ok? If I put me entertaining ideas about murder on a canvas, is that still good? what if it’s racism? What if it’s rape? We argue alot about how providing a safe space in art for those feelings is actually preventing us from acting on it in real life, how it’s an outlet of something we would never actually want or do, but then where is the limit to that? I am putting this intentionally controversial, but if we admit that most of us grow up with internalized racism and mysogyny, by that logic, why can’t I paint something that is blatantly hateful if I have those feelings? Maybe that is my way of fighting it, you don’t have to look at it? Not saying that’s what I am doing or would want to do, but what if? For some people Rammstein singing about not wanting to be Angels is crossing that line, for some of us that line is drawn alot later. Who is right? Isn’t that just personal sensitivity? Can you honestly rationalise that? Isn’t it just processing our different levels of petty hate in different ways? I don’t have the answers to any of that, it’s just questions I often have and that I think have to do with this, because alot of the nasty bits in punk will justify it exactly that way, as artistic expression. Alot of it isn’t as political as this scene is made out to be, it’s simply asking those things. I personally relate to that alot, as someone who arguably would draw the line of “we should stop doing this” in art very, very, very late - and certainly later than my own personal comfort zone.

I’m not sure if any of this makes any sense at all. I hope it does - and if it doesn’t it’s probably because I don’t know either, or because I don’t want to fully blow this up into an essay (sorry, too late?) or because I suck at making a point, or maybe because we simply disagree. All I know is that I sometimes see these posts of “what is punk and what isn’t” and it leaves me with this taste of “you’re describing a utopia and it’s cute and I want that too, but it’s not everything punk as I know it is, and it feels like you don’t want to see something that mattered too - even if it was brutal and disgusting.” And everytime I see it I feel alien, like something that mattered to me so much as a teenager and young adult gets taken away from me and made into something so sleek and pretty it becomes something unattainable to be that I simply don’t manage to live up to in the way I would like. I guess that is a petty, selfish way of looking at it too.

«It's a repressive society where you can't be horrible, I'm not horrible, they made me horrible, I'm just honest.»

- John Lydon

#sorry for this getting out of hand

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coolgreatwebsite · 3 years

Text

Cool Games I Finished In 2020 (In No Real Order)

Oh, hey! Right! I have a website! I’m like a week late on writing this, but what’s a week on top of an entire year of not writing, right? 2020 was... well, we all know what 2020 was. For me personally, it was simultaneously the best and worst year of my life. The worst in both ways you can probably assume and ways you definitely can’t (neither of which I’ll be getting into), and the best in ways I absolutely never would have guessed. That uncertain job I mentioned last year got very suddenly much more certain, at a much bigger company, for a much larger amount of money. That allowed me to get my own place, making my weird living situation much less weird. Still haven’t gotten the majority of my belongings off of the east coast, but if the entire world wasn’t currently fucked up by a global pandemic I’d have sorted all that out too. What I’m saying is that, for the third year in a row, my life has been a complete whirlwind that has left me very little time to get comfortable with any aspect of it. But I did manage to play more video games than I did last year! Which is perfect, because it’s once again time for another one of these. Here’s a bunch of cool games I experienced for the first time in 2020.

Astro’s Playroom (PlayStation 5, 2020)

My one word description of Astro's Playroom is "delightful". It's just an absolute goddamn delight. A total surprise too! Included with every PlayStation 5, Astro's Playroom is, in my opinion, one of the best pack-in games of all time.

First off, it's an incredible tech demo for the PS5's new DualSense controller. It was easy to brush off Sony's talk about the controller's haptic feedback and triggers as some Nintendo-style HD Rumble bullshit, but it really is incredibly cool once you get your hands on it. The game is obviously more than a tech demo though, or else it wouldn't be on here. It also just so happens to be an extremely solid and fun platformer on top of that. Astro controls exceptionally well and the levels are all well-designed and fun, even the gimmick vehicle ones designed to show off different features of the controller. It also has an oddly compelling speedrun mode, made all the more compelling by the PS5 notifying you when your friends beat your times and the ability to load into it within two seconds from anywhere on the console. But the biggest thing for me and, call me a mark, because I am, is that the game is an honestly incredible love letter to PlayStation history.

For the first time ever, Sony has pulled off a nostalgia piece without it ending up as embarrassing garbage in the vein of PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale. There's a Nintendo-like joyful reverence for all things PlayStation oozing out of every single corner of this game. There are so many nods and references and gags for literally every PlayStation thing of note throughout the the last 25 years, and then on top of that there's a whole heap more for the things that AREN'T of note that only hyperdorks like me would get! A sly reference to the ill-fated boomerang controller? Yep. A goof on the fat PS3's Spider-Man font? You betcha. A trophy you can earn by repeatedly punching a Sony Interactive Entertainment sign until it breaks and reveals the Sony Computer Entertainment sign it was slapped on top of? Yeah buddy. It's deep cuts all the way down, even up until the final boss which had me grinning like a total dipshit the entire time. The game is endlessly, effortlessly charming.

Animal Crossing: New Horizons (Nintendo Switch, 2020)

Animal Crossing: New Horizons was the perfect game at the perfect time. That doesn't mean it's a perfect game, I actually have some issues with it, but it could not have released at a better time than when it did. It came out at the very very beginning of everyone going into lockdown due to the pandemic, and it was the biggest game in the world for a couple of months as a result. I played like 300 hours and that pales in comparison to the amount of time many others put into it.

Animal Crossing: New Horizons is the most different Animal Crossing game there's ever been, and I'm of two minds on it. Like, I loved the game, I played a ton of it, but it's lacking so much of the stuff that made me love Animal Crossing in the first place. The series has been slowly trending in this direction for a bit now, but it's not really a game that happens around you anymore. It's all about total player control. You select where everything goes, you customize every detail of everything to your liking, hell, you can even terraform the landmass to be exactly what you want. Your neighbors take a backseat in focus and end up as little more than decorations with limited dialogue and next to no quests associated with them. Series staples like Gyroids are missing in action. Facilities and services that have been around since Wild World aren't implemented. It's similar to past Animal Crossing games in a lot of ways, but on the whole it feels like a different thing.

But like I said, two minds. New Horizons strays from what I truly want from an Animal Crossing game, but I can't deny that the game as it is is a hell of a lot of fun. There's SO much you can do and SO many options, it's super addictive. Plus it implemented my long-requested feature of letting you effortlessly send mail to friends online! Too bad the actual online play is as cumbersome as ever.

In conclusion, Animal Crossing: New Horizons is a land of contrasts. I'm kidding. It's good, but definitely missing something in a way where I can understand some people being disappointed in it. I had a ton of fun though, and I'm probably going to get back into it later in 2021.

Trials of Mana (Nintendo Switch, 2019)

Late in 2019, with the physical release of Collection of Mana for the Switch, I decided I was going to play through each game on it for the first time and finally find out what this whole Mana thing was about. I went into Final Fantasy Adventure (the first game in the Mana series, because every RPG had to be Final Fantasy back then) with zero expectations and found a totally serviceable little Zelda-like with light RPG elements. I enjoyed my time with it. I went into Secret of Mana with the expectation of it being a beloved classic and found the worst game I beat that year, hands down. That game fucking sucks. I get why it made an impression on people at the time, but it's just so so SO awful to play. Needless to say I was pretty disappointed. Honestly, I would have been disappointed even if I hadn't heard it was one of "the best games" for so long. It would have been a disappointing follow-up to Final Fantasy Adventure, a game that in and of itself isn't anything incredible. Secret of Mana is just that rotten.

I braced myself for more disappointment when (after a much needed vacation from the series) I started up Trials of Mana. This game had a reputation too, as a long-lost classic that never made it stateside. One of the best games on the Super Nintendo, criminally never released for western audiences! Like Secret of Mana before it, I'd heard nothing but effusive praise. Unlike Secret of Mana, however, I was very pleased to find out that Trials of Mana mostly lives up to the hype. From a gameplay standpoint, Trials is an improvement on Secret in almost every single way. It's not perfect. The menus are still kinda clunky, animations for things like magic and items are still frequently disruptive. But the main thing is it actually plays like a sensible video game designed by humans with brains. Attacking is responsive! Hitboxes aren't complete nonsense! You don't constantly get stunlocked to death! There are more answers to combat than casting the same spell for five straight minutes to kill your enemies before they get a chance to move! It's great!

On top of being an enjoyable video game to actually play, the presentation is top notch. Secret of Mana could be a pretty game with decent music in some spots, but Trials is consistently gorgeous and the soundtrack is across the board great instead of randomly having songs that sound like clown vomit. And while Trials of Mana doesn't have the deepest story in the world, it manages to avoid being completely paper-thin like Secret. The story actually kind of has a reason for being a bit straightforward, and the reason is that it has a really cool system where you pick your three playable characters from a pool of six. Each character has their own goals and storyline, some of which line up with other potential party members, some of which don't, and you'll even run into the characters you didn't choose as NPCs along the way. This and the relatively brisk pace of the game make it highly replayable.

I'm really glad that Trials of Mana made it over here in an official capacity, even if it was like 25 years late. It's as good as I expected Secret of Mana to be and singlehandedly saved my interest in seeing any more of the series. I'm aware the quality of what came after is very spotty, but I'll get to the rest eventually!

Final Fantasy VII Remake (PlayStation 4, 2020)

They (almost) did it. They (basically) pulled it off. They remade (a chunk of) Final Fantasy VII and (for the most part) didn't fuck it up. Ok, funny parentheticals aside, Final Fantasy VII Remake is astoundingly good coming off of over two decades of just absolutely dreadful post-FF7 sequels, side games, and movies.

Final Fantasy VII has been historically misremembered as this kind of miserable, angsty, brooding thing, both by fans and by the company that made it. FF7-branded media after FF7 itself is a minefield of changed personalities, embarrassing original characters, and monumentally lame stories. Final Fantasy VII Remake is the first post-FF7 anything that actually remembers the characters, setting, and plot of Final Fantasy VII and what made them memorable and special to people in the first place. Which isn't to say it's a slavish recreation! There's a ton of changes and additions, and I actually like almost all of them! Except for some really big stuff I'll touch on in a bit!

The combat in Final Fantasy VII Remake is great. I was super skeptical about it when the game was first announced, but they actually managed to make the blend of real-time action and turn-based RPG menuing fun and engaging. The characters all play super differently from each other too, which is a huge and welcome difference from the original game. The Materia system fits like a glove in this revamped combat system as well. The remixed music is good as hell, and the visuals are beautiful (outside of a couple of very specific spots that I'm kinda of surprised they haven't fixed in a patch yet). It's a well-executed package all around.

But alas, as always, there are negatives. For starters, this is only part one of the overall Final Fantasy VII Remake project. It goes up to the party leaving Midgar which, as you may or may not recall, is the first six hours of the original game. They compensated for this by fleshing the hell out of the Midgar section the game, ballooning the overall playtime to total of about 30-ish hours. The game feeling padded is a common complaint but for what it's worth, I didn't really feel it until the unnecessarily long final dungeon, There's also the previously mentioned and funny parenthetical'd changes and additions I don't like.

This is big time spoilers for this game so if you don't want that jump ahead to the next game on the list. The Whispers suck ass. Final Fantasy VII Remake should have been brave enough to be different without having to constantly derail everything in the most ham-fisted and intrusive way possible. You can have Jessie twist her ankle without making a spooky plot ghost trip her. I don't want to fight the physical manifestation of the game everyone thought they were getting as an end boss. If you're not doing a straight remake, that's fine, but have the fucking guts to stand by your artistic decisions without feeling the need to invent the lamest deus ex machina I've ever fucking seen. The last couple of hours of this game are 100% about the Whispers and are awful for it. It's a true testament to the strength of the rest of Final Fantasy VII Remake that this aspect didn't completely sour me on it. I can only hope that they stay dead and gone for good in the games yet to come and the remake can be different while standing on its own two feet.

I truly cannot wait for the next entry in the Final Fantasy VII Remake project. I'm excited for Final Fantasy VII in a way I haven't been since the late 90s. I have a bit of trepidation that they could royally screw it up. I mean, they already got kinda close, as I said in my last paragraph. But they got so much right in this entry that, for the first time in decades, I'm willing to believe in Square Enix when it comes to Final Fantasy VII.

13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim (PlayStation 4, 2020)

My one word description of 13 Sentinels is "fucking crazy". I realize that's two words, but shut up. A bizarre hybrid of visual novel, adventure game, and strategy RPG, 13 Sentinels not only makes that work, but makes it work incredibly well.

The story is fucking bonkers. It's told entirely non-linearly and is purposefully dense and confusing, but it does an amazing job of hooking you with a cast of likable characters and some impressively well-paced twists, made all the more impressive by the fact that you can tackle the story in basically whatever order you want. I'll say it again for those in the back, the story is Fucking Bonkers. Wherever you think it's going, it's not going. Where it is going is PLACES. Seriously, if you want a wild goddamn ride, this is the game for you. The presentation is also stunning. It's a drop dead gorgeous game with a really nice soundtrack. Easily Vanillaware's best looking game, which is saying something seeing as looking good is Vanillaware's whole deal.

If I had to levy one criticism against the game, it's that the strategy RPG portion is just kind of ok. It's enjoyable enough, it doesn't get in the way and there's not too much of it, but once it starts introducing armored versions of previous enemy types it's kind of done doing anything different. It is really good at getting people to out themselves as having no idea what tower defense is as a genre though!

Hyrule Warriors: Definitive Edition (Nintendo Switch, 2018)

I haven't really historically been a "Musou Guy". Not to say I've actively disliked them, they're just not something I've seeked out very often or played very much of. Hyrule Warriors: Definitive Edition kinda turned me into a "Musou Guy" a little bit? It's good, surprisingly-less-mindless-than-you'd-think fun.

I actually super don't care about the Zelda branding. I think all the fanservice stuff is meh at best. What I do care about is that there's a ton of character variety and a metric shitload of content. There's so many different characters and weapons for those characters that all play differently from one another and SOOOOOO many levels to play. Like the story mode is, again, kinda meh, the real meat of the game is the Adventure mode and there's a ton of it. It's 8 different world maps, each based off a different Zelda game, with each square of the map containing a little mini-scenario with unique objectives and rewards. There has to be at least 1000 scenarios between all the maps. There's so much. And that's not even getting into some of the other side stuff like the challenge modes and the fairy raising. It's a crazy amount of game in this game.

And again, it's not as mindless as it'd seem. It's not really a game ABOUT destroying 5000 guys, it's an area control and resource management game where the 5000 guys are one of those resources. Knowing who to send where and when to fight who is way more important than pressing the XXX YYY XXX YYY on the more than one million troops.

I'd say that if you're even cursorily potentially maybe interested in a musou game, this is the one to try. And if you like it, it could literally be your forever game. A sequel came out recently too, and I'm looking forward to trying that out soon.

Phantasy Star Online 2 (Xbox One, 2020)

Phantasy Star Online 2 finally came stateside in the year 2020, eight years after its initial Japanese release and initial American cancellation. It's no Phantasy Star Online 1, but it is a really fun game in its own right provided you can find the willpower to break through its clunkiness and eight years of confusing poorly tutorialized free-to-play MMO cruft.

The main thing going for PSO2, and this is a major improvement from PSO1, is that the act of engaging in its combat is fun. The combat is just feels really really good. There's a bunch of different weapon types and classes, and once you find the ones that really click with you you're in for a good time, whether you're izuna dropping dudes with wire claws or literally doing air juggles and rainstorm from Devil May Cry with the dual machine guns.

The other stuff around that combat is weird. I generally like it, but it's weird. The story mode is one of the most bizarrely presented things I've ever seen. It apparently used to be something you'd seek out in the levels themselves, but presently it's just a list of scenes you pick from a menu and watch with next to no context until it makes you fight a boss sometimes. There's some weird moments in there that MIGHT have been cool if it were presented in literally any other way?

The systems and presentation are also way more... I dunno, pinball? Pachislot? In very stark contrast to how chill original Phantasy Star Online was, everything in PSO2 is designed in a way to maximize that flashy light bing bing wahoo you got ~*~RARE DROP CHANCE UP~*~ feeling. Which isn't to say I don't like flashy light bing bing wahoo, but it's a weird different thing.

Was it worth the wait? Yeah, sure! For me! This is another one that I played like 300 hours of! I haven't even seen half of it, I fell off right before Episode 4 released because it coincided with my move! I'm gonna go back and see all that shit! PSO2's fun! A different flavor of fun than the original, sure, but fun all the same. Another one that I'm glad finally made it over here.

Riichi Mahjong (A Table, 1924)

Holy shit I fucking did it I finally learned how to play Mahjong and it rules.

It started when I picked up Clubhouse Games for the Switch. I saw that it had Riichi Mahjong and something in my brain snapped. For whatever reason, I decided that this was the time I was going to rip the band-aid off and figure this shit out. It wasn't too dissimilar to the first time I decided to try eggs, but that's a different and much stupider story for a different time. I did the tutorial in Clubhouse Games, looked up some more basics and advice because the tutorial wasn't super amazing, and I kept playing while being aided by the game's nice helper features like the button that pulls up recommended hands. I kept playing and... sorta got it. I learned the basic rules, but none of the strategy. And then I stopped playing for a few months.

In that few months, for whatever reason, a decent amount of people I know had their brains snap the same way? Like a more-than-two amount of people I'm either friends with or following online also decided to learn Mahjong. I decided to get back on the horse and downloaded Mahjong Soul and I don't know whether it was perseverance or the power of anime babes, but this time I got it. I still refer to a sheet with all the hands and whether they work open or closed, and I'm by no means a master player, but I actually honest to god understand what I'm doing and it's an incredible feeling.

Mahjong has such a huge amount of what I like to call "Get That Ass" energy. It is the energy you feel when you get someone's ass. In Mahjong you are either constantly getting someone's ass or getting your ass gotten. Someone puts down the wrong tile and you fucking GET THEIR ASS DUDE! They're got!! They're a fucking idiot that put down the wrong thing and now you have their points!!! Or you draw what you need yourself and you're a brain genius all according to plan and everyone gives you points because you're so wise!!!! It's great!!!!!

Mahjong has long been one of those games where I'd say "I'll learn this someday" and never reeeeally actually try to learn, and I'm so glad I finally took the effort to because it's good as hell. And, truth be told, it wasn't THAT hard to learn? Like you can get to the point where I was where I didn't know the strategy fairly easily in my opinion, and once you do that It's just a matter of continuing to play to understand the rest. I highly recommended that you also go out and learn it if you similarly revel in getting that ass, it's so satisfying once you do.

Yakuza: Like a Dragon (PlayStation 4, 2020)

Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio took a big gamble with Yakuza: Like a Dragon. After seven games (more if you take spinoffs and remakes into consideration) they decided to focus on a new main character and, even more unexpectedly, they decided to change things up by turning the series into a turn-based JRPG. Their gamble paid off in spades. This is easily in my top 3 favorite Yakuza games.

The JRPG gameplay is surprisingly solid. There's definite room for improvement, but they nailed a bunch of it right out of the gate. Some mechanics are a little janky and I wish the job system was more fleshed out or just worked more like Final Fantasy V's, but they nailed one of the most important things and made the battles brisk and fun. It's a great foundation, especially for a team that's never attempted anything like this, and it's way more fun than the combat's been in any of the previous Dragon Engine games. I can't wait to see them iterate on it.

Everything else is top fuckin' notch. The music is great, the side content is fully fleshed out in a way it hasn't been since before they switched to the Dragon Engine, and I love the characters and story so much. Yakuza has a new main character in Ichiban Kasuga, and he's my son and I love him. Kiryu was great, and I love him too, but he was a bit of a passive protagonist. Stuff happened around him and he mostly just stoically reacted to it. Ichi is a much more active lead and it's great. He's a big lovable dope, and his tendency to keep an upbeat attitude and eagerness to leap into action is such a breath of fresh air. And it's not only Ichiban, since this is an RPG you have a whole party of characters and they're all great! Having them with you at all times bantering with each other and reacting to things is another great change of narrative pace, too.

Yakuza: Like a Dragon just straight up rules. As someone who has historically not been too much of a fan of the Dragon Engine games, it's simultaneously a refreshing new take on the series and a fantastic return to form. I can't wait for what comes next. Wherever Ichiban goes, I go.

Moon: Remix RPG Adventure (Nintendo Switch, 2020)

After 23 years of Japanese PS1 exclusivity, Moon: Remix RPG Adventure finally got an English release this year for Nintendo Switch. I'm glad it did, because Moon isn't just the very definition of A Sebmal Game. It's the Sebmal Game missing link. In addition to being just a great video game, it helped me make a mental throughline for a bunch of games I love and a large part of my taste in video games.

To keep a long story short (seriously, I have a much much longer version of this saved in my drafts that I'll maybe finish someday), Moon turned out to be not the JRPG I assumed it was, given the title and basic story pitch, but a secret prequel to a game I love named Chulip. Moon's developer, Love-de-Lic, was formed by a handful of ex-Squaresoft employees, many of which worked on an extremely formative game I love named Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars. Love-de-Lic broke up in the year 2000 and its staff went on to form a bunch of different studios that ended up making a BUNCH of different games I love like Chibi-Robo, Freshly-Picked Tingle's Rosy Rupeeland, Dandy Dungeon, and the aforementioned Chulip. These games, when you make the connection and line them up, all have a very distinct weirdness in common that makes perfect sense once you've realized many of the same people worked on them. Figuring this all out felt like snapping a piece of my brain back in place, and it was really crazy to come to understand exactly how much this studio that formed and disbanded decades before I'd even heard of them had impacted my tastes and, hell, my life.

So what is Moon, for those who don't innately understand what I mean by "a secret prequel to Chulip"? Moon is an adventure game where you explore a world with a day/night cycle, learn about that world's inhabitants, and eventually solve their problems. Think of it kind of like The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, but if the sidequests were the entirety of the focus with no Groundhog Day time reset mechanic and none of the Zelda stuff like combat and dungeons. You play as a young boy who, after a late night JRPG binge session, is sucked into the world of the game he was just playing. Everything is off from the way it was portrayed while the boy was playing the game, though. The hero he had previously controlled is actually a silent menace, raiding peoples' houses for treasure and slaughtering every innocent animal that crosses his path in an endless quest for EXP. The townspeople seem more concerned with problems in their day-to-day lives than the supposed world threatening crisis outlined in the game's intro. It's up to you as the boy to investigate this world's mysteries, help the townsfolk, mend the damage the hero has done, and eventually restore love to a loveless world.

Speaking of love, I fucking loved Moon. I loved the story, I loved the characters, I loved the music, I loved the way it looks (even though the Switch port is a little crusty in that basic emulator-y kinda way), I loved how constantly bizarre and surprising and funny it was. Like I said earlier, it's the very definition of a game made for me. It was essentially the progenitor of a long line of games made for me, and of games potentially made for me but I don't know yet because I haven't played them due to not understanding Japanese (UFO: A Day in the Life translation next please? Anyone from Onion Games reading this??). For as similar as Moon and Chulip are in their systems and pacing, I think I might actually like Moon better despite it coming earlier? It's not as full force maximum impact absurd as Chulip is, but it is a lot more playable and less obtuse once you get a grip on the time limit mechanic. You don't need a full strategy guide included in the instruction manual for Moon, and you don't need to exchange business cards with every single character to get information vital to finishing the game either.

I truly cannot recommend Moon enough if your taste in games ventures anywhere off the beaten path. Maybe this is a little conceited of me, but I assume if you're reading this article, let alone this far down into it, you relate to my video game opinions at least a little bit? You should play Moon. Everyone reading this sentence should play Moon. Moon: Remix RPG Adventure is my game of the year for the year 2020.

These games were also cool, I just had less to say about them:

Death Stranding (PlayStation 4, 2019): Death Stranding, much like Metal Gear Solid V, was a game I enjoyed for the gameplay and not much else. The story, characters, and writing were a huge disappointment for me, but man if I didn't enjoy lugging those boxes around and setting up my hellish cross-continental goon summer camp lookin' zipline network. Mr. Driller Drill Land (Nintendo Switch, 2020): I am a known Mr. Driller Enjoyer, and I enjoyed this Mr. Driller. Originally released for the Gamecube, Mr. Driller Drill Land is another long-time Japanese exclusive that finally came stateside this year and it's packed with new and novel twists on the Mr. Driller format. It looks super sharp, the music's great (also the credits music is the most impossibly out of place and extra as hell shit in the world and it's hilarious), and it's just a good ass time. The main campaign is pretty damn short, but if you're a post-game content kinda guy it has that and it's all super hard. Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 1+2 (PlayStation 4, 2020): They finally made another good new Tony Hawk game, and all it took was perfectly remaking two of the best old Tony Hawk games! Plays exactly like you remember it with the added benefit of the best mechanics from up to THUG1, looks great, packed full of content, even has most of the music alongside some mostly crappy new stuff. It's the full package as is, but I do hope they end up adding THPS3 to it eventually. Mad Rat Dead (Nintendo Switch, 2020): Mad Rat Dead was a pleasant surprise that I only picked up because I saw a couple of people on my Twitter timeline constantly talking about it. A fun and inventive platformer where all your actions need to be on beat with the music. The gameplay feels great (aside from some not so great performance issues on Switch), the soundtrack is fun, and it's got a real good style to it. Demon's Souls (PlayStation 5, 2020): I love Demon's Souls and this is Demon's Souls. It plays exactly the same with some minor quality of life changes. I don't agree with many of the artistic changes, but there's no denying it looks incredible on a technical level. If you want to play Demon's Souls again or for the first time, this is a perfectly valid and fun way to do so. Groove Coaster: Wai Wai Party!!!! (Nintendo Switch, 2019): Groove Coaster is one of my favorite rhythm games, and they finally made an acceptable at-home version with Wai Wai Party. It's not a perfect replication of the arcade game control-wise, I have some issues with the song choices, and the pricing is frankly fucking ridiculous if you're not a Groove Coaster maniac like I am, but the same ultra satisfying gameplay is all there. You can even play it vertically in handheld mode! Flip Griiiiiiiip!

And we're done! Phew! Honestly didn't realize I played that many good games until I typed all this out. Thanks as always for reading this far. I'm gonna try and get back to regularly posting Breviews this year at the very least. Honestly don't know if I'll get anything else up on here, but we'll see. Here's to hoping 2021 is a little bit less of a nightmare!

#article #Year Wrapup

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