#...sounds the same to me to the point that some of the songs feel indistinguishable
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With the latest bp album dropping today and seeing that nothing has changed the last two years, I’m curious if you can help me understand why I find it all so….mediocre. I can tell that part of it is the effect you’ve brought up with Hybe of too much money smoothing out all character. I also feel like this is a case where keeping the same collaborators has meant doing the same song with tiny changes 5 times, unlike a lot of other groups where they still have variety while keeping a more consistent overall identity. But they feel very bland in a different way than hybe groups do, and I can’t put my finger on why.
nothing blackpink does has a concept.
well, that's mildly facetious: their concepts are 'what if we were cool and influencers and most importantly GIRLS', and that's a non-entity at this point. visually, none of that means anything and all of it is indistinguishable from each other.
i think this is a great question to illustrate exactly why spectacle (the form) is not as simple as slapping together the most bombastic set pieces and ideas you can think of and calling it a day. in order to make good spectacle, you have to put just as much work in as you do with any other type of art. your ideas have to be grounded in a visual logic that drives the entire world you create: sets, costumes, lighting, even text and sound all have to be interlinked, to communicate with each other.
since it's also on everyone's minds right now, let's use nct 127 as an example. specifically, let's use 2 baddies and sticker. both of these mvs superficially carry the same basic visual ideas: there's very bright and highly saturated colouring and a lot of neon, there's a car, and there's a lot of highly decorated costuming. but each of these mvs have highly specific themes and concepts in which they ground both these more general principles.
sticker draws a direct comparative between the old west and the aestheticized neo(n) techno future that has a basis in science fiction and techno orientalism, and within that comparative there's a line drawn between hackers and cowboys, as figures that operate outside of the law on their own moral codes. throwing in the lowrider is another connection to operating outside the law, as lowriders can only be created via modding/customization and the mods themselves are technically illegal. one can pick apart several different meanings from sticker however they desire, but my point is here that the concept has a context and logic. the imagery and production design are all based around that specific theme, and the styling is uses very obvious markers from cowboy/western fashion to further drive the point home.
and 2 baddies. oh there are some LAYERS to 2 baddies. firstly, one of the main visual motifs is geometric art deco style patterning, which is an arts and design movement that started in the mid 1920s and continued up until around the 40s. this movement did not just impact visual arts, but it also heavily impacted commercial and industrial design, which included both architecture (famously, the chrysler building) and, very notably: cars. this era is the boom of the automobile and the art deco movement in particular produced some of THE most beautiful cars of all time, including:
the bugatti aerolithe
the delahaye 177 rs
the delahaye 165 cabriolet
and one of my personal favourites, the phantom corsair
you know who else was designing cars in the 1930s and 40s? porsche:
the porsche type 12, 1931
the porsche 356 no. 1, 1948
and just as an extra fun lil detail, in the chorus of the actual song, there's a sample of a vintage car horn (it's right after the line 'don and manner'), which is the horn of a ford model a, which was ford's second model that replaced the model t, the car that popularized driving. and when was the model a produced?
and like with sticker, the styling draws directly from the clothing associated with concept, as it has very distinctive visual signifiers. we haven't seen any of the stages yet but i'm willing to bet that most of the styling is going to be based around motorsport gear. this goes across the board for pretty much every 127 styling: it is very obvious which era a performance is from just by looking at the costumes, because they use those very distinctive unified visual signifiers.
now, can you do this with a blackpink cb? name me a significant visual difference between any of their mvs. any of their stylings. all their mvs are colour graded the same, they reuse the same general imagery, there's no coherent theme holding anything together, and all their outfits are typical heightened kpop girl group. using just pure bombast works once or twice, but like as we've seen with their music, when you reuse the same imagery over and over again it loses impact. there's no spark. it gets boring.
#also all of their choreography is the same. sorry#another important thing to note here is that keeping the same collaborators does not always mean that you always produce the same work#sm works with a lot of the same people across different groups + cbs and almost never produces anything with the same degree of 'sameness'#if you are working with the same people constantly and you are producing the same thing every time:#someone or all people in that creative relationship are bad at their jobs. that's the truth#kpop questions#blpk w#nct w#for all they have the life sucked out of them bts does actually switch up their concepts enough that it does make each era distinct#blackpink has not done that a single time. their concept is literally 'we are blackpink'#why do you think they say their name so fucking much in their songs. bc there's nothing else that makes it distinct#groups build identity through numerous different ways but it's always a combination of: the idols faces/voices#choreography/movement styling and music type#when you switch concepts frequently but keep specific throughline threads THATS how you establish signifiers#without making people bored#sure by making everything the same all the time we all definitely recognize blackpink. but like. that's not interesting to keep watching#text#answers#listen. i dont think its gonna happen BUT if we see 127 in like. glitzer 30s-40s suits im going to YELL#i'm hyped for the 2 baddies era bc i love any time i get to flex my car knowledge and SPECIFICALLY my art deco car knowledge#literally one of my favourite things ever i can look at these cars all day#back home i used to go to car shows all the time. a well designed car is one of the most gorgeous pieces of machinery#i have actually seen a real ford model t. i think it was from 1914? a guy in my hometown had one#it's so funny to me bc theyre going to have to change the '2 baddies 1 porsche' line for music shows bc its a brand name?#like cix had to change ferrari to 'mercy' for 458 (hilariously - another cb literally about a car)#the classic 911 design was first introduced in the 1960s so it is technically outside the scope of being an 'art deco car' BUT#it very clearly takes inspiration from some some of the shapes that were floating around at the time like with the aerolithe#AND porsche was experimenting with that shape with the type 12#it just took a couple extra decades for them to finally get there. close enough imo
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Notes on amapiano
Here's everything I've written about amapiano this year, with lots of embeds of songs I've liked so far (the first few songs are from 2022). Come for the tunes, stay for the hilarious anecdote Robert Altman shares about a conversation with Stanley Kubrick.
1/25/23
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I've been underwhelmed with the avalanche of amapiano I've heard in the past few years after falling in love with the sound in 2020. I keep feeling like I'm intruding in the middle of a party and don't understand how to join in the dance. But now and then a standalone track gets its hooks in, and there's something about the synth hook and percussion accents on "Nazoke" that gives it a live jam quality. This is practically the opposite of what I love about other amapiano, whose more synthesized sounds approximate something close and warm without fully moving into the realm of the acoustic (my standard-bearer in the genre is still Semi Tee's 2020 LP release I'm Only Tweenty One, which I don't think exists in a physical copy, but I went ahead and made a CD of it, album art and everything).
Amapiano builds on a deceptively simple template: the foundation is almost always a shaker playing sixteenth notes at about 112 BPM (though the accent of the pattern can vary, the shaker is usually steady and omnipresent), and each song then layers in its own palette of sounds and voices, everything in percussive service of the groove. That standardized base and consistent tempo lets you click different songs together like LEGOs, though amapiano is also known for relatively long song lengths.
Amapiano is in some ways the flipside of baile funk, which isolates strange rhythms and sounds and timbres and ideas and forces you to reckon with what the fuck they're doing in relation to each other in sequence -- it's Eisensteinian montage. By contrast amapiano is more like pointillism: you're not thinking closely about any single point, and from a distance everything takes on a dreamy texture that it would lose if you inspected too closely.
Amapiano artists will often take warm acoustic percussion and pretty, playful vocals -- all of them bringing a soft swing feel, somewhere between dancing and swaying -- and pit them directly against much harder four-on-the-floor house elements (synth blares, jagged squelchy bass hits) put off at a seeming distance, like the distant echo of a car alarm going off way down the street that happens to be in the same key as the song you're listening to in your headphones. The palettes artists use and the way they layer everything in vary from song to song and artist to artist, but because the foundation is so similar across the songs, changes in the genre over time can be subtle enough that it almost feels like you're watching evolution at the individual genetic mutation level.
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And there are tons of cool vocals in amapiano, hard posturing and playful posing becoming indistinguishable (as they are on this song -- or, if not indistinguishable, a kind of multiple perspective game where you can see it both ways) as it all washes out in the sound bath along with everything else. And heck, sometimes you get a no-foolin' xylophone, too, not even the thing most people think is a xylophone but is actually a glockenspiel. Or you get a synth that sounds like a vuvuzela. Why not?
2/3/23
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The first 2023 amapiano track I enjoyed, this one entirely in English, and maybe not coincidentally one of the rare amapiano vocals I've heard that threatens to grab a spotlight for itself instead of sharing equal space with, say, those synth samba whistles -- a tone that drives me crazy when my kids play it on the keyboard, here mixed to evoke birdcalls in a rainforest.
2/8/23
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Utter joy. Sho Madjozi has been on my radar for a few years: was covered rapturously at the Singles Jukebox and had shone in the People's Pop 4-Letter-Word tournament with "Huku." This jumped out immediately as a frontrunner for song of the year so far. (Maybe a bit early to call it.) The style is interesting -- seems to be finding a midpoint between the harder house beats of gqom and the limpid immersion of amapiano. A party. Should be huge.
2/15/23
Rihanna should make an amapiano album.
2/24/23
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Upbeat amapiano featuring one of the titular "2 peers" on my favorite amapiano album of 2021, Semi Tee & MDU aka TRP's Tales of the 2 Peers.
3/15/23
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Two amapiano tracks that go for a lush, blissed-out sound that I associate with Sun-El Musician—more cinematic, fewer surprises buried in the mix. Joshua Minsoo-Kim calls “Kwelinye” the amapiano song of the year so far, and Mellow & Sleazy the most important amapiano artist right now. The second part might well be true — everything I’ve heard is great — but I’ll admit I have a hard time making distinctions when the music is aiming so squarely for beauty (it’s something that keeps me at a distance from Sun-El Musician’s work, which I admire more than I love).
3/22/23
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Picking representative amapiano on a weekly basis is becoming a daunting task, as I could easily make a whole mix of the stuff each time. (Doesn’t help that I can’t seem to tell the difference between the stuff no one is listening to and the stuff everyone is listening to.)
This one stood out, both its distinctive shuffle and the singer’s mellow rasp: as the hummed hook intensified (“mm-mm, mm-mm”), from the backseat my youngest asked “what are the kinds of noises they’re making in this song, and why would someone make those noises?” I think he was taking notes; I didn’t have an answer.
3/28/23
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Lots of music scenes are almost impossible to follow on Spotify, as the current stuff is uploaded first to YouTube, so Spotify is a, er, spotty indicator of popularity. Amapiano is a big exception, as playlists with variations on the phrase “Amapiano Grooves” have almost everything I’ve found in other places online. This is my requisite amapiano of the week: some millennial R&B girl group vibes in the interplay of the singers.
The amapiano track I was most surprised by this week was Major Lazer’s attempt to get in on the sound.
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They get it wrong in telling ways. They build a spotlight for the singer, changing focus right and left to direct our attention. What you end up with is overwrought production with a melody line that sounds weak instead of diffuse; it can’t handle the spotlight.
Amapiano’s strength is in letting everything cohabitate in surprising ways. It’s like a Robert Altman film—he’ll let everyone play together in a series of long shots; your attention has to find its own resting point. It all seems intentional, but you can’t feel Altman guiding your attention. There’s a great interview where Altman describes trying to explain to Stanley Kubrick how he got an incredible shot, in the opening scene of McCabe and Mrs. Miller, of Warren Beatty lighting a cigar in the dim murk of the evening—a shot Altman had filmed personally while his cinematographer was away.
Altman: “He [Kubrick] said, ‘but how’d you know you got it?’ I said, ‘I just assumed we did.’ And he had a hard time understanding, because Stanley really liked to be very precise about everything, and he wanted to be exactly proper.”
I doubt Stanley Kubrick could ever make anything like a Robert Altman film for the same reason I doubt Major Lazer could ever make a good amapiano song. They figure you must have to do something to get it.
#amapiano#music writing#music criticism#sho madjozi#kabza de small#major lazer#robert altman#2023 music#Youtube
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Portishead - Dummy
Trip hop is one of those genres where there are like three artists in the whole scene and all of them are legendary. That was kind of an early 90s mood honestly what with grunge being the same. Portishead's sound may be indistinguishable from their contemporaries for a lot of listeners but where Massive Attack and Tricky are coming from a hip hop sound Portishead has more in common with dub and jungle. They have slowed down the breakbeat to the point that its more implied than extant. Dummy develops a spacey, smokey atmosphere thats a little more tripped out and mellow than any other trip hop artist.
Prince - 1999
Yes! YES! In a sane world this would easily be Prince's best album. It's only by the grace of some flamboyant fag god that it isn't. 1999 is filled with huge funky beats and extremely corny synth lines. All the while Prince sing about what Prince knows best: sex. A third the album is made up of seven plus minute funk jams. Three in a row in fact. You'd think that going from the seven minute Let's Pretend We're Married to the eight minute D.S.M.R. to the nine minute Automatic would be tiring, but there is nothing tiring about 1999. This album which ranks 2nd or 3rd in Prince's discography for me would easily best most other artists best work by a mile.
Pink Floyd - The Wall
Roger Waters clearly decided at the height of Pink Floyd's popularity that, instead of going to therapy, he should just get all his problems out in the form of a sprawling concept album. The Wall is lyrically and thematically dense and careful in its use of musical motifs. The four note riff that accompanies main character Pink at every turn becomes a musical symbol of his downfall. And lyrically Waters is working through so many things. His feeling toward his dad, war, stardom, and his fans. His hatred for Thatcherism and the boarding school syatem. Disillusionment and the desire to escape. It may be a lengthy album, but it still packs a lot into that time. The Wall weaves a rich tapestry, its a lot to take in, but there are enough catchy songs to make the first listen as enjoyable as hundredth.
Queen - A Night At The Opera
It seems like a crime to separate A Night At The Opera from its sister album A Day At The Races, but this is the only one that critics liked. A Night At The Opera is a deliciously eccentric album. Its content to jump back and forth between ripping hard rock solos, jaunty little ukelele tunes, prog rock epics, and other miscellania. The whole thing really earns the right to be named after a Marx Brothers film with all the camp and it does feel as dramatic as an opera at times. Nearly every song feels like it could be the centerpiece to a different album. Most people probably consider meme legend Bohemian Rhapsody to be the album's centerpiece, but for me it has to be The Prophet's Song because not a lot of songs can pull off the transition from prog rock number to acapella fugue and back with such ease and style. Everything is so tight and ao technically proficient. The whole album is a well oiled machine that just produces serotonin.
Ray Charles - Modern Sounds In Country And Western Music
In an era when soul, gospel, and R&B were still called 'race music' it was an incredibly bold move to release this record. Modern Sounds In Country And Western Music consists of lush soul covers of contemporary country ballads. Not only was this the most popular album of Ray Charles' career it also revitalized interest in country music. Where the nashville sound is lush he went lusher with more strings and backup vocalists. Where country musicians croon he croons like he was trying out for the rat pack. He takes everything that country music does well and then does it better as a soul songs. This man outdid an entire genre of music! This album has the biggest dick energy in musical history probably.
Mary J. Blige - My Life
Mary J. Blige is back and her second album brings more of the R&B with hip hop beats rhat we saw on her first album. Although there is more neo soul style crooning and less funkiness which makes My Life a little less interesting than her debut. Its still a pretty great album though if you liked Whats The 411? then you'll probably like My Life.
Beastie Boys - Paul's Boutique
This is the most nonsensical, unfocused, chaotic, and stupid album in the entire Beastie Boys catalogue. It is one of my favorite hip hop albums of all time. The rowdy childlike goofiness is so fucking infectious. I dont know how they get away with singing an entire song about eggs and then asking me to take anything seriously ever again. I love it. The beats are next level though. Look up a list of the samples used on Paul's Boutique and you'll be floored by the sheer number. The Sounds Of Science samples five different Beatles songs and then also samples Isaac Hayes, James Brown, Pato Bantin, and Boogie Down Productions. It feels like they chose half their samples strategically to make brilliant beats and then a few goofball choices like the theme from Magilla Gorilla or Folsom Prison Blues. The incredibly vortuosic production combined with the childlike off the cuff sound is really amazing. They worked so hard to make it sound like they weren't even trying.
U2 - Achtung Baby
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#500 album gauntlet#portishead#prince#pink floyd#queen#ray charles#mary j blige#beastie boys#U2#Youtube
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as an ikon stan the boys really need to smuggle something off of hanbin's hard drive into yg's studios because their music without him just doesn't hit the same. his compositions were really the soul of ikon :/
I just think iKon has to go a different direction now. I like the direction they took tbh. "But You" is almost indistinguishable as an iKon song imo. I was thinking about that while listening.
I was thinking about this earlier too but I feel like iKon just matured like WAY too quick. A member leaving, a member who was dating (doesn't seem like Song and Daisy are still involved tbh but idk for sure), and a married member WITH a baby, an executive producer leaving too? Like this is A LOT of tea for less than 10 years. 7 years is a lot in kpop years but damn. Not many groups have THIS much tea that quick. IDK where I'm even going with this LOL
Back to your point, I DO miss B.I's influence A LOT but this mini also has WINNER members added, no Teddy or Choice ANYWHERE, and some other people as well. They are in a really experimental phase where they are trying to "re-find" their sound without B.I. It's just like when during the time when a Taehyung left WINNER and then they came out with the "Really Really" tropical-ish sound which to me is their signature now? IDK if I would want "But You" to be their signature sound because it's definitely a throwback and would make them sound dated after a while.
I'm rambling but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm open to a new sound and I'm curious as well. However, the sound they had with B.I. is a bit missed. So I think they do need to add some Teddy and Choice back here and there so something can sound like "old" iKon sometimes as well.
Am I even making any sense? I feel like I'm rambling but not making my point very well LOL
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clumsy
Hermione Granger x fem Slytherin!reader (fluff)
requested: (@chokemepansy) im terrible at requesting because i blank on ideas BUT anything for hermione please <3 take your time ily 💓
warnings: a single curse word, but mainly just soft hours
summary: Hermione has her very first date with you at Hogsmeade (song inspo from Fergie's Clumsy) (pardon my lame ass summary)
a/n: ty for requesting, luv 🥺 hope you like it! i made the reader slytherin just bc of you <3 and yes, i put in an outfit inspo but it's not like the cringy ones from wattpad
(gif not mine, cred to owner)
You came to love the smell of parchment and books. The sound of pages being turned, the feeling of a new book in your hands. You loved them because it made you think of Hermione.
Merlin, you were infatuated with everything about her. The excitement in her voice when she talked about her favorite books, the small paper cuts on her fingers from turning the pages – she didn't mind them as it was normal for her – and the look on her face when she received praise from professors.
She was all you thought about and you wanted to go to the top of the Astronomy Tower and yell out "I LOVE HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER" for the whole school to hear. And you were positive she felt the same. Hermione would refuse to let go of your hands when you walked together from class and on some occasions, you'd catch her staring at you during study sessions. Just like she was doing now.
"Miss Granger, for the last time, I am asking you what are the contents of polyjuice potion?" Snape was hovered over her desk. Hermione jumped in her seat and turned to face the brooding professor. Your Slytherin housemates who sat at the back of class laughed at her startled state as she named the contents. You looked back and glared at them all. When Snape left your table and continued his lecture, you leaned closer to Hermione and whispered as low as you could, “Are you okay? You seem kind of distracted,” you noticed.
“Y-yes, I'm fine,” Hermione stuttered. Snape excused the class and Hermione waited for you to be done packing your things just so she could hold your hand to the Great Hall. “Are we still going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?” you asked.
“Harry’s got detention with McGonagall for ‘ accidentally’ turning Crabbe into a water goblet in class,” Hermione used her free hand to make air quotations, “and Ron’s busy with Lavender that day.” She had a sad look on her face, thinking that they wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade after all. You picked up on it and had an idea. “So, just the two of us then?”
Hermione’s chest became warm, “Okay. It's a date.” Your eyes slightly bulged out and to Hermione, you had an indistinguishable smile, “I mean, not like a date date, but a girls date.” You weren't sure if she meant it like that, but you laughed at her stumbling her words. The always composed girl becoming a cute, blubbering mess for you. Not that you knew for sure it was because for you but you’d given it a lot of thought.
She never held Harry’s hand like she did yours unless he was upset about something and she was comforting him. And she certainly never held Ron’s hand. Nor does she ever hug him knowing Lavender would go ballistic. Not that she’d ever want to. He was her best friend, yeah but she had never gotten used to it. They both had an unspoken thing to not hug.
“Sounds fun,” you chirped, “can’t wait for it.” You gave her a lingering hug before going to your table. You sat in between your best friends Pansy and Daphne. Pansy had a smirk on her lips once you were in her line of sight, “Did you finally tell Granger?” You knew what she was talking about and nudged her arm with your elbow, “Shut it.” The two girls chuckled and gave each other knowing looks. “I might tell her on Saturday,” you disclosed.
They had matching shocked faces; for nearly a year, they’ve watched you pace around their shared dorm debate with yourself whether or not to tell her about how you feel. You’d have a sparkle in your eyes every time you talked about her and nearly spent every day with her. They weren't upset about it. In fact, they couldn't wait to see you two together. But you were unexpectedly insecure by thinking of the worst case scenario in which she’d reject you.
“That’s great, Y/N/N. I’m so happy for you. I know everything will turn out well,” Daphne supported. Pansy nodded and pointed to Daphne as to say ‘Me too’. You grabbed the hands of both girls and held them tightly, “Thanks, girls. I love you guys.” You wrapped an arm around both of them and brought them in for a hug. Daphne returned it while Pansy made a fake coughing sound. “I can’t b-breathe,” she exaggerates. You held on for a couple seconds more before letting go and started eating. “Okay, so how is this happening?” Pansy asked.
“We’re going to Hogsmeade together on Saturday,” you inquired. “So the whole lot is going as well?” Pansy was talking about Harry and Ron of course.
“No, just the two of us alone,” you replied, taking a bite of the chicken on your plate.
“You mean, this is a date?” Daphne exclaimed. “We’re going to help pick an outfit, no questions asked.” She had a stern look that dared you to talk back. As sweet as Daphne is, once her mind is set to something, she doesn't budge. You accepted it and was met with her usual warm smile. Inside, you were ecstatic and couldn't wait for Saturday. Your crush has gone on for too long, and you were tired of waiting.
:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆
Your dorm mates got you up at the crack of dawn. And by crack of dawn, it was actually 10 am at most. They made you change into every outfit they picked out which totaled in 8. You appreciated everything they were doing, but some of the outfits were too much for a day in Hogsmeade. Daphne picked out tennis skirts with cropped argyle sweaters. Pansy picked short dresses that stopped at your mid-thigh and black wool turtlenecks to go over them. They had completely different aesthetics which is what probably made them perfect friends.
You settled on something casual; a thick striped long sleeve polo with light blue jeans and white trainers. It was going to be a nice spring day and you didn't want to wear something that would be too short and you get cold later. Daphne did your hair in two French plaits and Pansy did your makeup modestly. Once you were done, it was noon and you rushed to meet Hermione for your ‘girl date’.
She took the air straight from your lungs. She looked more breathtaking than the night of the Yule Ball. You distinctly remember being incredibly jealous of Viktor Krum and beat yourself up for not asking her before he did. But now, if he was here, you were sure that the famous Quidditch athlete would be jealous of you.
Hermione’s usually wild hair was tamed into smooth wavy curls that framed her delicate face. She wore a floral print button up that was definitely new as you’ve never seen it before. Or did she save it just for you? Her navy jeans hugged her ankles and she donned light pink flats. And probably for the first time since the Yule Ball, she had mascara and lipgloss on. Casual, but perfect.
Your face was flushed, and you weren't sure if she was also blushing or if maybe she was just wearing blush. “Shall we?” You reached out to grab her hands – her soft hands – and waited for her response. She didn't say anything when she laced her fingers with yours and started walking on the path to Hogsmeade. Hermione was about to say that you looked pretty when she tripped over a small rock on the pathway. “Are you okay?” you expressed concern. She was still holding onto your hand as she steadied herself up, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆
You snorted and had to hold the butterbeer in your mouth, “Ron did what?” Hermione laughed as she told you how Lavender exploded on Ron for forgetting their anniversary and when he tried to make it up by giving her chocolates that he got from his older brothers, Lavender instantly grew a huge chin that drooped over her neck. Ron had gotten so mad at them and in unison, they told him ‘Why’d you think we’d ever give you real ones?’
“So that’s why no one has seen her for a couple days!” you noted. She was nodding as she laughed. You could only imagine what it was like to see it in person. Poor Lav. You went back and forth talking about whatever went on since the last time you were together.
Hermione went on talking about a new book she read about over the winter holiday. The way she expressed her emotions and passion for it made you fall for the Gryffindor girl more. When you hadn't said anything, she stopped and lowered her head, “I’m boring you, aren't I?”
You sat straight in your chair and fumbled your words before reaching out to grab her hand from across the table, “No, no, no, of course not. I could never be bored of you, I love you.” Your eyes widened. You didn't exactly expect to let it slip out like that, but you studied her reaction to see if you could leave it at that or otherwise. She sat still with a poker face. “Y-you’re my best friend, Mione–”
“I love you, too,” she confessed. “Huh?” Please, please, please tell me I heard her right. You didn't get to fully process what she said because after a few seconds, she gathered all her courage and reached over the table to give you a quick peck on your lips. It would've been a sweet moment hadn't she accidentally knocked her glass over in the process. Everyone in the Three Broomsticks had their eyes on you, Hermione’s face beet red and lowered out of embarrassment. You tried cleaning the mess and out of nowhere, Hermione ran out. Fuck this you thought as you ran after her.
“Mione, wait!” She hadn't gone far and luckily for you, she listened. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes averted from yours. “Where are you going? Aren’t we on a date?” Confidence had finally kicked in when you asked her. Hermione’s breath hitched. She couldn't see anything in your face that showed you were joking. Because you weren't. “Yes,” she grabbed your hands and started walking towards the other shops in the small village. Until once again, she nearly fell back when she nearly slipped over another rock on the ground. You supported her back up and giggled, “You’re so clumsy.”
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requests open!
#hermione granger#hermione granger imagine#requested#requests open#hermione granger fluff#hermione granger x reader#hermione granger x fem!reader#hermione granger x slytherin!reader#hermione granger x you#hermione granger x y/n#hermione imagine#hermione fluff#hermione x y/n#hermione x reader#hermione x you#hermione x fem!reader#hermione x slytherin!reader#harry potter imagine
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okay so i got this random idea rn but how would the ros react to the mc getting into a physical fight with someone?
E presses a wet cloth to your brow, a disapproving look on their face as they dab away the blood. "You have to think things through a little more. What am I going to do if you get really hurt? You're lucky this was the worst of it..." they chide before pressing a hand to your cheek, "...At least you're safe. Just don't forget what I said! You need to be more careful!"
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R flops down on the couch next to you with an exhausted sigh as you press a wet cloth to your split brow.
"I suppose it could have been worse," R mutters, crossing their legs as they lean back against the cushions. "If I wasn't there to bail you out, how do you think it would have gone? You're not always going to have an attractive mediator to vouch you out of jail, you know."
"Attractive?" you mock incredulously.
R puts their hands up, defeated, "See? Now I'm regretting it. I'm too kind to you."
The two of you share a small moment of laughter.
-----------------
L stares at you with a mixture of worry and disapproval, a stilling silence hanging in the room as they await your response.
You take the wet cloth off, glancing down at the speck of blood-stained on its surface. "Does it matter why I did it?"
"I suppose it doesn't. My answer may still be the same," L's hands tighten, "I don't understand why you would resort to violence above all things. I'm certain there were better options -- different methods to diffuse the situation. Do you truly find this to be an acceptable resolution? When the animosity has only been elevated? That seems a hollow victory to me."
----------------
V slaps your hand away, "Don't touch."
"Right, right," you sigh, laying your head down on the couch arm and staring up at the rotating ceiling fan. V hovers over you, shaking a powder onto your wound.
"Why didn't you call me?" they murmur accusatorily, "I could have handled it."
"It was just a little fistfight. I can handle it."
"As the Commander, it's your duty to avoid unnecessary risk. It's my duty to fight."
"Why're you so serious about-- Ah! Hey!" you wince as V puts pressure on your wound, causing it to sting. You see their brow furrow minutely.
"Part of the healing process. No complaining," they respond strictly, slapping your hand away once more.
---------------
P brushes away a streak of blood from the corner of their mouth, glancing behind them towards you. "Dumbass."
"I heard that, you dipshit," you growl back at them, dabbing the wound with a wet cloth.
"You were supposed to."
"Trying to pick another fight already?"
P makes a humming noise, brushing a knuckle against their cheek, "At least you can land a hit. Once in a while."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Shut up. I'm just pointing it out. Don't try to inflate it."
You chuckle to yourself, stretching an arm, "I guess you're not too shabby either. There are worse people to make a rival out of."
"A rival huh...?" P stares past the red strands of hair that dip past their forehead, resting their eyes on the dark silhouette of your shadow on the wall. They close their eyes, a small smile working against their lips, "You're such a dumbass."
--------------
M pats their lap with a calming smile, "You need...to rest..."
You attempt to hide the rising blush behind your hand as you press a wet cloth to your wound, "I-It's alright, I think I'm alright--"
Before you can move to escape, M presses their hands on your cheeks and pulls you down. You accept your fate as you stare up at M's pleased look.
"You don't...need to be...so shy...I'm good...at these...kinds of things...too...Just leave it...to me..."
You feel a tender hand rest against your cheek as M presses the cloth against your brow, humming a small tune.
"What is that?" you ask.
"Hmm...?"
"The tune you always hum."
"It was...a song...my mom...used to sing...But I...forgot the lyrics..." M's eyes glance away from you for a moment, "Do you...like it...?"
"It sounds really nice," you say earnestly, attempting to ignore the intense blush spreading across your face.
"It sounded better...with words...If I learn them...I'll sing it to you..."
"O-Oh, you don't have to-"
"Ah-Ah," M taps a finger against your lips and wags it, "I've...already decided...So look forward...to it...Okay...?"
--------------
"You don't have anything to worry about..."
Slender fingers caress your cheeks, lifting your head and coaxing your eyes to open. Dark eyes stare into yours, their lids lifting in delight.
Your voice is slow to escape past your lips, "Raven? What...are you doing here...?"
"I've always been with you," they brush your cheek while inspecting the freshly opened wound on your brow, collecting a trickle of blood with their fingers, "We'll have to get something for this. You made me worried, you know."
The wound finally becomes apparent to you, along with the stinging memory of an assaulter's fist. Your eyes open wider.
"Where is-"
Raven moves your head back to face them, pulling you into a gentle embrace as they stroke the back of your head. "It's alright. You don't have anything to worry about..."
Their dark eyes look onwards, reflecting a world of spattered crimson centered around a indistinguishable mass of flesh and stained bones.
"You don't have to worry. I'll take care of everything for you."
-------------------
"Eh, you're already lookin' a little scuffed up, friend," S gives you a bright smile as he strolls in the middle of your fight, "I heard there was some troublin' rousin', but I ain't expect you'd cause somethin'!"
"U-Uh, that's..." you glance sheepishly at your assaulter past the trickle of blood beginning to flow down your sightline.
They glare at the newcomer, "Who're you?"
"Oh me? I ain't no one ya know. But ya know," S justs a thumb towards you, "They've gone an' helped me out a bit. So...I'll be returnin' the favor!"
S grabs at your opponent's tie, pulling them down as they wind up to smash their forehead into theirs. As they fall, S scrapes loose dirt onto their shoe and kicks it into their face, a smug smirk on their face.
"Hey, ya ain't lookin' half bad like that. How'd'ya feel about comin' back to do it again later?"
S waves the aggressor off as they retreat before turning to you, their expression turning intensely serious as they look at your wound. "Are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, yes. You're..." the words drop off as S's face hovers mere inches before yours. Unable to hide the heat creeping up your face, S folds their arms.
"What's up? Ya gettin' sick? That stupid idiot must'a done a number on ya."
"I-I'm just a little...dehydrated...?"
"Ohh, I getcha! Well that's good, we can fix that!" S ruffles your head with a smirk, forgetting all about the welting wound.
"Ow!"
"Oh right! Whoops," they laugh, not seeming very apologetic.
-----------------
F stares at your wound, a finger tapping under your chin as they hold your jaw steady.
"A fight was it?"
You nod.
"With whom?"
Your move your eyes away, "I don't know."
"Is that so?"
"Are you going to let go now?"
F's finger halts its drumming, "And why should I do that?"
You slide your eyes back, taking in F's jade irises as they stare intensely into yours. You clench your jaw in annoyance.
"I'm not a pet you keep."
F smiles pleasantly, "Yet it seems you're in need of a keeper. Why else would you bring such trivalties to me?"
"That's..." your mind runs blank, only circling back to their gentle smile. You look away once more, "It's nothing."
"Yes, I am certain it is," F whispers, pulling out a piece of cloth and pressing it against your wound, "It is still my place to wonder."
"Why would it be? You're no keeper."
"Yet you come to me in times of strife and suffering? You are quite an indecisive pet."
"Get one that does what you want then," you bite.
"Oh, no, you misunderstand," F's lips part in a serpentine smile, "I'm not seeking obediance. Heeling is half the reward."
--------------------
Enjoy haha
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hello stranger | reader x changbin |
a/n: we are getting to the “height” of the conflict, therefore the angst is gonna start amping up-just as a reminder! This fic talks about self worth and healing from past trauma so please read what makes you comfy! In this chapter, the majority is implied, but still, please read the warnings ahead of time :)
Part 4
Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung
Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst
Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, explicit language, fluffy growing feelings, mentions of food, hello yes I just wanna give this changbin a huuuuge hug
CWs: implications/discussion of past toxic realtionship, implications of negative self-worth and self-sabotage
Word count: 4.8k
Chapters:
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5
Popcorn flew into the air in slow motion and approximately four hundred multicolored skittles scattered the floor like the shattering of glass.
“Yes...yes...FUCK YES!!”
Felix launched his small body into the air with a victorious screech, turning his controller into a projectile. The clump of black plastic thumped into the torn up corduroy couch missing Chan’s arm by millimeters.
“HOW TO YOU LIKE THAT?? WOOOO!!”
Your friend took a victory lap around the tiny living room that was a mess of winter coats and boots with melted snow dripping to the hardwood floor.
“Felixxxxx, you made a mess!” Chan sighed out deeply and solemnly at the array of rainbow colored candies on the floor.
“I never win. You gotta admit the way that I finished that off was extra disrespectful. DID YOU SEE the way that I down-B’d you to pieces??? That was fuckin’ awesome.”
“Good job ‘lix.” You pulled a Twizzler by your teeth and dished out a little wink for him.
“Hey! I haven’t been playing for nearly as long as you two have. I see this as a complete win.”
“Well, Chan and I were at each others throats the whole time, so, we kinda killed ourselves off for you.”
“I still won!!”
“Alright, alright, good job.” Both you and Chan took turns patting his poofy blond hair.
“Ahhh our Lix’ is finally growing up.” Chan sighed, mockingly looking out in the distance to some far away place. “But...now you’ve gotta clean this up. Lucky you’re the one that paid for the Skittles, not me.”
In his fit of happiness Felix didn’t even care about getting down on his hands and knees to pick up the pieces like Cinderella.
Chan took a gulp of his electric green Monster. “Feels nice to have you back around here Y/n. It feels like it’s kind of been a while.”
“Mm, it has. You know how it goes, stuff gets busy and all that.”
“~And she’s been hanging out with someone else~” Felix’s words came out in a cutesy little song.
“You have?”
You slapped Felix right upside the head to which he whimpered out with a much more dramatic “owww” than was warranted.
It was likely a mistake that the two of you had kept Changbin a secret from Chan. Chan basically idolized him, and you felt that it was best not to...complicate things. Every other hour Chan would bring up one of Changbin’s songs, talking about him as if he was some kind of lyrical genius. He had half a plan to meet him at the last show, but had gotten too shy and pulled you both before he could get second thoughts.
For it to be so easy for you...it felt somehow unfair.
It was definitely a mistake.
“Who? Jisung?” Chan rolled his eyes a bit like he always would when spoke of that boy.
“No...” Your voice became small, then you shot deathly glares at Felix who tucked his tail in between his legs.
“Chan...”
Felix’s eyes widened to full moons once he had realized what you were about to do. You curled yourself up into a ball slightly, sweaty hands grasping at your controller.
“Its...Changbin.”
“CHANGBIN?” Chan shot upright from his seat. “Changbin?? Are we talking about the same Changbin?? Changbin-from-the-show-Changbin??”
“Yes.” You steadied your thumping chest.
“When did that happen??” Chan turned his body towards Felix who cowered into the mess of Skittles. “Did you know about this?”
Felix made a little grunt that could have sounded like either a “yes” or a “no”-- it was likely his safest bet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew it would be kinda...like this...”
Your eldest friend sat back down his his palm firmly slapped against his forehead. “Sorry, I’m just having a hard time piecing this all together.”
“It happened after the show that one day. I was walking home and I fell and got kind of scraped up, then he took me back to his place...”
Simply bringing that night back up again sent you spinning into your pool of memories: and they had a particular tendency to make you just as flustered as the night when they had first occurred. There were dozens of little things about him that had stuck with you, even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud.
There was that stupidly confident smirk of his, that little scar on his chin, how his fingers looked in those silver rings, his hooded grey-black eyes, those faint little stretch marks on the backs of his arms, and the way that his Adam’s apple would bounce when you kissed into his neck.
“Well? Chan’s voice snapped you back. “Does that mean...you aren’t seeing Jisung anymore?”
“...Jisung?”
His name hadn’t occupied your thoughts for weeks, and you hadn’t taken much notice of it. There were unread text messages from him that had fallen to the bottom of you message list, and missed calls that you hadn’t returned. Creeping inside of you was a sick and sticky feeling: the kind that you pushed deep down inside yourself to the place where things would get forgotten.
You didn’t know what you wanted from Jisung.
It wasn’t the way that he would kiss you roughly and needily, or how he would take greedy hands to every inch of your body. It wasn’t how he would fill praises into your ears or shake a little when he would finish himself off on your belly. Months ago, it would be all you could think of, then immediately forget after it had happened. That was what made it easy.
Changbin wasn’t easy. He wouldn’t give himself up entirely to you just because he could. He made you earn him, and he made you seek him.
You belonged to neither of them.
In your lap, your hands trembled with a memory of long ago: snowflakes in your hands burning with the cold and your throat scratched from all the yelling.
“Y/n?” Chan softened.
A sob had caught in your throat which you swallowed down with effort. “I-I’m still seeing Jisung.”
“Wait, you’re seeing both of them?” Felix popped up from the floor. “You didn’t tell either of them?”
“I don’t need to. I’m not tied down to either of them.” You had said it as confidently as you could, almost like you needed to convince yourself.
Both of your best friends eyes carefully held yours.
“Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t tell them.” Felix nodded.
Chan nodded too in agreeance.
“But we’re just fucking around?? Its not like I’m cheating on anyone.”
“Y/n, you’re missing the point.”
“What? Don’t I have the right to sleep with whoever the hell I want to? Don’t you think that it’s kind of backwards that I should keep everyone in the loop when I’m just--why would I--”
Chan’s hand snuck over to yours which had started shaking even more violently on your leg; you hadn’t even noticed. The sobs that you had held in your chest started to overflow, bubbling and spewing from your surface. They felt choked in your throat, and then burned hot tears in your eyes. Both of your friends got to work, scooting in right next to you and sandwiching you between their arms.
“You don't have to be afraid.” Felix whispered softly. He smoothed his hand down your back.
“I-I’m not.” You clenched the words between your teeth. “Why-why are you guys drilling me like this??” You squirmed a bit between them.
Chan hushed, “We’re not.”
“Then why does it feel--”
“--You're doing it again.” Felix simply sighed, and rocked the three of your bodies to the tune of your messy sobs.
Chan let out little “shhh” sounds. “Stop digging yourself in that hole Y/n. You know that you’re doing it. Its more than just messing around.”
A tangible and thick silence held the air where your two closest friends held onto you tightly, almost like you would slip away. You fucking hated them for reading you as well as they did, but you also fucking loved them for being as good at it as they were. Being sandwiched like this with them was all too familiar. They had also done it on that same night: the night when your world had collapsed. That night you had been so weak you could barely hold back.
“It’s not gonna happen again.” Chan said at last. “I know that you must think about it all the time, and I’m so sorry that you do. You’re never gonna be stuck in that alley alone again.”
Felix quickly added, “We’ll be there--even if it does--which it won’t.”
“Stop dragging yourself through it okay? I know it’s easier said than done.” Chan took his black sweater sleeve to dab at your tears.
You were completely engulfed in your friends love, the unconditional kind: the kind that would part the seas and walk through flames for you. You don’t know how you could have forgotten how it had been there.
“Maybe its one of them or the other, but, I think you should tell them. You don’t deserve to tear yourself up like this over it all. It’s not good for you, or for them.” Felix laughed a little. “We’re not blind you know.”
Fat, thick sniffles clogged up your nose. Your subconscious and consciousness mudded behind your eyes and those memories of both boys: Changbin and Jisung became indistinguishable. You had sought them out for different reasons, but you hadn’t known why. Now, it was all becoming clearer.
“You like him don’t you?” Felix took his turn dabbing at your eyes too. “I can tell.”
“N-no...”
Felix didn’t even need to say who “he” was for you to understand.
“No?”
“I just...go see him sometimes.”
You would. You would see him, think of him, call all the little things about him to your memory: that scar on his chin and the faint stretch marks on his arms.
Snot dripped down your nose and over your quivering lips and you didn’t even care.
That voice rang in your ears just as you had remembered it on that night when he had dragged you out there, alone, furious. You didn’t even know what you had done wrong.
"I don’t want it to happen again.”
The words tore from your lips freely, finally. The fear that you had held so deep inside, the fear that would plague your every other thought. The fear that kept you from answering questions or giving answers. The fear that brought your feet to Jisung’s doorstep and the fear that kissed away words on Changbin’s lips. A massive weight like heavy metal chains that had wrapped around your body started to loosen.
“How are you going to let yourself have a chance at something good if you don’t try, right?” Chan and Felix exchanged hopeful little smiles.
Felix patted your hair to fix where you had frizzed it between them. “You know what you need to do.”
╚ ——————————————— ╝
[11:18]
changbin: this friday? yeah, I don’t think that I have anything else going on.
its been a little while.
everything okay?
...
i’m sorry if i overstepped that night
you just looked
...
fuck
you’ve got me thinking of you all the time
╚ ——————————————— ╝
Snow fell on your walk to class. It was the same early morning one that you shared with Minho. These days, the two of you had seemed to have gotten much closer. Even though you hadn’t been over in nearly a week, Minho still talked to you as if he saw you there every day. He would complain about little things such as how the rest of his roommates would leave dishes in the sink or socks randomly on the floor.
What the two of you didn’t talk about much was Changbin. There was some unspoken understanding now that the two of you had promised. He didn’t want to know much and you didn’t want to tell him; and it stayed that way. It was odd now considering that you had been quiet before so he couldn’t hear.
Admittedly, that did give you a chuckle or two from time to time.
Today, the snowflakes gathered in clumps and hugged each other while they floated down the the ground where they would melt instantly. This was the kind of snow that wouldn’t stick around. For this, you were grateful. In the first week of February, you had just enough of winter and longed for the green grasses that would peek from the melting white.
The tip of your nose and ears were warm as you marched onward with eyes squinted from the flakes that would get caught in them. In some ways, you were thankful. During the lectures, you would often prefer watching the blanket of white dancing in the windows behind the professors head.
Something you still had to learn however, was picking the right shoes. Your toes were frozen in the same canvas shoes that Changbin had scolded you for wearing. You pulled out your phone the check the time: eleven minutes early. It was somewhat of a personal best.
You smiled with a little pride, missing the body mass that was walking right past you and collided with your shoulder.
“Oh! Sorry, I’m so sorry, I was--Jisung?”
“Y/n?? Holy shit--”
Heartbeats rang in your ears and you felt as if you could hear the very blood pumping in your veins.
“I-I’m late for class, I gotta--”
“--No wait!” Rather than looking angry as you expected, that wide smile of his spread across his rosy cheeks. “I’m just glad that I ran into you.”
“Jisung, really, I need to go--”
His gloved hand reached out for your arm. “I’ve been trying to reach you but I think something must’ve gone wrong with your phone. How are you doing?”
“How am I doing?”
“Yeah, I was kinda worried, it was like you dropped off the face of the earth.”
You clawed your arm away. “I’ve been fine.”
Jisung sucked at his teeth, “Listen, after your class, can we talk? I borrowed my roommates car--I can drive us back to my place--”
“--That’s what you want to do? Talk?” The simmering anxiety that washed over you turned into irate heat.
“Yeah?”
“No its not.”
You slung your shoulder bag high up your arm, and walked on.
“Stop stop stop.” Jisung threw his body in front of your path. “What’s been going on with you? Hm? Did something happen? What is it? Your-uh art or something? You still do that right?”
Jisung had seen your paintings decorating the walls of your bedroom and the sketches that piled up on your desk next to colored pencils tied up together by rubber bands. He had seen them, but he had never looked.
“Why the hell do you care so much?”
“Baby--” He scuffed after your determined steps towards the business building. “Listen, I-I missed you okay?” Jisung yelled into the winter air: “I missed you. Alright?”
“Jisung, it wasn’t me that you missed.”
He stammered, and huffed up those puffy cheeks of his. In one final attempt, he approached you carefully with those cute brown eyes that you would often let slip into your daydreams. He reached out for your cold hand and took it in his. Had it been several months ago, you would have killed for him to hold your hand like that.
“I’ve been doing some thinking lately, especially when I hadn’t heard from you. I just...got this feeling like had done something wrong and I couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. Now, I know that I did. I...don’t like seeing you mad like this. Tell me what it is? I wanna see you at my show next week. I just want things to go back to the way that they were.”
The way that things were.
The way that things were was simplier. Easier. Just like he was. Jisung didn’t ask questions and Jisung didn’t take you out to noodle places just because he he felt like it.
The way that things were would have been easier and his hand did feel pleasantly warm in yours like you had imagined.
“I have to get to class Jisung.”
╚ ——————————————— ╝
On that Friday evening when you marched up to the front door of Changbin’s apartment building, he stood hooded under the tin awning turned to rust brown with age. He huffed out a little under the dinky light of the old building, but as far as you could see, his cheeks and nose had blushed with pink. You wouldn’t have pegged him it for it, but he had draped a thick black scarf around his neck in the same place where he would usually display that thick silver chain. As soon as you locked eyes, he gave you a little wave with knees bouncing.
“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Your breath vaporized into thin, white, visible droplets in the air.
“I thought that I could meet you out here rather than have you wait in the cold. I realized I did that last time.”
“Oh. Uh-thank you...I guess.”
Changbin cracked out a little smile, then announced, “Come on, let’s get going.”
“Get going? Get going where? Did you want to get noodles again?”
He chuckled, then stepped out into the lightly falling snow. It tangled up in his curling locks and got caught in the fabric of his scarf. “Hm-no. Not this time.”
Changbin looked over at you with his stormy grey eyes, something that hadn’t come to you as easily as before. Something in him had changed since you had first met him when he was standing on that stage as if it was the edge of the world. Before, you had felt as if you were drowning in the way that he carried himself, or the way that his gaze would bear down at you as if to test your strength. The aura that you once thought to be crushing had now turned into something much softer.
“You coming or are you just gonna stand there?”
One of his hands which he had tucked into his parka coat wiggled out to beckon you behind him.
“Come on. Take it.”
“Wh--”
Changbin made the choice for you then shoved both of your hands into his pocket. “It’ll be warmer this way.”
You scoffed at the gesture: it was the oldest trick in the book. “Really? Is it?”
In the cramped pocket filled with lint, his thumb rubbed up against yours. You obliged, and he tugged you close to him with each and every finger interlaced between yours.
“See? Feels better now doesn���t it?”
Flecks of salt crunched under both of your shoes when you turned the corner lit by a single streetlight. Both of the fabric of your coats squeaked standing this close to eachother. His scarf was pulled up all the way to his chin, and his hair bopped with each and every step that he took.
“You’re not going to tell me at all?”
“Can’t you just let this happen? I’m trying to surprise you, damn...”
“...Surprise? What...?”
Changbin lead the two of you past another corner to a much busier street in the nighttime: it was bustling with cars and taxi’s and it was lined with little shops on each side that leaked out tantalizing smells.
“Are we getting food here?”
“Quit asking questions.”
Two more blocks, and Changbin’s hand tugged at you all the way down the stairs to the subway where he used his own card to swipe you both in. Down there the sides of the walls were dirtied with old newspapers and cigarette butts, and the walls were of an aquamarine blue hue.
“The subway? We can’t be going too far...right?”
Still, he said nothing while he brought you right over the the waiting area, and the two of you stood amongst the businessmen in their best shirts stained with food smears and beer splatters as well as the nurses still in their scrubs after a long day.
“I said stop to asking questions.” His sentence trailed with a bit of an edge. “Here, stay close.”
A group of particularly raucous businessmen fell all over each other in a little pod closest to you and Changbin. It was as if it was instinctual for him the way that he wrapped his arm around your shoulder to pull you in to his chest where you stood on the subway deck. A dank smell of wet coats and the sweating bodies under them wove to the air once you had entered and mingled with the rest of the passengers. It was rush hour, and the capacity of the subway was near limit, so no seats could be found. You had to bury your face partially into that scarf of his as he held onto one of the straps dangling from the ceiling of the car. Both of your arms wrapped around him in a type of hug as you clung to his frame to keep your balance.
“Only a few more stops,” He assured you.
The lull of the car drew a heavy and sleepy film over your eyes, and you found yourself nuzzling into his warmth and clinging to the fabric of his coat just a bit tighter. You had never guessed, but there was an odd sense of intimacy about holding on to one person on a speeding train in a crowd of people.
“This one.” Changbin nudged you lightly, then pushed a few bodies out of your way bodyguard-style at the stop. “Watch your step.”
He swept your hand back up into his, then he led the both of you to the staircase and the sound of the city that was much louder and obvious than it was at the stop by his home. His smug smirk only grew the higher and higher that you ascended.
“Now are you going to tell me?”
“You’re horrible with surprises. Changbin nudged you with his elbow. “I’m never surprising you again.”
The skin of your cheeks were once more assaulted with the bite of the winter, and it took you several moments to figure out where he had taken you.
“Look over to your left.”
Just past a hectic intersection, there was the soft glow of lights: the first ones that you could see were yellow-white, and they were all tangled up in the branches of tree branches: making them appear as if the leaves had never fallen, but were instead replaced by these luminescent ones. You looked further past them to the entire park which was illuminated by similar string lights of all kinds of different colors: green and red, blue, pink and orange. Every single tree in the park was decorated with them, and they shone upon the area in a rainbow of colors.
“Christmas lights?”
“The last ones that they take down I think.”
“I mean...I wasn’t expecting...this” You gestured to the sea of lights before you.
The stoplight across the street blinked on to the little “walk” symbol.
Confident as ever, Changbin didn’t falter. “Let’s go.”
╚ ——————————————— ╝
You followed after Changbin under the canopy of spiny winter fingers and the lights that were spotted in between them. The passageway of the park was lined with benches on the side of the path and little groups of families, friends and couples each passed pointing out at the whole display. Christmas had been long gone, but somehow it still existed here in this little corner and the joviality it held with it.
He motioned for you to sit and brushed off the remnants of snow caked on the wood.
“I’ve got one more surprise for you.”
“I thought you said that you weren’t going to surprise me anymore?”
“Well, you’re in luck because I planned this one already.”
From his pocket he took out what looked like a thin aluminum container with hinges on the side. The metal was cold in your hands when you popped it open and inside was a small sketchbook with dotted paper and a set of double-sided colored pencils.
“I thought...you said something about colors the other day and how you liked them so I thought you would like it here with all the lights and maybe you could draw it? If you want?”
“Changbin...”
The wooden pencils were of a waxy quality; likely the kind that you could get at a corner store but that wasn’t nearly what mattered the most.
“Thank you. I mean it. I’ll draw something.”
Your heart always skipped a beat the second that you brought your pencil to the paper, and this was no exception. Across from you, there was another bench, identical to the one you sat on, and behind it, was a tree wrapped in pink lights. You set to work quickly, copying the picture as best as you could, not even caring for the little mistakes you could make. Changbin watched you from your shoulder, but you had barely taken notice. Once you had finished, you scribbled your signature at the bottom habitually.
“Here, I want you to have it.” You tore out the page. “It’s a thank you.”
He turned it over in his hand, then lightly brushed his fingertips over the way that you and woven the tree branches together and how it looked like the bench was dipped in the symphony of multi-colored lights. Beyond the tree line, you had drawn a few of the skyscrapers crowning the scene which he traced over too.
“Wow...um, thank you.” He hid his tiny grin after shoving it in his pocket.
Together you both sat, saying nothing, but rather taking in the scene together just as you had done at the noodle shop. It was peaceful simply existing next to another human being like this.
Your knuckles cracked in your lap while you recalled Chan and Felix’s urgings looking over at Changbin while he too wondered around himself.
Its not good for you. Or for them.
The man next to you rose, “Do you want to walk around a bit more? Or--”
“--Changbin...I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” Under the pink glow of the string lights, his skin appeared softer.
“There’s something--I haven’t told you something and...you deserve to know.”
“Know...what?”
His head titled, examining the way that your face had fallen and became twisted up in the words on your tongue. He reached out to hold both of your cold-bitten cheeks in his hands, rubbing his thumbs to soothe you. You thought to yourself, there was something oddly intimate about standing out in the open with him like this: bearing yourself as such for the whole world to see, and how the tip of your nose rubbed up against his.
The words stung in your throat with a pain like acid.
“During this time when we were...there was also-I was also--”
“--I know what you’re going to stay and I want you to stop.”
“What?”
Changbin scoffed. "I should have guessed anyway but, it’s not my place either since we never really said exactly what this is.”
Your voice wavered, “I’m sorry. I’ll understand--” your arms fell to your sides. “--if you don’t want to--”
“--I said stop. Do you need me to say it again? I don’t own you or any dumb shit like that, and you don’t owe me anything either. But, I appreciate the honesty though.” Changbin pulled your forehead to rest against his, exhaling out visible breaths. “What are you going to do now?”
Just as he had done before, he reached down, all the way down your arms to wrap them around his waist.
“I-I don’t know. But--I do know that, being around you is...different and--” You sniffled, “--I don’t want to give that up yet.”
“Okay then.
You held your eyes closed, but you could hear his one and only smirk in his words.
“I wouldn’t mind sticking around either--but--you know what this means then?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re coming to my show next week.”
“Ugh, fine. I’ll go.”
Both of your breathless giggles filled the space between you both.
Your chest shook with a sigh, the kind that had been trapped, or maybe just held in for too long.
His lips were cold under the array of twinkling lights, and he delved himself into you carefully with his focus on nothing other than you. The way that he kissed you was terrifyingly beautiful: as if you were the way that each of the colors from the lines you sketched intersected and became one with the other. The heat of skin and the tip of his tongue filled your mouth with his promises that he had been composing for you since he had met you, and you could finally hear it for the first time. He had never changed the way in which he had done it from that first night.
He kissed you like he loved you, and maybe he really did.
#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#changbin smut#seo changbin smut#changbin x y/n#changbin x reader#changbin x female reader#stray kids oneshots#stray kids drabbles#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#kpop smut#kpop imagines#kpop oneshots#kpop drabbles#kpop fanfic#kpop fanfiction#5k words of hello stranger??? we're wildin#if you've read this far#soft dom changbin#can fold me like a chair#thank you for coming to my ted talk
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Daisies | Tommy Shelby
Tommy Shelby x fem! Reader
Warnings: violence, swearing
Summary: you have always loved tommy, and tommy has always loved you - sometimes love just needs a little push.
word count: 1.9k
I made some changes to Tommy and Grace’s relationship for the sake of the fic
You were running around the school yard the first time he saw you. Your hair in two tight pigtails that swung with every step you took, you pretty white dress flowing out around you as you picked up little daisies on your way. A soft hum echoed from your throat - an indistinguishable song that he was sure he had heard before.
In that moment, he knew you were the one for him.
With an unusual pep in his step on the way home from school, he rushed into his home immediately exclaiming to his aunt Polly, and brothers; Arthur and John that he had met his future wife.
“She’s beautiful aunt Polly, has the voice of a... a songbird!”
Polly cooed at the young boy, his blue eyes bright with wonder as he tried to form words to describe the girl. His brothers were teasing him relentlessly, causing Polly to huff and tell them to sod off.
With a gentle smile, she patted her knee as she sat on the couch - causing the eleven year old to grin before taking his rightful place on her lap as he had done for years.
“What’s her name, Thomas?”
A small frown settled over his soft features, eyebrows creasing as realisation set in. “Well... I didn’t get the chance to talk to her.”
The sound of Arthur and John’s roaring laughter and comments of ‘you don’t know your wife’s name?’ had Polly immediately scolding them and sending them to fetch her tea.
Placing a kiss on her nephews forehead, she tilted his chin with her pointer finger so he was looking up at her. “Why don’t you find the lass tomorrow at school and talk to her, yeah?”
So that’s exactly what he did.
The next time he saw you, you were dancing around the yard without a care in the world about who was watching you. Tommy knew that if your teacher saw you, she would scold you for letting your skirt flow up in the wind and tell you to be “more lady-like,” but you were enticing.
With a racing heart, Tommy picked a few daisies from the patch beside him, before walking over to you. You hadn’t noticed him, too caught up in your daydreams to see the timid boy with a handful of crushed flowers.
A poke to your shoulder caused you to abruptly turn around, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen at the sight of you up close. You were so pretty, Tommy had confirmed his thoughts in that moment – the prettiest girl in the world.
“...Yes?” You questioned after a beat of silence, voice smooth like honey.
“I, uh – got these for you,” Tommy shyly replied back, opening his hand to reveal the definitely ruined flowers. “I saw you pick some yesterday.”
A smile grew on your face as you took a couple of the flowers from him – leaving one in his hands. Before he could stop himself, Tommy was tucking it behind your left ear.
“How does it look?”
“Absolutely breathtaking.”
From that moment, you and Thomas Shelby were inseparable. People knew that when they saw Tommy, you usually weren’t too far behind - and vice versa. The pair of you worked in perfect sync, always knowing the others next move before they had even thought of it themselves.
You were there by his side through thick and thin - from the moment that his father left to when he got back from the war. You were there. You were his safe place - the one person he could count on no matter what. Until he met her.
Grace was lovely, truly a perfect woman and Tommy felt himself falling for the Irish beauty, but neglected to tell you. So it came as a surprise when you had caught them kissing upon entering the Garrison with Finn and Arthur.
A sharp sting blanketed your heart and chest at the sight, a glistening tear sliding over the apple of your cheek and you quickly wiped it away, but not before Arthur had caught sight of it.
It hurt because no matter how much you tried to deny it, you had fallen for the boy who had given you squashed daisies the first time you met. The boy who learnt how to braid just so he could do you hair when your mother was too drunk to stand; the boy who was vulnerable enough to cry to you when the nightmares of France became too much.
You were in love with Thomas Shelby.
Arthur’s arm tugged you to his side to shield you from the sight of them, pouring you a glass of whiskey before pressing a soft kiss to your head.
“He’s daft Y/N, too blind to see that he’s in love with ya.”
Downing the rest of the drink in your cup, you sent Finn a half-hearted smile as an apology for dampening his night, before grabbing your purse and standing on wobbly feet. The freckled boy quickly placed his hand on your back to stabilise you, Arthur immediately raising to his feet to wrap his arm around your waist.
“Let me walk you home, yeah? Don’t want someone to see a pretty, drunk girl and take advantage of that.”
“I’m basically an honorary Shelby, Arthur. I grew up with you – nobody is going to mess with me out of fear that you’d kill ‘em,” you muttered, head lulling onto his shoulder as he walked you both out of the bar.
Tommy’s eyes immediately lit up at the sight of you, ready to wave you over – he hadn’t seen you all day which was extremely unusual for the pair of you, but with one sharp glare from his older brother, his hand dropped back down onto his lap as you both walked out.
That day soon turned into a week, which pretty soon turned into a whole month of not seeing you. Tommy wanted to talk to you about the deals he was making, he wanted to offer you a job as a secretary – his secretary.
He wanted to rant to you about how Grace had told him that they couldn’t be together, that he was in love with someone else - you - and she was moving away; but he couldn’t because you weren’t there.
Every time he called for a family meeting, he would feel a sense of excitement bubble in his chest at the thought of you possibly being there in your chair next to his - only to be let down when he found it empty.
The room silenced upon his entrance, Polly’s eyes looking at him with what he could only describe as pity as he walked over to the head of the table - not even bothering to look at your vacant seat.
Tommy’s eyes glanced around the room, noticing the lack of his older brothers presence. “Where the fuck is Arthur?”
“Haven’t seen him all morn-” John began, only to be cut off by the topic of their discussion slamming open the door. His disheveled appearance and bloody hands sent everyone to their feet as he jerkily ran over to Tommy and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.
“Tom! You have to come with me, quickly! Pol, grab your med kit!” He pointed to the older woman before looking at Ada who had Karl resting on her hip. “You still want to play nurse?”
The girl spluttered, looking towards Tommy with wide eyes causing him to grab the back of Arthur’s neck and place his forehead on his own - grounding the older boy.
“Arthur I need you to take a breath and tell us what’s happening, aye. Why is there bloody on yer’ hands?”
“Y/N,” the boy whispered, barely audible enough for him to hear his own words. Clearing his throat, Arthur shakily placed his palm on Tommy’s cheek making sure the boy understood his next words. “Y/N’s been shot.”
Tommy swore his heart almost broke out of his chest, panic instantly setting in as he took a few steps back - everyone’s eyes on him.
“Is she?..”
“She’s alive Tom, Curly’s got ‘er by the cut- we need to go quick though.”
Tom’s pleading eyes met his aunts who sent him a nod, and muttered a hasty “Ada and I’ll meet you there - John stay with the kids. Thomas, go!”
Not wasting a second, Arthur grabbed his brothers wrist before tugging him out of the house and down to the canal. His eyes immediately caught sight of Curly whose hand was pressed down on your shoulder, your back pressed against his chest - tears sliding down your cheeks as you gritted your teeth in pain.
“Y/N,” Tommy hushed, knees hitting the grass beside you as he took your hand in his. Your head snapped towards him and a relieved expression crossed your features.
“Tom!”
Shaking his head, Tommy gently pulled you out of Curly’s lap and replaced his hand with his own. “Polly and Ada are on their way, I just need you to hang on until then, yeah? Can you do that?”
With a firm nod from you, Tommy pressed down harder on your wound to stop the bleeding - ignoring the way that your blood was staining his hands and new suit in crimson.
“Who did this to you, love?” He whispered, lips pressing kisses into your hair. “I swear, you tell me and I’ll give ‘em hell for you.”
“No need, I already did that myself. Called me a whore and blamed me for my mothers death, I don’t even know him.”
With your uninjured arm, you pointed to the body of a man twice your size laying face down, blood seeping from the wound in his head. “Finally used the gun you gave me.”
“Bloody hell.”
Tommy didn’t leave your side, even when Ada tried to pull him away as she pried the bullet out of your flesh and Polly attempted to stitch and dress your wound. His hand was clasped tightly around yours, allowing you to squeeze so tight that he thought you might break his fingers.
When it was all done, Ada tossed the bullet into the river, while Arthur and Curly said they’d take care of the clean up. Polly gave you her coat after removing your blood soaked shirt, her hand gently running through your matted hair before cupping your cheek.
“You did so well, darling. Get some rest, you’re a proper Shelby now.”
With that, she raised to her feet, gesturing for Ada to follow along, the both of them sending a wave your way.
It felt like you and Tommy were sat in the same position for an eternity, his hand not leaving yours, your head resting in his lap while Arthur and Curly had come and gone with their cleanup.
Giving his hand a squeeze, Tommy looked down at you as you moved so you could meet his concerned eyes.
“What is it? Are you in pain?”
“No Tom - I mean yeah it fucking hurts, I was shot!” You exclaimed before a breathless chuckle escaped your lips. “You’re just squashing the daisies again.”
With furrowed eyebrows, Tommy looked down to the grass beneath you, it was coated in your blood - but he couldn’t help the boisterous laugh that echoed around you at the realisation that he had, in fact, squashed the flowers.
A timid smile crept upon his face, reminding you of the day you both met as he plucked the only white flower that was surrounded in a sea of red. His hand moving to place it behind your left ear.
“Well, how does it look?” You grinned, a blissful sense of deja vu spreading through your body.
“Absolutely breathtaking.” Cupping your cheek, Tommy leant down and placed his full lips upon yours, both of you sighing at the euphoric sensation.
This was it. A love made from soul – and daisies.
#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby imagines#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby one shot#thomas shelby oneshot#thomas shelby fluff#thomas shelby angst#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky bliners imagines#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders oneshot#peaky blinder one shot#peaky blinders angst#peaky blinders fluff#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagines#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby one shot#tommy shelby oneshot#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby angst#tommy#shelby
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Goodbye my dream - part. 08
The sky was even dimmer this time, a mix of greyscales and some white clouds almost resembling those monochrome pictures I used to like so much.
But now the feeling that I cannot simply like them anymore like I used to, it may have come from the recent events.
I kicked my legs back and forth as I was sitting on the edge of an empty skyway bridge leaning backwards to support my body with my arms on the concrete.
Wherever my eyes fell, all I could see was gray.
Even my usual colorful dreams, they are now just a monochrome remainder of emptiness and sorrow.
No sounds, no cars, even the ocean far beyond me looked a tad too quiet.
Birds were flapping the wings with no sound at all and scattered leaving their feathers behind like confetti.
“It’s been a while since I was at such a quiet place”, a deep rough yet gentle voice said.
I turned my head to see that someone was already sitting next to me, wearing a school uniform known for their white blazers blue shirt and plaid pants.
He is… someone from Aoba Johsai, right?
The slightly tanned man, whose half-lidded eyes were colored in an olive-colour did not look at me at all.
Before I didn’t even realize he was next to me, my legs ceased to kick forward as the surprise took the better of me.
His presence had an impact, I wondered deeply how I didn’t realize until now.
He rubbed the back of his neck and then ruffled through his spiked-up dark hair as he sighed.
“The place where I am from is kind of loud, there is this annoying guy”, he gave me a side-glance before continuing.
“Just like you he has those weird and impure way of smiling that doesn’t seem honest at all, ugh talking about him already drops the mood”, I stiffened as I touched my face to see that I was really smiling while the inside of me must have resembled this monochrome world.
This time I won’t interact at all, I won’t talk.
It will end just-
“Can you imagine being childhood friends with someone just to see them suffer? It really annoys me how people can be somehow, no rather it’s only him to be honest. Kind of reminds me I headbutted him, I am still wondering if his head got messed up in a way or two”, the leisure talk went on as he still didn’t face me and loosened his tie, a bag was lying by his side and some practice clothes were peeking out.
I almost wanted to answer but held my breath.
“Then again there are some things that are simply messed up in this world”, he covered his mouth with his hand, “and it wouldn’t be challenging at all to always win right away, so only complaining that the world is such a wrong place, it’s not mature.”
Why do I feel called out?
I started playing nervously with my fingers in order to keep myself from asking or talking to him.
His leisure talk kept on and on, it was soothing to hear him talk, while he seemed scary and harsh at first he actually is someone very caring and soft.
I even closed my eyes and needed to focus to hear his voice since the waves of the ocean distracted me.
With wide eyes I looked down and realized something.
It’s moving and the sound is back.
“You sure are a quiet one”, this time he faced me.
I looked at my fingers and shook my head.
“You know it’s uncomfortable to babble on with no response. I am usually the one listening to some nonsense actually, not that I was talking nonsense but-”
I shook my head again and he frowned in surprise, a slight pout on his face as he turned away.
“I guess I will take that as a way to continue?”, another side-glance as I nodded.
“Scared huh? No wonder this place looked so gloomy in the beginning”, he rummaged in his bag and my eyes fixed the paper he folded neatly into a paper plane.
“D-Don’t laugh, okay? If you make such a face and that place looks like that, then you force me to do stuff like this”, there was a slight blush on his face as he turned back and leaned his arm back, his fingers perfectly holding the plane in place.
A high amount of focus was visible and at the same time he looked very composed as he swung his arms and let the plane slip away from his fingers.
“H-How?!”, I leaned forward to see the paper plane far away in the distance.
I faced him to see his reaction but he looked taken aback as he blinked several times and looked away again his ears red.
“A-Are you a moron? It’s just a simple throw I didn’t put that much power into it”, then he pinched his arm and looked back,”that face suits you better.”
He then pointed with his thumb towards the horizon.
My eyes followed his gesture and tears started to dwell.
The monochrome world turned into beautiful colours, the sky died in dusk and dawn at the same time, the birds dancing in circles as they sang their song and lastly the paper plane that landed on my lap suddenly.
“You know, I don’t know what is scaring you but if you can’t see the problem in front of you, you can’t see the problem that lies even beyond that”, those words he said in a harsh manner but the slight flush on his face told me he was worried all along.
I nodded and this time smiled from the bottom of my heart that made his corners of his mouth turn into a slight smile as well, lifting the constant frown from his face.
“Now you look like someone I would believe in!”, as I wondered what he meant, a sudden strong gust mixed with blue leaves hit Iwaizumi coming from the direction of the ocean.
The gust and leaves were strong, heaving him up into the air, further away from me as he became smaller and smaller.
So it doesn’t matter if I talk or not, it will be always the same?
It can’t be!
Why is this-
“Don’t make that face!”, he yelled smiling in a challenging way.
“Don’t forget this simple thing, you got me?”, it started with his arms slowly turning into leaves and gusts as well, indistinguishable from the gust that heaved him up until there was only half of his face still smiling.
“It will be fine, you are not alone, you don’t need to be strong alone, in life the more people you have the stronger you will get!”
#goodbye my dream haikyuu#goodbye my dream#goodbye#ff#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#hq#hq!!#haikyu#haikyu!!#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu headcanon#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu hc#haikyuu hcs#haikyuu ff#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu fan-fiction#hq ff#haikyu ff#haikyuu iwaizumi#haikyuu iwa#haikyuu hajime iwaizumi#hajime iwaizumi#iwaizumi headcanons#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi#iwaizumi hajime#iwa chan#hq iwaizumi
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Frozen 2 deleted/early content
On the road to F2 there were tons of leaks and I saved as many of them as I could in the fear that Disney would delete them (because they loved to shut down whole websites because of that back in the day). As a result I have a lot of pictures saved on my phone and looking back on them... some don’t sound quite right because it’s definitely not what I saw in the movie. So here’s everythinggg I have. I did my best to organize stuff a bit but there are so many things it was... hard. Feel free to add more stuff in reblogs, replies and such!
Something to note is that we won’t take into account the “officially” released deleted content, which would include everything that’s in the Blu-ray, because basically everyone already saw that (Home, I Seek the Truth, Get This Right, Unmeltable Me, the Secret Room scene, Hard Nokks, etc). Generally, we won’t be analyzing deleted scenes from the official trailers, either, because of this very reason. Something “official” that we will consider, though, are the deleted clips animators have been releasing on Instagram and other sites, because those aren’t that popular.
Before starting here’s the link to all the deleted F2 lines I could find as well as some other additions. The post itself has even more links to other posts containing deleted content so have fun clicking on links.
Last thing to mention, none of the merch photos here are taken by me. I got most of them from the leaks channel of the Arendelle Kingdom server during 2019. If any image in this post belongs to someone here and you want to be credited please let me know and I’ll edit the post.
This post is long. Like really, really, lagging-my-browser-as-I’m-writing-it long. So grab some popcorn and get comfortable or just take a look at what interests you.
So without further ado, let’s get started!
Deleted Artbook Content
One of the most exciting leaks we got were definitely these sample artbook excerpts. None of these pages made it into the final artbook, though.
This piece definitely belongs in Iduna and Agnarr’s backstory, in which the Northuldra leader wasn’t an ordinary man but a shapeshifter.
The biggest picture in this page points to yet another version of Iduna and Agnarr’s backstory. It’s possible to deduce Bruni hadn’t been fully developed yet or created at all since the fire isn’t pink.
The one on the bottom right seems to be an earlier version of the “forest freed” scene in the final movie, or maybe it happened in another moment altogether.
The most interesting of the three, though, is this one. Nothing in the movie points to the existence of a place like this. It’s interesting to note that this peculiar house looks very similar to Iceland’s “elf houses”, tied to the myth of the Huldufólk, “hidden people”, who were said to be small and live in a parallel world, being able to make themselves visible at will.
These are definitely the inhabitants of the Enchanted Lands, who look completely different than in the final movie with their long cloaks, hoods and staves. They look like mages. Were these the very first concepts of the Northuldra, or another group of characters altogether that ended up being scrapped? Only Ahtohallan knows...
Even though the tree and the vegetation illustration is in the book, there’s one missing and that one is the bottom left. One of the most popular theories in the fandom regarding that illustration is that it was an Arendellian military camp tied to the expedition to the Enchanted Lands. I think what we got in the movie is a watered down version of a much more violent and sinister endeavor to invade the Northuldra. The above mentioned deleted scene of the battle of Arendellians agains Northuldrans is proof of that.
This one shows the Arendellian gang and most likely Mattias looking at the walls of a cave with drawings on it depicting the Nokk among other things that I can’t quite make out. I’ve heard people say that an earlier version of F2 involved the gang encountering Mattias in a volcanic cave and that’s where this scene would go, but I don’t know if those are rumors or there’s an actual source. If someone happens to have knowledge on this topic in particular please let me know and I’ll update the post.
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Incomplete Frozen Fan Fest books and their alternate scenes
As I’ve mentioned in another post, Frozen Fan Fest happened on October 4th, 2019, and it was the official release of the movie’s first merchandise. We were all super excited to look at the storybooks and read the ending!
Except there was no ending and the books ended abruptly right before Olaf’s death, completely skipping over Show Yourself.
You hear that? “Elsa bravely dives into the Dark Sea”. We know the Dark Sea scene was shortened and that’s more proof.
This section of a Frozen 2 storybook explains how it went a bit better. After Elsa was defeated twice by the ferocious waves she climbed up some giant rocks and dove back in. Only Ahtohallan knows how that would be effective in this situation and not a waste of strength, but hey, I’m sure it looked super cool and I’d be down to see it.
”Elsa trudged through terrible winds and thick snow”... um... she didn’t? This might’ve been created when Show Yourself wasn’t a thing yet and her path through Ahtohallan was just that, trudging through terrible winds and snow, and not an inspiring song about self-love and finding yourself. I wonder how that scene would’ve looked.
Maybe we can find something relating to that “unused” section of Ahtohallan in a book called “Anna, Elsa and the Secret River”. Basically Iduna tells them that there’s a secret river out there and after the lullaby Elsa and Anna go nuts and try to look for the river outside. Seems like it was all a shared acid trip because next morning they seriously consider it was a dream.
Maybe here they didn’t realize they were in front of a river, because “Glaciers are rivers of ice” and this is what that Ahtohallan Elsa ventured into originally would’ve looked like? The white river doesn’t know...
This is by far one of my favorite ones. I wouldn’t exactly describe post-Show Yourself as a moment of calm and peace. Maybe peace but definitely not calm. Then it says that the signal meant that “she managed to cross the sea”. That’s a really weird way to describe “horrifying ice statue of colonialist grandpa killing an innocent native man”. I don’t know if they’re hiding the actual plot here of if they hadn’t yet worked out all the details of SY and the moment Elsa found the truth.
Anna has her cloak on as she finds the truth. Readers have no idea what this enlightening truth is because the ice statue is indistinguishable.
As it shows here, the original Iduna being Northuldra reveal was going to happen in a different way. I’m glad we got that final version... Because wow, Elsa and Anna are completely unable to connect the dots here. Anna was smart enough to figure out what to do after receiving Elsa’s message, c’mon! This should’ve been piece of cake...
Iduna called Elsa “Little Snow”. This points to an alternate All is Found scene and we’ll talk about that more in depth later.
Same scene. Translation is:
“While tucking the little princesses in, Queen Iduna sang them a lullaby about a far-away river called Ahtohallan, which holds all the answers about the past.
“Does Ahtohallan know why I have powers?” asked Elsa her mother.
“If it exists, it definitely knows that and much more,” answered the Queen.
So in this earlier version, Elsa has always asked herself if Ahtohallan had the answer to her powers... Doesn’t this make Show Yourself work even better? Here she always looked for that answer and she’d learn that she is the answer. I wonder why they took it out because it makes a lot of sense and would give buildup to Show Yourself.
Here what really matters are the squares with text. Olaf never ran through moss or became covered in it. Olaf never looks down a brook to be met by Nokk’s gaze from below. Maybe it’s an alternate When I’m Older?
And relating to that particular piece of merch:
Seems like in an earlier version, the Nokk was associated with waterfalls.
Everyone shut up there’s SWORD ANNA here. Found in a coloring book. I don’t speak Italian but Google Translate says:
“Anna is a brave one: she does not hesitate to draw her sword to defend her sister Elsa and her friends from any new threat.”
GOOD FOR HER! This is definitely from the version we were shown in the teaser, when Anna wielding an actual sword and slicing someone with it was still a thing. Man, how I wanted that to happen...
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Alternate fully animated scenes found in animators’ posts
After the release of Frozen 2, animators started to post scenes they had worked on and showing the process behind them. Some of them were deleted, are different in the final movie, or have a completely different score accompanying them.
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A post shared by Adam Green (@agreenster) on Apr 6, 2020 at 5:31pm PDT
A completely different dialogue during the boat scene. Pretty heartbreaking and it’s even more buildup for TNRT, when Anna was left by literally everyone she loved in the planet.
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A post shared by Trent Correy (@trentanimation) on Apr 14, 2020 at 8:50am PDT
Apparently, for whatever reason, Gale was going to appear in the castle first.
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A post shared by Trent Correy (@trentanimation) on Mar 29, 2020 at 10:51am PDT
Olaf’s revival was going to be way different, and this implies that his death might’ve been different, too. Maybe his snow just dissipated and didn’t go anywhere? Maybe instead of being neatly placed by a waterfall, it fell all over the Enchanted Lands? I have no idea.
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A post shared by Mariusz Furmanczyk (@mariofurmanczyk) on Mar 21, 2020 at 7:11pm PDT
I absolutely LOVE this one, okay, and I have no idea why they’d leave it out. Turn your sound on and listen to the much more tragic alternate score. But more importantly, pay attention when she turns to solid ice: just like in F1 with Anna, her last breath is visible. Beautiful parallels, poetic cinema, and I’m hurt and confused and I want it in the movie. Excuse me while I call the police.
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A post shared by Mariusz Furmanczyk (@mariofurmanczyk) on Feb 26, 2020 at 5:47pm PST
Here the only change is the different score as she unfreezes. I love it so much. It’s so tragic, heavy and powerful. You can basically hear the fragility of Elsa’s fate as the ice breaks and she falls. Help. Here, here, and here, you can see other glimpses of this beautiful alternate score. Once again I’m calling the police and telling them Disney hurt my feelings by leaving this out.
I’ve hit the 5 videos limit already, but here is a link to an animation by jdublish. The change isn’t the scene itself but the completely different siren call Elsa hears. Much more ominous and creepy and I also love it, even though I have to admit the final siren call sounds catchier and more iconic. Also, kids under five won’t start crying of fear when they hear it.
Then there were also plenty of changes in the Elsa vs Nokk scene and we got to see one. Thanks to @justlookatthosesausages for pointing this out and letting me use her gif! The original video was set to private for some reason so I can’t post a Youtube link, but this is @justlookatthosesausages‘ gif:
Elsa struggled way more in the original version. Go to her post to see a comparison with the final version.
And now the awaited All is Found alternate scene! Thanks a lot to @lovewillthaw-j who helped me collect all the scenes.
First two scenes from the trailers: the Official one, Elsa looks up and Iduna gazes at the northern lights.
The Japanese one, in which Iduna kisses Elsa’s hands. @catloafs pointed that out after F2′s release so thanks!
And the last two were found by @antoineharrakblog, so thanks for that! Here and here.
BUT there’s no need to click a bazillion links because @lovewillthaw-j‘s post reconstructs in a single video what the original scene would’ve been like. Go watch it!
UPDATE: Additions by @antoineharrakblog. Thanks a lot!
Here we can see that originally, as the elements fled and Kristoff held Olaf, he yelled, “Wow, you’re heavy!”. Don’t know why this would be removed. Maybe they wanted to keep the scene serious? Maybe they needed to shorten the movie so that it didn’t exceed 100 minutes and cut little jokes like that?
And here, showing Elsa seeing how Iduna saved her father, there’s some deleted dialogue: “Get the prince out of here!” “King Runeard, what did you decide?” in addition to a much more tense score in general.
_________________________
UPDATE: Screencaps of deleted/alternate scenes
Thanks a lot to @antoineharrakblog for bringing all of these pictures to my attention! Multiples screencaps have appeared in different magazines or books that clearly didn’t make it to the movie.
Anna never makes that movement in the final movie. There’s more proof of an alternate/extended “Elsa and Anna talk” scene.
This is another one. There exists a lower quality version of this picture which I can’t find right now, but it shows that Anna and Elsa are sharing kransekake in this particular scene (the particular food that we can see at the beginning of OFA).
These are all part of the All is Found scene we’ve been talking about. In the final movie we can see that All is Found serves as a sort of “bridge” between the past and the present, as it transitions from Iduna singing the song to Elsa to Elsa in the castle, reminiscing. But originally, Iduna finished singing All is Found in the past. There’s proof of this here.
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UPDATE: Novelization deleted content
This information was provided by @theupsidedownpyramid so thanks a lot! There are some really interesting deleted scenes in the novelization.
In this one, Elsa felt the urge to release her magic after hearing the voice at the end of All is Found.
In the novelization Mattias and Yelena’s (or Yelana? Disney will never decide) relationship was a lot deeper than what was shown in the movie.
For more information and a more thorough analysis, read @theupsidedownpyramid‘s reblog!
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Miscellaneous
So there’s only one image in this section but believe me, it’s so worth it.
An animator casually mentioned that there was going to be a head kiss scene. Process it. Can’t? I can’t either.
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Wow I’m TIRED. I must’ve missed something but that’s all my brain can handle as of now. Thank quarantine for giving me the opportunity to work on this post all day.
Disney committed war crimes when they deleted some of these scenes. I have only one question: Why in the world would they do that? And more information might see the light of day in the future. I’ll never get tired of trying to piece together the convoluted puzzle that is the original Frozen 2.
I will update this post if I remember something else or if someone else has more content to share. Let’s reconstruct F2 together to visualize that movie Disney deemed too cool for us!
UPDATE: Into the Unknown: the Making of Frozen 2 Documentary finally has a concrete release date, June 26th. Let’s hope we can see more stuff then!
#frozen 2#frozen#elsa#anna#frozen analysis#frozen 2 analysis#kristoff#sven#olaf#frozen 2 deleted content#disney
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Happy late Christmas to @malevon!! I might not be able to throw you a party but at least I can give you a fic to read to celebrate the last day at your job. This is the longest single piece I’ve written in a long time and my first time writing injury/whump, so I hope it’s comprehensible, at least. It was SO much fun to write, thank you for the lovely prompt <3
ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435182
...
She's coming apart, now.
I’m not scared of you.
Helen...was that...a lie?
Once he heard it, Saw it, Jon knew it was over. Her doors and hallways bend and creak under the weight of the Watcher’s gaze, and she herself is twisting. She’s always twisting of course, but this is different. It’s uniform, too comprehensible for the incarnation of lies and deceit. She’s screaming, crying out-
- it’s me, it’s Helen -
Channeling the power of the Eye comes a bit easier each time, which Jon registers in the back of his mind as vaguely concerning. The corridors are crumbling, colors blending into each other as Distortion and Spiral become indistinguishable. Jon staggers as the walls and floor shift, disorienting still even with the Eye staring down at them. It reaches out, then, a last-ditch effort to save itself. Stretching and warping with hands, sharp fingers that don’t belong to Helen or Michael or anyone with a name. Jon doesn’t stop talking.
He registers a pain, vague and far-off. Everything warps into red and a million colors all at once, and then he's nowhere.
Dry grass crunches under his feet, and icy wind cuts through him. He can’t actually hear it over the ringing in his ears, but he can definitely feel it, bracing and whipping the dark strands that had come free from their bun. There’s a ringing in his ears; it travels into his jaw, rattles his teeth. There's a coppery taste in his mouth and warmth trickling down his face. Another nosebleed. Great.
"Christ, Jon!"
Martin's voice comes from behind, and Jon sags with the relief of it.
"Oh, Martin! Good." Jon turns to greet him. His words sound strange to his own ears. Slippery and lopsided and wrong. The ringing in his ears is replaced with the dull roar of rushing blood. Accented by a rhythmic thud - his heartbeat, surely. Was it always so loud? He can feel it behind his eyes, and with every beat it hurts just a bit more.
"Wh-what happened? There was the hotel and then..." Martin's voice trails off, eyes widening.
Jon laughs, bringing a hand up to wipe his face. His fingers are cold. Which is strange because the rest of him is light and warm. He shivers. "Oh calm down Martin, it's just a nosebleed." He can taste the copper, still.
Martin rushes toward him. He's saying words that Jon desperately wants to hear, but he can't. Not over the roaring in his ears, or the blur of color and static. He can feel Martin's hands on his arms, his shoulders. Jon reaches up, tries to grasp one of his hands. Has his arm always been this heavy? He feels a pulling, sudden and deep - his abdomen. And it hurt.
He blinks. He's on the ground, half kneeling. Martin's arms are around him.
"-my god, what happened? Oh god Jon-"
His head is heavy, eyes tired. He looks down. And there's blood. His blood?
Oh.
He opens his mouth to tell Martin that it's alright, it's ok, it's not as bad as it looks. He makes a sound, he thinks. He hopes, desperately, that Martin understands.
A wave of dizziness overtakes him, followed closely by darkness.
Without himself to talk to, the dismal weather is a bit distracting.
Martin braces himself against the wind and the light pattering of rain. There’s hardly a way to tell if he’s walking in the right direction, or if there even is a right direction to begin with. He’d simply picked the way that felt right and began the trek, hoping he’d meet Jon along the way. Which isn’t an outstanding plan, sure, but Martin has a hunch that wherever the fog of the Lonely ends is where he’ll find Jon. Or, where Jon will find him - not that there’s much of a difference. Regardless, Martin hopes it’s sooner rather than later. His other self had slipped away into the fog long before, with all the fanfare of a breath dissipating into cold air. At the very least he’s walking with the wind instead of against it, though it doesn’t stop the minuscule droplets from painting his glasses. He’s already given up on cleaning them, resigning himself to the rivulets that form and drip down the smooth surface.
When the rain lets up and the fog clears just enough to catch a building crest over the horizon, the relief marginally outweighs the apprehension. The sight of something other than gray mist and dead grass is promising that he’s reaching the boundary of his domain.
Hidden horrors beyond comprehension aside, at least he can get a break from the damn wind.
It’s a hotel, Martin realizes, one of the old kinds you see in travel magazines and history shows. It’s weather-worn and outdated in a way that might have seemed charming at one point, but now practically oozes terror. The wind dies down as he approaches, for which Martin is grateful.
And in a matter of moments, it’s gone.
Although "matter of moments" might be pushing it. One second it was there, and then Martin blinked, and then it wasn’t.
And Jon is there.
"Christ, Jon!" Martin says, half startled-fear and half relief. The wind picks up again in the hotel’s absence, but it seems more tolerable, now.
"Oh, Martin! Good." Jon turns, a dazed look on his face to match his tone. There's a thin trail of blood dripping from his nose. Overusing his powers again, Martin realizes with a bolt of apprehension.
"Wh-what happened? There was the hotel and then..." Martin looks to the space the hotel once occupied, and back to Jon, who’s facing him now. His voice trails off as slow sinking horror creeps in its wake.
Jon's shirt is ripped open, tatters fluttering like wind chimes in the frigid breeze. Four gashes, deep and red, run diagonally across his torso, from mid-rib cage to just above the waist. Blood is coating his stomach, his clothes-
Oh, god
Jon's wiping the blood from his face and laughing - why is he laughing? - as Martin closes the gap, heart lodged and hammering in his throat. He grabs Jon with shaking hands, holding him, steadying him when he sways back. Martin’s vaguely aware that he’s speaking, words and half-formed questions rattled off rapid-fire.
What happened where were you when how oh god fuck fuck-
Jon's knees buckle. Martin brings him into his arms, supports his weight as he lowers them to the ground. Jon is dead weight at this point, head falling to rest on Martin's shoulder. He brings a shaking hand to Jon's hair, then his neck. He can feel his pulse against his palm, light and fast and as frantic as the beating of Martin's own heart.
He lays his down, gently, as gently as he can with how bad his hands are shaking. He rips the backpack open and grabs the first piece of cloth he sees. It's an old t-shirt, one of the few Martin brought with him from the safehouse. A faded band logo adorns the front. Jon had been pleasantly surprised to find Martin wearing it, since he was a fan of the same group. They’d laughed and sang their favorite songs together-
“I can’t believe I didn’t know you could sing!”
“I can’t really sing, Martin, it’s a functional skill more than anything-”
“Bullshit! You’re good! Like, actually good.”
“Is now a good time to mention I used to be in a band?”
“What?!”
Martin crumples the old shirt and presses it to Jon’s bleeding stomach.
That pulls a low moan from him, eyes closed and face screwed up against the pain.
"Sorry, sorry, I know," Martin placates, high and strung thin. Out of the grab-bag of work experiences Martin had gathered over the years, anything tangentially related to health care was nowhere to be found. Everything he knew came from corny 90’s job safety trainings and overly-dramatic television shows.
He wants desperately to check the wounds - how deep are they? Will Jon be able to heal them before he, he bleeds out or something?! - but his arms are locked at the elbows, fists clenched in the white fabric ever-so-slowly seeping with red. He fears that if he were to move even a millimeter, everything would slip between his fingers.
A touch, feather-light on his arm, feels like a shock. It’s Jon’s hand
"I-it's fine, it's ok-" Jon's voice is soft and ragged.
"It's-it’s really not, actually," Martin replies, and it might have come across as playful if it didn’t crack so deeply through the middle. He sacrifices a hand to grasp Jon's. It's ice cold and small and thin.
Martin uses his other hand to gingerly lift the shirt. The bleeding is slowing now - thank god - and Martin is sure the edges have closed ever so slightly. Not that he had gotten the best look before. He remembers how quickly Jon’s leg healed after Daisy-
It wasn’t a miracle though, his mind supplies.
He throws the bloody shirt aside and digs through the backpack once more, Gauze, some tape, a knife, a bottle of water. There’s only a half-roll of the gauze left, and it’ll have to be enough. With a jittering determination Martin uses the water to clean away some of the blood, cutting away the remains of Jon’s shirt as he goes. As the red washes away, the wounds don’t look quite as deep, quite as awful as they did before. He feels the smallest sliver of panic leave him and he draws in a deep breath to calm himself. Martin notices, really notices the wind for the first time in minutes - or hours, how long has it been? It burns the tips of his fingers numb, slicing through him like the knife in his hands. They don’t have anything in the realm of antiseptic, because of course they don’t, and Martin desperately hopes that Jon can heal himself before it becomes a problem. He gently wraps Jon’s middle with fumbling hands, placating as best he can when Jon winces against the movement.
They aren't in the Martin's domain anymore, technically. Just on the edge between Lonely and god-knows-what. But the open, gently rolling hills and vestiges of fog sends his spine tingling. Like a rabbit with no cover, and a hawk circling overhead. Not to mention the wind - now that Martin’s brought attention to it, he can’t stop shivering.
There’s a cobblestone wall, maybe twenty meters away. Left over from the perimeter of the hotel, if Martin had to guess. Wedging themselves into a corner to block out some of the wind is probably their best - only? - option.
Martin leans forward, brings his hands to cradle Jon's face. For as frozen as his fingers are he can still feel the chill against Jon’s skin, which isn’t the most comforting sign. He caresses his thumbs against Jon’s cheekbones in an attempt to coax the barest bit of attention out of him. Jon hums as he opens his eyes, slowly, foggy and unfocused. Whether it’s blood loss or pain or the after-effect of using his powers, Martin isn’t sure. Probably all three.
“There you are,” Martin whispers, and as small as it is he can’t hold back the relieved smile. He presses a soft kiss to Jon’s forehead. “We need to get out of the wind, love. I’m going to pick you up, alright?”
“I can walk.” Jon murmurs, almost lost in the air between them.
Idiot man .
“Not a chance.” Martin kisses his forehead once more, the comfort at the sound of Jon’s voice, ragged as it is, bringing tears to his eyes. He re-positions the backpack and slips his arms under shoulders and knees, rising to his feet with only a slight stagger. Jon cuts off a cry with his teeth, and Martin whispers apologies once more.
The stone wall on both sides makes more difference than Martin had dared to hope. He sets Jon down delicately on the grass, followed by the backpack with a bit less care. As he rummages through it once more - he’d packed that blanket, hadn’t he? - Jon shifts, raising himself on shaking arms.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Martin starts as Jon leans himself against the cobblestone, arm wrapped gently against the new bandages.
“It’s ok, I can manage it,” Jon replies in between deep breaths. He’s shaking, Martin can tell, pale and drawn. Martin grabs the blanket from the bottom of the pack at last, crawling to kneel next to Jon.
“Alright, alright, just stay there now, will you?” Martin chides as he leans against the stone, dragging the blanket over them. He was starting to think they’d never need it, but with the cold air still biting against them he was more than grateful they’d kept it around. “It’s not like we can give you, y’know, stitches or anything, so try not to move around so much while it’s healing.”
Jon leans his head - and most of his weight - against Martin’s shoulder with a hum, eyes sliding shut. They sit in a not-uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Martin takes a breath to ask-
“I killed Helen.” Jon speaks, soft and half-muffled by the sleeve of Martin’s jacket.
“...oh.” Martin says, quietly, because what else is there to say? Then, louder: “Wait, did- did she do this to you?!”
“Not her fault.” Jon takes a breath, slowly. Martin thinks he’s about to fall asleep. Or pass out, but he certainly hopes it’s the former. “It was self-defense.”
Oh.
Martin’s not exactly sure what to do with that, and by the time he figures it out he’s sure Jon won’t be conscious anymore. Jon’s breathing evens out into something resembling sleep - or rest, at least, since he can’t really sleep anymore - and Martin resigns himself to his thoughts and his still-slowing heartbeat. The feeling of Jon’s breaths against him are enough to dispel the last dregs of his panic, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Jon couldn’t have been asleep, because he didn’t dream.
The sensation is similar though; the lost time, the panic, the awareness that comes back to him with all the subtlety of a freight train. The headache isn’t exactly new, but the deep ache that sinks its teeth into his bones is an interesting touch.
He’s against Martin, still - Martin it’s Martin he’s safe you’re both safe - who’s breathing is slow and deep. He’s not dreaming, though. The last dream he had, at the safehouse, was about his mother-
Jon sits up, sudden, fast. He didn’t know that. Not before. But now he Knows.
Knowledge; a familiarity, awareness, or understanding of something-
Stopstopstop
The knowing pushes against him, against the back of his eyes that throb in time to his heartbeat. It’s hard and fast and it hurts -
Fever causes and increase in heart rate, breathing rate, and blood circulation to the skin-
Temperature is considered elevated when it is higher than 38 degrees Celsius, or 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit-
(32°F − 32) × 5/9 = 0°C
He brings his hands up, foolish to think he can force the onslaught back with the heels of his palms against his eyes. His hands are frigid and damp against his face, or is it his face that’s burning against his hands? The movement of his arms tugs against his chest, his stomach, and folding in on himself only makes it hurt more but he can’t stop-
You think you could be saved without paying the price?
T̶h̵i̷s̴ ̵i̷s̷ ̷h̸e̶l̴p̵i̴n̸g̶ ̶y̸o̵u̴.̴
Ỳ̶̧̮͎͔̇̑o̷͚̖̬͈̙̽̅̆̕u̷̢̙͍͙̅̽̌̂́ ̸̯̈̓͠ͅs̵̙͇̗͠͝ȟ̸̩̝̗͚͓̈́͒̈͑o̸̢͉͎̯͒u̸̬̩̯͇̿̿̍͛͝l̶͇̗̮̦͒̾d̴̠̪̰͉̉̃̈́ ̵͍̙̺͖̮̒̊b̵̡̯͕͕̘̑e̶̫̹̒͊ ̴̬͑̓g̸̟̝̻͕̣͊͠ ̶̞̰̯͍̟͌̑̌ṛ̶͍̹̀ ̴̲̭̚͜ã̸͎̼̥̜̦͆͝ ̵̝̺̈̿t̴̢̛͗͝ ̶̺̝̂͛e̴̙͆̆̉̚ ̶̜̦̮͓̱̓̒f̶̢̗͓̥͗ ̷͓̾͜ụ̵̭͋͛ ̵̝̪̃̋͗͘l̶̨̥͈̼̝͂͘͝
He tastes copper again. Copper and static and paper and magnetic tape pooling on his tongue. He clenches his teeth against the need to vomit every bit and piece of knowledge and horror he’s ever known. The door in his mind is cracking now, buckling and splintering with the pressure and the weight of it all.
It was a small, unremarkable door, painted dark yellow, with a matte-black handle.
Something touches his shoulder and he would scream if he could open his mouth. The same something - hands hands two hands - touches his face, his hair-
And he had long, straw-coloured hair that fell onto his shoulders in loose ringlets-
“Jon,” someone says, and it’s Martin because of course it’s Martin. He’s kneeling in front of him, blessedly cold hands cradling his face. One hand brushes his hair back - had it come undone again? - resting against his forehead. It’s so soft and cool and comforting Jon can barely hold back the sob against his throat.
I felt the cold night air on my face and, and wet tarmac under my hands and knees.
“Good lord, you’re burning up!” He sounds frantic and Jon wants to comfort him, but he doesn’t know how. Martin starts on about medicine and things they don’t have and things that Jon knows, Knows can’t help him. He Knows it’ll pass and he Knows it won’t kill him, but in the moment that doesn’t feel like the mercy it should.
Jon shakes his head against Martin’s hands and tries, really tries to tell him it’s ok -
I decided to come to you and tell you my story.
“ I- ” The one syllable is jagged and dripping with compulsion and tellmeyourstory . Jon clamps down on it with a whine, shaking his head again. He brings a shaking hand to touch Martin’s on his cheek. He meets his eyes for the first time, wide and searching. Jon realizes he must look as wretched as he feels for Martin to have that look on his face.
I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry
“Oh, Jon.” Martin must understand, at least some of it, because his face softens. He pulls Jon to his chest - Jon would put his arms around him if they weren’t so heavy-
-held up my arm for a handshake, but he just looked at it, and laughed-
-but he settles for burying his face in the crook of Martin’s neck, eyes shut.
...felt like I couldn’t trust my eyes.
Her statement echoes in his ears and on his tongue. He remembers her face, her real face, before Helen twisted it into endless, sickening spirals. The bounce to her hair, the odd way she held her pen, the bags under her eyes that mirrored his own. He wasn’t mourning her. He certainly wasn’t morning Helen . She didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t mourning the woman he’d never known, a woman he probably wouldn’t have liked anyway , a woman that he let walk through that fucking door -
There has never been a door there, Archivist.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his next breath catches in the middle. It’s silent because he makes it silent, because the second he opens his mouth the words will come spilling out and they’ll never stop. So his shoulders shake and his chest heaves from the force of it, and it hurts . His tears drip down the collar of Martin’s shirt, and Martin - god Martin - has one hand on his back and another in his hair, making soft circles with the pads of his fingers. He’s talking to him, and Jon can’t hear the words over the static and statement pulsing through his eardrums. But the vibration of his voice is gentle, comforting, and it makes breathing just a bit easier. His face is hot and he shivers against the chill creeping up his frame, but Martin is here and warm and safe and Jon hopes that he never has to leave.
“Here,” Martin says - and Jon hears - after who knows how long, shifting slightly but never taking his arms away. He repositions himself, back against the wall, and lowers Jon by the shoulders until his head is pillowed on his lap. The motion hurts, Jon knows, but it’s muted and far away against the burning of his skin and how cold he is in spite of it.
Later they’ll talk, when he’s better, about Helen and friendship and other things. Jon will say I’m sorry for worrying you and Martin will say it’s ok and they’ll both say I love you . But for now, Jon drifts off to Martin’s hand resting on his head, his whispered reassurances reminding him that he’s safe.
“Rest, love.” Martin presses a kiss to his forehead and brings the blanket over him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jon can’t stop himself from Knowing that, not now, but he doesn’t need the Eye to know that it’s true.
#my writing#tma fics#jonmartin#i wrote a lot more than i expected to for this!! i really hope it like#makes sense hahaha#tma
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Lighthouse (CS AU)
Short oneshot where Emma is the Princess and Killian is her longtime love. He’s serving his last deployment in the royal navy and she is eagerly awaiting his arrival. Available on AO3 Here and FF Here.
A/N: This is a fluffy drabble that was prompted FOREVER ago by a lovely reader. They wanted the song “Lighthouse’ by Collabro and the story to include a Lieutenant Duckling Reunion fic. It has been so long since I’ve gotten to write something like that, and I have really missed it, so here is my attempt at some cuteness for you all. Thanks for reading, and thanks so much to the awesome reader who suggested this!
Please let him be safe. Please let him come home. Please let him return to me.
The silent prayers were ones that Princess Emma had begged for more times than she could count. Over the past year, while Killian was out at sea, serving in the royal navy, Emma had been beside herself with worry. It was bad enough to be separated from the man she loved, but to know that he could be in danger all this time pained her heart in shades of sadness she’d never be able to vocalize.
If she had her way in this scenario, Emma would be down at the docks, watching the horizon for any sign of his ship in port. No, forget that idea, she’d be on the ship with him, facing whatever harrowing adventures the high seas might call for without a drop of fear. When she was with Killian, nothing could touch her. The magic they shared was a barrier against anything bad, a fortifying force that protected them both, and Emma felt steadier and at peace. But alas, her destiny was written already, and it held no space for seafaring voyages or long treks on the open ocean.
As the one-day heir of the realm, Emma was expected to put on a brave face and attend to her duties. The people looked to her and her family for leadership and guidance. They all played a part in the health of this kingdom, and her birthright was to inherit all of this someday. At some point in the not too distant future, when her mother and father were ready to step aside, it would be Emma who took the throne, but all the grandeur and the power meant nothing to her, not without Killian to share it with.
Every spare moment she thought of him, and imagined what it would be like someday, when this was all behind them. This was his last deployment under the careful watch of his elder brother Liam, and prior to his going, he’d already received her parent’s blessing to marry her, though not before asking Emma for her hand herself. She’d accepted in a heartbeat, failing to let him even finish the romantic question when she understood his intent. She was desperate to be his in every way, and remembering the smile he’d bestowed on her and the kisses that they shared when she’d agreed, it was obvious that Killian felt the same.
Almost a whole year had passed since that miraculous night, and not long after he was sent away, sailing for the edge of the known world to see what lay beyond. It terrified her to think of what danger may lurk in what was unknown, but Killian reassured her that it would all be fine. He and Liam knew what must be done. They understood the sea and their mission, and Killian swore to find his way back to her just as he had so many times before…
“I just wish that you didn’t have to go,” she’d said, unable to hide her tears in the early morning hours before his ship set sail. They’d run off together to the guest house in the garden, a special spot of theirs since they met when they were younger. For years it had been their hideaway. Killian called it their sanctuary, and Emma always thought that was an apt description.
“Believe me, love, if there were any way around this, I would see the course. You know I’d give anything to be here making you mine as soon as may be. But my brother needs me, and your father has been clear. We need these alliances for the good of the kingdom, and the safety of the people, you most importantly.”
“I know,” Emma agreed, understanding more than most how precious their alliances were with the kingdoms of all realms. This voyage, though long and arduous, would protect them for years to come, and was the last request of Killian’s brother Liam before Killian exited the navy. “You just…”
“I just what, love?” he asked, cupping the side of her cheek and watching her with those beautiful blue eyes of his that always made her dizzy. They were so focused in on her, as if the universe began and ended with what she was about to say. In a world where she was important but never felt truly seen, she’d grown addicted to such attentions. Killian truly knew her and still loved her, and she was more herself with him than with anyone she’d ever met. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him and savoring the warmth and electricity that came when he was close.
“You just made me love you so much, that letting you go feels like losing part of myself.”
The murmured curse he let loose before devouring her lips made Emma shiver with delight, but she was hardly cold. His touch was like a fire, sizzling through her and marking her as his, just as much as she was marking him as hers. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, but it felt mere seconds later when they pulled apart. The brightness of the room and the daylight that was breaking signaled much more time had passed than seconds, but it wasn’t enough. No amount of time together ever would be.
“There’s nothing in this world or any other capable of keeping me from you, Emma. My love for you is constant. Not just for this life, but every one from here to always. Have faith in me, my love, because I promise I will be home to you as soon as I am able.”
Though the words were whispered so long ago, Emma still felt them wash against her skin as the sun began to sink over the tree line. Out here, in the back woods of the palace, she was totally alone, but if she couldn’t be with Killian, that solitude was all she could accept. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fantasize that he was here. Autumn’s chill was back once more. The year was up, and so too should his mission be. In a perfect world she’d hear the gentle crunch of footsteps and catch the subtle scent of ocean waves. The footsteps would approach with precision and determination until the moment just before he reached her where heat flared through her system. She fended off tears at how good her imagination was becoming, and then she felt him, the undeniable press of his body on hers that was so much more vivid than any daydream ever could be. Her eyes popped open and her heart took flight.
“Emma,” he said, nuzzling into her neck as he held her tight and the sound that came from her chest was one of desperation and relief. “Gods how I’ve missed you, love.”
“You came back,” she said, spinning in his hold and seeing that this was truly real. Killian was here and alive. He was somehow even more gorgeous than when he’d left, and he was looking at her with even more affection and love than he’d had before. Tall dark and handsome did no justice to all he was. He was perfection, and he was all hers.
“With a light like yours to return to, there was no other option, love. Trust and believe in that.”
He whispered the words of affirmation as her hand came over his chest. She felt the racing of his heart, and she knew, without his admitting it all that things had been the same for her him as they had for her. She may have been here, and he may have physically been worlds away, but her heart could not reside in a space without him. Now they were together again, and she was whole, happy, and unwilling to ever let him go.
Pulling him in by the collar of his navy coat, Emma almost wept when their lips met after so long a separation. His taste was just the same, his arms, holding her close, the warmest and most soothing home she’d ever known. She was safe here and hopeful, finally believing that the worst was behind them. From here on out things would be different. She and Killian would be together, and there’d never be cause for such sad partings ever again.
“I thought for certain that the love we shared before was as big as it could be…” he murmured, running his hands through her flowing hair and smiling at her, as if he was trying to convince himself that this wasn’t all a beautiful dream they’d both soon wake up from. “How wrong I was in such a thought. This love grows deeper every day. It can’t be quantified. It just…”
“It just is,” Emma echoed, and he agreed, kissing her again and grounding her in a happiness that had been missing for twelve long months. Only when they were breathless, did they break apart, but even then his forehead rested against hers, his arms surrounding her, giving them space to breathe each other in and surrender to their feelings.
“I’ve brought you something, Emma,” he finally said, and she could see the pride in his eyes at the mention of this gift. “It’s something I hope you’ll find worthy of a woman like you.”
Emma knew she’d cherish any parcel from her sailor, but the preemptive affirmations died on her lips as he pulled out a small velvet pouch. Inside the compartment was a ring with a band of white gold, and a green blue gem unlike any she’d ever seen. In the royal vaults there were many treasures belonging to her family, but none that looked like this. It was a sapphire, but colored in such a vibrant aqua hue it didn’t look like any stone she’d seen before. Yet it wasn’t the first time she’d seen this iridescent shade. In fact, it was one that always seemed to find the two of them some way or another.
“Killian, it’s gorgeous,” she said in awe, amazed at how much it looked like the lightest flecks of color in his piercing blue gaze. She knew that in her own green eyes there were flecks of this tone too, a shared sample of their souls, indistinguishable and utterly spectacular. “But you didn’t need to bring me anything. All I need is you, you know that.”
“I do, love. Believe me, a man doesn’t forget such miracles when he’s as blessed as I am. But you are to be my wife, and after searching for some time, I finally found the ring I know was meant for you.”
With gentle ease, he took her hand in his and placed the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit, and matched the modest white gold of the band he’d given her in promise before he left. Emma knew he’d had the choice of any ring in the castle for his proposal, but he was determined to find something special just for her. She didn’t need anything more than the wedding that would come, but when he shared the origin of this particular gem, she felt its significance.
“I found this treasure at a time of great pain. I missed you so dearly, that even the sea could offer no distraction. Twelve weeks into a twelve-month journey and I was homesick, as I’ve never been before. I walked along the beach in port and found this in a tide pool, underneath a rising moon. Liam gave most of the crew some leave for the first time in ages, but there was nothing that I wanted when I knew you were waiting for me here.
“My brother insisted I get off the boat, despite my attempt at protest, and so I wandered for a while, thinking only of you. Of your beauty and your brilliance and the future you deserve, the one I will do anything to give you. The waves in that water are notoriously unruly and sporadic. They rage along the coast and filter into tide pools unlike our shores here, but the locals claim that the sea bring treasures and tricks alike from far off places. Needless to say I didn’t care about these stories. All I cared about was you. I was thinking that maybe I should come home, even though the mission was not over, and then I found this, glistening in the water just below.”
Emma looked down at the stone and their hands intertwined. She imagined each point of his memory, feeling it so surely, it was like she had been there too. It helped in easing the pain of separation, and she settled in the fact that soon their being parted would be just a distant remembrance, never to be repeated.
“The first time I held you in my arms for a dance, you were dressed in a gown of this shade. I’ll never forget that night as long as I live.”
“Neither will I,” Emma agreed, recalling her public debut. She was a girl of sixteen and Killian was the brother of one of her father’s most trusted Captains, a whole year older than her but already in her eyes so much more mature. Now, so much time had passed, but when he smiled at her the same boyish charm was ever present, and she fell under his spell, stepping into his arms as she would to share a dance. Out there, in the setting sun he held her close, guiding her though there was no music, and she tried not to cry the joyful tears that threatened to spill as he twirled her, eliciting a laugh and making her feel lighter than air.
“Finding this felt like a sign, that even we were parted, we would always be together. I carried it every moment since, knowing someday it would end up here, with you.”
“And now it’s here, and so are you,” she whispered, stealing another kiss from him and halting their dance. He was the sweetest man alive, of that she had no doubt, but suddenly that sweetness was not what she needed. What she needed was love, the love that only they shared, made real in a stolen, private moment.
Reading her mind and her wants with precision, Killian pivoted from dancing to sweeping her up into his arms. She laughed aloud at the motion but didn’t pull back far. Instead she clung to him as he strolled through the back way. A few minutes later, when they arrived back at the garden house she was in no way surprised. She hadn’t been out here since his leaving, but it was just as she remembered, and immediately her sense of inner peace solidified. This was everything she’d wanted and more.
The kiss he pressed on her once they were shut away inside was filled with heat and desire, and soon kisses devolved into so much more, a merging of two people who had missed each other fiercely and we were intent on tying themselves together once again. It was perfect, hard-fought reunion, and Emma would cherish the memory always. But perhaps no part was as special as the glow that came between them when she was wrapped up in his arms hours later, safe and happy as the dawn of a new morning began to break. The world was not bright enough to have created such vibrancy, that was all thanks to them and their true love. As a product of two soul mates, Emma had inherited a bit of magic herself, but that magic was always the strongest in the arms of her Killian.
“Gods above, Emma, you are my light, my truth, my home,” he murmured, his words placed between the lightest kisses that sent thrills of pleasure dancing across her skin. “I’ll love you forever, I give you my word.”
“Good,” she replied, silently affirming that she felt the same with a gentle kiss before finally giving in to the tiredness of her body. And luckily for both of them, the sweet dreams that came of their reunion were nothing compared to the joy of their life together. For they had found something better than wishes – a love so real it would live forever, and a bond so sure it would always lead them home.
………………
Where ever I am
Where ever I go
Whatever happens, this year I know
That you'll be with me to the end
When the cold sets in
Like you told me all those years ago
You hold my hand
Where ever I lay
And you guide me through come what may
Bring the silence through the noise
I still hear your voice
I remember what I heard you say
I'll be your lighthouse
Shining bright from dusk till dawn
I'll sing a song aloud
So you'll hear a voice you know
You'll find that somehow
Where ever you are, where ever I am
Is home
Whenever I feel
I'm all by myself
And every word is a cry for help
I just think of you and then
I'm safe again
I feel you close though you're somewhere else
I'll be your lighthouse
Shining bright from dusk till dawn
I'll sing a song aloud
So you'll hear a voice you know
You'll find that somehow
Where ever you are, where ever I am
Is home
Do you remember
What we used to say?
I'll be your lighthouse
Shining bright from dusk till dawn
I'll sing a song aloud
So you'll hear a voice you know
You'll find that somehow
Where ever you are, where ever I am
Is home
I'll be your lighthouse
Shining bright from dusk till dawn
I'll sing a song aloud
So you'll hear a voice you know
You'll find that somehow
Where ever you are, where ever I am
Is home
Where ever you are, where ever I am
Is home
Post-Note: Wow, so first and foremost, if the person who requested this even still reads my fics (because it has literally been something like 4 years since they asked for this), I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I am so sorry for making you wait so long, but I am also so grateful for your lovely prompt. What happiness this fic created for me as I wrote it. I hope you all get to share in that too as you read the story. I’m also shocked at how close I am getting to 200 chapters of the mixtape. I can’t tell if it is something that I should put on hold, or make a volume two perhaps, but in the meantime, thanks so much to all of you for reading, for commenting, and sending me amazing songs to include. It has meant the world to have your support, and I hope you’ll continue to join me on this slow but steady journey in cute CS oneshots!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193
#captain swan#captain swan fic#captain swan ff#captain swan au#cs fic#cs fluff#cs cuteness#cs ff#cs au#cs one shot#lieutenant duckling#sailor killian#princess emma#prompted fic#cs mixtape#captain swan mixtape#Mixtape#lighthouse
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Lowertown Is Growing Up [First Look + Q&A]
Photo: Shamshawan Scott
Olivia Osby and Avsha Weinberg always knew they wanted to make music. The difficult part came when the inevitable questions of how and with who would arise. At least that was the case until a chance encounter in a high school math class in suburban Atlanta, which would eventually serve as the birthplace for Lowertown. Now, a few odd years later Olivia and Avsha find themselves signed to Dirty Hit, home to the likes of The 1975 and beabadoobee, and aiming to make their most ambitious project to date.
“The Gaping Mouth,” a sprawling confessional that blends soft-spoken lyricism bordering on avant-garde poetry and experimental indie rock instrumentation, arrives as the first taste of that ambition. The titular single from their forthcoming EP, set to release September 16, feels like a daring call to arms, a single firework shot in the dark, impossible to ignore and indistinguishable. Most notably of all, it feels like a noted maturation for the duo, a step forward into new, uncharted territory.
On the new single, Osby ponders on the object of her affection, or rather attention, repeatedly uttering the lines “You are the iris in my eye” until they no longer seem to be coming from her, taking on the weight of a mantra spoken outside herself. It’s only one such instance of the duo’s newfound stream-of-conscious lyrical approach, which sees them ruminating on the fallacy of growing up and the associated fantasies that come with it. All of this is complemented by the duo’s fearless instrumentation and production flourishes, which call to mind everything from experimental ‘90s indie rock to the sonic detours that permeated Sufjan Steven’s early works.
We had the chance to speak to Lowertown via e-mail about the difficulties of shifting from “teenagerdom” to adulthood, the advantages of having a french fry fork and their bold new musical direction.
You two originally met in a high school math class. How did the discussion of music first get brought up and how did it lead to forming Lowertown?
Avsha: Olivia was a new student at the school, and I was shy, so we had sat next to each other for some time before we really had any conversation. After some months, I would look at the music Olivia would listen to over her shoulder and make small excited comments or jokes. That’s how our friendship began, through comments about Olivia’s love of emo music or my insufferable judgment on some new music I had heard. It took a year for us to start thinking about doing music together. The eventual forming of Lowertown happened on a beach in Ottawa, where I was again making a judgment on some new song I had found and decided to show Olivia some of my demos. That was where we decided to work together. Those demos and others eventually formed our first record Friends
Were there ever any thoughts about pursuing music before that fateful meeting?
Olivia: I’d always hoped to be able to do music professionally, but it had always seemed like it was so far away from being possible. I always knew that even if my solo music did not work out as a career, I wanted to work in the music field. Whether that was becoming a manager for other musicians or becoming a booking agent, I knew for a long time I wanted to be surrounded by music no matter what I ended up doing.
A: I had spent almost my entire life hoping to be a musician. I started playing classical piano at age four, and up until two years ago, was planning on going to a conservatory and becoming a concert pianist. As my taste expanded, I taught myself guitar, drums, bass, and production, all with the hopes of continuing professionally. Growing up, I was exposed to many different artists and genres, and I always wanted to give people what the music that I grew up with gave to me. The demos that I had recorded in middle school were the ones I showed Olivia and the ones that led to us knowing that we had to start a band.
What was it like signing to Dirty Hit?
A: The process of signing was definitely a difficult one as we had begun talking with the label only a few months before COVID, and as we were narrowing down on the decision to sign, it became incredibly difficult to see a scenario where we would be able to meet anybody on the label. We ended up having many, many FaceTime and Zoom conversations, wherein we were able to talk in-depth with the team and get a good sense of the label. These conversations were really great, and it was a great signifier of the relationship to come as we have had a really great relationship with the label. Although the signing process was tumultuous, we were able to grasp that the relationship between Dirty Hit and their artists was a familial one, and that made us incredibly excited to work together.
If you could have one thing in the world at this very moment, what would it be?
O: A good night’s sleep. I have terrible insomnia and can’t remember the last time I had one.
A: A french fry fork. I’m pretty exhausted with how messy eating french fries is.
Has the past year affected how your approach music at all?
A: In the past, I knew that the more I worked, the better I became, but this year has shown me that the times that you choose to completely leave some things alone are just as important as the times that you focus all your energy on them. I was completely drained of inspiration and motivation until I was able to sit and do absolutely nothing. The lack of music helped me realize that there was a lot about myself that I wasn’t thinking about. I was able to learn more about myself and have new sources of inspiration and thought.
O: For sure. This year has given me an excessive amount of time to get better at playing music in general since I’ve been on my own so much. It has also given me too much time to sit and think by myself, which can be beneficial for music but also pretty detrimental at the same time. I’ve ended up feeling like my old sound and writing process was really stale, since I had been writing songs the same way for years. I’ve ended up experimenting a lot with new sounds and approaches to songwriting, which has been extremely refreshing and I feel like it’s brought out some of my best work. I used to put way less emphasis on instrumentation, but now that I’ve progressed a lot musically, I’ve written a lot of instrumentation that I’m very proud of and that has ended up developing into Lowertown work. I also learned a lot about production over this past year which has been extremely inspiring and helpful for my solo work.
How did you approach the songwriting on “The Gaping Mouth?” The lyricism and experimental instrumentation are honestly breathtaking.
A: When composing the instrumentals, I wanted to write a song that was very expressive and unique but that worked entirely on feeling rather than a traditional verse and chorus song. I wanted to write the piece with points that I knew the guitars would push Olivia’s voice to the forefront and points that raised the energy around Olivia’s words. Olivia’s lyrics are so personal, and she always has so much to say, so I wanted the whole song to ebb and flow together with the identical, and occasionally reciprocal, emotion and intimacy.
O: Avsha sent me this beautiful guitar piece one day and it immediately connected with me, and I stayed up all night working on it. I recorded a demo take of the vocals, just singing/talking over the song where it felt right and natural. That first take I took at home at four in the morning actually ended up being used in the final song because it felt so emotive and raw. The first vocal take had an unmatched authenticity that we couldn’t capture again in the studio no matter how many takes we tried. Our producer Catherine ended up falling in love with it as well and did not want to try to replicate something that was already amazing as it was.
There’s a real sense of maturation present not just in the delivery of the single but in the lyrics, “Being stupid and being 15 / Being older and think I know who I am and what I want… / The way I stay the same and I never change.” Is growing up or rather the idea of growing up a central theme to the music you’re currently working on?
O: I had just graduated high school when we were writing this new project, and I was feeling extremely anxious about the trajectory of my life. I kept thinking about if I was doing all that I should be doing at this age and how much had I really changed since the beginning of high school. I felt like a lot of mannerisms and detrimental ways of thinking that had plagued me when I was 14-15 were still incredibly present in my life, and it felt pathetic to think that I had not made much progress on some of my biggest shortcomings since I had first become a teenager. I feel like at 18/19, you’re not quite an adult, but you’re no longer just a teenager. You begin to shoulder real responsibility and have a lot of agency over your life. It’s quite terrifying being the one who has the power to make important personal decisions. If you screw up, it’s on you and no one else. The transition from high school where you have assignments to turn in every day and tests and a crazy amount of structure (you wake up and go to bed the same time every weekday) to making music and creating with a self-made schedule can be extremely jarring. I’m still grappling with that transition, as my workflow can sometimes trail into six in the morning which sometimes becomes a problem.
“The Gaping Mouth” is the eponymous single from your forthcoming EP. What can people expect from your new EP?
O: It’s gonna be leveled up from anything we’ve dropped before! This is our first project recorded in a studio setting as well as working in-person with a producer. We’ve matured since our last project as musicians and we’ve simply grown more into adults. A lot of this was written when we were 18 and when we’d just turned 19, and a lot of things happened at that point in our lives to write about. Our producer Catherine really helped push me to my full potential while working together. There are some louder songs mixed with some instrumentally dense and beautiful songs. There’s a good amount of experimentation as well in this project that I’m excited for everyone to hear.
A: We’ve focused so much on our songwriting and composition; I think people will be able to hear how we’ve matured. I think this EP reflects our need to always change our sound and grow it. It’s exciting because I think it’s really fresh and still has our musical roots sewn into the core.
And what’s one thing you hope people take away from this next stage of your music?
A: I hope people are able to see the world and the story that we want to create with our music. I hope people can see that our sound will always be maturing and that our music can be surprising and exciting.
O: I feel like our fan base has grown alongside us. Lowertown has been a project since we were 16 and it feels like it has already come so far, which is so amazing and I’m really thankful for everything that’s happened thus far. I hope our music can continue to authentically capture each stage of life Avsha and I live through while making music together. This record was written fresh after graduating high school, so I hope those who are grappling with the jarring transition from teenagerdom to adulthood can find some solace in the feelings expressed in this record.
What is your go-to fast food order?
O: We’re both pescatarian so sometimes finding easy fast food can be annoying. I’m a big burrito person so I’ll always get a bean burrito with a ton of veggies.
A: A universal choice for me in any fast food place would be an extra large order of fries, or however many is the most they offer, and a large Diet Coke. There were points during this year where every day of the week was punctuated with an absurd amount of McDonald’s fries and hot sauce.
Who are your Ones To Watch?
O: Pretty Sick , Horse Jumper of Love, N0v3l
A: Uboa, OOIOO, Donzii
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Magical | Bang Chan
Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader
Genre: Thriller/ Fantasy, Fluff
No. of words: 1.600
Warnings: Sensitive topics, dark themes
A/N: This story is actually written to apply to anyone, so it doesn’t have mentions of age, gender or occupation. Even the reader’s relationship with Bang Chan is left for interpretation.
Let me know if you enjoyed and remember, keep strong stays! <3
They were following me.
I didn't know what it was or who they were; I was too scared to look. Their presence emanated it - a fright the likes of which I've never experienced before. With every inch they managed to gather on me, I could feel their frostbite attacking my lungs and skin. They were talking to me, whispering and yelling at the same time. The voices, a cacophony of sounds, were loud and clear inside of my brain; telling me to come back, to look behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to. The malice was obvious - they wanted me, wanted to eat me whole - take control over my body, soul and mind. I urged my feet to go even faster, but they were already too heavy for me to lift in a full sprint. I barely trudged my weakened body, while slipping in the mud, tumbling on the pebbles and jumping on the arid ground. They would reach me at one point, and I knew that. But I was too stubborn to give up; I wanted to go out exhausted but knowing I have fought my fight.
The forest was opening up, and a few faded rays of light were coming closer to me in my sprint. I headed for that open area and was met with a field full of flowers. In the distance I could see them waiting for me - my friends, my family, my acquaintances. I begged my weary feet to take me towards them with the last bit of strength that I had. However, as I got closer their faces got all the more blurry; I couldn't make up who they were anymore, until they all turned into indistinguishable shapes and shadows that laughed as their cold red eyes bore into my own. They disappeared from in front of me like an illusion, and all the flowers on the field died at once. Shocked and afraid, I couldn't stand around to ponder; I could feel it from the hairs on the nape of my neck standing up, and the goosebumps on my arms that the darkness had almost reached me.
I curved my run to the west, heading towards the high mountains. The previous laughter of the shadows echoed, as if it was bouncing off invisible walls. My breath was becoming more and more unstable, ragged with every forced step I took. My soles hitting the ground hurt all the way to my knees, and I felt dizzy. Something sparkled in my hazy vision, and I instinctively followed the twinkle.
It was a lit fireplace, bright and alive. It's warmth beckoned me, called me over with a siren's song. As if just a puppet, all the pain in me disappeared as I walked towards the fire. In just a few seconds however, I was met with the ground as a powerful gust of wind caught me off guard. I turned to look at the fire, no traces of it ever being lit remaining. I clutched the rocks tight in my fists, banged them on each other desperately. My hands were numb and I couldn't feel them soon enough.
Already defeated, I rose my head to see the thing that had been following me, and my whole body became paralyzed. It was pitch black, a shape with no beginning and no end. It had no eyes yet it was staring at me, no mouth yet it talked to me, relentlessly. It lunged at me at a speed I could not perceive, and pierced through my body. Everything went black and my body grew cold.
---
When I woke up, an intense headache hit my senses. I was just as nauseous as I was when I fell asleep, but somehow the pain grew worse. I looked around me in confusion, shaking away that nonsense of a nightmare I just had, to try to remember what happened before I fell asleep. I was in Chan's house, that was for sure. He was nowhere to be seen, which is peculiar considering he was here before, trying to keep me warm. But now he was gone, and I was cold and alone.
I've been feeling ill ever since this morning, and no matter how much I tried I couldn't bring myself together to function properly. So I ran away from all responsibilities, came here and begged Chan to shelter me from my own powerlessness. I'll probably regret it later, feel embarrassed about it, but it couldn't be helped; I needed some sort of salvation, peace of mind.
I heard Chan's voice not even a minute later, and he sounded like he was saying farewell to someone. He came into the room, holding a blanket in one hand and my phone in the other. Wrapping the blanket around me, Chan looked at me with worry in his eyes. He handed me my phone back and the person in my front camera was pale as a ghost.
"They kept calling you to ask you to come back." He told me, and I clutched the phone a little too tightly.
"I can't go back now..." My voice was hoarse and frail, but I managed to speak a sentence.
"I know, and I've told them just that. Right now, you need to rest." With a tiny smile, Chan scooted closer to me and draped an arm around me, pulling me to his chest. He began searching for a movie on Netflix, but as I nestled into the warmth of his body, I could feel myself slip away again.
---
I woke up in that very cave where I passed out. I was sleeping on hay instead of the cold ground, and I could feel a wet rag on my forehead. Someone must have found me, I thought. I was saved, but for how long; I couldn't help but wonder if it was all worth it anymore.
Slow and limping, I made my way to the entrance of the cave. It was day outside, and it was quiet and peaceful. I could feel the charcoal of the fireplace still radiating warmth. Whoever saved me probably wasn't far.
I wanted to sit down in the camp, but the sun was merciless next to the heated charcoal. I smacked my lips, and realized how dehydrated I was. A well was not far away from here, I remember passing it while I was running away from the darkness. Automated by my thirst, I gathered all my strength to push away the lid off of the well. And that's when the substance that should have given me life seemed to drain me of it.
They were waiting for me.
The shadow sprung to life out of the well and attacked me in full sunlight. The contrast in color was blinding, and I stumbled backwards in fright. I scurried away through the dusty ground and closed my eyes, thinking it would all be over soon. Then, above my head I heard a whistling sound of something flying at high speed. I opened my eyes just in time to see an arrow fly into the boundless shape, not harming it whatsoever, but it seemed confused. From behind me, a hooded figure pulled me up to my feet and stood in front of me. He was holding a bow, and his body was lean and sturdy. His features however, were very blurry to me. I couldn't make up his eyes, but he looked very familiar to me. He had a big nose and curly blonde hair peeking from his hood.
I clung to him in desperation as the shadow growled, its mumbling getting erratic. The archer began reciting some words, in a language that was unknown to me; still, even not being able to understand him, I knew his words meant well. A bright light enveloped us, and suddenly my senses were enveloped in a sweet smell.
---
I didn't know how much time had passed, but I got woken up again by the sound of my ringtone. Still drunk with sleep, I got up from Chan's grip and reached for the phone. Chan was sleeping soundly, his big nose crinkling as he seemed to battle something in his sleep. His blonde curls were covering his eyes, and I reached over to move them away as I answered the call. His sweet perfume lingered in the room, and I tried to focus on it as the person on the other line began yelling to me.
"Where are you? A guy answered your phone not too long ago, was he saying the truth? We really need you right now..." I dismissed their incoherent mumbling and took a deep breath and mustered my courage.
"Yes, he was telling the truth... I am feeling unwell and cannot be there today. Please,... I just want to rest." The person on the line sighed and eventually agreed to let me go. I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes in content. Chan, having woken up by my voice, chuckled lightly.
"Good job." He told me, and smiled sleepily.
"It was time I stood up for myself." I replied softly. He smiled even brighter than before and came closer to hug me.
"I'm proud of you." As he spoke those words, his body warmth enveloped me and healed me down to my soul. I was floating around in that sweet scent, in that homely feeling of security.
And I was once again reminded that Chan's hugs were indeed magical.
#stray kids#stray kids fanfic#stray kids bang chan#stray kids drabble#stray kids imagines#christopher bang#bang chan#fanfiction#thriller#fantasy#fluff#gender neutral#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#skz bang chan#skz scenarios#skz fluff#skz#chan x reader#skz fanfic#skz imagines#chan
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The Dragon Egg (Parts 19-25)
Another set of chapters for @secrettunnelatla’s event.
Chapter 19 Leather For Sequin
She should be eating better, should be better hydrated, should bathe more, should exercise more, should be sleeping better. She finds it harder to do these things at all, much less to an optimal degree. Sleeping is especially hard, having favored doing so on her belly. It helps little that the baby seems to be particularly active when she is trying to sleep with its kicks and squirms. She still can’t get used to it, she doesn’t think she will. It leaves her feel queasier than the morning sickness ever had.
Even if she were as physically comfortable as possible she doesn’t think she’d sleep. Her mind is stuck on Seicho and on all of the articles she has scrolled through during the past few days. Articles that drag her name through the mud and articles that praise Blue Talon for things she should be credited for.
She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, hands clasped over her belly. She finds the baby’s foot--or maybe it is a hand--and rubs over the spot, a fruitless attempt to get her to settle down. All the while her mind runs in circles over the headline, ‘Fire’s Reign’s Fire Lord Ozai Denounces Pregnant Daughter’. She didn’t think that he would so publicly condemn her. She should have; he does, afterall, have an image to protect. As if he hasn’t already tarnished it with his binge drinking.
She imagines that Zuko is probably getting a good kick out of it. She brings her rubbing to a stop and closes her eyes.
She gets little sleep, but enough of it that she has to be woken by Zhao. She doesn’t know why he bothers, it isn’t as though she will make use of the day. But the man is annoyingly persistent, refusing to leave the living room until she declares that she has to get dressed.
She slips into one of Koemi’s dresses. Eventually she is going to have to pester Zhao to help her buy at least one outfit that suits her aesthetic more, his wife’s attire is absolutely gaudy. Today’s disaster is orange with a sunflower print, which might not have been so horrible if the sunflowers weren’t purple and pink in color. She feels more ridiculous than usual when she emerges into the kitchen.
“I have some good news for you.” Zhao smiles.
“You’re going to take me back to that volcano you hated so much and pitch me into it.” She mumbles.
The man looks horror-stricken. If she weren’t so low she certainly would have laughed.
“I managed to get you a record deal under a new label.”
“Please tell me that it isn’t Uncle Iroh’s sketchy basement recording studio.”
“It isn’t. It is another label that I work for.”
“And which one is that?”
“WSLSE.”
Apparently her reaction isn’t satisfactory.
“Wan Shi Tong’s Library Of Sound Entertainment.” He clarifies. “You left a good impression on the man. Raava has also been speaking fondly of you.” He slaps a print out onto the table and pushes it to her. “You have been visiting the wrong websites.”
Her brows crinkle. “You have no right to…”
“Monitor my children’s browsing activity?” He asks. “My children still listen to Happy Hei Bai and my wife doesn’t follow music news. That leaves one person who would search up Blue Talon over and over again.”
She folds her arms. “What of it?”
“You’re making yourself miserable.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “All of this talent is just...confined to a couch.” He pauses. “Which is why I took it upon myself to get you signed to a new label…”
“With what band, Zhao!”
“You’re a soloist now.”
“A soloist?” She sputters.
“You don’t exactly mesh well with people.”
No doubt he had overheard her screeching at Seicho. “And yet, I can’t seem to do without them.”
He chuckles. “That’s where we disagree. You have a divine voice, to have it buried under wailing guitars and pounding drums is a shame. The idea I pitched is to have you go acapella and truly showcase your voice for everything that it is.”
Azula’s face pales. “In other words, there’s no room for error. Mistakes are easily detectable.”
“You aren’t one for mistakes and error.”
She frowns rather deeply and gestures to her bump.
Ever the gentleman Zhao tiptoes his way back a statement or two. “You won’t be alone, you’ll have a team of fantastic producers and a very talented manager.”
Azula inhales through her nose.
“I dropped Blue Talent to focus on this new project…”
“Me.” Somehow she manages to frown more deeply still. “You dropped a band with a perfectly flawless trajectory for me. Since when do you take risks?”
“Since I found someone worth placing a bet on.”
“That’s what I am to you, a bet. A product.”
“A child.” Zhao cuts in. “I’ve known you since you were as young as my own little ones.”
She massages the bridge of her nose. “Zhao, Audio of Agni is a battle of the bands.”
His smile falters. “I am working on that.”
“Spirits, Zhao! What’s the point of putting me back in the studio if--”
“You don’t need Audio of Agni to make it big.” He mutters. “I don’t know what it is with you youths and hinging your entire careers on it. We didn’t have battle of the bands when I got into this industry. The Tui La’s didn’t part-take until the fourth event.”
“Zhao…”
He cuts her off once more, the audacity of the man. “We’re going to make a name for you regardless of Audio of Agni. And we’ll do it on raw talent alone.”
“Acapella artists never do well.”
“Acapella artists seldom do well. Most of them are generic. Their voices don’t stand out without instruments.”
“I’m known for metal music…”
“And you’re capable of ballads and operatics. With this project we’re going to put emphasis on your clean vocals. Once that takes off, we can take more risks--you can try doing acapella with those screaming vocals…”
This time she cuts him off. “What about piercings and tattoos says, ‘acapella and opera artist’?”
“Your vocals don’t have to match your looks. But if you must have it that way, we can swap out some of your piercings for less...bold ones. We can cover the tattoo. Your pregnancy might help with this new image.”
She cringes though she isn’t entirely opposed to a more elegant style of dress; she enjoys the glitz and glimmer every now and again. But, Agni, she can’t pull it off not when she has let herself go like this.
“Your first session will be tomorrow, I’ll send my wife shopping with you, you could use a wardrobe for photoshoots and what not.”
She only agrees so that she won’t have to beg the man to buy her better clothes.
Chapter 20 Dragon Tongue
It is daunting to see one of her monikers in the headlines again. To see it there in a more neutral, speculative light. ‘Blue Talon Vocalist Flies Again as Dragon Tongue’. She wishes that she could feel something other than dread, a growing sense that she is only building up momentum for a mightier, more embarrassing fall than her first one.
The announcement of her new single is daunting. And attempting to record a whole new extended play before Audio of Agni and the birth of her baby is twice that. Hama is adamant that she should be taking it much easier, especially since finding out that her baby might be born with an unusually low weight.
She thinks that she should be taking it slower.
And yet she can’t afford anymore slacking. She has already wasted so much time sulking and moping and making a deeper mess of herself.
And so she is in the recording booth again and with new material. Material and lyrics that are so much rawer. So much more painful to sing through. They are confessions of shame and inadequacy. Laments of betrayal. And ballads of loneliness. And she can’t hide any of the pain behind indistinguishable growls or loud guitar shreds. It is all crisp and vivid. Open. Naked.
She isn’t sure that she wants to do this anymore.
Not when every session brings her closer to tears.
Closer to a total meltdown.
Every session reminds her of what she lost.
Every session reminds her that what she is doing now is nothing compared to what she could have been doing.
Every session reminds her of Mai and TyLee and of Seicho.
And when her mind isn’t ailing, her body is aching. Aching in ways that she hadn’t anticipated. Her feet hurt so bad, they hurt when she is sitting down. Her ankles are swollen--Hama assures her that this is normal. As normal as the persistent ache in her back and the odd nose bleeds and congestion that she gets every now and then. On those congested days, she can’t even work.
On other days she finds herself short of breath. Her growing baby is pushing against her lungs. On those days her voice is so weak and breathy. She records regardless. Perhaps she would have allowed herself a break if Zhao weren’t so adamant that the breathy quality gives her a one of a kind sound. An ethereal sound.
She is inclined to disagree.
She just sounds weak and weird.
She pushes through, she always pushes through.
She promises herself that, whatever she does, she will not read the critiques of her new work. Her self-esteem is already in tatters. They talk more about her pregnancy and what it is doing to her body than they do her work. In that regard she almost hopes that Dragon Tongue is such a flop that it will eclipse that sort of talk.
It is well into the evening. The studio gets so much quieter in the evening. And in the silence her loneliness is emphasized. She remembers late nights of purposely poor vocals and drinking. Of idle chatter between songs. She remembers the crashing of a drumsets when Chan forgets to watch where he steps. She remembers stupid cover songs when they had time to kill. She remembers laughing.
She remembers happiness.
She remembers friendship.
Chapter 21 A Phoenix In The Winter
His world is in a perpetual winter.
A little is no longer enough.
He no longer needs food or love or inspiration. He no longer needs a band. He only needs a white winter and his presents come in pouches and needles.
He is losing his senses; of time, of himself, of everything really. One day is the same as the next and none of them bring him any closer to true stardom. His bursts of artificial energy only result in disjointed lyrics and half-assed ideas.
There is no organization and no real attempt to turn them into full songs. He has missed shows to the point of his tour being cancelled. It is so much money down the drain that even Iroh has turned his head.
And when the word ‘rehab’ falls from his lips, Zuko runs. Perhaps not literally, but he hasn’t spoken to his uncle since, snubbing all attempts at conversation.
He is perpetually twitchy and agitated and Iroh makes a mistake. He enters the room, guns blazing, “Zuko, get in the car.” It is firm but not firm enough for him to put the needle down. The man sighs, “alright, nephew…”
The minute his hands take him by the shoulders, he is on the ground and Zuko is standing over him seething. “Don’t tell me what to do! What are you, anyways!? A fat, lazy, washed up rockstar! I don’t need advice from you!” But he does, he needs it more than ever. He yanks Iroh up and drags him to the door. He knows that uncle is holding back. He would be flat on his own ass if he wasn’t.
“Zuko, don’t do this. Let me help you get off of this path.” He hears as the door slams.
He is already too far down this path. His only option is to keep on walking. Walking down his cracked and lonely, frigid path. It is desolate now that drumsets, guitars, and microphones no longer clutter the street. He doesn’t pass many people. It is just he and the snow and it is falling thicker than ever.
Iroh hasn’t dropped him from the label yet, but he isn’t making anything of it and so it comes as no surprise to him when TyLee informs him that she would like to try her hand at the school’s gymnastics squad.
He lets her go because she can have something. She can make something of herself.
He is less surprised when Mai declares that she is going to write a few poems or, “maybe just focus on school.”
It is fine with him, he doesn’t want to drag them under with him. And so he sits alone in the dark, huddled in a corner rocking back and forth, enveloped in a drug induced anxiety. A state of panic and paranoia that he can’t seem to stave off.
He is deep into it when his phone rings. “We need to talk.” Says the voice on the other end.
“Not right now, Mai. I can’t talk right now, Mai.”
She exhales long and audibly. “Yeah, that’s just it, Zuko. You never want to talk. You never want to do anything…” she backtracks some. “You only want to do one thing. You’re high right now aren’t you?”
“Yes...no?” He doesn’t remember. He isn’t sure if he is coming down or in the middle of a bad trip. “Mai? Mai, are you there.”
“I was there, Zuko. But I’m not now. Not anymore. I can’t be.”
The line goes dead.
Phoenixes aren’t meant for snow. It is no wonder he is dying.
.oOo.
The school has been closed for hours now. The windows are as dark as he feels within. He scales his way up the roof. Up to the place where his hopes were born and discussed. He can practically taste the cigarette smoke, the anticipation, the energy that came with a dream in the making.
In its wake is a stale taste, he will drown it with another. He pops the cap off of his beer and gives it a good chug, music blasts loudly and aggressively through his headphones. He drapes them around his neck so that he may hear the cars below and the wind around him. It rustles his flannel shirt.
It’s a nice night, clear and warm. Spangled by a vast array of stars that he can’t seem to reach no matter how high he climbs, no matter how far he reaches. He lays back, he wishes he could relax but he doesn’t have enough coke in his system for it. He sits up for another good drink and then another until he feels a buzz. He doesn’t have enough bottles to take him any further. He supposes he doesn’t really need the help, he has his own woes and hopelessness to propel him the rest of the way.
He stands up and makes his way to the very edge of the roof. He swings his arms back and forth in preparation. He takes a deep breath, the song drones on.
He takes another breath.
Swings his arms.
He’ll finish the song and that’s it. Then he’ll take flight.
He inhales deeply as the song fades out. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out, inclined to throw it as hard as he can; at this point, Mai can go fuck herself. But it isn’t Mai’s name that decorates the screen. It isn’t TyLee’s. It isn’t even Iroh’s.
He doesn’t know why, but he picks up the phone. For a moment he only hears breathing, breathing and perhaps sniffling. It takes him a moment to realize what he is hearing, but before he can make anything of it, she speaks, “Zuzu?”
He doesn’t reply.
“Zuzu, I really need someone. I need you.”
Chapter 22 The Dragon & The Phoenix
His chest constricts and he grits his teeth. “I need someone too.” He turns off his music and kicks the empty bottles, they shatter upon the pavement below. “Where are you?” The line goes dead and a text comes through.
By all means, he shouldn’t be driving, but he climbs behind the wheel of Iroh’s car. Spirits, he hopes that he doesn't wreck it. Iroh is already furious.
Truth be told he hadn't known what to expect. Throughout the drive images flashed through his mind, each of them involving a drunkenly enraged Ozai and Azula huddled in the corner. When he reaches the studio he does fine her in the corner.
But she is alone.
Alone and very heavily pregnant.
He thinks that he remembers reading about that somewhere but, like many other things, it had slipped his mind. For a moment he thinks that he got the wrong address, he doesn’t recognize her with her belly so big and her expression so tired and defeated.
Even if he did have the wrong address, he wouldn’t have left. He couldn’t have. He can’t remember the last time he had sobered up so abruptly. With fumbling fingers he ties his headphones tightly around her arm just above her wrist.
Her other hand comes to squeeze his own wrist. “You don’t have to, it’s not that deep.” She mumbles softly.
“Not that deep!?”
She doesn’t meet his eyes. “I changed my mind. It’s...it’s really not that deep, I just need a bandage.” She gestures vaguely towards the door. “There’s a first aid kit in the lobby.”
He gets up to leave and hesitates, casting a look back at her.
“Go on, Zuzu. I’m not going to do anything else. I...I don’t want to die.”
He wishes that he could say the same. He comes back with the first aid kit and begins bandaging her wrist only to have her slap his hand away with a curt, “I can do it myself.”
He scoffs, “then what the fuck am I here for?”
She flinches. “Nothing, never mind. You can go.”
He rubs his hands over his face. He hasn’t spoken to her in so long, he’d forgotten how she can be. Even when she’s asking for help she can’t swallow her pride. Even when she’s asking for help she’s intolerable. He almost does leave but he thinks that if he does she might just change her mind a second time. He sighs, “why did you ask me to come here if you don’t want my help?”
She holds her silence until he is on the very edge of frustration. “I want you, Zuzu. I don’t have anyone to talk to.”
“So I’m your last resort?”
She nods. At least he can commend her for her honesty.
“I think that I need to talk to you specifically.”
His brows furrow, “why do you think that?”
“Because you would understand.”
He tilts his head.
“What failure is like.” She elaborates.
He feels as though he has been punched in the gut. “Seriously, you called me here to insult me? I don’t need this shit right now, okay!”
She shakes her head vigorously. “I--no, that’s not what I meant.” She rubs her hands over her face. He cringes at the smear of blood she leaves behind. He doesn’t think that she has noticed. If she has, she doesn’t bother to wipe it away.
“What else can you mean?”
She thinks for a moment, “Empathy. I’m empathizing?”
He has to laugh. He face falls. It is his turn to clarify, “we’re a pathetic duo, aren’t we?”
She nods, “very.” She wipes the remaining tears from her eyes. “I suppose that it’s the rockstar lifestyle. The parts they don’t talk about…”
“Or it’s the father that raised us.” He grumbles. For once she doesn’t protest this. He wonders just what the man did to her. “What happened? You were doing so good.”
“So were you.” And with a shake of her head she adds, “no I wasn’t.”
“Neither was I…” He trails off.
“What happened…” she repeats the question back to him and then she rubs her good hand over her baby bump.
“Right. Yeah. That’ll do it.” He frowns. “Chan’s?”
“How’d you know?”
“He’s a total tool.” Zuko shrugs.
She laughs, a very quiet and sad sort of chuckle but a laugh no less. “What about you, Zuzu. I haven’t heard a thing about From Ashes To Phoenix since…”
“Since I went berserk and got arrested at my own concert? Yeah. Because there hasn’t been a thing to talk about since.”
“Not even one new song?”
“There’s no time for songs when you’re...when you’re…”
“On drugs?” She finishes. “Zuko, what happened to us? How did this happen?”
“It just did, I guess.” He frowns. It is much more complex than that. “Are you still with father, I’m sure that Iroh wouldn’t mind letting you stay with us. He probably needs a break from me.”
“I’m staying with Zhao. He got me a new record deal and…”
And Zuko is once again furious. Even when she’s falling, she’s still on her way up. She still has something going for her. She’s probably still getting good publicity. Hell, even bad publicity can take her far. It’s all about the spotlight and she decided to open her wrists. And with a baby in her belly. Perhaps that is why she changed her mind so quickly. Perhaps it is why she had made her initial decision. The anger passes as quickly as it had come over him. “I’m angry all the time.” He doesn’t mean to cut her off, it just falls from his lips. He hasn’t really gotten a chance to get it out.
“I can tell.” She replies. “It’s in your eyes.” She seems to hum to herself. “But you have Mai,TyLee, and Iroh, right?”
He shakes his head. “They’re all disappointed, mad, both?”
“Everyone, except Zhao--I guess--is angry with me.”
“For being pregnant?”
“For being...unbearable. You don’t even want to be here, Zuzu. I can tell.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere, actually. It has nothing to do with you. Really, it doesn’t.” He pauses. “I was about to jump.”
“Why did you change your mind?”
“I was interrupted.”
She nods and then her eyes widen, only briefly, with understanding. “Why didn’t you call me?”
He almost tells her that it is because she is her. Instead he responds, “I didn’t think about it, I guess. Drugs do that.”
She nods again. And then her eyes light up. “You can record things with me! I won’t be alone anymore and you’ll be able to get back on track!”
“I can’t focus on music right now.”
And her face falls again.
“But you can still talk to me. I can go with you to appointments.” He offers.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Can I come with you to rehab?”
He rubs his hands over his face. “I guess. If Uncle is still willing to take me there.”
“He’s uncle. Of course he’ll still take you.”
Chapter 23 Life In The Embers
She feels both better and worse all at once. In a sense it had been liberating to let her emotions flood over, to get them out, to let herself reach the very bottom. There is a sense of calm that follows in its wake. A sense of calm that has compelled her to call Seicho and ask her if she could meet her in the recording studio. Only after the girl had said that she would think about it did Azula send her, her schedule for that week.
At the very least, she can talk to Zuko now. Even if much of their conversation has been getting him through the first stages of withdrawal.
Truthfully it was nothing like she had expected.There was no shaking, no vomiting nor sweating. If she didn’t know him she would say that he wasn’t going through withdrawals at all. But she does know him well enough to know that he isn’t himself.
It has been six days since he’d found her with her bleeding wrists and five days since she’d accompanied him to his first rehab visit. Five days since Iroh, for the first time, looked at her with care and trust. Five days since she realized that she might not be left on her own with this baby.
Five days and she is due to check in on Zuzu, if only to intimidate him into keeping on track.
She removes her studio headphones, hangs them up on their designated rack, and exits the recording booth.
“Done for the day?” Zhao asks.
Azula nods, “I promised Zuzu that I would meet him at The Serpant’s Pass Cafe. I’m ahead of schedule anyhow.”
“Very ahead. You’re only a song away from a full setlist.” Zhao agrees. “How about you take the day off. If you’re up for it, I can try to get in touch with a director and we can discuss a music video. It doesn’t have to be fancy…”
“I think that simplicity will work well for this new sound.” Azula agrees. “We’ll talk, Zhao.”
For the first time in a while, she leaves the recording studio with a smile. A smile and a sense that things will come together as they used to. She slips her sunglasses over her eyes and makes her way across the street as hastily and discreetly a possible. People are paying her attention again and it comes in the form of photo op and autograph requests and an occasional paparazzi intrusion.
For now she evades their lurking.
She finds Zuko sitting at the corner most table of the cafe’s patio, already well into an appetizer. She slips into her chair only to find that it is not an appetizer at all, but spicy wings. “You started eating without me?”
He shrugs, “want one?”
She shakes her head.
“But you love spicy food.”
“The baby doesn’t.” She frowns.
“Well I already ordered the rest of our food.” He gestures to the waiter heading for their table with a rather absurd amount of platters. Between her pregnancy and his withdrawal cravings, she and him are a horrid duo in this regard. She thinks to question it only until Zuko begins tearing into his meal.
She rolls her eyes, “don’t be sloppy.” At least she can handle her liberal appetite with poise and grace.
“Don’tell me whadda do.” He grumbles through a mouthful.
She cringes. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
He repeats himself. When he finally swallows the rest of his food he asks, “how have you been holding up.”
Azula sighs deeply, “I can’t breathe properly and I’ve had this annoying itch.”
“An itch.”
“On my belly.”
“Is that...normal?”
“Hama, my physician, says that it is. Something about skin expanding and dryness.” Nevermind the technicalities, the results are very mildly agitating. “And you, Zuzu?”
He frowns, “it’s hard Azula. You can’t even imagine.”
“You look better.”
“But I feel...restless and anxious. And depressed--I’m not sure if this is the drugs though.” He pauses. “I’m tired all the time and the nightmares don’t help.”
“What sort of nightmares?”
“They’re intense. Everyone is reminding me that I’m not going to amount to anything. Dad is always there. He...does things to me in these dreams. Worse than the real stuff.”
Azula nods.
“And Mai is there. So is TyLee, but she’s...weird. She contorts in ways that are crazy even for TyLee. I also had a dream that Aang, you remember him, right?”
“The neighbor kid with the big dog who liked to eat glue? I remember him, yeah. Why?”
“In one of my dreams he had these wild powers and there was this comet and Aang had to stop our father from using it to set the whole world on fire.”
Azula blinks, “Zuzu, there are corners of your mind that disturb me.”
He laughs. Admittedly it is nice to hear him laugh and nicer still to know that she has helped him laugh--a far cry from the distress she used to cause him.
“I suppose that I wouldn’t sleep easily either if I was dreaming about the glue kid getting superpowers.”
He laughs again. “Thanks for coming here, Azula. It’s nice to have someone to keep me company while I go through this.”
“Don’t get sappy on me, Zuzu.” She roll her eyes. She knows that if he does and starts hitting the right cords that she’ll probably start weeping, a humiliating mess of chaotic hormones. “I suppose that I share the sentiment.” She taps her fingers nails against the tabletop, they have grown increasingly long as of late. “You should try to get in good graces with Mai and TyLee again.”
“So should you?” He quirks a brow.
“They’re your bandmates and you still have a chance if you get it together. You already have enough material for Audio of Agni, you just need some publicity. Good publicity.” She pauses. “Of course, you’ll need a band first.”
“Azula, I’m still going through withdrawals.”
“All the more reason to do it. You could use a distraction.”
“You’re a distraction.”
“A bigger distraction. I can’t be here all the time, I have doctor appointments and a career to keep on top of. I’ve only just started getting back on front pages…” for good reasons, she nearly adds, “I need to keep my momentum.”
“So you’re choosing your career over me.”
“I’m choosing my well-being, my baby’s well-being. I don’t really have many other options, a successful solo project is my best chance to provide for this baby.”
“Have you considered adoption?”
It comes like a slap to the face, though she doesn’t think that he means it as such. She bites back her initial scathing retort. “I’m not going through all of this discomfort, disowning, and humiliation just to give the baby away. It’s mine. I want her.”
Zuko lifts his hands, “alright, sorry.” He puts them back down. “I was just really hoping that you’d be here more. I know, I’m surprised too; you’re insensitive and kind of the worst.”
“You’re a funny man, Zuko.” She responds dryly. “I’m not going to abandon you, not when you’re this pathetic. I just think that you should have more support than just me.”
“Do you have any other support?”
“Seicho, hopefully.” She pauses and pushes her final plate aside. “I’d also like to speak with Mai and TyLee again.” She stands up and pushes her chair in.
“I’ll try to talk to them.”
“Make sure to mention that you’re in rehab and that you know you’re an asshole. The asshole bit is especially necessary with Mai.”
“I’ll call you and let you know how it goes?”
“It better go well.” She wishes herself the same luck.
.oOo.
Azula looks much better now, happier, healthier, stronger. There is a radiance about her, something subtle but still present. And it is no wonder; she is back in the press again and much of the headlines predict a groundbreaking and unexpected comeback. The boast of a fallen vocalist whose flame is rising again despite it all. Seicho wonders if the girl is even aware.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Seicho, it is nice to see you again.”
Seicho nods. “Sure, Azula.”
Her gait is rather awkward as she walks alongside her. It prompts Seicho to inquire, “are things going well with the baby?”
“Mostly, yes. Hama has a few concerns.”
“You look a lot better.” Seicho remarks.
“Ugg, if only I felt that way.”
It comes to Seicho then, that the girl is breathing quite heavily, “do you need me to slow down.”
Azula nods, “a little bit yes.”
Seicho chuckles and slings her arm over Azula’s shoulders. She wishes that the girl weren’t so endearing, maybe then she could have drawn her resentment out longer. As things are, Azula is quite precious with her semi-clumsy gait and that genteler twinkle in her eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I would like you to consider not being angry with me anymore.”
Seicho bursts out laughing. “Azula, that is the worst peacemaking opener I have ever heard.”
“How am I supposed to do it?”
“‘I’m sorry that I went off on you for no reason’, would be a good way.”
Azula’s cheeks flush. Seicho thinks that hers might be growing pink as well. She’s adorable, unquestionably so. “I...don’t usually...apologize to people.”
“I can tell.”
Her entire face is red now.
“You’re doing pretty alright.
“Does that mean you are considering my proposal? To not be mad at me?”
Seicho rolls her eyes. “Yes, that’s what it means.” That hopeful little smile seals the deal. “You wanna tell me about your new song ideas? This new concept is...different.”
“Do you like it?”
“I think that it suits you well.” Seicho replies. “You have a pretty voice. I didn’t realize that you had that kind of range. The breathing techniques are really bizarre but they sound neat.”
“Oh, those aren’t techniques. That is me suffering while I try to sing with this baby crushing my lungs.” Her eyes go wide for a flicker. “You’ve been listening to my new music?”
“N-no, well, it’s been on the radio so I couldn’t avoid it!”
She shakes her head, “you listened enough to be able to give me a review.”
“Fine, I’ve been listening to your new material. But I was still mad the whole time, okay? I was listening with resentment.”
Chapter 24
With a new digital album release and a highly anticipated music video in the works, Azula is growing confident again though Audio Of Agni still seems to be far out of her reach. If she makes the right moves and if her pregnancy doesn’t spring up any surprises, she might just be able to make it without the competition. It isn’t ideal and it is terribly frustrating, but at least she doesn’t feel so helpless anymore.
Mostly she feels drained and achy. Her sides stitch from time to time and her entire lower body is growing sore from carrying so much extra weight around. She exhales, she isn’t sure how much more of this she can take. Hama had warned her about the small contractions but they still take her by surprise every time.
They happen now, and when she could really use a break from them. She is just thankful that she is through with recording. From the looks of it, she will have to find a way to shoot the music video mostly sitting or laying. She has passed several ideas onto Zhao, her favorite being a trip to the local theater where she can perch herself on a stool and sing to an empty venue. They can make use of dramatic lighting and add glitter or glow effects electronically. It is simple and will rely on old time Noh theater aesthetics and a stunning costume. She anticipates that the mask will be the most expensive piece. The simpler, one location video will leave plenty of room in the budget for that.
She casts a look at the door. “They’ll be here soon.” Seicho assures her.
“But what if they decide not to come? Mai, TyLee, and I haven’t parted on good terms.” She rubs her hand over her belly.
“You’ve been helping Zuko out so much, you practically saved their band, how mad can they be?”
She isn’t sure that she wants to find out. Not that she has the chance to retract her invitation she hears a knock and climbs to her feet. Her bump lightly knocks against the table as she does so and she curses to herself. “I can get it, you know?”
Azula waves her hand dismissively. “I’m pregnant, not useless.”
.oOo.
Zuko hadn’t realized just how much a few weeks could change a person. Her cheeks are rosier and the bump is bigger still. In spite of it all, her look of prowess and determination has returned. She wears her pride as though it had never slipped from her grasp at all. Frankly, he hadn’t realized that it was truly missing until having seen it returned.
“Oh wow, you’re so big!” TyLee comments,clasps her hands, and holds them to her lips.
Azula’s face, already flushed lightly, grows redder still.
“How far along are you?” TyLee asks.
“Month six.” Azula huffs as she gestures them inside.
“Congratulations?” Mai quirks a brow.
She clears her throat, “thank you.”
He watches her make her way to her seat. She backtracks to fetch her water bottle and semi-clumsily saunters her way back to her seat.
“Still adjusting?” Mai asks.
“Constantly adjusting.” Azula grumbles before taking a drink. She rests her free hand on the bump. “You’re mostly done going through withdrawals, yes, Zuzu?”
He nods. “Sometimes I still really want to use again. Badly. It’s unbearable...it would be if I didn’t…”
“Take my advise and get back into the music industry? Yes, I am aware. You are welcome.” He has to laugh at her audacity, at least these days it is somewhat endearing. “You look a lot better Zuzu. Your eyes don’t have bags that reach to the floor anymore.”
“I don’t know if you’re trying to compliment me or insult me.”
“It’s a compliment, I’m saying that you don’t look like a walking corpse anymore.”
Somehow, he does feel a sense of pride in that. It is progress. Progress that he has made. Progress that he is still making. And she isn’t the only one who has noted these changes. Azula has certainly changed radically in the past few weeks, but he can’t deny that the changes in him have been just as dramatic even if they are less outwardly perceived. He does feel better about himself; he feels more inspired than ever, more creative and, for a change, it isn’t synthetic. It is all him, his mind, his...brilliance. He thinks that he can consider himself smart, at the very least he can consider himself not dumb.
She pulls out a pen and a sheet of paper. “So let’s start talking about music. I read over some of your new lyrics, they are rather solid they can just use some fine tuning and better penmanship, I don’t know what this is supposed to say.” She gestures to the worst of his chicken scratch.
He finds himself beaming regardless. She had given him a real compliment. He has written something worth singing. He could cry...
“Azula, can we just...be friends again first?” TyLee asks.
Her brows furrow, “you want to be friends again.”
TyLee smiles and nods. “To be honest, I don’t really even remember why we were fighting.”
“Because she kept picking on my boyfriend and working us to exhaustion.” Mai shrugs.
Azula’s expression darkens again.
“To be fair, she’s been working herself to exhaustion.” Zuko steps in.
She shrugs again, “I suppose that I don’t know many other people who work this hard six months in.”
“I have a lot that needs to be accomplished.”
“And you only have until battle of the bands to do it?”
“Solo artists can’t join.” She frowns, only to perk up again when adding, “but I’ve already written a setlist and a few ideas just in case.”
Zuko laughs, “of course you did.”
“Who is this?” TyLee points to Seicho.
She looks up from her phone, “I’m Azula’s girlfriend.”
“You are?” TyLee and Azula ask at once.
Seicho looks at Azula, “I thought that you knew that.”
“Azula is clueless.” Mai rolls her eyes. “You can take her on as many dates as you’d like, you can kiss her several times--”
“I have! Mostly in the recording booth between songs.” She declares.
“--And she still won’t put two and two together until you tell her that you’re dating.”
Seicho drapes her arm over Azula’s shoulder and pulls her closer. Her other hand reaches for Azula’s. “I go with her to her appointments too. I figured that she can pretend like I’m the baby’s father since Chan is an ass.”
“It’s Chan’s?” TyLee gasps. “He said that--”
“He lied. It is easier to make me out to be...dangerously promiscuous.”
“Oh Azula, I’m sorry.”
Azula offers only a dismissive wave. “Enough baby and drama talk. We need to start discussing music before the studio closes for the night. They lock up on Mondays for cleaning.”
.oOo.
All in all the night has been a success on a musical level and on a social level. The departure of Mai and TyLee is such a stark contrast to their last one. They part with an offer to team up with and do vocals for From Ashes To Phoenix should they make it to Audio Of Agni as well as an offer to invite her to game night at Iroh’s.
“I don’t know, card games, potato chips, and a super campy horror movie sound great!” Seicho declares. “Do you think that they’ll be down for basement tattoos?”
“Probably.” Azula answers nonchalantly. “Exactly how do you plan to get this past your parents? The last time I checked, they said that they didn’t want you hanging around some tramp.”
“They’re never home.” She shrugs. “And when they are, they don’t really pay much attention to me. They didn’t even know that I was a tattoo artist until I came home with a sleeve.”
“I see.” She replies. “Am I dropping you off at home or are you coming with me to Zhao’s place?”
“Zhao’s place! He makes a bitchin’ yakitori!”
Chapter 25 A Phone Call
If Iroh has an issue with the blearing music, he keeps it to himself. Azula reaches for another chip. “Hmmm...truth or dare, Azula?” She puts down the chip.
“Dare.”
“You’ve been picking dare all night!” She frowns, putting her hands on her hips.
“What can I say, I’m a daring person.”
“You just don’t want to tell the truth.” Seicho nudges her.
“I dare you to pick truth next time someone asks you to.”
“That’s cheating.”
“Mm mm, it’s not.” TyLee shakes her head, “we didn’t establish that rule when we were establishing the other rules.
“Truth or dare, Mai?”
“Dare.”
TyLee puffs out her cheeks. “You guys never pick truth!”
“I dare you to be the first one to get a tattoo tonight.”
“I’ll get one right now.” Mai shrugs. “I’ve had one on my mind for a while now.”
“Kickass! What can I get for you?” Seicho asks. “You can sketch it out while I get set up.” She leans in to kiss Azula on the forehead before getting up.
“Truth or dare, Zuko?”
He glances at TyLee before choosing dare.
“I dare you to…”
Azula leans over and whispers in her ear.
“I dare you to prank call Zhao.”
He punches Zhao’s number into the landline pinpad. “Hello, is this Zhao?”
Azula, Mai, and TyLee lean over his shoulder.
“Yes, this is Sokka. I am interested in getting a record deal.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m nervous, I’ve never asked for a record deal before. But I have this great concept its...uh…” He looks at Azula. “It’s uh...okay, picture this, seven minutes of dog barks with occasional bursts of that noise you hear when you’ve lost TV signal.” He listens. “No, no! This is a totally serious pitch! I’ve even named the track it’s called, ‘Bark At The Static’ and I think that I’d be great touring with that guy who dresses up as a cabbage and Yodels.”
TyLee snickers.
The line goes dead and Azula sits down to finally have her chip. She dips it into the salsa.
“Okay, truth or truth, Azula?”
She rolls her eyes. “Truth number two.”
“Hmmm, do you miss being in Blue Talon.”
“A little, I suppose. I don’t think that I’d like to go back to them though. They lack integrity.” She scoffs. “They’re using my story to sell the band.”
“Your story?” Mai asks.
“I wrote about father before I was kicked out of the band.”
“I write about him too.”
“Yes, Zuzu, I’ve been helping you write those songs.”
“Right.”
“Everything’s all set up. You didn’t sketch, did you?”
Mai fishes through her bag, “I did a while ago.”
Azula looks it over. It’s a darkly alluring sketch of a hand holding a punctured heart, weeping roses and thorns. “I want it on my left shoulder blade and a simple throwing star on the right one.”
While Mai gets herself comfortable in Seicho’s makeshift chair, Azula reclains and reads through the newsfeed. Blue Talon is still soaring high as ever, but From Ashes To Phoenix is already garnering heavy attention with their new single announcement. The whole thing was rather sappy story about Zuko’s recent rehab struggles and an apology for acting out on stage. And for herself, Dragon Tongue is finally being praised for her stunning vocals and her soft, divine sound.
Azula is still rather conflicted about how quickly they were to turn from accusing her of pregnancy being obscene and raunchy to them gushing about how a baby on the way is the finishing touch on her new, soothing sound. She supposes that she should be thankful that they are speaking well of her again, regardless of hypocrisy.
She wonders if her father is reading these headlines; wonders if her is proud or if he is seething--fuming because she is still rising despite his efforts to snuff her flame.
“What sort of tattoos were the rest of you thinking of getting?”
“I just want a cute little cherry blossom on my pinky!” TyLee answers.
“A broken chain.” Zuko replies. “On my bicep.”
Azula thinks for a moment. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out. I have to wait until after the baby is born.”
“Oh, right!” Seicho replies. “Maybe I can help you design one.”
Her phone vibrates in her hand, the number on the screen is unfamiliar. “Hello?”
“Azula?”
“Yes.”
“This is Raava.”
“Raava!?”
She hears the tattoo gun flick off and four heads turn in her direction.
“You have a gift and it will be heard at Audio Of Agni. I’d like to talk with you about a loophole that I found.”
“What sort of loophole?”
“You have done work with From Ashes To Phoenix, yes?”
“I will be recording with them soon.”
“I am going to extend a formal invitation to From Ashes To Phoenix. Given their cooperation, you will perform two of three songs with them and one solo.”
She hadn’t expected to cry that night, but she does. She feels like a fool crying in front of all of them, but she is so relieved. Relieved and hopeful.
She hasn’t lost her dream.
It will be an absolute treat to see the shock and horror radiate off of Blue Talon when she makes her appearance. And a larger treat to show her father that her worth is beyond what he can give her.
#Avatar The Last Airbender#Azula#Azula/Cupholder girl#Zuko#Mai#Maiko#TyLee#Fanfiction#Very Long Text
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