#≡;- LET'S CHANGE THE LYRICS | AU : Deception.

[13urningstars]

🎀 RIBBON

𝐎𝐂 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒!

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into worlds / au's? what au's would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

MAN YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW EXCITED I WAS TO ANSWER THIS. I've been enabled. I LOVE au's so much you don't understand it. So i have many au's/variants for cherr, both with canon stuff (show variants including TFP, TFA, Shattered glass, ect) and just basic au's (fantasy, mermaid, ect) so this will be a VERY long post hehhehehe This list doesn't include Cherr's main verse (IDW post war) or her live action verse since i don't know where I'm going with that yet, as well as show variants that i have finished watching but may be added later (including : G1, The unicron trilogy and the prime wars trilogy). I included Beast wars purely because while i might not have finished the series, i already have a pretty solid idea for this variant.

Put under a read more because this is a LONG post

CANON VERSES

ALIGNED

TFP : Same backstory as her main verse. Went on a personal mission to find Optimus prime and his team, eventually finding them after crash landing on earth after her ship got caught and damaged in an asteroid storm. Crash landed in France, and had time to fix up the majority of her ship before ruining into the team while they were on a mission. The teams permanent demolitions expert since wheeljack isn't the kind to stay. The guardian to two human children, Jennie and her babysitter Vera

Rescue bots academy : Would be included as a guest teacher occasionally. She drop's in to bother Joyride (My rescue bot oc), and to give lessons on general safety business (due to her.. experience with explosives), but most of the time she just likes visiting the kids, and teaching them about niche earth things.

Robots in disguise 2015 : Travel's between earth and cybertron, spending most of her time on earth despite the opportunity to go back "home". She travel's around, and ends up coming around to occasionally bother bee and his team once she got word that he was back on the planet. Jennie is 12 and vera is 20 and in college.

CYBERVERSE

While pretty similar to her other verses, cyberverse cherry holds on a bit more to what she was like before the war. A bit more cheeky and mischievous, and just slightly more bitchy and bright. She's as can be and still holds all her normal traits, but she's also just also slightly more willing to dance the line of danger.

WAR FOR CYBERTRON

Pretty similar in terms of everything compared to her main verse. Lore accurate storewide, Cherr stays behind with elita and her team to defend cybertron and dies during the process, but her Beast wars variant would be in this verse as well.

BEAST WARS

One of the pods that fell from the maximal ship, cherr ends up adopting the form of a Galah (pink and grey cockatoo) as her alt mode. She has no original name in this verse, or if she does, no one knows what it is, instead calling her "cherry". Quick and light on her feet, she the maximals eye i the sky along with airazor, and just a BIT of a pyromaniac. [This one's iffy, since i haven't actually finished the series. Im just really attached to bird cherry]

EARTHSPARK

Fun fact! Earthspark was originally her main verse before i switched it to tfp (and then switched that to her post war IDW verse). While the same as most of her other verses in term of personality, Cherr's role is what changes the most in this one. SURE, she's still a demolitions expert, but after having given a proper chance to explore earth after the war, Cherr took it. She travels around the world as basically a tourist, keeping an eye out for any bots making trouble. She knows something's up with G.H.O.S.T, and makes an effort the make things better for the trapped cons whenever she visits any of the detention centers, even if she's breaking the rules to do it. Extra rations, gossip, general company. At one point she got roped into one of the fighting rings in France and became its champion for a year or two before busting out. She's on a personally fueled vendetta to find and shut down any ring she can.

TFA

A singer high on the charts who's mysteriously gone missing. Early on in her life, cherry took rossana under her wing, and taught her everything she knew. She holds no preference for sides, a true neutral in this verse. However, something happed, and she fled the planet. She lives in hiding on earth, having stolen some tech and making herself a holoform projector, continuing her music career there. Constantly mistaken for an Autobot.

LOST LIGHT

Instead of staying on cybertron and finding work in the body guarding business, the moment rodimus sent out the invite to join the crew, cherr jumped at the chance. In this verse, she's practically the same as her main, since this is a bit of an "alternate timeline" thing, but she does have more chances to find cool spots to herself. She wander's around a lot, unless she's at swerve's or mirage's. [Haven't actually finished the MTMTE/LL comics, so things may change later on who knows]

SHATTERED GLASS

This is the verse where she's the most different in every sense. She starts out the same of course, minus her paintjob, which instead of pink white and blue, is dark grey purple and red. But over the years, especially during her music career, she gets twisted. A Yearning to be known, to be loved, adored. In this verse, many of the rumors about her in her normal verse ARE true. Yes, she purposefully killed her producer, and yes, her vocal mod is illegal. In this verse, instead of merely projecting her voice, her voice is able to lure in most bots that hear it like a siren, cue the alias (although, whether or not it'll affect a bot, changes on their amount of will, as well as a few other factors). She never left Cybertron in this verse, and thus has a modified version of her design during the contract. Siren in confident and a flirt and just a bit of a pyromaniac, but also cruel to those who earn her displeasure. Her collections are a bit more... morbid here. Your safe really, as long as she likes you enough

AU'S

DECEPTICON

Au where Cherr never got into the music industry, and thus, learning about the war earlier in this verse, joined the side of the cons. She's an under cover spy within the autobot ranks, due to her deceivingly sweet nature. An amazing liar, with many skill's acquired from the streets and unlost during her (non-existent) career, the femme is not one to be underestimated. Due to not having entered the contract, All of her mods are illegally acquired, and her name changed. Here she isnt cherrybomb, no. Here she's known as siren.

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 002 ] the pinkette.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au.

chapter warnings. innuendos if you squint, wooyoung is still a bit annoying but it's ok because it's wooyoung. word count. 1.9k

　　　　　　　　chapter i // chapter ii // chapter iii

The car ride to wherever Wooyoung and his seven friends lived felt a lot longer than it actually was. He talked the entire way there and if you weren't so polite—ignoring the fact you cursed him out multiple times already—you would have put on you headphones to drown him out.

Most of what he said was not worth replying to, but sometimes you caught yourself having actual conversations with him. The way he could talk to anyone without previously interacting with them surprised you a bit. And if you weren't so stubborn, you would have admitted it was a bit admirable, a skill you never really mastered.

On the bright side, you think, at least he let you take care of the music. He hadn't heard more than half the songs on your playlist and you felt it was your duty to introduce him to the most life-changing songs you've ever listened to. Sometimes he'd ask you something about a song, and you'd accidentally ramble on and on about anything related to it; the composition, the lyricism, the artist.

When you did that, he'd stare at you for however long he could any chance he got. He enjoyed listening to you talk, your voice soothing and free of any innuendos he'd normally receive when talking to anyone from campus. Your eyes practically glistened when he asked about a particular song that played (one titled "Reflections" if he remembered correctly) before you went off on another tangent about how the song makes you feel, arms and hands flailing around to emphasise your points.

At that point, he promised himself he would not get you to talk about music around Hongjoong, in fear that he'd never see you again. The musical composition major would probably propose to you on the spot.

"Oh! And also, the way they used–" You abruptly cut yourself off, looking down to pick at the cuticle of your thumb, confidence gone in the blink of an eye. "I– uh– Sorry. I'm rambling again."

Wooyoung slowed down before completely stopping at a red light. As soon as those words left your mouth, he shook his head in objection. "Don't be sorry. I like listening to you."

You looked up at him and upon finding no trace of deception or false reassurance on his stunning face, you nodded, dropping your hands in your lap. The man next to you felt an urge to grab ahold of one of them, but he knew you'd throw him out of his own car.

The tenseness in the air didn't last much longer as you noticed Wooyoung pull into a driveway leading up to the grandest mansion you'd ever seen. There seemed to be two floors, probably a third in the basement, and the walls were painted a clean white. The design of the house was quite modern, utilising geometric shapes and large, clear windows.

The lawn was neatly trimmed and the grass healthy. There wasn't much to see out front, but you assumed they'd prefer to use the privacy of a garden in the back.

At the sight of the residence, your jaw just about dropped and you whipped your head to the left, staring at the brown-eyed boy.

"This is where you live?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, but the smug smile stretched across his face told you everything you needed to know.

"Are you guys part of the mafia or something?"

He choked at that question, quickly denying it, but you only sighed in disappointment.

"That's too bad, maybe I'd have found you a bit cooler."

"Hey!" He pouted. "I'm very cool."

You tilted your head, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting ready to leave the car. "Hmm... I don't really think so..."

"Plenty of other people do." Wooyung got out of the car with you, still pouting at you over the roof of the vehicle as he moved to the trunk to pull out your bag. "You ought to as well."

"I don't know, Woo. I'm not really one to care what others think." You pouted back at him mockingly before your expression became confused. Upon your words, his pout turned into another mischievous grin. "What?"

"You just called me Woo," he sang playfully as he led you to the entrance. "Are we on nickname basis now?"

"What are you talking about? I clearly said Wooyoung."

He narrowed his eyes at you, shrugged, and then turned away from you to unlock the front door. "Either way, I like it when pretty girls say my name." And with that he entered the house and left you standing there, staring with wide eyes and blushing cheeks.

After you finally pulled yourself together and reminded yourself you didn't like him at all, you stepped inside. As you kicked off your shoes, your project partner instructed you to wait for a second while he informed whoever was home that they had company. You obliged, not wanting to see anything that would haunt you. What would that be? You didn't have an answer for yourself, but you'd rather not find yourself walking into the living room and seeing a half naked man.

As Wooyoung rounded the corner again, you had gotten up from where he put your bag, getting ready to follow him wherever he wanted to work with your sketchbook in hand.

"You're in luck, most of them are out and Seonghwa-hyung is almost done cooking." He led you to what you assumed must be the kitchen. "We can eat first and then start working."

You held back a gasp, but couldn't stop the amazed look on your face as you took in your surroundings. You shouldn't have been so surprised considering the fucking hallway was pretty, but the kitchen was absolutely divine.

It also took on a modern style, sleek white cabinets and counters surrounding the space. In the middle of the room was a kitchen island with a matching white marble surface, one side occupied by a large sink and the other with five barstools. But, most of all, it was so clean.

Not that you expected a house where eight men live together to be dirty and a mess, but you also kind of did. Yes, you were aware that they were all rich and could probably afford you and your entire bloodline, including a cleaner, but that thought never really crossed your mind.

As you continued observing the kitchen, your eyes landed on a man on the other side of the island, leaning against a counter with his arms crossed, watching you. His eyes scanned your body, assessing you before he lifted a hand and ran it through his pastel pink hair. Seemingly satisfied—though you're not sure of what—he nodded and smiled at you.

Wooyoung briefly introduced you to each other, though you already knew perfectly well who this was, and you weren't exactly happy to be in the same room as him. But, for obvious reasons, being rude to your project partner's best friend was not a very good first impression. And as much as you didn't really care about first impressions, you knew—and dreaded—that you'd had to come over quite often for this project.

A look of realisation crossed Seonghwa's features, his round eyes lighting up. "Ah, I know where I've seen you. You also take linguistics, right?"

You nodded to confirm that. He usually sat all the way in the back, though your professor encouraged him to move up front since he was such a good student. He always kind of intimidated you, but seeing him now, in sweatpants and a large sweater, hair blow-dried and fluffy; you wonder why you would ever think he's scary. Nevertheless, he's just like the others.

Wooyoung tilted his head in confusion and turned from where he sat at the counter to look at you. "I thought you're an art major?"

"I am," you took a seat next to him, leaving one barstool of space between you. "I'm double majoring in art and linguistics."

The man you answered hummed and turned to his older friend. "What are you making?"

"I didn't know we'd have a guest, so it's just bulgogi with rice noodles." He turned to address you, "Hope you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all! I could eat anything right now." Neither of the boys missed the way your eyes lit up at the mention of food.

The three of you continued to converse as Seonghwa prepared three plates for you to eat. He fished out some utensils from a drawer and set them in front of you, then him and Wooyoung.

"Oh, YN," Wooyoung said, sounding as if he suddenly remembered something, getting up and grabbing some cups from a cupboard. "Grab some drinks from the fridge, there should be plenty of options so choose whatever you want."

But as you moved to the fridge, Seonghwa quickly blocked your path with a slightly nervous sounding laugh. "No, that won't be needed!"

You tilted your head and blinked at him and Wooyoung could hear the way the elder's heart skipped a beat. Another nervous chuckle escaped his mouth before he explained, "We ran out of drinks yesterday, follow me to the pantry and I'll show you what options we do have."

"Uhhhh... okay...?" Though still confused and slightly suspicious of the way he was acting, you followed him to the other side of the kitchen. You thanked him as he held the door to the pantry open to you, but completely missed the chilling glare he sent Wooyoung.

Fourty-five minutes later, the three of you had finished eating. You offered to help wash the dishes, but the pinkette immediately shut you down and sent you and Wooyoung to work in the living room.

"Thank you for the food, it was really delicious. If I could cook, I'd ask you for the recipe." You smiled at him, placing yours and Wooyoung's plates next to the sink.

"Well," he started, bracing one hand on the cupboard next to you and leaning in slightly. "I could always teach you, if you'd like." His eyes briefly moved from yours to the area slightly below before he resumed eye contact.

And there it is. That's a shame. You thought you had misjudged him, but you supposed you were wrong.

At your expression, he burst out laughing (it was a very pretty, melodic laugh), standing up straight again and putting some distance between the two of you.

Maybe you weren't wrong...? At this point, you didn't know what to think of the man in front of you.

"I'm just kidding, Wooyoung already told me about your... feelings towards us. I just felt like messing with you a bit" He trailed off, smile stretching a bit further to reveal his perfect white teeth. "You're kind of cute when you're flustered, though."

Now that he mentioned it, you could feel the warmth on your face. As the realisation showed itself on your face, he laughed once more and rested his hand on your shoulder. He turned you and led you towards the living area, where you could already see Wooyoung making himself comfortable on the couch.

"I'll leave you guys to do your work now. I might join you once I finished cleaning, but I have a paper due tomorrow morning so don't wait for me."

"Hyung, you're not part of our project, why would we wait for you?" Wooyoung raised one of his disgustingly symmetrical brows.

With a shrug, he answered, "To balance out your annoyingness."

He didn't stick around to hear Wooyoung's whiny complaints, instead turning back to the kitchen with a loud laugh. The brunette rolled his eyes and patted the spot on the couch next to him.

"Now," he said once you sat, albeit with so much space between you three people could fit comfortably, "Where do we start?"

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] woohoo the next chapter!! i think i'll make the upload schedule fridays, so expect new chapters then. what do we think of the story so far? i'm so happy about all the positive comments i've been getting, thank you guys so much. whoever though seonghwa would be the one she'd like, is wrong... so any other guesses? i have a few ideas on what to do for that project, and i think it'll actually be quite cool. so please look forward to that ^^

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @r1kitti @sarahleighflora @kyukyustar @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @kitty4hwa @hyukssunflower @aestheticsluut @neohyxn @mrowwww @darkdayelixer @itsokaytobedumb00 @hwa-sans @purplelady85 @meginthebuilding27 @stopeatread @mothworked @foliea @euphoric-emily16 @teezers99 @mulletjoonsupremacy @imalildelulu @sunukissed @blehhhidk @ad0rechuu @seongfury

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[scrivenger-grimgar]

Reminder to EVERYONE that this is my space to be cringe and free! Now, on to the cringe!!

Hades/Harry Potter/Percy Jackson au

In 1980, Lily prays to the Gods and while they do not answer, the Primordial Chaos does. She makes a bargain with Chaos that if she or James dies, their souls are destroyed and Harry is gifted a Boon from them.

When Lily and James both die the Boon from Chaos is much more powerful than either of one of the mortals could expect, essentially making Harry the demigod child of Chaos.

Chaos is not bound by the same laws that the Olympian’s are, but is technically unable to leave their home realm. The only time the two can meet is when Harry is in a deep meditative state, so Harry thinks he’s either dreaming of or hallucinating a third parent of indeterminate gender, but their advice is good if rather cryptic so that’s chill.

The Dursley’s have a habit of putting him outside when he does something freakish, and he just wanders for a few weeks before he’s suddenly back at the house for seemingly no reason. It’s because of thirst that he gets to meet and befriend other demigod children!

Oz, child of Hodr, the Norse god of darkness, winter, cold, and ice. A fair skinned kid with long silver hair and unnatural gold-yellow eyes, they seem to be homeless and are extremely good at hiding and escaping. They are very independent, though mild mannered and deceptively tranquil, their gaze is positively intense. Despite their general paleness they can disappear into the shadows at will and even transform them into a liquid substance for them to control and use like extra limbs. Their body temperature is lower than average but they prefer and are unbothered by the cold.

Blaise, son of Bragi, Norse god of music, poetry, and the harp. A black Italian boy with long box-braided brown hair and (supernatural) dark blue eyes. He is witty and sarcastic, but his way of speaking is lyrical and poetic, he loves playing stringed instruments and is seemingly able to imbue listeners with the emotions of the songs he plays, and his insults deal actual physical damage. His mother gave him a poisoned dagger ‘just in case’ and he thinks that this is completely normal in all familial relationships.

Luna, daughter of Heimdall, Norse god of foresight, knowledge, and brightness. She is pale skinned, has long white-blonde hair and pale blue-silver eyes. She is whimsical and light-hearted, always knows more than she lets on, knows the stars and their constellations by almost every name they have been given, and collects trinkets to turn into jewelry in her spare time. Her eyesight is supernatural and she can see no matter the light level. She can even see entities that only exist on the metaphysical planes.

Chaos encourages their son to make blood bonds with his friends because their friend Zagreus had always said that ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the waters of the womb’ and Harry takes this very seriously and creates a literal blood bound covenant with his friends because ‘my third parent the Primordial Chaos told me it was a good idea’ and none of them think that this is in any way weird and that all friends do this.

Now the whole Hogwarts thing goes pretty much as canon except for Ron, Hermione and Neville being sworn in to the blood covenant at the end of first year. Things change at the end of second year though due to the basilisk venom and Phoenix tears mixing with Harry’s primordial demigod blood, as both monsters/beings are technically immortals, this kickstarts the process of apotheosis for not just Harry but for the entire blood covenant because they all share Harry’s blood.

In the middle of third year the covenant discovers they can turn into dragon-bird creatures during a discussion about becoming animagi, and they come to the conclusion that this is a weird reaction to the basilisk-Phoenix situation, and they’re not wrong.

(Dragon-bird form, otherwise known as Striga [singular] or Strigoi [plural])

Then at the end of third year when Dumbledore tells Harry and Hermione to use the time tuner to rescue Sirius, the apotheosis and the blood covenant are both affected and they end up in Chaos’s realm. Chaos is delighted by this because it’s so unexpected, they did not expect to have more children after so long, and decide that they simply must name these children as ‘all parents of the current day name their children do they not? The Child of Hades told me it was so, that his mother chose his name, and as such his father kept it.’

Neferos for Neville, Haris for Harry, Vlassis for Blaise, Vronia for Ron, Osial for Oz, and Lena for Luna. Chaos somehow picks Hermione for Hermione.

The seven of them can’t exactly stay there though because they aren’t gods yet, and they still have mortal needs, so Chaos sends them through a chaos gate and lands them somewhere in Asphodel, where they almost die, but are eventually found by Zagreus on one of his runs.

Zagreus just goes, ‘huh, what the fuck. These aren’t shades.’ and brings them back to the house. Hypnos is stumped because these guys aren’t dead, Nyx is a little confused over having a half-sibling(s?) but she’s got the spirit, and Hades is infuriated that they managed to get into the underworld and refuses to let them leave even though they did not mean to go there and want to leave.

So Zagreus has to break them out, which is very difficult because they absolutely cannot die. So they have to be very careful. Luckily they can turn into dragon-birds, so it is possible.

Once they reach the surface, Luna takes one good look at the stars and goes ‘oh. oh no. this is the industrial revolution.’

They have a collective panic attack while Zagreus dies, and Thanatos arrives confused to a group of strange death-like godlings. Their apotheosis was completed while they were in Styx, so they became a group of chthonic Greek gods completely on accident, and are technically no longer alive nor dead.

Hades does grudgingly hire them after the industrial revolution because there’s just so many more dead people all of a sudden, and they just help wherever they’re needed. They concluded that trying to go back to their own time is very much not a god idea considering that they’ll technically only age if they want to and that interfering with the timeline will do nothing good.

Thus they become the Circle of the Seven, the Seven Sorcerers of the Underworld, the Strigoi, the collective patron gods of survival, each with their own domain.

Neferos, of the wilderness, fungi, and decay.

Haris, of electricity, hunger, and poison.

Vlassis, of poems, criticism, and sound.

Lena, of the stars, foreknowledge, and forgetfulness.

Hermione, of study, hard work, and intuition.

Osial, of winter, shadows, and ice.

Vronia, of strategy, games, and competition.

[sleepylixie]

3.1k words, Angst, Fluff (Romance), Non-idol AU

Kim Hongjoong X fem! Reader

Inspired by Love you Like Me- William Singe ( Playlist here )

Beware of Profanity, Heavy themes of infidelity, implied sexual activity 

The studio was loud, bustling with murmurs and movement, lighting being fidgeted with and artists putting in the final touches to the simple, neutral toned set. A shiver traced down your back as you watched people walk this way and that, preparing everything to be perfect just in time, just before the cameras begin rolling and the star of the show settles in front of the camera-

The steady buzz of your phone in your hand interrupted your train of thought. Took him long enough, you thought to yourself as you watched the name flash across the screen. Hongjoong. 

Not a couple of months ago, his contact’s name had been ‘loml’ with a red heart- how quickly things change. You knew he would call you before you were to go on-air, a tradition that he had unfailingly kept alive over the last 3 years. This particular call however, was different. Special. 

Because it was going to be the last. 

You would miss his calls, you mused as you accepted the call. His smooth, lilting tenor always greeting you with- 

“Hello, starlet.” 

The amused endearment didn’t make you smile like it used to. You used to shy away from it when you had initially started dating Hongjoong. Over the years, however, you had truly grown into a starlet in your own right so the inside joke was now laced with adoring truth. 

“Hello, my love.” 

Your voice was soft, mellow, the perfect replication of how you would respond to him in better times. Funny how a relationship you’d valued as much as your career had come down to pretence and secrets- 

“Are you ready?”  

The real question is, are you ready? The response was heavy on your tongue but you swallowed it down, letting a sardonic smile curl up the edge of your lips as you hummed into the phone, a show of contemplation.

“I think so.” 

If only he knew what you were talking about. 

“I’m sure you are, you spent so much time in the studios with Chris. Trust yourself, darling. You’re going to do amazing.” 

There had been a time when his reassurance would’ve given you enough motivation to rule the world- now though, it felt like nothing but a sham. Pretty, deceptive falsities that he kept up only for the sake of his promise to you. A game of make-believe he seemed to be amusing himself with. 

He was going to find out soon enough, you convinced yourself. He was going to find out soon enough that you were no game to be trifled with. 

The producer caught your eye, motioning to the set – it was time. 

“It’s almost time, I need to go.”

What a glorious double entendre this conversation was. 

“Good luck, my love. I’ll be watching the live.”

You hummed again before hanging up, coughing into your hands as you made your way to the set. The producer flashed a smile and thumbs up at you as you took your seat on the stool meant for you. 

“We’re going to be live in 3 minutes. Ready?” 

Between your makeup artist doing some final touches on your face and the sound technician checking the wires and mic-set for your in-ears, you returned the producer’s thumbs up with a confident smile- more confident than you were truly feeling, you were sure. 

“Ready.” 

All too soon, the 2 minutes had passed and you were sat alone in front of the camera, nothing but a mic in your hand as the producer did a countdown- Rolling in 3,2,1-

The first strains of the backing track flowed through your in-ears, your grip on the mic tightening as the repetitive, building melody washed over you like the tune of a haunted nursery rhyme. With the melody came the memories, a barrage of feelings tinged angry red and melancholy pink. 

After all these years, it seemed your love really had to end the way it began- mic in hand, lyrics at your lips and leaden heart in your chest. This time though, he wasn’t the healing balm, he was the twisted knife itself. 

Kim fucking Hongjoong.

“He never calls this late at night, no… But I can tell he’s been drinking all night long.” 

The studio was pin-drop silent except for the soft, dragging lilt of your voice. The track Chris had made for you could catch a listener’s attention all too easily- the magic your voice brought with it soon afterwards only served to hook the listeners more. 

You remembered slipping into the studio one rainy 2 a.m, scrawled sheets of paper feeling heavy and hot in your pocket. Chris had been rightfully concerned with your deceptively put together appearance, knowing exactly what had brought about the torrent of words you had thrown onto the table. 

Chris had always been safe, warm comfort for you- from the days of pulling all-nighters before graduation to the sleepless nights spent recording and producing in your shared studio, your friendship had come a long way.

But you’d shaken your head at him, urging him to look at the sheets. The memory of your pen slicing into the sheets was still burnt onto your fingertips, your vision almost blurring with tears as you scrawled every word that came to mind. Fiery, sensual, vengeful words seared onto the paper, a clear reflection of everything that had silently plagued you every night, every sunset, until you broke.

 “He sounds upset, I’m asking baby where you at, I called you earlier but you didn’t call me back…”

You met Hongjoong a little more than 4 years ago in a dive bar- him, the tired university student looking for a break and you, the evening’s entertainment. Your set had been entirely covers of moody love songs, reminiscent of your own sentiments- all you wanted to do was write your own music but it seemed all rookies were destined to be stuck with small gigs and other artists’ music. 

But for some reason, this one man with electric blue hair that contrasted- clashed, even, with his formal outfit had approached you after you finished your set. Only when he sidled closer to you did you noticed the paint splatters on his cuffs and the tiny earring dangling against his neck. The first thing he told you was that he had fallen in love with your voice and would love to get you a drink so he could hear it more. 

Even in the heartbroken haze you were in, you knew there was something about this odd patch-work quilt of a man with a sparkly smile that you couldn’t shake. Conversation had been uncannily easy after that-

Falling in love with Hongjoong however, hadn’t been a cakewalk by any means. 

 “He’s breaking down, I’m about to lose it… I’m screaming who the fuck were you with…”

Falling for Hongjoong was walking through fire and hail and ice; it was always expecting the worst out of each other but somehow ending up with the best too; to see each other as flawed humans before possible targets of affection. It took a good part of a year for the both of you to acknowledge any sentiment beyond friendship for each other, even more time to consider dating. 

He’d been hesitant at first- so had you. But as Hongjoong murmured to you that fateful evening your relationship began, the thought of not knowing how you’d be together was one he could not digest. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t agreed- but to disagree would’ve been a regretful lie. 

Over the years, it had always warmed your heart to have known without a shadow of a doubt that he would walk through all the world’s calamities for your hand in his.

Kim Hongjoong was perfect, after all. 

The perfect son of a perfect family, the visual arts graduate with a perfect score, the perfect fit for a job as an art gallery’s curator- Surely, his love was tinted with the same shade of perfection as the rest of him?

You were wrong. 

 “I grab my keys you better tell me where you at… he said he fucked up but there’s no taking it back...”

Kim Hongjoong was fickle as a wayward breeze where the matters of the heart were concerned. It was easier for him to let people love him, feel the adoration for him rolling off people’s eyes and bodies than be the person to love freely. Love was vulnerability to him, but gods, did he make vulnerability look gorgeous. 

Maybe the very reason he began to love you at first was because you didn’t care for his perfection.

His words still echoed in your ears sometimes, especially in nights that were woefully sober or afternoons that were hopelessly unproductive. There had been a time when the only things you remembered of the honeyed rasp was from your best dreams, promising you forever in every day- 

Not anymore. All you remembered now was the way he had sounded that night, alcohol and regret mixing badly in his veins, voice rough and stilted and broken as he asked you for forgiveness, for space in your heart despite his mistakes.

 “I gave everything to you and this is what you turn around and do…”

You wish you’d never driven to him after his teary confessions, hoping against hope he was pranking you and had only drunk too much to cater to common sense. You wish you hadn’t walked yourself to his best friends’ night club and have to witness the look of pity Seonghwa and San cast upon before handing Hongjoong over to you. 

You wish you hadn’t put yourself through the utterly tragic ordeal of picking up after him. Especially now, that you know how the future would look after that night. 

The memories steeled your voice through the smooth notes, the music rising and falling as the backing track began to build. You’d struggled to record this section of the song- your breath always seemed to catch and hold when you sang the words, your chest feeling too heavy, tongue too leaden to mouth the next lines. But today, the tune was like second nature to your lips, the sentiment almost easy to express. 

Surely he was watching now, wherever he was, the lyrics’ meaning sinking into his skin with every word. Some tiny, savage part of your brain hoped he felt the same cold terror and sense of unfairness you felt all this while- you hoped he would drown in it until it consumed him, soul and all. 

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

He’d crawled into your bed with you that night, holding you closer than he had ever held you in 3 years. Soothed your tears of pure disappointment and cried way too many of his own, your shoulders shuddering as you pulled each other closer. Murmured apologies a million times, over and over again against your skin as he curled his body around yours, until you fell into a restless sleep. 

You still remember the time-dampened images of the nightmare you had that night, the shadows laughing at you for being an inadequate girlfriend, an unfit person, that he probably cheated because you weren’t doing enough for him. You’d awoken a mere couple of hours after the both of you had nodded off, Hongjoong’s grip on your body still tight despite his state of slumber. 

Was he worried you’d wake up and walk away?

He would find you in your kitchen in his old shirt when he woke up anyway, tired eyes and tired limbs and enough coffee for 2 in the French press. 

 “I wanna know, every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you've been lying…”

A mistake, he’d called it. One-off error in judgement, a single moment in time he had chosen not to listen to his better sensibilities. It had happened once, entirely because of his lapse in judgement, he said. It would never happen again; he swore to you. Promised to you with your hands in his, earnestness in his gaze that you had never been subjected to until now- then again, he’d never given you reason to mistrust him until now. 

You’d asked for a promise from Hongjoong that day- a no-closed-doors policy on your relationship. It should’ve been a no-brainer as far as you were concerned, but it seemed that people like Hongjoong needed the reminder that not all people lived the way they did. That love wasn’t reckless free fall to everybody, a spark that burns fast and bright and fizzles out just as quick. 

 “I wanna know, does she fuck you like I did…I wanna know, and will she love you like I did…”

You wish you’d been less mature about the whole affair. 

Singing the words aloud only made you wish you’d thrown the words at him the first time it happened, instead of now, behind the safety of two screens and physical distance. You should’ve allowed yourself the sheer meltdown that the situation warranted, allowed the rage to take over your system even if it was for those few unfiltered seconds.

Hongjoong’s actions hadn’t deserved the maturity you afforded them. But you couldn’t blame yourself- in those fleeting moments, the primary emotions you had felt was that of inadequacy. You should’ve trusted yourself more.

 “Boy this ain’t how it’s supposed to be...Dancing between someones else’s sheets…”

After the burning hurt from the fiasco died down, it felt like Hongjoong had taken it upon himself to prove to you how special, how important, how absolutely irreplaceable you were to him. In the haze of it all, you ended up loving it. 

The once almost stoic man was now making an effort to be more to you, less of the disappointment he had caused you. He made an effort to talk to you, open up about his frayed relationship with love – hesitant at first and then naturally. 

I care about you. I love you; he’d murmured to the ceiling one night. You were silent, body resting against his as he arranged the sheets higher around your bodies. I wanted to know what we’d be like together and I haven’t regretted a second of it. I can’t imagine my days without you around.  A soft kiss planted against your hairline that you returned against the crook of his neck as sleep claimed you.

 “I can’t believe this is really happening, your guilty conscience is going to be the death of me..”

The next few months were a daily reminder of how much Kim Hongjoong had come to know you over the years of your relationship. Your favourite flowers turned up like clockwork at your desk every Tuesday, accompanying a note in his quick, scratchy handwriting – a new tradition of mid-week dates at experimental restaurants with oddly planned menus. Voice notes of his raspy morning voice sending you sweet affirmations that rung in your ears late into the afternoon. 

Even the way he touched you felt softer, more… reverent. Like he’d had a taste of what he stood to lose and never wanted to think of it again. As each day passed, you found yourself resting easy, basking in the attention and adoration and soft romance of it all.

Looking back on it, you should’ve known. What was it they say about a cheat?

They expect you to be loyal to them despite their faithlessness.

 “You got so caught up in the moment...But she’ll only love you when she’s lonely…”  

The second time it happened, the only thing your heart felt was a wildfire doused in rage and an almost crippling sense of treachery. A fellow artist in the same recording company as you had slipped into the studio late one night, just as you were packing up to head home. She’d pulled you to the couch on the side, holding your hands in hers as she hesitated before asking her questions- Are you sure your boyfriend is faithful? He keeps leaving the club I perform at with other girls?

Your fingers curled tightly around the mic, trying your hardest not to let your other hand clench the fabric covering your legs. You would give the world neither the privilege nor the misfortune of knowing how much truth this song really held. The world didn’t- no, Hongjoong didn’t deserve it. Not anymore.

 “This ain’t a game you better tell me where you're at, No boy, you fucked up and there’s no taking it back..”

You’d dropped by Hongjoong’s apartment that night, hands shaking in your coat pockets and head spinning from the rush of emotions. You had a spare key, and it was only a matter of dropping him a quick text before letting yourself in. Betrayal? Rage? Frustration? Disappointment? It was the disgusting cocktail in the pit of your stomach that led you to snoop through his phone while he was in the shower-

You wish you hadn’t but oh, you’d be damned if you weren’t glad you had.

He’d brought girls to his apartment at the end of so-called club hopping nights with Seonghwa. Every Friday. Ever since he’d made his ‘promise’ to you.

Every single Friday.

He’d bedded some random chick from the clubs and then turned up at your doorstep every weekend like nothing had ever happened.

Every. Single. Friday.

 “I gave everything to you …and this is what you turn around and do..”

You remember slipping out of Hongjoong’s apartment as quickly as you had turned up, faking an emergency at the studio to dash out the front door. Stubbornly holding your tears at bay as you drove back to your own neighbourhood, out of the car and into your apartment. Collapsing on your couch in a daze just as the breakdown began.

You still don’t know if the tears you shed that night were of anger or sadness- with the urge to destroy everything Hongjoong stood for, the only thing you wanted to do was never see him again.

For a second, you were transported back to that disaster of a night, the studio melting away into the familiar walls of your apartment, closing in on you as the despair and bottomless rage set in. There was an edge to your voice as you sang now, more angry than sad like before. Was he listening? Was he able to hear your farewell in the lyrics?

Was he panicking that you found out? Or worse, did he not care at all?

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

The next morning, you’d woken up with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, but with one clear motive seared into your mind- revenge.

You’d allowed him into your heart, let him build a home there for years and years. You had loved him every way you knew how to- broken at first, unconditionally later. You’d given him trust, a currency you were known to be stingy with- and he turns around and does this to you.

Maybe that was childish of you; maybe a more mature person would’ve broken it off that day, wallowed in heartbreak and made efforts to move on. But no, not you.

If Hongjoong had found it acceptable to take girls home while being in a relationship with you, he would definitely find it acceptable if you aired some of his dirty laundry yourself.

 “I wanna know every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you been lying..”

Chris had been concerned when you walked into the studio, looking almost entirely functional and not worse for wear at all.

It made sense, your best friend’s worry. It had only been 3 days since…since the incident and besides an update message, you had burrowed yourself at home and entirely unreachable. But here you were today, sheets of paper filled with your scrawl covering the table in front of you- lyrics.

Read them, you’d muttered, shoving the pages towards him- your hands shook slightly, the first crack in your façade. They’re a bit of a mess, but they mostly make sense.

Only you would remember being drunk off your mind on whiskey and later, wine the whole time. Alternating between feverish writing and heartbroken sobbing. Pretending to be completely fine to Hongjoong, telling him to not ‘interrupt your creative process’. Staring out into the starrless night skies and wishing that one day soon, Hongjoong would feel the hell you were feeling now. One day, you would look a camera in the eye and sing these lyrics out loud, for the world to hear, for him to hear. And you’ll be damned if that day, Kim Hongjoong didn’t get his final taste of who he’d just lost.

 “I wanna know…does she fuck you like I did, I wanna know,  will she love you like I did..”

Getting the right feel to the lyrics while recording the song had been all too easy, waving off Hongjoong’s curiosity about your newest project easier so.

It was a surprise for him, you would smile, dropping fleeting kisses against his cheekbones and jaw just the way he liked. He always smiled and dragged your mouth to his own, letting his smile slide against your own, murmuring that he was going to follow you into the studio to take a peek for curiosity’s sake. 

Talk often fizzled out at that point, because god, it was so difficult to stay away from each other’s bodies and out of each other’s arms after the long days of being your own people, strong and resourceful and adult and independent. It was easier to let your muscle memories take over, touch and sense and feel every single wretched thing that Hongjoong was so capable of making you feel.  

 “She won't do you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…she won't touch you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t get a wild sense of pleasure singing those lines, your eyes not leaving the camera pointed at you. Was it revenge well served? A broken heart being healed?

Over the weeks of preparing for the song, you’d realized how true those words were. The burning sense of betrayal and hurt hadn’t faded in the least- you still woke up every morning feeling lesser than, but never again. Never would you let anybody feel like this again.

Nobody would love Hongjoong like you could. It was about time he realized that. Pity, though, that you wouldn’t be around to witness it. 

“She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.”

The music fizzled out into silence, the producers counting down as you stayed still- 3,2,1 cut! In pursuit of the feeling of reckless freedom, Hongjoong had lost the one person he claimed made him feel like he belonged. How unfortunate for him, you mused, as the studio erupted in claps, the producers grinning widely and everybody smiling at each other. In the middle of the chaos, the door swung open- His eyes were wide, short blonde hair a windswept mess against his forehead, the single stalk of your favourite flower hanging limp in his hands. Surely there were paint marks on his cuffs, and the tiny earring would jingle prettily when he moved, but as his gaze met your dead ones, you could only think one thing-

She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.

Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think~ xoxo, Elliana.

Network Tag: @kpopscape​

[franstastic-ideas]

The Villain I Appear To Be

So, after seeing a fan art floating around my dash of Chara from @lostmypotatoes Wild West AU singing 'Why Don't You Do Right?' to Papyrus after the Jolene Incident, and after a brief conversation with potato, I felt... inspired.

So I wrote a thing based on that. It's based on Frisk's feelings after the whole hoopla with Jolene goes down but before Chara finds it in her to get back on stage and sing out her heartache.

My writing may be a little rusty since it's been a while since I last wrote something and it was done in just a few hours, but it has a lot of heart put into it.

I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.

Word Count: 3,957

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFjn67oZ9-Q

(Dumb video inserts aren't working >_<)

A hush fell over the saloon as the owner stepped up onto the platform stage and moved towards the microphone. Grillby cleared his throat, a hint of nervousness in his tone as he made the announcement.

“Due to issues of… health, Miss Chara will not be performing tonight…”

A small round of boos came from the crowd, but one stern look from the fire monster silenced them as quickly as they had come. Others in the audience whispered amongst each other with concern, wondering what horrible malady the sweet show girl had caught.

Grillby knew exactly what kind of illness it was that poor Chara had contracted, the worst one of them all – heartbreak. He had seen everything. Jolene entering the saloon. Papyrus passing her completely to oogle at Jolene. Chara holding onto a parchment with a tightened grip, tears beading at the corners of her eyes… But Grillby wasn’t one to pry into others’ business. He simply told Chara she didn’t look well and sent her home to recover without ever letting the girl know he was aware of what had transpired.

“In her place, Miss Frisk will be performing solo for the night. Please give a warm round of applause for her.”

The seated crowd did as asked of them. Some of the more ornery and drunk men gave a few hoots, hollers and wolf whistles in the lady’s direction as the curtain rose to reveal her place on stage.

Frisk stepped front and center before the microphone, a tight smile on her lips.

It was fake.

Sans frowned in his seat, seeing through her disguise. Was she shy performing without Chara by her side? She had sung before without her, but her voice had fallen to a soft delicate whisper during those times, barely audible, but oh so enchanting to his senses even if he doesn’t understand the words to her song. Almost as if she were whispering her secrets for him to keep and guard.

…Or perhaps that belief was a product of his own lovesick fantasies.

Regardless, the sheriff knew he was in for a treat tonight. Chara was a wonderful person and a talented songstress; he could understand why his brother had taken an interest in her and he felt great sympathy for her catching ill, but whenever she was up on stage with her sister, Sans felt as though Frisk didn’t get much an opportunity to shine.

Then again, Miss Frisk had enough suitors to worry about as is, even when she clearly wore a veil as she mourned her dear departed husband, who Sans had only recently learned never existed. Apparently she wore it to throw off her more troublesome suitors. It warmed his SOUL to its core that Frisk would share something so confidential with him – he wasn’t even upset that she had essentially been untruthful towards him as well this entire time! He understood. Having that kind of unwanted attention coming from all angles from the town’s men would grate on any lady’s nerves in a relatively short amount of time.

A quiet clearing of her throat brought his attention out of his thoughts and to the woman who had captured his SOUL.

 “Sometimes when I

Wanna run away and hide

When there's no one on my side

And all my pride had disappeared”

 Her voice was as faint as it always was when she sang without Chara’s accompaniment. Frisk’s tone was somber. Even her eyes held a glint of sadness in them. She was sad – how could she perform as if nothing were wrong when her dear little sister was currently crying her heart out into her bed’s mattress?

Chara had returned to their temporary dwelling strangely quiet the previous night. It was obvious from the air of gloom surrounding her that something was terribly wrong. When she raised her head to meet Frisk’s eyes, that’s when the dam burst. She wailed, gripping onto her sister’s shoulders as she tearfully explained what had happened at the saloon – that scum Papyrus, sending a letter asking for her to meet him in the star fields that night, only to ditch her for that little tart, Jolene.

Chara cried herself to sleep last night, and that was the last thing Frisk heard before she fell asleep herself. She had climbed into her bed and they slept together in each others arms like they did when they were little girls.

That’s what Papyrus had done to her sister – he had reduced her to a sobbing little girl. And each time Frisk dwelled on this fact for too long in the past twenty-four hours, it made her blood begin to boil all over again.

 “I take it off my mind

And leave it all behind

Nothin' left to do but

Try to take the leap and follow through…”

 She had warned Chara about that playboy. More than once. But even so, she was far more angry with Papyrus than her.

Chara had already learned her lesson.

But Papyrus?

He still needed to be educated on what happens when you make fools out of the Dreemurr sisters…

 “And that's exactly what I'll do…!”

 She craned her neck towards where he was sitting in the crowd, her lips curving upwards wickedly with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

 “I know to you I don't seem very strong

But I assure you before you can find me I'm gone

So come on and catch me you've still got a chance...”

 Her voice began to crescendo, aweing the crowd and illiciting a few hushed whispers. Sans let out a soft gasp, one hand clutched over his SOUL, his eyelights morphing into hearts. Papyrus, however, felt a cold chill go down his spine that he couldn’t shake off for some reason…

Grillby turned towards Frisk from his place behind the counter with a slightly raised eyebrow, but she only gave him a smile feigning innocence. The instrumental picked up, and Frisk turned her gaze back on the crowd, specifically Papyrus, her SOUL pumping with DETERMINATION.

 “But not for long

I'll be rollin' place to place

Won't stop till I win the race

Although I may have crossed the line”

 Sans watched, spellbound, as Frisk danced across the stage, oblivious to the dramatic change of mood between her and his brother present. He was far too distracted by the cadence of her voice to notice. Papyrus couldn’t place why, but he felt like a small defenseless rabbit in front of a powerful lioness while subjected to her fierce gaze.

The lyrics to the song she was singing weren’t helping either.

 “No time to waste on you

I don't plan on slowing

Down, no I'll keep on going

Even if you think I'm in the wrong”

 Papyrus’s deception and Chara’s heartbreak had brought Frisk back on track. She remembered why the both of them came to this town in the first place.

She had allowed herself to become distracted by the the sheriff, and because of that, her mind had been swept away from their objective. Perhaps if she had remained focused on their goal, she could have prevented her sister and that cad from ever getting as close as they had been. Then maybe Chara would be up here on stage singing with her instead of wrapped up in her bedsheets sniffling.

 “Just know that

Although I may not think everything through

I don't take back what I say or regret what I do

I know that some stay in line and they stick to the plan

But if you leave it to me I'll do whatever I can”

 She was the head of the operation, the brains, the planmaker. And Chara was the one who followed those plans to the letter and helped them come to fruitation. She was her darling little sister, her best friend, and her eternal partner in crime.

By toying with Chara’s emotions, he had not only made Chara his enemy, but Frisk as well. Then again, she and him were never friends, but now Papyrus has made himself a powerful enemy with a personal vendetta compared to a few nights ago where Frisk previously considered leaving him unscathed at Chara’s request when they finally did raid the town of its gold.

 “'cause

I know that's what I'm here for

I don't wanna wait around anymore

Even if you can't see

The good inside me

 I don't have the time to tell you

Why I do the things that I do

Just please hold on and soon you'll see

That I'm not the villain I appear to be”

 She and Chara had done their share of heists before, but Frisk had been in this business longer than Chara. Her sissy wasn’t nowhere near as innocent as most of the town’s population thought she was, but she was still a saint compared to herself.

That’s why Frisk always insisted on doing the dirty work during their jobs most of the time – even if Chara had no qualms on doing it herself, Frisk didn’t want to stain her sister’s hands with more blood than necessary, metaphorically speaking or otherwise.

Because deep down, no matter what, she wanted the best for her sweet little Chara. Even when they pickpocketed and stole, what they took, Frisk always kept in mind how their spoils could benefit Chara first, herself second.

Chara had been her entire world since she first entered it.

 “Movin' along, no I won't settle down

Until I'm locked behind bars or I'm kicked outta town

So you can keep on a runnin' around and around

But you will never quite catch up to me!”

 Frisk put her everything into her song and dance routine. Her singing had never been quite as powerful as it was this night, her kicks had more force put into them some members of the crowd realized - Frisk was imagining knocking the teeth of the monster that broke her Chara’s heart right out of his skull.

Focusing on this song was quite literally the only thing on the face of this Earth that was keeping Frisk from leaping off the stage and onto the table where he sat to beat Papyrus within an inch of his life in front of every patron in the saloon at the moment. If she poured her aggression out into her routine, she could hold off on carrying out her violent desires.

 “And I know you think I'm crazy

But I hope that maybe

Now you'll see why…”

 And yet, every time Frisk caught eyes with him in the crowd, her anger rose exponentially. In an effort to calm herself, she switched from maintaining eye contact with Papyrus to looking at the other members of the audience. She didn’t allow her gaze to remain on Sans for too long whenever it fell on him, however.

He had his elbows propped on the table, his hands pressed against his cheeks flushed blue, his heart-shaped eyelights never once tearing away from her focused on her every move – every step she made, every breath she took, he didn’t want to miss a single second.

If Frisk had witnessed this a few days ago, she might have blushed.

But not now.

Those moments between them, when she felt a warmth creep onto her face and her heart and SOUL flutter because of him… She buried them in the very back of her mind, where they were soon to be discarded.

No more silly distractions.

No more tender feelings to take either of them away from their shared ambition.

“We came to this gold infested town with a job to do and I intend to finish it…” Frisk thought, clenching her fists and belting out the last line of her song.

 “I had to tryyyyyyyy…!”

 A lull of silence followed the song’s end, then suddenly, the entire saloon erupted into a raucous round of applause. Grillby was beginning to become concerned that his furniture would be damaged in the excitement, but the crowd managed to compose itself before it ever came to that.

The sole person in the establishment that hadn’t moved a muscle was Papyrus, who had been locked into his current position early into Frisk’s performance. Nobody picked up on his discomfort though, everyone assuming that he too had been taken aback and bewitched by the lovely Miss Frisk’s unexpectedly powerful voice.

He finally moved to take a swig of his drink, the beverage sloshing about when he tried to bring the mug to his mouth with his quivering hand. When he finally got a mouthful, he swallowed hard.

“WASN’T SHE AMAZING, PAPYRUS?!” Sans shouted, his eyes shifting to stars as he rigorously shook Papyrus’s shoulder in his enthusiasm. “I NEVER KNEW MISS FRISK COULD SING LIKE THAT!”

“y-yeah. i didn’t k-know either…” Papyrus stuttered, his knees weak and feeling as though he would collapse if he were to stand up.

“PAPYRUS, YOU BETTER NOT BE THINKING ABOUT STEALING AWAY MISS FRISK FOR YOURSELF, MISTER!” Sans warned with a frown and a sharp jab to the sternum, mistaking his brother’s apprehension for attraction. “IF YOU DO, I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU! SHE HAS ENOUGH UNSEEMLY SUITORS TO DEAL WITH FOR THE MOMENT, AND YOU ALREADY HAVE MISS CHARA! BE THANKFUL FOR WHAT YOU HAVE AND DON’T! BE! GREEDY!”

“y-yeah. c-chara, you’re right again, bro.” He then slowly pushed himself into a standing position and took a few wobbly steps towards the saloon’s counter.

“that was the most terrifying three minutes and thirteen seconds of my entire life…” Papyrus thought as he downed his entire glass, hoping the alcohol would soothe his frazzled nerves after that performance.

Though he wasn’t aware as to why yet, Papyrus knew that Frisk was upset with him for some reason – more than usual. She continued to glare at him with a heated gaze throughout her song and dance number, almost accusingly.

And the lyrics – Papyrus had thought since he first met her that Frisk seemed suspicious, but Sans would hear none of it. It surprised him that someone like Chara, sweet and innocent as a lamb, was related to someone so unsavory. Some of the men around town had been taken in by her, but Papyrus had unknowingly just witnessed her revealing her true colors to him.

Disguised as an incredibly catchy musical number, Frisk’s song had been a subtle declaration of war against the entire town.

And her shared gazes with him throughout were a stern warning – cross either of us again and you’ll pay for it dearly.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 “M-MISS FRISK! PLEASE WAIT!”

Once Grillby dismissed her for the night, Sans attempted to flag her down to compliment her performance and maybe a chat, he hoped. However, Frisk didn’t turn around when he called out to her, didn’t even slow down as she headed out the door.

“IS SOMETHING WRONG?” Sans asked worriedly when he caught up to her, a concerned Papyrus trailing after him not too far behind, but far enough.

She continued to ignore him, her pace quickening just slightly.

Knowing she didn’t want to be bothered at the moment, Sans should have gave up then and turned in for the night to seek answers when Frisk was in a better mood, but his curiousity, confusion and feelings of hurt won out over his common sense.

“FRISK. PLEASE TALK TO ME.” He nearly pleaded when her steps grew even more hurried. “SOMETHING’S OBVIOUSLY WRONG. DON’T KEEP YOUR EMOTIONS BOTTLED UP WHEN TALKING ABOUT IT MIGHT MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER. PAPYRUS DOES THAT AND I HATE IT… SO PLEASE…”

“There’s nothing to say.” She retorted, not slowing down in the slightest.

“DON’T LIE TO ME.” He shot back, rushing in front of Frisk to block her path. “TELL ME THE TRUTH! I’M NOT MOVING UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT’S BOTHERING YOU!”

Frisk kept her head down, not meeting his gaze which matched her own while she had been on stage staring down Papyrus. She bit her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, but Sans then took her face in his hands and gently coaxed her lower lip free, stroking over the abused skin with his thumb.

“FRISK…” He pulled her face closer to his until the tip of her nose nearly touched his nasal ridge, his eyes imploring.

She looked down at their feet and mumbled something, but Sans was quick to tilt her chin upward to regain eye contact.

“FRISK…?” He repeated, his tone filled with concern as his thumbs traced patterns over her cheeks.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

His movements immediately ceased.

“…What?” Sans asked, his voice dropping to a broken whisper.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” She said again, her tone more firm and her gaze sharp as she pried herself away from him and his touch, taking a step back.

“You… you don’t really mean that…” His voice cracked at the end as he gave a wobbly smile. “If this is a joke, this is a really mean one to pull, Frisk… I might just take you seriously.”

“No. You should take me seriously.” She asserted, glaring at him with the very same intensity and hatred that she had towards his lying cheating brother. “It’s not a joke and I most certainly did mean it.”

“But… why?” Tears began to bead in the corners of his eyesockets. “W-Was it something I said or did…? If it was, I’ll never do it again! I promise-”

“No. It’s nothing you’ve done… nothing you’ve done at all.”

“Then that’s it, isn’t it?! It’s something I haven’t done that I was supposed to, right?!” Sans was nearly sobbing now as he tried to reason with a Frisk consumed by thoughts of revenge. “If that’s it, then just tell me! Tell me what to do! I-I’ll do anything for you, just… please don’t do this…”

“There’s nothing you can do. Nothing at all.”

Her tone was cold, so cold…

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

Sans hiccuped once, then twice before falling to his knees, his hands clutching at his chest where inside his ribcage his SOUL was aching and crying out in agony. He let out a heartbroken wail before the sound of his quiet sobs were the only noise heard on the empty streets of the town.

Frisk didn’t spare him a second glance and continued her walk home without another word to spare for him.

Papyrus looked down at his brother, and his own SOUL told him that he should stay and comfort him in his time of need…

But Frisk wasn’t the only one with a penchant for taking revenge.

“hey.”

He said once he had significantly caught up to her and was far away enough from Sans that he couldn’t hear. Frisk didn’t stop but that didn’t matter to him – he could walk and talk at the same time.

“i know you seem to have a bone to pick with me…” That was the understatement of the century there, “but why’d you say all that stuff to my bro? sans didn’t do anything to tick you off, and he definitely didn’t deserve whatever that was back there.”

“…”

“so? don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Frisk suddenly spun on her heel and was standing before him in an instant. Papyrus froze in his tracks, for directly in front of him was the barrel of a revolver, and its owner’s finger was hovering dangerously over the trigger.

“One false move and I’ll shoot you down. I mean it.”

“d-do i need to raise my hands up, or…?” He brought himself to ask, his arms already half raised before she answered him.

“No. Keep them down. Seeing your hands raised up like that makes you look kind of creepy. Like you’re about to do something… untoward.”

He briefly considered raising his arms again just for that comment, but her thumping the business end of her revolver against his sternum quickly told him that testing Frisk’s rapidly waning patience was a bad idea.

“Listen, I’m in a hurry, and I’m sure you are too.” The silver of her revolver glinted in the moonlight. “So you had better leave me alone from here on out.”

“that doesn’t explain why you treated my brother the way you did!” Papyrus pushed his wariness of the weapon in front of him aside, the image of Sans slumped on his knees as he cried on the cold hard ground burned in his eyesockets. “why…? i know you never liked me, but… i thought you at least liked him. no, i know you did… so… what’s changed?”

A bitter smile slipped onto her lips as she all but spat out, “Now you will know of the joy of comforting a sibling who’s SOUL aches with heartbreak, of the restless nights that will be spent holding them in your arms as they bawl like a small child…”

“what are you talking about?! that doesn’t explain anythi-”

The end of the revolver slamming against his chin and forcing his mouth shut silenced him.

“C h a r a…” Frisk hissed. “You… you hurt her. And it’s taking every fiber of my willpower, every ounce of my DETERMINATION… not to end your life right here and now.”

“what did i ever do to chara?” He questioned incredulously.

“You really don’t know?! Is your skull that vacant of rational thought?!” She growled, her pointer finger lightly stroking the cool metal surface of the trigger.

“all i know about chara right now is that she’s supposed to be sick and from the sound of things, it’s supposed to somehow be my fault.”

“And it is your fault.” She said punctuated by a swift nod.

“y-you’re crazy! how could her falling ill be any fault of mine?!”

“How? Does the name ‘Jolene’ ring any bells?”

“jolene? What does she have to do with-”

“But I forget how ignorant you actually are, so maybe this will jog your memory.”

Frisk thrust a crumpled parchment at his chest. Papyrus cautiously unfurled the piece of paper and his SOUL stilled.

 My Chara,

 You performed wonderfully as always. Let’s escape to the star fields tonight. Wait for me there.

                    - Carrot Stick

 He slowly raised his head to meet Frisk’s scornful expression. He opened his mouth but no words would come out.

“s-she… she never showed up last night.” He feebly tried to argue, but Frisk silenced him with another upward thrust of her revolver.

“Because she saw you with that cheap little tramp, Jolene!” She interrupted, then went on with a poor impersonation of the two, “‘Do you have any plans for tonight? None, I hope.’ ‘well you’re in luck then, i’m free for the rest of the night.'”

“…” Papyrus was rendered speechless once again.

“She told me everything, so don’t you even dare try to pin any blame on her!”

Frisk took a deep breath, the hand holding the revolver slowly lowering. “It’s getting late… Now, I believe we both have a distraught sibling to tend to for the night, wouldn’t you agree Mister Papyrus Gaster?”

Her voice had shifted to a faux sugary sweet tone, but he could still hear the underlying venom there. Papyrus heard her footsteps grow more faint, but he made no move to pursue her any further. It was only the thought that Sans was probably still bawling in the empty road behind him that brought Papyrus to his feet. As he gathered his brother’s weak and trembling form in his arms, all he was left wondering was,

“what have i done…?”

[loudlooks]

In Tune

Day 4 of 30 Days of Summer

Inspired by this post and @gingerstorm101‘s tags. Thanks for letting me use your idea, even though it probably didn’t turn out the way you envisioned.

Also, thank you for all the likes, comments, and reblogs!

Tiva, Tony-centric fluff, basically an apartment building meet cute AU

Also on FanFiction and AO3

Word count: 989

His fingers flit over the keys, strings vibrated in the warm summer air. He needed to clear his mind, and movies wouldn’t cut it this time. Keeping his touch light—it was getting late, after all, and he didn’t want to disturb his neighbors—his mind wandered to one particular neighbor; the brunette he had seen hauling moving boxes into the downstairs apartment this morning. If he hadn’t been so rushed he would have offered a hand. And a drink. Dinner. Who knew, he grinned. When the case was over he’d definitely want to get to know her better.

Opting not to sing aloud, he hummed the lyrics softly, wishing he’d had a chance to see Sinatra perform before his death. He would’ve asked him to sign one of his records. Would that have made him a geek, like McGee?

His fingers stilled and he stared into space, mind hard at work, making connections none of them had seen so far.

“The geek!” He briefly slammed the ivories in triumph, then remembered he was trying to be quiet, and called Gibbs to inform him of his breakthrough.

*

When he arrived home from work 36 hours later, with one deceptively innocent looking criminal behind bars, he felt hot, hungry, physically exhausted. Someone in the building had cooked up something fragrant and exotic that made his stomach protest at the prospect of the junk food he usually offered. With the swing of his front door, a note drifted into his living room. Grimacing, he dropped his bag, loosened the tie that doubled as a noose in the warm weather, and picked up the note. Mentally preparing himself to apologize to whichever neighbor had complained for his late night jam session, he turned over the note:

“A humble request to the pianist: O Mio Babbino Caro in Ab Major”

His brow wrinkled as the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. That was a nice surprise to come home to.

Opting for a much needed shower first, he placed the neatly written note on his coffee table, and looked for the sheet music on his phone, while wolfing down a bagel on his way to the bathroom.

Feeling like a functioning human being again twenty minutes later, he sat down at the piano wearing nothing but shorts. After some stretching, he rested his fingers on the keys, looking at the sheet. He was about to start playing when he realized he had no idea which neighbor had made the request. Wanting to make sure they got the most of it, he stood up and opened a window, letting in a cool breeze which carried the delicious smell from earlier in the hallway.

He sat back down at the piano, and shivered briefly as the cool air raised goose bumps on his skin. A solemn feeling filled the room, a shiver ran down his spine.

Shrugging off the sudden change in atmosphere, he sat up straighter and began to play. His fingers caressed the keys with a reverence of their own accord. While he appreciated classical music, he rarely played it, but for some reason this piece spoke to him.

His hands hovered over the keys for a few seconds after the piece ended, then he dropped them in his lap. Clapping floated in through the window. He smiled widely, enjoying the fact that he had clearly made someone happy.

*

Work had ended early, the good mood he had been in since yesterday hadn’t ended at all. Looking for a place to park he watched a piano store delivery truck pull away from the curb. Taking advantage of the parking space, he wondered which of his neighbors had decided to get a piano.

Whistling as he bounded up the stairs, he was relieved to start the weekend early for a change. His hat landed on the coat rack with precision, and he couldn’t help but mimic the Fonz. Grabbing a beer from the fridge and throwing open a window, he wondered if he should buy a lottery ticket. He took a swig from the beer, he was feeling lucky tonight.

His eyes landed on the piano as a well-known tune landed in his mind. Singing “Luck be a Lady”, he half-danced towards the piano and sat down with flair. He placed the bottle on the seat beside him, not caring if it left a stain.

A tune he hadn’t heard in a long time drifted in through the window, making him look up. He grinned, memories of childhood piano lessons mingled with the music lightly filling his apartment. He began to play along, ignoring the resentment one particular piano teacher had created for  “Heart and Soul”. The music coming from outside faltered, then resumed with a passion. He snorted, then realized with a flutter in his stomach that the music was coming from his new downstairs neighbor.

When they finished the piece, he jumped to his feet, grabbed his keys and the note with the neatly written request, and rushed downstairs. He skidded to a stop in front of her apartment, some classical piece he couldn’t quite place vibrating through the door and into his soul. He knocked before knowing full well what he was doing.

The music stopped, he fussed with the note, then held it up as soon as the door opened. Her face opened like a flower in the early morning light at the sight of it.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly.

He thought he caught a glint of sadness in the depth of those impossibly brown eyes, but was too distracted to pay it much attention.

“No, thank you,” he insisted and introduced himself properly.

“Ziva David.” She smiled warmly. “I missed lunch, so I am having an early dinner.” She pointed behind her. “There is lasagna in the oven, would you like some?”

He smiled his million-dollar smile. Luck was definitely a lady tonight, he thought as she closed the door behind him.

tag request: @ttiva, @youaresoooloved

[human-antithesis]

Imber Luminis - Nausea (One Song Album)

Lyrics:

Something must have changed, my hands tremble from malady Insipid voices nescient of their own futility My chest heaves from the burden, their lack of reality Do they see beyond their own convenience (that) the world is empty? Some of these days - There are no perfect moments I feel so lonely - Nothing more than a milestone Some of these days - Nothing will happen I feel so lonely - Starting with the end Sojourning onward memories of places I have been My heart never leapt left in a nauseous state I now descend Events transpired experiences happened Did I have no will to conquer those days did I pretend Depressive and alone existing among those distracted One working tirelessly with his hands over his mouth cupped Two talking excitedly, about friends and past hearts engaged Another reading silently, by the window shaking his legs Some of these days Some of these days - There are no perfect moments I feel so lonely - Starting with the end

I can't recall a single blissful moment this life has ever brought me It's nauseating me in every fucking way This stench of existence, any moment of solace, of apathy, or numbness that I find Is immediately raped by storms of abhorrence, by tumultuous disgust Every uttered word, every laugh or sigh, every grieve, every cry Every dream or hope; every sign of life sickens me, fucking sickens me

Enamoured with trascendence of hypocritic oaths or solvence Determined in iniquity or liberty to create or to destroy in splendour Alas with beginnings, a certainty of cesation is needed Abrupt and frivolous of mere contingency, detached of existence In chaotic reversed chaosphere, affliction in benevolence Or pure nihilism or perhaps misanthropy as the obscuring avalanche Of 'mented thoughts, at the gate of the mind, conjured by the mind Seemingless authority or lack of comprehesion in need Or timeless values or pure birth, and death

Monotonen klopfen dringt in den schlaf Der rest leben kehrt zurück Beginnt sick den körper gefügig zu machen. Der blick streift sinnsuchend umher, doch Bett, fenster und wand - Haben keine bedeutung mehr. Beine laufen autark den flur hinunter Raus Gedanken - Diese balken stützend - Ruinös Schwindend im sog... welcher wahrnehmung? Ein baum verspricht der sonne nicht zu zögern Entkleidet - Nackt - Brach Legt nich nieder. Der schwarm vögel seiner krone unter kaltem laub. Ich atme mit den händen - Mein zittern im wind Alle wege kreuzen sich in mir. Wer bin ich? Getragen vom handeln. Der mund spricht wort rückwärts Füllt die lungen mit gegenwehr. Was bin ich? mensch, stern, asche?

We are not free, our ideas make sure of that. Bright lights aid the demise. Heavy and painful like shame. We are not free. Unbearable prisons of our minds. Nauseating. Incapable of self assurance. Weary and sullen the soul rots. We are not free. Like a poisonous apple inside the throat. Destined to destroy that which it should nurture. Monotonous misery and suffering. We are not free. Tricks played on the mind to forget this, only to crush any remaining sanity. Searching for meaning where there is has been long lost. We are not free. Intolerable thoughts in a frozen mind. Cannot escape them. False accounts of existentialism drive darkness forward. We are not free. Self contempt is projected by pitiless judgement. Pale insinuation isn't reasonable. Admitting belief is just a self deception. We are not free. The lamentable eyes are poor mirror to the soul, Gettin caught in is abhorent and odius for the mind.

I stood atop the precipice of sleep with my hands soaked deep In yearning for the restless moon, awaiting the angeless clouds To prune these afflictions Why does it cripple me, this terror? When it is all a part of the ungrand design Like trees we bloom and then we wilt to bloom again in thoughtless rain My primer of sense and of folly deconstructs before my eyes The guise unveiled, it crumbles into a million splinters of charmless absurdity This imperceptible agony Why does it cripple me, this terror? When it is all a part of the ungrand design Like trees we bloom and then we wilt to bloom again in thoughtless rain My primer of sense and of folly Why does it cripple me, this terror? The guise unveiled, it crumbles Into a million splinters of charmless absurdity This imperceptible agony

I run, I hunt through my being, searching (for) my place in this world The stars formed dust into life - Not fate, not fortune, not God, I am, because in the second of my birth, no other called for life So I tear, as long as the nausea spares my existence in the dust of stars I want to dream as long as I can, never want to wake up Finally, with the kiss of reality, I ask for my being again and again And no dream of this world will bear this answer for me So I dream as long as the doubt spares my life And I dance, yes I dance at the catwalk of unimportance, wasting my life Searching for faith and hope - It does not change anything My truth is meaninglessness, the truth of mankind I call nausea - And vice versa But I never try to destroy myself: I am too small for that So reality vomits into my heart every day In every breath moans the question about the meaning And I am looking for you to end this farce forever But you'll never find me, cause I'm too small Und so erbricht sich die wirklichkeit jeden tag in meine brust In jedem atemzug stöhnen fragen nach dem sinn Ich suche dich... um diese farce für alle zeit zu beenden Doch du wirst mich niemals finden, ich bin zu klein Searching for faith and hope It does not change anything

La perte de foi, le manque de moi L'ensemble des pensées ternes Qui s'éternisen et s'embrasent Danse avec le feu le plus scintillant Et ma tète va exploser, le battement de mes tempes m'achève Dans ces méandres trop remplies, je bave, je meurs, je sèche ma sève Avec l'envie de crever, et la haine par-dessus tout Vivre avec son contraire de donner, de me dénuder de tout "J'étais là, immobile et glacé, plongé dans une extase horrible. Mais, au sein mème de cette extase quelque chose de neuf venait d'apparaître; je comprenais la nausée, je la possédais." Et mon corps va imploser, cette nausée omniprésente me rend fou Trop de questions, pas de réponses, juste des sentiments trop flous Et c'ents dans mes dernières phrases, peu importe toutes les fleurs Que je m'en suis rendu compte, et cela m'a crevé le coeur. Et c'est dans mes dernières phrases Peu importe toutes les fleurs Que je m'en suis rendu compte Et cela m'a crevé le coeur

The cold wind blows in this quite slow night I can't remember the hours we spent off the light Our breath drawn a thick smoke, staring in empty eyes I could even hear the sickness you've hidden, all the cries (I heard you) Despite your silence and grief (I heard you) Despite your stupid beliefs (I heard you) Come with me again and let's die tonight (I heard you) There is nothing for us in this light Searching for faith and hope, you know it doesn't change anything. You're crawling in a cave in your mind, digging hard until your fingers are bleeding, and you keep on, and either it's endless, either it stops, but in both ways there is no way back up there, and the light above scares you, you forgot it, it blinds you, hurts you, and you keep digging, no matter the pain, because nothing matters, only this darkness, only this envy to lose control and see how much you can take in, staying miserable, hurt, down to a pathetic shell, but you feel alive. Cause you never felt so good today. (Have you ever felt so alive) No one would hear your pain (Have you ever walked your crossroads) Cause you are dead inside (Have you ever felt so alive) I can't bring you back to life (Have you ever wanted to die) And I know I will carry the blame No one would even hear your voice, no matter how harsh you scream The voices inside my head are withdrawing me, I scream in silence I wanted to take you with me, destroy you and heal you and make you again But I cannot hear the words you speak, I can only see the pain

Nothing matters, we all know it. Whatever crisis of existentialism we have is a fraud. It's all about how and when we would leave this world, and we're stupid enough to believe we'd leave a trace. So nothing really matters, considering suicide is just a step forward to the inevitable end expecting us. And I have nothing left to feel joy for. Everything has just been empty since the beginning.

And whatever happens, we stand proud, for what we are Nevertheless, we fight, for an unfair moment of life I can't stand that my words are empty, whatever I scream I resign, don't wanna be

I have nothing left to feel joy for I resign, don’t wanna be Delete my mind so I can change Remove my thoughts so I can stay Gimme the gun so I could change Gimme the gun so I could stay

I have nothing left to feel joy for I resign, don’t wanna be And there is this constant nausea, all around me And I understand it, I possess it And it destroyed my heart