#Theres actually quite a bit of swearing in this chapter-

[likablemuffin]

Kendra always did hate the turtles. (Whumptober)

(From: Random ROTTMNT oneshots)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 10: Blow to the head

So, Donnie had made the Purple Dragons mad.

....Again.

Oh well, the Purple Dragons are just three teenagers; it's not too hard to beat them!

Well, that would be what they would be saying if what happened hadn't happened.

Donnie had foiled one of the Purple Dragons plans again, and obviously, they were pretty pissed.

"CURSE YOU, VON RYAN!" Kendra yells as she uses her new jetpack to start flying away. "Von Ryan? Donnie, who the fuck is Von Ryan??" Leo straightens his posture as he asks this. "Language Leo." Raph sends a small glare Leo's way. "No, but like, genuinely, who is Von Ryan. Does anyone know."

Kendra groans angrily from above them. "YOUR BROTHER YOU IDIOTS!" Leo looks up at Kendra and gives her a confused expression. "Are they like one of our lost siblings, or..." "OH MY GOSH, WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY?!" "No, cause, like, I'm genuinely asking." Kendra grits her teeth and takes out what looks like a genuine gun. 

"Oh shoot-" Leo manages to slip out before Kendra starts trying to SHOOT HIM. "Kendra! Have you lost your mind?!" Donnie calls out to Kendra as he dodges her attacks as well. "I am so tired of you stupid turtles ruining all my plans! I'm going to get rid of you once and for all!" Raph somehow manages to block a bullet shot right at him with his weapons. "So you're going to kill us??" 

Jeremy is on a roof right across from the turtles and he yells up to Kendra. "YEAH- ARENT WE SUPPOSED TO JUST BE STEALING SOMETHING? NOT...MURDER??" Kendra groans from where she's flying and stops shooting at the turtles. "I DIDNT ASK YOU, JEREMY! SO SHUT UP!" Jeremy slumps in defeat.

"Oh, come on now, that's no way to treat one of your friends, is it?" Leo speaks up from his spot while he waits for more action to occur. "YOU LITTLE-" And just like that, Kendra starts shooting at the boys again. 

After a while, Kendra, of course, runs out of bullets. "OH FUCK THIS STUPID THING!!" Kendra tosses the gun to the ground and just straight up charges at the turtles. "Hey, HEY! JEEZ-" Leo yells as Kendra narrowly misses pushing him off the roof. "Do you seriously want to push us off? Thats not very your style, Kendra." "SHUT UP VON RYAN!" Leo knowingly nods his head from where he's standing. "Ohhhh, that's who Von Ryan is."

Kendra turns around to glare at Leo before using her jetpack to shove herself towards him. 

And she knocks into him.

And she pushes him.

Off of the roof.

"LEO!!" Every one of his brothers screams. The world almost seems to slow down as Leo's body makes contact with the wall of an alley and his head snaps back, hitting the side of it. His whole vision goes white, and he gasps. "KENDRA!" Jeremy screams after her. But Leo can barely even hear him. A ringing noise enters his ears as both he and Kendra fall down the side of the wall.

"LEO!!" Donnie screams as he watches his brother his twin  get pushed off the side of the building by that purple-haired bitch. 

Donnie instantly jumps off the side of the building and breaks into a roll at the bottom. His ankle almost gives out, but that's not what matters right now. Leo and Kendra are lying almost directly next to each other. Kendra is struggling to get up off the floor, while Leo just lies there breathing heavily. Donnie rushes over and grabs Kendra by the collar of her shirt. "You." Kendra looks at him with an actually scared look on her face, and Donnie can't help but smirk at it. "You are absolutely dead."

Donnie throws Kendra to the ground, but before he can take out his tech bo, Raph comes up to him. "Donnie, let's get Leo out of here. We can deal with Kendra later." Donnie looks over to Raph, almost about to ask him if he was serious, but the look on Raph's face already tells Donnie what he needs to know.

Donnie glances over to Leo and notices Leo's eyes starting to close. Donnie practically lunges forward and immediately starts gently tapping Leo's cheek. "No, no, don't fall asleep-" Leo dazedly looks up at Donnie and mumbles so quietly Donnie can barely hear, "Donn...ie..?" "Yes, yes, its me, you dumb dumb; please keep your eyes open for me, okay?" Leo's eyelids start to drop slightly, but he still smiles at Donnie and says, "W-We'll...do..."

Raph walks up to the both of them, and Mikey comes running up from the entrance to the alley. "Should I carry him?" Raph speaks up as he gently puts his shoulder on Donnie's shoulder. Donnie waves Raph's hand off. "No, I'll carry him." Mikey looks at him worriedly and crouches down in front of him. "Are you sure Dee?" Donnie glares at him, although he feels bad doing so almost immediately after. "Sorry- yes, I'm sure. Thank you for your concern, Michael."

Mikey nods at him and smiles. Raph and Mikey share a glance before they both start walking to the street where the turtle tank is parked. Donnie very carefully picks Leo up and starts following them. As Donnie starts walking towards the street, he feels a cold hand touch his arm, and when he looks down, he sees Leo staring at him. "I-It'll be...o...kay, Don..." Donnie takes a deep breath. "I know. You'll be fine."

And as they all walk into the turtle tank and Raph starts driving, Leo's eyes close because he's safe in Donnie's arms. He'll be fine. 

He knows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[okthatsgreat]

rewording a post i made a while ago just bc it was a bit nonsensical but something that definitely needs to be examined in the danganronpa fandom is how a lot of characters seem to be interpreted through one single lens of intelligence. does that make sense. like in order for a character to be “smart” in this fandom they SPECIFICALLY need to be book smart and well spoken, regardless of their talents. we gotta shape up guys .. examining other types of intelligence is FASCINATING and really highlights each characters strengths and weaknesses, and this especially applies to emotional intelligence.

like is byakuya smart? absolutely. but is he emotionally intelligent? fuck no!!!! and aoi used that against him in chapter four!!!!!!!! and even though she is misguided as all hell, tenko has the ability to understand her opponent mid-battle and use that to determine how she continues the fight (likely something other fighting ultimates do as well!!!) which is crazy. mikan is able to read facial expressions well, even if she IMMEDIATELY misinterprets this as something she personally did wrong lol. these characters navigate through the killing game differently and in some cases survive because of it, and if you want something interesting to write on it’s definitely something to be examined!!!

also straight up sometimes the fandom interprets characters who don’t speak super formally/are optimistic as dumb too which is so strange. more of the “buff” talents like mondo and fuyuhiko need to understand battle tactics and serious team management/planning in order to get anywhere in their field, but are pushed aside quite a bit because theyre these super gruff macho characters that swear a bunch. sonia as well because she's a fish out of water type of character. and yes he isn’t very well spoken and is very trusting but gonta is an actual scientist guys… i could make a whole separate post about this weird trend of pessimism being seen as smart and optimism as stupid but yeah seriously

anyways all this to say, when writing for a “dumb” character take a step back and ask just what makes them dumb in your eyes. is it because they aren’t considered academic or a scholar?? is it because they’re a “happier” character that might not be as well-spoken?? theres nuance there and this obviously doesn't apply to all of them, like clearly akane isnt super good with emotions or smarts in general, but even THEN her spacial awareness and heightened sense of perception is something that is often under-utilised in fics!! it provides a whole lot of depth to remember that a lot of danganronpa characters are very talented and well versed in other forms of intelligence than what might be most obvious !!!!!

[romanarose]

Hello whore! Happy birthday in advance.

What if ROF Frankie were Beatriz's bio son and Santi were the adopted kid? How would that affect their current personalities?

Also, (within the canon timeline), what if Ben weren't a slut? (Lol) Do you him and Frankie might have run away already? Or maybe Santo would murder Ben?

Rooms on Fire

RomanaVerse Birthday Bash

Okay lets get to thinking here.

Firstly.....

thats a great question. I swear I'm not trying to punish our baby here but I just don't think Frankie would fit what Beatriz would want from the savior either. Honestly I think Will would have been best suited for the role, he woul have been what Beatriz invisioned in a jesus figure; he's calm, rational, compassionate and even tempered generally but is not afraid to do what needs to be done to protect his family. As we see with him killing Melanie, he could have made it hurt... but he didn't. Yes, he hit Rey and that was shitty, but he didn't do it for funsies or rage, he did it to correct behavior. Reyansh is a.... point of contention amoung Ben, Will, and Santi, as is JOnah but Jonah is more careful. Jonah knows not to be caught alone in close proximity, not to be too goofy and silly. He know more boundaries since yes are on him after the whole delilah hollbaloo

Rey is not careful. He's a lover. Wether iris or his friends or even frankie and jonah, he's a touchy, smiley, biiiiiiiig hug kinda guy. Will is trying to manage this relationship, remind Rey he is a guardsman, not her little friend and certainly should be watching himself around Madonna. Will is naturally suspicious after Delilah.

I'm rambling omg this has nothing to do with the story

anyway Frankie in this story is passive, quiet. to quite. He's not wht beatriz wants from a god, and certainly not the savior! I havn't gone into it but she absolutly hurt that poor baby trying to make him tougher, and Santi used to stand up for him. Santi is a lot of things and certainly not a good person or partner but he is very much "mine" when he thinks he owns someone, he owns them. Madonna, frankie, Ben and Will are 'his' and in his teens did not let Beatriz hurt him.

I think Santi would be less..... like that. Santi's psyche broke with the idea of being a god and the savior constantly being ripped away and changed, mixed with his mom raising him to beleive these things, and her own mental illness passed down to him.

I personally think of Santi has BPD, maybe some other stuff. He talks about suffering meltdowns like madonna had and Frankie being the one to calm them. Madonna is autistic coded but i dont think santi has signs of autism, but rather has meltdowns from his BPD. If Beatriz wasn't a shit mom she wouldn't have done things like try to beat it out of him or lock him in closets when he was screaming as a kid. A good mom could have worked with him and he could have turned out fine. but that wasn't int he cards. I think without the uhhhhhhh "hey your a god hey no your not actually your the savior no ur not" all the time he wouldn't be this bad but ti think he'd still be rough. I think his possesiveness of frankie might be toned down. I think Santi knew what beatriz was doing sexually to frankie and since he was also fucking Frankie behind the scenes I think it was just a MESS

As for the other part....

I stand by that Ben loves Frankie. I know that most of yall dont believe me but i think he does XD in the fishben bonus chapter, symptom of being human he clearly cares... but i think he's bit of an hydrenalin junkie. Ben does crazy shit, he has no fear. he's an alcohalic and a drug user Madonna desribes him mostly in fun terms, he's childish and immature. Perpetual teenager.

I think even without the cheating... it couldnt work. I think ben could potentially run away with Frankie, because the high of the run would excite him... but theres 2 problems

1, the main reason he doesnt try to leave now isn't because he wants to fuck others. Ben could fuck anywhere lololol he certainly isnt sexually abusing Iris because he cares about hr in anyway, and all the women in delta he fucks are interchangeable

its because he thinks he's a god. he thinks they all are, he has a loyalty to santi he wont let go of. While Frankie and Santi were beaten and frankie sexually abused, the millers didn't suffer that fate. They were essentially adopted later, im thinking Will at age 10 and Ben at 7 or 6. they were on the verge of death when beatriz rescued them, leaving them both with extreme fealty for the garcia's. Ben fucking frankie behind his back is as far as he will go.

2. The high of running away would wear off, and Ben would want his life of luxery, all the dick and pussy he could ever want, and Iris's food. Hes a pretty boy, not to the most skilled in survival. he'd get bored.

I think if santi wasnt the way he was, maybe ben and frankie could live happily together in delta..... but santi is.... like that

[ziteyra]

A good soldier

Chapter 5

Chapter 1 and Chapter 4

🐟 Synopsis: You'r little expidition with Lyle doesnt go quite as planned

🐟 characters: Quaritch Recom, Waynfleet Recom

🐟themes: same as the last chapter. A bit of cursing, roughing around but nothing serious.

🐠Note:Uhh im almost sorry for the little Quaritch were getting but i promise its not gonna be long. Love y'all 💙

Tagging: @babyduk213 💙

“Well if you reall ywant to help me with my research Lyle there are actually a few things we could do.” you say smiling down at your datapad, not really knowing what to expect the next few hours with him. “Actually we wouldnt even need to leave the grounds to conduct these. Some strength and dexterity tests would be in order as well as the usua-” you are abruptly interrupted by Lyle hitting you on the back and laughing out loud. “OH Y/N! We both know thats not why were out here. Now come on theres something i want to blow your little scientist brain with.” he says as he eagerly licks his sharp front theet.

Nothing about this makes your really excited. Neither the fact that youve been following Lyle for over twenty minutes through the jungle, that your shoulder still hurts from him hitting you and that he still refuses to tell you where you are going. Even your relieve about finally being gone from the dustfilled chambers of the compound seems to be blown away since you left both by Lyles rigorous speed but  also by the Pandoran Flora and Fauna for which you have to watch out every step your taking.

“I swear Lyle im not joking if you dont tell me where your going and how this has any effect on our scientific mission im stopping right here and now and let me get picked up by a helicarrier.” you shout at him having twigs and leaves stuck in your hair as well as sore muscles from trying to keep up with Lyles gigantic Avatar body.

“Oh dont be such a killjoy little scientist. I swear were almost there and you wouldnt wanna miss it. Even your favourit little Capitain comes here from time to time, its almost like our little secret.” he calls back at you, not even bothering to turn around, “ and if your really to tired to walk i can always just throw you over my shoulder again. Its what does savage Navi do with their woman anyway isnt it?”. 

As he laughs more then once about his own jokes, you give up trying to convince him. It was no use anyway threatening him and he probably even knew that no helicarrier would come out here just for you. 

Since Lyle clearly seemed to be eager on reaching his destination you start to wonder what that mysterious place might be. And sooner or later your thoughts drift of to Quaritch again and the fact that even he keot that place a secret. You almost feel something like jealousy again, about their sense of teamspirit in the phoenix project. They certainly seemed to be connected not just through their missions and training together.

You even catch yourself for a second thinking about life with them, as another Navi soldier fighting at the frontiers of PAndora when Lyles voice pulls you out of your daydreams.

“Well isnt that something worth your sweat!” he proudly exclaimed as you both enter through a small tunnel of purple leaves, what seems to be a big clearing with a big burned down tree in the middle. 

“Lopez and Prager discovered it on one of their little trips. You know you always tell us to get a bit more familiar with the local culture and i guess thats what we did.” Lyle grins at you.

Upon hearing these words you look back at him confused but once you get closer to the tree you realize that there once were Navi huts and building all around and inside it. Now taken back by the nature, overgrown and destroyed but still clearly visible with colourfull paintings and beads and even more of their culture hidden behind dirt.

“That wasnt you was it…?” you say as you stumble a few steps back realizing that you just discovered what seemes to eb the remainins of a small navi village.

“Oh sadly not no. No, as i said Lopez and Prager discovered it, already deserted by those tree people. We just set up a little outside base you know. Our basis on enemy grounds as you will. But thats not even the best, come on.” Lyle says proudly.

He almost has to pull you away from the tunnel, with you still being in somewhat of a shock. This was your first time seeing one of their villages for yourself, deserted or not. There was this strange eary atmosphere around the whole tree, you didnt notice it at first but now that Lyle dragged you along with him, around the gigantic treestump, you finally started to notice.

Rarely any birds could be heard across the camp and even the colourfull and almost always glowing Fauna of the jungle seemed to be dampened and grey.

Like it could be feel the life being erradicated in the village not sign of Life could be heard the further you followed Lyle. 

[thaleleah]

That was you! It was such a good question. Very fun to think about lol

Oh no it wasn't me actually 😂 but it is something I like to ask others 🥰

Ethan Landrryyyy omgggg he looked so hot as Ghostface and he looked all psycho and shit 😂 Ghostface in general just gets me going LMAO

Ghostface is soooo hot!!! I actually just read a fun dark!ethan landry series on here and it was so so good! This author also writes for coryo and her fics are sooo yummy 😩

Louis Partridge - okay okay I can see the appeal 👀 Drop the spicy show name, don't be shy

Theres something about him right? The show is called Disclaimer and it's on Apple TV! You should def watch it! It's so good! Highly recommend!

DYLAN O'BRIEN!!!! I agree with him too. He's a come and go crush for me. I forget about him very easily but every time i see him I'm like "hello sir 👀"

I was really obsessed with him when I was 14, then again at 19. Now that I'm older it's also a bit of an on and off relationship with him 😂 But yes. Hello sir 👀

I also forgot to mention another celeb crush I have! He's an Australian actor who was in the third twilight movie. Xavier Samuel. He kinda looks like Louis Partridge too...

I didn't know there was a Cruel Intentions show! I loved the movie when I was younger so I'll def have to check it out. What streaming service/channel is it on?

Yea so a lot people were actually hating on it because they thought it was insulting to the OG. But once they saw it, they were like 'nvm it's a good show' 😂 It's on Prime Video 🥰

Also girl... that sneak peek of Godless... ugh 😩 I can't wait to read chapter 3!!

Oh no it wasn't me actually 😂 but it is something I like to ask others 🥰

Ohhh I see I see lol. Still an awesome question so props to the anon that did ask it. I had tons of fun thinking about it! I love hearing other people’s answers too

Ghostface is soooo hot!!! I actually just read a fun dark!ethan landry series on here and it was so so good! This author also writes for coryo and her fics are sooo yummy 😩

Ghostface is sooooo hot. I love to play the game Dead by Daylight and the intense chases plus if he gets to mori me makes me so excited. Plus most of the killers that play Ghostface have such personality and makes it really fun.

Give me the recs, babes 👀

Theres something about him right? The show is called Disclaimer and it's on Apple TV! You should def watch it! It's so good! Highly recommend!

I’ll check it out!

I also forgot to mention another celeb crush I have! He's an Australian actor who was in the third twilight movie. Xavier Samuel. He kinda looks like Louis Partridge too...

Twilight! Bringing back my crush on Jasper lol. But yes! I know exactly who you’re talking about!

Yea so a lot people were actually hating on it because they thought it was insulting to the OG. But once they saw it, they were like 'nvm it's a good show' 😂 It's on Prime Video 🥰

People just like to hate on stuff, I swear 🙄 I’m excited tho! I’ll have to check out this show too

Also girl... that sneak peek of Godless... ugh 😩 I can't wait to read chapter 3!!

Yay! I’m glad you like it! I’m really excited too and I’m actually so upset with myself that I don’t have it done yet. I feel like such an asshole lol. Really sorry about how long it’s taking. It’s 10k words now so I could just cut it where it is and it would be on par with the other chapters but I’m not quite where I think the chapter should end yet soooo we continue I guess lol. I have a specific scene I want to end on and it’s literally just right before it right now. It’s got some spicy stuff in it tho so hopefully that makes up for the wait lol

[itsgirlcraft]

Vent

TW body horror vent art (dismemberment, blood, twisted limbs), swearing, lots of caps

Tl;dr: online college reading makes my back ache and my anxiety is off the charts. I keep hyperfixating and tensing my body too much when not doing school, so I'm wasting my energy and getting bad sleep. I want to quit psychology but I fear that's the cowards way out. I'm running out of meds so I only have today and Saturday to get ~5 hrs of reading done.

I'm so fucking tired and half of its my fucking fault. This whole godamn week, actually since I started college, I've had shit ass sleep and no rest and I fucking HATE IT but I KEEP DOING IT AND

FUCK!!!

I'm sorry I know that like all of you mutuals have it hard too I don't wanna put my stupid self-sabotaging bullshit on your shoulders but hhhhhhhh. I'm seething and I can't fucking get any of this BS done and AAA I just want to REST but NOOO, I have to go play minecraft for 5 fucking hours and draw stupid shit for 3 hours and fucking waste my existence away! I haven't gotten a fucking shower in a godamn WEEK! But noooo, I can't just GET UP and do that! I have to fuck around doing bullshit that just hurts my fucking body because of my stupid negative urgency ass!!

((I react really stupidly impulsive to stress and do shit I shouldn't)) it's not even like I'm hurting myself on purpose, I'm just such a bitch I keep the cycle going and going and going and FUCK!! I swear I'm fucking trying I swear to god I hate this too but it NEVER FUCKUNG WORKS I just go a tiny bit feeling okay and them BAM the moment I am stressed or worried I go fuck off to neverland and horrifically fuck myself over!!!

((I've been hyperfixating in a...really bad way lately, more than usual. I'm not talking abt the quirky or cool shit, I'm talking my muscles tense up so bad they hurt and my wrists go numb and my fucking legs twist round each other so bad that I can barely fucking walk.)) Hhhhhhh. It's like cutting off my other leg after college has already broken the other one.

College has completely fucked me over and sent me on a stupid spiral for the millionth time but this time idk if I'll even get out of this in one piece bc this stupid hyperfixating has drained energy that isn't even THERE. I fucking spent just under 2 hours fuckibg reading 16,232 WORDS for psychology on Monday and my fucking shoulders BURNED from sitting tense at my computer and AAAA. Then I spiraled MORE Tuesday bc I didn't wanna do that AGAIN. Bc my stupid ass psych textbook is online only, and DOESNT HAVE A PAGE COUNT OR WORD COUNT! So Monday I didn't even KNOW what I was getting myself into and fucked up!! And then Tuesday I got a word counter that worked for the site and was able to FINALLY finish chapter 1 for psych only to spiral AGAIN! Because THEN I realized it'd take around 3 hours for each chapter and I have to read chapter 2 TOO for this week!

But I thought I had to do it ALL YESTERDAH bc the godamn discussion board bullshit is supposedly due on Thursdays! ((The syllabus is inaccurate, and I only got that Thursday bit from a different document. It's unclear if part 1 is on Thurs or not. The first half is making a FUCKING ESSAY with 3 paragraphs, thesis, citation, etc. And part 2 is responding to 2 people with 8 sentences and a citation but GUESS WHAT! Each response is 1 point! And the main essay/post is 8 points! Combined they're just TEN DAMN POINTS! THERES ONLY 8 WHY DO I NEED TO DO A FUCJING ESSAY?!???!))

I DID manage to do the stupid discussion on Thurs, bc I said fuck it and didn't read ch 2. But NOW I have 3 hrs of reading to do STILL. PLUS I seem to have THE SAME FUCKING AMIUNT FOR ENGKISH!!! I thought English was chill but NOOOO, it has these stupid pdf photocopies of a book and I have to take screenshots to annotate bc otherwise it's just a useless text that I can't do anything with! And it'll probably take like 2 hours to read JUST THE FIRST CHAPTER! THERES THREEE FUCKUNG CHSPTERS LIKE THIS! WHYY!! And I thought reading was GOOD AND EASY BUT NO! My fucking body is so squishy and fragile that it breaks instantly and I can't fucking read for more than an hour and FUCKKK I WISH I HAD A PAPER COPY OF THIS SHIT! BUT ITD COST MOREEEE!!

It's not even like this shits HARD TO UNDERSTAND. I KNOW THIS! LITERALKY I fucking recognize EVERYTHUNG in psych so far like is this NECESSARY?? I KNOW that reading is IMPORTANT and I should do it but FUCK!! IS IT WORTH DESTROYING MYSELF?????

And I wanna quit psych but that feels like the cowards way out bc I KNEW there'd be lots of work. I fucking knew what would come about but here I am!! In the fuckibg spiral! And I haven't said any of this to my mom bc she's tired enough and I just want to get this shit done. I feel like I'm eating my own body and health, sacrificing it, to try to do this shit that I know I probably need to give up on. But I don't wanna just STOP, I DO like psych and I wanna learn!! I WANT to be here!! But I can't fucking get this bullshit reading done and it's driving me insane!!!

AND!!! AND NOT TO MENTION MY FUCKIN MEDS!! My adhd meds are regulated heavily so I only get a month's worth but my pharmacy/doc are so unreliable when filling it that I have to assume I may not have any for a few fucking days. AND THATS A DEATH WISH IN COLLEGE!! One fuckjng day missed is MASSIVE. Even tho I'm all online and shit I CANT RISK IT, but I only have ONE!! ONE! And it's already fuckjnv 4 pm rn and I've still got 10 page for English ch 1 and then the 3 hrs psych reading and the idk 2 hrs English ch 2 reading and FUCK HOW DO I DO THIS??? And I really wanna have a chill time on Halloween so I wanna get next week done ASAP but this week's a bitch in itself and AAAAAAA!!

[2500kn]

a little announcement before i go back into hibernation (aka locking in for finals week)

its our final semester of being a 3rd year and we're going to be working on thesis very soon, but in the short break I do hope to release some short fics and maybe a very short chaptered fic (who knows if i'll have the motivation) after our finals! (which is actually not a lot but well we're in game development and doing a lot of things to make game look good™)

DO NOT expect that'll I'll be posting ALL of it during the break but here are some that I had in mind:

Knight au featuring mage prince kanade, personal knight mafuyu, royal painter ena and knight mizuki (and some other background prsk characters)

laufey mzen (dont you notice howww i get quiet when theres no one else arouuund)

angst mzen? (i have one already its just that i barely wrote in it and its about a song about a camera)

some sort of longer fic of a nice fic i saw about florist kanade & mizuki + tattoo artists mafuyu and ena

a bit of a side note:

i do notice that chaptered fics garner a lot more attention than those that are one shots (surprisingly, prsk ao3 is kinda weird), and even then i dont have much of a following here or on twitter to make a significant impact on.. quite literally anything. though i do appreciate it when someone comments (SHOUT OUT TO OOMF youre the best you keep me going :')) ). yes i know i shouldnt focus on the hit count or likes or etc but damn, sometimes when you put into effort into something you thought was good, it doesnt get a lot. but i swear if i make a chatfic and it gets way more than i expect- im a lost cause. LMAO

that's all, ill see you at 25:00!

[monitorchakas]

You know I gotta ask abt ya boi for the character ask thing. Any version of him Chakas or Spark.

Send Me a Character

You might have made a mistake I can't shut up about my boi, but im still glad you asked!!!!

Im going to indicate a tl:dr version in blue for each section

And I will tell you my:

First impression

So surprisingly even before Spark's backstory/redemption ark, I liked him. I like robots, loved Hal 9000, obsessed with Portal 1 and 2. As much as I love his new story that gives him more depth and emotions I actually loved the simple minded protocol following boi we first met.

Child me actually had a dream shortly after playing the library that I found a broken little spark he was split in those two circle pieces. I swear this happened which is weird because any normal person just has flood nightmares.

I legit would wear a Spark necklace to class 90% of people thought it was Wheatley. I definitely stalked his halopedia page for new content

Impression now

So lets start from Primordium. I already loved Chakas from Cryptum (I kept joking around with the line "Chakas when the walls fell" because was obsessed with tng at the time). I remember reading the preview first chapters while on vacation at my grandma's house because I couldn't wait for Jan 3 (which is 3 days before my bday btw). I remember being pissed that my boy was a monitor right at the beginning...

Halfway through the book I started suspecting Spark and Chakas had to be connected, specifically because Spark sounded a bit too much like Chakas when talking about the librarian in the halo cea terminals. I think its crazy well done how those two pieces of media are connected, and that halo 3 the ark cutscene "compartmentalization" connection to primordium is just very cool! Especially since bungie definitely never intended this, but because Spark's memories were compartmentalized for flood reasons, it works!

My obsession only has gotten worse with the more recent lore. I think Spark looks really cool! Especially in the newest book cover. I love who he's grown to become and I love the awesome new friends hes made despite of losing his past friends (him losing Riser(and vice versa)... must have hurt, those too were so close)

Favorite moment

Oh theres more than a few of these but Ill try to limit myself

This part made me laugh:

My favorite Chakas moments:

Riser Bornstellar and him together adventuring on Cryptum before all the horrors began.

Also his time with Vinnevra and Gamelpar, again before the horrors started....

My favorite Guilty Spark moments:

Sesa Refummees edification

Chief and Spark working together in Halo 3 especially in the Ark

My favorite Spark moments:

when they were on Myers Moon and Spark finally stopped brooding and sat on a rock trying to find the perfect moment to shoot the fish out of the water.

Spark training Little Bit 💕

Point of Lights ending scene 😭❤

Theres definitely more favorite parts...

Idea for a story

I think Spark and Motoko Kusanagi (ghost in the shell) should sit down and have a drink together, itd benefit Spark to meet a fellow ghost in the shell

Motoko: "oh you're a ghost too? Interesting body choice"

Spark: "not really my choice its the best I could find!!"

Motoko: "oh wow you lived as a human for quite a long time I was cyberized when I was 5"...

(Im not good at writing fan fiction, but yeah something like that)

Unpopular opinion

Spark/Chakas should be in Infinite

I know they removed him from the story but like why does known asshole Forthencho get a terminal and my boy Chakas doesn't? P l e a s e

Favorite relationship

Chakas and Vinnevra were very cute together shout out to both of them for blushing and denying when my boy Riser called them out

Speaking of which Chakas, Bornstellar, and Riser really were the three amigos

Guilty Spark's only relationship was his ring and thats ok!!

Im glad Spark became such good friends with the ace of spades crew. Specially with Rion.. When Rion and him held hands to confort each other

Favorite headcanon

Spark totally has a halo ring floatie for Myer's Moon 🤭

Anyway... thanks for the ask @hotdoghowitzer 💕💕💕💕💕💕

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void c5

@petrichormeraki bet you forgot I even had this fic ! Thank you again for the gift that is Whitelist AU, which feels like a lifetime ago (For Tommy it was !)

Chapter 1 Here

Last Chapter Here

Next Chapter Here

and AO3 Crossposted!

Ask to tag and give me a headsup on any typos ! c!Tubbo in my interpretation is they/them and blind.

The Hobbit Hole was more than Tommy expected. Birch-and-spruce windows poked out throughout the hillside, a round entrance carefully carved from the wood. Poking his head inside, the blond’s eyes darted across the spruce-built interior skeptically.

“..Thanks.” Tommy halfhartedly grumble, pulling his hand off the entrance. He warily stepped in, his hand resting on the doorway entrance for a moment as he investigated for potential traps.

“You’re..Sure we can just- stay here?” Tubbo asked once more, their head turned back towards the dirty blond stood aside the messy front garden.

“Of course, I swear, I don’t need another place to hoard stuff! Chances are, I’ll only be out here if I finally get around to moving my villagers out of their old setup.”  The older brit confirmed once more, his tone light. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Promise.”

Hesitantly nodding, Tubbo offered an appreciative smile his way before they turned back towards Tommy. “How’s it looking, then, Big Man?” They hummed, tilting their head.

“Fuckin’ cool as shit-” He glanced around, apprehensively surveying the ground for any traps.

“It needs a bit of cleanin’ up,” Stress chirped, sending a lighthearted glare towards Grian as he stuck out his tongue with a snicker. “We’d all be happy to help.” She finished, with a warm smile.

Tubbo politely nodded. “I think we’ll handle it. Thank you, again.” They ran their hand over the wooden arc in the entrance.

Grian shook his head. “Really, don’t worry about it. Stay here. Get settled. Either of us may be over to check up. Across the lake’s my neighbor, Scar, who you might see. But he shouldn’t come around here.” 

With a bit of exasperation, ready to be left alone, Tommy wordlessly nodded as he bounced his leg. 

Clearing his throat, Grian nodded. “Alright, then we’ll be out. We’ll see you two soon. Cya, Stress, thanks for the help!” He dipped his head towards the short brunette, who grinned bubbly back.

“See ya! Bye, loves.” Stress cooed, before deploying her glowing skeletal wings and ascending off with a quick poof of smoke.

Instinctively when the item had come to her hand, Tommy had thrown his arms around Tubbo’s ears- an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the sandy brunett man.

Grian simply put his hands up pacifying, as Tubbo was shrunk back curled, shielded away from where the brief poof was. “They’re duds, almost all fireworks here are duds.” He had calmly spoke, his tone soft. “I’ll come back to check up on you guys soon, ‘n make sure you have the supplies you need. You have free reign of that base!” Were his parting words, before he trotted off into the woodland.

Tommy uncurled himself from Tubbo. “You good, Bigman?” The blond tilted his head.

“Yeah,” Tubbo chuckled halfheartedly. “It doesn’t really.. Scare me it just- it startles me? Hearing it? ‘Cause I don’t really have time to prepare myself for the noise..Even if it’s not the same as- the kind from. Then.” Their voice wavered for a moment, before they took a shuttering breath. “Yeah, I’m fine, Man.”

“..Mhm..Alright.  Well, this set-up is better than just ‘bout half the shit on’ the SMP.” Tommy diverted the subject, sweeping his foot over the top of the floor, watching the small streak it left beneath a thin coat of dust.

Tubbo tilted their head. “Really? It smells..Very dusty-” They sneezed into their arm, sniffling. “I.. feel like it might need a bit of work, yeah?”

The blond boy shrugged. “Yeah.. We can see ‘bout gettin’ a towel wet or something and wiping all ths shit down?”

Humming in agreement, Tubbo felt around, listening to the words their Comm robotically had been reading off.

“I’ll see ‘bout findin’ shit. They’ve gotta have wool in some of these chests,”

With a bit of digging,  the two teens had gotten to work. Not everywhere in the practically abandoned place was dusty or dirty. A small lush crevice was fresh and clean- or, relatively so. Bright feathers had littered the area around it. A path from a window seal, which had been opened, and to said crevice was nearly spotless of debris outside of such molting feathers or a few leaves.

Now without dust on the outside, the two messed with the chests, rummaging through what could be found.

..Which was a lot. Just not in the places they had expected.

Out of the chests they had searched through, they managed to find almost a doublechest full of various stacked enchanted books-

“How..How did he just leave all of this here?” “Well, he has enough he defenitely won’t notice a few gone!”

A totem of undying in a michalanious chest-

“Woah.. WHAT THE SHIT..” “Dude… This is.. A gamechanger”

A golden apple held by an item frame-

“Finders keepers! This counts, its on a chest.” “Sick!”

Bafflingly, a diamond in the food chest-

“What the actual shit. WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT-” “What? W- WHAT? WHY?”

Two enchanted, nearly broken bows with enchants- “Better than nothing, I’ll see about combinin’ them unless you feel like pinnin’ the tail on the donkey.” “..Sounds like a good plan, yah.”

And in the middle of the room, a chest with an enchanted diamond axe-

“..Fuck. Wow- There’s just a wholeass enchanted axe! What the fuck is the point of the itemframes if theres no system here?”

“Whats it enchanted with..?” “..Fortune? What a waste. Uhh, some efficiency, too.”

There wasnt much in the main storage room, but they werent quite willing to push their luck and explore too far. At least not until they got some food and set up some sort of gameplan.

The two teens distributed some of the loot they scavanged, damaged iron armor going to Tommy, a shovel to Tubbo and a spare shovel to Tommy, The totem of undying to Tubbo, and the two diamonds they scavenged turned into a diamond sword for Tubbo as well, with the axe and golden apple going to Tommy.

They turned their focus to food. The two sat beneath the support pillars against the walls, taking the time to eat  a handful of watermelon slices.

The wall of chests ahead of them had been broken, exposing the opened window with feathers trailing from it. It was an oddly live scene in the otherwise abandoned wooden hole.

Neither of them quite enjoyed the feeling of being holed in, or the small nature of the wall-home. Nor did either teen mention it.

Tommy explained the varying entrance ways from the mainroom. They had decided on splitting up soon, letting Tubbo find a place to dig out a room for the two of them, with Tommy going off and rummaging through more chests.

Tubbo found a dead-end room beneath a spruce-log room on the second story, and had begun trying to carve it out, as the other teen worked through more and more chests.

The blond eventually worked his way outside and into yard infront of the entrance, rummaging his way through the bits and pieces- the best so far, being another golden apple which he happily held onto.

Half way through his second chest, something caught his attention- or, more like, he caught something’s attention.

A blue, yellow-cheeked bird had fluttered around him, its head quirked curiously as it stared him down. Tommy shrinked.

“What the fuck do you want?” He squinted at the parrot as it lowered itself down onto the top of the open chest, hopping along the edge.

“F⚍ᓵꖌ!” The bird cooed in responded incoherently, chirping at him.

Tommy paused, eyes lighting up in realization. “Oi! You’re the one that flies into the house, huh?” 

In response, it turned it’s head away, nodding. “Hobbit!” It shrilled.

As Tommy had opened his mouth to respond, the hobbit himself, Grian, had flown down, sweeping down with a soft thud.

“Sorry! Uh, Professor Beak has a little spot in there. He likes to go n stay there most days, its a lot cozier than the mansion,” The older Brit chuckled apologetically, putting out his hand for the parrot. 

The blond boy snorted. “‘Professor Beak?’” He’d raise a brow.

The named bird chirped, stepping onto Grian’s wrist without hesitation. “Professor Ellen Taurtis Beak!” It cooed, its voice mimicking that of Grian himself.

It was… A strange display, to be sure.

Sheepishly, Grian hummed, running his spare hand through the bird’s feathers. “They may try ‘n break back in, they’re a pesky bird like that. I’m sorry for bothering you, though. You two doing good?”

“..Hm,,Yeah, thanks. Are you..Like, fuckin’ aware of all the stuff you’re leavin’?” Tommy eyed the strange man, folding his arms.

Grian merely gave a shrug. “Not really? But that just means they’re nothing important. If they help you both get started, they’re yours.”

Huh. Well, that was easy enough.

“..Right. Cool. Bye.” Tommy watched the man, as he easily nodded, striding off with his bird held by his chest.

The blond let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“..This place is fucking weird.”

[daydream-believin]

Never-Ending Roadtrip (Autumn in New York, pt 1)

Summary: (ch 1)  (ch 10) Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - chapter 9) new york tourism and some relaxation for a stressed-out emo wizard

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol mention, implied nudity (just a bath)

Word Count: 3542

A/n: Go listen to ‘autumn in new york’ by ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong to set the mood for this chapter and the next lol. i do like lovecore i promise. also this was going to be it but ive split it up. enjoy

Douxie was very careful to take inventory. One head, two head, dragon head, his own head. All accounted for. Four heads, no more no less. Not even a pesky stowaway gnome. His family was together. Up in the air, on the ship, winding blowing through their hair. Douxie could see sky scrapers on the horizon.

The trolls had been cordial in their goodbyes, but made no effort in giving the impression that they wanted the wizard family to stay any longer than they had. In fact, it was discouraged if not outright. The trolls almost gave off an aura of relief when they faded from view of the settlement. But that was understandable. Douxie’s family had caused a bit of trouble during their stay.

Bagdwella was certain that Archie was a bad omen for her shop and would freak out whenever he tried to enter. Y/n had been a bit confused and tried to explain to her that black cats were in fact supposed to bring wealth, not financial ruin, but apparently Bagdwella had been thinking of an old trollish superstition about dragons instead. Y/n had no counter to that.

Nari had no real knowledge of how money worked, and was determined to make that Douxie’s problem. And the problem of all the trolls in the shops of the town. There was a bit of a problem with her “dining and dashing” in the pub, the one troll eatery in the still developing town. Poor thing had no idea food costs money. Someone had always been around to feed her. Douxie and Y/n almost couldn’t keep up with the demand of sweaty socks they had to produce in order to pay the annoyed barman. Turns out it was somewhat hard to make sweaty socks when you’re actually trying to. It was like their feet realized what was happening and couldn’t pass up an attempt to make their owner’s lives harder.

As much as dear Y/n prided herself on being tolerant, she and Dictatious were going round and round. It was easier to ignore the guy when she didn’t have to live in close quarters with him but that luxury was lost on this stay in Trollmarket. Y/n and Dic argued every time they were in close proximity. She couldn’t help it. The old troll had opinions, and those opinions were wrong. And don’t even get Y/n started on how sad and then angry he made Blinky feel with the whole dead, wait not dead just an evil traitor, wait now he’s okay somewhat, thing. And his personality was shit. Peace was never an option.

Needless to say the trolls were in fact happy to send off the wizards. Douxie was happy to no longer suddenly hear a clatter and then instantly get a headache knowing it was probably one of his problems. They had only been in Trollmarket a few days. Okay so a week, they had stayed there a week. It was only seven days. Eight actually. So to say, they hadn’t been there long enough to cause any real problems. And now they were headed to New York. New York New York.

Douxie was ready to get some quality romance in with his wife. Autumn in New York was perfect for that. The city streets glowed with life. A nice stroll down the sidewalks painted in golden light, arm in arm, carrying the warmth in their hearts and bodies with them, was just what they needed. There were lots of sights to see, and Y/n loved to see them. And it was heavily populated, which would make it safer. Safe was something greatly needed.

For some reason, ever since that one night in the forest, Doux had felt like watching his back. It was tiresome, always being on edge. Of course, he had been this whole trip. But recently it had been amplified. Douxie didn’t know if he was sensing the Order’s presence or if being wed had turned up his protective instincts up to an eleven, but it really would be fantastic to be in a safer environment. He was crossing his fingers New York was one.

Just outside of city limits, the boat was shrunken into a little toy and placed back inside of it’s bottle. The little bottle fit neatly in the backpack that Y/n was wearing. Everything fit neatly into the backpack that Y/n was wearing. It was charmed. Doux would rather it be in hers than his, just as a peace of mind. A quick getaway for her lest they ever be separated. He wasn’t too worried about himself. Nari clung to her side, so it would also be best to keep it with her in order to protect Nari. Yeah, that was totally the reason.

They hailed a cabbie and took it into the bustling city. Douxie had pulled a couple strings with his old buddies, and managed to get them an apartment to stay in. The owner wouldn’t be back for a few weeks, and was happy to have someone to house sit for her. Douxie was happy to have a roof over his family’s head he didn’t have to pay for. It was a win-win.

Y/n never stopped looking out the window the entire cab ride. Douxie thought her excitement was adorable. She had her arm stretched over Nari in the middle to be able to hold his hand. The veggie lady didn’t mind. She was also focused on the view out the windows, fascinated by the sheer number of cars and the heights of the tall buildings. Douxie could feel Y/n’s wedding ring as she squeezed his hand. It helped calm him.

This apartment was owned by a starlet. It was huge, for New York standards. It was really high up, which made Douxie a wee bit nervous. Eleventh floor. It was eccentrically decorated, with bright colors. There was a wall in the living space that was a floor-to-ceiling window, covered by pale pink curtains and strings of heart-shaped beads. The other walls had a wallpaper that was white with red rose motifs. The couch was bright cherry red, furry, and oddly shaped. The kitchen cabinets were painted hot pink, with frosted glass doors that bore a rose pattern. The refrigerator was also cherry red, with white and pink heart-shaped stickers stuck onto it. Everything was fucking red, white, or pink. It looked like Saint Valentine himself threw up. Douxie was afraid to see what the bedroom looked like.

Douxie checked the fridge. Yeah, it was empty, apart from the box of takeaway from who knows when and the three bottles of wine. To be expected, of a single young up-and-comer, one supposes. They would have to go get groceries. Archie was making biscuits on the fluffy surface of the couch. It was probably very soft, Douxie had yet to touch it himself. He was kind of afraid of it, to be honest. Nari seemed to also like it, and was spread out on the top, limbs hanging over the back of the couch. Y/n opened the curtains a bit and was staring out the window. Doux headed for the bedroom, to go see what they were working with.

The bedroom was not in any way tamer than the open living space, but at least it wasn’t as bad as Douxie was expecting with the ah, love theme this place had going. It could have been worse. It was fluffy, pink, and glittery, but at least it was rated PG. Apart from the heart-shaped bed, it looked like it could have been a dressing room. There was a vanity with lights ringing the mirror and one of those dressing screens in the corner with several feather boas hanging over it like some kind of cliché movie set. Douxie was setting his backpack down, as he sat on the side of the bed turned away from the door, when he heard someone go into the en suite. And then he heard various noises of,, happy surprise? Sounded like Y/n.

“DEWDROP! THERES A HEART-SHAPED TUB. A FUCKING HEART-SHAPED TUB. COME LOOK.”

Bleeding balroths. Douxie rolled his eyes as he stood up from the comfy feather mattress to go see what she was shouting at him about. The tiles that covered the bathroom were annoyingly pink. The air smelled like something he could only describe as pink. Sure enough, there was a heart-shaped tub like someone’s cheesy honeymoon suite, and his wife was already in it, despite it not having any water. She wore an all too familiar cheshire cat grin on her face. He had one word for this.

“No.”

“Whatever.” Y/n stuck her tongue out childishly. “You’ll change your mind tonight. You will join me in the incredibly fragrant heart-shaped bubble bath, Dewdrop. Mark my words.”

~ ~ ~ As a first stop on the itinerary, they decided on Central park. Some greenery for Nari. And for Y/n too. Trees were good for the soul and one should never spend too much time on concrete. Gave Archie something to scratch that was not the couch that they did not own. It was fine when he did it in Arcadia, their sofa was old and tattered anyways, but not here in the apartment they were housesitting.

Y/n claimed the walk through nature was necessary to restore the energy lost on the trip into the city. The walkways were paved, and Douxie had to really keep an eye on both Nari and Y/n, who should know better, from wandering off the path. Maybe he should get two baby leashes when they were to shop later. Occasionally they would pass by a café. Douxie was glad he was not working in one of those. This trip was a much-needed vacation, as stressful as it was.

A little ways in and they came across a pond, with a cute little bridge that the walkway went under. Douxie rubbed his hand over the stones as they walked through. It was worn, as many hands had also done so over the decades. This bridge, as old as the park itself, was still younger than him. And it had met so many more people than he could even fathom. Doux himself had met so many people over the years. He had been touched by many too, like this little bridge. And just like the people who touched this bridge, none of them quite knew the impact they would be leaving. What they were wearing down. He heard a happy squeal as Y/n and Nari made a sudden sprint ahead of him. Apparently, there were ducks in this pond.

The Met was just a few minutes’ walk from where they exited the park. Douxie was happy with the idea of a quiet art museum trip, that sounded peaceful and relaxing. He needed all the peaceful and relaxing he could get right now. Y/n was actually really excited about this one despite it being not that exciting of an activity. She was trying to psych up Nari. “It’ll be fun, we can pretend we’re a gang of art thieves and we’re doing recon for a heist.” The veggie lady had no idea what any of those words meant.

There were lots of paintings in the Met gallery. It contained multitudes. One painting, they passed as they walked down the corridors, Y/n stopped, transfixed, stared at the painting for a few minutes, and then carried on like nothing happened. She didn’t look particularly sad, or happy, just confused, like she was processing something. Douxie made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Next stop was a walk down Fifth Avenue. It’s not like they could afford to shop, but it was a must-do in NYC so they must-did. They walked holding hands with Nari in the middle like their child. She liked looking in all the window displays. Every so often she would stop to stare and they would tug her along. The trees lining the sidewalks presented their autumn colors. The oranges and golds gave the streets a cheery vibe.

They passed a few food trucks. The trucks were filling the air with various delicious aromas. Douxie’s stomach growled loudly. Y/n giggled and suggested they pick a truck for lunch. Douxie had his eye on a fish and chips truck. It didn’t make ‘em quite like you could get in London but it was trying. A for effort. Y/n thought it was fantastic. Douxie was just spoiled.

They made their way over to the Rockefeller Center, just around the corner. A short walk and Y/n had spotted a coffee shop. So now they were going to a coffee shop. Douxie couldn’t help it, she looked at him with such big eyes. What was he supposed to do, say no?

The coffee shop was warm, and much appreciated relief from the autumn chill that had taken over. And a nice warm drink was sorely needed. Y/n found a nice couch in the back of the shop. Douxie sunk in, deeper than he expected to be able to sink in, but it was an old couch sunk into by many people. It was cozy. The love of thousands made it the sofa the way that it was. Love had made it squishy, love had made it comfy. Speaking of love and squishy and comfy, Doux pulled his dear wife Y/n to his side in an embrace. Low-key cuddling on the coffee shop couch was the best part of Douxie’s day. Nice, relaxing, he needed this. He pressed a kiss to the top of Y/n’s hair.

The Top of the Rock is an observatory deck in Rockefeller Center. Very high up in the air, one can see a great view of the city skyline and get a peek at that famous empire state building. Archie didn’t really care about it, he could get aerial sights any time he wanted, so he took this time to take a nap. Y/n leaned close to the glass, amazed and getting slightly wooed by the city. Douxie slung his arm around her, and, under the guise of affection, pulled her a few steps back. She really was hell-bent on stopping his fragile heart. And then Nari just straight up put her hands, paws, on the glass and put her body weight on the window. Nope. Douxie made sure to ask her to step away from the glass nicely, lest he frighten her, but still tried to convey that what she was doing was something he saw as dangerous and it worried him. Doux was very happy when they were back on the ground.

Douxie liked people watching. So did Y/n. It was one of the things the used to do on weekends in Arcadia, strangely enough. It wasn’t weird. All those people, they all had lives of their own. They all had stories they were living, and it was interesting to glimpse just a small insignificant piece of it. Or sometimes even significant. It was always hard to tell as an outsider, whether or not an ordinary moment was really the turning point of someone’s life. NYC’s famous Times Square was perfect for people watching.

There was something odd about it. The square itself felt wrong. A hundred neon advertisements all at one time. Not an inch of surface didn’t bare the name of a brand. There was something profoundly sad about it. One might even go as far as say disgusting. And there were many, many signs and people. Douxie tried not to attempt to take it all in at once, lest he risk sensory overload. The sun had already set, the brightly lit signs were brighter than ever. There were so many people around them. There were some buskers, some even playing at the same time, so the music clashed. Perhaps there was too much life here. It was loud, and Doux liked loud, but he liked harmonious loud, like music and excitement, not the chaotic loud that surrounded him. He made sure he could see Nari, that she was close to them. Douxie squeezed Y/n’s hand. He thought maybe he should just pay attention to her, tune out everything else. The lights made a brilliant halo around her gorgeous face as she turned to him. The beautiful goddess he called his wife’s eyes searched his, and she noticed he was not so comfy.

“C’mon, let’s go get some dinner.”

They walked away from the square for a few minutes, putting some distance between them and it’s light, before coming across a pizza place for dinner. It was good. The classic, New York slice. And it was pizza. Y/n would admit, it wasn’t special. She actually liked the pizza from the local pizza place in Arcadia Oaks way better. Douxie and Archie agreed with her. But don’t tell any New Yorker’s that. The main thing is that they got a nice dinner, and it helped Douxie calm down. There were only a few other people in the restaurant. The booth they were in was off to the side, away from everything. Y/n stroked Douxie’s palm with her thumb. Archie sat in his lap and purred. He appreciated them.

They’d had a long day. It was best to get home. Once opening up the cherry red door the valentine’s day décor assaulted their eyes once again. This would be okay for the time being but Douxie had no idea how someone could dwell here full time. As he plopped down on the furry couch, he noticed for the first time the numerous little cherub figurines that littered every available surface. It might be interesting to meet this starlet one day. She seemed to have a cupid schtick going. She probably looked the part too.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Y/n had made a sneaky beeline for the bathroom and that honeymoon suite style tub. Douxie rolled his eyes fondly and scoffed from his place on the sofa when he heard the water turn on. Of course. He supposed he could use some extra relaxing. But she’d feel like she won. Y/n was gonna make a big deal out of this, he could feel it.

Miss starlet had an unhealthy amount of soap bottles filling the storage space in the bathroom. A dragon hoard of fancy scented soaps. As fun as pouring some various vividly colored, strong and flowery goops into the tub and pretending it was a potion would be, and it would be, Y/n opted to find some more calming aromas for poor Doux. Lavender, lemongrass, and jasmine, were what she was on the hunt for. She managed to find both lavender and jasmine soaps, and a lavender candle. No lemongrass. But Y/n wouldn’t have held her breath on that one. It wasn’t exactly glamorous or glittery.

With the water hot, bubbles high, candles lit, Y/n had crafted a very romantic and relaxing evening. She stood back to admire her work for a moment before going to go get Douxie. He was laying across the couch, using his crossed arms as a pillow, with Archie snoozing on his chest, when she found him.

“Sorry Arch. Find a different pillow for the night?” The dragon-cat understood. That didn’t stop him from throwing a look at the two as he settled back down into the couch’s fluff.

Ignoring Archie, Y/n took Douxie by the hand as she led him back into the room she had set up. The air smelled very strongly of lavender. The pink of the tiles was muted in the dim light, which Douxie was thankful for. Then he noticed the giant fucking mountain of bubbles Y/n had turned the bath into. He supposed she wanted him to get in that. Somehow. They’d have to be careful not to accidentally choke on any bubbles.

Douxie let out a little groan as he slid into the bath. The hot water felt great on his tense muscles, he had to admit. He was feeling better, and more relaxed. He certainly wasn’t anywhere near as stressed as he was in time square anymore, but the tension of this strange combination vacation/flee-for-their-lives-trip was taking its toll on the master wizard. He wouldn’t put it past his hair to start greying soon. A wizard was only ever as old as they felt, after all. And boy, did Douxie’s bones feel old. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. No worries right now. He was safe, Nari was safe, Archie was safe, Y/n was safe. Y/n was right beside him, so extra safe too.

“So, how’s it going.” Y/n laughed at Douxie getting a little lost in the hot water sauce.

“Nuclear.” Douxie opened his eyes to take in his wife’s pretty face he just knew was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. Doux pulled Y/n into his embrace and against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks. I- I guess I sort of maybe needed this.”

Y/n snickered. “Of course you did. Remember, I’ll always be here to take care of you.” She brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles. “Always, Mr. Casperan.”

“And that goes the same for you, I’ll always take care of you, Mrs. Casperan.”

[inosukeslefttoe]

girl.... omg.... this game rlly means it when it says itll show me the ultimate despair....

so my first fav character was sayaka right,,, and then it was mondo,,, WHICH ISNT TOO GREAT FOR ME LMAO ALL MY FRIENDS HAVE SUCH TRAGIC FATES THIS GAME IS FULL OF TRAGEDY BUT ITS SO FUCKING WELL DONE AND IM EVEN MORE OBSESSED NOW (was low key scared id actually get depressed bc of this since i tend to get rlly attached to things like this,, and yeah i miss mondo like hell but ITS IN SUCH AN EXHILARATING WAY YKNOW AND I CANT WAIT TO KEEP PLAYING THE GAME)

but lmao i just wanna scream about all the little things that made this part of the game even more tragic,,, so first of all is like,, how similar mondo and chihiro are right ?? like at first you see them and ur like “wow these two are lowkey polar opposites bc mondo big tough violent outspoken scary man while chihiro is tiny passive inferiority complex timid man” but after hearing both of their stories, you can tell that they both suffer from the same things and have the same goal. they both have terrible inferiority complexes, they just deal with them differently: chihiro kinda gave into it and ran away from it by deciding to hide his true self behind something he saw as “weaker” than him and letting that become a part of his identity out of fear that he was too weak to try and change/fight it. Mondo on the other hand overcompensated big time for it and became the ultimate manly man when inside he felt nothing but weak and guilt. also like,, a few times mondo mentioned that hes rlly bad with emotions right and he handles them through anger and violence so,,, this means that whenever he has these negative feelings towards himself he has no healthy way to let them out and just keeps pushing them down and trying to maintin this facade of a strong man and never letting anyone know that hes “weak” but this just ends up as a big ball of negativity and adds to his “weakness”...and like... bro chihiro and mondo couldve grown so much stronger together bc they suffer from the same things but could learn how to deal with it better together and balance each other out.... but mondo acted so quickly and violently and did something he couldnt undo which just added to his self hatred and YKNOW ALSO KILLED THE MOST PURE HEARTED STRONGEST PERSON IN HERE BUT AT THE SAME TIME MAKES IT HARD FOR YOU TO BLAME MONDO AND HATE HIM FOR IT BUT UGH THERES JUST SO MANY LAYERS AND ITS SO EMOTIONAL

next.... as you can tell by the gif.... IS MONDOS RELATIONSHIP WITH TAKA... ill prolly make a post screaming abt how much i love them later lmao but like... god what hurt the most for me personally during this bit wasnt that my favorite boy died/had a whole tragic story.... but that his best friend had to go through such betrayal and such loss. like... not only did taka have to see this side of mondo that mondo was desperately trying to hide and find out that his best friend had broken everything he stood for and yknow,,, feel the ultimate sense of betrayal, but he also had to see his best friend brutally killed in front of him. like,, holy shit man mondo was straight up confessing but taka... TAKA REFUSED TO BELIEVE IT AFTER ALL THIS EVIDENCE AND THAT HIT SO MUCH HARDER THAN LEONS DEATH AND THE LIL RHYTHM MINI GAME THING bc in leons case he was like “it was self defense !! i had to !! its not my fault !!” after murdering someone,, but in this case,,,, mondo admitted to it but it was his Bro who refused to accept it and was fighting tooth and nail to save his best friend. AND LIKE,, TAKA IS THE ULT MORAL COMPASS RIGHT ?? AND HE STRAIGHT UP HAD TO KNOW IT WAS MONDO,, AND THAT BREAKS LITERALLY EVERY RULE ON ANY MORAL COMPASS,,, BUT TAKA STILL FOUGHT FOR HIM WITH EVERYTHING HE HAD..... also i noticed taka cursing and that seemed so ooc but so utterly heartbreaking.... and i love how they added extra drama in the game by having the va violently scream in agony for taka like.... talk about despair lmao. omg and my brother is watching the anime right and he was like lol you should watch the scene from it too if you wanna be more sad.... AND OH GOD HE WAS RIGHT... the fact that taka resorted to some violence by grabbing mondo aggressively and shaking him and yelling ... and the fact that he was like “why did you kill him make me understand” kinda thing and mondo couldnt even look at taka or say anything.... BUT EVEN WITH THAT,,, TAKA STILL COULDNT BEAR HIS FRIEND BEING KILLED AND BEGGED MONOKUMA TO KILL H I M INSTEAD ??? GOD MY HEART CANT FUCKING HANDLE THAT. LIKE THAT BOND THEY HAVE BRO AND HOW MONDO SEVERED IT AND HOW TAKA WAS NOT GONNA LET IT BE BROKEN THAT EASILY AND HHHHHH IM . SO . SAD. but seriously... that was a whole new level of despair imo for this game to add such a beautiful relationship between these two and have it end so tragically by taka, the moral compass, dropping his morals and refusing to see the facts in front of him and still ready to die for his bro.... also the whole “make me understand” line kinda just... he couldnt even condemn mondo for it, he wanted to know his reasonings so he could know that his friend wasnt a bad guy and couldnt die yknow...

HAHA I GOT ALL SAD AGAIN WRITING THIS DUDE BUT ITS JUST SO GOOD HOW COULD I NOT MAKE A POST YOU FEEL ?? im so hyped to start chapter three tomorrow but i swear if it gets any sadder it might actually affect my mood and ill have to take a break... but i think that the death of my fav + the relationship doomed to despair is quite a high level to beat for me personally since i always find things to be more sorrowful when it has anything to do with human connections like that lmao

1/2/21

[mtherhino]

One side, Two lives

Chapter nine

Nothing but a bad memory

First Previous Next

Warnings: swearing and eating disorder

Roman had woken up feeling awful and tired. He looked over at his clock and saw that it was three am. He had went to sleep at midnight.

Get up already you piece of shit. Roman sighed heavily. The voice practically never left him alone at this point.

           Roman was a pretty tolerant person. He put up with a lot even though he didn’t think he it. So the fact that he was actually annoyed and angry at this voice spoke volumes.

You know you’re a real fucking jackass sometime. Roman said as he got out of bed and headed towards his closet.

Well theres no way I could be worse than you, though that isn’t a very high bar is it? Roman paused as he was grabbing his jacket, not being able to say anything in response.

No witty retort for that huh? That’s because you know its true.

“Shut up” Roman growled to the darkness. This had become an unpleasant routine for the light side. Wake up, be insulted, pretend to eat, work on projects, workout till he felt like he might break, and then work on his projects again until he passes out. Then repeat the next day.

           Roman took a deep breath to calm himself down, he knew listening to voice wasn’t helpful for others so he tried his best not to listen. Though it did get hard when he agreed with it.

Enough talking, since I’m up early I might as well get things done. Roman though as he finished getting ready for the day and went over to his desk. He already had the next three videos planed out and scripted so he didn’t have much assigned work to do. Never the less he still pulled out his laptop and started typing out ideas that could work.  

           * time skip

Roman sighed and leaned back in his chair. He just finished writing out the next video, all he had to do now is finish putting the script together. He got up to stretch and checked the time. He was a bit surprise to see it was already nine am.

“Shit, I didn’t think it would take me that long.” The prince cursed to himself.

This is why you have to wake up early. Sleeping is a waste of time since you clearly don’t have the skill it takes to get your work done like a normal person. The voice said inside his head.

“Ya I guess you have a point.” Roman said as he brushed some of the stray hairs out of his face. His stomach growled which kinda surprised him. Geez how long has it been since I last ate? Roman tried to think and realize he hadn’t eaten in three days. Well shit, guess I have to eat today.

Technically you don’t have too. The voice said in a cruel tone. Roman rolled his eyes. I don’t want to but if I don’t I’ll pass out and I need to finish this script. The voice grumbled and that was as close as it ever came to agreeing with Roman.  

           The creative side walked out of his room and down the stairs. He didn’t hear anyone else up so he didn’t bother to shape shift yet. He walked into the still dark kitchen and went to grab an apple from a boll on the counter. Kinda odd that Patton isn’t up yet. Maybe he’s taking a second chill day or something. Roman thought to himself.

           He looked down at the apple in his hand and his face twisted in disgust. The idea of eating, it was just, not fun. It’s hard to explain. He felt like he was going to eat poison instead of normal food. Like eating would cause him some sort of disease. It’s just an apple, come on Roman. The creative side took a bite of the apple and chewed. Dammit why must this be so hard.

The prince somehow finished the apple and threw away the pit. He went back to his room and went over to his mirror. He had been rather cautious with going into the imagination ever since the voice had come back. It always got so much louder there that Roman had a hard time remembering that the voice was in his mind and not a person talking right next to him. Roman shook his head and walked through the door. Today the imagination was a bit cloudier but the prince simply smiled at the dark clouds. Unlike most he never saw rain as a bad thing like most people did. To him the rain was calm and beautiful, something that kept the plants and animals alive.

The prince started off towards a shoreline he and his brother had made when they where younger. Right next to the water sat a large cliff and today Roman’s goal was to climb it. It made for a good workout and the danger of it all was just fun to the princely character. Once he finishes his short jog the shore he looked up at the might mountain cliff. It was hard to quite see the top from his point of view and it made the creative side smile at the challenge.

           The adventurer started his climb, summoning some gloves and sneakers to make it ever so slightly easier. He was already in a more adventuresome outfit, jeans and an old shirt and jacket, but he had a certain pair of sneakers that where specifically for this. He started his way up (not using a rope but meh, who needs them) and was making decent time, especially considering his lack of sleep and food recently.

When he was half way up he looked out at the view before him. The early morning sun was shining through the clouds and onto the water making it sparkle, the wind carrying the smell of the sea. Roman smiled, he used to come here a lot when he and his brother where younger, it was one of the first places they had made.

 The memories where nice until they reach a certain point. Roman grimaced slightly, he didn’t like to think back to what happened, but the voice had brought those thoughts back to the fore front of his mind. He’s just a voice now, calm down. Roman told himself and tried to refocus on his task at hand.

Keep telling yourself that. The voice said, nearly making the prince loose his grip. He had been so lost in thought that he forgot the voice could hear everything he was thinking.

           Shut up. You’re nothing but a bad memory at this point, you have no power over me. Roman practically growled in his mind as he started to climb faster.

Do you really think that? Roman didn’t respond but kept climbing. Because he wasn’t sure. Ever since the voice had re appeared the red side had felt a feeling of dread. He didn’t like to think about the feeling too much, summing it up the feeling to unpleasant memories coming back. He shook his head and looked up, he was getting close to the top of the cliff at this point which put a small bit of ease into the prince’s mind.

           Roman was pretty tired when he finally pulled himself up to the top of the cliff. Not eating enough was starting to catch up to him and the thought made said side scowl. He sat up a little and looked around. The top of the cliff was covered in green grass that swayed in the wind and the tree line was only a few meters away. In total in was a rather lovely and calm place to be.

Maybe one of these days I’ll take Virgil here, I bet he would love the fireflies that come out at night.Roman smiled a bit at that thought, and looked up at the slightly stormy clouds. It looked like it would rain any minute and the creative side was glad he had finished his climb before that happened.

            He laid down on his back and tried to catch his breath, he was more tired than he thoughts he would be. As he looked behind him he saw a mountain in the distance and looked away. He absolutely hated that place even though he was the one who made it. That was the last place he had seen- just before he could finish the that thought a drop of rain fell on his nose.

A light rain started so the prince decided it was time to head back. He walked back to his door that was part of an ancient looking tree that was on the edge of the meadow. The entire way there the voice chastised the red side about being tired and not being strong enough. By the time Roman was back in his room his self esteem was extremely low. He changed into a pair of jeans and a comfy T-shirt and threw his now soaked outfit into a corner.

He wanted to throw himself onto his bed however sadly he knew he had work to do; but first he had to change his bandages.

His ribs were pretty much healed at this point so Roman hadn’t seen a problem with doing a bit of adventuring. He saw that it was 12 at this point and it felt like his day was dragging on forever. The prince sighed and went over to look at the work on his desk. The video he was working on was pretty simple, just Thomas having fun with his friends doing a few different challenges that have to do with musicals. He figured that he could give himself a little break and went to go get water for him and Alexander. He was certain that the others would be up at this point so he shapeshifter just a bit and made his clothes look a little bit nicer.

Man I’m using up a lot of energy today with summoning. Roman thought as he sighed and fixed his hair just a bit. He straitened his posture and strolled into the room unsurprised to see Logan writing something down at the table.

“Hey specks, what do you think of todays fine morning?” The princely character said with a faked smile. He grabbed two glasses of water and went to sit at the table. The logical side responded without even looking up from his work.

“Not bad, I was able to finish up my work pretty early so I decided to start on some of my own projects.”  A small smile was on the logical side’s face which made the prince curios. So he stood up and looked at the notebook in hand and saw a familiar creature drawn onto the page.

“How do you know about zip lions?” The creative side asked, clear confusion written on his face. Logan finally looked up.

“A zip lion?”  Roman nodded

“That’s what your drawing isn’t it? That’s clearly a drawing of Suzan, only her main looks like that.” Roman said tapping the part of the drawing that had a very fluffy main.

“So that’s what they’re  called.” Logan said looking back at his drawing. “Suzan was very nice by the way.” Roman went to go sit back in his chair.

“Yah but how do you even know her?” The logical side shrugged.

“Remus took me to the imagination yesterday.” Romans eyes went wide and he could never let up the opportunity to tease people.

“Wow didn’t know you and Remus went on a date.” Roman said with a smirk. Logan’s face turned bright red as he looked up from his notebook. He struggled to find anything to say. It was pretty funny to watch, the same Logan who almost always had something to say was speechless and that was quite the accomplishment in Roman’s book.

“Calm down I was just messing with you.” Roman said. He liked messing with his friends but he didn’t want to ruin Remus’s chances with the nerd. Logan re adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“Well it most certainly wasn’t a date but it was nice. Your brother is quite the interesting person Roman.” Logan said with a soft smile. Roman smiled. He definitely has a crush on Remus. Of course instead of saying that the prince faked gaged.

“Hearing complements about my brother is killing me.” Logan rolled his eyes. The prince got up and stretched, though it did hurt his side a bit.

“Well, I have script to finish. Bye specks.” Logan nodded to him and Roman went back to his room. He gave the water to Alexander and the fly trap gave a sound similar to purring. The creative side smiled and petted the plant’s head a few times before going over to his desk. He finished up his work relatively quickly and putt his materials away. He didn’t have much else to do so he decided that he would just watch some Disney shows.

           After selecting Gravity Falls the creative side jumped into his bed and wrapped himself in a blanket. Since the day had been rather stressful he decided that he would try to relax before Patton called them all to get dinner. As the prince fell asleep the voice started to think. He absolutely hated Roman but he needed him for the mean time to make his plan work. Just you wait Roman, one day, you’ll be the one that’s nothing but a bad memory.

That took a while to write. Anyways I hope you’re all thoroughly worried for the future. It’s a lot of fun to make scenes creepy and stuff. Well, that all for now humans, have a good day, bye!

Tag list:

@lovelivingmydreams

[hampterguts]

Wait crybaby got everything wrong? It's the only devilman media I've interacted with, and I only watched it bc an animator I like worked on it. And even now I feel like vomiting when I think about it bc it just fucked me up dude. The whole thing felt like the sole purpose was to shock the audience with emotional, psychological, physical, and sexual violence D:

👉👈🥺 what is...the good devilman media?

wwjhd aaaaa oh man im so sorry you had to experience all that!! i know how you feel!! it was so awful and gut wrenching i had to stop watching 😖

im really particular abt what the best version of devilman is, there's quite a lot of iterations out there with varying amounts of gore and genuine awfulness

imo The Best form to consume devilman is the original manga(from the 70s),

im not even completely sure what to say, its basically one of the best horror mangas ive ever read, features two girlbosses, its got a few accidentally really funny scenes, honestly it plays with emotions really well, there are scenes that are intended to shock you but i feel like theyre handled really well as dramatic plot points, like i think reading this was the first time i felt so much connection and dread thru any media that i could feel my entire heart drop in reaction to only a single panel. the gore isn't intensely graphic overall, there are a few scenes I'd consider fairly grotesque, but this is from memory so im not sure how accurate i am abt that..... tw for child death, body horror, im not sure if they did this in crybaby too but there's mild transphobia due to assigning certain genitalia to sexual orientation(tho i recently found out that was go nagai's only choice in order to get past censorship and include a gay character,,, so 🙄 idk. i think he did what he had to and what he had to do wasnt alright), tw for animal death, like brutal depiction of dead animals near the beginning, there's lots of nudity, lots of boobs... sorry its been a while, my tw list probably isnt as precise as I'd like it to be, but from my memory there's no sexual assault whatsoever, barely any direct references to having sex either(unlike crybaby)

and i gotta warn you about a version called "the classic collection" for the manga. its supposed to be 2 large books that feature the compiled full story, but wow i regret having purchased these at all go nagai added some really disgusting things(sexual assault, short comic literally depicting sympathy towards hitler[specifically a guy gets abused by a demon and a woman he loves is killed and the comic does a whole "and that man that u just sympathized with... that was hitler" like.... okay actually i am going to attack go nagai to death] like he did this short series abt real terrible people in history where the "reason" they were so villainous was "actually bc of demons uwu". AWFULLL.) like! be careful not to purchase these and then take too long to read them to get to these weird hyper fucked up additions placed randomly within the books and become unable to return them ;_;

and then there's the 2 ova's from 1987-1990, called Devilman: The Birth, and Devilman: The Demon Bird

these two are usually paired together, you can find them uploaded on youtube every once in a while, the dub is. well in a technical sense it should be considered awful but i personally think the ridiculousness and constant unnecessary swearing really fits. its considered the best anime adaptation but there's only 2 episodes, theyre long enough to cover a chapter each but.... man if only they finished. i should also warn there's some heavy violence in these. like its not *as* bad as other iterations of devilman but like.... its worse than the manga by far, and there's one second of violence that always makes me flinch in the first ova. (theres quite a bit of guts in these i think... but the 2nd ova is much worse on the gore in one rlly long scene)

i dont rlly like the second movie as much... its just kinda meh for me.. except to see and hear sirene... literally her voice actor did such a good job im so gay (dont worry abt sexual assault in the ova's either, sirene is safe from that kind of depiction)

but basically! i say read the original manga, and if u want more(and rlly want to laugh) watch at least the first ova, then the 2nd if u want. but i beg you not to purchase anything new literally please dont support this disgusting author in any way

[reincarnated70sbaby]

star crossed

-chapter four-

*disclaimer: this work is entirely fiction, all scenes with real life people presented in this work are entirely fictitious.*

word count : 2.4k

warnings : angst! (af!) swearing ?  charlie watts being unbothered as ever, did i mention angst?

<<previous chapter

next chapter>>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a couple drinks in, the conversation of recording a track started up. Jimmy was actually quite excited, a Rolling Stones and Jimmy Page track was bound to happen sometime. Sure, Jimmy had played with them in his session days, but not anything to the extent of actually being featured and credited for the track. They decided to come back tomorrow to Bill’s home studio to record a track that might feature on the upcoming Goats Head Soup album. Two nights previous, he finished up the English leg of the 72/73 tour. In a couple weeks, Led Zeppelin would be embarking on their biggest tour yet - the 73 North American tour. There was plans to record a concert film and album, and Jimmy was really hopeful everything would work out.

“Lads I’m about to fucking pass out here, I’m out, see you all tomorrow yeah?”

“All right Jim, see y’a tomorrow, not to early mate right?”

After agreeing to come in the early afternoon with Bill , he bid goodnight to the rest of crew there, Charlie and the pianist for the album, Nicky. Sure, they weren’t as wild as the Toxic Twins, but they were still good company - better than getting drunk in his hotel room alone.

Walking back to his hotel room, the walk felt much longer than 10 minutes. Even though it was the beginning of February, and therefore the start of spring, he had to wrap his arms around himself to preserve body heat.

Reaching the hotel lobby, he was met with the warm air of the large room. Red carpets and gold accents adorned the room. It was quite late in the night - or early in the morning, so he decided to skip going to the bar in hopes of picking up a partner and instead, head straight to his room. On his way into the elevator, he passed two women, both wearing sunglasses. He thought that peculiar, and even more peculiar, he thought he recognised the woman with short brunette hair. After attempting to place the woman, he concluded he was in no state of mind to try.

Laying down on his bed, his thoughts wondered to Alice. He hadn’t heard anything about her since they were last together. He wasn’t even sure if she was still in the music business. He wondered would he ever see her again. He hoped he would, but a feeling in his gut told him it would happen eventually. Sooner, or later, he thought.

Waking up slightly hungover, he showered and prepared for the day of recording ahead. It wasn’t to be a serious session, more of a jam of sorts and hopefully produce a track in the process.

Strolling casually into Bill’s recording studio, he noticed that, as per usual, everybody was there expect Mick. On second look he noticed that Mick Taylor was not there either.

“Where are the Mick’s?”

“I think Jagger is just late, but oh, theres Taylor there now!”

Just as Keith finished speaking, Mick Taylor walked in, guitar case in hand. This would be the first time Jimmy and Mick played together, and he hoped they would get on well.

“Jimmy, great to see you again, ready to play?”

“Nice to see you too, lets get down to it shall we boys?”

Mick Jagger had finally arrived, so he and Keith were working on lyrics, while Charlie and Bill were working on rhythms and riffs, leaving Jimmy and Mick Taylor to work out the main guitar melody. They worked really well together, as they both had the same blues origins and both loved incorporating it into new material.

“So who's the sound tech here anyway” Jimmy asked, while in the process of tuning his guitar down.

“Allie, she's been with us for the album, she's great, have you met her before?”

“Hmm, the name doesn't sound familiar I don't think”

“Well she had an appointment, so she’ll probably be here within the next hour” Mick commented, a shy smile coming onto his face when mentioning her.

After around half an hour of messing around, the boys were finally ready to start the recording tapes. All that stopped then was the missing sound tech.

“Good afternoon boys, I, being your guardian angel have brought lunch for all of us” Alice said cheerily, bursting through the door with a bright smile.

Jimmy’s head shot up at the sound of her voice, suddenly connecting all the dots. The feeling in his gut about meeting her, the woman in the hotel, and the ‘Allie’ nickname.

“Oh thank you Alice, forgot to mention we invited a special guest to join our entourage, last night at Bill’s after you and Taylor left” spoke Mick Jagger with his usual eloquence.

“Alice!”

“Jimmy” Alice replied curtly, a hint of sourness in her blank expression. Jimmy was now in front of Alice, greeting her.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, its been what, nearly four years! I didn’t even know if you were still an audio tech” Jimmy said warmly, excited to see her again

“I would say it’s a pleasure to see you too, but its not, so I wont” Alice casually said, blanking him, and moving further into the room. She set the bags of fresh food on the table, in the back of the recording section of the large hall. Jimmy watched her walk away casually, totally taken off guard by her coldness. The rest of the Stones all caught this too, extremely confused, but a little entertained by their encounter.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Keith asked, a small smirk on his lips, pointing between the two.

“I would say used to know, I was on of the engineers on Zeppelin II in 69”

“Hold on, I didn’t know you worked Zeppelin II? That means you must have been a teenager when you worked on it. Blimey” Mick, asked, all of this coming news to him, as well to the others. 

“I suppose you wouldn’t, after all I wasn’t even credited, nor my boss Tom” Alice said coolly, still not turning away from setting up the various soups and sandwiches. 

Obviously, the teenage Alice that Jimmy once knew was long gone. 

“God, Allie you look so old, what are you now? Twenty four, twenty five” Jimmy asked, sampling the new nickname, trying to break the stifling awkwardness that now infected the room.

“Still getting my age wrong I see, Jimmy. Im surprised you still know my name, after all the stunts you pulled over the last four years” Alice replied, walking directly towards Jimmy, accompanied with razor sharp glare. She now stood directly on front of him, slightly invading his personal space. She has grown taller and her face matured, loosing the slight roundness to her cheeks she once possessed. She apparently had cut off her long wavy crimson locks, in favour of a modern, dark brown bob.

“Uh, what’re you talking about?” Jimmy asked chuckling nervously as he scratched his head, hoping she wouldn’t notice his feigned innocence.

“Oh I’m sure you know, as does everyone else in this room. I don't really have the energy to continue this irrelevant conversation, or frankly, any conversation in general with you at this point. Also, it’s Alice to you” Alice stated sternly with a finger pointed to his chest. Jimmy could practically see the ice swirling in her cool blue eyes, the eyes he had come to miss over the years. He had never had encountered her true, red headed temperament. Now that he was on the receiving end, he desperately wanted to stay away from it.

“I’m not really hungry anyway, so I’ll be in the mod room if you guys need me” Alice said, directing her words to everyone but Jimmy, before leaving and entering the conjoining mod room. Mick Taylor quickly set his down his burnt orange Les Paul, then followed Alice out of the room.

“Woah, I haven’t seen drama like this since the last time Mick and Bowie had an arguement - which was last week, I think hmm” Keith remarked with a sarcastic finger on his chin, before moving to serve himself some soup.

“Actually Keef, I think this charade is a lot more entertaining than David’s and I’s little tiffs, as this is bit more of a lovers quarrel”

“Better not let Taylor hear that, or he’ll have to have a word with you Pagey” Bill commented, wide grin now on his face.

Jimmy was now the confused one. He turned to Charlie, silently asking him about Alice and Mick with the point of his finger. Charlie simply shrugged his shrugged his shoulders in response before going back to drumming a riff with the hi-hats and snare drums.

After everybody had ate or, cooled off, recording was finally underway. After a couple of takes, Alice interrupted to give some pointers.

“Look boys, I’m gonna be candid with you all. It sounds shit” Alice said into the mic. Ever since she had gotten more experience under belt, she became renowned for her no bullshit opinions. In turn, people valued her honestly and knew what she said was, more often than not, right.

“Yeah, boys let’s not sugarcoat it, we’re not exactly gelling as one” Keith commented, starting to become fed up with having to balance not only Mick Jaggers usual dramatics, but another egotistical lead guitarist in the mix.

“Okay, what do you think love?” Mick Taylor asked softly, trying to keep the peace before something erupted. He wasn’t wrong, the Stones, along with a quarter of Led Zeppelin, and a hot headed tech was a bit of a lethal cocktail. Fights often combusted quickly between the Stones and Alice, as all members were just as stubborn as each other.

“Well it sounds like there’s 5 Stones, and 25% Led Zeppelin playing. What I want, and what fans want to hear is The Stones featuring Jimmy Page. You five need to change your usual routine of recording for once and mix it up. And you” she looked to Jimmy “need to stop pretending you’re with the other boys. You both need to work with each others strengths and quit overcompensating. Stop pretending you’re something you’re not”

Everybody in the entire house probably could pick up that the last sentence was a direct jab to Jimmy. Another awkward silence passed, ultimately stemming from a staring contest between Alice and the famed guitarist.

“Oh my fucking god, kill me now” Mick muttered, pinching his nose, while Charlie just rolled his eyes and started drumming the start of the song. Eventually Keith started the riff with Mick Taylor,along with Bill and Charlie carrying the bass and percussion, and Mick Jagger singing the lyrics. Only when they reached the solo part, did Jimmy break eye contact with Alice and begin playing.

Finishing up recording, the boys all started to leave. Mick and Jimmy were the last to pack up their stuff, and an uncomfortable air fell over them. Obviously they both either had history, or were making history with Alice. Eventually Mick realised he should probably let the pair talk it out, so, as Jimmy toward the mod room door, Mick moved toward the hallway door.

“Alice, can we talk? Obviously things have become a bit strained between us, and I don’t want it to stay like this” Jimmy started softly. It was probably his choice of words that set Alice off, as immediately after his finished she whipped around from the sound board and kicked off.

“ 'Strained' Jimmy, are you serious?! Strained?! First of all, you didn’t even tell me you weren’t mixing the album with us, and then you just left after our night together. Then- don’t try to interrupt me James. Then, you barely even credit Tom for his songwriting tips on the album. You didn’t even mention me once, even whenever anyone brings up that Theremin part in ‘Whole Lotta Love’! You blush and go on to explain how it was your own fantastic brain that thought of it. The you had the audacity to diss Mystic studios in the papers! What was it you said again? Oh yeah, 'Mystic Studios was far from mystical and closer to meagre, and as a result, the workers were too.” Alice snarled, stream practically blowing out her ears.

“Okay, I agree that comment about Mystics’s capabilities was definitely wrong, I was extremely out of it in that interview- hell I even jibed Atlantic Records!” Jimmy was now getting frustrated too. Normally, no one put him in his place, or gave out to him.

“And then how cold you were about Tom!”

“Wait what happened with Tom?” Jimmy inquired, now serious.

“Oh my fucking god Jimmy” Alice shouted at him “you don’t even remember to you?” She said with a laugh. She searched his face, but all she saw was confusion in his light grey eyes.

“Tom had a fucking stroke last year. Peter told you, and don’t you dare deny it, as he told me he informed you all when I spoke to him on the phone. For Christ’s sake even Bonzo rang to see how he was doing! He didn’t even have my number, but he found it anyway! Robert and John joined the call after he finished speaking. When I asked for you, they said you were in a closet fucking a groupie!”

“Look Alice, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to sa-”

“I’m not surprised Jimmy, it’s a marvel you can play guitar at all, with having no fucking sense in your thick head”

“Stop being so fucking rude to me, you’re not perfect either! Don’t act so high and mighty! I know what went on in Geffen records! I’m mates with David Geffen” Jimmy was no shouting too. At the mention of David Geffen, Alice’s face immediately switched from red to a pale white.

“You do not know what happened between myself and David, if you did, you wouldn’t speak to him ever again” Alice spoke low and slowly, her face now white as a sheet.

Unbeknownst to the pair, all of the Stones were listening outside. When they heard Jimmy shouting about Geffen, Mick Taylor had enough and burst in. The rest of the boys tried to stop him, but he broke free.

“Jimmy, stop it. You don’t know anything about the Geffen incident. You don’t know Alice anymore. I suggest you leave her alone before I step in more. Al, let’s go, our driver is outside.” Mick stretched his hand out to Alice, her eyes now watery, trying to bite down her quivering lip.

Alice immediately joined Mick, and left without a second look to Jimmy.

Jimmy, now alone in the mod room, felt his gut twist with guilt. Had something bad happened with David Geffen and Alice? His mind wondered to Mick’s choice of words -‘incident’. He had heard rumours that were more damaging on David’s behalf, but being friendly with him, he thought he knew him better than all the tabloids and industry gossip.

Jimmy realised that both he and Alice had changed drastically in the last four years, how could he have expected everything to go back to how it was in the summer of ‘69? Now, they were even more distant than ever before.

Maybe they had missed their chance at eternity. Maybe the stars had uncrossed.

His heart nearly broke at the revelation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ok so chapter four !!!

I wanna write angst more often it’s my guilty pleasure

anyway, I think this is my favourite piece I’ve written 😌

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tag list : @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey @dreamersdrowse

[kashimos-hajime]

sing for the lion and lamb

Summary: “This was what she had signed up for - a good man and minimal pleasure.”

WARNINGS: spoilers as we get through it, swearing, backstory, struggles, this is one of the happiest chapters Pairing: Dectetive Loki x Reader Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i’m a mess over prisoners and i wrote this super mess series called 1996. this is the first chapter. this is finished so i’ll be posting the other parts later but its movie+extra scenes bc theres so much stuff to get through and also reader and loki need to get through shit

... | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

To say you love Loki would be a stretch. Two humans, born and raised in Pennsylvania who just happened to have known each other since the care system should have a natural tendency to gravitate towards each other. The two of you found each other again, so you are bound to have some sort of connection. But whilst you have a certain fondness for the man, a certain bond you are quite sure was deeper than blood, you wouldn’t name it love.

No, love is for those who didn’t know better. 

Love is not for the shadows of your eyes or the darkness in his soul. Love is not for men and women like you. 

“Detective.” 

Your eyes raise from the police report of the missing girls before you, blinking away the black boxes and messy scribbles as the man tilts his head at you. “You need something?”

The corner of his mouth twitch into something almost like a smile but your eyes only soak in the pale half-moons under his eyes. He’s sleeping again. Good. He needs all he could get before the case on the missing kids gets some steam. Rolling out your neck, you slide the report into a manila folder and stand.

“Wanted to know if you wanted to head home for a minute or two.” There comes his wide smile, one that completely morphs his face. It tugs at his cheeks, wrinkles his eyes, makes him look younger than he is. Whenever he smiles as he does now, it makes you forget about the paleness in his cheeks, the taste of coffee on his tongue, the rough stubble along his jaw. It makes him look young and handsome and like the street kid you’d known.

He knows you like that smile. Like looking at him. In bed, flushed and moaning, or otherwise. He knows it will convince you and you roll your eyes because this is not going to be a rare occasion where it’ll fail.

“Are you trying to sweet-talk me?” You stretch your arms high above your head, ignoring the way his smile drops off his face as you turn off the burning lamp on your desk. Only the pale lights of the office remains, washing the both of you in ugly pale light. 

“If you have room for dinner, maybe I will.” 

You grab your long coat, popping the collar around your cheeks and he pushes off the wall of your cubicle, walking around and stuffing his hands in his pockets. You sling your bag onto your shoulder and pull hair from underneath your collar.

“No plans for Thanksgiving?” you ask, knowing the answer. It’s only polite to ask. Detective Loki always has a pleasant way of surprising you outside the bedroom.

“None without you, I s’pose.” 

“And we’ve spent the day at work.” You don’t sound particularly surprised and the detective merely shrugs. “Come on, I know a place.”

He cocks his head to the door. It isn’t only the two of you in the station at this time of night but your caffeine-lacking brain rationalizes that they wouldn’t care and you lean up to kiss his jaw. He turns at the last moment and presses a hard kiss against your mouth, teeth snagging on your lips and you sigh into his mouth, tasting coffee and gum and the faint scent of his aftershave. Hands finding his jaw, your fingers scratch at his cheek, trail down his neck and take fistfuls of his jacket.

Your heart thrums in your throat, beats at your stomach like a drum and all you want to do is peel off the clothes burning your body, feeding the fire in your core as he noses your chin, granting himself access to your neck.

“Hey,” you whisper, hands carding through his hair. You aren’t quite sure if you want to push him away or pull him closer as he raises his head from where he’d been sucking a wet mark along the cord of your throat. “I’m hungry.”

“I know.” He ducks again to gently nip at the mark and you smack him lightly, pushing him away.

“You know I’m actually fucking hungry,” you mutter and he growls against your lips, kissing your mouth bruisingly and too, too quickly before he rips himself away. You hadn’t even realized he’d been sucking the life out of you while his hands had casually been in his pockets but he shrugs, the jacket shifting along his shoulders.

Cocky bastard. 

“Come on. Sooner we get dinner, sooner I get you,” he whispers against your ear and you chuckle into his mouth as he snags another kiss.

.

“Do you know what your, uh, Chinese zodiac sign is?”

You wipe at your mouth with a napkin, frowning when your lipstick smears over white. The detective looks up from where he was reading the meaning of each on the paper place mat, offering a smile. This restaurant is one of your favourites, having been the restaurant you went to after your… well, you wouldn’t call it a first date. You went here for a meal once, alone, ‘cause you were hungry after a night with the man sitting across from you. 

After-fucking meal. That’s the phrase. Apt, and conventional, and...

Point is, you like it here and you want him to like it.

He sips on his white mug, taking in the tea as you push around your fried rice. He’s working on some noodles as you drag a finger over the drawings of the Chinese zodiac on the paper.

“No. Do you?”

“Rat.” You watch as he turned to read, finger trailing until he finds the animal at the top of the list. 

“Intelligent, charming, quick-witted. Hm.” He arches an eyebrow and you roll your eyes as the waitress came with the check. It’s only the two of you in this small establishment and you look around, nothing the absence of fortune cookies in the red metallic bowl near the register.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Thanks.” He raises his hand to gesture in a vague shape and you squint as the waitress poured your mug full of tea. “Hey, you have any of those, um, fortune cookie things?”

“My boss told me cops don’t like fortune cookies.”

“Well, it’s Thanksgiving,” you murmur and the waitress laughs under her breath. “What’s your Zodiac sign?”

“Monkey.”

You toss a glance expectantly at the man sitting across from you and he drops the bill he was reading, looking down at the paper.

“Very intelligent. You have an ability to influence people.” You hum thoughtfully at his answer as he continues, “Maybe you could influence your boss to lower the check a little bit?”

You snort quietly, hiding your laugh as you pull out your wallet. Picking up the slip of paper, you read the the total and begin to lay out bills to pay as the waitress shakes her head.

“Mr. Li is a rooster, Detective,” you comment, extending the check back to the waitress. 

“Thank you.”

“Keep the change.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t miss the edge of his tone as he takes another sip of his tea. Jealousy. You opt not to answer and his gaze drops to the paper. 

“What does the rooster mean?” Leaning on your hand, you watch as he reads out the description. 

“He’s selfish and eccentric.” His eyes raise to meet yours and his gaze carries a hint of mischief. “That’s—”

In unison, both your phones vibrate. David’s clatters against the table and you shove a hand into your bag, feeling for yours. Digging out the phone, you stand and gather your coat and bag as David grabs his own raincoat. The heels on your boots click hard against the tile in your haste to get from the restaurant to the car with as little rain contact as possible as David answers the phone, right at your heels.

Shielding yourself from the rain, you walk to the car and duck into the old thing, slamming the door shut. He slides in beside you, twisting the keys in the ignition and he hands you the radio on instinct. As the two of you pull out of the parking lot, you can’t help the warmth in your gut extinguishing. 

It is so easy to pretend, sometimes. To act as if you’re people you wish you could be. A bitter taste floods your mouth as you think about moments like the ones in the restaurant, ones where you felt so perfectly normal that it’s crazy to even think about the broken parts between you and the man beside you.

But then you’re dragged back into the real world. The real world of long nights, and bullet rain, and the fact that you and David are merely co-workers who live together because that is the only way you can survive having him in your life.  Any more than what he is now, the occasional hook-up, your partner in every case, it might as well break you.

It’s clockwork, working with him. Without rust or a knot in the system, you never feel like there is a task you cannot handle, a case you cannot crack. That ease, that bond, doesn’t come from something messy like what could’ve been. It comes from someone who knows your mind better than you. 

The thought terrifies you at night because you sure as hell think about what could’ve been more than you’d like to admit.

Shaking yourself of the person you were in the restaurant into the person you are, you roll down the window and let rain-slick wind slice into your cheeks. There is a plastic container of gummies on the dash and you reach for it, nerves biting at your fingers. Your other hand reaches for the radio as you respond.

“This is 13-40 and 13-41. We’re five minutes out. We’ll meet the responding units there.”

.

Your whole body drenched in sleet-cold rain, you feel your jaw twitch as David interrogates the man into the corner of the room. You can’t help the pity welling up inside you as you gently tease your hair through a proffered towel, and you can’t help the fire burning in your stomach, warming you from the inside out.

His tactic, getting up close and personal with the potential suspect, always has a way of messing with you.

Shaking it off, you ignore the thoughts that dog at you persistently — the images of him grabbing at Alex Jones and wrenching him to his feet — as you turn away. You squeeze your hair between the towel as you walk through the halls of the station, your heels echoing in the mostly-empty building. Linoleum reflects the artificial light as you reach the locker room, pushing open the door and throwing the damp towel into the dirty wash basket.

Shedding your long rain coat, you sigh and begin to unbutton your blouse. It sticks to your skin like wet paper as the air conditioning puffs goosebumps onto your chest and arms. You unzip your boots, tugging them off before peeling away your pants and examining the status of your socks. Your badge clatters against the wooden bench as you sit down in nothing but your bra and underwear. Your nose twitching, you stare down at your toes and inhale sharply. Rain is clogging up your sinuses, but your socks are dry.

Not soaked through, so boots held up. Good. 

The shower pelts against your skin, hot bullets that slam into your skull deliciously and chase whatever chill rain left on your skin as you hear the door open. Closing your eyes, you let the shower run over your face, focusing on the hissing stream over the clatter of boots you can hear.

It’s nearing 12 AM and you are sure everyone who doesn’t want to be here and don’t need to be here are gone. No one is here more than you and David. No one showers in here if they had a choice. So much for Thanksgiving. Should I be giving thanks that we might’ve caught the sick fucker already? Perhaps.

In your heart, somehow, you know it isn’t him.

Through the shuffling of fabric, you rake shampoo through your hair and begin to lather your body with soap, merely waiting until he shows up as steam begins to soak into your skin. A pair of pants drop to the tile, the clink of a belt against ceramic. Then, soft footsteps that brush against the shower tile and a shadow that blocks out the faint light. Taking a deep breath, you run your hand over your face and pull open the shower curtain. 

“Come here,” you murmur over the steam rolling out of your little shower stall. David steps in through the shaft of light that pours through to your little world before thrashing the curtain back into place. The stall dims remarkably as he leans down to kiss your forehead. You step back so he can stand under your stream of burning hot water and he blinks against the current.

Your forehead rests against his collarbone. His arms rise to run hands through his hair and he cards fingers through the dark strands as your hands encircle his waist. It’s darkly intimate, and all too familiar but you can’t help the addicting heat that he provides. Water runs down his chest and over your arms as you count the tattoos on his chest. One, two, three...

“Any leads?” Your voice is barely audible over the hiss of the shower.

“Aunt’s house.” He has a tattoo of a robin mid flight along his ribcage, and you trace the arc of its wing, palm flat against his heaving ribs. It’s one you know every stroke of, one you watched being carved into his chest. Your eyes close as a finger curls underneath your chin, lifting you to him. “Open your eyes.”

You do to see strands of hair falling into his eyes, his skin red against the blistering heat of the shower. Cupping his face with one hand, you use your fingers to delicately pull away the dark slick hair. His eyes bleeding midnight, his breath ghosts against your lips as his finger trails down your neck. His hand is warm against your throat and he makes sure that your eyes do not stray. As if an astronomer can look away from the phenomenon in the universe, a clash of asteroids, a dying star. He reaches into your mind, pulls you apart like a well-worn book, and reads your thoughts like a diary entry before he pulls out and his eyes fill with shards of glass.

“This isn’t like that,” he promises, insists, convinces you, and you nod because it’s the only thing you can do. Your heart splits in your chest, thrumming in your mouth and crushing your stomach all at once as his gentle grip on your neck firms. Your hands trail his waist, fingers dancing along tattoos that used to have meaning as you count the seconds you can stay standing. “We’re gonna find these girls.”

“Yeah. I know that.”

He sighs, eyes searching your face and you kiss him fully, softly. His lips taste of wind and rainwater.

The shower turns off and the two of you step out, drying each other’s legs and arms, face and hair as is routine when you shower together, and then you get dressed. He clips your badge to your belt, you slide the ring onto his pinky finger. He zips up your boots, you clip the necklace around his neck.

Clockwork.

You toss your hair up into a tight knot and hang your raincoat over your arm. Your gut twisted, you turn to your… something. He gives you a short nod, raking his hair back with rough fingers. You shed your old self, leave it in the shower to slip into the drain.

“Let’s go.”

.

Whilst David went for the Birches, you stop outside the Dovers, walking up the steps. The two of you had gotten no sleep last night after the visit to the aunt’s and forensics for the RV came back negative. Caffeine rules your system as you climb the steps and ring the doorbell.

A kid no older than sixteen or seventeen answers, all pale and terrified-looking. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink either and you press your lips together. Although you empathize with the family, you can’t afford to become attached. You nudge your coat to flash your badge and the kid steps aside. Your fingers unclench from its tight fist as you enter the home.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Ralph. Uh, my dad… I… I saw the RV first. Did my dad tell you guys that?” 

You pause, turning around to spot the kid closing the door. He looks like he’s seen death, and his eyes are wide-eyed and shine under the light through the windows. Poor kid.

“Yeah, I read the statement.”

“Okay, Dad wanted me to, uh, make sure,” the boy says and you follow him to where a blonde sits on the couch, tissues littered around her. “Mom?” The woman looks up as you stick out a hand for her to shake.

“Detective Y/L/N. My partner and I are heading the case for your missing daughter.”

“Yes, of course. Sit. Do you need anything to drink?” She begins to unfurl on the couch but you simply hold out a hand. The woman’s face is sallow and thin, and she looks almost as if she is phasing from another time to your present. You sit down on the couch. Her voice scratches and you wonder when the last time she ate was, the last time she showered or drank or slept.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m just here to…” Your voice fades as your phone vibrates in your pocket and you dig it out, turning on the screen to see an email notification from David. Opening it up, you frown at the few attachments strung along.

Better photos of the other kid. Heading over to you now. -D

“So, did we pass?” As you watch the bar across the screen signify the speed of your download, you also begin to forward the photos to the Captain.

“Hm?” You are only half-listening. Your phone vibrates again and you open up the downloaded photos, letting out a soft sigh as round, dark brown eyes stare back at you on your tiny screen. What a fucking shame.

“The poly thing. The lie detector we took this morning.” Turning off your phone, you let it fall into your tight fist as you look at the mother. She stares at you as if you hold all the answers and you swallow a tight knot. “Did we pass?”

“Yeah. You’re fine. I don’t think anyone really suspected the two of you anyway,” you say, glancing at your phone again. “Thank you for your cooperation, though. You understand — the formalities we have to take. Precautions.” You tuck a slip of hair behind your ears and her eyes flicker to the movement, gaze following your fingers. You know what she is trying to do and you interlace your fingers, hiding the permanent ink needled into your skin along your knuckles.

“Yes, of course. It’s just… it’s embarrassing. I don’t know. All this fuss — people are just going to think we’re crazy when they show up here, perfectly fine or… I don’t know.” The woman’s arms crossed tight against her chest, she doesn’t even look at you anymore. Your eyes dart to her knuckles to find them stark white, her fingers digging into the flesh of her bicep.

“Do you have any reason to believe they might’ve run away?” The words come out tough as rubber in your mouth. The woman’s eyes close and you sigh, already regretting your words. You know in your gut that that isn’t the case.

“No,” she breathes, “no. They’re happy. They… the must have run away.” A silly child’s game. The woman nods along to her own words as she tries to convince herself. Your heart crumbles to ash in your chest as you force on a smile. “I think they must have run away, right?”

“Of course, Mrs. Dover. But we’ll find them,” you assure, setting a hand gently on her knee. She seems to quiver under your palm as she swallows and looks at you with bleak, earthwet eyes.

“Your police captain told me about the two of you. Um, he said that you and your partner—” You suck in a quiet breath, already knowing what her next words are going to be. You don’t like it, the pressure, the want to keep a record pristine, but your reputation has always preceded you in cases like these. Cases where you just wanted to find the grave and be done with it when your very thought should be finding a warm body, not a cold one— “he told me that the two of you have solved every case you’ve ever been assigned. Is that right?”

Your nails dig into the flesh of your palms as you look away. You don’t want to give this woman hope, even if she needs it. It’s stupid, you realize, to stare at the reflection of yourself when you have already smashed every mirror.

Your nose twitches.

The doorbell rings. The kid, Ralph, goes to get it again as you look up at the woman. She’s beginning to break down, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles out apologies.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” she whispers through her tears as the door opens. You can see the shadow of him on the walls before he comes in and you shake your head minutely as soon as your gazes meet. Nothing here. “Do you… do you have children, detective?” 

You bite your lip until you taste blood.

“We’re gonna find your daughter.” Mrs. Dover looks up jerkily, flinching at the man’s voice. Closing your eyes, you hang your head as your partner walks deeper into the room. Everything feels like it’s been scooped out of you, replaced with nothing but sick and acid.

You can’t listen to promises you aren’t quite sure you can keep anymore.

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter four

[ao3]

is it technically tuesday? yes. are we going to talk about that? no. everybody lives in at least gmt-1 now suck it up 

@tirednotflirting yet again...i cannot sing your praises enough for reading this ENTIRE fucking thing!! although it looks a bit different here to how it looks on the google doc because its not in bold and theres no ‘finishh’ in sight nor my insane random words that i write down when i know exactly the words i want to say but i’m too lazy to write them. am i the worst writer known to man? possibly

we are getting to the juicy stuff now...its quarter to fucking malum o’clock...

also if you saw the title of this chapter before i went to check you didn’t see it. close your eyes 

By the time Calum wakes up the next afternoon, they’re already halfway back to Manchester, somewhere on the M40. Predictably, Liam's up, vibrating with that impatient energy he’s always got when he can’t snort or drink it away, and Calum’s the second one to rise, padding into the lounge area sleepily, yawning loudly and rubbing his eyes. His head’s fucking pounding, and his mouth is dry and disgusting, but Liam, because he sometimes is the angel his doe eyes and full lips make him out to be, has already put out a cup of water and two paracetamols for him. 

“How the fuck are you never hungover?” Calum grumbles, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Liam and nestling into his side as he downs the paracetamol. 

“Luck of the Irish,” Liam tells him, resting his cheek on Calum’s head. Calum makes a noise of discontent and turns to press his face into Liam’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut like it’s going to stop his head from hurting. 

“You deserve a hangover,” he mumbles. “You were off your fucking head last night.” 

“And you weren’t?” 

“Never said that.” Liam huffs out a soft laugh. 

“Nearly fainted in the fucking toilets, you did.” Calum scowls. 

“Fuck off,” he says, as his memory flashes back to last night - yeah, he did almost fucking faint in the toilets, but that was only because- and then his eyes fly open, because fuck. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Michael. 

“Our kid barely even made it back to the bus last night,” Liam says, and it’s just meant to be casual conversation, maybe a little contemptuous, but it makes Calum’s lungs collapse in on themselves with guilt. 

He’d spoken to Michael. He’d come to some sort of a fucking understanding with Michael, something he can’t quite remember and doesn’t quite understand. Fuck, he might have even called Michael pretty. Jesus Christ. He’s fairly certain any and all of that goes against his promise to Noel. 

“Oh?” he says, when he remembers to speak. Liam just hums, and Calum tries not to exhale too shakily as his mind races. 

It’s not his fault, he tells himself. Not really. He’d been there first, hadn’t he? Michael had been the one to walk up to him, and the one who hadn’t walked away. And sure, maybe Calum had been the one to strike up conversation, but it hadn’t exactly been friendly, had it? And Michael had been the one to ask questions, to change the topic, and to level the playing field when Calum had accidentally let something slip. Plus, Calum had been drunk and high, so he can’t really be held accountable for his actions, can he? 

Liam’s still talking, but Calum’s not listening, and it doesn’t even matter because Liam cuts himself off when Tony stumbles into the lounge area, bleary-eyed and yawning. There’s no paracetamol set out for him, and Liam makes no move to get any. 

“I’m looking forward to a fucking break,” Tony says a little hoarsely, and flops down on the sofa opposite Liam and Calum. 

“Fucking when?” Liam says. “We’ve got Top of the Pops in two days.” Tony groans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“Fucking Top of the Pops,” he mumbles. “Why the fuck did we agree to that?” 

“For the money,” Liam says. 

“Don’t even get to play the fucking drums,” Tony says, muffled by his palms. 

“Thank fuck for that,” Liam mutters.

  -------

  Top of the Pops is exactly the bland, boring nightmare Calum expects it to be. 

They’re shepherded into some kind of studio for a rehearsal and informed that they’ll be recording a live track then and there which will be mixed together with the album version, and none of them will actually be playing live. Liam’s having absolutely fucking none of it, and for once neither is Noel, and Calum, Bonehead and Tony all decide to step back and enjoy the show that is both Gallaghers on the same team for once. 

After a lot of shouting, swearing and a few threats of violence, it’s decided that they’ll go ahead with recording the backing track but Liam will sing live. Noel’s absolutely fucking furious about not being allowed to play live, but it’s almost entirely forgotten when he sees the setup for the stage - Tony on drums in the front, Calum and Bonehead on a step behind him, and Liam and Noel on another step right at the back. The BBC aren’t budging on that, though, despite Calum, Bonehead, and Alan all weighing in to agree that it’s fucking stupid to have the stars of the band stood right at the back, and a nasty row breaks out between the Gallaghers and the production team, ending in Calum having to move at the speed of fucking light when he sees Liam tense into the all-too-familiar I’m going to fucking deck you stance. A lawsuit with the BBC is still well beyond their budget, no matter how well the singles have been doing. 

Calum manages to talk Liam down, and Liam manages to talk Noel down, and they’re only ten minutes behind schedule by the time that the brothers have reluctantly agreed to do the show, which is pretty good going for them. They trail to the stage to the sound of screaming and cheering, which makes Calum’s head spin a little bit as he picks up his unplugged bass. They’re really fucking making it now, he thinks in awe, as he looks out at the sea of excited faces and spots a few white Oasis shirts. They’re really fucking doing this. 

They get set up and pretend to play Shakermaker, and Liam sounds fucking gorgeous, like he’s making a point to the producers, and Noel slings his arm around Liam as they walk off, a protective, proud gesture that Liam grins at and leans into. They’re fucking unstoppable, Calum thinks, as he trails after them, Noel’s arm tight around Liam and Liam stumbling over his own feet as he tries to press as close to Noel as possible. The two of them on the same side is a fucking sight to behold.

They’re at a hotel that night, and Liam and Bonehead decide they want to go out but Tony and Noel want to stay in, and Calum decides he’s too tired to stay up for the length of time it’s going to take him to find someone willing to fuck him. 

(“What d’you think coke’s for?” Liam says to him, and Calum rolls his eyes.) 

Calum falls asleep almost as soon as his head touches the pillow, and he wakes up early to the sound of Liam stumbling into the room, high and drunk and probably something else, bruises blooming all over his throat and grinning giddily. 

“Good night?” Calum says. 

“The best,” Liam declares, and then passes out on his bed. 

They have to drive back to Manchester that day, though, because they’ve got a show in Leeds tomorrow, so Liam only gets about four hours of rest before Alan’s banging on the door and yelling at them to get the fuck up, lazy fuckers, didn’t I fucking tell you bus call’s at twelve? To his credit, though, he only complains about a hundred times, and stops when Noel rolls his eyes, holds his arms open and lets Liam snuggle into him and have a nap while Noel chats to Alan about the setlist for America. 

Calum tunes most of it out, because he’s not fussed about what’s on the setlist and he trusts Noel to pick the best of his own songs, and spends two hours getting absolutely thrashed at chess by Tony. By the time they’re back in Manchester, Calum’s lost a game of chess to literally everybody on the bus, including Liam, who's being taught the rules of chess by Noel and Bonehead as they play, and Calum decides he’s never fucking playing chess ever again. 

(“We’re fucking buying some new games,” he says moodily, when Liam flicks his king over nonchalantly. 

“No need to get so mardy,” Bonehead says, stretching out and grinning at Calum. 

“Fuck you,” Calum grumbles, sweeping all the pieces off the chess board. “We’re getting a game that I can fucking win.” 

“Alright,” Noel says, grinning. “How about Frustration?”)

Calum’s mum has dinner ready for him when he drags himself up the path and into the house, and she fusses over the state of his hair and his clothes and says really, Calum in a disapproving voice whenever Calum uses colourful language to describe exactly what he thinks about the production team of Top of the Pops. Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling when she tuts at him for fondly calling Liam a silly cunt for the fourth time that evening, because it’s nice. It makes him feel like a kid again, but in the best possible way; warm, protected, like someone’s still looking out for him. 

His dad gets back from work around seven, and they sit down to watch the Top of the Pops performance together. Calum’s heart swells with pride when it’s their turn to play, because they look fucking cool. The staging’s still shite, granted, but Liam looks every inch the rock ‘n’ roll star he claims to be, and the rest of them look lazily and effortlessly cool, helped enormously by the fact they’re half in the shadows, lights focused on the Gallaghers. 

Calum’s parents are polite about the song, and he can see they’re beaming with pride, but he can also tell they don’t really get it. It’s okay, he thinks, unable to help the smile that creeps onto his face as he watches his parents watch him on TV. They like jazz. It’s probably for the best that they don’t think it’s good music. 

Calum’s mum switches to some soap opera after Top of the Pops, and his dad grumbles not this again and pulls out his newspaper, but Calum can see his face popping over the top of the paper every two seconds. After three minutes he comments wasn’t Sheila dating Mark last week? She’s not having an affair with Bertie, is she? Calum snorts, and his dad glares at him, opening his mouth to make a defensive remark about how he doesn’t follow this show, it’s absolute rubbish, but then the phone rings. 

“I’ll get it,” Calum says, before anyone has the chance to say anything, mostly to avoid having to listen to his dad’s I’m not watching this, Calum, don’t be cheeky spiel, and his mum just nods absent-mindedly, waving a dismissive hand at him, eyes glued to the TV. Calum heads for the phone in the kitchen, just because it’s the closest, jogging to get there before it rings out. 

“Hello?” he says, when he picks up. There’s silence at the other end of the line, and he frowns. “Hello?” he tries again. 

“Hi.” Calum’s stomach drops. 

“ Michael? ” 

“Yeah.” 

“What the f- how the- what? What? ” Calum’s heart is beating out of his fucking chest, almost covering the embarrassment that’s flaring up as foggy memories of their last conversation drag themselves to the forefront of his mind. 

“Sorry,” Michael says, and he sighs, and Calum can just imagine him running his fingers through his hair, a small crease between his brows. “Fuck, I- sorry. I shouldn’t’ve-”

“No,” Calum says abruptly, clutching the receiver, dreading the fucking dial tone. “No, I just- how did you get this number?” There’s a moment of silence. 

“Only so many Joy Hoods in the book,” Michael says, and Calum exhales, hoping the crackling static of the phone line will hide how shaky it is. 

“Oh,” he says. Michael had sought him out. Michael wants to talk. Michael still remembers his mum’s name. 

“I saw you,” Michael says suddenly, into the uncomfortable silence that’s blossomed between them, neither of them knowing what to say next. “On Top of the Pops.” 

“Yeah?” Calum doesn’t trust himself to say any more, but the question on the tip of his tongue is evident in the eagerness in his tone, anyway. 

“Yeah.” There’s a pause. “Sounded good.” 

“That’s because it’s a backing track.” Michael huffs out a laugh, sounding a little surprised, like he wasn’t expecting it to come out.

“I guess,” he allows. They lapse into silence again, loud and uncomfortable, before Michael sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds a little regretful.  “I shouldn’t’ve called.” 

“No,” Calum blurts. “I’m glad you did.” The phone’s warm against his fingers, slippery from his hot, sweaty hands, and he’s clasping it so hard he thinks it might break. He tries to focus on that rather than on what he’s just said, on the knife-edge he feels like they’re poised on, each word a weight that could unbalance them. 

“Are you?” Michael sounds a little doubtful, and a little sceptical. 

“Yeah.” Michael hums, like he’s mulling something over. 

“Do your bandmates know?” Calum’s heart skips a beat. 

“Know what?” 

“That we talked.” At Glastonbury, while you were drunk and high and out of your fucking mind. You called me pretty, by the way. He doesn’t say any of that, but Calum’s mind tacks it on helpfully anyway. 

“Do yours?” Calum says, deflecting, because his stomach’s bottoming out with the sheer weight of the guilt, of the broken promise. Or was it broken? Calum barely remembers, just remembers the look on Michael’s face, the tiny microexpressions, the glassiness of his eyes. 

“No.” Calum inhales sharply, can’t fucking help himself - Michael’s talking to Calum, and the rest of Blur don’t know. That's got to mean something, even if Calum isn't entirely sure what.

“Oh.” 

“Do they know?” Michael asks again. Calum stares at the hob opposite him, weighing up his answer. 

If he says yes, he’ll be lying, and whatever the fuck him and Michael have going on right now is so fragile that one lie like that will send it all crumbling down, pulverise it so thoroughly that it’ll never be able to be built back up again. If he says no, though, he’ll be doing the same to Oasis, to his best mates, to his career.  There's no right answer.

“Not yet,” he settles on eventually, straddling the line between Oasis and Michael. It’s the truth - he hasn’t told them, but they might find out at some point. 

“Are you going to tell them?” Fucking hell. Trust Michael to pick at the loose thread.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” It’s true, and that’s the best Calum can offer him. 

There’s a moment of silence, neither of them really knowing what to say, and it’s fucking gut-wrenching because Calum’s never had that with Michael. He’d never even had to think about what to say with Michael - he’d just existed, just been, and that was always enough. 

“Luke and Ashton asked about you,” Michael says, and Calum’s breath hitches. 

“Oh?” he says. “How are they?”

“Good,” Michael says. “They’re good.” He pauses for a moment, and then adds: “Luke’s a pilot, now. Or training to be, I think. I don’t know. Ashton’s a teacher.” 

“Oh,” Calum says, voice small. Two of his best mates, in an earlier life; two spotty blonde teenage boys laughing on the beach at Calum splashing Michael in the water, shooting each other furtive glances across crowded rooms, getting high just for an excuse to shotgun. A fucking pilot and a teacher. 

“Yeah,” Michael says. 

“Did they ever get their shit together?” Calum asks. 

“What? Oh, yeah. Fuck, has it been that long?” Michael exhales heavily. “They’ve been together for years.” 

“Oh.” Calum doesn’t know what else to say to that. He’s trying to imagine it; a pilot and a teacher, fucking hell. Maybe Luke brings Ashton little gifts from his trips abroad. Maybe Ashton writes Luke postcards while his pupils work. Who does the cooking? Luke definitely doesn’t clean. Or maybe he does. If Michael’s changed this much, maybe Luke has, too. 

“What about you?” Michael asks. 

“What about me?” Calum’s not sure what Michael’s asking. Michael knows what he’s up to - he’s in Oasis, spending all his money on intoxicants, trying to exist alongside the supernova that’s the Gallagher brothers. 

“Y’know.” Calum doesn’t know. 

“I have no id-” 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Michael says it all in a rush, like it’s taken a lot of courage to say it. It probably has, Calum thinks. He wouldn’t have asked Michael. It’s sort of reassuring, actually, makes something a little warm blossom in his chest, because that’s still so Michael . Michael always blurted out questions, always demanded answers, always kept social etiquette and politeness as an afterthought.

“No,” Calum says. He swallows, and then adds: “Are you?” 

“No.” Good, Calum wants to say, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t have Michael like that anymore; he doesn’t have the right. 

“Why did you call?” he says instead. Michael hesitates. 

“I saw you on TV,” he says eventually. That’s not a reason. 

“Why did you call?” Calum presses. Michael inhales, and doesn’t exhale for a moment.  

“I don’t know,” he admits eventually, on a long, heavy  exhale. Calum doesn’t blame him. None of this really makes sense to him either; the fact he feels like this after five years of not seeing Michael, after four years of not speaking to him, after three years of not thinking about him. He’s not sure why he wants this, whatever this is, not sure why he wants more of Michael, not sure why his heart feels drawn to Michael like it’s north and Michael’s south. 

“Yeah,” Calum says, hoping it conveys I understand. 

“I almost reached out,” Michael says suddenly. “A few times. Over the past year, I mean.”

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Didn’t want to.” 

“Why didn’t you tell your band?” 

“Didn’t know how,” Michael says. Calum gets that too; he’d thought about it as well, entertained the idea, turned it over and over in his mind, but he’d never known what to say. I fucked the guitarist from Blur - I was in love with him actually - and I don’t know why I can’t get him off my mind would probably have sparked even worse reactions than the way it had come out did.

“They seem really protective of you,” Calum says. 

“They are,” Michael says, and there’s a small smile evident in his tone. “Not like yours, though. I don’t think all the money in the world could get Graham to start a fight on my behalf.” Calum can’t help the startled laugh that escapes him. 

“I don’t think all the money in the would could get Liam not to start a fight on my behalf,” Calum says, and Michael huffs out a soft laugh. 

"I'm glad you found such good friends," he says, and the smile is ripped off Calum's face at the jarring reminder that they don't know each other anymore. It sounds so distant, like Michael's content with this arm's-length distance between them, two people who used to know everything about each other and are now making polite small talk.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “I’m glad, too.” He can’t bring himself to say what he really means - I’m sorry it was good enough to take me from you. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to say it. 

“I should go,” Michael says after a minute. Calum wants to say no, don’t, stay, but he forces the words back down and nods, still staring blankly at the hob. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Me too.” 

“It was-”

“Don’t,” Calum says abruptly, as his stomach twists. It was nice talking to you. It was nice catching up. He doesn’t want to hear the finality of the words, the forced politeness, the jarring dissonance that is the boy he’d known and loved for so long and the man he is now.  

Michael doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he sighs. 

“Look,” he says. “I- you don’t-” he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and starts again. “D’you want my number?” 

“Do I- uh, yeah,” Calum says, a little stupidly, glancing around wildly for something to write on. 

“I’m on tour for the next few months,” Michael says, as Calum snatches up a recipe his mum had left lying out, and an incredibly unsharpened pencil. “But I’ll- y’know. When I’m home.” I’ll call you. He can’t bring himself to say it, and Calum doesn’t blame him. 

“Okay,” Calum says. 

“You got a pen?”

“Yeah.” Michael rattles off a number, some area code Calum doesn’t recognise, something starting 071. He writes it down hastily, hoping he’s heard it right because he doesn’t want to ask is that five like hive or nine like fine , and then rips the corner of the recipe off and tucks it into his pocket. 

“Got it,” Calum says, dropping the pencil onto the counter with a clatter. “071, where’s that?” 

“London.”

“Oh. Uh. Cool,” Calum says. 

“Well,” Michael says, a touch awkwardly. “See you around, then, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Calum echoes. There’s one more moment, the two of them listening to each other breathing, a second suspended in time, and then it’s broken by a click and a dial tone. 

Calum puts the phone down a little dazedly, just as his mum wanders into the kitchen. 

“Who was it?” she asks. Calum hesitates, and she raises an eyebrow, which means he’s lost the opportunity to say oh, just a cold call. 

“Michael,” he says, and her eyes widen. 

“Clifford?” she says. He nods. Who the fuck else is it going to be, Michael the sound engineer that had mixed two fucking tracks in Cornwall? “I didn’t know you two still spoke.” 

“We don’t.” Her face softens. 

“Oh, honey,” she says gently, and Calum swallows. He hasn’t told her yet, hasn’t told her about the awards ceremony and Glastonbury, and somehow, he doesn’t quite want to. She seems to sense it, though, because she just sighs and pulls him into a warm, tight hug. Calum wraps his arms around her, closes his eyes and buries his face in her shoulder. Even though he’s half a foot taller than her, even though she only comes up to his collarbone, it still feels like she’s the one protecting him, like he’s small and cocooned in her arms. 

She lets go after a minute, fussing over him messing up his hair, and he groans at her and ducks out of the way of her meddling fingers, but the warm feeling stays, and when she smiles at him and tells him she’s going to bake him his favourite biscuits tomorrow, he feels seventeen again. 

(Or maybe that’s just Michael.) 

  -------

 July and August pass in the blink of an eye.

After Leeds, they have three weeks off. Calum finally fixes the garden wall, and for the first few days, he finds himself jumping every time the phone rings. It’s never Michael though - most of the time it’s one of the brothers, asking whether Calum wants to go to the pub or get high or go out on the pull, and sometimes it’s Alan, reminding him that he’s got to be here on this day at this time and there on that day at that time and is he writing all this down because he’s going to be responsible for getting Liam there too since Noel’s going ahead this time. 

They go down to London for a few days, record a few new versions of songs and one demo of a new song that Noel’s written but isn’t sure about yet. As soon as he’s heard Liam’s vocals on it, though, his eyes light up, and Calum files the bassline away, because he knows it’s going to be on the next album now, no matter how much Noel’s pretending to hum and haw about it. He can’t fucking let Liam have anything, though, so when Liam comes out of the live room, bright-eyed and desperate for Noel’s affirmation, Noel curls his lip and tells him that sounded fucking shite, Christ, you’re almost as useless as Tony. It culminates in a huge fight that Calum and Bonehead manage to duck out of before it begins, only finding out about it when they get woken by a sombre-looking Alan in the middle of the night and informed they’re all being kicked out of the hotel because Liam’s trashed the bar and Noel’s chucked a TV out of the window of his room that landed on the hotel manager’s car.

They play their first show in America on the 21st - their first show outside of Europe - and it goes well. Noel’s not impressed by the country, having toured there with the Inspirals half a decade earlier, but the rest of them are in fucking awe, and Calum catches tiny, fond smiles playing on Noel’s lips when he sees Liam staring at the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building, lips parted and eyes wide. 

Noel’s finally managed to get his way on Live Forever too, it seems, because they’re shepherded into Central Park a few days later, half of them hungover and half of them still blind drunk, to film a video. The director seems to be even fucking higher than they are, because he comes up with ideas like Liam singing while sitting on a chair nailed to a wall, and the band take it upon themselves to start suggesting ever more ludicrous ideas, just to see what sticks. Liam throws in chucking a bucket of water over Bonehead, and Calum suggests burying the drum kit, and Noel goes why don’t we just bury the fucking drummer? The director thinks that’s a fucking brilliant idea, inspired, creative, and Noel shoots Calum a look and says wow, is that how easy this is? You just fucking randomly suggest nonsense and people just go and film it?  

(He doesn’t bother showing up for most of the second day of filming, and Calum can’t really blame him.) 

They fly back to the UK and play another festival on the 31st of July, and as Calum passes by one of the posters on the way to the stage he does a double take, because Blur are on there. Liam sees him looking, though, and taps the top of the poster wordlessly as he walks past - Sat 30th July. Calum can’t help the way his stomach sinks at that. Michael was here yesterday, and Calum’s here today. Maybe that’s a sign, he thinks. Maybe fate is trying to tell him something.

Live Forever comes out in early August, and people fucking love it. Calum’s getting stopped in the street in fucking Wolverhampton - Wolverhampton - and asked to sign autographs, which makes his head spin. They’re really fucking making it now, he thinks, when he calls his mum from a payphone and she tells him that they’ve had people turning up at the door asking for interviews. This is what the rise to the top feels like, powered by coke and booze and Noel's guitar. 

They play a festival in Sweden which sees Noel, Liam and Bonehead smashing up a hotel bar with the guys from Primal Scream, who they’d met at T in the Park, and Richard Ashcroft, who they’ve known for years, and once again Calum’s woken up in the middle of the night and informed that they’ve been asked to leave - not just the hotel this time, but the country. He’s driven to the police station where Bonehead, Liam and Noel are being held, and has to stand with the harsh lights hurting his eyes while Alan tries to hash things out with the Swedish police, and then the three fucking delinquents come stumbling out, grinning and reeking of alcohol. 

("Are you trying to get arrested in every single fucking country we visit?" Calum asks Liam, as they make their way to the car.

"No," Liam says, "but that's a fucking mega idea, that." 

Shit.)

They have to film another music video in August, but since it’s for Cigarettes & Alcohol Marcus at the record label lets them bargain the video down from a full on shoot to the filming of a live gig at the Borderline in London and hiring a few pretty faces to mingle with them backstage. It’s not bad, Calum thinks, as Liam hands him a beer and grins drunkenly for the cameras. Slap a fucking black and white filter on it and it’ll look almost intentionally dingy. 

A week after that, the album comes out. 

Calum hadn’t really realised what album releases would entail, but apparently, it’s a lot of fucking interviews. The first few are quite exciting - they’re still not that used to interviews; a few radio shows, a few TV shows, the odd magazine - but after days on end of answering the same questions hour after hour, Calum starts joining Liam for his hourly smoke breaks, just for something to liven the mood. 

They play a show in London the day the album comes out, and Calum finds himself scanning the screaming crowd for blonde hair, pale skin, sea-green eyes, a pretty smile, but Michael’s not there. Calum hadn’t really expected him to be - it’s a small venue, and apparently it’s been sold out for weeks - but it doesn’t stop him feeling disappointed all the same, having to turn to the back of the stage for a minute to collect himself. Tony shoots him a strange look over his hi-hat, but doesn’t say anything, and Calum sends up a quick prayer of thanks that it was Tony and not Noel that had noticed. 

The album goes gold in three days - the fastest-selling debut album in British history - but they barely even have time to celebrate because they’re heading to Sweden again the next day and Alan tells them with an unusually stern expression that he’s had to twist a lot of arms to get them back in and they’re absolutely fucking not allowed to get drunk or high or fight anybody until they’ve been in and out of Sweden. Liam moans and bitches about it but accepts reluctantly, spending the entire journey to Sweden yawning and rubbing his eyes and making sleepy conversation until he falls asleep on Noel’s shoulder. 

The show in Sweden goes off without a hitch, and they’re in Dublin the next day - their first Irish show - and the brothers go fucking mental. Calum joins in for a bit but can’t keep up; two Irish Mancunians in Dublin is far too much for his Australian stomach to handle. Belfast is no better, and the day after that they play the Haçienda in Manchester - one of the most famous clubs in their hometown - and after the three-day-binge even the Gallaghers are worn out and sleep for the majority of the two days they have off before heading to Europe and then to Japan. 

Japan is fucking insane. Fans are swarming around them the minute they step off the plane, drunk off the free little bottles of booze, and the crowd sings their songs back at them louder than any English fans ever have done. Calum’s glad he’s not singing, because he gets choked up when Liam steps away from the microphone for a second during Live Forever and the crowd scream did you ever feel the pain in the morning rain as it soaks you to the bone? He sees Liam’s eyes widen, sees the way he swallows before starting the chorus, sees the way his gaze flits to Noel and they hold each other’s gazes for a split second, something that only the two of them can read in it, and his heart swells with pride and love. God, he fucking loves his job, he loves the music, he loves his band, he loves the fans, he fucking loves it all. 

They’re riding off the high of Japan when they get to America again, due to play a whole host of shows throughout the rest of September until the end of October, when it all goes wrong. 

They’re not made for America, Calum thinks. They gets thrown out of a radio show for swearing live on-air; they get in a fight with the bouncers at some famous club in Hollywood; and one night in LA they even get a visit from the police, who arrive with their guns drawn, because Bonehead won’t stop playing Supersonic with his amp on full volume at six in the morning. Noel cackles when he sees them and tells them to fucking go ahead, shoot the cunt, and Maggie, their poor, overworked, underpaid tour manager, rushes out in her pyjamas and bargains with the police, tries to smooth things over. Calum thinks that’ll be it, that’ll be the big story of the tour, but it’s all overshadowed when they get to the Whisky a Go Go, some famous club that they’re told repeatedly it’s an honour to be playing. 

Oasis being Oasis, they’re looking for coke. Someone procures a bag of white powder at soundcheck, and Liam grabs it greedily and starts cutting it into lines as the rest of the band circle around it like vultures, and as it goes up Calum’s nose he thinks fucking hell, this feels a bit fucking different. He shrugs it off, though, and hands the rolled up dollar bill to Bonehead - maybe American coke’s just stronger.  

It hits him like a fucking train. He’s buzzing with the kind of energy that he’s never had from coke before, higher than he’s ever been before, more euphoric, feels fucking unstoppable, but there’s a dirty edge to it, something gritty and nasty that he just doesn’t like. It’s too late, though, because it’s gone down, and he thinks fucking hell - well, at least it’ll wear off in about half an hour.  

It doesn’t. 

He’s sweating, heart pounding in his chest, vision sharp and blurry at the same time when they get on stage. Everyone else seems to be in a similar situation - Bonehead’s eyes are wide and flitting left to right, right to left, and Liam’s jittery and bouncing on his heels. Noel’s somewhere else completely - he starts playing fucking Bring It On Down when the rest of them start up with Fade Away, and he plays the solo of Supersonic during Cigarettes & Alcohol. They have to play Roll With It one-and-a-half times, because Calum’s bass amp explodes a minute in, and Liam starts shouting at the audience after a crowdsurfer knocks his mic stand over, and then starts shouting at Noel for fucking God knows what, yelling at him to fuck off, until he launches his tambourine at Noel, hitting him on the shoulder, and storms offstage as the set ends. 

Calum heads off dazedly, trying to slow his pounding heart and thinking fucking hell, what the fuck was in that coke? The brothers are still yelling at each other backstage, pupils dilated and faces red, and don’t stop yelling as they’re herded into a car to get back to the hotel, are still screaming at each other as Maggie ushers them up the stairs and into their separate hotel rooms. They each shout a venomous fuck you, you fucking cunt at each other before slamming their doors, and Calum, who’s due to room with Liam that night, decides he’d rather sleep on Bonehead and Tony’s floor than brave that. 

He can’t fucking sleep, though. The high just doesn’t stop. He’s so wired, feels so fucking strung out and awful, barely cognisant of what’s going on around him but hyperaware at the same time and he just wants to fucking sleep, just wants to rest. He can’t, though, and neither can Bonehead or Tony, and they just pace around the room, vibrating with energy, muttering what the fuck do they do to the coke over here, eh? every few minutes. 

Time passes so fucking slowly, every minute inching by painfully, and by the time it’s morning Calum’s starting to finally, finally come down. He feels semi-human by the time the knock on their door for breakfast comes, and wrenches it open, still dressed in last night’s clothes, to find a serious-looking Maggie, a crease between her brows. 

“What?” he says, because he knows, he just knows something’s happened. 

“Noel’s left,” she says. Oh. Well. That’s hardly grounds for a face like that. 

“Will he be back for soundcheck?” Calum asks. 

“He’s gone, Calum.” 

“What d’you mean, he’s gone?” Calum’s not quite getting it.

“He asked for his passport and some money,” Maggie says. “And he’s gone.” Calum stares at her. Noel can’t be gone. He might have left, sure, but he can’t have gone.

“Wha’s tha’?” Bonehead calls groggily, from across the room. He’d come down a few hours ago, managed to force himself to sleep, and he sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“Noel’s gone,” Maggie repeats, a little louder. Tony turns from where he’s sat in the corner of the room, twisting his fingers this way and that, eyes wide. 

“Gone where?” Bonehead asks.

“I don’t know,” Maggie says. 

“What d’you mean, you don’t know?” 

“He’s gone, Bonehead. Took his passport, took some money, and left.” There’s a moment of stunned silence. 

“Does Liam know?” Tony asks. Maggie bites her lip, and shakes her head. 

“I thought I’d tell you first.” 

“Shit,” Bonehead breathes. “He’s gone? ” Maggie nods. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Suitcase and all.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck.  

“Oh, fuck,” Calum mutters, and sits down on the bed. “He’ll come back, though, won’t he?” 

“I don’t know,” Maggie admits. “He sounded pretty certain about it.” 

“Why the fuck did you let him go?” Bonehead demands. 

“I can’t hold him hostage, can I?” Maggie says. “He’s fucking twenty-seven years old.” 

“Shit,” Tony says. “Oh, God. Shit. ” 

“I’m going to tell Liam,” Maggie says, sounding a little nervous about it. She probably should be, Calum thinks distantly, staring unblinkingly at the carpet. Noel’s gone.  

“I’ll come with you,” he finds himself saying, more for Liam’s sake than Maggie’s. He stands up robotically, completely on autopilot, and follows her out of the room, leaving Bonehead and Tony in shocked silence. 

Liam answers his door on the first knock, already awake and showered, and his face falls when he sees it’s not Noel. Oh, God. The kid’s going to be fucking beside himself. 

“Can we come in?” Maggie says, aiming for sweet. Liam’s eyes narrow. 

“What’s happened?” he says. Maggie hesitates. 

“Noel’s gone,” she says softly, after a moment. 

“Where to?” 

“He’s gone, Liam,” Calum says. The words feel strange on his lips. Noel can’t be gone, not now, not when they’re finally getting somewhere. Not without fucking saying anything to them. 

“Where?” 

“We don’t know,” Maggie says, still gentle, still kind, still trying to soften the blow. Liam looks about five years old, damp hair plastered to his face, eyes wide and shining with something that looks like fear, maybe, or loss, or rejection. Or maybe all of them with a sheen of anxiety. 

“Fuck,” he says, but he doesn’t sound angry. “Is he going to be okay? Is he alright? Did you speak to him?” 

“He just asked for his passport and some money,” Maggie says. 

“But he’s okay?” 

“I- he seemed okay, yeah, but-”

“Okay,” Liam says, like he’s trying to steady himself. “When’s he coming back?” 

“I-” Maggie cuts herself off, and takes a deep breath. “I think he’s gone for good, Liam.” 

Calum can see it, the moment it registers in Liam’s mind, sees it in the way his eyes widen and his lips part, in the panic that rises in his eyes. 

“He’s not,” Liam says, like he’s trying to convince himself. “He wouldn’t fucking do that.” 

“He’s gone,” Maggie says again, softer than before, and then reaches inside her coat pocket. “He left you a letter.” Liam stares down at the folded envelope in her hand, and then snatches it and shuts the door in both of their faces. 

They stand there for a moment, and then Maggie turns to Calum. 

“Well,” she says, like she’s bracing herself. “That could’ve gone worse.” 

“Yeah,” Calum says vaguely, still staring at the door. 

It couldn’t be worse, though. 

  -------

  Alan tells them not to worry, for the first few days. Noel’s disappeared before, and he’s quit before, and he always comes back. 

So they try not to worry. Bonehead starts drinking at eleven in the morning, and Calum tries not to worry. Tony and Maggie have hushed conversations under their breath, and Calum tries not to worry. Liam doesn’t leave his room, and Calum tries not to worry. 

They get a fucking bollocking about the gig from Alan, from Marcus, from fucking Maggie, even, but it feels hollow because they all know they’re not going to get the only bollocking that really matters - the one from Noel. They sit there silently while Alan rages about how embarrassing it was, while Marcus runs through numbers and statistics about sales and how they’re going to be affected, while Maggie gives them disappointed looks and says really, snorting meth hours before a concert, what were you thinking?  

Yeah. They’d snorted fucking meth. Some absolute fucking idiot - William John Paul Gallagher - had mistaken meth for coke. It’s why they were absolutely out of their fucking minds, why Calum hadn’t been able to sleep that night, and why Liam and Noel’s argument had been more ferocious than usual. It might also explain why all of this feels even more overwhelming than usual, why the comedown feels like it’s just not going away, why whenever Calum walks past Noel’s empty hotel room he feels like he’s suffocating. 

By the third day, even Calum’s at a loss. He’s been getting out of the hotel, going for long walks and getting lost and having to ask for directions to get back, standing by the sea and breathing in the salty air to try and clear his mind. He’s worried about Noel, more than anything - Noel doesn’t usually leave without saying anything, without getting the last word in, which is what makes this feel all the more real, like this is the time it’s going to stick. 

Although, Calum thinks, maybe Noel did get the last word. He’d written a letter to Liam, after all; maybe he’d said something in there about where he was going, what he was doing, something that makes this whole situation make any sort of sense. Maybe Liam knows something the rest of them don’t. 

He knocks on Liam’s door after he doesn’t show up for lunch again, and Liam answers, looking a little dishevelled, and a lot drunk. 

“What?” he says dully. 

“What did the letter say?” Calum asks. Liam stares at him for a minute, and then opens the door enough to let Calum walk in. 

The room’s a fucking tip. Liam’s clothes are strewn all over the floor - which, granted, isn’t exactly new - and Calum can see white powder residue on the coffee table, the desk, even the fucking bedside table. Next to the smudges of powder on the bedside table is the letter Noel had left, rolled up tightly, but creased all over. Liam’s been reading it, using it to snort drugs, smoothing it out and reading it again, rinse and repeat. 

Calum sighs, and sits down on the chair next to Liam’s bed, throwing him a doleful look. Noel’s Calum’s best friend, sure, and Calum’s not got a clue what to do without him, but he’s Liam’s brother. His flesh and blood, the boy who held Liam’s hand while he crossed the road, who nursed him through his first black eye, who writes songs with lyrics like please, brother, let it be, after a fight. Liam's never not had Noel looking out for him - through exasperation and curses and fists connecting with jaws, but there nonetheless.  Liam hasn’t got a chance without Noel.

Liam throws himself down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, and Calum puts his hand on Liam’s shin, fingers resting lightly against rough denim. I’m here, he’s trying to say, but it feels hollow to the both of them, because he’s not Noel. 

“What did he say?” Calum asks again. Liam stares up at the ceiling, blinks once, and then opens his mouth. 

“He told me he loved me,” he says. Calum’s stomach twists. That’s not a good thing, not from Noel. He’d never say that, least of all to Liam, unless what he was trying to say was goodbye. 

“Oh,” Calum says, and tries not to let the panic seep into his voice. “Did he say where he was going?” Liam shakes his head. 

“Just a bunch of shite about how can we be brothers anymore, blah blah blah,” he says, voice rising mockingly on Noel’s words. Anger works for Liam, especially where Noel’s concerned. It’s the only way he knows how to feel about Noel. “Can’t do this anymore, it’s not me it’s you, all that breakup bullshit.” 

“What about your mum?” Calum says, even though he knows the answer to that, because Alan’s been calling Peggy pretty much every hour. Liam shakes his head. 

“She’s fucking beside herself,” he says, fury licking at the edges of his tone. “I get doing it to me, up and leaving like that, because that’s us, innit, but to mam? I’ll fucking kill the prick myself if I ever see him again.” He doesn’t mean it, but Calum lets him pretend that they both believe it. 

“You should eat,” Calum says, after a moment of silence.

“Probably,” Liam says, to the ceiling. He blinks up at it one more time, and then rolls onto his side. 

“He’s a fucking cunt,” he announces, but he doesn’t sound convinced, and his voice wavers a little. Calum sighs and reaches his hand out, and Liam extends his own to lace his fingers with Calum’s, blinking at him with glassy, tired eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, and his voice is definitely wobbly now. “I didn’t mean to push him away. I love him.”

“I know,” Calum says, and squeezes Liam’s hand in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “He knows, too.”

“I wouldn’t’ve said it if I knew,” Liam says, swallowing hard. “I wouldn’t’ve been such a cunt.” 

“Yeah, you would’ve,” Calum says, but it’s not unkind. “That’s how you two are.” 

“Cain and Abel.” 

“Doesn’t Cain kill Abel?” 

“Isn’t Noel killing me?” Calum’s not really sure what to say to that. He supposes, in a way, Liam’s right. One of them’s got to fall off the tightrope at some point, and Liam’s never going to push Noel. And Liam would be all too happy to fall off, if it were for Noel.

“He needs you,” he says eventually. “He’s always needed you.” 

“Does he fuck,” Liam says flatly. 

“He’d never let anyone but you sing his songs,” Calum says. “That’s the highest praise you can get from Noel.” Liam’s silent for a moment, because he knows Calum’s right, and then he sighs again, loud and heavy.

“I’m hungry,” he says, and Calum closes his eyes in relief. "I want fish and chips."

“Order room service,” Calum suggests. Liam blinks at him. 

"Do they do fish and chips?"

"They will if you offer them enough money." Liam hums, like he's thinking about it.

“Will you stay?” he asks lowly. Calum hesitates, and then nods. 

“‘Course I will,” he says, and gives Liam’s hand another squeeze. Liam smiles at him, small but genuine. 

“Love you,” he says. Calum smiles back, soft and fond. 

“Love you too,” he says. 

“Enough to find me good fish and chips in LA?” Liam says hopefully, and Calum laughs. 

“Nowhere near enough for that,” he says, and Liam sighs dramatically, but he’s smiling too, which is the best Calum can hope for.

  -------

 A few hours later, while searching for a pack of cigarettes, Calum comes across the spare room key to Noel’s room that Noel had pressed in his hand wordlessly on their first night. Calum hadn’t really been sure what to make of it - was it an invitation for late-night songwriting, or the first acknowledgement of that night a few years ago either of them have ever made? - but it hadn’t even mattered, because Noel had left so soon anyway. 

He’s heading to the room before he’s even really thought about it, unlocking the door and taking in the too-empty, too-clean room. The bed’s been perfectly made by the staff, nothing like the slapdash job Noel usually does, and there’s no suitcase with clothes spilling out of it kicked in the corner of the room, no shoes strewn across the floor as Noel had kicked them off on his way to the bed. It’s almost overwhelming, to know that this room housed the decision that could end Calum’s career, and that this is the last connection he could ever have to Noel. It feels almost suffocating, like the walls are too big and too white for Calum, and he finds himself sitting down on the bed and reaching for the phone before he’s really thought through what he’s doing. 

He’d memorised the number, of course. He hadn’t really meant to; he’d just read the little scrap of paper so often that it had stuck. He barely even hesitates as he dials, chest so heavy with the crushing weight of the empty room, of the silence Noel's left in his wake. 

The phone rings four times and Calum doesn’t even realise his fist is clenched until there’s a click and a shuffling sound, and his fingers relax.

“Hello?” Michael sounds casual, relaxed, a little sleepy. Calum clutches the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” Michael repeats. 

“Michael.” He hears a sharp intake of breath. 

“Calum?” Michael says. “Aren’t you in America?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Fucking hell. You’d better make this quick, then.” He doesn’t hang up, though, which is something. Calum just listens to him breathing for a minute, not really sure what he actually wants to say, or if he wants to say anything at all. 

“Calum?” Michael says, jolting him back to reality. 

“Noel’s gone,” Calum says. 

“What d’you mean, he’s gone? Where?”

“Dunno.” There’s a pause.

“You lost your songwriter?” 

“He’s gone. Left.” Michael inhales deeply. 

“Where? Where’d he go?” 

“We don’t know.” Michael exhales. 

“Oh, Calum,” he says, and he sounds sorry and sad. Calum’s eyes flutter shut, trying to soak in the sound of his voice. 

“I-” Calum cuts himself off, because he doesn’t actually know what he’s trying to say. 

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, and he sounds like he means it. 

“Are you?” Calum can’t help but ask, a little bitterly. If Michael rang him and said Damon had left Blur, Calum would probably feel honour-bound to tell Noel. Or, he wouldn’t, now. Fuck. 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Michael says, tone a little hard. Calum puts his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you call me if you think that?” 

“I don’t know,” Calum says again, hearing the hopelessness in his own voice. “I just- I don’t know.” Michael sighs. 

“How’s Liam taking it?” he says. He’s trying, Calum can tell. He’s trying, for Calum’s sake. 

“Fucking terribly,” Calum admits. “Noel wrote him a letter.” 

“A letter?” 

“Yeah. A- a fucking, like, goodbye note, I don’t know. He’s a mess.” 

“Jesus.” Michael hesitates for a moment, and then adds: “What happened?” 

“Him and Liam had a fight,” Calum says. “And we played a fucking awful gig in LA.” 

“Don’t they fight all the time?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why this time, then?” Calum shrugs. 

“We did meth,” he says. 

“You- you did meth? ” Michael sounds horrified. “ Calum, fucking-” 

“We thought it was coke,” Calum says. 

“How the fuck- ” 

“I don’t fucking know, Liam’s a fucking idiot,” Calum says, even though he’d put the stuff up his nose too. 

“Fucking hell,” Michael breathes. “Alright. Jesus. And Noel just- just, what, took off?” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, gut twisting at the words. “Took his passport and some money and left.” 

“Passport?” Michael says. “Did he go home?” 

“No.” There’s a pause. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Calum agrees, and it sounds listless, but he means it with every fibre of his fucking being. 

“I’m sorry, Calum,” Michael says softly. Calum blinks at the wall. 

“Yeah,” he says again. “Thanks.” Michael sighs. 

“What are you going to do now?” he says. 

“I have no fucking idea,” Calum says, the words acrid in his mouth. What the fuck are they going to do now? None of the rest of them can fucking write, can they? Not like Noel, at least. 

“Are you going to finish the tour?” 

“I don’t know, Michael,” Calum says. All the questions are making his head hurt. He hasn’t even thought that far ahead, hasn’t really considered anything beyond where the fuck is Noel, I hope Noel’s alright, I’m going to fucking kill Noel. He doesn’t even know if they’d be allowed to play Noel’s songs - there’s got to be some kind of legal bullshit about royalties involved, hasn’t there? God, Noel’s always handled that stuff. Calum’s never read a fucking contract in his life, just signed where Noel told him to sign. Noel had been the one to sort out their management, to negotiate the record deal, to get the contracts for the tours. Who the fuck are Oasis without him? 

“Hey,” Michael says gently. “It’ll be alright.” 

“Will it?” 

“Yeah.” Michael has nothing to back his words up, no events or facts he can point to and say see, it’ll be fine, but somehow, Calum believes him. Maybe because he wants to believe him, with every scrap of his soul, or maybe just because it’s Michael. 

“Thanks,” Calum says, and it comes out tired. Michael just hums in response, and they lapse into silence. It’s not uncomfortable, though, not like the last time Michael had been at the other end of a phone line. They’re existing in tandem, and it feels like something slotting into a place that Calum didn’t know was empty.

“I can’t believe you did meth ,” Michael says after a while, in disbelief, and Calum can’t help the way his lips hitch up in a faint smile. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. 

“Y’know, the tabloids aren’t wrong about you,” Michael says, and there’s a smile in his voice too. He’s teasing Calum. “Always calling you a bunch of hooligans. Taking meth because you think it’s coke, fucking hell.” 

Calum huffs out a laugh, fingers curling around the receiver as his heart flips in his chest. Michael reads about him in the papers. 

“That’s just Liam,” he says. 

“So you weren’t deported from Sweden?” 

“Well-”

“Exactly,” Michael says, and Calum can hear him grinning.

“That was because of Liam,” Calum says. He pauses, and then adds: “And Noel. And Bonehead.” Michael laughs, soft and melodic, and for one split, giddy second Calum thinks fuck, I want to spend the rest of my life hearing you laugh. He’s sure he doesn’t mean it, though. It’s probably the fucking days-long comedown, and the fact he’s feeling Noel’s absence like nothing else. It's the first time he's heard someone laugh since Noel left, after all.

“I can’t believe that’s what I’m up against,” Michael says, and it’s still soft and amused, but Calum can hear the slight tinge of sadness to it. 

“Yeah,” Calum says, smile fading. “That’s your competition.” Michael exhales heavily, and Calum thinks they might be thinking the same thing. How did we go from us to competition?

“Why did you call me?” Michael asks. Calum’s fingers twitch against the phone. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I just- I don’t know.” He hesitates, and then adds: “Why did you call me? After Top of the Pops, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Michael says. He’d said the same thing two months ago. But, two months ago he hadn’t added what he does this time: “D’you really want to do this now?” 

“Do what?” Calum says. 

“Talk about this. Us. Now.” Calum swallows. 

“No,” he says. He never wants to talk about it. He wants to walk the edge of this precipice forever, doesn’t ever want Michael to say c’mon, let’s jump, because he doesn’t know what he’ll find at the bottom. He doesn’t know whether Michael’s just biding his time, waiting until they can have their big what happened to us? talk to say everything that he’s thought for the past five years, get it all off his chest, and then fuck off and leave. He’d be well within his rights to, Calum thinks, but that doesn’t stop the mere thought of it from making his heart ache. 

“Okay,” Michael says. “But we-” he’s interrupted by Calum and Liam’s door slamming open. Calum starts in surprise, phone slipping out of his fingers, and whips around to see Bonehead standing in the doorway.

“We’ve found him,” Bonehead says breathlessly. “He’s in San Diego.” 

“You’ve found him?” Calum repeats. “What? How?”

“Maggie got his phone bills and traced all the numbers,” Bonehead says. “Found one in San Diego. Remember that girl, whatsherface, Leah? Dunno, doesn’t matter, we’ve found him. ” 

“And?” Calum says, heart in his mouth. “Did you talk to him? Is he okay? Is he coming back?” 

“Yeah,” Bonehead says, grinning widely. “He’s coming back.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Calum mutters, stomach somersaulting. “Does Liam know?” Bonehead’s smile falters. 

“Yeah,” he says. Oh. Noel’s going to have fucking hell to pay. 

“Oh,” Calum says. Bonehead looks at him for a moment, both of them thinking the same thing - there’s going to be fucking fireworks - and then he grins again.

“Well,” he says, “at least we’ve got our fucking songwriter back, eh?” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, and laughs, a little lightheaded. Fucking hell. Noel’s coming back. 

“Bonehead!” he hears someone yell - Liam, he thinks - and Bonehead sticks his head back out of the door. 

“Aye?” 

“...go out...fish and chips...you ask Calum?” is all he can make out. Bonehead casts a glance over at Calum. 

“Fancy going out for tea?” he says. “Liam reckons he’s found a chippy.” Calum raises his eyebrows. Fucking hell. Might as well have one last supper before Noel gets back and all hell breaks loose. 

“Alright,” he says, and gets up to leave, making the phone clatter to the floor. He picks it up hastily, and Bonehead frowns at him. 

“Who’ve you been talking to?” he says. Calum clutches the receiver to his chest. 

“No one,” he says. “Was going to ring my mum.” Bonehead’s face doesn’t clear, and his eyes narrow, like he’s trying to work something out. Shit, it’s fucking three in the morning in England, isn’t it? Fuck. 

“Bonehead!” Calum hears Liam yell again, sounding more aggravated this time, and Bonehead sighs in exasperation and turns back around. 

“Fucking hell, who the fuck are you, my missus?” Bonehead yells back. “I”m fucking coming, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” 

“I’ll just-” Calum motions at the bed vaguely, hoping it’ll come across like he’s got some final organising to do - fucking make the already-pristine bed, or something, anything to make Bonehead leave so he can hang up on Michael - and Bonehead just nods, already halfway out of the door and on his way to Liam. 

Calum brings the receiver back up to his ear, ready to make some excuse to Michael, but all he hears is a dial tone. 

Michael’s already gone. 

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chapter five