#but it came the best possible day because i've been listening to Mother's Song from the movie Wolf Children on LOOP today

[hamstyandfriends]

Inktober #19: Plump

Female character (Shady <3) belongs to @lovejoysoots !!^^

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, January 1st, 2025.

End of Year Survey

First things first, did you have a good year? I did. It was not without its challenges and setbacks, but overall I made a lot of progress.

How old did you turn this year? Thirty-five.

Do you feel your age? I don't feel my age at all. I still feel very much like a child posing as a adult and praying no one figures it out.

Did your appearance change in anyway? My skin has cleared up considerably, I've gained a little weight, and I might carry myself with a bit more confidence…but in the grand scheme of things, no. Aside from the fact that my hair is a bit shorter due to a recent buzz cut, my appearance has remained pretty similar to what it was last January.

Post your favorite selfie. I really only posted a few selfies...but here's one from early 2024.

If you traveled, where did you go? I didn't do any significant traveling. The farthest I went was to the Mountain Park.

Which fashion trends did you love? I don't pay much attention to current fashion trends. My tastes have more or less remained the same for years.

Which fashion trends did you hate?

What was your favorite article of clothing this year? Post a pic if possible? Probably this pine green sweater I got from the animal shelter.

What song sums up this year for you? No particular song. Just a lot of classical music. Also, late in the year, kind of as a joke, Hoist The Colors High. Found it through those North Sea Oil Rig shorts on YouTube and applied it to my own perils in weighing Cleo, one of the feistiest cats at the shelter. I was also sent a video by Ollie shortly after that, I believe it was of some vet techs, involving a dramatic knighting ritual before attempting to corral a loose feral cat. I was just like--SAME ENERGY. Lol clearly we were all on the same wavelength.

What album came out and has been on heavy rotation since then? It didn't come out this year, but the only album I have listened to all the way through in 2024 would be Precession by Fifty Dollar Dynasty.

What was your favorite movie of the year? I only saw a few movies, but out of those, I would say Wild Robot. Hit me right in the "complicated mother and child relationship" spot.

Did an actor/actress catch your attention for the first time this year? Not in any meaningful way.

Favorite new TV show? I don't watch TV. As far as YouTube channels are concerned, I can't think of anything major… I did just recently stumble upon a channel called Holdfast Alaska, though, which is about homesteading in the Alaskan Wilderness. And maybe Space Matters. Just another space facts channel to aid me in falling asleep.

Which new ship/fandom has taken over a lot of your time, attention, and tears? Just the same old ship I've been sailing since sometime around 2008. :')

What food did you try for the first time? I guess some variation of eggnog.

Did you make any big permanent changes this year? I increased my volunteer hours over the summer to include some full days. I also feel like the past year has changed me in ways I can't quite put into words. Not in the sense that those changes are now static - because they are still very much evolving - but in the sense that I can't go back to the person I was prior to those experiences.

What was one nice thing you did for someone else? I tried to stick up for Kristen during that whole Alex situation. I don't know how effective it was and there was probably a better way to go about it, but it was a complicated and confusing position to be in and I did the best I could.

What was one nice thing you did for yourself? Just generally tried to make time for myself, my needs, and my hobbies, even if that meant taking an extra day off here and there. Went on quite a few trips to the Mountain Park. Etc.

Did you develop a new obsession? I got back into taking surveys…?

Did you vote? Yeah.

Did you move? No, but I might have if that apartment voucher thing hadn't fallen through at the last minute. I was so excited to move into my own little place, but maybe where I am now is for the best.

Did you get a job? I was offered a job at the animal shelter around the time Alex and Cassie left, but I wasn't quite ready to accept it. I do think I will be ready the next time there's an opening, though. As ready as I'll ever be, anyway. At some point, I just need to be brave and take the plunge, come what may.

Did you get a pet? No, but we did agree to take in a kitten if his owners couldn't be found - which they eventually were. Now that really was for the best because I think that sweet little kitten would have driven poor Lacy insane. Esther and Karenna would have adjusted, but not her. I think he would have stressed her to death.

Do you regret not doing anything? I'm going to answer this question and the next one together because they're very much linked. I regret instances of speaking up as well as NOT speaking up (sooner? in a more constructive way? etc).

Do you regret doing something?

Have you done anything that scared you? I have started to ever so sloooowly let people in just a litttttle bit more. Nothing drastic. Maybe just a few bricks taken out of my guarded fortress of an existence. But yeah. Gotta start somewhere, I suppose.

Did anyone/thing make you so mad it stayed with you for days? Yeah.

Did you lose anyone close to you? I didn't.

Did you fall in love? No.

Did you fall out of love? No.

Did you start a new relationship? Do friendships count? I think I'm starting to form the beginnings of a friendship with Riley.

Did you go through a break up? Nope.

Did you have to cut ties to someone? I thought I would have to cut ties with my mom again after what happened in September. I know I've been consistently vague regarding what went down, but it doesn't feel like my story to tell. It's also not something I really want out there on the internet. Suffice it to say that I was dragged into the position of feeling like I might have to choose between her and my dad and - if push came to shove - I would have remained loyal to my dad.

Who was important to you this year but wasn’t important last year? The closest fit would be my mom. It's not that she wasn't at all important last year, but we had only recently reconciled and I was still keeping her at a significant emotional distance. I'm still trying to figure out how far I want to let her in, but I feel a lot more warmth and affection for her than I did in the beginning.

Who wasn’t as important to you this year as they were last year? Can't think of anyone.

If you could have a do over on one thing you did, would you take it? Naw. I don't think it would really change much.

What was the best moment of the year for you? The volunteer appreciation dinner in April. The fundraising event in July. Increasing my hours. When Alex finally left. All the trips to the Mountain Park. Just spending time with my dad and my cats in general. A gradual improvement in my energy levels. Achieving more food freedom. Getting into baking. All the awesome little gifts I received for Christmas (it wasn't even about the gifts themselves - it was more about realizing how many people cared and thought enough of me to do such a thing). Growing closer to my mom. Any day that felt filled with peace, hope, and accomplishment. Etc.

What was the worst? When the apartment stuff fell through. Dealing with Alex. The family drama.

Did anything happen that you were sure would change you as a person but it really didn’t? I initially thought the family drama would affect me more than it did. It was some extremely heavy stuff, but…hmm. Maybe it's the sort of thing that creeps up on you over time rather than all at once. Idk.

Did anything happen to you that you were sure wouldn’t change you as a person but it did? Not really. But I can say that change has been hard to measure except in large chunks of time. Day by day, it feels like nothing much is happening, but when I look back, it's obvious that I'm handling way more than I thought I could at the beginning of the year.

What are you most proud of accomplishing? Just sticking with it. Not just one thing, but all of it - volunteering, driving, socializing, art, therapy, etc.

What have you learned about yourself this year that you didn’t know in the years prior? I'm much more capable and competent than I think I am.

Did your opinion of anyone change for the better? Yeah. Or it mellowed, became more complex in a good way, whatever.

Did your opinion of anyone change for worse? Yeah.

If you make resolutions, did you complete them this year? My main resolutions were to work on my eating disorder and to try to love myself more. My eating disorder is no longer as much of a crutch of identity and safety as it once was, but there's still work to be done. As for loving myself…yeah…I'm still struggling with that.

If you make resolutions, what will your resolutions be for the coming year? Gonna have to go with self-love yet again. I don't think I was as focused on it as I could have been. Maybe if I make it more intentional, then something will finally click. As for everything else, just keep improving. Hopefully get that job at the shelter.

If you could go on an adventure during the remaining days of the year, where would you go and what would you do? Who would you go this? Too late!

What do you wish for others for the coming year? Idk. Whatever they want or need most.

What do you wish for yourself? Same, I guess. To experience whatever is for my highest good.

[heeheesang]

xoxo cupid crush

ep. 3

scary

"so, you and sunwoo huh?" haerim asks with a smirked plastered on her face as i closed my locker, she's been saying that ever since sunwoo saved me from getting beaten up, it's been a whole week.

"haerim, we're friends. he helps me and i help him," i announced to the two in front of me as we started walking to class, "yeah sure... but why're you so awkward around his friends?"

"they kinda scare me, they look at me with those eyes you know? it's really, intimidating." i opened the door to class and almost bumped into someone who was heading out.

"oh my days, i'm sorry!" i quickly ducked my head and headed straight to my seat. i wasn't late today, mainly because the three of us had a sleepover at haerim's house and her mother drove us to school.

"intimidating? like what?" haerim asked as soon as we sat down. "dude i don't know, they just scare me. they all talk crap about other people so like what if they talk crap about me too?" i asked and scratched my arm, a habit i always did whenever i felt anxious.

"i'm sure they don't, i've seen the way—"

"jang yeongji!" sunwoo and his two friends suddenly made their way to me, sunwoo trying to hold them back but they suddenly came to my table and laughed a little before my whole life flashed before my eyes.

"so you're thinking of dropping out of school?" one of them, the english speaker, asked me and my jaw dropped, thankfully i was using a mask.

"you're dropping?!" haerim and yujin yelled in confusion and i stood still, looking down at my lap as the teacher came in and started her lesson.

how would he know..? i only posted that in my close twitter page that has haerim, wonyoung, yujin, hyuck, and sunwoo. of course it was him, he's in my twitter page, of course he would spill everything to his friends.

"are you okay?" haerim asked and placed her hand on my shoulder, i nodded and took in a deep breath before paying attentiom to the rest of class.

soon enough, the class bell rang and it was break time. we had break for three hours today since one of the classes got cancelled so i bought food and brought it to the dance studio open for students. as soon as i finished eating, i tied my hair up in a quick bun and played songs to warm up a little.

hae : hey, yujin & i know you're stress dancing but please take it easy on yourself. we'll meet you outside the dance studio and we'll go to class together <3

yujin : ^^ take care of yourself ji, maybe we can talk about that another day okay? <3

sunwoo : yeongji

sunwoo : i'm sorry, i didn't know they looked at my phone

sunwoo : i was sleeping and they probably sneaked in my house to prank me or something but i think i left my phone unlocked

sunwoo : i'm sorry, please get back to me as soon as possible :(

my phone rang multiple times as i danced my heart out, soon enough tangling my own legs and falling down, wincing as my whole body hit the floor. i let out a few tears and sobs before just laying down on my bag and listening to songs while reading a book i had written but never told anyone about it.

soon enough, someone knocked on the door and i sat up immediately, pretending to fix my hair.

"sorry~ we're here to practice," it was some of sunwoo's friends, their names are changmin, juyeon, and hyunjae.

"it's fine, i was just resting at the side..." my voice grew softer as they started dancing and they were actually really good. especially changmin, he was the chairman of dance club anyway and i was co-chairman.

"how was that?" changmin asked as soon as they ended and made eye contact with me through the mirror.

"it's really good, never seen anybody dance to tempo that well except for exo themselves." i said, clapping a little before changing my attire at the small changing room at the side of the dance room and coming back just to sit at my same spot.

"thank you, we worked really hard~~" juyeon said as he collapsed on the floor next to me and drank his water.

"no kidding, that's one of the best dances i have ever seen." i complimented and they all formed a circle around me.

"i heard what happened with eric, haknyeon and sunwoo. i apologise on eric's behalf, he's really... reckless." hyunjae said as i let out a soft and short laugh of relieve, "no problem, now the whole class knows my plans for the future." i said sarcastically.

"do you really plan on dropping? whose gonna be my co-chairman?" changmin pouted and i hit his shoulder playfully, "you have juyeon!"

"no thanks, you're the only one who can handle changmin's sudden change of emotions..." juyeon defended himself.

"did sunwoo say anything?" hyunjae asked.

"he just apologised and asked me to text him asap." i replied and they all nodded.

we continued talking and had fun until haerim and yujin came to pick me up and go to class together. can't wait to spend another dreadful hour in biology (sarcasm)

ep. 2 | ep. 4

masterlist

[bardofsomerset]

Allison Russell at Omeara, Part Two: Live and Singing

Previously, in Part One, I was introduced to the music of Allison Russell and made the big decision to go to London and see her in concert. This caused me to reminisce on all the other concerts I've seen, hence, Part Two, with even less Allison Russell in concert than the first part.

Maybe it’s because my taste in music leans so heavily to before I was born, but going to watch live gigs has always seemed a rare and special thing. I’m never going to get to see Nina Simone or Dusty Springfield or Ella Fitzgerald in the flesh. When I saw Cleo Laine for the first time, she was in her eighties (having lost absolutely nothing of that voice) and I was the youngest person in the audience by a few decades.

That’s been a bit of a recuring theme since my first ever concert (not including musicals, which play a bit differently), seventeen years before I ventured out to see Allison Russell. When I took my seat in front of Joan Armatrading’s stage, I was very aware that I was possibly the only child in a room full of adults.

(Well, technically Joan Armatrading was the second concert, but as the first one started an hour and a half late and we had really bad seats, I don’t count it as a full experience.)

Joan Armatrading…there was no first listen to Joan Armatrading. Those melodies crawled into my ears while I was still in the womb, and they’ve been floating through my body ever since. She’s my mother’s favourite, has been ever since the 1970s heyday of Back to the Night and, of course, the eponymous album that introduced the world to “Love and Affection”, the song you probably know best:

I hear that opening and I’m a child again, home and safe and certain of the shape of the world. Funny, really, when uncertainty is part of the fabric of the song. It’s not music I “discovered”, there was no moment when it found me, but that makes it important in a whole different way. It’s how I grew with it, when the lyrics stayed the same but something changed in the way I listened; how every subsequent replay remade what I thought I knew.

It’s probably fair to say Mum was more excited than me as she directed the car through the growing evening darkness of 13th October 2005 and took us into Bristol. Yeah, there was some budding anticipation, but after that failed first gig I didn’t really understand. I could be sitting comfortably at home and still hear my favourite songs. I liked Joan Armatrading, but not in the way Mum did. How could I, without all those decades of following her, without those songs echoing through all the days of my life? You can trace the history of a person in their album collection, but I was barely a teenager. I hadn’t had time to build musical connections like that.

Plus, there was the fact that my literary analysis wasn’t quite at the level it is today. Joan Armatrading is a poet, and not one who explains her every thought and feeling to you. She wraps mysteries around her lyrics, leads you in and leaves you to draw from them what you will. Back then, I still didn’t have a clue what it all meant (I mean, I’m not going to say I understand it perfectly now, but I can see silhouettes and build something meaningful around them). It can be hard to fully appreciate something that you don’t understand.

Did preschool me hearing “Drop the Pilot” for the first time have any comprehension of a bogey outside of something that came out of your nose? Nope. Did I have the faintest conception that the titular “Rosie” might be a man in lipstick and heels? Not at all. I just knew I liked the songs with a faster rhythm, the ones where I could sing along with enthusiasm. “Drop the Pilot” is still one of my favourites, and that’s partly because I remember how it felt as a child, and partly because I can hear it now in a way that was impossible back then.

There was no sitting up in the gods this time like that failed first concert, we were right there in the front row, knees to the stage and almost in the centre (a feat that wouldn’t be repeated until 2014, when my parents finally bought me tickets to see Elaine Paige, after previously missing her twice. That evening took me through every show she’d ever played, every character I’d never had the chance to see, where every slight hunch or stretch of her shoulders was all that was needed to turn the actress who sings into someone completely new).

Any worries about disappointment vanished the moment Joan Armatrading took her place.

I may have preferred the more up-tempo tunes when I was little, but on that night, sat in what was still known as the Colston Hall, before renovations and renaming rebirthed it as the Bristol Beacon, it wasn’t “Drop the Pilot” that hit me most. It got me, don’t get me wrong, I think pretty much every song landed twice as heavy as I’d ever heard before; in that way that only happens when you and the singer are barely a breath apart, but the moment of the night was one I hadn’t remotely expected.

By the time we reached that point, I’d already seen tunes that I thought I recognised shimmering with a new kind of life. I’d journeyed through songs that were completely unfamiliar, but that settled as old friends by their final note. My ears had opened to the jokes and backstory woven between the music, the phrases delivered in that Birmingham accent, until it was suddenly clear to me that the disembodied voice coming through my speakers for so many years was actually a real human being. Just like the rest of us, except there was that melody, that talent, so far beyond my imagination.

It couldn’t have been better. That’s what I thought, but it turned out there was another space I didn’t even know needed to be filled. When the end was rolling close, but the audience wasn’t ready for her to leave, that’s when Joan Armatrading decided to sing “Willow”:

“Willow” wasn’t one of my quick and bouncy tunes where I already liked to sing along. I wasn’t yet at the point in my life where I could dig into its deeper meaning. When it started to play, I didn’t even know the words. It was immediately clear that everyone else did, so all I could do was listen to them, and to her.

I knew by this point that Joan Armatrading was a poet, but somehow that was the moment where it became real to me, when her voice and theirs drew out those shapes from the lyrics. I could hear it in the thunder, see it illuminated in the edge of the lighting, wrap myself in the softening storm. “Willow” was shelter from everything else in the world, leaving nothing but us. Everyone was singing along, even me, and I still didn’t know the words exactly. It just felt right.

It was the first time I realised that a concert isn’t you watching them. It’s them sharing with you. It’s you giving back. For so many of the people in that audience, it wasn’t just that moment but all the memories that accompanied it, reliving every replay since the original 1977 release. I found myself joining them in a place they created before I was born. It was learning not just the lyrics, repeated in every chorus, not just the melody, poured nectar-like over the congregation, but also how to experience the song as a living thing.

I’ve seen Joan Armatrading twice more since then, first at Warwick Arts Centre (one of the great advantages of attending the University of Warwick was having that right there on campus) with two brilliant supporting acts – part of her mission to bring attention to the local talent who it’s sometimes easy to miss, in this case Jamie Sheerman and Chris Wood  – and once again she fed her distinctive lines of humour between some of the most beautiful love songs ever written. Now I was finally in a place to hear “Dry Land” (one of that small cluster of early songs that weren’t hers alone, but with lyrics by Pam Nestor) and “The Weakness in Me”. I was ready to wonder how I ever missed their depth before.

Second was at my old friend the Playhouse, right at home in Weston-super-Mare. That was when she was scaling down her touring and it was just her on the stage, an entire band within one woman’s fingers. There was nothing between her and us. She made the switching between instruments look so easy, and she crafted those songs into whole new shapes yet again.

In between, I heard the way other musicians, famous and important and influential ones, talked about her, the way they all honoured her with such boundless respect. I watched the documentary, the one about how in the 1970's no one had seen or heard anything like her before, and that’s still true today, about all those poor, confused white, male record execs who saw a black woman who wasn’t singing blues or jazz or soul and didn’t have a clue how to respond, whilst she just kept on doing her own thing and the listeners kept finding her, because you might not be able to describe Joan Armatrading’s music in relation to anything else, but you know it’s something special. By the time I was in my twenties my appreciation was on a whole new level. Small me couldn’t have conceived of it.

When I was at uni, Joan Armatrading became one of the artists I played as an antidote to homesickness. She just reminded me of listening with my mum. She was top of a list of singers that also included Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits and Elkie Brooks. Other than Tom Waits, I’ve had the immense privilege of seeing all of them live.

Leonard Cohen I saw twice (July 2009 in Liverpool, September 2013 in Cardiff), and both times he seemed so bemused that we’d all made the effort just to go and listen to him. He took off his hat and pressed it to his heart, ever the gentle romantic, a poet who sang whilst his backup, including the Sublime Webb Sisters (his description) turned the occasional surprise cartwheel and band members, including the man he called “maestro of the wind”, played along. He rendered the full version of “Hallelujah”, the proper one, no verses cut and no meaning lost, enough to silence the drone of all those inescapable covers (I once had to watch a performance of “Hallelujah” by a choir of teenagers in a Christmas concert. It didn’t have quite the same weight), and he sang all the melodies I try to press on people when they complain Leonard Cohen’s music is depressing. Who hears “Anthem” or “If It Be Your Will” and feels anything less than hope? As for all when he asked that audience to see you naked, and made his vows of devotion, I’m pretty sure there was some actual swooning amongst his long-adoring fans. Even in two big arenas, not remotely intimate spaces, there was still a closeness that’s hard to describe.

Then there was Elkie Brooks, with that voice worn in over decades, with every new texture just elevating the whole. She’s going on her Long Farewell Tour in 2024 and beyond, so if you want to see her, now’s the time. I’ll definitely be there.

We saw her in Yeovil, at the Octagon (I think this was May 2010), a present to make up for missing her most recent appearance in Weston. She has this gift, Elkie Brooks, across all the genres, whether on her own or back with the woefully unappreciated Vinegar Joe. One moment you’re in a pub or bar, rowdy and rousing, dancing, probably on the table, with a glass in your hand. Then you stop, dead still, ears clinging to each lingering melody as she takes you to a club 1940-something where it’s long after dark and the music curls around you like smoke.

(Also, as I discovered when searching for the best videos to illustrate this section, she was once a cavewoman.)

When we saw her, she was half apologetic about the fact she had a new album out. It was just after the release of Powerless and, perfectly understandably, she wanted us to buy the CD. That meant she needed us to hear stuff like the title track and “Why”, which for someone still relatively new to all this were two absolutely beautiful songs, but for everyone else clearly didn’t have the weight of the classics. I can’t find it on YouTube, but her version of “I Can’t Make You Love Me” was the first I heard, and remains pretty close to Bonnie Raitt’s for me.

Elkie Brooks knew the new album was not the main reason her audience was here. She was very aware that most of them (this was another one of those concerts where I was a different generation to everyone else) had been loving “Lilac Wine” and “Pearl’s a Singer” for many, many years. They were going to need to be satisfied.

How do you keep a song alive on the hundredth time through? The thousandth? What’s left other than reciting it like a child with their times tables? Can you really find a new emotion every night, whilst still keeping the core that made people love it back then?

The answer was in her own personality, in the spaces where she found room for character and conversation. The knowing pause and raised eyebrow on “I drink much more than I ought to drink” in “Lilac Wine”, a moment that made us all chortle. Introducing “Pearl’s a Singer” and playing up her exasperation at just how many times she’d had to perform it. After all, its success took even her by surprise back in 1977. We couldn’t help but laugh again, just before she emphasised how she was going to need our help to work up her enthusiasm:

(Obviously not a concert version, but the closest I could find to how it was when I heard it.)

We obliged, hanging on that moment of stillness in the middle of the song before rushing into the acceleration. You could tell, through every moment of that gig, that Elkie Brooks was someone who’d lived her whole life on the stage, that she knew and understood every inch of it, so utterly comfortable with every shift in tone, with how she reached us and how we responded. There wasn’t a single moment when that connection wasn’t there, us and her and the music all together.

Which brings us back to Cleo Laine, who, as I mentioned, was in her eighties when I saw her. July 2009, I’d just finished the first year of my A-Levels and she was more than fifty years into her career as Britain’s greatest jazz singer. I swear if Cleo Laine was American, she’d regularly be mentioned in the same breath as Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan. That quite frankly ridiculous vocal range (four octaves? Five octaves? I’ve heard it debated, but either way, seriously?). That glorious scat singing (the whole video is worth watching, but go to 6.35 for when it starts getting really fun). The fact she decided to do an album of Shakespeare set to jazz. I mean, really, is it possible to design something more specifically to my taste?

If we’re talking concerts that were particularly special to me, not just my mother, then we have to talk about Cleo Laine. My mother still has a role to play (we share a lot more music than I do with my dad, though he’s probably the reason I like country, and he was also the one who stood next to me through the non-stop, three hours and no interval experience at Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium as Bruce Springsteen piled the energy higher and higher, until he sent off all his band and perched there at the end of the stage, just him and his guitar, playing “Thunder Road”). No, my mother was the one who bought me a Cleo Laine CD one day, having seen it at random in a shop, and told me she thought I’d like it. Being a teenager, I ignored her. That was very silly, as I discovered when I finally hit play.

Jazz doesn’t have to work as hard as other music to make me fall in love with it (don’t ask me to explain the technicalities of why that’s true. It’s not a conscious thing), but that CD wasn’t actually a particularly jazzy one. At Her Finest took the songs of some of the great songwriters: Billy Joel, Stevie Wonder, Stephen Sondheim, each of them so capable of creating an image, a story, an insight into our own nature, and it strummed them to that unmistakable, unsurpassed voice. Into this potent mix, Cleo Laine had added her own pen, painting lyrics over the rippling melody of “Cavatina” to create “He Was Beautiful”. What all those tracks had in common was a humanity, poured into words and music and feelings, that found its way deep inside you.

That first time I saw Cleo Laine live was in St George’s Hall, Bristol, where we’d also later see Curtis Stigers jazzing things up. It literally used to be a church, one small enough to hold everyone close. It was a most appropriate sort of venue for a divine experience. We were only a couple of rows back, right at the heart of it all, and it almost seemed she was staring directly at me as she sang. At other moments she didn’t forget to look up and to the sides, to the people tucked in at the edges who weren’t necessarily in the line of view. She was there for her audience. I had no doubt she saw every one of us.

The thing about someone having that much experience on the stage; they have so many stories. There’s nothing they haven’t seen, no escapade they haven’t enjoyed. Dame Cleo Laine and Sir John Dankworth were side by side, and their banter flitted between every song, the embodiment of a 50-year marriage and shared life between two people who understood each other’s music better as much or more than they did their own. They would be mocking each other one minute, then harmonising perfectly the next. She’d make fun of him, he’d menace her with his clarinet while she wasn’t looking. Behind them, shoulders curling around the deep, heavy voice of the double bass, their son Alec carried the family tradition in fine form.

They dusted every moment with fun and good humour, like they’d just invited us into their everyday lives. One time, as Cleo was introducing a song, she told us she’d first heard it sung by a lady (I can’t remember who and it’s really annoying me) who’d been 91 at the time. Still a decade away from that, despite being well past what most people would consider retirement age, with absolutely impeccable delivery, she explained, “It gave me great hope.”

On the other hand, when she sang “Sonnet 18”, or as you may know it, “Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day”, the world stopped.

Melody by John, lyrics by that Shakespeare guy. I mean, as Cleo herself said, if someone wrote you a poem like that, would you have any option but to fall in love?

The second time we saw her, a few years later, John was gone but the whole rest of the family was there, children and grandchildren: Jacqui, Alec and Emily, singing and playing along, and we were in their back garden at The Stables near Milton Keynes. A shared communion indeed.

We saw Jacqui Dankworth on her own once, back in Weston, just a few days before I left for uni. Cleo Laine had sung the classics, but this night was about something new, songs I’d never heard before. I could hear the similarities to her mother’s voice, and the differences too. She’d inherited something special, but despite the almost irresistible urge to compare, there was no denying she could stand alone. That was also my introduction to Charlie Wood, his piano dancing around her voice as they both fed off the other. They weren’t married yet, but the connection between them came alive in every note.

At uni, I saw Alec Dankworth with his Spanish Accents in the Warwick Arts Centre. Someone said to me once, and I think it might be true, that it’s impossible for a double bass to sound bad. No screeching, no wailing, none of those completely inexplicable noises that my saxophone sometimes decides to randomly make when I blow it. There’s just something about that deep, earthy rhythm that gets right into your blood.

Getting the CD of Back to You signed after Jacqui’s gig, she asked if I was a musician (I think it was because I was again on the young side of the audience and that was the most obvious reason for me to be there), always a slightly awkward question. Technically, I suppose, but not really how she meant. She also commented on my unusual name.

That’s another recurring theme at these events. Lesley Garrett (possibly the most exuberant singer in the world, and equally enthusiastic about encouraging my own singing), and Clare Teal (Yorkshire again, a voice so familiar from the radio, who’d introduced me to so much jazz, but who I’d only recently realised was a singer in her own right) would both say similar things. “That’s an unusual name.” “Are you a musician?” like there was anything comparable between me and them.

Of all the concerts that have been and could have been, of all the old favourites given new breath and surprise discoveries brought to life in the chamber of an auditorium, only one still seems like a dream, like something like that could never have happened. Aretha Franklin had given up on international tours long before I became a fan. There was no chance she’d be coming to the UK any time soon.

No, she wouldn’t come to me, but I did go to America in 2011, one year on a university exchange, from Warwick to Vanderbilt, from Coventry to Nashville. Flicking through the internet and seeing that Aretha Franklin was on a US tour and suddenly realising, “yes, I’m in the US.” Opening the list of dates and seeing “Ryman Auditorium, Nashville” and barely taking time to consider. I walked to the Ryman (I wanted to make sure it was an easy journey so I’d know I could do it on concert night) and I bought my ticket there and then, taking the opportunity to do a little tour of the building too. I didn’t realise quite how much history was in the Mother Church. Yet another religious experience hallowing the halls where music plays.

It was raining on the night, the weather was absolutely foul and I was not looking forward to trudging down Broadway, but it turned out one of my professors was going with her family and she offered to give me a lift. I had a very good seat, down and near the front, but frankly I could have been sat on the roof outside, right in the heart of the weather, and it still would have qualified as the experience of a lifetime.

I’ve been trying to construct a narrative for that evening, one that sums up every moment and emotion, the crowd of that stage with its band and more band and singers and dancers filling in every corner, the second piano they rolled on halfway through so she could play for us on the most beautiful (and longest) version of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” that’d I’d ever heard, the audience overflowing with love and her love in return, the fact that not a single word or note mattered in the face of that feeling, but I don’t think it exists. Could any description do it justice?

It’s a good place for music, Nashville. I realise you already know that, but I also saw Sonny Rollins while I was there (a very good reminder of what the saxophone is meant to sound like when I’m struggling myself), and I took in Memphis the Musical just weeks before I actually visited Memphis for the first time. A lot of fond memories accompanied that long year, despite the lonely moments and the homesickness.

There have been other concerts as well: the ancient energy of Clannad twisted into something cool and modern under the roof of Warwick Arts Centre, Natalie Williams at Ronnie Scott’s (as much about the venue as the music, fabulous as that was), Tony Bennett at the Royal Albert Hall and Sir Willard White at The Forum in Bath, barely a word spoken between those classic songs perfect phrased, Gladys Knight at the Royal Albert Hall with love and celebration, several slightly overwhelming Big Gig performances with the Guides where we sat next to the aeroplanes and watched the dots on the stage who were presumably the artists we were there to see. But live performance had fallen by the wayside a bit, and not just because of the pandemic, when I made the decision that this time, on this tour, I was going to stop putting things off until the next opportunity and make an active effort to put myself in the same room as Imelda May.

*

My first encounter with Imelda May came when “Johnny’s Got a Boom Boom” was playing on the radio with somewhat unavoidable frequency, and I didn’t mind because every time I’d nod my head and tap my foot, thinking to myself as I heard that unmistakable, bouncing off your bones bass line, “I like that beat. It’s pretty cool” Then I went on my way, working on my A-Levels. At some point, I did see an interview in person, saw her with that hair and those lips and that look in her eye, and my vague thoughts added, “She looks pretty cool too.”

Then, a few years later, I saw this performance on the Graham Norton Show:

Not only did I again think “I like that beat”, this time I also had to smile at the lyrics:

"I love your nails, even your entrails I love your soul, even your little mole Yeah I love you inside out

I love your arms and your laugh out loud charms I love your wits, and all your wobbly bits I love your lungs, and your talking tongue Yeah I love you inside out"

I might not have a competent musical ear, but I know what good words look like. These were clever, and funny, and not long after, when I happened to be a in a music shop with money to burn, I bought Mayhem in its entirety as an album. It wasn’t planned. I spotted the CD in the ranks, I remembered that performance, and there was a spontaneous decision that I’m still glad about more than a decade later.

Those first two albums I bought, in fairly quick succession: Mayhem, then Love Tattoo, became the albums I played when I was tired and I needed a burst of energy, whether to my hands or to the thinking parts of my head. They were (and still are) what I turned up loud when housework needed doing, even if they made basic tasks take longer because of the constant need to dance, and even if I could only play them when I was on my own because yes, I still felt compelled to sing along very loudly. They made life a little bit easier and a lot more fun. They could blast me into a writing mood, but sometimes I’d have to wait until the CD finished because I couldn’t concentrate on my words when my ears were still hanging on hers.

Tribal was the first album I ever preordered before it had even been released, claiming the bonus EP despite the fact I didn’t at the time own equipment capable of playing vinyl. It was also the first time I watched an official Imelda May music video, and I still go back to It’s Good to be Alive” whenever I need an immediate pick me up that’ll make me grin so loud you can hear it. Or you could, if I wasn’t alone in the house with the speakers on full blast, crushing every other sound under the vibration of that rhythm.

Then came Life Love Flesh Blood. Before Outside Child, no album had ever come into my life with such a definite force. There were the interviews with Imelda May first, some that I heard and some that I read, promising that it would be something different. Was that a good thing or not? I was reasonably certain that the quality of the singing would make any shape of melody worth a listen, but would these new tracks have that same energy, that mix of humour and humanity, that made the previous records so precious? I was excited, yes, because the odds seemed good, but there was a little trepidation too.

I’m not sure what I was worried about, really. I love those rockabilly rhythms but my favourite songs on Love Tattoo and Mayhem are the slower ones: “Knock 123” and “Kentish Town Waltz” respectively. You can linger in the lyrics, and in all the power and control thrumming through that limitless voice, and you can feel every inch of meaning bleeding into you. The first time “Call Me” poured through the radio, it stopped me like those two had, and all my doubts were scoured away in the echo of that first perfect note.

Caught in the pain and the pleading of Life Love Flesh Blood’s first song, feeling its ache in my ears and my chest, I knew there was something special coming. Then I saw the guest list for Jools’ Annual Hootenanny, saw her name, and I was very ready to hear what came next. It turned out it was the kind of sound that claws itself into your spine. My music, written especially for me.

Yes, she had new hair and a new style, but she still had that look in her eye. That command to pay attention. It was coupled with something else. Without that beat, there was a new kind of vulnerability, one that would tremble throughout the album. Behind the evocative notes of that title, “Black Tears”, behind that striking, captivating image, was a darkness and a pain that spilled out until it swallowed the world.

Somehow, I ended up buying Life Love Flesh Blood twice. Two CD versions, both preorders with bonus tracks. They had a different image on the front, and one had a signed insert whilst the other had extra, extra bonus tracks (the ukulele versions), so they were technically different. No regrets.

No, it wasn’t like the previous albums, but sometimes music finds you at exactly the right time. It wasn’t a happy period, and I was wallowing, to put it mildly. A series of songs with “the world’s not perfect but we can still make it better, I’m not perfect but I’ll still try my best” as a central message? A battered hope depicted through all those admitted mistakes, through humanity in all its shallow, selfish, prideful moments? The declaration that love is something we can actively choose, and that we have to keep choosing? I can’t overstate how important it was for me to hear that.

It's a highly personal album, like you’re being allowed a glimpse into someone else’s soul, but somehow it also manages to distil humanity as a species:

"I've chased away my demons But I'm human at my best

So come adore me But know I'm going to fall Off of this pedestal That I hope you put me on"

I’m going to try and explain why this works for me, but I’m not sure there’s a better way to say it. How does someone write something that brilliant? Place so much depth in such simplicity? The tension there, that conflict between who you want to be and your actuality, the intense desire for someone else to see you and the fear of what will happen when they do, the hope that they’ll love the idea of you and that creeping voice reminding you that the idea is unsustainable? All you can do is your best, but is your best really worth that much? Romance and reality in the same hand; all the difficulty and beauty of being human.

If those few lines of “Human” gave me feelings, then the entirety of “When It’s My Time” ran through me like a blade. It’s not often I see depictions of religion that match the people of faith that I know, not borderline saints, not judgemental bigots, but everyday humans who are so aware of how impossible it is for them to have all the answers, and yet who are so willing to keep trying to understand better, to try and be better. It’s the faith that tests itself every day and comes through on the other side, that admits its own doubts and frailty and is all the stronger for it.

It’s also that conflict again, that precarious balance of hope and helplessness. How do you accept your own imperfections? Is it possible to do better when you’re so intimately aware of your own flaws? Can you find the value in trying, even when you know you won’t succeed? Where do you put your faith? How can you be so small and so human in such a big, complicated world?

I know some people complained about the new sound in Life Love Flesh Blood, but listen to “Proud and Humble” and “When It’s My Time” back-to-back. One leans more into the triumph, the other’s more pleading, but both are pretty explicit about their faith and failure. “I’ve done wrong but that’s not the sum total of me. Look at what I tried to do. Lord, love me like I love you.”

That same wry humour that I loved in “Inside Out” is still there as well, especially in “Bad Habit”, otherwise known as the catchiest song on the album, the one I’m most likely to keep humming for weeks every time I hear it.

"Spending money like I have it A bad habit, spending money like I have it

…

The doctor said 'Girl to my surmount There's nothing wrong with you But you bank account!'"

In other places, it flips the script the other way round. Songs like “Big Bad Handsome Man”, where he tempts you and it’s enticing and celebratory become songs like “Sixth Sense” and “How Bad Can a Good Girl Be”, where the temptation calls directly into your own darkness. Rather than looking out at him and his devilish charm, they take a more introspective route and dare to explore the less palatable side of that desire.

The album is also about love. Like with Allison Russell, I love how Imelda May writes about love. This the woman who admired “all your wobbly bits” for “Inside Out” and then on the same album included “Kentish Town Waltz”, one of the best bits of storytelling in song I’ve heard, absolutely devoid of anything that resembles the ideal of romance whilst still being one of the most romantic things you can possibly imagine.

I love how this love is never flashy, never about grand gestures. It’s about everyday drudgery that you choose to share, about a whole range of choices that you need to make for a love to work. It’s the stews lasting three days into four, it’s knowing you’re going to fall off of the pedestal you hope they put you on, it’s not fear, it’s home, and all that’s good and bad about that. On 11 Past the Hour, it’s “Diamonds” that carries that theme best:

"Don't need to wish on stars We don't have to reach that far Everything's right where we are"

I thought no love song could stop “Kentish Town Waltz”, but “Diamonds” is pretty close. They’re different in tone, but they’re both about the grounded side of love, about a reality that isn’t full of sparkling glamour but is all the stronger because of it. Imelda May writes about love in a way I don’t think I’ve seen from anyone else. It’s never flamboyant, sometimes it’s annoying, but it’s also a way of living.

It doesn’t even have to be set to music. When 11 Past the Hour was announced, I did as I’d done for the last two albums: listened to every single as it was released, poured over every interview to try and eke out the details, and as soon as it was possible, put myself down for a preorder. This time, rather than a bonus EP that I couldn’t play, the extra was a disc of poetry, yes, set to melodies, but spoken, not sung.

Now, 11 Past the Hour is a pretty evocative title in its own right. That’s not a bit of casual speech, it’s an image with some depth to it, the kind that that’s at once instantly understood and enduringly enigmatic. This album was following on from Life Love Flesh, Blood, which had already been pushing the poetic pretty hard, that had managed some points when I thought the lyrics turned almost Leonard Cohen-esque:

"You got my mind In the gutter of love"

Now, however, for Slip of the Tongue, the melody drew back a little so you could see every syllable of each word, though when read in Imelda May’s voice there was music anyway.

Lay those lines out in isolation and they carry their own weight. Here’s love again, in “Home”, perhaps the best of them all. “It’s choosing kindness over being right”. It’s not all harmony though, there’s the punch and the dance of “GBH”, then the shock awakening of “Elephant’s” first line, there are moments of delicacy and violence colliding together, there’s questioning and uncertainty and humanity, the things I love so much in her music. Then every time you think you have a grasp on the images and the feelings of Slip of the Tongue, there’s moment of transformation into something more.

Since then, I’ve bought the A Lick and a Promise poetry book. It now on the desk next to my laptop, where I can pick it up and dip in at leisure whenever I have a craving to see words painted like art.

Of course, you can’t ignore the songs of 11 Past the Hour. It’s a fairy tale from that opening “'Twas”, it’s a romance where sweetness and sorrow sit side by side, it’s intimacy danced under an open sky. We travel a long way over the course of this album, from Ireland to London to Mexico to the most war-torn corners of the world and all the roads in between. There are temptations and doubts and darkness, as we’d expect. “I’m no psychopath” says the woman who once celebrated how, “I go with a psycho” There’s triumph that bursts forth in “Made to Love” in a similar way to how it roared in “Should Have Been You”. There’s storytelling. It rewards every listen, and every relisten, as you try to unravel all its questions and their uncertain answers.

Seeing Imelda May in concert shouldn’t really have been that difficult, as she has several great advantages over most of my other favourite singers. For instance, she is still alive, in good health and actually touring in the UK on a regular basis. The only real reason it hadn’t happened was that I hadn’t got round to it. I was sure I would one day.

A new album meant a new tour, so in the aftermath of 11 Past the Hour I poked around her website to find dates and destinations. Bath. Bath was on the list. It was the perfect place for it to happen. Bath is one of my favourite cities and I’ll take any excuse to wander there. There’s so much history in every street, but not the heavy kind. It’s beautiful in the pale stone of the buildings and almost mystical in the shimmering waters.

Of course, I’m not actually anywhere near Bath at the moment. I’m stranded a long way from home and don’t know when I’ll be able to get back on a more permanent basis. That meant that when I took a casual look at those tour dates, as I’d done nearly every year since I became an Imelda May fan, Bath didn’t represent the city of closeness and convenience, but instead an excuse. I could combine it with a trip home, not the long-term settlement that I really wanted but still an improvement on my current status.

As always, my mum jumped on the opportunity to encourage me to socialise, this time by suggesting I go with one of the members of that three-person social network of mine. Asking him to come wasn’t actually that difficult. It’s hard to believe when you see me craning my neck to look at him, but we met when he was shorter than me. We’re friends in the way that’s only possible with someone you’ve known since before you had a memory. We’re close in the way that no matter how many paths you both travel, whether in philosophy or physical space, you know you’ll always come back, and that when you do you’ll be able to just pick it up again. We started a conversation nearly 30 years ago and whilst it’s curled many ways in between, it hasn’t stopped since.

That meant that something as simple as sending him a message didn’t have to be debated and worried over, that I knew before I started that I wasn’t overstepping. Of course, that wasn’t the same as knowing he’d say yes, or even if he’d like Imelda May’s music. Not that I was too worried about that second one. He’s a musician, a proper one who can hear the things I miss, and that means that his musical genres can basically be divided into “good” and “not for me.”

I didn’t send him links at first because I was still trying to decide which tracks would make the most representative sample, but I did offer to make recommendations if he wanted to listen. He was enthusiastic about coming even without hearing a single note. “I’m sure I’ll love her music. I’ve not heard of her but feel free to send anything over.”

After some debate one my part, I decided on “Johnny’s Got a Boom Boom”, as that was the one I was pretty sure he’d have heard on radio if he’d ever encountered her without realising, the Graham Norton performance of “Inside Out” that had pushed me over the line into a fan, and the “Black Tears” video from Jools Holland that had made me realise just how special Life Love Flesh Blood would be. There needed to be some old and some new if he was to fully appreciate her.

Then he started wondering if going to see her without having a clue what to expect would actually be more of an experience. It was a month later when he messaged me that he’d finally decided to listen to the links “I love the three that you sent and while I like the 50s Rock n Roll stuff, her latest album is blowing me away! Her voice is incredible no matter what genre she's singing but I like this latest stuff the best.”

I may have bounced up and down slightly with excitement.

(In case you’re wondering, yes, I did later turn him towards Allison Russell – “I love Hy-Brasil, the atmosphere and harmonies are amazing” – followed by a deep plunge into the Silk Road Ensemble as he fell into the many layered wonders of Rhiannon Giddens.)

When I went to buy the tickets, there were two options. Yes, I could have just gone with the regular ones, which would have got us to a decent position in the stalls, but the very front few rows were only available as part of a VIP package. A VIP package that also came with the right to watch the soundcheck, and attend a Q&A afterwards, plus a special gift. That was ridiculously enticing and if I’d been on my own, I wouldn’t have been able to resist.

Was it fair to ask someone else to buy a VIP ticket to see a singer that they hadn’t heard of a month ago just to indulge me?

Yes, I decided, it was worth it, and if he wanted I’d cover the difference between this and a regular ticket so he wasn’t too put out.

It was just after I’d bought the tickets that he messaged and told me he was having trouble rearranging his shift at work.

“Don’t do anything yet,” he said as I rechecked my confirmation e-mail.

There were a very nervous few days before that one was resolved, and all that was left was to wait for Tuesday 12th April.

*

When the day rolled round, I was already in a good mood. I was home, in Somerset, and that’s always been the best thing to help me breathe. I wasn’t worried about finding the venue, because I’d been to The Forum before. There was no stress about getting back to Bath Spa station before the last train, because as you’ll know if you’ve ever been to Bath, getting to The Forum basically involves leaving the station and turning left, and getting back is just as simple. Everything was in such a clear line.

His dad gave us a lift, him from his house and me from my B&B, and from the car to the station to the train we picked up that conversation we’ve been dipping in and out of for so long. We’d left at lunch to allow plenty of time to get something to eat and be at The Forum before the soundcheck began, which meant we also had time to wander around one of my favourite cities in the world.

You can’t walk through Bath without feeling its age, the echo of all those Victorian voices, the shape of all those Roman constructs, the song of that older time before stories had words, when the Pagans first touched the magic in its waters. We talked, and we talked, and the sun was bright but still cool enough, as you’d expect in early April, and the streets were lively, but not crowded, and there was really nothing that could be changed to improve that day.

We walked past a bookshop and I felt that irresistible pull, and unlike the vast majority of people who know me, who wouldn’t have trusted me to leave again, he said “We can go in if you want.” Yes, even though we were still on a schedule. Drifting between the shelves, running fingers over all the intrigue and excitement promised in every different colour papering the spines, until yes, if we wanted to have something to eat before the soundcheck started, we needed to move a little quicker.

A little vegan café full of garlic mushrooms and katsu curry. Conversation about music of course, but also comics and politics and personal lives and all the topics in between. His music degree had led him into a career as a postman, clearly such a natural choice, but now he was making a change. He had decided to become a music therapist, was just starting his early reading before the course started, and that meant he could talk through the deconstruction of a melody in a whole different way, to how it could bypass and jumpstart parts of the brain that were otherwise losing their connections.

We came to a halt in the sun and sounds outside of The Forum, that curve at the point of the road, the art deco cinema turned dance school turned bingo hall turned church, a model of architectural beauty like all of its city. Forum is an ancient word, it takes you back to those Romans again, and it sounds like a conversation, like something for people to share. It’s a name that carries a lot of ideas. And of course, this was yet another concert venue on sanctified ground, a site dedicated to both God and music over the course of a life.

No one else was there when we first arrived, but others soon followed, coming up in their ones and twos, presumably for the same purpose as us. I watched them with curiosity, all those different looks and different voices but united intent. If we hadn’t all been stood outside of that same door, could we even have known the music we shared?

Eventually, those doors opened. It was finally time to step inside.

[apixrl]

YOUR EREN.

eren jeager x fem!reader

WARNING(S): angst. slight manipulation. s4 spoilers. brief mentions of (but not actually) throwing up at the end.

word count: 5.9k

song: a soulmate who wasn't meant to be // jess benko

note(s): oh, that sound? it's just the sound of my tears whilst writing this oneshot. no biggie

The prison cells underneath headquarters were as dark and dreary as ever as you stood opposite them. Whilst the windows were generously large, the night sky was not so giving. Clouds were gloomy and blocked out the moon and stars, replacing it with a heavy downpour of rain. If you listened closely, you could pick up on the faint 'pitter patter' as droplets met the pebbled ground outside, the sound comforting compared to the echoing silence within the walls. Mattresses were placed in the corners of each cell, old and tattered after years of use by many different faces. You could only imagine their discomfort as you'd never been required to sleep on them, your record in the Scout Regiment practically a clean slate after your years of service. You were someone who took your position as a soldier seriously; respected your superiors and did as told when told.

As for Eren Jeager? It seemed in recent events he was past the point of caring.

Such a fact was blatant as you stared at him through the prison bars, your back pressed against the wall, body stiff and fearful of what would happen if you tried to step closer. Eren's gaze was terrifying to witness even from the odd angle you stared at him. His eyes locked on the ceiling as he lay flat on his back on the bed of his cell. His hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, some strands not long enough to reach so far back were fated to live a life of their own. They glued to his temples and forehead and even entwined with the strands pulled back. You couldn't decide if the look was flattering or not.

"I...," You blurted out without thought of what you planned to actually say, your pathetic attempt at making conversation followed up with a nervous whimper. Eren barely inched a muscle when you broke the quiet, from his eyes to his hands that lay lifeless at his side. He remained laid down as if you weren't even there. That made your heart weep in the worst of ways and your mind qualm - to think the last time you were together he was holding you in his arms as you gazed under the stars. And now he could barely spare you a second glance.

"It's been a while since you were last cooped up in one of these cells," You eventually tried again, calming yourself down as best you could by trying to be light-hearted. "Remember when we would play cards through the bars when I could visit? Those were fun times," You smiled sadly at the memories, eyes drifting away from Eren and towards nothing in particular. The smile then faded, the yearn to experience easier days once more hitting you as hard as stone. "If only we could experience them again,"

Your tone lowered, left unhinged since you knew mourning for what was no more was a waste of time. But you couldn't help yourself. All you wanted was to live in the past, where the titans were slane and the Scouts had reached the sea. All you wanted was to live out your days with your friends, talk and laugh with no need to worry about the rest of the world. All you wanted was to fall into Eren's embrace, to love him with all your might as he did you. There was a short period where that was your life, one filled with simplicity and peace after years of blood and death and gore that haunted your every nightmare. It had been pleasant, and you missed it. More than you were willing to admit.

If only Eren hadn't pushed things too far.

Eren's eyes shifted after a prolonged silence, travelling from the ceiling to you across the way. He was quick to take note of your vacancy, your conflict as you stared at him. How you created your own form of a jail cell by restricting yourself to the opposite side of the room. Maintaining a safe distance like you sensed you would get hurt stepping too far. Eren sighed loudly at that fact. Which caught your attention, E/C eyes flicking back to him at the sound. Eren pushed himself upright, eyes leaving you to stare at the floor before he hoisted himself off of the bed. Then, he turned to face you, searching for you through the wisps of his unkempt fringe.

You held your breath when he did, unable to fathom just how uncomfortable his gaze made you feel. Typically, Eren looking your way would send butterflies to your stomach. Your heart would perform somersaults and beat soundly with joy. Your cheeks would heat up, to which he would smile and tease and call it cute - merely deepening your flustered state like it was some fun game.

But this time, upon him meeting your gaze, nausea swiftly followed after. Rising concern over unconditional love based on his expression alone. It was empty. Unreadable. Nothing you had ever seen him display before. You had witnessed most if not all his worst moments up front but none of them - none of them, came close to just how desolately devoid he looked in that moment.

His lips didn't twitch, firmly held together as they added to his glaring aura. His brows arched sterner than Captain Levi's when you failed to clean a room up to standards, you didn't think it was possible for them to be so closely knit. But the worst part that made you truly sick to the stomach at the unfamiliarity of it all, were his eyes. Their usual bright and gleaming jade green blend that had entranced you from the instant you met Eren were now bleaker and more stationary than ever. They no longer held a zest and determination that motivated you to fight another day, no notable twinkle against the dimly lit room. Only a barren vacancy the most broken are succumbed to display.

You felt the need to comment on it, communicate to Eren just how worried you were. That you wanted to help him because you cared about him more than anyone else in the entire world. You were willing to lay your life down for him, and had even nearly become an anonymous number in the ranks because of that sheer will alone. However, before you had the chance to open your mouth, Eren beat you to it.

"Did Hange send you down here to try and sway me?" Eren asked half-rhetorically, taking a couple of steps forwards until the bars of his cell stopped him. "You of all people should know you can't stop me, so why even bother?"

You were taken back by his bluntness, even more so by his disregard for your previous words. Like you had never said them in the first place and he was the one initiating conversation. Perhaps it was so Eren felt he had the control, asserting dominance in a relationship where he already held more than half of it. His aim was unclear, but you persisted nonetheless.

"No, they didn't," You said. "I came here on my own accord, Eren," You shrugged your shoulders aimlessly. "I wanted to see you. I-I've missed you," Eren's eyes narrowed in suspicion, studying your frame for any sign indicating you were lying. He came out with no clear answer as from the instant you had set foot in the room you'd been shaking like a lamb bleating after its mother. Afraid. His arms crossed over his broad chest still in doubt, the action reminding you just how much he'd changed over the last few years. He was taller, looming over you even whilst feet apart. He was no doubt stronger, evident with or without the fact he held the power of three titans within him. Eren was no longer the vigorous and unruly boy he once was, who devoted his strength to rid the world of all the titans. He was now an indestructible force that vouched for freedom, his will to fight unshaken by no one.

"If you missed me so much," He started, looking down at you with what only felt like shame. "What took you so long to visit?" Raising a brow, you realised he held a point with his inquiry. If you proposed you missed him why hadn't you visited? The truth was you were scared of who you would find on the other side when you did. Levi and Hange had given you the option since the first day Eren was placed in his cell. But no matter the undying need to have Eren in your line of sights again, you failed to find the courage to make that final step.

"I wanted to, I-I really did," You said in a panic. "I was just scared! I didn't know what to say or how to speak to you after... after...,"

"After what?" Eren reprimanded, glowering at you as his hands wrapped around the iron bars. Your eyes widened and you whimpered, shaking your head frantically as a means to apologise.

"N-No Eren. I didn't mean it like that I just -," You swallowed thickly, your breathing quickening as Eren's pressing stare intimidated you more and more by the second. You hated how much you were falling apart. Where had your Eren gone?! Your Eren who always fretted over you during and after battles. Your Eren who grew antsy at Jean or Connie if they got a little too comfortable in your company. Your Eren who snuck into your room past curfew to share stories of his life late into the night. Your Eren who crammed his lips on yours when he couldn't hide his feelings any longer, confirming your relationship would turn from friendship to deepened love. You missed your Eren. You wanted your Eren back. Was that so much to ask?!

"You just what?" He spoke harshly, impatience riddled within every letter and syllable. You were quick to notice his grip on the bars tighten to the point you thought he'd snap them clean in two.

"I...," You trailed off, finishing your cut sentence with a defeated sigh. Your hands lowered to your sides as your head hung forwards. Perhaps being upfront with him was the only way you could go. "You killed people, Eren. Innocent people that hadn't done anything wrong! You ate somebody. Women, men and children crushed under debris like they were nothing. Y-You... you made Armin destroy that port and your decision making got Sasha killed!" You brought a hand to your forehead, not realising how distressed you sounded as you recalled that night. Tears started forming in your eyes, lip trembling. "Shit! I nearly... if Jean hadn't shot that Marley soldier first then I would've...,"

You had experienced a rocky start during the raid on Marley. One of your biggest flaws as a soldier was your will to take another life. Life as in... a human life. You despised the concept and did everything in your power to avoid it all costs, even if your fellow soldiers disagreed (especially Levi's, who persisted humans could be just as bad as titans when it came to killing). That exact flaw came forth when you first encountered a Marleyan soldier, and your hesitation almost ended with a bullet between your eyes. Had Jean not been behind you just in time... your grave would have been undoubtedly determined. There was a time where Eren was the same as you, never wanting to act and inflict harm on other humans. But times had changed since then. Oh, how you hated how much it had changed since then. None of it was fair.

A silence ensued, your stifled sobs the only thing willing to break it. Eren watched you motionlessly, the glare still apparent on his face as your emotions got the better of you. You hadn't realised just how shaken up you were from what happened. Sure, you had faced death many times, but always at the hand of titans. Where you had to evade giant swooshing limbs and teeth that could churn your flesh as cows do cud. Never had you looked another human in the eye and watched them contemplate killing you. To aim a gun directly your way and prep the shot as you realised what their intentions were. Then a feeble attempt to escape approaching death, all too distracted with your life flashing before your eyes for you to see the way out. That was one of the scariest moments of your life. You never wanted to endure it again. Never.

"Come here,"

You stiffened up, looking at Eren amidst dishevelled strands of H/C hair falling over your face. His glare had left and his face had returned to its neutral state, his eyes boring into you with his demand lingering in the air. You wiped your nose on your sleeve as well as your eyes, confused by the abrupt change in atmosphere. A truly weird circumstance and turn of events you weren't expecting indeed. At first, you weren't sure doing as Eren said was a smart idea, having heard Hange's experience with him during a debrief. You didn't believe Eren would treat you with the same sort of disrespect, but you also didn't want to take that risk just in case.

"B-But...,"

"Just do it," He roughly snapped, suspense in his tone kicking you up the hind to move. With a yelp, you pushed yourself off of the wall - back sighing out in bliss after starting to ache because of the uneven rocky surface. You gingerly stepped towards Eren, biting down on your lip to stop it trembling in fright. You came to a stop once close enough to the iron bars, hands going to wrap themselves around them, around the same ones as Eren. Whether you intended for that or it was just subconscious instinct you didn't know. Finally, your eyes dropped to the floor, lost on where to focus. Eren hummed a complacent sigh at your actions, head tilting to the side as he looked you up and down. You couldn't find an answer to what was running through his mind, blank gaze concealing all form of emotion and clarity. Then, just as you thought the silence couldn't grow any more powerful, Eren lifted his hand and reached out for you.

You gasped at the sudden contact, the feeling of Eren's hand cupping your face sending all sorts of sensations through you. His palm was warm despite the cool air of the prison cell. It was as though his hand was constructed to cradle your cheek, moulded into the perfect structure to which you filled in the empty spaces. His hand felt soft even after years of wear and tear of fighting and training, fingers long but not at all discomforting. You had forgotten just how pleasant the feel of Eren's thumb across your cheekbone was until he initiated the motion, almost a way to lure you in. And with your deprivation of his touch - of him. That was enough to have you wrapped around his finger.

"I forgot how nice it was to hold you like this," Eren declared monotonously, though his expression betrayed his lack of care. Something about it had calmed, but he didn't allow it to stay for long, gone so fast that if you blinked you would have missed it. You inhaled deeply, head tilting to the side as you nuzzled into his hand. Seeming satisfied with that, Eren proceeded. "That and just how easily you melt under my touch,"

"Eren," You uttered no louder than a whisper, eyes closing tight as you welcomed his touch. You despised how much he was correct, that you became putty without him even needing to try. That was the impact of love, after all, it makes people act in crazy ways and do some incredibly crazy things. But you couldn't ignore the odd funny feeling still pitting your gut, begging you to stop falling to Eren's will before it was too late. You couldn't get carried away, he had committed obscene criminal acts without jurisdiction. That was more than enough to get him locked up for life, regardless of the war you were fighting. You should be disgusted by his actions, his corrupted thinking and the way he went behind the Military's backs to further his own idea of freedom. You were disgusted.

But you also loved him. Way, way more than you were disgusted.

A frown merged onto your face, blending awkwardly with the once peaceful content that Eren noticed as fast as it appeared. He managed to figure out the thoughts running through your mind also, the young adult lamenting a sigh and he opened his mouth to speak. Not before his hand drifted down to your chin, tilting your head up to make you look at him. His thumb planted on your bottom lip as he grazed over it.

"I'm trying to build a future for Eldia, Y/N," Eren spoke firmly, your heart having a brief elation to the way he said your name. It had been far too long since you had heard him say it. "A future for us, where we can be free and live our lives the way we want to,"

"I know," You began, eyes opening to meet Eren's. "But there are other ways, Eren. More humane ways. We don't have to kill anymore if we just-,"

"There isn't another way," Eren interrupted, his ministrations of stroking your chin coming to an abrupt halt. "We've tried other ways and they haven't worked," Eren evaded your disheartened stare. "I'm sick of it not working,"

"We all are, Eren. Stop making out that you're the only victim here," You paid no mind to Eren's reaction. "We're all victims of this shitshow that's our reality, and we're all just as much the culprits of it as well! All w-we do is fight fire with fire and add more ashes to the pile with each person we slaughter," You felt your grip tighten on the bars, gritting your teeth harshly together. "I'm sick of all the violence and suffering! I just want to go back to the days when we could be at peace. Where we could laugh and joke because the main problem - the titans, were dealt with! I became a soldier to fight titans, not to embark on an endless war where both sides are human and neither is willing to cooperate with the other,"

"Those days are gone," Eren spoke sternly, though it softened up when he noticed you look away. "But they can return," He pressed his forehead against the iron bars, staring at you through deadened eyes. "We can live a life of freedom together once I finish what I started, all I need you to do is stay by my side and to have faith,"

Your eyes widened, gawking at Eren with complete and utter disbelief at his words. His persistence came off like the cruellest of sicknesses, corrupting Eren's mind to the point of insanity. His moral compass was in shambles as was his sense of humanity. The way his eyes were numbed right down to their pupils, blinded by his visions of a future for Eldia that came with the cost of the rest of the world's suffering. It pained you to witness such a change, to witness Eren's descent into madness as war took over his every thought and breath. Suddenly that foreign feeling in your stomach became clear as day, and you abhorred it with a deadly passion.

"I don't want to be free in a world built on other people's suffering," Your hands fell down to your sides, heartbeat racing as you avoided Eren's gaze. He quirked a brow, eyes piercing into you once he realised what you meant, and his chosen tone suggested he didn't like that one bit.

"What are you trying to say?"

You faltered, both as a mental brace and a state of refusal to your next actions. A second or so passed before you took a step back, creating a distance that did more damage than healing. With a shaky breath, you answered his question.

"I love you Eren, with everything I am. B-but I can't stand by your side if this is the path you're going to take," The tears were already brewing, doing everything you could to blink them away. "I won't sit by and watch the rest of the world crumble because of your selfish desires,"

You hated the words you were saying, how you said them and who you were saying them to. That it had all come to this, where Eren became the threat to humanity rather than its saviour. He only had so much time left and had you known that his way of spending it was to spiral the world into chaos - perhaps you wouldn't have grown so attached.

"I can't - I...," Since he hadn't said anything, you felt the urgency to speak. "Eren you have no idea how much I want to but this isn't how I saw our future -,"

"What future?" Eren persisted, not giving you a chance to reply. "Eldia has no future within the walls, these cages! It's time we give the world a taste of its own medicine, so what if a couple of lives are taken out on the way? It's not like they give a damn about ours," Eren scoffed when you shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes and the stinging sensation that came with it was painful to deal with.

"Please, Eren. Think about what you're saying," You pleaded and begged. But you knew it was no use, Eren too fixated on his 'destiny' to see logical reason. Merely the look in his eyes was proof enough to tell you that. "What happened to you? When did you become so heartless? Where's the Eren I knew all those years ago gone? Don't you miss it back then? When we weren't cheating death and we could simply be us? Be two dumb teens in love and the only thing that mattered was that love we shared? Do you even think about that anymore? About me? What about -,"

"Stop it," Eren stopped you, voice acting as a silencer to your blubbering drabble. Flinching at the interruption your mouth clamped shut, and your eyes darted for Eren in surprise. Despite locked behind bars, you were still terrified, and it felt more like you were the prisoner of the pair. With a low growl, Eren raised a clenched fist and thrashed it harshly against the bars. It made a low but loud 'thunk!' sound that hit your ears like impending doom, deafening all around you excluding that of Eren and the words he uttered next. "I'm sick of listening to you whine about shit that's not even important,"

"W-what?" You stammered in question, voice unsteady. "What do you mean it's not important?"

"Do you really think that amidst all of this I have time to be playing boyfriend?" Eren half-mocked. "I've got bigger priorities than you right now," He didn't look you in the eye, nostrils flared as his gaze lingered on the floor. Your legs nearly gave way at what you were hearing, each word a fatal stab to the stomach. Each stab even more malicious than the last. So that was it? You didn't matter anymore? Were you just some pawn in Eren's plan until he didn't feel he needed you anymore? Had his love ever been real or was it all a hoax to manipulate your every waking thought?

A minute passed of still silence, one of the many that evening. Your eyes never left Eren, searching for something to indicate he was joking. As well as contemplating pinching yourself in hopes you woke up from this horrible nightmare. Maybe you'd wake up in your Eren's arms, safe and secure as you lay beside him - his gentle breaths from deep sleep tickling the back of your neck and helping you forget the entire reason you woke up. But sadly, no such thing happened. You never woke up from anything but were instead left to face an Eren you barely knew anymore. Endure the pain as he pounded words into your head that gashed crueller than the worst of war wounds.

Realising this, you felt an urge to laugh, unsure what else there was you really could do. Crying was ineffective, and there was no way you could let Eren get the better of you. That's probably what he wanted anyway, for you to turn around and beg on your hands and knees. So as your hand met your face, you released the smallest of chuckles, lacking in humour but overwhelmed with an unforeseen emptiness. It definitely caught Eren by surprise, but he was fast to not hide it as he pressured that vacant stare onto you yet again.

"You insist your plan is the only way to get us our future, but I'm not even sure what future you mean anymore," You hesitated, trying to gain control of your lip which began to quiver erratically. "Clearly it's not the one we imagined together when we were younger,"

"If only you weren't so blinded by your emotions," Eren avoided your words, something you noticed and felt more agonised by than relieved. "Stop thinking with your feelings and see the logic, already. It's so annoying,"

Almost choking on the sob you tried to hold down, you bit down harshly on your lip - any harder and you probably would have drawn blood. You did everything you could to ignore Eren's words, but you were so hurt that you were losing the means to do so.

But you couldn't let his words consume you and manifest them into truth. You had to be strong, use whatever power you had left to regain your composure and come out the bigger person. Eren had always been a stubborn brat, Levi's nickname reigning true now more than ever.

"Use your head and think, Y/N," Eren spoke slowly, leaning his weight back onto one foot. He stretched his arm out towards you, held out for you to take. "Maybe if you stop caring for those that'll just kill you off for sport you'll actually comprehend why you're following the wrong cause,"

His words were suffocating and barbaric, not at all inspiring or persuading in the slightest. It didn't make you feel hopeful, it made you feel trapped. All you wanted was for it to stop. It wasn't love no matter how much you adored him. It wasn't healthy no matter the good memories you had shared. You had to stop the past messing with your head. You had to stop Eren messing with your head. You wanted to get out and escape. You needed to and as soon as possible. So, taking a moment to regain your composure, your hands raised to adjust the collar of your jacket and you looked over at Eren. An apologetic expression on your face for deciding to cut the visit short.

"I think I should... should go check on Armin and the others," You started, not sure what Eren would make of that. He appeared to show confusion, blinking once your words processed and frowning based on how sudden they were.

"Why would you need to do that?"

"They've been busy, and they're probably looking for me," You made up on the spot. "I didn't tell them I was coming to see you," Eren was silent, eyeing you up and down before he scoffed.

"You know I can tell you're lying, right?"

"W-Why would I lie?"

"For the same reason all people lie," Eren said. "To avoid what you're too scared to face," The way Eren spoke made everything feel much, much worse. A heavy amount of disrespect originated from this new flesh of conceit that Eren displayed on full. He had always been one to boast, but never in the form he showed in the present.

Listening to his slander any longer was something you simply couldn't handle. Not today, anyway. Fatigue was starting to claim control over your thought process, emotionally drained from talking to Eren. He had selfishly left you in a constant state of confusion and agony, making you ask yourself more questions than answering them. It utterly and totally sucked, being honest, and you had no clue where your relationship stood. Was it over? Were you still even together? Had he even seen you both as a couple this entire time or was it all just a big lie?

"So what were you trying to avoid when you spent all those months lying to us?" You were tempted to leave without another word said, but you knew you'd regret not asking your question. Which had popped into your head at the last moment as you pondered on Eren's words. Using them against you seemed to strike a nerve, as when you expected Eren to talk he did no such thing. Instead, he glared at you for being caught out, prompting your next words to follow. "I'll... I'll see you later, Eren,"

And with that, you started walking away.

You did everything in your power to not look back, focusing your gaze on the exit that was a little way ahead. Eren's stare etched itself into your back on the way out, leaving an even deeper wound than before which would probably scar for sure. Your footsteps dragged across the floor like you hauled twice your body weight behind you. Walking upstairs had never been such a demanding challenge before in your life. To think that you possessed the energy to traverse the walls but absolutely none to conquer thirteen mediocre steps.

You made it around ten steps up, just about to reach out for the door handle - when Eren's voice finally filled the room again. It brought your rushed exit to a halt with ease, much to your dismay, and what he had to say did nothing to help your situation.

"Who's to say I ever lied?"

Your heart both soared and sank at the same time, the conflict in your head skyrocketing as your thoughts drove you mad. What did Eren mean by that? Lie about what exactly? It was the way his words were always so devoid of clarity that hurt the most. The brunette was exceedingly blunt yet always left you inquiring more, prying further until it was too late. A mind game that pulled you in and kept you playing. You admittedly almost swayed.

But so close to the door, your hand wavering in the air just begging to open it - it was enough to prevent such a thing a happening. You knew if you headed back it would be the end, you would somehow get more hurt than you already had. It was a risky move you didn't want to place your bets on, you had come too far to be foolish.

So taking a deep breath you reached out for the handle and gripped it tight. You turned the knob and braced yourself to leave, blocking Eren from your mind as you lifted your foot to the eleventh step. Then the twelfth. Then the thirteenth, and finally onto the floor above the jail cells.

Closing that door behind you felt like the freshest of cleanses, your body sighing out in relief when it clicked shut.

Sadly though, you didn't have time to celebrate. The whole encounter surely caught up with you, as did the tears you had been saving for when you were finally alone. Just like they guaranteed, the hot, salty liquid singed the corners of your eyes and the tears returned. Before you could do anything, a cry broke out and you staggered until your back hit the door. The hinges jolted loudly, most likely attracting the attention of someone nearby. Whether it be a guard around the corner or one of your friends in search of your location. Maybe even Hange or Levi coming to check up on you. Whichever it was, they were in for a shock.

Your heart raced with anxiety, mind and body overwhelmed by inner turmoil that made you sick to your gut. The nausea was so bad you had to hold your stomach with your spare arm, fighting the urge to violently vomit all whilst controlling your reckless sobs that didn't cease their slander. Your vision went blurry from how much you broke down, unable to blink the tears away no matter your efforts.

Fearing the unknown had always been a part of who you were. But had somewhat simmered down as you grew older and developed mentally through being a soldier. However, all that progress reversed in an instant as your mind flashed back to the thought of Eren. How someone who used to possess so much passion now resorted to an empty vessel. The way he admitted to your insignificance with such little struggle, only to proceed to confuse you even more by implying he had never told a single lie. Was he even talking about you when he said that? Or something else completely unrelated?

A little bit of confirmation wouldn't hurt anybody.

It was odd to have Eren be the reason for your tears after so many years of him typically being the one to dry them off your face. Though thinking about it, he had been the leading cause for a lot of things as of late. The number a very concerning amount indeed. You barely even recognised him anymore. The once caring soul you fell in love with was no longer there, replaced with a man who had discovered the bittersweet lust for power based on a corrupted idealogy. Such a ruthless lust that it no longer mattered how that idealogy came to be, just as long as he managed to taste an essence of it.

You hated it. You hated that of all people it was Eren who tumbled down that drain. How did you allow yourself to fall in love with someone so possible of committing such atrocities? To worship him and give him everything you had, only to be told it was all for nothing and you were fighting a losing battle. You knew it was hopeless to hold on and believe that your Eren might return but at this rate that seemed unattainable. Not after witnessing him firsthand. The only thing left now was to move on and pray the world was on your side.

Part of you didn't want to move on though, so familiar with Eren as your crutch that a world without him sounded terrifying. You had grown so used to his presence in your life that all of this still felt so surreal no matter the fact you were very much living in it. Living in an endless hell that never allowed anyone a moment's peace. Not you. Not even Eren. Not a single human being on the planet. Nobody.

Just... where along the line had it all gone so painfully wrong?

[laytontheories]

Lately I've been sitting at home, listening to music so you know what that means:

More songs that remind me of Professor Layton characters:

First post

Second post

Emiliana Perfetti

Emiliana has striven for perfection her entire life. She has always been the best in school, she always follows the rules and she has a high ranking job.

But something unexpected happened that could cause her perfect reputation to crumble around her.

She has fallen in love with another girl.

She tries to deny her feelings but they just keep getting stronger.

It also fits that her nickname is Perfect Perfetti. She is literally Little Miss Perfect.

Jean Descole

After all the suffering Bronev has caused, Descole plans to enact his revenge against him, while his henchmen cheer for him.

Still, deep down there is a part of him who still loves his father.

I'll never forget that you showed me to make art. And I know the love you showed me came from a pure and noble heart.

So with a heavy heart I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy. My whole life, you were a teacher and friend to me. Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy.

I too have a destiny. This death will be art. The people will speak of this day from near and afar. This event will be history. And I'll be great too. I don't want what you have. I wanna be you.

Clive Dove

I am not even remotely sorry.

Jokes aside, I actually like this song and it does fit Clive very well.

Ernest Greeves

When Ernest saw Katrielle for the first time he was literally enchanted.

The way the sun shone off her face, the deep stare she gave him, the fact that she believed in him when no one else did.

It's no wonder he fell in love at first sight.

The voice of the Azran

This may be hard to explain but I'll do my best.

Ana: Aurora

I'll fake God. I'll fake God today: The Azran became so powerful that they saw themselves as Gods to the golems they created.

Hop up on a cloud and watch the world decay: The Golems rebelled and destroyed the Azran people. The few survivors could only watch.

Being this Godly can't be good for Ana's safety: The Azran becoming too powerful created a domino effect that caused Aurora much pain and suffering.

Oh Ana, oh Ana. I'll be with you still: The voice of the Azran live as a part of Aurora.

You are the angel that I couldn't kill: Since the Azran Legacy is a trap to release the golems, Aurora is technically an angel of death. And she cannot be killed.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your opinion) I started listening to a bunch of Phineas and Ferb songs to reminisce.

And that possibility affected the rest of the songs on this list.

Luke and Future Luke

Little Luke and Big Luke sing a fun song about how they are best friends because they are the same person.

I'm sure Big Luke won't betray him at all.

The voices don't really fit, but let's say that Luke and Clive are both terrible singers.

Sammy Thunder

My king.

After a tough breakup, Luke convinces Sammy to rejoin his old band.

After all, they need him. Sammy is the hot one who can play guitar.

Luke and Aurora

I guess the rumours are true. There really is a Phineas and Ferb song for everything.

Aurora may not be a traditional Egyptian Mummy, but she sure is old.

And Luke is very happy to have her as a friend.

Flora and Augustus Reinhold

There were many times that Flora hated her father. When he made a cruel imitation of her mother, when he kept her in the tower, when he left her all alone in the world.

But now she's older, Flora realises that he only wanted the best for her. Maybe he was a good dad after all.

Ernest Greeves

What is Ernest?

S to the I to the M to the P

[lovemesomesurveys]

What was the last game you played? It was a game called, Everybody Knows, which if you're familiar with the game show, Family Feud, it's like the rapid fire question portion at the end.

Is there anything going to get released soon that you're looking forward to? The new Doctor Strange movie comes out tonight and I'm going to see it with my mom and brother.

Do you have a fan in the room you're in? Yes.

How many candles do you own? Zero.

What's something you wish you liked but you don't? Seafood, ha. It seems like everyone loves it and I admit that sometimes it looks and sounds good, but gah I just can't.

Do you use a baby voice when talking to animals? Sometimes.

Would you say your parents put too much pressure on you? No. I do that to myself quite well, though.

What's for dinner today? I have no idea.

Can you fall asleep easily or do you need something to help you sleep? My sleep schedule is so messed up and has been for so long. :/

What do you do when you get bored of sitting in the car a long time while on trips? Take a nap.

What game did you play most as a kid? My cousins and I loved playing house and school.

What's the best thing that's happened today? I've only been awake for like 10 minutes, but seeing the new Doctor Strange movie tonight will be awesome.

What about worst thing? I have a doctor appointment this afternoon and because of recent setbacks things aren't looking good right now. It'll just leave me feeling more stressed, more anxious, more depressed, and more frustrated. It's a mood killer for sure.

Do you like the scent of gasoline? I actually do.

What's an odd smell you find pleasing? ^^^ That's one. Not sure about another.

How often do you visit Bzoink? Pretty often.

Which cell phone network do you use? Verizon.

What's something you've been made fun of before? Hmm.

What is something you need to work on? A lot of things. Myself most of all.

What movie or show has scared you the most? I haven't felt that affected by any movie or show. It'll be like creepy/scary in the moment and then I've moved on.

Would you rather have cake or ice cream? or ice cream cake? Both. I've really become an ice cream person the past couple of years.

What is your style in clothing and would you like to change it? Casual and comfortable is what I call it, consisting of just leggings and an oversized graphic tee.

Do you like the color yellow? It's one of my favorite colors.

Have you ever been to a drive in movie? Yes.

When were you last in a body of water? (pools count) Almost a decade ago.

What dead celebrity would you bring back if possible? why? I don't know.

Do you listen to gospel music? Yes.

What do you think of Harry Styles? He has some catchy songs, seems like a chill guy.

Would you say your personality is naturally outgoing? No, definitely not.

Are you currently talking to anyone? No.

What are you craving right now? Nothing really at the moment.

What did you last order online? Some things for my mom for Mother's Day.

Do you support the Supreme Court in trying to overturn Roe vs Wade? (banning all abortions in the USA) Wow, this survey is actually a new one. I stay away from major topics like this in surveys.

What's the weather like today? It's going to be in the lower 80s, I think.

Do you know anyone in the military? No.

Do you consume a lot of caffeine daily? Not a lot, but I do need my caffeine.

Would you rather listen to rock or rap music? I like both, just depends on my mood.

Have you told anyone you loved them today? No.

Do you have any songs stuck in your head? Not at the moment.

What were you doing the last time 10am came around? I think I was watching YouTube videos.

What are you planning on doing a few hours from now? I have to get ready for a doctor appointment.

What's the best gift anyone could give you? A nice vacation, ha.

Where did you get the top you're wearing? It was a Christmas present from my brother.

What was the price of gasoline the last time you saw it? I don't remember.

What's something you have a strong opinion on? My faith.

Do you like watching scary movies? Yesss.

Which is closer.. your birthday or Christmas? My birthday.

Do you keep your loose change in a piggy bank? No.

Are you planning on getting any tattoos or piercings soon? Nope.

Do you like your middle name? I do.

[terrm9]

Cieli di Toscana

Words count: 1 600

Author’s note: I love Italy and Italian language, I miss hearing it, I miss eating gelato and the sea and I like Bocelli. That’s it, that’s all you need to know to understand this fluffy useless piece. Also, I tried to translate that one line the best I can, but my Italian is mediocre at best, so if someone from Italy sees it - please, feel free to correct my translation and don’t hate me if I got it absolutely wrong.

Takes place some weeks after the OHSY Finale.

It was raining heavily as Chiara stepped into Ethan’s car, making her sigh. 

“This is absolutely terrible weather for a road trip,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, earning an honest chuckle from Ethan.

They weren’t going on a road trip. They were invited to attend a conference in New York and as much as Ethan hated those, the vision of three whole days with Chiara, out of reach of the chaos that’s been erupting in Boston ever since Edenbrook’s closing and its subsequent grand re-opening, was enough for him to make a decision to go.

The excruciating rate of their lives in those past few months has also been reason why Ethan decided to drive for four hours to New York. Four hours on their way back and another four on their way back, eight full hours of the two of them being next to each other without anyone else’s presence, with nothing better to do than to simply be together. Hell, even if Chiara decided to just sleep the whole time, those eight hours of her peaceful sleep would be worth the time spent in a car.

“Okay, if you don’t want to start with my playlist,” Chiara waved indefinitely with her phone in the hand, “you better have something else than an audio book to listen to.”

To be absolutely honest, Ethan wouldn’t mind listening to her playlist if that would serve her best, however he gestured towards the dashboard on Chiara’s side of a car.

“There should be some old CD’s in there.”

Opening a storage space of the dashboard, Chiara raised her eyebrow at him and exclaimed: “Some old what? Have you ever heard of the possibility of connecting your phone to the radio?”

Ethan resisted his urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as he was in the middle of overtaking a truck. He knew what was coming and that he didn’t dispose of any power that could stop it.

“I remember the times when the only way to listen to something of your choice in a car was to use a CD. I said they were old.”

Chiara rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide the smirk that found its way onto her face. Of course he would remember that.

“Remind me again, which dinosaur was your favorite? You know, since you were lucky enough to live among them.”

“This joke is getting old.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, knowing that they would backfire terribly.

“Yes, and so are you,” Chiara replied without missing a beat, her triumphant grin so wide Ethan was sure her cheeks hurt.

She grabbed the first CD, disapprovingly muttering under her breath.

“Vivaldi, Sinatra, Schoenberg, another Sinatra, Bocelli? I know this one,” she turned to him with Italian tenor’s album in her hand.

Ethan glanced at her quickly and nodded, encouraging her to develop her statement.

“My mom loves Bocelli, like really loves, loves. I remember when this particular album came out, I was maybe eight or nine at the time and my mom would listen to it on repeat, all day for two solid weeks,” she chuckled to herself at the memory and decided to put the CD into the radio, letting herself get lost in the memories of her childhood. “My dad was going crazy, always shutting himself in his study to listen to Queen or David Bowie. I would usually follow him and when I asked him why he didn’t tell her to turn it off, he’d just smile, shrug and say something about the music making my mom happy.”

Chiara listened to the first track, the melody all too familiar despite not hearing it for at least fifteen years. It sounded like her parents and home and love. The unconditional love her father always held for her mother, the one that grossed her out when she was a kid and caused her to have unfulfillable expectations from boys when she was a teenager.

She always dreamt of meeting a man that would love her that way, the man that would listen to the music he hated and she loved just because it would make her happy.

Shaking her head slightly to get herself out of the dangerous waters of her mind, the waters of nostalgy, the waters of infinite sadness she felt when thinking about her dad and her brother and how they would never get to decide if Ethan deserved their precious Chia, their light, she cleared her throat and read the title written on the plastic cover of the CD.

“Cieli di Toscana. Do you know what that means?” she turned to Ethan, thankful that the traffic kept him from noticing how lost she’s been for the last few minutes.  

"Skies of Tuscany," Ethan replied, not tearing his gaze of the road.

Chiara smiled to herself, her mind taking her back to all those documentaries she's seen about that part of Italy.

"They must be bewitching. Skies of Tuscany, I mean," she leaned further into her seat, the soft melody of second song making it easier to just imagine being there, far away from struggles Boston had in store for her. "Have you ever been to Tuscany?"

Ethan nodded, his sharp gaze melting slightly as his focus has been divided between driving and reminiscing his time in Europe.

"Once. I've been attending a conference with Naveen in Florence. I hardly had any spare time for sightseeing and yet the city managed to render me speechless as I walked its narrow streets."

Despite his efforts to find a better word for the city, all he could think about, back then in Florence, was how romantic its streets were. He could still remember how his whole body both loved and hated the atmosphere and how, when he surly muttered that it was city made for couples, Naveen would laugh and say: „If you are clever enough not to repeat my mistakes, you will come back with a woman of your life one day and belong to those scandalous couples.“

Another memory flashed in his mind, too bright and fresh for his liking. The one where, laying on the thick fabric of hazmat suit that protected his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks slowly, Chiara admitted that she regretted not travelling more while she could.

„I’ll take you there, when this chaos settles down and we’re allowed to take some time off. I’ll take you to Tuscany then,“ he said softly, quietly, pretending to concentrate on the road, which must have looked absolutely ridiculous as the highway was currently deserted. He hoped Chiara didn’t notice how flushed the back of his neck suddenly became.

She didn’t.

Chiara was biting her cheek, staring back and forth at Ethan and the road. Her own cheeks were colored in a bright pink color, the sincerity of Ethan’s words making her weak.

It wasn’t only the fact that he remembered about her dream of visiting Italy. It wasn’t even about the way he told her, that he would take her. It was the fact that planning his future with her came so naturally to him at this point, he didn’t even need to think about it.

Lost in her thoughts once again, Chiara didn’t notice how Ethan’s eyes widened few seconds into fourth song when the recognition hit him.

It was the song he liked the most, the song that he would listen quite often to back in the days when this album kept him company on the roads.

It was the song that, just like the city of Florence, used to make that small, almost negligible part of him wish that he had someone to share it with.

With the rain falling heavily on the windshield, Chiara couldn’t hear Ethan’s almost unaudible singing. She could’ve easily miss it, if she didn’t notice his lips moving.

„Are you singing?“ she asked, absoltutely shocked. She caught him humming various melodies sometimes, but never in her whole life would she believe to see Ethan Ramsey sing.

‚Scusi se mi innamorai in un istante di lei per

l'aria serena che ha.‘

„Absolutely not,“ he shook his head, the wave of heat on his neck becoming almost unbearable. „I am reciting the lyrics, at best.“

How cute, Chiara thought.

However, she didn’t want to ruin the moment and so instead of teasing him mercilessly, she asked: „What does it say? The part that you absolutely weren‘t singing.“

„Excuse me if I, in an instant, fall in love with her for the air of serenity she has. Very freely translated.“

„How do you know the lyrics so well?“

„I like the song.“

„Sure, liking the song is one thing, but knowing – and singing – the lyrics is another. Especially when the lyrics is as soft as this one. Is the song special to you?“

She tried to ask it as casually as she could, as if she was simply curious, when really, there was a hint of jealousy blooming in her chest.

Was the song special to him? Did he use to recite it to his first girlfriend trying to impress her?

The car stopped at the red light, giving Ethan a chance to finally look at the woman next to him fully.

„It is now,“ he nodded, smiling softly as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

The expecting and so vulnerable green eyes staring back at him made his heart flutter. At this point, it was useless to pretened that he wasn’t utterly and terribly sappy when it came to her. Taking a deep breath, just before the red light turned to green, he whispered.

„The name of the song is Chiara.“

[jonahlovescoffee]

Night Changes | J.M.

a/n this fanfic is inspired by one direction’s hit song with the same title. u can also listen to jonah’s cover of the same song here.This is the first complete fanfic I’ve ever written in my entire pathetic life and it has been rotting away in my files app for a while now lol u can see how insecure i was (and am) to put this out here but here it is anyways :’) any constructive criticism is appreciated <3 happy reading!!

summary: the death of his friend’s girlfriend made Jonah realize that nothing in life is permanent, including you.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2136

“We're only getting older, baby; And I've been thinking about it lately; Does it ever drive you crazy; Just how fast the night changes?”

It was yet another ordinary weekend night where Jonah and his band were gathered in the little studio of Daniel’s home, busy composing new music for their upcoming album without a care in the world when Corbyn’s phone rang all of a sudden.

Corbyn’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the caller ID on the screen before sliding the answer button to the right and excusing himself from the small room to take the call. No one thought much about it and proceeded with their songwriting process. However, when half an hour passed with Corbyn’s absence, that was when Jonah’s gut feeling told him that something wasn’t right. He brushed that thought off as quick as it entered his mind, trying his best to ignore the fact that he caught a glimpse of the caller ID and it was his girlfriend’s mother calling him, which was undeniably weird. As his roommate and best friend, Jonah could confirm that she had never called Corbyn unless there was an emergency. Heck, the last time she called him was when her car broke down somewhere in downtown LA and Corbyn was the only one she knew who lived close enough to pick her up.

His suspicion was soon proven right when Corbyn barged into the room seconds later with tears running down his cheeks nonstop like a river. Daniel, who was seated the closest to the door jumped up in shock just as Corbyn fell into his arms and started sobbing. The other boys made their ways to them as Daniel patted Corbyn’s back in attempt to calm him down.

“What’s wrong?” Zach asked curiously and Jack elbowed him on the arm. “Ow, what was that for?” Zach exclaimed, earning a glare from the other male that clearly said, “Can’t you wait until he stops crying to pry for answers?”

“She killed herself,” Corbyn managed to say between sobs.

“Who?” Daniel asked softly.

“My girlfriend,” the 4 boys’ breaths hitched in utter shock. None of them were expecting this news in forever. Madeline was the most cheerful and optimistic girl Jonah had ever met. She brought sunlight and joy into every room she entered. Were those traits of hers merely a mask to hide all the despair and anxiety underneath? It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“My sweetheart killed herself,” Corbyn repeated, mostly to himself with a hint of disbelief in his tone. It was evident that he was still having a hard time letting the fact sink in. “We just went out for dinner last night and now she’s gone. Forever. She didn’t even say goodbye. What should I do? How can I live without her?”

“She should’ve said something. I could’ve done so much to help her instead of letting her die just like that. I saw the scars on her hand last night but I assumed it was nothing serious. It’s my fault. I could’ve stepped in and save her but I didn’t. Why? Why?!” Corbyn screamed and tugged at his hair frustratedly.

Silence ensued, the only sound being Corbyn’s uncontrollable sobs. No one said anything because they knew that no words were powerful enough to comfort him for the time being. The most they could do was be there for him.

#

Jonah pulled up in your driveway in the middle of the night. He left his house right away after ensuring that Corbyn was sound asleep in his room in fear of his best friend trying anything stupid under the influence of tremendous grief. He knew that you were probably asleep at this hour and he should’ve waited until the morning to pay you a visit but he couldn’t wait any longer. Madeline’s death had made him realise that nothing in life lasts forever and he wanted—no, needed—to be by your side tonight to make up for the past few days of neglecting you because of work.

After some debating in his head whether to wake you up from your deep slumber like an ignorant boyfriend or just turn around and go home, he turned off the engine and rushed out of his car and onto your doorstep before he could change his mind. He used the same key you gave him months ago to unlock the front door and was then greeted by a silent pitch black, empty living room. He locked the door with a soft click behind him before tiptoeing up the stairs and entering your room. He made sure to keep his movements as silent as possible as he knew better than anyone that you were a terribly light sleeper and could be awoken easily by the softest sounds. He took off his shoes and joined you on the king-sized bed, wrapping his arms around your sleeping figure gently to pull you closer to him. He contentedly nuzzled your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo that smelled like cherry blossoms and spring air. It was only then he felt truly at ease, with you perfectly safe and sound in his arms.

As he half expected, you stirred from your sleep, wiggling your body slightly before turning towards him, your arms habitually made their way around his neck even in your half-awake state. You couldnt help but smile when you felt him tightening his arms around you like he was holding onto you for dear life. “Hey, love,” you mumbled groggily, staring up at him with droopy eyelids in your pyjamas that had bunny patterns all over them that you were more than embarrassed to be seen in by anyone but you could care less since Jonah had been your boyfriend long enough to know about your preference for childish pyjamas over mature flimsy nightgowns. “What brings you here?”

“Just wanna see you,” he replied with a smile. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took a moment to drink in your beauty—the crinkle by your eyes when you smile, you supple lips and the freckles on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moonlight that shone through the windows—all ordinary features of yours that you had never been particularly fond of but were all made perfect in his eyes. He was lucky to have the chance of calling you his, but Madeline’s unexpected death that night made him wonder how long this could last? Without realising, he let his mind drift further into the sea of uncertainties of the future, getting more anxious by the second, especially when he was met with the thought of ever losing you one day.

“Jo, are you okay?” You asked worriedly when you noticed his tense expression. He offered you a meek smile in return. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied, but his furrowed brows claimed otherwise.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that face, dear. What’s wrong?” You watched him stay silent for a while as if he was trying to come up with a suitable answer to your question.

”I just...can I stay over tonight with you?” He asked and you let out a hum in agreement, your hands rubbing soothing patterns down his back. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t managed to get rid of the old habit of asking for your permission to spend the night at your place although he knew that you would agree without hesitation every single time he did so. You wanted nothing more than to find out what was going on in his head at that moment but he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, so you pushed your questions aside for later.

Both of you stayed like that for who knew how long, unmoving, limbs tangled with each other’s as the cool night breeze wafted into the room through the opened windows. “Madeline died,” he said out of the blue, breaking the silence. Shock was an understatement to what you felt. You couldn’t believe your ears. You weren’t exactly best friends with Madeline but still close enough to hang out together occasionally when both of you were free from your hectic schedules, mainly because Jonah and her used to have a thing for each other back in high school before she got with Corbyn so there had always been a tinge of awkwardness between you two. Yet this news hit you hard all the same.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it. “When?”

“Few hours ago,” Jonah answered, his hand stroking your hair with the utmost gentleness, which prompted your tears to resume falling. He let you cry it all out without a single complaint about your tears staining his shirt. “She took her own life.”

“Why?” You sniffled and he shook his head. “No one knows; I guess even the most optimistic person on earth has her invisible demons too,” he said with a sigh.

“Is that the reason why you came here tonight?” You wiped your tears away with the long sleeves of your shirt as you took several deep breaths to recompose yourself, bracing yourself for his answer. Old feelings die hard, that was what you always hear people said, especially your first love. Part of you were scared that Jonah still harboured feelings for her even after all this years and you were nothing but an emotional support rebound tonight.

“Yes and no. I came here after hearing about the news, yes, but I’m not here to mourn about her, for now,” he added the last two words hastily in case you get the wrong idea and thought that he was being rude. You were ashamed for feeling extremely relieved that his answer wasn’t what you expected. “I came here to make up for the past few days of absence and make sure that you’re alright. Have you ever, you know, done that?”

It took you few seconds to get what he meant. “Of course not, Jo. I promise you, I never tried self-harm before, and I never will,” you replied truthfully.

“Thank god,” he sighed with relief and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, “I don’t know what I’d do if you said yes.”

“You know that you’ll be the first one I talk to if I have anything bothering me, right?” You took his hand in yours while staring at him expectantly for an answer but none came. “Jonah, please don’t tell me that you seriously think that I’m someone who resorts to harming myself when the going gets tough?”

“I...I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly which earned a sigh from you, a small smile tugging at your lips. You still couldn’t believe how this man in front of you—a confident rising boyband star—could get so worked up over a plain girl like you. He swallowed thickly before continuing, “Today made me question everything I know like how long this relationship can last—how long we’ll get to stay us until the world decides to tear us apart. We always said we’ll be together until the end of times but so did Corbyn and Madeline and look at them now. Madeline just....left without a word to anyone. I know it’s stupid but I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and now I’m being such a sap and you probably are disgusted —”

“Jonah, stop. You’re over-thinking everything. I’m not disgusted at you, not even one bit,” you raised a hand to his cheek and traced a thumb over it tenderly, knowing that this simple gesture never failed to soothe his raging emotions. “It’s normal to feel this way, love. But whenever you do, please remember this: there’s nothing to be afraid of because I love you so much, Jonah Marais Roth Frantzich, that I can never ever think of hurting myself because I know that that’ll hurt you; I love you so much that I started crying a little less, smiling a little more because I know that no matter how hard my day is, I’ll always have you to come home to.”

You watched as a tear escaped from him. “I don’t know what the future holds but I can promise you this,” you locked your eyes with his, your gaze filled with the utmost love and adoration in contrast with his worried one. “No matter how fast the night changes, it’ll never change me and you.”

“You promise?” His lips curled upwards into a small smile as he leaned in, leaving only an inch between your lips, your breaths mingling with each other’s. As always, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the close proximity as you mirrored his expression with a sweet smile of your own.

“Forever and always,” you breathed and he closed the distance between your lips, sealing the promise.

[9tzuyu]

the art of delicate hands – pt. i

[ wandanat. ]

College AU.

Multiple part series ;

↳ snippets of their relationship and how I perceive them.

sumary:

wanda doesn't like to talk very much, only to her brother (and sometimes her lovely redheaded girlfriend).

notes:

if anyone international is reading this, ASL is shortened for american sign language (language of the hands).

+

this is a revised and edited version from when i wrote it on ao3 in 2018.

The only person that knew was Pietro. It was her little secret, and she could only hope that no one now would find out. She knew she shouldn't be ashamed, it was nothing to be ashamed over. Unsurprisingly however, it became her biggest insecurity – years of relentless bullying ensued that.

Wanda was always anxious. When she was seven she began experiencing panic attacks. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth became familiar over time as her panic attacks worsened.

All because she was mute and didn't feel comfortable to speak to anyone, including her parents. The only person Wanda felt comfortable enough to talk to was her brother (you could say that's because they're twins).

A doctor in Sokovia mentioned to Wanda's parents that therapy may help, that it may get her to speak more than four words a week. So her parents moved her when she was 16 and hoped for the best.

Within a year and a half Wanda was able to develop a clear understanding of American Sign Language. Eight months into the move and Wanda's parents had given up on Wanda ever talking, something that she took personal. They didn't catch on to English as quick as the twins did, their native language stuck closer than expected. Pietro didn't mind learning English quickly as he wanted to fit in school, and he also didn't mind studying ASL to communicate with Wanda on a deeper level.

American high school wasn't much better than her hometown. People talked, whispered and gossiped about her in class, muttered hurtful things about her appearance and the way she carried herself; a shy, quiet, timid girl. The worst part of it was when they mocked her for using a language that was supposed to feel safe for her. Pietro always came to her rescue, shooing people away, reminding them that she's his sister. The silver haired boy had no problem fitting in, it was only when they were apart did people tease the younger brunette.

When their parents died, Wanda took the brunt of the emotional attack it had on the twins. She'd been sitting in the backseat of the car, earbuds in, with her music volume at maximum capacity. Her father had tried to tell her to turn down the music while her mother rest in the passenger seat, window down with her eyes closed. When Wanda didn't hear her father, he reached over, eyes off the road, and tapped her. The second she registered his touch a semi-truck hit her father's door. In a matter of minutes Wanda and Pietro both were left alone to fend for themselves.

Putting the blame on herself only caused her to shut down further. It took over a year for Wanda to speak to Pietro again.

But as per usual, the twins stuck together and finished high school. The only difference was that they lived in foster care, they belonged to the state, up for grabs if anyone wanted them. That came to an end six months into their stay. The foster family proposed the idea of adoption, they had no problem in taking care of the twins for the rest of the time being – or, if they wanted, every day after as well.

At twenty, Wanda and Pietro eventually both went to college and shared a house with a bundle of other people on campus. The younger sibling even found herself a girlfriend within the group, her name being Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha didn't mind at all how little Wanda talked. She was curious, of course, but even before their relationship Nat never pushed her girlfriend into anything uncomfortable. Natasha could tell Wanda always made effort though, that's what drove the brunette into allowing herself a relationship.

When the redhead would sleep, Wanda would continuously practice signing. She'd sign songs and poems, movie scripts and books, everything she possibly could to improve herself. It was a very personal, in touch form of language for her.

Wanda had been with her girlfriend a little over a year and Natasha still didn't know all the unpleasant factors that came about her life. Wanda only told her just enough to get by, and she felt immensely guilty for that. Truth was she desperately wanted to tell Natasha, she just didn't know how. She'd thought about just signing something to her and hoping she would catch on, but figured that would be too much. Anxiety spiked in her chest and in her bones, and she was tired of feeling like a liar.

With a sigh, Wanda plopped down on her bed and pulled her phone out from her back pocket. Unlocking it, she went to her text messages and scrolled to Pietro's contact. When she was sure no one else was in the house, she tapped the call button and listened to the phone ring until Pietro answered.

"You know I'm in the other room, right? You literally could've called my name." He greeted, accent heavy through the speaker.

Wanda giggled as she ran her fingers through her hair. You're safe. Speak, it's okay. She reminded herself.

"Yeah, but are you free?"

"Always."

"Can you come here? I need to ask you about something." Pietro gave out a loud, playful sigh but walked to her room, disconnecting the call on his way in. "What is it, my dear sister? What could possibly be troubling you here on this day? Is it that scruffy redhead?" He smirked arrogantly but sat down in the desk chair across from Wanda, not failing to notice how she rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't have scruffy hair and you know it. It's soft, gentle – and much less damaged than your shit show of an excuse for bleached hair."

"Whatever you say, little chaos."

Wanda groaned, "Why must you still call me that?"

"It suits you well."

There was a shared moment of silence between the two before Pietro spoke up. "What was it you wanted to ask me about?" A small frown was plastered on Wanda's face and Pietro found himself wanting to know even more now. Wanda waited another minute before finally answering. "Should I tell her? You know, about..."

A huge smile took over her brother's face. He was ecstatic that she wanted this for her girlfriend. "Of course you should! I really think she'd be interested to know more about you – y'know, since you don't ever tell her anything."

"I tell her things!" Pietro shook his head, "Does she even know your birthday?" Wanda nodded and turned herself away from him. "I just don't know how to do it. I mean it'd be kind of heavy just taking her out to dinner only to tell her my deepest, darkest secret afterwards. I'm scared she'll hate me, Pietro! And I've never even spoke. More than like, 12 sentences all at once with her!" He softened knowing how much trouble one past  had caused his little sister. "Write her a note?" He suggested, but she shook her head. "I want to tell her, not write her."

Right before he was about to speak again there was a knock at the door. The pair looked up to find Natasha standing in the doorway smiling down at the two. "Am I interrupting?"

Wanda froze while Pietro arrogantly raised his eyebrow and announced his answer. "No. We were just finished talking."

Confusion was written on Nat's face and she stood there until Wanda shook her head and muttered a small "No," giving her the signal that she could come in.

"I'll be in the other room if you need me." Pietro got up, despite Wanda's silent plea for him to stay. He gave her a thumbs up and left the room.

Natasha closed the door and laid next to Wanda, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. "You okay?" Wanda nodded in reply and Natasha knew not to push. For now she'd just keep an eye on her, reassuring her that she could talk to her if need be.

Over the next few days Wanda seemed to be doing better. She was supposed to go to a party with Nat, but opted out to study for classes instead.

"Be safe," she whispered and planted a small kiss on Natasha's lips.

Everyone else went to the same party, leaving the house to just Wanda. She sent out a group message telling everyone to text her or ring her (at the very most importance) if they needed a ride. Wanda didn't drink much anyways so she didn't mind being the designated driver of the bunch. And besides, she didn't mind having some time alone, it gave her the absence of the boys so she could study.

However, after over an hour or so of studying Wanda was beginning to feel stressed. Her nerves were building and she could feel her jaw clench.

She needed a break.

With a small sigh, she got up and connected her phone to her speaker. After scrolling and clicking on her song of choice, Wanda found herself signing the words to a Modest Mouse song.

Green eyes closed as her hands began to string along with the words of the song. It was rather fast paced, but Wanda was able to keep up fairly well thanks to years of practice. Lyrics flowed through her fingertips and in the palms of her hands, her stress levels immediately decreasing as she went on.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Natasha was standing in the doorway watching her every move. She was absolutely mesmerized by Wanda's hand motions. Her finger spelling was very fast, and Natasha was curious to know how long Wanda had known ASL.

When the song was over, Wanda stopped her music and moved herself so she could study again. She grabbed her pens, pencils and highlighters, along with her textbook while her back faced Natasha.

"I didn't know you could sign." Natasha commented. A mix of shock and uneasiness quickly took over the calm look on Wanda's face.

It wasn't until then when Tasha put two and two together. She quickly rushed over to her girlfriend, and carefully engulfed her into a hug.

"Hey, no, I think it's really cool. You don't have to worry now, your secret's safe with me." Wanda began to shake in her grasp, tears forming in her eyes. She backed out of the embrace and against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest.

"No, you're supposed to hate me, laugh at me. You're supposed to be anything but be cool with it." Natasha tilted her head, "Is that what they did to you?"

Wanda peaked out from underneath her arms, the confirmative nod sent Natasha's heart well beyond sinking. She’d never understand how people could willingly be so cruel.

"I'm here to listen, not judge." Her words softly echoed in Wanda's mind, and she watched Natasha carefully to see if she was lying. When she didn't make any remarks or snide comments, Wanda knew it was safe. Accent heavy, she began letting words slip from her mouth.

"I have really bad anxiety when it comes to talking, so I just don’t. Asl makes it easier to communicate, but growing up I was often teased for it. You’re really good at reading me without it, so I hid it from you. Guess their words still haunt me...” Wanda finished, giving Natasha a little more insight on her life.

Natasha moved closer to her girlfriend, bringing Wanda’s shaking body into her embrace. She then kissed the top of her forehead.

Wanda looked up to see Natasha thinking, her eyebrows scrunched together and she was chewing on her lip. She nudged her.

“I think it’s quite beautiful if you ask me.” Wanda cracked a smile and rest her head on Tasha’s shoulder. “Beauty comes from pain, I guess.”

But Natasha shook her head, “No, No, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Wanda nodded. She understood what Natasha was saying, she just didn’t believe it to be true when it came to herself. Nonetheless, she spoke the words, repeating the mantra so that maybe she could start to feel a belief in them.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

[izzytheauthor]

Peppermint Winter (Weasley Family x Weasley!Reader)

Pairing: Weasley Family x Weasley!Reader (I'm pretty sure it's gender neutral, but let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Christmas Eve is always magical at the Burrow, but there's something special in the air this year. Based on the song Peppermint Winter by Owl City.

Author's Note: I meant to have this done last night for Christmas Eve, so sorry for the delay! I don't think I've ever listened to a song as many times as I did for this fic. Thanks to my new website I now know exactly how insane I am listening to this song for 5+ hours. Whoops. I picture this fic happening in the Twin's first year and the year before you attend Hogwarts, but I suppose it can be read however you wish. Just a really fluffy fic for Christmas because it's my favorite holiday and this is one of my favorite songs.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Food, but I think that's it. Just a bunch of fluff.

General Taglist: @dogweedanddeathcaps @jenniweaslee @sanitisegermsfree @lostaurorax @loony-loopy-lupinn @freddielupin @lxvegoods

There's the snow, look out below // And bundle up cause here it comes // Run outside, so starry eyed // A snowball fight breaks out

Life at the Burrow was always a bit crazy no matter the time of year, but there was nothing quite like Christmas with your family.

This year was even better than normal. You hadn’t had a Christmas all together since Bill graduated from Hogwarts to become a curse breaker. That changed this year when he finally got to take a few days off to be with the family.

But even with the extra magic in the air that came with having your family together, there was something missing this year. Something big.

For the first time in your life, there was no snow on the ground here at the Burrow on Christmas Eve.

You had made the best of it though. You and Molly had baked dozens of cookies to give to the neighbors. Celestina Warbeck’s Christmas album had been playing every waking moment for the last week. And of course the house was decorated from top to bottom like something out of a muggle magazine (minus the stupefied gnome that topped the tree).

Christmas Eve dinner had been delicious, as usual. Molly was quite possibly the best cook in the world, and she always proved it during the holidays. The meal had been filled with smiles and laughter, as well as the occasional argument between Percy and the twins. But overall, it was everything you could have asked for from your family.

Molly passed around a tray of cookies you’d baked together earlier that day, everyone taking more than their fair share.

“These look great mum.” Charlie complimented.

You coughed dramatically and stared at him expectantly.

“And Y/N of course. How could I forget? You helped by licking the spoon.” He winked.

Your jaw dropped open, but Molly interrupted before you could get a single word out.

“Now, now. Y/N helped me decorate some of them.” She smiled, digging through the pile to find one you had done. “Ah, there’s one. Doesn’t it look wonderful?” She asked, showing off the cookie that was completely covered in frosting and sprinkles.

“It looks like a unicorn threw up on it.” Fred said, causing the table to erupt into laughter.

You sat pouting, but Molly came to your rescue.

“Well I think it looks wonderful.” She said, putting it on her plate before passing the tray to you.

“LOOK!” Ginny yelled, pointing out the window.

You almost dropped the tray in surprise before turning to see what she was pointing at.

Outside a steady stream of fluffy white flakes drifted down from the sky, illuminated by the light from the full moon. At some point during your dinner a blizzard had started outside, creating a pristine layer of snow.

You abandoned the cookies, rushing to the window and pressing your face to the glass. Within seconds you were fogging it up, but you didn’t care. You were just happy to finally see the snow.

“Let’s go!” Ron exclaimed, already out of his chair and running to the door.

“RONALD WEASLEY!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning back to face his mum with wide eyes.

“You can’t possibly think you’re going outside at this time of night.” She scolded, hands on her hips.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unsure of what to say.

Arthur looked around at the longing eyes of his children that were still trained on the window behind him and smiled.

“Now Molly, it’s Christmas Eve. Let them go play.”

“I’ll go too mum, I’ll keep an eye on everyone.” Bill added.

Everyone’s eyes drifted to their mother, waiting as she thought over her answer.

“Oh, alright!”

She had hardly gotten the words out when the sound of chairs scraping against the wooden floor filled the room, all of her children eager to get their coats on and head outside into the winter wonderland.

You were halfway to the door when you spun back to grab a cookie. As you did, you saw that Percy was still sitting at the table with your parents and you shook your head with a smile.

“Come on Perce!” You said, tugging on his sleeve.

Despite his protests, you didn’t miss the little twitch of a smile he tried to hide. You knew he loved you all, he just didn’t always know how to show it.

You and your siblings stumbled over each other trying to get your snow gear on and be the first out the door. Ron won that race having had a head start, but the rest of you followed quickly behind.

You and Ginny held hands and spun in circles together, heads thrown back and mouths open to catch snowflakes on your tongues. Giggles erupted from the two of you as you began to get dizzy, but neither of you wanted to stop.

That is until something hard hit your shoulder.

The two of you snapped your heads to the side, seeing the twins laughing to themselves.

You had hardly processed what had happened when you felt a half-formed snowball slam on the top of your head. Your jaw dropped as your hands moved to your hair, suddenly regretting that you’d forgone a hat in your hurry to get outside.

You turned to Ginny who was now laughing so hard she could hardly breathe.

“It’s every wizard for themselves!” You yelled, quickly packing a snowball and throwing it at an unsuspecting Ginny, running away before she could get her revenge.

Runny nose, my frosty toes // Are getting cold but I feel alive so I smile wide // The snowflakes start falling and I start to float // 'Til my mean older brother stuffs snow down my coat

The snowball fight died down after a while, a truce being declared when your fingers became too cold to form any more snowballs.

Unfortunately, the terms of the truce included the twins claiming victory. You all disagreed with that call, but the fight would have gone on for another hour if you hadn’t agreed with it.

You could hardly feel your toes anymore, and you’d begun sniffling about halfway through the battle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. As cold and tired as you were, you never wanted this moment to end.

While the snow was no longer untouched, you still thought it was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. The snow was still falling, but at a much slower rate, and the wind had died down as well, leaving the flakes to dance gracefully to the ground on their own. The tree branches were topped with a layer of snow, and you wondered how long it would last before it melted and turned to icicles instead. But best of all, the front yard was now home to eight snow angels, one for each of you.

A figure appeared at your side, and when you turned around you found George next to you studying the snow angels just as you had been.

“I can’t believe we got Percy to make one.”

You shrugged. “He’s not that bad.”

He turned to look at you in disbelief. “He sucks the fun out of everything. Hogwarts has been great, but he seems to be around every corner ruining all the fun. I’m sure it’ll be even worse next year if he makes Prefect like Bill and Charlie did.”

“You probably deserve it though.” You laughed, but your smile faded as you noticed the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Perhaps.” He winked.

Before you could turn around, you felt something ice cold drip down your back.

Your eyes widened as you spun around to catch Fred laughing behind you, his mittens still covered in snow.

“FRED!” You screamed. “What happened to the truce?”

He and George spun around and ran, laughing all the way.

“That wasn’t technically a snowball!” They chorused in sync.

You grabbed a handful of snow of your own, and ran after their retreating figures, determined to give them a taste of their own medicine.

All this holiday cheer // Heaven knows where it goes // But it returns every year

Molly eventually put an end to the winter shenanigans and called you all back inside. As you walked through the doorway and stripped from your winter clothes, she handed you each a mug of hot chocolate.

“Thanks mum.” You smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek as you walked into the living room to cuddle up by the fireplace.

You and Ginny sat on the floor together, sharing a blanket. It was just large enough to wrap around both of your shoulders as long as you sat close enough. The warmth that radiated from the blanket and the fireplace was nothing compared to the warmth in your heart as you looked around at the rest of your family.

Molly and Arthur sat together on the couch cuddled up together, Arthur pressing a gentle kiss to Molly’s cheek. Percy had hardly touched his hot chocolate, instead giving his complete focus to the book he was reading. Bill sat in the rocking chair with his eyes closed, gently rocking back and forth to the beat of Celestina Warbeck’s Nothing Like a Holiday Spell as it played on the radio. Fred and George sat by the tree whispering to themselves as they pointed at different presents, probably trying to guess what was inside them. Charlie seemed to be doing the same thing you were, sitting in the arm chair and stirring his hot chocolate as he looked around the room with a content smile. And you could just barely see Ron from where you were sitting. He was in the kitchen by the cookies, and you had no doubt he was stuffing his face with them.

There was something in the air tonight. Maybe it was the Christmas miracle of getting a white Christmas just hours before Christmas arrived. Maybe it was because for once in your life your family was quiet and peaceful, just enjoying each other’s company. Or maybe there was just something about the holidays that felt magical.

Whatever it was, you wanted to savor it while it lasted.

What's December without Christmas Eve?

[so-honey-sing]

the same kind of music haunts her bedroom- chapter one: Chet Baker

Julie Molina has many musical influences. This is how the many people in her life react to them. There will be gratuitous musical references and many genres mentioned, I'm not sorry. basically this was just a reason to use one of my favorite hozier lyrics as the title but it didn't make sense so I used another line from the same song which makes more sense (946 words so far, chapters: 1/?)

Read it on ao3 here 

Julie sat at the piano, playing a familiar melody, one her mother had played to her so many times. She had started learning many of the songs she grew up on as another way to keep her mom near at all times. It was a slow and tender melody, one that reminded her of nights listening to her mom play as it got dark, before she was supposed to go to bed. It reminded her of nights with Carlos as a toddler cuddled up to her and her dad under blankets while her mom serenaded them on the piano in the studio. She began to sing, the words soft, not needing to be heard by anyone but her until it was ready for her and Flynn to perform. They chose it because of what it meant to both of them. Flynn had been raised on jazz which led to her choosing the trumpet as her instrument. Rose Molina had loved the song and sang it often.

I fall in love too easily I fall in love too fast I fall in love too terribly hard For love to ever last

Her fingers gently danced across the piano keys as she crooned. She felt warmth spread through her as she remembered how her mom sounded singing and remembered the evenings spent with her family. She was so into the song, lost in the melody and lost in the muscle memory that she didn’t notice someone approaching behind her.

My heart should be well-schooled 'Cause I've been fooled in the past But still I fall in love so easily I fall in love too fast

Ray Molina had been educated on music by Rose since the very beginning of their relationship. One big influence for her that couldn’t be traced in her band’s music was Jazz. She introduced him to the legends early on in their relationship, from Duke Ellington to Louis Armstrong to Miles Davies. They spent hours in her apartment lost in conversation as the musicians soulfully sang in the background. She had shelves upon shelves of vinyl records found in small record stores, yard sales, and even some thrift stores. I Fall in Love Too Easily by Chet Baker had been playing when he first told her he loved her, knowing that contrary to the song their love would last for as long as possible, knowing he fell fast but she would protect his heart from breaking. Meeting at her show had been the catalyst for the biggest change in his life, taking him on the best journey he could’ve been on. One that ended too soon.

Watching Julie play the song that reminded him of the love he had lost brought up so much emotion in him, brought back so many memories. It had been their first dance at their wedding, with Rose softly singing the words in his ear as they swayed, the moment incredibly intimate. It was a sad song, but for them it only held good memories. It reminded him of the feeling of falling for Rose in the beginning, it reminded him of the way she glowed on their wedding day, it reminded him of nights with two small children on his lap and his wife playing for them. Every time he heard her voice, he fell just a little harder, his heart racing as he would stare in awe. He saw so much of Rose in Julie. There was her warm heart, her kindness, and her capacity to love everyone she met. There was obviously her talent that could render people speechless and amaze them. Her daughter’s frustration at times reminded him of Rose, the pair of them were both perfectionists and often times would struggle with not being able to do everything. The pair of them just felt everything so deeply, they cared so much which was evident through their passion and their love.

When she finished playing, Ray came over to sit by Julie on the piano bench. “You remind me so much of her mija. She would be so proud of you, I know it.” Her pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. Even if he couldn’t have the love of his life, he had their wonderful children to love with all his heart and to keep her in his life. He heard Julie sniffle against his chest. “Thank you dad. I miss her, but I feel so connected to her lately. I can feel her in the songs I sing, in the notes from the piano. I can see her in Carlos’ smile, he’s been smiling more recently.” She could feel tears on her cheeks, not wanting to move out of the hug to wipe them away. “I think he’s happy to have music back in our lives, to have your mom’s passion back in our lives. I know I am. I love that you and Flynn chose this song, I love that you have the boys and Flynn to help you rediscover your love for music. I’m so glad for you to be able to honor her in this way, I know she’s watching every time you sing. I know she is loving every second of it, just like me. Hearing you play this song; it was like she was back. I haven’t been able to listen to it until I heard you, and it brought back all of the good. Thank you, mija.” The pair stayed cuddled up until Carlos came to find them and he joined in, bringing Julie back to the nights curled up listening to their mom sing to them. Julie knew they would be okay.

[nekomapi]

chp 1 🎶 a light in your eyes that keeps shining

Shouto stared at the keys in front of him; the black and white rectangles blurred together as he spaced out. He had been running this piece all afternoon and he couldn't be more bored with it if he tried. Each time sounded just as good as the last, but he kept on practicing- leaving no room for the possibility of error. Less errors meant less scolding from his father.

His instructor didn't have any clients this afternoon and told him he could use the piano for as long as he wanted. He took lessons here twice a week when his father had other obligations and couldn't supervise, which also meant he never had much time for himself. Luckily, these two days were such a breath of fresh air from the usual routine that he always looked forward to them.

He let out a heavy sigh as he stretched his fingers and his arms. It was so peaceful; the warm sunlight pouring through the windows, golden hues illuminating the shiny surface of the grand piano. The whole room bathed in incredible warmth, something his house felt completely devoid of.

He couldn't remember how long he had been sitting there, but it felt like hours. He yawned as he glanced at the clock, his eyes slowly trailing over to the mahogany drum set that stared at him from the corner of the room. He had looked at it longingly for about 6 months, ever since he started his lessons here. There were so many different components and they seemed so complex, like a different world he was unaware of.

His curiosity itched to no end and he finally gathered the courage to walk over to it, grazing the drumhead with his fingers as he sat on the stool. His teacher had gone on an errand and he knew she wouldn't be back for a little while. Picking up the black wooden drumsticks, he started tapping gently on each piece to test the different noises they each made. After a few minutes of self-containment, he couldn’t help but let loose. He banged the different sized drums, smashed the symbols and kicked the bass pedal intermittently, with no direction and no sheet music to follow along with. It was the most exhilarated he had felt in a long time. He played with such enthusiasm that sweat started to accumulate on his brow as he lashed about without a care in the world. He didn't notice this rarity himself, but throughout his messy performance, his face was plastered with a playful grin. His focus shifted upwards as his eye caught a glimpse of a figure and he jumped up, almost tripping over the bass drum. A young girl was leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed and a smirk playing at her features. She couldn't help but find his clumsiness amusing.

Locking on her gaze, he instantly recognized her from the family photos on his teacher's desk. It was her daughter and he didn't know much about her, besides the few details she had mentioned to him in the past. Apparently she was exceptionally talented in multiple instruments and attended a very esteemed music academy in the city. The way she always beamed when she spoke of her, made it obvious how proud she was, and that shamefully always stung him. The only pride ever displayed from his father never felt out of love and his mother, well she was a different story.

"I... I'm sorry I uh...shouldn't have-"

She interrupted mid-sentence, holding up her hand and walking towards him, "Don't apologize! I'm the one who should apologize for startling you during your performance." She smiled and jokingly added," I'm going to guess that was your first time playing? If not, well then my mother might have lost her touch."

"That was the first time." He stood up straighter, trying to play off his embarrassment by transitioning into his usual stoic gaze. "I was just... curious is all."

"Ah. Well I have to say, you look good back there."

"Thanks," he mumbled, his cheeks feeling hot as he put down the drumsticks and started to back away from the drum set.

"Whoa, not so fast." She was at his side quickly and pushed him back towards the seat. He looked at her, confusion written on his face as he sat back down. She picked up the drumsticks, effortlessly twirling one around in her fingers. "Consider this your first lesson." Something about her made him feel at ease and he couldn't think of an excuse to refuse. He nodded in agreement and she grinned.

She didn't waste any time before naming each component and explaining the proper technique and form, including fixing the way he held the drumsticks. He admired how she spoke with such emotion, using her hands when trying to emphasize her opinion and the way her eyes lit up when she rambled on about what aspects she thought were the most important in order to be a good musician. It wasn't just her bright green eyes or that faint smell of gardenia that reminded him of her mother, but it was that burning passion towards music which was so evident in their words and motions. He longed to have that kind of burning emotion towards it as well. He soaked in every word, not wanting to forget a single thing she said--- or how her hair glistened against her smooth, freckled skin.

After going over the basics for about twenty minutes, she demonstrated a few basic drum beats. Once she ran through them a few times, she handed him back the drumsticks, gesturing for him to try. He followed her instruction, recreating the beat under her guidance. It wasn't hard for him to catch on. She stood back and watched as he seemed to effortlessly repeated the sample over and over, even adding in little changes while increasing the tempo each time. It was wildly impressive and after a few minutes, she spoke again. "Can I ask you something?'

"Go ahead," he responded, still focused on keeping a beat.

"Do you actually enjoy playing piano?"

He stopped and turned to face her. "What makes you ask that?"

"Well, I heard you playing Einaudi earlier, many times through I might add. And don’t get me wrong... you play wonderfully! Probably with some of the best form I've ever heard from someone our age. It's just... it sounded a bit— robotic, or like it wasn’t coming from the heart." She pushed herself off the wall and walked to the other side of the drum set. "Listening to you play just now, and before when I came in and interrupted you, something just feels different. It's like I could finally hear you in it."

"But you've only just met me..." he stated bluntly. "How could you know something like that?" There was no doubt that he was experiencing a bit of freedom in himself today, but her analysis suddenly had him feeling a little exposed and embarrassed. These unexpected emotions were new to him.

"I'm sorry... it was just a feeling I had. I didn't mean to pry." She fell silent for a moment, having felt slightly bad for how he reacted. She chuckled in hopes to lighten the mood. "I guess with that rad hair you just totally have that whole badass drummer vibe going on." She leaned back, framing his face with her fingers and staring at him through the opening. "I mean, who wouldn't want to be the next John Bonham."

"John Bonham?"

She gestured towards a framed record on the wall behind him, feeling thankful to change the subject. "Only one of the best drummers to ever grace the face of the earth." She walked over to her backpack and pulled out her phone, unraveling the headphones wrapped around it. She tapped on the screen a few times and then handed it over to him.

His tone was quizzical as he read off the name, "Fool in the Rain by ...Led Zeppelin?"

"Have you really never heard of them?"

Shouto shook his head and her mouth dropped.

"Alright well... take it all in buddy," she motioned towards the ear buds.

He put them in his ears, pressed play and stared down at the phone as the song started. It didn’t take long for him to be hooked, zoning in on the drums and how they effortlessly worked with the other instruments to form the melody. His head started to move with the beat, following along with its rhythm. He could identify the specific sounds of each component he had learned. It's like something clicked and he understood when she had said that a good drummer can make all the difference to how the song comes together. It was the first time he had actually "heard" a piece of music. Don't get him wrong, he knew the piano could be an incredibly moving instrument, but nothing had ever spoken to him personally like this. The song was about halfway through when it suddenly paused.

"Uh, someone named ... Boomer is calling." He handed her the phone.

"Oh!" she said, glancing up at the clock as she scrambled to answer.

‘What kind of name is Boomer?’ he thought.

"Hey! Sorry if you've been waiting, I lost track of time. I'll head over n--- ....I SAID I WAS SORRY....... It's none of your business ya punk! Just chill out, I'll be there soon!" She groaned in annoyance and ended the call, "I gotta go."

She walked to where a few guitars hung on the wall and took down a black and white Gibson, placing it in the case that was on the floor beneath it.

"You play guitar too?" Shouto asked. He wasn't really surprised as his teacher had already told him in the past that she played multiple instruments. He didn't know why but for some reason he wanted to continue being in her company for just a little longer.

"Among other things, yeah. I get bored if I stick to one thing for too long."

"Dividing your efforts into multiple instruments has to make mastering one pretty difficult," he stated matter of factly.

"I think you and I may look at music a little differently. I don't play an instrument with the need to master it. I play because of how it makes me feel. I let the instrument guide me where it needs to go, not the other way around. I guess, I just don't see the point in doing something if it doesn't set my soul on fire, ya know?" She zipped up the guitar bag and walked back towards him, holding out her hand. "I'm Ronnie by the way."

He walked around the drum set and shook it. "Todoroki, Shouto." She was staring at him intensely, making him shift uncomfortably. "What is it?" he asked a bit harshly, feeling conscious about his scar.

"Oh! Sorry- ha! I was just admiring that rockstar hair of yours again." She flashed him a rock and roll sign, though he didn't understand the gesture. It wasn't just the hair that had her mesmerized, but the smooth, burned skin around his eye. She felt sad that she found it so beautiful, without knowing what kind of pain was behind it.

"Thanks? I guess." He looked away, putting his hands in his pockets.

She smiled. "It kind of reminds me of Christmas morning." He looked back at her, his cheeks feeling warm again.

"Well, I guess I'll see ya around, Shouto."

His mouth went a bit dry at the familiarity and he nodded. "Yeah. See ya."

She turned and walked out of the room. He listened as the front door opened, feeling an odd knot in his stomach as it closed. He grasped at the sensation over his shirt and went over to sit back down at the piano. He couldn't pinpoint what exactly this feeling was, but it had made him feel SOMETHING, so he relished in it. Grabbing his phone from out of his pocket, he opened up Apple Music and typed in a song. He closed his eyes, his lips twitching up slightly as "Fool in the Rain" started to play through the speakers.

_________________________

♫ music selection ♫

Ludovico Einaudi - Nuvole Bianche

Led Zeppelin - Fool in the Rain

this was the first chapter of my abandoned BNHA music AU (+ a few HQ!! crossovers)... but i think it works as a cute standalone piece. recently been debating on resurrecting this fic or just using the existing material for hcs or scenarios... hmmm 🤔

xo n.pi

[13tying-you-to-me]

Dear, @taylorswift

I'm Adriane, I live in Acre, northern Brazil, I'm 24 years old today, but when I met you, I was only 14 years old. I would like to tell you a little about myself, I am not fluent in English, so I needed to translate this into some translator. Forgiveness for the mistakes. That is if they come to you one day.

The first time I saw a picture of you was in a Brazilian teen magazine called Capricho, with an approach "have you heard of Taylor Swift? No? Then it's time to meet the little princess of the country". I remember it as it was today, its long, bulky, shiny gold curls. It didn't take long for me to fall in love. In the same year, you made a cameo in a movie singing your song Crazier and it became my favorite song for years.

My God, that was the beginning of a great love.

At various times in my life you have been there. Your music was there and helped me stand when I thought it would no longer be possible.

I didn't mention it before, but by 2008 I had already lost my father due to depression and he ended up committing suicide. And the year after I met your work and started buying a lot of magazines that dealt with you, my mother was a victim of murder. Just the year you launched Speak Now. And I was Haunted. But I needed to move on, I was still 15 years old and despite all the pain I carried, there were my grandparents and my uncles who also felt the same pain of loss that I felt and I needed to be strong for them. I needed to finish my studies and move on.

But it was not easy.

2010 was not an easy year.

But the music helped, otherwise I would freak out, no? After all what a 15 year old girl is without her mother? Your confidant? Then I listened to you.

The song Soon You'll Get Better breaks my heart because I just understand you.

Continued... I looked for ways to import your CDs, because here in Brazil was not so easy to get them. It was 3 now and I get the deluxes too (yes, baby).

But depression caught me and I cut myself. Not because I wanted to die, but I can't say why either. Maybe because I had no one to talk to. Maybe because I knew that everyone had their pain and I didn't want them to have to deal with mine either. So in 2010 and 2011, I was torn between her albums, Grey's Anatomy, my 3rd year of high school, and my wrist cuts to ease my emotional distress.

Then came 2012, I went to college, I was going to be 17 years old. By now everyone knew I was crazy about you, but I didn't know about my self-mutilations. I won the RED album from a college friend and cried a lot thinking about my first love listening to The Last Time and I Almost Do. Because how many times I almost call him?

4 albums, a growing love in my chest. Permanently marked.

2014. Shake It Off. I missed class at college and missed that live in August, ops! I was so excited! Loved every second of the video release. JUST SHAKE IT OFF, B A B Y!

But in 2016 came one of the worst moments of your life and, coincidentally, mine too, which lasted until mid-2017. Luckily, you were reborn from the ashes, and I also managed to get back on my feet. It was also the last year I self-mutilated.

I remember the ecstasy of reputation, it was wonderful. Each phase of yours is. Your maturation over the years has been impressive and I appreciate the lessons you have given me, helped me endure the most difficult times of my life. Lover in 2019 is sublime. One of your best creations, I dare say. I love all your songs without exception. All of them have made me feel a lot of unexplained emotions, but the album Lover is something different. Extraordinary. No matter how many times I listen, how many times I sing, how often I play the songs in my car while driving, I always get goose bumps. I simply love it... It's like everything that's missing in my life so far. In fact, his works cause this sensation in me. Whenever you release something new, it's like it's all that is missing for me and I can't imagine how you can excel in your next chapter and you excel. EVER. I would like to be like you. You inspire people. I love you woman. You are wonderful. Today, despite everything I've been through, I'm fine. Actually, I was fine. But now I'm afraid. I live with anxiety and I am afraid of depression coming back. The person who killed my mother will get out of jail this year and I don't know what to expect. The only thing I know is that next week I will try to get tickets for your concert in Brazil on July 18 in Sao Paulo. I look forward to achieving it. Otherwise I will cry a lot. It may seem silly to love a person I don't even know, but I feel I know you because of your works of art that live in my heart and fill me with love and hope.

My dream is to meet you in person and take a picture with you, literally. I have dreamed of this moment several times, but it is frustrating to wake up and know that it was not real and probably never will be. Another thing I would very much like to tell you and which I find funny is that you have no idea how happy I am when I see that you are happy. You seem to be in the best phase of life and it fills me with happiness. I hope that is true, because there is nothing I hope for more in life than for your happiness!

With love,

Adriane

15.10.2019

[bowieemeddow]

TRINITY. (Queen Fanfiction)

Part 1 // Runaway.

Summary: Margaret McCullugh comes to the realisation that her life is a total mess. After an argument she realises she’s had enough; she grabs her bags and runs away.

Note:Hi guys this is the first chapter of my new fanfiction. I’m not the best writer and this is my first time so please go easy on me; there will be grammar and spelling mistakes throughout this chapter. Feedback will be greatly appreciated 🙂

Warnings; Swearing, sexual assault, bad writing, slight Scottish slang (I’m from Scotland and I write the way I talk sorry 😉✌🏻)

Enjoy.

Thursday // May 1970

"I've never wanted to punch him in the face more in my life than at this point of time." I thought to myself as I glared at him across the dining table. Even from what felt like a mile away; I could still see that smug look on his Greg's face.

"Margret! Are you even listening to me?" I tore my focus from my bastard of a step father to my bastard of a mother. "You'll be meeting Thomas next thursday remember. To talk about arrangements."

Ah Thomas Russel. Son to a millionaire family; him being a successful doctor in the making at 22 and is apparently a distant relative of some foreign royal family (to be fair I wasn't listening to the shit leaving my mothers mouth)

The cherry on top of it all; I've never actually met the boy and I'm his fiancé.

"Poor Thomas." Gina; my younger sister mumbled under her breath while eating her dinner.

"Mind your own business you little shit!" I spat kicking her harshly under the table. Believe me I know this makes me look bad but I promise you I'm not a bad sister; I was actually excited when I found out I had another sibling on the way. I loved her even when she was a newborn. It was when she started talking; she turned into a sneaky little bully and mummy's favourite.

"That's enough don't you dare kick your sister again!" She snapped at me.

I cringed at my mothers comment; more because of the way she said it. Trying to act as posh as possible; trying to mask the natural Glaswegian accent she's had her whole life; the same thick apparently "rough" accent I also have yet Gina never developed it as bad as me, my dad had the rough accent and I was a daddy’s girl... before he left us.

"Why do I have to marry him. I didn't him pick him, hell I haven't even met him! Marrying me off to becoming nothing but a trophy wife? Fully dependable on my husband with a big empty house full of loads of children. Nothing to do except cooking and cleaning-"

"Can we please change the topic?! I don't feel like sending you upstairs again." My mum sighed

"Oh mother!" Gina exclaimed making me jump; her bloody voice goes right through me.

"This dinner is absolutely amazing!" I chuckled to myself quietly, Gina is so far up mums arse it's embarrassing.

"Thank you darling I made it myself."

Yeah right did she make this shit, she doesn't even know how to use the stove, it was the cook that made it. All of it is vegan since "meat is the reason why your acne is so bad and you've starting to lose that figure Margaret, you simply don't take proper care of yourself."

“Oh god I forgot! I was meant to take you bra shopping today.” Mum informed Gina

“But she’s only 13 mum. I never got my first bra till I was 15?” I argued, Gina got everything she wanted without having to even lift a finger.

“You should go with them Margaret. You wear too small a bra better go up a size sweets." He smirked away as he took a drink of his wine that's likely more expensive than everything I own.

At that point I was so pissed off I grabbed the closest thing to me which was a potato from my plate funnily enough and threw it at his head. If I wasn’t so pissed off I think would’ve found it difficult to keep a straight face.

Friday// May 1970

While sitting in period 7 English I thought back to last night.

After successfully hitting Greg's big head with a potato for his inappropriate comment about his step daughter's breasts; Mum took his side and got sent upstairs without eating anything for the rest of the night; not like I wanted to eat any of that shit anyway.

"God he's so cute!" The girl next to me squealed to her friends who were both in front of her; their chairs turned from their tables to form a circle that I was sadly apart of. I wasn friends with the three girls; Tracey, Yasmine and Gemma were the popular girls, the best housewives in the making.

I looked down at the newspaper which Tracey had in her hands, it was crumpled up due to her "fan girl" moment taking over her senses.

"The Gregory Special." The newspaper was called;

Only rich wankers read it.

"Thomas Russel is ready to settle down but who's the lucky girl?"

It said with a picture of the boy himself below it . Wasn't his best picture; he was probably flirting with some random girl in while the photo was being taken.

"So who is the bitch huh?" Gemma spat as Tracey read away at the newspaper trying to figure it out.

"YOU! Mrs Reynolds wants to see you in her office.” My English teacher shouted pointing at me it made the three girls jump back to their original spots as if they were actually listening to the lesson.

Shit what have I done now; I usually lose track at this point.

While putting my things in my bag I looked over at the three girls to see them scanning back through the newspaper frantically to find out who the "lucky woman" was.

I accidentally let out a chuckle of sympathy which caught their attention.

“I’m sorry, is there something you want to say?” Jemma snapped.

"Yeah I do actually since you three can't read for shit. Page 24." I sassed back and waited a moment.

"Margaret McCullugh? Who the bloody hell is that?!" I rolled my eyes at the stupidness.

"Margaret McCullugh. Now." My teacher shouted across the classroom which I nodded to standing up and grabbing my bag and coat with a grin on my face.

The three girls had their mouths wide open once they put two and two together; it was me.

"Bye girls." I whispered chuckling while leaving the classroom.

...

"Please tell me you are joking Miss McCullugh?" Mrs Reynolds pleaded with me

"What's wrong with what I want to do once I leave here?" I argued back.

"Your mother is a politician; she could bloody well be the prime minister in a several years time. How is she gonna get there with her child wanting to do.... textile design?" She gagged at the though of me becoming something that wasn't a doctor or lawyer.

"Why does it fucking matter anyway I can't even do what I want. My mums already set up my whole life." I argued back slouching in my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

Fuck being ladylike.

"Ah your talking about your engagement with Thomas Russel. Your mother wants you to just be okay, she's worked hard for where she is right now and it was a risky thing she done to get there. She doesn't want you taking any risks when you go onto be a politician or a lawyer-"

"Or a textile design artist." I corrected for her not giving in to her manipulation.

"Margaret I know you okay. Through these past 6 years that you've been in this school you've been very strong willed and feministic attitude to social issues and topics."

"Damn right-"

"But I'm sorry to burst your bubble but this is a patriarchal society we are living in. Woman will not change society. Ever."

I was beyond pissed at this moment of time. I shot up off my seat and slammed down both my hands on her desk in order to shut her up.

"Fucking watch me then!”

...

Saturday // May // 1970

"Hey chickadee." Tana smiled as she came into one of the private rooms of the pub, she lifted my feet and plopped herself next to me in the booth then put my feet back down to they were resting on her lap.

"Hi." I said stretching slightly as I shut my notebook over immediately and set it down on the table.

Tana was probably one of my only friends at this point of time; the moment she turned 19 she was allowed to decorate her parents bar; to which she called me up and asked to borrow my creative mind for help. Before it was just an old looking bar where young ones likes to hang out; now it was a modern neon, rock music bar.

"Glam Rock" it was called and it was placed in a more poverty ridden area of Glasgow. If my mum found out I was here I'd get murdered.

Every Saturday night people from everywhere would come here and celebrate a new "generation" as they called it.

"This new rock generation is gonna grow everywhere. Where men dress like women and women dress like men. Completely and utterly flamboyant!" I remember Tana saying to me when I first came across this bar; it was a Saturday morning and she was getting ready for a party. I was here because I was trying to find the record shop since they sell limited editions for half off.

"We just need someone to spread Glam Rock to every corner of the world."

"HELLO EARTH TO MARGARET!" She shouted snapping her fingers in front of me.

"Huh?" I said snapping back to reality.

"I said were you writing something?" She said pointing to my notebook, I didn't answer yet again because I was too busy admiring what she was wearing.

"For fuck sake! Have you took something?" She laughed trying to get my attention again.

"Sorry, sorry just had a long day. Thinking about what kind of punishment I'll get this time once I make my way home." I chuckled

"Anyways what did you say again?"

"Writing songs... oh and you've also got your camera."

"When am I not writing songs or taking photos Tana?" I said sitting up to grab my vodka and lemonade and down it.

"That's very true. So, let's see what photos you took." She said as she pulled off her slip on heels so she could fold them in a basket.

I put down the two photos I took on the table.

"Have you got a pen." I asked her as she admired the photos.

"Umm.. yeah I think somewhere in they drawers." She said turning her head to the left to show me where it was.

"This bar does look fucking amazing, you have to admit it."

"It's because I decorated it Tana. I hate to toot my own horn here but I'm fucking brilliant at decorating." I laughed as I took one of the photos and wrote the location and date behind it; then done the same with the other.

"You're good at everything you do it does my head in." Tana complained with a groan as she ran her fingers through her black long curly hair.

"I'm not."

"You are. You can paint, you create these amazing clothes, you can play the piano like no one else. You're an amazing singer..." my smile dropped as I grabbed both the photos from Tana's grip and stuck them in my bra for safekeeping before sticking the the pen back in the drawer; the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, or more like you could here me slamming the drawer shut.

"Maggie-"

"I'm not a singer." I said interrupting her.

"Correction, your mum says your not a singer. But frankly love, you're  the best singer I've ever heard. You should join a band."

"That'll never happen."

....

Sunday // May 1970

Walking up the driveway of my massive house barefoot with my heels in my hand, my make up and hair a mess I knew I was in for it.

I accidentally fell asleep at Tana's last night and now it's 8am in the morning.

I walked in the house and shut the door behind me.

"MARGARET BEATRIX MCCULLUGH!" I heard my mum screech as the sound of her heels became louder and louder.

"God don't say my middle name." I cringed with my face scrunched up; a massive migraine was starting to take its toll on me.

"Where were you?" She shrieked once again; I'm starting to see stars with how bad my freaking headache is. It's way to bright in this house.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep at Tana's I should've called you it's my mistake I won't let it happen again."

One thing to know about me; when I'm in the wrong I apologise.

One thing to know about my mum; she throws my apology right back in my face and calls me immature.

"TANAS!" She started to trail behind me as I clumsily made my way up the stairs to my bedroom door. Once I reached the door I got an overwhelming feeling that I was about to vomit so I stopped for a moment to calm myself down.

I leaned my forehead against the cool marble that the whole house was made from to cool myself down.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU! NO GOING TO ROCK GLAM, NO DRINKING, NO KISSING RANDOM GIRLS OR BOYS."

She caught a glimpse at my notebook; purple velvet and green floral exterior. She knew exactly what it was and snatched it from my hand.

"Hey!-"

"AND NO MAKING SONGS. NO SINGING SONGS I TOLD YOU NOT TO SING OR WRITE THEY DIRTY LYRICS."

I snatched the book from her and held it right to my chest. This book was my lyrics, my ideas, my thoughts, feeling. My whole life.

"ITS CALLED ROCK MUM! Get with the times, it's the Beatles that are popular now, not fucking hymns." I snapped as I walked into my room. Before I got the chance to shut the door over she was already invading my space.

"I don't give a shit what it's called. Stop it okay! That part of your life is over. It's time to grow up and face reality. You are engaged-"

"I'm not marrying him you can fuck right off." I looked at her through my full length mirror as she walked up to me. Her expensive heels clicking against my flooring as she walked closer to me.

"You're an ungrateful human being you know that. I found you a man; a millionaire who can take care of you for life you won't have to work a day in your life-"

"Yeah that's what I'll do, I'll go right ahead and marry a man I don't marry so that I'll birth all his kids and be his perfect dumb trophy wife for life. You worked hard to get where you are, why can't I work hard in something I wane you do. I don't need a man to do that." I said smothered in sarcasm making my mother roll her eyes.

"You and your bloody pride. Here's the real world Margaret; a woman's purpose main purpose in life is to get married and as the bible preached, have children. You'll never be anything different." She spat.

"You're going to the Russel's household on Thursday morning  for you to plan the wedding with your fiancé with a big bloody smile on your face you hear me?"

I chuckled softly as I walked up so our faces our almost touching; her Chanel No.5 tickling my nose.

"I'd love to see you try." I spat in her face. I suddenly gasped as her hand connected with my cheek forcing my face to the side as my cheek started to warm up almost instantly.

"I hate you, you're not my daughter you know! I should've aborted you when I had the chance you know that! If it killed me oh well, as long AS YOU WHERE NEVER BORN." She screamed in my face, she turned to leave my room to meet Greg leaning against the door frame.

"Are you okay Darling?" Greg asked my mum; his voice all sweet and soft making my scoff and roll my eyes.

She ignored him and left in anger.

"Would you get the fuck out of my room?!" I asked, his head snapped from watching my mum as she made her way down the landing and down the stairs to me.

"Seems you need to be put in your place a bit huh?" He asked as he walked up to me, so close to my face I could feel his breath hit my skin.

"I don't see the bad thing about being a trophy wife Sweets? You'd be a damn good one anyway."He chuckled as he looked at me up and down licking his lips. His hands were resting on my arse ready to give it a spank. A sudden spur of anger and confidence caused me to push him back.

"Touch me again and I swear I'll rip your tongue out."

"You don't have the guts." He simply said before leaving the room.

He's right I didn't have the guts, I didn't have the guts to go to the police and ruins my mother's career that she worked so hard for when it got out to the media that her husband is a child molester.

So Ive kept my mouth shut for years.

I feel hot years fill my eyes, I take a long deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down while looking up at the ceiling to try and stop the crying; I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

That's when I found myself packing a suitcase, grabbing my passport, some money I had. A couple of outfits to keep me going two or three weeks.

I grabbed my notebook, my Polaroid camera and my box full of Polaroid's and squashed it all into one massive suitcase.

I had to leave the rest so I could move quickly.

___

An hour later my family left to go out for lunch without me. I sat at the window and watched them leave.

I watched them get smaller smaller until eventually I couldn't seem them at all.

I would never see them again.

I grabbed my suitcase, grabbed the keys to my mums car and fucked off out of there with the intention of never returning again.

_____

I just had to put Harry Styles in there somewhere.

Sorry not sorry 🤪😩

[procrastinating-story-writer]

Bonds that Bind Us

Chapter Two:

Summary:

Connecting with someone is not necessarily a bond with a significant other, or even a friend, but can be the indefinable - perhaps the rarest and most precious thing in life to find at all.

Donna Lynn Hope

Loki sat puzzled as he observed his 'overseer' as she paced the room she called the sitting area. After Omidah quickly took himself and Thor to his designated floor, she dismissed his brother, told him to get comfortable, pulled out some sort of talking device and ignored him ever since.

Next he couldn't wrap him mind around the fact she was being nice to him or why she didn't seem to be the slightest uncomfortable around his presence, and why she looked excited the first time she looked his way. It was confusing and it made him angry.

Omidah on the other hand was trying to get Fury off the phone as quickly as possible but it seemed that her efforts were futile. She could feel Loki's aura of boredom; this was not how she wanted to leave a first impression (which won't really matter to the royal trickster either way but its the thought that counts at least).

"Pennwinkle are you even listening to me?" She rolled her eyes "what else could I be doing since you just keep talking"

"Don't sass me woman, I can revoke your privileges and have you confined to the tower."

"Do that and I'll tell everyone what happened in Fiji."

"You wouldn't dare!

"Try me boss." She said in a sing song voice.

Fury started grumbling profanities under his breath. "Just keep me informed about your progress." Fury hung up.

Omidah moved the phone as the dial tone came on, watched the screen blankly and gave a small yet audible snarl. "Did that chili eating mother--ass just hang up on me!? I see. Alright Fury, we'll see who has more balls than the other."

Sticking the phone into her pocket, she turned her attention back to Loki. His facial expression was neutral but his eyes showed anger. Just great.

"I'm really sorry about that. My boss just doesn't know when to shut up."

Loki did not answer her. He got up, made his way to the shelves of books and picked out one, then returned to the couch. Omidah smiled at his choice 'William Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice' she loved that one.

"Are you hungry?" Silence

"Is there anything I can get you as you wallow in silence?" More silence.

"Have you always been so reticent? It will do you no good to just sit there and ignore me. I just want to help."

"Then don't mortal. You're very annoying."

"Is that the best insult you got? I already know I'm a mortal wise arse; you can do better than that your lordship. Come on throw another insult." Omidah's voice was dripping with sarcasm and a wide smile was on her face as she looked at Loki.

Loki on the other hand grew angry at her taunt and slammed the book shut.

"What's the matter God of Mischief, no come back? I must say this is a let down. Wuss."

Loki quickly walked towards the annoying female with murderous intent and grabbed her upper arms, lifting her off the ground.

"For the death of Odin, what is your problem you mewling quim!? Do you wish for me to destroy you? Do you have any idea who I am and what I can do to you?"

Omidah continued to smile as she looked into Loki's breathtaking blue-green eyes. Just being elevated at his eye level, she leaned in her face and planted a quick kiss on Loki's nose; giggling as she moved away.

All of Loki's anger vanished and replaced by utter confusion.

The look on Loki's face caused Omidah to burst into a fit of giggles. The sound spreading throughout the room, filling it and caused Loki's heart to do a weird flip but he quickly pushed it aside.

"I'm really sorry, I don't mean to be so happy but its just that, believe it or not, I've always wanted to do that if I ever got the change to meet you.

It's so good to finally say that I can scratch that off my bucket list; kiss the God of mischief on the nose." She said matter of factly.

Loki gave her that 'I-truly-believe-you're-really-dumb' kind of look.

"Now Loki are you hungry? I'm sure you haven't eaten a full course meal in quite some time and I'm happy to cook for you if you'd let me."

Loki just continued to watch the strange girl he was holding, trying to find something, anything, that would reveal if she was playing him for a fool; there was absolutely no way any sane person, who knows of his reputation would be happy to do anything with him. Alas, he could find nothing but pure glee in her hazel eyes.

"Come on Loki, as much as I enjoy looking into your eyes, I too am hungry. So, can you please put me down, lasagna is calling out to me."

Finally able to register her words, he slowly placed her down "What game are you playing mortal?"

Omidah arched a brow at his sudden question "I don't understand the question. If you're referring to why I'm not afraid of you, it's because I'm not."

"But you are aware of the things I've done or of the people I've killed on this pathetic planet, have you not?"

She could hear the irritation in his voice, whether it be from the realization that he is now on said planet he caused havoc or something else entirely, she wasn't sure.

"Yes, I'm fully aware of all that you've done and what you're capable of doing but I can't comprehend what that has to to with, why I can't be nice to you or simply talk to you." Sighing she crossed her arms and gave him her full attention.

"I want you to fully understand something. My world has people in it that has done a lot of bad things to good people, some still continue to do so. I work for an organization that kills those type of people and my hands are stained with the blood of a few.

"Everyone in this tower has killed someone, whether it's to save the lives of people, revenge, brashness and cockiness or in your case trying to concur this world. The reason you're labeled the 'bad guy' its because you chose to be all flashy about it; making yourself a spectacle, parading in front a crowd of people who recorded you and post it around the world and to put the cherry on top the ice cream Sunday, you went and brought an alien army through a large hole in the sky, attacking one of the largest cities in the world." Omidah let out a sigh.

"Look all I'm trying to say is, no one's a saint in this place, we all have our reasons for doing what we do. I just don't want you feel like you're the only screw up. The others may or may not be judgmental towards you and I know you won't give a dam but I want you to know that I'll be looking out for you, Okay?"

Loki snickered "I don't need a mere mortal to look out for me."

"Well you really don't have much of a choice. I'll be looking out for you whether you like it or not, plus you really shouldn't think little of us mortals, we can surprise you. Have you never heard the saying, don't underestimate your opponent? Now if you don't mind, please follow me so I can prepare dinner."

With that she turned on her heels and headed towards the elevator, which opened automatically for her.

Loki stepping in after her, each opposite the other.

"Good evening miss Penwinkle and Mr. Laufeyson, where can I take you."

Omidah smiled "J.A.R.V.I.S, good evening to you too and please call me Omidah, the formality is too much."

"If you wish miss."

"Thank you, will you please take us to the main lounge? I'm going to prepare dinner."

"I see. The others will be quite excited about dinner; would you like me to notify them the moment you've finished?"

"Sure that would be great, thank you."

At the end of the short conversation, they arrived at the desired floor.

"Your stop miss. Have a good evening."

Omidah chuckled realizing he's never going to address her by her first name.

"Thanks a lot JARVIS. Catch you later. Come on Loki, this is going to be so much fun."

Loki scoffed at her enthusiasm as they passed the seating area and headed into the large kitchen.

"I fail to see how cooking is fun. Its a maids' chore if you ask me."

Taking no offense, Omidah tied her hair with chopsticks and put on her apron.

"Just have a seat on the bar stool and here,"

Taking a book from behind her back, she placed it in-front for him. Loki realized it was the same book he took from the shelves earlier. How did she get it without him noticing?

"I've been told you love to read, so I organized for that library to be on your floor and while I prepare dinner this will help you pass the time."

Loki couldn't figure her out; She was strange. Then he saw her remove her footwear and placed them by the door of the kitchen; he was more puzzled.

Omidah saw his puzzled look as she returned back into the kitchen; she chuckled.

"This is something I do when I prepare meals; it warns everyone who walks into the lounge that I'm in the kitchen. I like cooking with no disturbances.....well unless I invite anyone. Now time to get to work."

"Why would you do something so trivial? It makes no sense."

She headed into the pantry and returned to the island, placing the ingredients onto it "as I stated earlier it's to warn the others. I started preparing dinner about two years ago because I strongly believe we here at the tower are a family and family should have home cooked meals."

Loki rolled his eyes and continued to read but still listened on

"So three months after I started cooking, Tony decided to be real jerk. I decided to make chocolate fondue and an assortment of treats in which you can dip into the chocolate; anyways Tony was drunk from the previous day, having thrown one of his extravagant parties. I turn my back for 10 minutes and when I returned Tony was face flat in the fondue, chocolate was splattered all over the kitchen walls, all the assortment s were gobbled down; it was a disaster."

Loki watched as she moved back and forth,

"Oh how wonderful it was to make him pay for wasting rich chocolate but that's a tale for another time"

Loki scoffed, "So do you have anything in particular you like to eat?" She asked.

Loki looked up from his book and watched as she mixed some contents in a bowl, while periodically blowing strands of hair from her face.

"None that you should concern yourself with,"

"Aww come on, I'm curious to know, so that way I can add your preferred dishes to the dinner menu."

Loki didn't like the feeling he was getting when she made that statement; she was showing an genuine interest in him and it felt weird. He decided not to respond to her and continued reading.

A comfortable silence fell between them and the only sound that emanated from the kitchen was the clanking of pots and pans. As some time passed, Loki would periodically glance at her from behind his book, making sure not to get caught.

"Here you go Loki" Omidah said while placing a small plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of him. Loki lowered his book and eyed the cookies with suspicion

"If you think they're poisoned, then think again. I like you, so i have no intentions of harming you in anyway."

Loki ignored what she said to try and subdue the feeling in his chest. He refused to take her words literally; no one cared about him and he had to keep reminding himself of that.

"How did you makes these so fast?"

Omidah smiled "we've been in here for well over an hour now. Dinner is almost done and I'm now preparing to clean up. Plus I tend to bake goodies first before doing the actual cooking."

Loki looked at the cookies and back at Omidah who already turned away to start cleaning up.

Cautiously he picked up one and bit into it. Loki suppressed a groan; he had never eaten a cookie that tasted so divine. The chocolate melted on his tongue, sending a tingling sensations to his taste buds. The texture was soft, fluffy-like but was still solid. It was one satisfying cookie.

Within a matter of minutes the entire plate was cleared and he let out a satisfying sigh. The sound of the timer was set off almost simultaneous and when he looked in Omidah's direction, she was removing dishes from the oven and quickly rushing to set the table.

He was surprised that she cooked so many dishes in such a short period of time. He wondered if they tasted as good as they looked and smelt.

"Hey Loki are you comfortable eating with the others around or would you like to go back to your floor?"

He scoffed "I refuse to dine with incompetent mortals."

Omidah puffed her cheeks like a little child and pouted.

"You're not fun Loki, I really wanted to see how well you work under pressure. Oh well, I'll prepare a plate for you in a few."

Before he could respond to her statement, Tony entered the kitchen with a glass of scotch.

"Hey river Nile, what's cooking good looking?"

"Tony Stark, what have I told you about coming into the kitchen when I'm cooking! Do you want a repeat of what happened the last time you were in here?"

Loki observed the two conversing and how sudden Tony became nervous; beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Just what did she do to him to cause such a reaction?

"Ah-am I'll just be in the lounge. Sorry Omidah." With that Tony quickly walked out.

Loki continued to observe the young woman as she finished setting the table. He was still trying to figure her out. Being able to analyse someone and tell the type of person they are was a specialty of his but with her it was somewhat difficult.

"Jarvis can you let everyone know that dinner is ready. Thank you."

"Absolutely miss."

Omidah continued to move around the kitchen, ensuring that everything was in order. Tony decided to stick his head through the kitchen door.

"Hey, did I hear something about dinner? Don't mind if I do."

Omidah sighed 'He is a sucker for punishment.' "Sure Tony come on in. Have a seat and wait for the others. I'm going to fix a plate for Loki."

Tony chuckled "let me guess, Reindeer Games thinks we're beneath him and chooses to dine alone."

Loki shot Tony glare and boy if looks could kill, Tony would have dropped dead by the one Loki was giving him now.

Completely ignoring him, Tony moved to the bar and poured himself a drink

"So what's on tonight's menu Omidah?" She smiled

"Egyptian cuisine. Remember I promised everyone I'd try something new every few months...."

Tony nodded "well I decided to cook dishes from my distant home land. I hope you guys like it. Please ask the others to send me their feedback."

Tony looked at her perplexed "wait a minute, aren't you joining us tonight?"

She shook her head as she continued her task "not tonight tin can. I wish to keep Loki company before I start my training."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that the mission would cause them to see less of her now that she had to watchman Loki but he wasn't expecting it so soon; he didn't like it.

Omidah laughed at Tony's antics "oh stop being dramatic, sharing is caring. You guys had me all to yourselves for these past few years, now allow me to delegate my time to someone else.

And before you say anything else, I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere, just that you'll see less of me from time to time. So behave and exercise some patience."

Tony walked over to her and ruffled her hair "You're right, just a bit paranoid."

Omidah quickly hugged him "best cousin ever. Thanks tin can."

Removing herself from Tony's embrace she returned to her task. After packing enough food and what she believed would full the Asgardian, packaged everything in a bag.

"All done. Come on Loki we'll eat dinner on your floor. See you later Tony."

Loki watched as she bounced happily out the room before quietly following behind her.

Tony on the other hand was puzzled and quickly pulled out his phone to call the others. There were a few things that needed to be discussed.