#but maybe that one could just be a series of paintings since there's no lyrics

[undertalethingems]

What was "the royal we" animatic about? and would you still consider doing it in the future? it sounded interesting 👀

well, it boils down to one thing: I Am Not Immune To Cool Murder Route Imagery

the murder route of undertale is not usually one I find particularly ripe for fanworks, partly because it's been, uh, pretty well covered for a long time. but that isn't to say there hasn't been some really excellent art and character analysis to come out of it, and of course, where would i be without the gaster blaster XD

so, like I said in the other ask where i talked about the animatic, the lines in the chorus are really great for a murder run--and particularly, a murder run from Sans' point of view. the "we" singing is Sans, playing with the idea of casting him as the royal fool, and follows him as he follows the murderous human's path. I can picture the whole narrative, starting just after Papyrus' death, and ending with... well, provided i get around to making it, you'll see. :>

and yeah, as long as a given project still needs to be worked on, it'll remain an option in any polls I post. So even though the animatic won't win this time, it's not out of the running. what's been good is that knowing at least a few people are interested in the concept at all, so I might even work on it outside of streams ^^

[metalhoops]

Corroded Coffin didn’t ‘do’ love songs. 

It wasn’t some unwritten rule or unspoken theory that they were too ‘cool’ for love songs. Hell, metal ballads were a whole subgenre. Even W.A.S.P. had a love song. 

It was just that in their three years as a band, they’d never written a single love song. If Corroded Coffin had a lyricist, it was Eddie. It wasn’t as though other members hadn’t tried their hand at writing. Gareth and Jeff had written a handful of songs between them, as well as helped Eddie polish a couple of verses. Grant had even written a chorus, but generally, the lyrics of a Corroded Coffin song were, first and foremost, Eddie’s brainchild. 

The closest they’d ever gotten to writing a love song was ‘Killer Konnection’, and that was all Jeff. Though it was more about lust than love. So you could imagine the boys' shock when Eddie showed up to band practice and played them a love song. 

It was unlike any of their other material. Since Eddie disappeared back in March after being framed for a series of murders, the songs he’d written had changed. That hadn’t surprised the boys. Being proverbially run out of town with pitchforks could really change a guy’s view of the world. He pulled out some killer prose about red skies filled with bats and dark wizards out for deathly revenge. But they’d never heard Eddie write anything like the song he played for them that morning. He hadn’t even named it. Though Gareth caught a glimpse in Eddie’s notebook and saw it was going by the tentative title of ‘S’. A mysterious name for a mysterious song. 

Sure, ‘S’ had all the hallmarks of a Corroded Coffin song. It had the killer beat spurred on by the anxiety-inducing pounding drumbeat and base, accompanied by thrashing guitars and raw vocals, but the lyrics? Downright Robert Smith or Morrissey vibes. Maybe ‘love song’ was too harsh. Really, it was a song about longing. Even the guitar chords appeared to ache under the weight of the song. 

The song left the three other members of Corroded Coffin asking one question. What the hell happened with Eddie? They’d known Eddie was gay since before they’d become a band. It wasn’t like the boys were the type for adhering to societal conventions anyway. 

It’d be another year before Gareth decided he didn’t particularly have any preference as to who he fell in love with, and Grant? He decided he’d rather play D&D and work on creating his own tabletop RPG than date anyone, anytime soon. Thank you very much. Jeff was the token straight friend, though he did like wearing eyeliner and painting his nails, so people thought what they would. 

They knew Eddie had dated guys — maybe ‘dated’ was too strong a word. They knew Eddie had hooked up with guys but none of them had inspired such a response. They made it their mission to work out who the hell ‘S’ was about, and maybe try to knock some sense into him. Eddie’s song sounded so damn heartbreaking. They were his best friends. They had to do something. 

It wasn’t until their next Hellfire session that all the pieces fell into place. Since Hawkins burst of Satanic Panic, D&D at the high school was no longer an option, so they’d been couch surfing across different members’ houses. How they ended up at the Harringtons’ the Corroded Coffin boys would never know. They knew Dustin and the younger kids were friends with the guy, but since he’d gotten off the hook for the town murders, Eddie and Steve had gotten close. 

The men had eyes. It was clear to see by the way Eddie’s focus honed in on Steve the second he entered the room, the guy was equal parts smitten and grief-stricken. It was also painfully apparent Steve was oblivious. Not Eddie falling for a straight guy, again. That always ended poorly. 

Yet there were moments, the boys questioned how one-sided the affair was. Gareth noticed the way Steve went straight to Eddie after the session was over. He asked about the game. He knew Harrington didn’t give two shits about D&D but he listened attentively, nodding his head and narrowing his eyes as though in deep concentration as Eddie spoke. Weird. 

He was also nice to the Corroded Coffin boys. Uncharacteristically nice.  Harrington got a little snarky with the kids. He’d make jabs about them making sure to use coasters or get their feet off the coffee table, but the Corroded Coffin boys? It was nothing but small talk and platitudes, as though he was trying particularly hard to be nice and non-offensive. Why would Harrington care what they thought? 

Eddie was always the last to arrive at rehearsals, which left plenty of time for the men to discuss. One pressing question: was Steve actually queer? Gareth said yes, Jeff said no and Grant wanted to be excluded from the conversation. The next, had anything actually happened between Eddie and Steve? After going through ‘S’s lyrics with a fine-toothed comb, they all agreed on ‘maybe’. Which was less than helpful. The boys weren’t usually the type for meddling but Eddie had been downright mopey all month.  They needed to do something. 

Gareth took one for the team at the next Hellfire session held at the Harringtons’. They’d been playing for three hours straight and were taking a well-deserved break. The kids were eating lunch while Eddie was smoking out back near Steve’s pool. Harrington was cleaning plates in the kitchen, so Gareth offered to help. He’d never been subtle, so he began the conversation with a sentence that seemed to hit Steve, much like a sledgehammer to the face. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Steve looked at Gareth wide-eyed, all deer in headlights, dull doe eyes. Gareth didn’t understand Eddie’s seemingly deep and aching love for the guy, but he was easy enough on the eyes. 

“No. Not currently,” Steve fumbled. 

“Oh. Okay cool.” Gareth paused for too long. He should’ve had a better plan than just ‘talk to Steve’. 

“Do you want one?” 

“A girlfriend?” Steve clarified, still looking both alarmed and dumbfounded. 

“A friend. Who doesn’t happen to have to be a girl,” Gareth circumnavigated. People said Harrington was dumb, but the guy appeared to catch onto what he was implying too quickly for an entirely straight ex-jock. 

“I-uh. I don’t know you that well,” Steve mumbled, his eyes suddenly glued to the dishes in the sink. 

Holy fucking shit, Steve Harrington thought he was asking him out. Nope. NO. Abort. Gareth needed to crawl into a deep, dark hole for the foreseeable future. He had no clue what he’d said to Steve. He just got himself the hell out of there. Steve spent the rest of the session being annoyingly nice to him, without mentioning the awkward moment in the kitchen. Gareth spent the time wanting to crawl inside himself and puke. Eddie was going to be so mad if he ever found out. 

With all his inner turmoil, it wasn’t until he left the Harringtons’ that he realised, Steve hadn’t turned Gareth down because he was a guy. He’d turned him down because they didn’t know each other. Holy shit. There was hope.  

At the next rehearsal, he managed to sway the other band members into believing that despite their (and likely Eddie’s) assumptions, Steve Harrington wasn’t as ‘totally straight, off limits’ as they’d assumed. It was Jeff’s turn to have a plan. He kept the other members in the dark, besides his exclamation of ‘I have a plan’. By the time the plan came to fruition, it’d sunk into the back of the band members’ collective subconscious. 

The band was playing at The Hideout and Jeff insisted they change their setlist to include ‘S’. There wasn’t much argument.  When it was time to play the song, Jeff quickly introduced it, dedicating it to ‘someone special in the crowd’. It was then that the other Corroded Coffin boys were suddenly on hyper-alert, searching the crowd for whatever poor girl Jeff had decided to fall for, when all three sets of unassuming eyes found the familiar face of Steve Harrington lingering in the back booth. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst their regulars. 

Eddie looked ready to puke or run but the boys quickly counted him in, and they were off to the races. Eddie couldn’t resist a catchy hook. Once the setlist was over, Eddie remained hiding backstage, pacing and looking ready to actually commit a string of murders while muttering ‘what the fuck did you do?’ whether to himself or the rest of the band, they didn’t know. 

Eventually, a familiar figure appeared at the backstage door. Steve knocked tentatively before peeking in. He gave an awkward half-hearted wave to the other members before making a beeline for Eddie. 

“I got your note,” Steve said, the note all band members were now sure Jeff had somehow engineered. 

“I liked the song, it was kind of sad though...” Steve muttered, gazing down at his shoes: dentist’s teeth fresh, white reeboks. Who wore reeboks to a metal show at a bar? 

Much to the dismay of the other Corroded Coffin members, Grant chose that moment to get involved. He ushered Gareth and Jeff out to the front of house, out of earshot. Leaving Steve and Eddie to have their conversation in private. 

The next week, Eddie arrived at rehearsals early, with Steve Harrington and a new, real Corroded Coffin love song in tow. 

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part VI

May Your Days Be Merry and Bright

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: I apologize that it’s taken me so long to update! My schedule has been a bit hectic lately, and it’s been harder to find time to write, but Bob and Peach are always very close to my heart. I hope you enjoy this new chapter in their story!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

Since this part takes place around the holidays, the title for this chapter comes from the lyrics of the famous holiday classic, White Christmas.

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, @luminousnotmatter​. Clara, thank you, thank you, thank you for your support of this story!

Warnings: Alternating POV, talk of the holidays, homesickness, allusions to casualties of war, references to rationing, and a ton of fluff.

November 26, 1942

Dear Peach,

Happy Thanksgiving! Truth be told, if it weren’t for the fact that we were getting a small reprieve from all our duties today, I wouldn’t have even remembered that it was Thanksgiving. Nobody around here is in much of a holiday spirit, which I’m sure you can understand.

It seems so hard to believe that just last year, at this very same time, we were all gathered around our kitchen tables with our families and loved ones, thanking God for all our good fortunes, and especially for the fact that we hadn’t gotten ourselves dragged into “that mess in Europe.” Well, looking around right now, it looks as though we may have spoken a bit too soon on that front.

I hope me telling you this doesn’t make you sad, Peach, but I’m feeling real lonesome for home today. The homesickness kicks in from time to time, especially when I get a letter from my family or from you, but on a day like today—the first Thanksgiving I’ve ever spent away from home, if you can believe it—it’s kicking real hard. I didn’t have the heart to tell my folks and my brothers that in the last letter I sent them. I knew it would just make my mama heartsick, and I hate the thought of doing that to her. Not that I enjoy the thought of making you feel heartsick—I hope you know that’s not what I mean. I just—well, like I’ve said before, Peach, I just feel like I can tell you these things, things that feel too hard to tell anyone else. And I thank you for that. It means more to me than I could ever really express.

Thanksgiving has always been such a happy time for my family, and I hope that’s true for your family, too. My mama knows how to whip up quite a feast. I imagine the same is true for your mama, from what you’ve told me about her. And the house is always filled with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, some we only get to see a couple times a year. I’ll be sorry to miss them this year, but I’ve been hoping that maybe by next Thanksgiving, this war will be behind us and we’ll all get to be together again. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Now here’s a story that’ll make you laugh—or, at least, that I hope will make you laugh. I know I painted Paul and Natasha as the troublemakers in my last letter, but in this incident I have no choice but to claim total responsibility for any and all wrongdoing. I told you that my mama knows how to whip up a feast for Thanksgiving, and she does. But of all the fancy fixings that she makes, my favorite has always been her homemade pumpkin pie. My mouth is watering right now, just thinking about it. Well, when I was a little kid, I never could stand to wait around until dessert to get my hands on that pie. My mama was always shooing me out of the kitchen, insisting she’d send me to bed with no Thanksgiving dinner at all if I so much as breathed in the direction of that pie before I’d had my proper supper. Now I don’t want you to think that I’m a boy who disrespects his mama. I’ve always done my best to mind everything she tells me. But, Peach, if you could only taste this pie, you’d understand my juvenile dilemma. One year—I was eight—my mama stepped out of the kitchen for a minute to help my aunt with my new baby cousin. I’m ashamed to say it, but I saw my chance and I took it. I thought if I could just get one tiny little taste of that pie, I’d be satisfied until dinner was over. Mama was smart—she  left the pie up on a high shelf where she thought I wouldn’t be able to reach it—but I thought I was smarter. I pulled a chair right on up, determined to get my sticky little fingers on that pumpkin pie. Just as I was about to, I heard my mama coming back into the kitchen and I panicked. Turns out my balance on that chair wasn’t as good as I thought it was because the next thing I know, I’m crashing down to the floor and bringing that pie with me. Let me tell you, that pie makes a very delicious dessert, but not a very fun hat. My mama was so furious with me, she wouldn’t even let me change or get cleaned up—she made me wear that pumpkin pie all through dinner and then told me since I was wearing my dessert, I didn’t need any of the apple pie she’d made. Oh, it was a sad Thanksgiving indeed.

I haven’t thought about that story in a while, but it made me laugh now to tell it to you. As sad as I am about not being home for Thanksgiving today, at least I have memories like that to bring a smile to my face. Paul’s missing home, too, but he and I have been swapping stories all day to keep our minds off it. Tommy Boy and Benny have been sharing, too. At least we have each other, and I’m grateful for that. I guess there are still things to give thanks for, even when you’re in the middle of a war zone, huh?

Speaking of giving thanks, I know I’ve said it already, but I hope you know that you’re one of the people I’m most thankful for this year. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me when I received your last letter and read that you and Dottie had gone to light candles for Timmy and the other fellas we’d lost. To know that there was someone out there—someone who didn’t even know them—honoring their sacrifice and thinking of them—well, there just really aren’t words for that. Sadly, we’ve lost many more in the weeks since I last wrote to you. As always, your kind thoughts and prayers for us are always so deeply appreciated.

First pen pal, huh? Well that is a mighty big honor, and one I won’t take lightly at that. I’m not sure how wonderful a writer I am—I think I could accuse you of being the one looking through rose-colored glasses now—but I am glad to know that my letters make it feel like I’m right there with you, because that’s exactly what your letters do for me. I always feel so close to you when I read the sweet words you’ve penned. I think you’re the one who’s the terrific writer. I bet you were the star pupil when you were in school, weren’t you, Peach?

Though I hope no one in your household comes down with the flu again anytime soon, you really do have to let me know if any of you try the whiskey trick—I have to know if it’s only my family, or if it works for other people, too.

Never had a pen pal AND never been flying? Miss Peach, we simply have to correct that! Since you’ve already mentioned that I’m your very first pen pal, I would be doubly honored to also be the pilot who gets to take you for your first flight. Paris and Rome both sound like perfect destinations—wherever you want to go, I’ll take you. As for me, I think I’d be happy traveling anywhere, so long as it was with you.

Now as for that song, it looks like I’ll be counting down the days until I can hear that pretty voice singing “Someone to Watch Over Me.” Mr. Gershwin certainly did know what he was doing, and I wish he was still alive today so that I could shake his hand properly for the favor he did me in writing such a perfect song for our first dance. I very much hope that it won’t be our last, if you don’t mind me saying so.

Oh, don’t worry. The last thing any of us need around here is to give Tommy Boy and Benny bigger heads than they already have, so your secret is safe with me. Some of the rest of our squadron have joked that they don’t know how the two of them get around the carrier with the fat heads they’re both carrying on their shoulders. But it’s all in good fun. The truth is that you’d be hard pressed to find better fellas or better friends. I’m glad to know their ridiculous antics bring a smile to your face.

I’m also glad to hear how close you are with your sister. It sounds like Dottie is quite protective. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the fool who crossed her where her baby sister is concerned. Or where anyone she loves is concerned, for that matter. That’s a wonderful quality to have. She sounds like a really wonderful woman, and I’d be honored to get to meet her one day. Though, to be honest, I’d probably be a little afraid, too.

It’s funny that you say that Paul reminds you of Paddy. When we were still stationed in Charleston, the two of them used to have long conversations about their families and show off all the photographs they carried with them. With most of the other fellas being single, or at least without kids, they formed a nice bond. Then again, they always did debate whose wife was the most beautiful woman in the world—Paul being firmly on Team Natasha, while Paddy was on Team Dottie, of course. Still, they were always able to amicably agree to disagree.

By the way, Paul gratefully accepts any and all assistance you can provide in helping him pick out the perfect “buttering up Natasha” gift.

I admit that I’m at a loss when it comes to how to respond to your very kind and generous words about my character, Peach. A good man is all I’ve ever really wanted to be, and it means so much to hear that you think I am one. I’m sorry to hear that you’ve encountered men who made you feel like there weren’t very many kind and good-hearted ones left. Whoever they are, they’re absolute fools. I just hope you know that a good man is what I’ll always strive to be. It’s who my parents raised me to be. It’s who I want to be.

I want to be the kind of man that someone like you can be proud of.

I hope more than anything that we all come home safely and soon, just like you said. But until then, we’ll be fighting for you.

Until next time, Peach.

Truly Yours,

Bobby

P.S. I’m glad to hear Frankie had such a wonderful first Halloween, despite the parade being canceled. I’m sure he put all the other pumpkins to shame. Natasha sent word that Clara and Paul, Jr. dressed up as Dorothy and the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz (Natasha’s a big fan of that movie). And my brothers dressed up as a vampire and a werewolf—very scary indeed.

P.P.S. I hope that Frankie has a really special first Thanksgiving!

P.P.P.S In case I’m not able to do so beforehand, I want to wish you and your family a very beautiful Christmas. I hope you find everything you’re wishing for under the tree this year.

December 18, 1942

Dear Bobby,

Before I get to speaking to any of the wonderful parts of your last letter, I feel that I should probably first address the elephant in the room—the photograph enclosed with this letter.

I want you to know that Dottie is wholly responsible for all of this.

I probably should have found it a bit suspicious when my sister insisted upon doing my hair and make-up before I went with her to the portrait studio where we were getting pictures taken of Frankie for his first birthday. But that’s Dottie for you—she loves doing those kinds of things, so I didn’t think as much of it as I should have. That is, at least, until we got to the portrait studio and she forced me to sit down and have MY pictures taken.

“I thought we were here for Frankie,” I tried to tell her. Oh, I was so mortified.

“We are!” she told me, with that classic Dottie smile on her face. “But there’s time for you to take some pictures, too!”

Dottie absolutely would not let me know peace until I had agreed to choose my favorite picture and include it in my letter to you.

I’m so sorry, Bobby. I’ve never been so embarrassed. You must think me so forward, including a photograph you didn’t ask for, as though I’m some sort of movie star or something. I promise I won’t be offended if you leave it in the envelope, or even chuck it overboard off the carrier. I’m blushing even as I write this, and I can only imagine what you must be thinking right now. Can we just pretend it never happened and there was no photograph included in this letter?

Okay, enough about silly me. Now it’s time to talk about you.

I’m so sorry that you were feeling so homesick on Thanksgiving, Bobby. It hurt my heart to think of all of you over there, so far away from home and all the people you love at a time when you’re supposed to feel closest to them. I understand you not wanting to make your family sad by telling them that, but I’m touched that you feel you can share your heart with me. I know without a doubt that your family was thinking of you, and saving a seat at the table for your safe return. I’m sure your mama even had a special piece of pumpkin pie set aside, just for you.

Oh, Bobby, that story about the pumpkin pie had me rolling with laughter. I think I even shed a few tears, I was laughing so hard. I just kept picturing poor little Bobby Floyd with homemade pumpkin pie smashed all over his head, having to sit through Thanksgiving dinner and endure such indignity. Did you at least learn your lesson and never try to sneak an early bite of that pie again? It must be very delicious for you to risk all that. You definitely have me wanting to try a piece!

Our Thanksgiving here in Charleston was quiet, but lovely. Normally I get to see my grandparents and aunts, uncles, and cousins, just like you, but this year we kept the holiday small. My parents drove up from Georgia to be with us, especially since it was Frankie’s first Thanksgiving. I’d missed them so much, even more than I realized, so it was wonderful getting to spend time with them again. They actually just left two days ago. They decided to stay in Charleston for Frankie’s first birthday, which was on December 14th. We’ll be packing up and getting ready to head down to Georgia in a couple days so that we can be with them for Christmas.

My family has a little tradition of going around the table before we eat Thanksgiving dinner so that everyone can share something they’re grateful for and something they’d like to pray for. When it was my turn, I said that I was grateful for you, Bobby, and for your sweet friendship and for all the letters we exchange. I also said I was thankful for all the men who are fighting overseas to protect us and defend our freedom, and the freedom of all those in Europe who are suffering right now. For my intention, I shared that I wanted to pray for your continued safety and that you would all come home very soon.

All of us, not just me, are so grateful for what you and the rest of our boys are doing over there, Bobby. I know you’ve already had to sacrifice so much, and that surely more sacrifices will have to be made, but please know that they are not in vain. Not ever. What you’re doing matters, and it’s making a difference in our world.

I want to offer my deepest condolences for all the lives that have been lost since I last heard from you. My thoughts and my prayers feel so wholly inadequate in the face of such horror and pain, but I’m glad to know that they’re able to give you a small measure of comfort. You’ll have them always.

Now I will admit that while I still think you’re looking at many things through rose-colored glasses, I actually was a very good student when I was in school. I don’t know if I can really call myself a star pupil, but I did well. I always enjoyed reading stories and learning about history the most. I confess I’m rather hopeless when it comes to my arithmetic. How about you? Were you a star pupil, Bobby? Considering you made it all the way to Annapolis, I’m guessing you must have been!

You have my word that should the need ever arise, I will most certainly try the whiskey trick and let you know how we all fare.

Bobby, I think you’ve managed to convince me to give flying a try, but only if you promise to be my pilot. You’re the only one I’ll trust to take me safely off the ground—no offense to the rest of your squadron, of course. I’m sure they’re all wonderful pilots. Even if we don’t make it to Paris or Rome, I know that I’d be happy, just getting to fly with you.

I think Mr. Gershwin would be quite pleased indeed to hear how much you appreciate his music. I’m not sure how pleased he would be to hear me singing it, but I promise that I’m practicing. And I promise that when you return home, we’ll share another dance. At least, if that’s something you still want when all this is over.

I must admit, I laughed out loud when I read the part of your letter about Tommy Boy’s and Benny’s big heads. They really are a couple of characters, aren’t they? I love how you all seem so different from one another, and yet you’re all such good friends. Those kinds of bonds are special.

When it comes to Dottie, you’re right that she is a wonderful woman and that she’d be the last person on earth you’d want to cross when it comes to the people she loves. But you’re wrong to feel you’d have to be afraid to meet her, Bobby. She loves you already, from all the things I’ve told her about you and from the pieces of your letters that I’ve shared. As much as you want to meet her, I promise that she wants to meet you, too. You’ll have to come over for a glass of lemonade the next time you’re in Charleston. I know my sister can be a force of nature, but I’ll be there so you’ll have nothing to worry about.

Paddy is such a braggart when it comes to Dottie and Frankie, so I’m not surprised in the slightest that he took every opportunity he could to show them off to Paul. I’ll have you know that Dottie was quite pleased to hear that he took her part in the great debate of whose wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. She even made the homemade hot cocoa Paddy loves so much—we got extra sugar rations this week—as a special treat for him.

Speaking of rations, did you hear that they just added coffee to the list last month? There have been many grumpy people in Charleston as of late, I’ll tell you that. The worst of them is probably Paddy. He’s always grumbling now on his way to work. But if a little less coffee and sugar means you get to come home sooner, then we’ll gladly give it all up for good.

Bobby, you ARE the kind of man that I’m proud of. I’m so proud of you. Truly, I am. Never, ever forget that. It’s men like you who give me hope for our future.

Merry Christmas, Bobby. I know it’s going to be a hard one, having to be away from your family and your home, but I hope that you’re still able to find a moment of peace, even in the midst of all this madness.

I’m not quite sure that it’s possible for me to have everything that I’m wishing for underneath the tree this year, not with this war still on and you still so far away. But I’ll have the comfort of knowing that brave men like you are fighting for me, and that’s more than enough for this year. Maybe next Christmas, things will be different. Oh, I hope so.

Until then, Bobby. 

I miss you. Please stay safe.

Most Affectionately Yours,

Peach

[little-peril-stories]

The Queen of Lies: The Drop, Part II

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: lady whump, guy whump, being threatened, being chased, injury, blood, self-blame/victim-blaming

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 5500 || Approx reading time: 22 mins

The Drop, Part II

Teaser: He wasn’t alone, at least not yet. Because against all odds, Bree hadn’t bailed on him, nor had she turned him in, and perhaps most surprising of all, her crazy husband hadn’t found her and taken her away.

Silence had never been his favourite thing. Quiet, sure, peace and calm and all that—good for when his mind filled up with too many thoughts that needed somewhere to explode out of in a mess but had nowhere to go, and the soft strum of midnight in the city or the song of wind and bird calls in the trees helped to soothe the storm.

Silence, though.

Silence filled up empty spaces in a bad way. And when his mind was reeling, silence crowded up against those thoughts—shoved them around and twisted them into something worse. Like a crack in the ice on a frozen pond, silence shattered beneath your feet and pulled you into darkness, screeching into your bones and spearing right through your heart and soul until all you could think of was how heavy the world actually was, no matter how damn hard you were trying to forget.

The townhouse was silent.

He’d known it would be, and yet the confirmation crunched and snapped inside him, anyway.

Must have been at least a week since they fucked off—no, longer. Dust coated the table in a way Spider would’ve never allowed; there were no boots by the door; there wasn’t a hint of heat in the fireplace. Just ice-cold ashes and a few charred chunks of wood.

Fox gripped tightly to the edge of the table, watching his hands paint streaks in the layer of dust. He’d known it would be cold and empty and silent.

It still hurt.

He stood, drowning, long enough that he forgot entirely how long he’d been standing there at all.

Dropping the message had been easy. Perfect. Smooth. Quick. And he should have gone back to the inn. That would have been the smart thing to do.

Temptation had won out, and here he was. Temptation had led him straight to heartache. Temptation had proved to him that, for the first time ever, really, he was alone.

Except that wasn’t truly true, was it?

He released his grip on the table and stared down at his dusty fingertips and smudged palms. Ignored the way his shoulder complained at how he’d stood with his muscles so tightly wound, rigidly enough to hurt, reminding him that it wasn’t fully healed yet. His hands twitched in memory of being held by smaller, daintier ones—hands that had not shied away from his when, inarguably, they should have stayed far, far away.

He wasn’t alone, at least not yet. Because against all odds, Bree hadn’t bailed on him, nor had she turned him in, and perhaps most surprising of all, her crazy husband hadn’t found her and taken her away.

His stomach turned. She’d been so eager to help him, to drop a message for the others, all for his sake. But she was alone out there. They’d argued about it—whether to stay together or split up. Logic had won out.

Logic was a huge bitch. He was the one who’d pushed for splitting up, and that goddamn logic felt like nothing more than a savage scam now.

Heaving a sigh, Fox looked around the empty room one last time. Nothing had changed. Still cold. Still silent.

Perhaps it was time for goodbye, then. If Wolf and Spider and Hare were really gone.

In the dust on the table, he began to scrawl. Just in case. Because maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of hope.

I’m alive.

Underneath, a series of letters.

W.

J.

C.

G.

He paused before the last one, but some compulsion drew his fingers through the dust again.

B.

***

The evening had turned unpleasantly cold—the kind of autumn night that smelled a bit like snow but didn’t have the decency to even spill any. Fox kicked at stones on the road as he walked, unable to shake a feeling of unease. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to the townhouse. It was probably a terrible move. And leaving that message? The damn initials? Stupid. Spider would fucking kill him if she saw it.

Or she’d be glad to find out he was alive.

He shook a few hairs out of his eyes, pissed off at how they tickled uncomfortably against his eyelashes. Damn hat, shoving his hair forward so it fell in the most annoying place.

God, what had he been thinking, going back there?

What if someone had seen him? What if constables were tearing the damn place apart right now?

He came to a stop and forced himself to take a breath. The thoughts were getting out of control.

“Sounds like we got a problem here, don’t it?”

Fox frowned at the rough voice sneering somewhere around a corner. It sounded vaguely familiar. Unpleasantly familiar.

It sounded like a guy he was pretty sure he didn’t like.

“You gotta know whose turf this is,” the voice drawled. Fox’s arms prickled beneath his coat. “And I never seen no pansy little shitheads like you around here before. ’Specially not a mouthy little bastard in a fancy-ass coat like that. So, where the hell’d you come from, fella?”

Oh, he did fucking know that voice. It belonged to a guy he’d once punched in the face (and who’d punched him back, but that was beside the point). A guy who needed another knock on the head, apparently, because what was that bullshit he was spewing aboutwhose turf this was?

It certainly wasn’t his.

This was IA territory, and no matter what his brother said about not starting shit with the other crews working the suckers in town who left their pockets unguarded, Fox was not about to let this asshole go around claiming that some other gang had somehow overtaken it.

As a high-pitched voice protested whatever that fucker was doing, Fox started forward, then paused.

His shoulder. It still ached. It probably wouldn’t take much to fuck it up again.

“Empty them nice pockets of yours, kid, and maybe we’ll let you pass through with a warning. Maybe.”

Keep walking. That was all he had to do.

“What are you doing?” their victim squeaked. “Just leave me—”

One of the nasty voices burst into a laugh, while the other said, “Fuck, what’s wrong with this guy?”

A cry that was more of a shriek.

And then—

“What the fuck?”

The cry rang in his ears, too loud and too familiar.

“Shit…” Even before the guy went on, Fox knew what he was about to say. “Shit. It’s a girl.”

He was around the corner before he’d even quite realized that he had started to move.

“Hey.”

There she was, flat against the wall where those two motherfuckers from—what were they called? Something stupid—something with an S. Stealthy…sneaky…sorry. Sorry Sixes. That’s who they ran for.

Two bastards from the Sorry Sixes had cornered her.

Those big brown eyes went straight to him, and he almost died, because she looked so scared.

But.

She also looked royally pissed.

It wasn’t like when she’d yelled at him to smarten up and stop being a vulgar, disrespectful prick while he was still in jail, or her frantic, furious tirade to Mrs. Bristow when she convinced her to let them go. It wasn’t like her trembly, worried sort of frustration from when they’d fought about splitting up to cover more ground. It wasn’t like the endless, exhausted annoyance that crossed her face every time she had to destroy another goddamn poster.

This was something new, like something had split inside her, like she had decided she was fucking sick of being pushed around.

“This little cross-dressing freak your woman?” asked the one with his knife at Bree’s throat. Blond haired, blue eyed, mean-looking as a feral dog. “Been acting all shady-like, sneaking around on Sorry Six streets. You oughta keep her a bit more under control.”

“Yeah, about that,” Fox said through gritted teeth, unable to identify which part of that little speech infuriated him the most.

“About what?” the other one asked, shaking greasy red curls away from his narrowed eyes. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“This ain’t your territory,” Fox said tightly, stepping a little closer. Bree’s eyes widened.

In a tiny, subtle movement, her gaze flicking to his bad shoulder, she shook her head. As if, somehow, after only knowing him for a few weeks, she knew exactly what he was about to get himself into. And what a terrible idea it was.

The Sixes snorted. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Well, guess I gotta ask again,” the short one said. “Who the fuck are you?”

As Fox stepped into the gas light, the blond guy’s head tilted to the side. “Wait a minute. I know this ugly face.” He shoved Bree back against the wall—whether for dramatic effect or because she’d been trying to slip away, it was hard to tell. But she winced, and at his side, Fox’s hands clenched.

“Think I kicked your ass one time,” he said. “Doesn’t seem like it did much good. Need another go?”

“Fox,” Bree hissed.

“Oh, that’s it. Fox,” the big one mimicked. “IA, ain’t you? How’d you get outta jail? Heard you got busted like an idiot.” He grinned. “Your mug’s been all over this city. You better watch your step, or we gonna be reading a big, splashy headline ’bout you in a day or so.”

With a gruesome, taunting grimace, the ginger mimed getting hanged, tilting his head as if his neck had been snapped.

“Didn’t know you could read,” Fox said, as his blood ran hot. Bree closed her eyes.

The redhead guffawed. “Ha, ha. Hilarious, Dog Boy.”

“Dog Boy. Good one. You come up with that yourself?” He stepped a little closer; neither of them moved. “Get your fucking hands off her.”

“And if I don’t? What you gonna do about it? Your wimpy freak of a leader gonna come and wag his finger at me?” The fucker with the knife laughed. “Last I heard, IA’s dead. And…” His voice trailed off for a moment as he dragged that stare back over Bree’s face. “And they’re looking for both of you.”

Fox heard the words—heard the taunt, the refusal to leave Bree alone, and the pointed jab at his brother. They burst at him like sparks, dropping in painful pinpricks he could not ignore.

He was about to leap, bum shoulder be damned, when Bree kicked the guy holding her right in the goddamn jewels.

“Fucking shit!” Fox yelped as she tore away from the wall, gasping. “You gone crazy?”

“Maybe,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Don’t fight. Let’s g—”

Rich of her, to tell him not to fight when she was the one who had just slammed her leg right into her attacker’s nuts.

And pretty optimistic, seeing as the short one was barrelling straight toward the both of them.

“Bree, get out of here.” Fox didn’t know if she would listen—had a bad feeling, after the assault she’d just launched on the asshole with the knife, that she would not—but the command tore out of him anyway, because neither of these fuckers was going to touch her again, not if he had anything to do with it. How had she even run into them, anyway? Her drop point was blocks away.

A story he could get out of her later, because right now there was an ass that needed kicking.

“You’re going to get h—” She squealed into silence as the blond guy recovered from his howls of pain, repositioned his knife, and shot forward.

“Ah, fuck!” The short one’s fist slammed into Fox’s shoulder just as Bree somehow did what he could not—sidestep her attacker. She still cried out, her voice mingling with his cursing as pain tore through his shoulder. “Bree, for fuck’s sake, just run! I can handle—”

Granted, he would handle it better if he weren’t so busy yelling at her to get lost. The ginger caught him with a knock on his jaw. No big deal. Nothing he couldn’t get back up from.

And he had to get back up from it, because the tall motherfucker with the knife was moving again.

“This ain’t IA territory no more,” the little one hissed. “Not since you landed your sorry ass in jail and the rest of your crew fucked off.”

Fox forgot that his shoulder and his jaw hurt, and he forgot he was being stupid. He sprang forward and knocked the goddamn asshole and his hideous, taunting mouth to the ground.

He shouldn’t have looked away from Bree, though.

The big guy caught hold of her hair, and she shrieked when he yanked her toward him and snarled, “Didn’t know IA had their hands on such cute little gals. ’Specially one who also got her face plastered on every damn wall in this town.”

She gasped and tilted her head back as he kept pulling on her hair. “What are you doing? Let me go, you disgusting, wicked, horrid—”

God, it would almost be sweet, watching her trying to throw out insults like that, if it weren’t so fucking horrifying.

The knife. Back at her throat.

No no no no no no no—

“Pretty little reward for the constable’s pretty little wife,” the blond one said, and as Fox struggled to figure out exactly how he was going to get both of them out of this mess, the other Six swept his feet from under him.

“And a reward for this asshole, too.” Black spots danced before Fox’s eyes as his bad arm was pressed into his back, followed by the other. “You just nothing but talk, eh? Dog Boy’s all bark and no bite.”

Fuck. Fuck.

In the distance, a whistle blasted through the air. Deep-throated shouts. Clicking, scraping footsteps.

“Would you look at that,” said the tall one smugly. “Coppers are nearby. Won’t they be surprised to see what we found?”

“You fucking idiots,” Fox snarled. “They could just arrest you both, too.”

With a growl, the red-haired one twisted his bad arm a little tighter. Fox gasped.

“C’mon, Mrs. Constable,” the big guy said, taking the knife from Bree’s neck for just long enough to pull her arms behind her, too, and shove her to her knees. “Ain’t you lucky? Gonna see your loony of a husband again.” He grinned at his friend. “And we’re gonna get an extra payday, huh?”

His friend cackled, and Fox found Bree’s gaze as they began to call into the night for the police to come running.

The freezing cobblestone underneath him should have been what chilled him to the bone. But what he saw in Bree’s eyes stabbed right into him like ice.

“I’m not going back,” she whispered. So quiet, he was almost only reading her lips. “I’m not. I’m not. I’m—”

“What’re you saying, missus?” The blond peered into her face. “I don’t like your husband much, neither, but I’ll sure take his money.”

“I said…” Bree glared up at him. “I said I’m not going back.”

Wetness gleamed beneath her eyes now, eerie and flashing in the yellow light.

“Let g-go of m-my hands,” she said suddenly. Whimpering. Trembling. “I’ll…I’ll give you whatever I have. That’s what y-you want, right?”

The big guy twirled his knife in his free hand, laughing. “Gonna get a lot more for taking you in, Mrs. Constable. But thanks anyway.”

“Please,” she said, sobbing. “You’re hurting me.”

Her downcast eyes flicked up momentarily and met Fox’s.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she whimpered, the instant of silent communication gone, and she craned her neck to look up at the shithead holding onto her. “Please. I’ve got m-money—”

What? Whatever she had in her pockets, it wasn’t much.

Fucking fuck, she was running a scam.

The tall Six growled but let go, pulling her up again to brandish the knife in front of her face.

Mewling quietly to herself, Bree picked at her pockets with shaking hands, and shot Fox a look.

“On three,” she mouthed, as if he were somehow wise to whatever plan she had concocted. Down by her pocket, her fingers counted: one—two—three—

Whatever clumsy but earnest assault she launched into with a shriek, Fox missed, because he gritted his teeth and threw his body upwards, which destroyed his aching muscles and fucked-up shoulder exactly as much as he’d expected it to, but he didn’t really have much choice or much time to come up with something better, and honestly, it worked just fine, with the ginger caught off guard. Fox forced him to roll, and with his arm pretty much out of commission, landed the most forceful kick he could muster right in his potato-shaped nose.

“Come on!” He latched onto Bree’s hand the moment he was on his feet. She hadn’t done much to incapacitate the big guy, but it looked like she had managed to kick him in the shins or something, which was going to have to be good enough to give them time to run. Because as much as he wanted to pummel both of these jerks into the ground, his arm said absolutely not, and if the constables really were on their way, they needed to get gone.

“What the fuck happened back there?” he gasped when they’d made it far enough from the frustrated yowling of the Sixes and the cops that only ordinary evening-in-the-city sounds swelled around them. “How’d you even run into those pricks?”

“I got lost,” she said. “It’s a long—”

“You could’ve been hurt!”

As if she somehow hadn’t expected him to be mad, she blanched. The flicker of hurt, though, was quickly replaced by her own anger. “Me?” she retorted. “You jumped right in, knowing your shoulder is still healing! What were you thinking?”

“You kicked that guy in the nuts! What if he’d been just a little nastier, huh? You know what he could’ve done to you?”

His breath was fighting against him—struggling to get in, screeching and scratching on the way out. Fuck, he’d been in fights, and yeah, he’d been clobbered before, not that he much liked admitting it, but this feeling in his chest was new, clawing at him from the inside, tight and only growing.

“Bree, you could have died!”

What had he been thinking, for god’s sake, letting her drop a message? Letting her get involved? How stupid was he? Everyone else knew it. They’d told him time and time again. Idiot. Reckless. Foolhardy. Impulsive. Thoughtless. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

“Fox, you’re hurting me,” Bree whispered, and he looked down toward the hand squeezing hers.

Shit.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He let go, staring at the fingers that had been about to crush hers. Stupid and ill-fucking-tempered, after all that bullshit of Bree, I’m not him and trying to be better than the soul-sucking demon she’d married and here he was, yelling at her and scaring the shit out of her and hurting her, damn it all. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

The words died.

His fingers were slick with blood.

And he was pretty goddamn sure it wasn’t his.

“Bree…”

Her eyes went from his face to his bloody hand, and she gasped softly. “Oh. What did you—”

“It’s not mine,” he said, reaching for the hand he’d been clasping, and the sight of it nearly had him hurling his guts into the street, not because he had a problem with blood, for fuck’s sake, but because of whose blood it was. And how it dripped from her fingers, flowing freely. And fast.

“Oh, my—” Her face went a little green as she realized she was the one leaving a blood trail. “I don’t even know when—”

“Shit,” he hissed, watching dark red splatter onto the stone beneath them. “That looks bad.”

“I’m…I’m sure it’s…” For a moment, he could just see it: her eyelids fluttering closed, her limp body falling to the stone, him having to carry her in his arms while hoping she wouldn’t bleed out then and there…

And then she fumbled for a handkerchief, pressing it against the jagged slice that bastard had left on her forearm, right up to her wrist.

“It’s going to be fine,” she said firmly, even though she was pale.

He watched the starched cotton blossom with wet, seeping darkness, then pulled off his scarf. “Use this.” His hands shook as he pressed the wool to her arm, wrapping it with clumsy fingers.

How long till they got to the inn? Too long. Maybe the scarf would help staunch the blood. But it needed a real bandage. And she probably needed to not be running through the streets in a panic.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

She didn’t move her hands from where they held the makeshift bandage to her arm. But her gaze tilted upwards. “You don’t scare me.”

He swallowed.

“Tell me if you start to feel real bad, okay?” He itched to take her hand in his, so strongly it was almost making him twitch. But she needed to keep pressure on that goddamn cut. “We gotta keep moving. But we’re almost there.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, looking around nervously, a shiver wracking her body. “I don’t know where we are.” 

“We’re not going back to the inn. Not with your arm looking like that.” Her eyes widened, but after a moment, she seemed to realize that he was, for once in his life, following a sensible impulse and not a harebrained one.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I trust you.”

Fox was struck by how fiercely he wanted to just scoop her into his arms and carry her all the way—how much she looked like she needed it. But she stayed on her own two feet, and even though she winced with each jarring step, as the night fell colder and deeper around them, she did not complain. He had to force himself to stay far, far away from the question of why she handled her pain so stoically.

“Just a minute,” he said when they got there, as he pried a loose board from the steps and fished around in the dark, trying to find the key. “Fuck! Where is it?” He’d just dropped it back there an hour ago at most. Where the hell could it have gone?

He heard her soft intake of breath, startled and nervous, and he ordered himself to calm the fuck down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, finally grasping the key and shoving the board back into place. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find…”

“It’s all right.” Was he imagining it, or was her voice growing faint?

Getting the goddamn key into the lock was even more of an ordeal. He was on the verge of just breaking down the door and facing the consequences later when the lock clicked and the door swung open.

“Got bandages somewhere,” he said, helping her through the entryway—he knew every uneven floorboard, every sharp corner, but she didn’t. “I just—I mean—I—fuck—” Where was he supposed to start? “Water. Right? Wash it. Needs to be…”

“Fox…”

“It’s usually me with the stupid injuries,” he said as he guided her toward the kitchen, “the dumb, idiot, clumsy, dumb fuck who’s hurt, and everyone else is running around finding me bandages, not the other way around, so I don’t really—”

“Just—”

“But I think—I gotta boil water, right? So it’s clean? Or whatever? Does that sound right?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The word danced around his head, taunting him, unwilling to let him forget for even an instant how foolish it had been to let Bree get anywhere close to IA life.

So what had he done?

Brought her to its headquarters.

Its empty, abandoned headquarters—but IA’s former stronghold, nonetheless.

He tore through the cupboards. God, the others were so damn organized, far more than he was, so you’d think he be able to find a single fucking bandage somewhere.

“Got it,” he said, leaving the cupboard door wide open and turning back toward Bree

“Fox!”

The scarf hit the floor more heavily than it should have.

“You’re panicking,” she said. Her handkerchief stuck to her skin; even in the dim light, he could see how wrong it was. The wrong colour, pasted and slick against her arm.

“No, I’m not.” Fuck, her fingers were cold. They found his as he pressed the new bandage to her cut.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m okay.” Weak light, moon and lamp glows mingled, drifted in, just enough to see that her cheeks were wet and her lip was trembling. “I’m okay.”

“Fuck that,” he said, forgetting who he was talking to for a moment. Until she flinched. “You’re crying.”

“Y-yes,” she said. “I think—I think it’s—it’s catching up with me now.” She drew a shuddering breath. “I was scared. I was scared. I was so scared.” She took a step closer. “When I saw you, when you came around the corner, I felt—I was—I was so—I felt safer, but then—when I thought they might hurt you, and then when they were going to turn us in, and the thought of you—” She gasped, and then she pressed against him, her head to his chest. “Of Baden hurting you again—”

That made him sputter. “Of him hurting me again?” She was shaking. From cold? Leftover terror? Blood loss? Wracking sobs? “You serious?”

“He almost killed you.”

“God, Bree, what d’you think he’d do to you?” His voice cracked. “For being the one to help me? You think I could—you think I could handle that? Him getting his hands on you? So he could…he could…”

Before he even quite realized what he was doing, he had wrapped his arms around her, embracing that fragile form as if his body could shield her from the horrors of her past.

“Those constables,” Bree whispered, leaning into him. “They were after me.”

“After you?”

“I ran into my friends,” she said. “They recognized me. Taking down the posters. I—Alice, I think she would have looked the other way, but—but Marguerite, she… She looked… She thought I had gone…” A choking gasp. “She yelled for the police, so I ran. That’s why I was lost. And how I ended up there.”

“It’s okay,” he said, holding tighter. “They didn’t catch you.”

“But if they’d caught you, it would have been all my fault.”

He pulled away then. “No. It wouldn’t have.”

“And that boy hurt your arm,” she said shakily. “Because I—I made them angry—I wasn’t trying to—”

“Not your fault either,” he said. “They’re both shitheads. Plain and simple.”

She laughed, weepy but genuine, and it was beautiful. It brought him back from that fuzzy, floating realm of rage that seemed to exist outside of time and space, that turned the world white and red and black and made his thoughts go hazy and made him just want to scream and lash out and make the pain and the people causing it go away. That laugh, even thick and choked with tears, grounded him. Reminded him of why he’d been so pissed off in the first place. Who he’d been so desperate to protect.

He pressed one hand to her cheek. She didn’t startle, didn’t flinch. When he slid it down to the tip of her chin, and with the gentlest, barest force he could muster, tilted it up so he could look into her eyes, she didn’t pull away.

“None of it was your fault,” he said. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry for making you think…” His mouth had gone dry. “I was scared, too.”

Scared of what, exactly?

Bree brushed away the tears that still glittered on her cheeks. “I’m worried I’m getting blood on your coat.”

Blood. “Shit!” He was supposed to be boiling water. Apologizing and explaining and cuddling were all great, but they weren’t going to do much to help her sliced-open arm. “Let me—god, I’m sorry, I’m really terrible at this whole thing—”

He bolted for the door. When you lived in an old-ass townhouse, you got the pleasure of using the old-ass well down the road instead of the fancy-ass running water the rich folk got. And if no one had been in the house for weeks, there sure as hell wasn’t any water inside. “Sit down, okay? I’m coming back. I’ll—I’m just going for water—I’ll be right there!”

He fled before she could comment on what a piss-poor medic he made, or on the fact that he still had to get a goddamn fire going before he could even think about boiling water.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. At least the inn would have had hot, clean water ready to use.

But it was farther away.

But it was safer.

But she’d have kept bleeding into the street.

Water in tow, he skidded back inside and went straight for the oven, flinging open the cast-iron door and throwing in the first flammable things he could find. He really had to concentrate, to focus his energy on lighting the kindling and making sure the logs took to flame, because his mind was racing again, too fast and too loud. If Bree said anything, he didn’t hear.

When he finally turned around, water heating and candles lit so they could actually see, her head lay on her good arm—her body slumped over the table.

“Shit! You okay?” He flew to her side. Landed on his knees.

Her eyes fluttered open immediately. “Yes. I’m just resting.” Slowly, she sat up. “You were here already.”

“Huh?”

She pointed to the message he’d written in dust earlier that day—such a short time ago, yet it felt like decades. “What does it mean?”

“What do you mean, what does it mean?” He stood up again, embarrassed that he’d panicked when she’d merely closed her eyes in exhaustion. An inspection of her arm showed that no new blood had soaked through the bandage she still held against it. “It says I’m alive.”

“Not that,” she said. He tried to catch any resentment in her voice. But she didn’t sound surprised that he’d been to the house already. “The other part. The letters.”

He looked again at the initials. It was so obvious to him—but of course, to her, it meant nothing.

“You really wanna know?”

His heart was still racing, but as he looked over the letters, his mind calmed once more, and his limbs moved without frenzy—one hand to stroke her cheek, an unconscious movement he couldn’t have resisted even if he wanted to, and the other to take her unbandaged arm.

“Of course.” Her eyes were on him. When he moved her hand, though, she looked to the table, to the letter B, and what he was writing there with the tip of her finger.

Bree.

She frowned, confused, until he did it again. Guided her finger to form the rest of the letters that were missing behind the W.

Silence draped over them, but it wasn’t the boggy, drowning, thought-twisting kind. It was the kind that made him forget why the house was so silent. It was the kind that dripped with sweetness and with promise, that inhabited the space between strangers and not, between fear and loyalty, between the past and the future.

“Will,” she breathed. “Your name is Will.”

No doubt. No mistrust. Not even a question; it was as if, by some magic, she had always known, and the revelation was no surprise. The sound of his name coming from those lips was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, like birdsong after a storm or the crunch of boots on a fresh, white crust of snow.

“My name is Will,” he echoed.

Bree was silent again, gazing at him with wide, shining eyes. In unison, they drew closer, and Will’s entire body tingled with every possibility contained in the moments between them, in their shivering breaths that seemed to go in and out as one, and in the crackling air that seemed now to connect rather than separate.

And then she was the one with her arms around him, those bird’s wings enveloping him as if they might never let go, and her lips were pressed to his. Her kiss was warm, as soft as air, almost, and just as life-giving. It tasted the way he imagined starlight would: sweet and bright and colourful, like strawberries in summer, like apples in autumn, like cinnamon and sugar and just-brewed tea.

With his pounding heart rattling every inch of his body, Will Wardrew kissed Bree Scarlett back, and even though their world was in shambles and maybe always had been, there was a moment where everything—everything—was right.

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Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

@starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@clairelsonao3

@gala1981

@pleasestaywithmedarling

@kixngiggles

✨

[practically-an-x-man]

You get a professional animator to do one (1) animatic for each of your OCs. What song are you chosing, and what vibes are you going for with each OC?

Ooooooh thank you!!! I've thought about hypothetical animatics for some of my OCs before, but... not ALL of them, so this will be interesting!

Rae: Free by Mother Mother. I'm imagining every "Love let my love inside go... free" being a bloom of her abilities, all this bright silver light as she puts shields around what she loves, and all the other parts of the song being some gentler moments from her life.

Robin: I think it would be fun to play into her musical theatre/opera side - Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams (from Footloose). The animatic would jump between her onstage, playing out the song as an actor in the musical, and some little soft scenes of her and Peter being all cute together.

Madison: I know when you recommended it first I said that Belladonna by Ava Max was more of a Nikoletta song (and it is, but I have a different animatic idea for her here), but it could work for Madison too I think. It would focus on her mutation, maybe a few fight scenes with her blinking in and out of sight with her glass knives. Then we see her knives get shattered, and the fins and spines breaking through her skin (sort of a stylized version of what happens in her story), and then the final chorus is her with her enhanced mutation (really driving home the "poison/venom" themes there)

Ophelia: Heartbreaker by Pat Benatar. I'd definitely go with a stylized fight scene for her, probably the fight against Charybdis since that's her biggest fight scene. I'm sure there are other songs that would fit her, but... idk man, Heartbreaker is just permanently linked to Ophelia in my mind, I really need a fight scene set to that for her.

Gia: Absolute Lithops Effect by the Mountain Goats. I'm imagining it starting with Gia fresh out of HYDRA, limping on an old and unfitting prosthetic and opening up this rundown and boarded-up shop in Hell's Kitchen. Gradually we see the green come into her life again: she cleans up her shop and paints it in bright colors, flowers bloom, her clover thrives across the back wall of her shop, she gets a new prosthetic and bright tattoos slowly gather on her skin as she rebuilds her life.

Jasper: Falling Away With You by Muse. I already used it for a Heartstrings chapter, but it could also work as this quieter, emotional piece for an animatic. With the lyrics, and the way it switches between these softer verses and a more intense chorus, I could see a series of flashbacks between the soft, lighthearted start to their relationship with Kyle, and then the angsty journey to recovery and readjustment after he dies and is brought back.

Kestrel: This is another one you recommended, but Daffodil by Florence + The Machine. I could see a lot of nature imagery, and a lot of Kestrel's transformations into various different animals. I don't have a particular story in mind, just a cool showcase of Kestrel as a character.

Katherine: The Lion's Roar by First Aid Kit! I can see Katherine wandering through the desert, with golden magic twining around her hands like ribbons, until this mirage appears ahead of her: at first it wavers, then solidifies into a silhouette of a lion, then splits again into two figures walking towards her - Bastet and Sekhmet. They greet her like family members, maybe pull her into a hug or something, then disappear back into the desert.

Quinn: Breakdown by Icon for Hire. I could see this as a past/present thing, where the first half of the video is her before the accident, running and parkouring with her first crew - and then the music cuts off, utter silence, black and white as she falls and hits the ground. The silence lingers for a few long moments.... and then we're back to the song, full color and vibrancy again, with her post-accident still slipping through the crowds and picking pockets.

Eris: Guillotine Dreams by KiNG MALA for sure!! I want to see Eris fighting like an animal, covered in blood but laughing through the whole way, just causing absolute havoc. I just... I want to see them being an utter riot!!

Nikoletta: I still love Whispers by Halsey for her (thanks again for the rec!) and I think that the tone of it really suits her. I think it would be a very stark animatic, a lot of Nikoletta sitting alone in these dark rooms, a lot of black and white with very few details around her (as an echo of her feeling isolated both internally and externally). Either it could just stay there and be an angst piece, or there could be the gradual addition of colors as she bonds with the Squad - yellow for Rick, red for Harley, eventually a whole myriad of colors for Abner.

Jimmy: Hemorrhage (in my Hands) by Fuel. I'm imagining it starting out pretty angsty... Jimmy's lost kiss, him getting shot in the chest and watching the blood spray out into his hands, him waking up as a ghost and wandering Coney Island, and then... right at the end of the song, while he's on his knees and trying desperately to catch the blood spilling out... we see a figure step in and offer him a hand up, and the blood flow begins to slow.

Prometheus: I know I don't usually include them in the lineup, but... I wrote a whole fic about their transformation from a nightmare into a dream, and it's based on The Calling by the Amazing Devil. I would kill to see that whole transformation sequence set to the song.

[prairiedust]

one thousand days of destiel, or cas: fuckerupper of endings

Idk why I’m crawling out from under my woodpile to write this, except that it occurred to me that in three years I’ve not rewatched a single episode of Supernatural and have at least two dozen tags yet blacklisted on tumblr, and that I am still not okay about this stupid show.

I never tried to tie up the folklore/author themes I’d been geeking out about through the last seasons, neither as the show was ending nor afterwards. I’ve been simmering now for over a thousand days. I could not even write a complete sentence about spn for all this time, and so I just left that pot on the back burner and did other things. Finished my Master’s degree. Started a new job. Saw my oldest child graduate from high school and move off to college, and helped my younger child move on to sixth grade. Watched some other shows, got a new blorbo, saw some movies, started painting again, picked up a couple of new hobbies as I am wont to do.  

Today is the 5th of November, 2023. (ETA i sat on this for a bit.)

November 5th, 2020, was exactly one thousand and ninety-five days ago.

I see gifs from the show from time to time and I think to myself, wow, that scene/episode/series is completely irrelevant to my life now. I am fine and normal about everything. But if it really was, if I really was, it would not hurt so much to see the gifs and the lyric posts and the amvs when they aren’t caught in my tag filters. So maybe it’s time to get some things out of my head and onto paper.

I genuinely, nearsightedly, naively thought that since Dabb et al had been the ones writing the whole folk v author themes, and thus posing as someone we could count as being on “our side,” the folk-side of the postmodern audience, they’d honor that conceit, even to the very last shot. 

They did not.

And yet… they absolutely did.

Which hurts and is fucked up, but also it’s fine. It’s fine.

In the end, the only “folk hero” (by which I mean the only force in the spn universe capable of warping the threads of the story with any permanence) was Castiel. When Castiel left the story (of his own volition, if you can find a comfortable layer of this meta pie for that concept to rest in,) the writers reverted to God Mode. Because Castiel had been their freedom, their mouthpiece, their avenue for improvisation, and so at the end of the series…

well, we got You changed me/I love you

   •

and then we got “Cas helped.”

So much has been written about that pivot point, but genuinely I don’t give a rat’s ass about rewrites, producers, the cutting room floor, or COVID. It exhausts me, and I’m not beholden to writing about spn for grades or notes or any kind of other bullshit that would oblige me to do research.

I feel like… we got what we got.

So let’s criticize some media.

The Paradox: 

Cas imploded— went from flexing the narrative from within to being narrated by a force from without. And I couldn’t bear to wrap my head around that for a long time. It seemed that this “twist” was beyond cruel. That’s what he got. Vanished and nerfed. For saying ily. That was what happened when he was finally in focus, fully revealed. He lost. He was relegated, along with Jack, to become heaven’s Two Men and a Truck.

It was a trick, the whole “Chuck is a writer” plotline. The Author regained control of the character that had previously been acting independently. Very Pirandellesque, very frustrating, ultimately even tragic.

So, yes, thematically and critically, having Castiel give up his Agency for Characterhood– giving up his ability to create plot for a role as a character in a plot— was ‘literary’ brilliance. It cemented his status as a grand fucker-upper of the show in a way that any show writer “authoring” a requited destiel ending would not and could not have done. Even Jack, I believe, had been “manipulated” into god-hood from within the narrative. Jack was Dabb’s grand metaphor, he was a product of Author. Castiel was… well, he was a chaos engine from the moment he walked through those barn doors. 

To seal the metaphor, the writers ended up living that truth.

I really don’t know if I’m being cogent about this. I’ve been struggling to turn this idea into words for, like, ONE THOUSAND DAYS.

The folk-vs-Author themes becoming A Thing in The Supernatural Show was like a chemical reaction: once the ions had bonded, the resultant compound could not be separated back into the different materials. What on that screen was Author, what was “author,” ie show writer, and what was text-experiencer-as-author? Where did the Sam-as-magician arc go, what were we supposed to do with the semi-metatextual moments that Mary had, having been brought back into the narrative by Amara, not Chuck? Everything got so out of control. Add in a smidgen of secret-sauce-TPTB possibly superseding the author/Author, and what you get is that ridiculous mess of a final two episodes.

It’s not about the rusty trombone or the butt hole pleasures. It’s about love. And kids.

Thank you, hon. It really is. (The above line was left in this doc by my spouse. It is a quote from The 40-Year-Old Virgin. I’ll allow it.)

Anyway. It was hard to see past the sound and the fury of it all. 

*****

I was feeling nostalgic several months ago and took a swim in my old meta tags; I found a gem from season…10? Idk and idc, but it was from “The Things We Left Behind.” 

I compared Claire to Sleeping Beauty (a tale that got a lot of use in later seasons) and wrote: “I tend to think that Castiel’s entire arc is about desperate and unintentionally misguided attempts to Change The Ending of whatever story he’s shown up in” and reading that again really kind of sucker-punched me.

‘We’re making it up as we go’ was the crux of Cas’ existence. Remember that half-related story in Baby wherein Cas got himself hitched to the Djinn queen? Remember when Jack died and the Empty came to claim him in Heaven and Cas made that terrible bargain? The last-minute attempt to gank Lucifer that actually got him killed and sent to The Empty?

Time and time again, Castiel’s go-to for “changing the narrative,” for advancing his plot, is self-sacrifice. In Chuck’s house against the archangel. The Leviathan disaster. Saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer. The Bargain for Jack in Heaven. And those times it worked out. Not without great pain for both the other characters and for the viewers, but he always came back. 

And with each return, his motivation became clearer. (Picture your favorite screencap of Dean here.)

Cas’ love grew, crystalized, and then disappeared, like frost on the windowpane of a house on fire.

If they had continued the CasDean storyline, it would have ultimately been The Author IRL writing/creating/manifesting/materializing ‘destiel.’ And so by putting a torch to all of that architecture, they essentially gave everything to us. Unspoilt. Fingerprints wiped. Serial numbers scratched away. Jailbroken. Whatever floats your boat. 

The confession was both affirmation and abnegation. Symbolically, The AuthorTM had washed his hands of it, but with destiel out of the picture, The Author also got his ending.

This is why “Cas helped” felt like a ‘fuck you.’ If Cas was out of the narrative, why did he come back as one of Heaven’s real estate developers? It did not fit. 

And yet. It did. Because Chuck won. Chuck, or everything that an Author represents in television land– TPTB, showrunner legacies, multiple producers, a chaotic and treacherous and politically messy writer’s room, multiple incompatible or unresolvable MOs and visions— all that ends up being packaged and presented as a single unerring vision.

So I have to admit, although I don’t have to do it with any ion of grace, that in the end it was pretty fucking smart.

Destiel is ours. Destiel is the folk ending. The Author never got to touch it, never so much as breathed on it, was so far divorced from the concept that the absence thereof going forward hit us like a truck full of bricks.

Yes, it hurts that Dean was just left on the floor until the credits rolled, that there were no final words, no ensuing acknowledgement. 

I’ll go so far outside the Text as to address the ‘Dean can’t reciprocate’ direction from one of the scripts:

If Dean had made a single move onscreen. Uttered a word. In Despair or either of the other two episodes.

Destiel would have been claimed by The Author. 

Anyway. I’ve been collecting posts now and again under the tag ‘the endless folklore of supernatural.’ For three years, the fandom has continued to loot, to ransack, to graffiti, to create and re-create, to burn, to mix, and to distill. 

There’s all kinds of things in that tag, it’s sort of a kitchen sink of everything that I thought was even tangentially relevant to folk-Destiel and the postmodern experience of creating text as a reader/viewer etc. 

We turned a literary story based on an urban folktale back into folklore. 

And so it goes.

I doubt I will do much more analysis of this show, even if it comes back, and I unfortunately can’t touch The Winchesters. But I can’t say I never will. I just thought three years, one thousand days, was a pretty good place to leave a marker on the trail.

—

Epilogue: About The Winchesters:

I did not finish watching The Winchesters because of something wildly, randomly, but highly personally triggering that was built into one of the episodes; however I am very sorry that it was canceled or possibly ironically lost to the WGA-SAGAFTRA strike of 2023.

“What is the maddest thing a man can do? Let himself die.” That’s the clue that leads Castiel to his hidden grace in a copy of The Man of LaMancha in 10.18 ‘The Book of the Damned,’ written by one Robbie Thompson.

I noticed from the get-go that Thompson gave Carlos the last name Cervantez. He was nodding to the self-immolation of the last cadre of writers of Supernatural and stating clearly that he was holding a pen, not a match.

Want some very fun and amusing and wildly pertinent facts about the Don Quixote books?

The narrative conceit of Don Quixote IN THE FIRST PLACE LOL is that Cervantes claims to have found a manuscript by a historian named Cide Hamete Benegeli and Cervantes thought the story was pretty neat, if a little rough; Cervantes retells the story for us from what he’d read by that author, distilling the “original” into the book we experience as Don Quixote the Man of La Mancha.

The final words of Cervantes’ Part One are “perhaps another will sing with a better pick.”

Later, someone publishing under the pseudonym Alonso Fernandez de Avellaneda wrote their own part two, feeling that the original author was taking too long to get their ass in gear (or judging by their own preface they felt that Cervantes had not even done the original story justice in the first place. Which is A Mood.)

So when someone actually did have the audacity to run off with his characters and commit word crimes with them, Cervantes absolutely obliterated the dude in his own Part Two. 

Thompson left Spn after season eleven. But, lest someone think this is a commentary about fan fic, he also wrote the episode Fan Fiction. So anyway all the Cervantez-Cervantes business was certainly something.

[infjinthecity]

Zhang Yixing: Grandline4, Shanghai (August 2024)

Four very short days after I arrived in China, I left Hangzhou where I’m living and got on a bullet train to Shanghai. Thinking back, it was insane of me to do this. There was so much I had to organize before I started work, but this was an opportunity of a lifetime. I had been trying to get tickets to Grandline 4 quite literally anywhere in the world, but none of the dates worked with my moving schedule. I felt like the only Beiker on planet earth that was going to miss this concert series. Then, a couple of weeks before my departure from Australia, in a very China-esque fashion, but especially typical of his studio, they dropped dates and ticket sales for Shanghai. It was his last stop on the Grandline tour for 2024, so it was going to be like the Hunger Games trying to get tickets.

Fortunately, I have an army of awesome women around me in this fandom and with their help, I was able to secure tickets for BOTH Shanghai dates. I was also fortunate enough to see him when he headlined Metamoon in New York City while I was living there but he was only on stage for 45 minutes, and it wasn’t his show. Besides, everyone knows Zhang Yixing in China is superior so I was simply dying to see him on his home turf.

And oh my god, he did not disappoint.

I joined the fandom after finding him on Street Dance of China Season 3. I showed up for Yibo but left with an obsession for the introverted Krump King of China. I fell in the Yixing hole back then and I have no desire to climb out – haha! But when I joined the fandom back then, and actually since then as well, it seemed that Yixing was moving through the world with an unhealthy amount of melancholy. Maybe it’s just me, but for so long all he was talking about was how lonely he was, his age, and his fears about his unrealized dreams. Now I understand that right after I joined his fandom COVID hit and many people around the world fell into a massive slump, but it was more than that with him. It seeped into every live stream he did, every interview, and his song lyrics became about these feelings, and it painted his face for a few years.

Well, after being in Shanghai, I think the collective agreement among fans is, that version of Zhang Yixing seems gone. His body is super healthy, and it’s obvious he’s done work on his mental health and the way in which he looks at the world in front of him. He radiates joy and happiness, and it is an absolute blessing to witness. It was unexpected, but his happiness and his contentedness eminates off of him. His smile is full and genuine. It was, hands down, my favourite part of both dates. I am so thankful I got to see him like that and I really hope that whatever he’s doing, he continues to do more of it!

I made it all the way through night one and almost all the way through night two before the tears started. He closed the second night with Breathe and if you follow me on other socials you will know I’ve been screaming about this song since he dropped it. It speaks to my heart and soul right now and I feel like he wrote it about me. Isn’t it funny how music can touch us like that? Anyway, the opening beats of Breathe started and I couldn’t hold my tears in. The Chinese auntie next to me chuckled at me, but it’s fine!

I really hope I get the chance to see him in China again. Shanghai was the last stop for 2024 as he’s focusing more on his stage and screen performances for now but music is his life so I’m sure there will inevitably be more shows next year.

A quick shoutout to his studio. I know as a fandom we tend to collectively and loudly shit all over the incompetence of his staff, but they really came through for me and my friend on night one. We were sitting in different sections (like everyone in China does) and she was much further away from the stage than me. We asked security if my friend could come through to my section and take some close up photos, but they weren’t having it. Someone from Yixing’s staff saw the exchange, clocked that we were both foreigners, and came to our rescue. He made a call and escorted us down to the barrier for photo ops. It was so nice of them, and it made our night – especially for my friend who wouldn’t have had the chance for such photos otherwise. So we’re on a no-ragging-on-studio kick – FOR NOW!

If you ever get the chance to see this wonderful soul in the flesh, don’t hesitate. He is worth every single dollar I spent on tickets – and I spent a loooottttttt.

I love him I love him I love him I love him. Probably not a normal amount, but that’s okay.

I have lots of videos from both nights but Tumblr only lets you upload one video per post so I'm dropping the video in question that brought on all the tears.

Till next time, peace!

[swanhookheart]

Thoughts on AI writing, the WGA strike, and ways to help

This whole post is a hot mess, but I think it communicates the point I'm trying to make so I'm gonna hit "publish" and call it a day, peeps!

In the last four years, I have worked as a writing tutor, a teaching assistant for first-year composition, an embedded tutor for ESL writing workshops, a reading partner, editor-in-chief of my school's literary magazine, and as a freelance college essay coach. I'm also a novelist (unpublished but working on it), a poet, recipient of my community college's 2021 Outstanding English Student Award, a voracious reader, and in possession of a two-year degree in Creative Writing (four-year Berkeley literature degree coming in Spring). I guess you could say I like words.

I could go on for days about all the reasons I hate ChatGPT being used as a writing aid (especially by students—ffs, pls don't make me have to report y’all for academic dishonesty; it will be a shitty experience for both of us), but here’s one I really care about: vulnerability.

As it is, ChatGPT's ability to generate prose rivals my own at about age eight (that is, it looks like a thesaurus vomited all over the page and still struggles to spell the word "fluorescent" when prompted—fuck that word, to be fair). But let's envision a world two, maybe five, years down the road where AI is capable of generating a flawless sentence. It's well-structured, the grammar checks out, everything's spelled right, and the words the algorithm has chosen work to communicate its thoughts. Even then, AI wouldn't be able to replace or compete with even the most inexperienced writers among us. Why? Because, in my opinion at least, imperfections are what make art, art.

Any time I get the urge to overthink something I've created or edit it to the point of unrecognizability (which is often; I have OCD, fam!), I like to think of this sentence in Latin:

perfectus est.

To those who have not subjected themselves to completed 2 years of Latin, this might look like it'd translate to "it is perfect", but the actual, direct translation beside the adjective "perfectus, -a, -um" in all my textbooks and dictionaries has been, instead, "finished, completed". Proper classicists can feel free to correct me here, but the original Latin doesn't seem to carry with it quite the same connotations of quality or superiority that we have in the English word "perfect", and that's low-key fucking inspirational. I think about it like this: things can be "perfect" without being flawless. They only need to be done, and "done" leaves a lot more freedom for self-expression. If just being "done" makes something "perfect", then whatever peculiarities that piece possesses are also perfect. This makes total sense in my mind, but I feel like I'm on the verge of having a stroke trying to articulate it.

Art, for me, is never about the completed piece itself. It's the quirks, it's the process, it's the slight imperfections—like finding out 14 years after starting my fantasy series that the surname of one of my main characters is slang for "severe diarrhea" but being too committed to the name at this point to change it. It's the brushstroke in a painting that doesn't quite stay in the lines or the musician’s voice cracking as they sing through an especially personal set of lyrics. Some wise person once gave me a variation of this advice, and I’ve just kind of run with it ever since: the little details in our creations we convince ourselves are flaws are, more often than not, just spaces where our humanity is seeping through. They’re not bad. They’re just instances of us, as creators, making ourselves vulnerable in the name of our craft. Whether it's in a writing workshop, therapy, school, or anywhere else, I think we all feel a bit self-conscious or even uncomfortable any time we have to share pieces of ourselves with others. Baring our souls is scary. But I like to think humans are generally good at heart, and the kinds of things they typically have to say in response to these instances are designed to enhance the bits of humanity they find in our works, rather than erase or destroy them. So, making choices as artists that force us to feel vulnerable and get us out of our comfort zone because we think we’re “not doing it right” are not just welcome experiences to those intent on growing, but essential. And AI cannot do that. It can't feel, it can't think, and so these moments of vulnerability never occur. The opportunity to generate real, human connection has been lost.

The human brain is a remarkable thing. It’s "trained", as it were (in the same way ChatGPT is trained), to think the way it does not just because it's consumed a lot of other people's material, but because it's experienced a lot in its own right. We've all experienced love, we've mourned, we’ve endured trauma, we’ve laughed to the point of tears, we've left the fucking TV remote in the refrigerator again dammit, and all of these things affect how we relate to the world and to certain topics we may write about. We’re not even touching on how neurodivergence and other brain stuff can further change how we experience life; there’s even more variety to be found when factors like that are taken into account, but I'm not trying to write a dissertation here. As the products of all these influences, our brains make very intentional choices when we write (even when it feels like we're just slapping stuff on a page and hoping it sticks). The formal features of our prose are all going to be dependent on a combination of things we’ve done, felt, and read.

I mean, I guess some might want to use the Infinite Monkey Theorem (the idea that, if you leave infinite monkeys with infinite typewriters for an infinite amount of time, they will inevitably produce a finite number of texts, including the Complete Works of William Shakespeare, an infinite number of times) to argue that writing is actually more formulaic than artistic and so maybe utilizing these algorithms is totally fine. I guess the algorithm is being compared to infinite monkeys here. I don’t know. I’ve gotten hungry since sitting down to write this silly blog post and so I’m getting a little distracted. But humans aren’t alive an infinite amount of time, and the brevity of our existence necessitates a certain urgency in what and how we write—an urgency that leads us to conclude it’s better our work be flawed but out there than faultless but stuck inside our heads. So we write. We write good shit, we write bad shit, we buy a copy of Scrivener or MS Word, we join Tumblr dot com and publish all kinds of silly memes and dick jokes, and we get a world full of funky, crazy, chaotic art that reflects our funky, crazy, chaotic selves. Our humanity seeps out with every word we commit to paper, and we let it because it’s better to live in a world filled with jagged edges and mismatched hues than it is to live in one created by something that is literally fucking incapable of feeling.

You might think this is a great blog post. You might think it's garbage. You’re valid either way. But AI couldn't have written it. It’s full of tiny little pieces of me that just kinda slipped their way in as I was writing. It’s not super polished. It’s a bit all over the place because oh my god I’m craving a cookie but want to finish writing this before I leave my desk to go and get one. No matter what anyone’s thoughts are on my particular voice, though, I think we can all agree that it exists. It exists because I write often—daily, if I can—and because I feel, I think, I am. Those things come through, and they’re what make this a semi-coherent (I hope) blog post as opposed to a smattering of random words ChatGPT probably couldn’t define for you at gunpoint. Whatever you think about this post, AI couldn’t have written it and that’s the point.

This is just one of the reasons why I support the WGA strike and will continue to do so for as long as it takes the union to get the deal they deserve. I am not and will likely never be a member of this union, but the work they’re doing with this strike to push back against AI and its wildfire-like proliferation across creative industries is essential. Algorithms simply cannot do the work that humans do—not today, not ever. Not because they’re not advanced enough, but because vulnerability is what make art, art. Connecting with other human beings—which is all any of us ever really hope to do with our art anyway—requires that vulnerability.

I’m just some random dweeb on the internet, seeing marginalized workers struggle because a bunch of crappy billionaires don't want to come to the table and feeling like shouting some words into the void about it. Maybe nobody will see this post, and that’s okay. But maybe they will and I can do some good with it. I haven’t got a lot of money to help (I’m in my broke college student era). But donations to the Entertainment Community Fund are being accepted and these funds go back into the hands of union (WGA and SAG-AFTRA) members as hardship funds if they need financial help during the work stoppage—this is my understanding, at least; pls correct me if I’m wrong!

Link below:

If you can’t donate, please reblog. I know it would mean a lot to me if I were in their position.

[tornrose24]

Tagged by @hey-hey-j  for the tag game. It’ll be interesting to see how I answer these.

Rules: if you get tagged in this, answer the questions that are written and make sure to swap out one question at the end of it for the next person to answer.

1. Are you named after anyone?  I’m sort of named after my aunt, who was named after a character of a TV show (that my grandfather liked) based of a book, and THAT character might of been named after someone. I admit it’s kind of amusing that it’s such a chain of ‘named after this person.’

2. Do you ever go window shopping on sites like Etsy, and if so, what kinds of things do you look at?   Not really.

3. What’s your choice of listening material when doing stuff? When I’m writing I prefer listing to music without lyrics (if it matches the tone of whatever I’m writing it helps) and it varies. Most often it’s video game music, Miyazaki, classical, etc. If I’m just doing art I’ll throw on YouTube videos.

4. Do you like a song for its sound or for its lyrics? Often both. I’m picky about what songs I like, but I like it when both work well together. (Though I hate it when the lyrics DON’T match the tone of the music, or aren’t sung in the right tone). Also, there’s some songs where I prefer the cover version over the original (I don’t care for Billie Eilish’s singing, and there’s a Motown version of Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake it off’ by PostModern Jukebox that is vastly superior to the original version.)

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? Usually whatever they wear or else their physical appearance. It depends.

6. What’s your eye color? Green. (Though maybe they might be hazel since there’s a light brown ring around the pupils).

7. Scary movies or happy endings? I prefer happy endings. Some scary movies are actually quite enjoyable, but only if they are done right (Jordan Peele’s Nope is such an example). Otherwise I hate it when scary films get too violent, have a downer ending, or involve topics of abuse. Or have constant jumpscares, which is why I never really got into most horror games.

8. Any special talents? Singing. I’ve done choir, Opera, musical theater, etc. I’ve done some acting as well. Drawing and writing are pretty obvious ones for those who know my works. Painting is a major one too.

9. What trait in others draws you to them? Honesty is a huge one. I like it when people are open about themselves and what they like, as well as what they don’t like. Or if they tell you something you need to hear.

10. What are your hobbies? Writing and drawing. Painting is a big one too. I used to play video games but I don’t as much (partly because I feel like a new system is going to be coming soon anyway). I suppose singing could count.

11. Do you have any pets? I used to have cats. Fantasia was my last cat and I had her from middle school to some time after I was done with college/university. She always sat on the table whenever I got help with math and she’d watch me and my dad.

12. What sports do you play/Have played? Tennis is probably my favorite. Soccer is fun too. I used to do running when I was really little. However I was more of a theater kid.

13. How tall are you? 5 feet, 2 and a half inches.

14. Favorite subject in school? Literature/Language Arts. I was one of the few kids that would read whatever I was assigned more than once. When I was in middle school we had to read ‘The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe’ and ‘Roll of thunder hear my cry’ and I read the other books in those series. I also took pride in scoring the highest out of anyone on a test for Cyrano de Bergerac in my high school senior year. (However I ****ing hated reading Moby Dick over the summer) and was NOT happy when I found out that I didn’t really NEED to read the entire thing to do all the paperwork/answer all the questions.)

I don’t know if art and choir count since they were extra curricular classes, but I loved them as well and could share lots of stories. Plus one of my favorite teachers was my high school art teacher.

15. Dream job? I would love to be a writer and illustrate my own books. Alternatively it’d be awesome to do artwork for an animation studio.

I’m tagging @artistcaptainbendy  as the next person. Anyone else can do it too.

I’m changing #12 to: If you became a God/Deity, what would your domain be and how could you use your powers to make the world a better place?

[vulpiximisa]

Rating Dream Festival Performance Outfits (1)

Glory Story (Vampire Lord/Cool Priest series) (ep 1)

The first look at what the boys can transform into and they chose a very interesting theme? I mean Vampire Lord outfit looks sick as hell, especially on Kanade, with the earring. The Cool Priests are kind of… there I guess, just to match with the group. I guess I’m just more surprised that a General Song could come with such a themed costume. I’d get if it was like, Halloween themed or whatever Gothic theme unit/song, but Vampire/Priest theme for Glory Story is just an interesting take.

8/10 for the concept alone, 6.5 for Cool Priest, 8 for Vampire Lord

2032 (Holiday Stripes series) (ep 2)

Um, it’s not bad for an outfit by itself. But as a performing one, especially for a song like 2032, (which is also very conflicting in terms of the lyrics and performance and what the show is trying to tell us), I guess it’s a bit casual? I guess the performance itself was casual since theyre technically not full time idols yet, so it kinda feels like theyre just fooling around. Doesn’t help that my sis immediately burst out laughing and “you know you had to do it to him” so now I can’t unsee.

6.8/10

2032 (Sky Stage series) (ep 3)

2032 Part Two. There’s no saving the song/performance, but at least it means something. I like the top and shoes but the pants are too patterned for my tastes. This is going to be a complaint for several more outfits, but I guess this Genre of Clothes Cards is not for me because I know that each card piece has to stand out on its own since it has its own card. Maybe if Kanade or Shin had one piece of article that differed like the first 2032 performance guys had different shoe colors, it would look a little nicer. I do like the studded gems on the top and bottom and the lapels though. 

7/10

Birdcage (Wild Guys series) (ep4)

I think it’s neat! It’s not something I see often in idols, but this is half a dress up series, so I guess they can cover their bases. Again, I’m not a fan of everybody getting the Same Exact outfit if they're all going to wear it at the same time, which doesn’t leave any room for personal customizations. The outfit itself is okay, the pants are basic enough and the boots match.

8/10

Three Musketeers of the Rose (Imperial Guardian) (ep5)

I like it a lot! It’s classy, they look stylish and proper, sleek, very cool. They get to get a variation of the top for their designated colors, finally. The pants have a side chain and some badges, also very neat. No complaints!

9.5/10

Starting Together (Fresh Paint Series) (ep6)

Oof. I get what they’re going for, funky fresh hip hop type style. The pants match with the top but the shoes seem a bit basic for the rest of the look. Uhhhh, it’s fine, not my type of clothing.

7/10

[sheacouleecametoslay]

All-Stars 4 (2018/9)

I'm becoming disillusioned by the All-Stars series. AS2 is obviously a classic, but AS1 was D.O.A. from the moment the teams twist arrived. AS3 fell apart at the finale, or maybe it was after Ben self-eliminated. While AS4 had too many episodes and it ALSO fell apart at the finale... or maybe it was when Manila was eliminated. This season can be split into three parts: Episodes 1-3: The Gia Gunn experience Episodes 4-6: Three episodes where effectively no one is eliminated Episodes 7-10: The unsatisfying conclusion I'd say those first 3 episodes were the high point. Gia departing so early on was a major blow. Whether you love her or hate her, she provided the most entertainment. But there was just no way to justify keeping her any longer lol. Meanwhile, the middle portion of AS4 had serious pacing issues – Latrice was eliminated, then no one eliminated, then Latrice came back... so basically nothing changed in 3 episodes. This section is still enjoyable though, mainly thanks to Valentina being Valentina, Manila trying to shake things up, and the LaLaPaRUza episode. But episodes 7-10 have other issues. Valentina was the other big source of entertainment, and she's gone before final 6. Latrice overstayed after she returned. I would've preferred to see Gia back, but she would've been re-eliminated immediately. The final 5 was so thrilling that there was a suspenseful rock-paper-scissors match... yeah. And the last 2 challenges are major letdowns. The late-season acting challenges always feel like an afterthought. But the bigger crime is the ru-mix. “Read U Wrote U”, “Category Is...”, and “Kitty Girl” were my favourite challenges of their respective seasons (and “American” wasn’t bad). But “Super Queen” is so underwhelming. The verses were too short and lacked energy, and the lyrics weren't as good. But let's talk about the two elephants in the room. Firstly, Naomi eliminating Manila. Which is one of the most shocking moments in the show's herstory. A decision so unpopular that it caused production to modify the All-Stars format permanently. But I don't get the backlash. The twist was designed for exactly this to happen. I wish more queens had been open to the idea, actually. If everyone is going to vote based off of merit anyways, it's boring television, and you might as well let Ru make the decisions. Some of the votes felt personal this season anyways. Secondly, there's the double crowning. I've seen comments that the producers wanted to diversify the All-Stars winner list. But also; Trinity had the better track record, while Monet was better in the “Super Queen” challenge and she “won” the final 2 lip sync. The finale performances have to account for something right? But Mo should've been in the top 2 instead. Both of Mo's bottom placements were bulls**t, and if you take that into account, she would've (and should've) had the best track record. Also, the editing of the double win was so blatantly stitched together in post-production, with Ru's voice over and the queens not looking shocked at all. I think the producers had wanted a double crowning for a while and were just waiting for the right moment. But it didn't feel like a satisfying conclusion to this season. The other big twist of AS4 was the first ever LaLaPaRUza. The idea was definitely flawed, since all 4 eliminated queens could theoretically replace the 4 currently in the competition. Production would never allow that though. But it was a fun twist. As for the other challenges: the Talent Show wasn't as good as the previous 2, and the high placements were questionable. I want to see something unique in those Talent Shows. But I guess it's more about selling your brand. I also didn't like how they changed the Snatch Game format. The Roast was rough at times too; Lady Bunny was funnier than half of them. But I enjoyed the girls groups challenge and “Jersey Justice”. The clubs challenge looked taxing (they actually had to paint their own sets), but it was nice to see something new. “Club 96” lives in my head rent-free now. And I liked the Stacy Layne Matthews cameos. The Best Judy Makeover allowed for some meaningful moments too, like revisiting Latrice's prison story. As for the casting... a few of my faves went down in my ranking. While Valentina and Manila grew on me the most. Honestly, I liked the AS3 cast better. Manila and Latrice were the surprise entrances of AS4, going to an ad break with a teams twist fake out. They came in as legends and had totally different trajectories. Meanwhile, Mo and Monet came back immediately after Season 10. Maybe not the best idea, but I won't say no another season of Mo.

Queens Ranking: 10. Farrah Moan Farrah's intro mentioned growth, but she went right back to crying again. And this cast wasn't having it. Her whining turned into annoying self-pitying in AS4: “I never once felt like I could be a winner”; “it's gonna take me a really long time to get over it”. Farrah took the competition too seriously. She was insecure and wanted to prove she had talent. But Trinity was right – your Drag Race placement doesn't define you. She also had attitude over Mo's choreo. Then in the LaLaPaRUza episode, Farrah cried about Valentina eliminating her. She thought Valentina believed in her. That said, I was gagged when Farrah fought back against Gia (“Some of us don't have to force storylines to get their airtime”). Gia brought up this past drama out of nowhere, and Farrah didn't want any part of it. She didn't think Gia's intentions were genuine. Then on her way out, Farrah told Gia “you actually don't love me”. Otherwise lol at Farrah not knowing the veterans were LGBTQ. In the competition: Farrah wasn't funny in the Reading mini-challenge, then she fell over in the Talent Show and you can see the panic and disappointment in her face. Her glittery outfit was great though. But oh boy, Farrah's dancing in “Everybody Says Love”... 9. Latrice Royale Yeah... I wish Latrice never came back. She came off entitled on AS4?; bringing up this “unfulfilled prophecy” and saying she should stay because she's respected and beloved. The girls were hesitant to eliminate her, but Latrice shouldn't get a free pass just because she's Latrice. She had her moments like: “this ain't the first time I'm looking at your bald head” or commenting on Valentina's flat ass or “we back at Season 4 with the romper room f**kery” or “baby we don't talk about All Stars 1” or “she made her bed, lie in it... at home” or laughing her ass off while putting on the smock. She was supportive to Valentina too. But I'd rather watch Season 4 Latrice. Otherwise, she got annoyed by Gia in Snatch Game and told the judges Gia was unsportsmanlike. Then she got annoyed at Mo and Monet during the team planning. She was delusional about her “Jersey Justice” performance. And she called Mo's elimination reasoning disingenuous. Latrice claimed to have no hard feelings towards Mo, but she kept talking about it that episode. In the competition: Latrice started strong, between her flag waving in the Talent Show and her surprisingly decent flow in “Don't Funk it Up”. But then didn't bother keeping character in Snatch Game after Gia pissed her off. She also had this “I'm over it” expression during “Jersey Justice” and just stood there not talking. However, Latrice gave a lip sync worthy of returning. After that, she was a good host in the Clubs challenge. But her Makeover outfits looked like vomit. She was the obvious one to go at the Final 6. Ironically, she wasn't the worst at the Final 5 when she actually left. Also, Latrice's runways were basically the same all season. Her Plastique one was creative though. 8. Trinity The Tuck Trinity had a tough, cold, insistent way of talking (ie. “You a big ass bitch. Make it known. Honey”), just like on Season 9. But she was so bothered by everything on AS4? Every week, she was adamant about who should go home, and had a “BE GONE” attitude about it. Just no sympathy for the flops. She kept complaining about Gia, then acted nice to Gia's face during deliberation. She “ugh”-ed at Valentina's telenovela speech. She called out Monet's wardrobe. She insinuated that Manila didn't have morals for playing strategically, which was so judgmental, and yelled “ALERT ALERT” in confessional. All because Trinity wanted to beat the best. She then condescendingly told Manila “you restored my faith”. But later gave Manila recognition after the clubs challenge. Also, Trinity was bothered by the eliminated queens returning. She acted superior whenever someone came for her. And she resented working with Latrice (“...to pull my weight AND THEN SOME”). I agreed with Trinity a few times though, and she makes sense as a winner, but not a rootable one. In the competition: Did Trinity deserve her 4 wins? Snatch Games yes – she overshadowed everybody as Caitlyn Jenner and had funny interjections. “Sexy and the Kitty” sure – there wasn't much competition there. The Clubs maybe – her Spelling Bee stuff was funny. But the Talent Show no. She also wasn't funny in “Jersey Justice” and forgot her character name. She was mean in the Roast and tripped over her words. And she served nursery rhyme counting in “Super Queen”. Moreover, despite being involved in 6/13 lip syncs, I only enjoyed her in two of them. “You Spin Me Round” had the worst reveal ever. Trinity tries too hard sometimes. Her runways were polished though – After Dark, Curves and Swerves, Angelic White, and the cheetah. 7. Jasmine Masters I like Jasmine but her AS4 stint felt pointless. She was there for a good time not a long time lol. She wasn't playing to win and she didn't have much of a storyline. Even in the LaLaPaRUza episode, she wasn't doing much. I assume Jasmine was brought back because of her famous memes, since she didn't last long on Season 7. On AS4, she laughed a bunch in confessional. She decided to “wing it” with her stand-up routine, which unsurprisingly bombed. Then she got defensive during deliberation, thinking she actually was funny, and saying she had great reviews at the Laugh Factory. While in the return episode, she said she wouldn't do anything differently. Still, Jasmine had a couple funny moments like “over some balls getting pushed up” and not being able to twerk against Trinity in the lip sync. In the competition: Jasmine gave a stand-out routine about ass breath that received no laughs. And then she couldn't twerk in the lip sync. 6. Monét X Change Monet didn't show as much growth as Mo did within the same time frame. Her runways didn't improve and her track record was just as inconsistent. And I'm getting tired of the sponge references. She also annoyed me when she flip-flopped on Manila. First she vowed revenge, then she reluctantly cooled off after hearing Manila's reasoning, but then she decided to be a “petty bitch from Brooklyn” and vote Manila anyways. Monet can be opinionated at times – calling Seasons 7 and 9 boring, saying “oh s**t no” during Valentina's entrance, or thinking she'd outdo Trinity's “Sex and the Kitty” role because she knows the show. While her confessions tend to be “middle-of-the-road”, with some jokes here and there (“she might send RuPaul home!”). But she had her fun moments like asking about alien drag queens, admitting to crashing funerals, and sneaking into clubs at 12-13 years old. And her WTF face at Valentina's latest delusions was hilarious. In the competition: Monet was very hit or miss. She sold her performance in “Everybody Say Love”, and she knew how deliver a punchline in the Roast. But her voice cracked in the Talent Show, she kept referencing Whitney Houston song titles in Snatch Game, she rambled on in “Jersey Justice” (but at least she had more jokes than Trinity), and she was criticized for her characterization in “Sex and the Kitty”. Oh yeah, and I didn't understand her top 2 placement in the Makeover. Monet's runways and lip syncs were underwhelming this season as well. Her finale look was by far her best. The wine glass on her ass was funny though. 5. Naomi Smalls Naomi had the smallest edit of this cast, but she had her shady moments like: “you're my Lady Bunny” to Manila, “you have her old nose” to Monet looking like Nene Leakes, “are they your best friend” to Manila listing reasons to eliminate someone, “Did they teach you that in jail too?” to Latrice. But more importantly, Naomi is responsible for the most iconic/shocking moment of AS4 – eliminating Manila. She eliminated the queen she grew up watching, and the queen who leant her the moustache. Naomi was so unapologetic about it too - “I sent Manila home because I wanted to”. Just zero f**ks given. And the fan backlash she received was ridiculous. Naomi had the balls to do it and I love her for it. Also lol at Naomi repaying Latrice then throwing Latrice to the wolves later that same episode. And lol at her flirting with a backing dancer. In the competition: There was a perception that Naomi was just “there”. But she gave a fierce performance in “Everybody Say Love”, she was great as Wendy Williams in Snatch Game, and her Sonny & Cher inspired Makeover stood out. She also had two incredible lip syncs, and some of the best runways – the boots, the housewife, the Prince one, and she had my fave finale outfit. But Naomi stumbled towards the end. She played this snobbish host in the Clubs challenge. And she just played Naomi in “Sex and the Kitty” after pushing for the lead role. Her “Super Queen” verse was the shortest too. 4. Gia Gunn Gia was the star of the first 3 episodes. Her energy was so unwelcomed that nobody would've saved her. She was blunt and ruthless: “But her being an old white bitch with a lot of plastic surgery is maybe even more appropriate”. She mostly targeted Farrah and Trinity though. Gia basically called Farrah untalented and just an Instagram queen. She brought up some one-sided outside drama with Farrah. She coaxed Mo into saying that Farrah was the weakest link, then snitched to Farrah. And she interrupted Farrah's 1-on-1 with Monet to apologize. Meanwhile, Gia told Trinity that tucking isn't a talent. She tried to override Trinity in directing the choreo. She fought Trinity to do Cailtyn Jenner in Snatch Game. And she called Trinity bothered and nervous. Gia was accused of playing mind games and bullying, but she acted innocent throughout all this, even in confessional; like she honest intentions. She said that being on Drag Race again brought back her old Season 6 habits. And during deliberation, Gia had this tearful moment with Manila about processing a being trans drag queen. Whatever her intentions were, she brought the entertainment. In the competition: Gia showed off her heritage in the Talent Show, which was completely overlooked. But she was harsh in the Reading mini-challenge. Her flow in “Don't Funk it Up” was not it (she should've been bottom 2 for that). And her Jenny Bui in Snatch Game made me uncomfortable; talking about big dicks and insulting Latrice. And then she underestimated Naomi when picking her for the lip sync. 3. Valentina Valentina dropped the pretenses in AS4, and it made her more enjoyable. She lived in a fantasy where she slayed every challenge (“all of those judges were laughing at my jokes”; “oh girl I was hilarious”). She posed in the Werk Room at the start of every new day. She interrupted others to make speeches about herself. She told Latrice no one wants to send Latrice home... during the episode Latrice went home. She didn't pull her weight in one challenge because her “process is different”. She rejected a deal from Manila, being wise to not trust her. She eliminated Farrah after repairing their relationship. She called Mo's pants disrespectful to Aaliyah. She told Trinity she'd send her home over Latrice. And she refused to beg because it wasn't fierce. But Valentina's emotions finally cracked in her last deliberation. Meanwhile, she still gave meticulous confessionals - “*gasp* my eyebrows”, “luces! cámaras! acción!”, the applause sound effects, making a face at Manila, “Oh my god there's so much going on in my head”, drinking her French Vanilla Fantasy, calling the other clubs “tacky ugly ew” - while using the same confessional look as Season 9. Ultimately, Trinity and Latrice didn't honour their finale pacts with Valentina. In the competition: Valentina served choreo in the Talent Show, and she embraced her weirdness in the other challenges. It worked well in her “Don't Funk it Up” verse, and as the fake Snooki in “Jersey Justice”. I didn't think she was that bad as Eartha Kitt in Snatch Game either. Sure, her jokes didn't land but she was fully in character the whole time. Nor was she the worst in the Roast, but not finishing her make-up was inexcusable. Otherwise, Valentina Ru-deemed herself in the Ariana lip sync. While my fave runways were After Dark and LaLaPaRUza. The sewing one and Plastique did not work for me though. 2. Manila Luzon Manila was the BenDeLaCreme of AS4: the overdog who didn't make it. She also went against the groupthink by suggesting voting strategically. She didn't believe that the “report card” policy was so cut and dry. She ended up selecting Monet's lipstick, and the girls turned on her because of it. After explaining herself, she stood up and the girls just... started at her awkwardly. I get why Trinity called her unpredictable and Valentina called her untrustworthy. But Manila was right – there is no rule book to this. Moreover, Manila defended Gia after Gia's exit, and appreciated Gia when no one else did. On the other hand, her loyalty to Latrice probably got in the way. She was so emotional about Latrice leaving and wanting to make up for AS1. Otherwise, Manila seemed the most chill and natural in confessional? She'd jokingly self-correct (“Naomi and I are topping tonight... not each other”; “...that sounds like she died”) and explain things in a down-to-Earth way. In the competition: Manila was robbed in the Talent Show – she painted that fruit bowl UPSIDE DOWN. In the following week, she had the weakest lyrics, but her After Dark runway was stunning. Then Manila dominated the middle of the season. She was chosen by Keiynan in Snatch Game. Her dog character in “Jersey Justice” was funny. And her reading of the will during the Roast was clever. Plus she played a character in her lip syncs. But her Makeover concept just didn't translate in the final product. Otherwise, I liked her fruit basket runway, the S&M one, and her LaLaPaRUza outfit. I did not like Angelic White. 1. Mo(nique) Heart Mo repeated her catchphrases a lot this season (“America”, “stunning”, “gooped”, “chopped”, etc.) in a brown cow confessional look. But her personality still shined: “I peed all over that damn floor”; “So Latrice is back *long dead silence*”; “booty do”, her wig flying to the rafters, fainting at the Double Shantay, pranking Monet with her lipstick choice, bringing up church plays as her acting experience, and her cartwheel attempts. Plus her facial reactions killed me. Mo had this unaware edit though. SLM commented on her leadership, she was impatient to do 1 on 1s, she half-listened to Cecily Strong, and she asked Ru “can I go now?” Also half the cast got on Mo's damn nerves lol. She straight-up told Farrah that her crying is annoying. Then Farrah was difficult to direct in rehearsal. She called Gia out for bothering Farrah (“Oh my gosh sis that is fake as f**k dot com”). And later said Gia was “annoying and rude and picking on other contestants”. She put Manila last in the Roast to sabotage her. And she had to deal with Latrice calling her reasons disingenuous, and Valentina trashing her Roast. In the competition: Mo showed the most growth. I could've realistically put her top 3 in every challenge. Both of her bottom placements were BS - she sang really well in “Everybody Says Love”, and she was miles ahead of Naomi/Trinity/Valentina in the Roast. Meanwhile, “Brown Cow Stunning” was fierce in the Talent Show. Her Tiffany Haddish in Snatch Game had funny moments. Her “Jersey Justice” character was well-defined (“Objectify!”). Her eyes Makeover was cool. And she was the best in “Sexy and the Kitty”. Sure Mo had the worst finale outfit, but who cares? Aside from the banana outfit, Mo Ru-deemed herself with her runways – After Dark, the exaggerated cow, Puss in Boots. She had the funds this time! She also Ru-deemed herself in the lip syncs, aside from the first one. Favourite entrance look: Manila Luzon's roadkill thing Challenge ranking: 1. "Jersey Justice" (Improv) 2. "Queens of Clubs" 3. "Henny" Girl Groups 4. LaLaPaRUza 5. Talent Show 6. Lady Bunny Roast 7. Snatch Game of Love 8. Best Judy Makeover 9. "Super Queen" Ru-mix (Mo > Monet > Naomi > Trinity) 10. "Sex and The Kitty, Girl 3" (Acting) (....why did they become clowns at the end?) Lip Sync ranking: 1. Gia Gunn vs Naomi Smalls ("Adrenaline") 2. Monét X Change vs Valentina ("Into You") 3. Manila Luzon vs Monique Heart ("The Bitch Is Back") (could've been the double win, but that would've made zero sense with the storyline) 4. Manila Luzon vs Trinity The Tuck ("How Will I Know") 5. Monét X Change vs Naomi Smalls ("Come Rain Or Come Shine") 6. Latrice Royale vs Monique Heart ("Sissy That Walk") (kinda messy?) 7. Monique Heart vs Trinity The Tuck ("Emotions") (Mo's wig mishap was more funny than cringe + the whistle notes were funny) 8. Jasmine Masters vs Trinity The Tuck ("Peanut Butter") 9. Monét X Change vs Trinity The Tuck ("Fighter") 10. Manila Luzon vs Monét X Change ("Jump To It") (the scatting parts are funny but it's low energy... and this was a double win) 11. Monique Heart vs Trinity The Tuck ("When I Think Of You") (forgettable) 12. Farrah Moan vs Valentina ("Kitty Girl") 13. Latrice Royale vs Trinity The Tuck ("You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)") (worst reveal ever) Season ranking so far: 9 > 5 > 6 > AS2 > 4 > 10 > 2 > 7 > AS3 > AS4 > 3 > 8 > 1 > AS1

[whiskeyswriting]

Natural | Chapter 3: Fighter

{ Masterlist }

📝A/N: Song lyrics incorporated will be in bold and blue. Flashbacks will be italicized. Any lines or scenes used from the books and/or movies will be done in green. I do not own the characters of the Divergent series. The credit for that goes to Veronica Roth for creating the series. As such, anything in green or blue are the intellectual property of their respective owners.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

Lost in your own thoughts at the results of the game, you head back towards the train to get back to the compound. Keeping an eye on Eric and Four, you make sure to jump into an empty train car to read your intel.

Unwrapping the small bundle, you remove the blank piece of paper and discreetly hold it up to the light. You’re able to see small indentations but not markings are showing up. You then remember you still had a few rounds of the paintballs in your pocket.

You break one open and smear the paint over the paper. Slowly the markings start appearing.

“|0N9-R4N93 +R4N$M1$$10N $3RUM. PR0C33D \/\/1+H C4R3. +H3 0+H3R $0URC3 \/\/1|| $00N B3 R3V34|3D”

‘Why did it have to be in leet? It gives me a headache,’ you think as you start to decode the message. It was easy for you to do so. Perhaps a bit too easy.

While time was of the essence, you knew this was not a challenge for you. Then again you had limited resources to try and decode any intel in Morse or binary code.

As the message, became more and more clear , you kept repeating it to memorize it. ‘Long-range transmission serum. Proceed with care. The other source will soon be revealed.’

Before jumping off the train, you made sure to destroy the paper and vial so no evidence could be found on you.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

After dinner, you decided to train some more. The final fight will be in the coming weeks so you still have to keep up your skills and not slack.

You’re at the training room and punching at the bag when a shadow falls over you. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. His scent is already engrained into your memory since the day you rode in his car.

“What are you doing up initiate?” Eric asks from behind you.

You can’t help yourself when you respond “Oh you know… Just some cooking and cleaning….”

He grunts in annoyance at your response.

“Obviously I’m training. Just because I’m in the top three spots doesn’t mean I will be getting complacent with training,” you clarify.

"Well off you go. You should be sleeping... Like the other initiates. You don't get to make your schedule."

You sigh in annoyance. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You are. You come here thinking you know everything. Thinking you're better than everyone else..."

You don't let him get to you as you tune out his complaining and you get to working on your fighting. That just pissed him off.

Eric moves quick and takes down the bag and starts fighting with you. "How about training one-on-one? Huh? Maybe that'll scare you off to actually listen." He goes to deliver a punch but you quickly evade him. Your eyes quickly study his fighting stance and learn his moves.

What you don't notice is that he had already been studying you and your fighting. He sweeps his leg under yours, causing you to trip and fall. The fall is so sudden that your chin hits the ground first.

You are quick to get back up before he can attack again.

“I see you learned to get up faster,” he says.

“A dauntless may fall but they never stay down,” you reply immediately, the words from your own training back in Erudite coming back.

“What did you say?” Eric says as he sweeps your legs with his and pins you against the ground in less than a blink.

His hands pin your above your head, his face close to yours. So close you could swear he’s about to kiss you.

Except he only whispers in your ear. “You’re the other one, aren’t you? The other spy?”

You keep your face neutral, already having prepared for this moment. You steady your breathing to calm your heart rate.

“I can feel you heart slowing down. Oh you’re good initiate… Here I thought there was no way an initiate could be the spy…”

You swallow gently, trying to keep your composure.

“Oh don’t worry initiate. I’ve seen the hidden tattoo on your ribcage. In invisible ink,” his fingers trace over your shirt by where the tattoo is. He remains on top of you but lets go of your hands so he can lift his shirt.

Your eyes roam over all the black ink until they fall over a small are that’s raised. The same area as your own invisible tattoo.

Before you can ask him to confirm if it means what you think it means, voices are heard just around the corner. Eric quickly helps you up and pushes you against the wall and covers your body with his.

The voices stop when the group sees Eric. They can see he’s with a female but they can’t make out who it is. The group continues to walk after smirking at Eric.

You can hear the group already moved away but Eric still is standing close to you. Not that you’ll complain. It’s not until your hands are on him that he reacts.

Instead of pulling away, he’s pressing his lips to yours and pulling you in even closer. “I always knew there was something about you,” he says as he continues to kiss you.

〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪〽️🖤🔪

Tag List: @taina-eny @ghostedgrim @l0nelygamer

[incorrectgallaghergirlsquotes]

If you're down to talk Midnights and Gallagher Girls, I'm just curious on your pairings/characters you chose, and I have brain rot of this series and album now.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on why Cammie and Zach for Anti-Hero. I totally agree honestly they all relate to the song, but I went straight for Abby relating to it the most.

Snow on the Beach: I immediately thought of Preston/Macey and I'm just curious what made you think of Joe/Rachel and Bex/Liz. Like specific lines or just the vibe of the song?

Vigilante Shit: I went for Catherine, but I'm curious again about the four you chose. Like is this the four of them conspiring together and backing each other up, is it them individually? It reminds me so much of No Body, No Crime and your fic that's a part of the Spotify Wrapped.

The way we're becoming besties lol

Anti-hero: Now none of the characters are actually anti-heroes, they're all heroes pretty much. But who cares?

The first line that hit me over the head that made me give this to Cammie was "I should not be left to my own devices". I think we all know why lmao. By extension, I don't think Zach should be left to his own devices either Mr. Running-Away-Was-My-Idea-She-Just-Did-It-Without-Me. We've all also agreed Cammie has nightmares well into adulthood so the "I wake up screaming from dreaming". Then the way it goes on reminded me of how she felt like her friends and school all turned their backs on her in book 5 "One day I'll watch as you're leaving/cause you got tired of my scheming (for the last time)/It's me, hi/I'm the problem it's me" and the rest of the chorus. I can see the same lives fitting Zach's character as well just in a slightly different way. And then everyone, they've been through a lot.

I can totally see Abby though especially in the second verse and the following pre-chorus. We see her come into book 3 with this fun, young personality and then by the end she's been hardened. The next times we see her she's got more an all business sense about her. Which is devastating considering she either managed to retain that personality or bounce back after Matt and now it's gone (maybe again). And here are these girls with her niece and they're the new young, hopeful, excited spies.

And then "Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism/like some kind of congressman?" is SO Macey coded

Snow on the Beach: So for Joe/Rachel and Bex/Liz I focused on the lines that reflected longing for someone. Both couples spent a long time as friends kind of dancing around their feelings- so yes! Macey and Preston too, I completely agree! I go back and forth on if I see this from Joe or Rachel's perspective, I think it could go either way, and the same with Bex and Liz. I think the only thing keeping me from going full in on Macey and Preston is I see the two of them as will-they-won't-they and Joe/Rachel, Bex/Liz as mutual pining and that's the vibe I get from the song. I keep going to pull specific lines but I just end up wanting to paste the whole song!

Overall it's really cute. It paints a really sweet scene to imagine with any of the ships

Vigilante Shit: For my list I mostly tried to think about which characters would listen to the song and like the vibe/lyrics so I picked those four but I can DEFINITELY see Catherine. I guess I blocked her out because she's more villain that vigilante but that's my nitpicking lol

My thoughts overall have evolved a little since I made this list but I had to get it out of my head otherwise I wasn't going to post anything this week because it's just this. And I'm absolutely down to talk about it more if anyone else wants to!

[goldensstateofgrace]

- Love Along The Way-   Chapter I

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Asks/ Lmk what you thought | 

Series Summary:  Reader joins the band in writing songs for their third album (Youngblood) and love finds her along the way. 

Chapter Summary: Y/n is working in the studio when Calum walks in on her writing ‘Babylon’ and it goes from there. 

A/N:  SURPRISE BESTIES!!! IT’S HERE!! AHH i’m so happy with this chapter!! I hope you all love this series as much as i love writing it!! All I am asking is that you give me your patience between chapters because i am a slow writer and i’ve been going through a hard time mentally. 

Warnings: talk of cheating, mom reader, heartbreak, cancer ( not in detail), lmk if i missed anything! 

Word count: 6k

I hope you guys enjoy!! I worked very hard on this and I’m super proud of it!! 

Happy reading!! - G

You’d had these lyrics stuck in your head, replaying on a loop for a while now, but hadn’t had any time to actually get them down on paper. 

You weren’t going to lie, this last year has been a clusterfuck.  From Easton breaking up with you,  basically telling you he found someone else and that he wants nothing to do with you or Elijah, to not being able to write because you’ve been transitioning Elijah into preschool (he was not having it.) It was safe to say it had been a very rough year for you. 

When you did sit down and try to write, nothing would come to mind. All of your anger and heartbreak were there and ready to be used to make beautiful music others could relate to, but you just couldn’t come up with anything. Well, besides those lyrics, it was a longshot trying to come up with anything for that either. 

Maybe it was still too fresh, and maybe you were still heartbroken, but you just needed to do something besides sit in bed wallowing in your self pity. 

Of course, Elijah didn’t know what was happening. He just knew ‘daddy’ left and that he hasn’t been back. You didn’t have the guts or the courage to break his heart by telling him ‘daddy’ wasn’t coming back. He was three, he wouldn’t understand, but it also broke your heart all over again when he asked in his tiny curious voice ‘da-ddy?’ 

What were you supposed to say, “I'm sorry baby, but ‘daddy’ doesn’t love us anymore and he’s not coming back?” No, you weren’t going to do that to him. 

But as you sit there on the dark studio couch, the lyrics on the tip of your tongue, it's like you can’t get anything out. You have them right there in front of you, your black bass guitar sitting in your lap as you strum the bass line softly and hum along until you finally try and sing out the lyrics. 

“We said we’d both love harder than we knew we could go,” you sang softly into the empty room, thinking back to nights when you laid next to Easton, talking about how much you loved each other and how neither of you would ever stop because you loved each other more and more everyday. 

“But still knowing when to let go- no” you shake your head, not liking how that sounded.  “But still the hardest part is knowing when to let go” nodding, you scratch out your previous lyrics and replace them before you go back to picking at the cords, finding where you left off. 

You were so focused on the lyrics, mumbling to yourself and scratching out lyrics and replacing them you didn’t hear the studio door open. 

You were struggling on a particular verse, mumbling to yourself as you read off the lyrics written in what looks like chicken scratch in the notebook layed out in front of you. 

“You wanted to go higher, higher, higher, we-” but you stopped, stumped on what should come next. You sing what you already have out, trying to come up with anything but fall back into the couch cushions groaning when you don’t. 

“We burn too bright, now the fire’s gone, watch it all fall down” a voice sings out, startling you, and you let out a gasp. Looking up at the tall curly headed man standing at the door, your brows furrow. You were supposed to have this studio for two hours. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, and a ‘The tonight show, Starring Jimmy Fallon’ gray shirt. A pair of Vans covered his feet and tattoos covered his arms. 

“Just thought I'd suggest something that came to mind,” the accented man voices, walking down the small step from the door and down where you are. You watch as he takes a seat on the small black loveseat against the wall across from yours. 

You close your eyes and sing the words in your head, strumming the bass as you do. “Thanks, that’s actually really helpful,” you tell him, writing it down. “How long were you standing there?” you ask him, looking over his dark curly hair and down to his brown eyes that look over you just as you are him. 

“Just a minute or two. Didn’t expect anyone to be in here, the band is supposed to have booked it for a few hours today.” 

You look down at your watch hearing his words and gasp at the time.You were almost twenty minutes late to pick up Elijah from preschool. 

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time” you tell him, quickly placing the bass back on its stand in the corner next to the couch and packing your notebook and music sheets in your bag. 

“It’s ok, happens to the best of us,” his deep accented voice carries towards you as you see him shrug his shoulder out of the corner of your eye. “I’m Calum by the way,” he introduces himself, holding out his hands as you move to walk past him. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n and also very late to -” you hesitate, not wanting to tell a stranger you just met about your son. “ To a dinner” you finish, shaking his hand before walking around him and to the door. 

Your hand is on the handle and pulling it open, before you hesitate, awkwardly turning over your shoulder to say, “It was nice to meet you, thank you for the lyrics,” you smile at him. 

He nods, sending you a friendly smile. “Any time”. 

You watch his eyes roam over you before you wave and head out, a smirk playing on your lips. 

Quickly, you make it to your car, driving 10 over the speed limit and making it to the preschool near your house in record time. You run up the sidewalk, signing Elijah out at the front desk before making your way down the hall to his classroom. 

He’s playing blocks with two other kids who happen to be siblings, Avery and Jase, not even paying you any mind, too engrossed in building a tall tower just for it to fall down landing all over the play mat. 

“Elijah, mommy’s here,” his teacher, Miss. Rachel, calls him when she sees you in the doorway. You watch as his head quickly turns your way, a bright smile spreading across his chubby cheeks. 

“Mommy!” he squeals, standing to his feet and running to you. His small arms wrap around your thighs, his cheeks squished as he looks up at you with his bright smile. 

“Hi baby! Did you have fun today?” You smile, squatting down to his level and squeezing him to your chest as you place kisses all over his face. 

He nods against you, pulling back as he tells you all about how he painted you a picture but that you had to wait to see it because it had to dry overnight. 

“I can’t wait to see it, baby! We’ll have to hang it on the fridge” you tell him as you grab his bag off the hook, telling him to go help clean up the blocks and a few cars that were laying out when you see that the parents of Avery and Jase are also here. 

When he’s all done you pick him up, placing him on your hip as you walk out to the car, his head resting on your shoulder as his eyes fall heavy. You know he’ll fall asleep the minute you start driving. 

You load him into his car seat and buckle him in before heading down the street, taking a few left turns and passing tall, two story gated houses before you pull into your own gated driveway. You bought this house with Easton, but only you signed the mortgage, so it was easy for him to move out. No need to sign paperwork or go to court. You’re so thankful for that. 

You wanted a safe neighborhood for Elijah to grow up in, and this is it. You moved in when he was a newborn, you did have to sign an NDA because some celebrity lived in one of the houses across from you, but you'd never seen them so you didn’t know who it was.

As you expected, when you went to grab Elijah out of his car seat he was out like a light, his mouth open as he rested the side of his tanned forehead on the side of the padded car seat. 

Smiling softly at his sleeping form, you gently unbuckled him and rested him on your chest as you walked into your house and to the couch. You had a net that attached to one end of your couch that stopped about mid center of the cushions to stop him from rolling off. He doesn’t roll around in his sleep often, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. You place him behind it and lay his favorite blanket over him before you walk into the kitchen to start on dinner. 

--------

It’s been a week since you ran late in the studio and Calum walked in on you. For some odd reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You had barely even talked to the guy but yet he was stuck in your head. His lyrics were stuck, replaying in your mind. He had only stood there for a minute or two, but yet the lyrics he sang went so well with yours. 

You were back in the same studio today, placing the finishing touches on the lyrics before you recorded the demo for it and eventually sold it to an artist or band to make their own. 

You look up, your brows furrowing when you hear loud laughter out in the hall, but you brush it off and finish setting up your computer on the panel so you could record the demo when you were done with the lyrics. 

Standing, you make your way into the booth, setting up a stool and pulling the bass guitar and it’s stand into the booth as well. You didn’t hear the door open, or the four laughing men walk into the room until you go to step back into the studio where the panel is. 

Your brows furrow when your eyes meet Calum’s brown ones, his face showing shock before it turns into a bright smile as his cheeks scrunch up. It reminds you of Elijah’s. You know you weren’t late to pick him up or running over your studio time because you booked the studio until lunch; it was only 10:30am. 

“We really gotta stop meeting like this,” Calum jokes with you, his bright smile making something flutter in you. 

“But this time it’s not my fault,” you tell him, smiling and looking at the three other very tall men standing behind him. 

The tall blonde with blue eyes and curly hair that ends at his ears smiles at you, showing off his dimples, “I’m Luke, it’s nice to meet you.” he introduces. 

You smile politely. “It’s nice to meet you too, I'm Y/n.” 

“Oh we know,” the red head chuckles. His hair is clearly dyed, but it suits him. His smile is bright and contagious. “Cal over here couldn’t stop talking about you and how amazing of a songwriter you are. I’m Ashton,” he tells you, holding out his hand for you to shake. 

You quirked an eyebrow up in Calum’s direction. “Is that so,” you tease, watching as his cheeks tint a shade of pink while you shake Ashton’s hand. 

“Oh yeah,” the shorter blonde one speaks up. “He even looked you up, wanted to know if you were selling that song you were working on. I’m Michael, but you can call me Mikey.” 

“Well you’re in luck, I was just about to record the demo for it. But if you’re interested you can have a look at the finished lyrics,” you tell them, pulling out the pages of printed lyrics from your bag.

They all nod, sitting down on the couches. You hand Calum the papers, smiling down at him before you take a seat at the panel, watching as they all huddle around Calum to read the lyrics. 

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s’ and ‘fuck that’s good’ sound as they finally put the paper down and stare at you. 

“So, you like it?” you ask. 

“Do we like it?” Ashton asks incredulously, looking at the boys and shaking his head in a way that says he can’t believe you asked that. 

“Yeah, y/n. We like it.” Calum tells you. “We're working on our third album right now and I think it would be great to add it to the album,” he says, looking at the other guys as they nod along in agreement. 

“That’s great, we can sign all of the paperwork soon.” you say, excited you don’t have to record the demo now. It’s always the hardest part. “I wrote a bit of a bass line, but nothing else so do whatever with it.” 

“We actually have something to ask you,” Ashton says, nudging Cal in the arm. Cal glares at him with a look like ‘knock it off’. 

“We were talking after I played some of the other songs you’ve written.You’re an amazing songwriter and we wanted to know if you wanted to help us write our album?” he asks, a bit shyly you notice. 

You’ve never written with someone or a band, not because you didn’t want to, you’ve just never had the opportunity. The only reason you would even consider turning this down was Elijah; you couldn’t take this opportunity if it was going to keep you from him. 

You weren’t really keen on telling people you barely knew about your son, but if you wanted to work with them and still have enough time for Elijah they needed to know. 

“Look,” you sigh, watching their shoulders deflate a bit and their hopeful expressions drop a tad. “I would love to, but you need to know I have a 3 year old  son, and I can’t have this taking me away from him. I promised myself when I got pregnant that I would always choose him over anything. Even if it is my dream. So,” you prompt, “if we can work around me having time with him then I’m in.”  

They all assure you that they’d help you make time for him. Ashton really hit home with you when he tells you, “I totally understand you wanting to make time for him, I grew up with only my mom and my two little siblings. We’ll make sure you get time with him.” he smiles softly at you, a knowing but sad look in his eyes. 

You smiled at him softly, thanking him and the guys, “I grew up with only my mom too. It was hard, but she was the best mother and role model. She was the strongest woman I know.” 

“Was?” Calum asked softly. Looking at you with gentle but curious eyes. 

You nod, smiling sadly. “She passed away a year and a half after Elijah was born. Breast cancer. It was really hard.” The memories come rushing back, and tears well up in your eyes, but you push them down, not wanting to cry. 

You all talked for a while, working out when you were available and what times it would be good to meet at the studio. It was when you were all packing up that Ashton proposed a chill night. “We should all hang out and have a night where we get to know each other better, drink and just talk.” 

There was a chorus of agreements, but when you hadn’t said anything they all stared at you waiting for your answer. 

“That actually sounds like fun, I'll be there. Just let me know a time and place,” you tell them smiling. You haven’t had a night to yourself since before Easton left, so you were long overdue. 

Calum offered to host it at his house, before you all exchanged numbers and left for the day. You planned on picking up Elijah early and taking him out for ice cream. It was his favorite treat and it was pretty hot today, so you decided it was a good day to indulge. 

You were just pulling up outside of the preschool when your phone vibrated in the cup holder next to you. Pulling it out, you see the message notification reading ‘Calum Hood’ swiping it and unlocking your phone the text pulls up.  

That should work for you, Elijah has been going to sleep around that time and you should be able to get Jessie to come over and watch him for a few hours while you’re over there. His address sticks out to you, not because you thought you’ve heard of it before but because it was basically your address just a few numbers off. 

Maybe he’s why you had to sign the NDA. He most likely has had fans coming to his home and waiting around to even get a glimpse of him in the past and didn’t want this address to get out to the public. 

Quickly sending him back a text, you put your phone back in the cupholder and go in to grab Elijah. 

------

The next day you were up and finishing off the last ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for a late breakfast. You were surprised Elijah stayed asleep past 8am, it was currently almost 11am and you were just about to go check on him and tell him breakfast was ready when he came padding around the corner rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. 

“Well good morning little man,” you smile down at him, placing blueberries on his ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for eyes, chocolate chips for the mouth and a blackberry as the nose all adhered with whipped cream. Elijah was allergic to strawberries, or otherwise you would have added those in somehow. 

You woke to a message from Calum, replying to your message from last night. It was only sent about forty minutes before you woke up, but you didn’t see it until you were in the middle of making breakfast. 

You typed out a reply with one hand while flipping a normal round pancake for you and sending it. 

 You couldn’t figure out why you were smiling. He was a very attractive man, nothing like the guys you’ve dated in the past. Maybe that’s why you’re attracted to him. He’s not like the other guys who have treated you badly in the past; he’s nice and caring and didn’t run the second you mentioned you had a son. 

When you and the guys had been talking yesterday in the studio he asked to see a photo of Elijah. He told you how adorable he was, and how he looked just like you. Calum seems to be such a genuine and down to earth guy and if you weren’t careful you would fall for him. And hard. 

Carefully, you cut Elijah’s pancake up in little bites for him to eat, and pour a small amount of syrup over his and yours. 

You watch as he uses his green plastic fork. He has his mouth wide open the whole time as he carefully brings it up to his mouth. 

You cheer and kiss his cheek happily when he looks up at you excited when he got it in his mouth without dropping it. 

“Look at you! You don’t even need mommy anymore, you're such a big boy!” you smile down at him, taking a bite of your own pancake. He laughs his small contagious laugh, picking up another piece of pancake. 

“Baby, I need to talk to you about something” you say to him, making him look up at you with his wide brown eyes, his fork just at the entrance of his mouth. 

“T-trouble?” he asks you over his chewing, still looking up at you. 

“No, baby,” you chuckle, wiping the corner of his mouth where there was a bit of syrup threatening to drip down on his pj’s. “You’re not in trouble.” 

“But I have a big job.’ you tell him, “ A band asked me to help them write music for their album, so it might not always be me picking you up from daycare, it might be Miss. Jessie sometimes, is that ok?” 

He nods excitedly. “Yeah! Mi-miss Jessie is nice to m-me!” he stutters a bit as he gets excited. 

“Okay, also, i have a friend and he invited us over to swim! Do you want to go swimming?” you ask him as you sip the last of your coffee before eating the last bit of your pancakes. 

“Yeah!” he shouts. He’s been taking swimming lessons since he was two, he knows what to do if he falls into the pool. He loves the water too, he's a little fish when it comes to the water. 

You both finish eating and while you rinse off the dishes and place them in the dishwasher Elijah runs into his room screaming excitedly about going swimming. You laugh, shaking your head at his antics before following after him when you’re done loading the dishwasher. 

You change his diaper into one of those swimming ones with cars on it, before pulling a pair of yellow swim shorts over the diaper.  When you have him changed, you pack his diaper bag with a change of clothes, an extra swim and regular diaper along with sunscreen and his yellow bucket hat. 

You double check you have everything before you put his sandals on and bring him into your room so you can change into your blue bikini. It had high rise bottoms and the cups actually covered all of your breasts. You throw on a white cover up before sliding your own sandals on and heading out. 

Since his house is literally one house down from yours and across the street, you decide to just walk over. 

The sun was beating down on you as you walked out of the front door and locked it behind you. You text Calum that you’re on your way over before putting your phone in the diaper bag and heading down your driveway. 

It only takes you a minute to walk down the sidewalk and cross the street to his house. Checking your phone to see if he messaged you back when you’re outside the black gate, he did, telling you the gate was open and just to come in. 

You push open the gate, closing it behind you once you’re on the other side. There’s a black range rover parked in front of the open garage where you heard what sounded like an air pump. 

Walking towards the garage and around the black SUV, you see Calum’s familiar dark curls  as he kneels on the concrete blowing up a small turtle pool floaty. 

“Hey,” you greet Calum as you place Elijah down on his feet and squat behind him, pulling up his yellow shorts from where they fell down on the walk over. 

Looking up, you’re greeted with that bright white smile you’ve seen a few times at the studio but never fails to warm your heart. 

“Hey, I'm glad you guys could come!” Calum greets you, plugging the hole on the floaty before he turns off the air pump. He stands up just to walk a few steps in front of you and kneel down to Elijah’s level. “It’s nice to meet you Elijah, I’m Calum,”  he introduces himself sweetly as he smiles down at your son. 

Elijah giggles, turning into you as hiding his face on your leg. “Don’t be shy, baby,” you chuckle, running your hand over the back of his dark hair. You smile up at Calum, his face showing nothing but happiness and  eyes  lit up with pure adoration. 

“Can you say hi? Say, ‘Hi Calum’” you whispered in Elijah's ear, chuckling when  he shook his head and held on tighter to you. 

 “The tickle monster is gonna get you,” you sing out, your hands unwinding from him and to his sides where you tickle him. Elijah lets out his high pitched laughter, giggling at  you to stop as he tries to squirm out of your hold. 

“Hi!” he squeals loudly and you stop tickling him. Elijah turns around to face Calum, smiling up at him as he says, “Hi, Ca- calum.” 

“Hi, buddy. Are you ready to go swimming?” 

Elijah shouts out a ‘Yes!’ throwing his hands in the air and singing the song he was singing this morning about going swimming. 

“Sw-imming swimm-ing i going swimming” he shouts, causing you and Cal to break out in laughter. 

----- 

Calum was amazing. 

He was so sweet and caring with Elijah. Playing the same game over and over for almost an hour just to hear Elijah’s loud laughter. 

Catching your three year old over and over when he learned it was okay to jump into the pool and dunking him when he caught him just to throw him a few feet away in the water. 

Elijah’s loud laugher reverberated around the backyard and the trees that were planted against the walls encasing the closed off area. You felt pure joy at hearing his laughter. You knew he was feeling down with everything that’s happened with Easton, and hearing his laughter reminded you just what you have to live for, what’s waiting for you on good days and bad. 

Elijah is your whole world, your little sunshine, and you couldn’t imagine life without him. 

Looking over at the pool where Elijah and Calum were splashing each other, big contagious smiles spread across their faces and laughter flowing from their chests, you can’t help but smile. Watching them warms your heart. 

You were sitting on a couch in the shade next to the pool, Duke in your lap sleeping peacefully until Ashton’s loud voice invaded the bubble you all had been wrapped up in for the last four hours. 

“Hey, why wasn’t I invited?” he fake pouts as he stands in the doorway of the sliding glass doors. His hands rest on his hips as his eyes flicker around to all of you. 

“Thought you were with Kaykay,” Calum calls over to him, shrugging as he holds Elijah to his chest. That makes your heart flutter, seeing how tightly he holds him and how Elijah wraps his arms around Calums neck, a huge smile playing on his face. 

“Again,” Elijah giggled out. 

“Again? Ok,” Calum chuckled, throwing Elijah up in the air, his contagious laughter ringing out before he fell into the water below. You watch as Elijah swims to the surface,wiping his face of water and calling out ‘Again!’

Time flew by, because the last time you checked your phone was when you all sat down to have a bit of lunch around two, and it was now almost four thirty. 

Ashton made his way over to the long outdoor couch you were sitting on and took a seat in the spot next to you. 

“Is that Elijah?” he asks you softly, his eyes trained on Calum and Elijah who were spinning in the water before Calum launched your son in the air again as he let out a squeal of happiness. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “That’s E. He’s a handful.” 

Ashton smiles, letting out a deep chuckle, “I bet. He’s adorable, he looks just like you,” he tells you. 

“Thank you. When he was a baby he looked so much like my mom it was crazy.” you smile softly to yourself, remembering when you found old pictures of your mom and put one side by side with one of Elijah’s. They were practically identical. 

You were brought out of your thoughts when a small wet body climbed up in your lap and laid his head on your shoulder tiredly. “Are you tired, E?” you ask him softly, moving his wet hair - he needs a haircut - off his forehead before placing a light kiss upon it. 

He nods tiredly against you, his small hand lazily stroking the top of Duke’s head. The dog  had moved to  cuddle into the side of your thigh when Ashton sat down. 

Calum appeared in front of you, a towel wrapped around his hips as he smiled down at you softly, holding out a towel for you. “Thank you,” you tell him, taking the towel and wrapping it around Elijah to try and keep him warm and dry him off. 

“Should we just call Luke and Mikey and tell them to come over now? Since we're already here?” Ashton asks as Calum sits on the ‘L’ part of the couch next to your legs. “Did you drive here?” he asks you, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t see your car out there when I pulled in.” 

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I live across the street.” 

Ashtons eyebrows raise in surprise before he lets out a chuckle, “wow, small world.” 

You nod, “if you guys want to call Luke and Mikey that’s okay with me, but the babysitter I have  for E can’t come until 7, she has a family thing.” you tell them, looking down at the small boy in your arms who has fallen asleep against your shoulder. 

“That’s fine. If you want you can go lay him down in my bed? So he can take a nap until your babysitter gets to your house,” Calum tells you softly. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “That would be good.” you tell him, smiling up at him gently. 

You all head inside, Elijah on your hip sleeping soundly against your shoulder as Calum leads you down the hall just off the kitchen and to the last door on the right. It was nothing like you’d picture his room to be. 

The  walls are white, and there’s a tv hanging on the gray accent wall in front of the bed. The bed is made with the white fluffy comforter folded where it meets the firm, white pillows at the top of the bed. The floor is clear, save a few cords to the tall lamp in the corner of the room and a charger. 

“Bathroom’s through there,” he tells you pointing to the open door next to the tv. 

“Thank you, Cal,” you tell him sincerely. Thankful for him offering to let E nap in his room. 

“Yeah, of course y/n. Make yourself at home,” he smiles before leaving you and walking back to the living room. 

You unwrap the towel from around Elijah, laying it out on the bed before placing your sleeping boy down gently. You change him into his regular diaper, causing him to whine and thrash around before you change him into a pair of navy blue cotton shorts and  a plain white shirt . He quiets down, falling back to sleep as you move him up to the pillows, forming a sort of wall around him with a pillow on both sides of his body before you gently place a kiss to his forehead. 

Picking up the diaper bag you walk into the bathroom, which is just as clean as the bedroom, to change yourself. 

You untie your bikini top and reach into the bag, only to find a swim diaper and the sunblock. You swore quietly, thinking back to when you packed the bag and realizing you didn’t pack a pair of extra clothes for yourself. 

Quickly you put your top and your white cover up back on, swearing at yourself in your head for forgetting clothes before walking out of the bathroom quietly so you didn’t wake Elijah up. 

You padded down the hallway and into the kitchen where Cal was sitting at the counter as Ashton rummaged through the fridge talking about a song he started writing. 

Calum looks up when you appear in the kitchen doorway, his eyes flickering over your body as his brows furrow, “You didn’t change?” he points out more than asks. 

You nod, biting your lip as your cheeks blush. “Uh, yeah. I forgot to pack any clothes for myself,” you tell him, smiling shyly, “But i’m ok in this,” you assure him. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, concerned. “I can watch Elijah while you go home to change-” he pauses, “or actually I think Mali might have left some clothes behind when she was here last.” he tells you, hopping off his stool and walking down the hall again. 

Mali? Is that his girlfriend? 

Your stomach fills with dread. Just when you thought you finally met someone that didn’t run at the mention of your son, he probably has a girlfriend. Just look at him, of course he has a girlfriend. 

“She’s always buying way too many new clothes while she’s here, she can’t fit them all back into her suitcase when she needs to leave,” he tells you chuckling as he holds out a pair of grey sweat pants and a green hoodie. 

You hesitate a second, not really wanting to wear his girlfriend's clothes. But the chill in his house is causing goosebumps to appear on your arms. “Thank you,” you say, taking them from his hands and walking back down the hall to change rooms and check on Elijah. 

----- 

“No,” Luke sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you nod, your mood a stark difference from what it was an hour ago. “He came home one day and said ‘I found someone else, I don’t love you and I'm leaving’ he didn’t even mention Elijah. Just packed up all of his shit while I sat on the couch crying trying to wrap my head around what was happening.” 

“From the moment I found out I was pregnant it felt like he was on a different planet. We didn’t match anymore, we didn’t have that spark. If I'm being honest with myself that spark died out a long time ago, I just didn’t want to admit it. He was obviously not excited about the pregnancy- and I wasn't either at first, but when I heard E’s heartbeat for the first time-” you pause, “I can’t even describe it. It was like all my motherly instincts clicked in and I loved him more than I could ever have imagined,” you sigh, smiling at the memory of  the day you heard Elijah’s heartbeat. 

“I kept telling myself that Easton would come around once Elijah got here. It never really happened though. We were both in our twenties, he wanted to party, and drink and just have fun, and he did, and I stayed home with a screaming newborn while he was out living it up.” shrugging you looked up at all of them, smiling softly. 

When you came out from changing into the clothes Calum lent you, all the guys were in the kitchen talking. Luke brought Chinese and you all just sat around talking for hours. You learned a lot of eye opening things. Elijah went home about an hour after they all got there, Jessie coming over to grab him before going back over to your house.  

They formed their band when they were still in highschool, which was crazy to you. How they were still friends amazed you; you had lost contact with all your highschool friends when you moved to LA. 

Ashton was the oldest out of all of them. Mikey told the story of how he messaged Ashton on facebook messaged Ashton asking if he wanted to join the band. You laughed so hard at how the story was told, it was like one of those boards with all the strings connecting different things that all come to one big conclusion. They were all over the place. 

Then it was Mikey and Calum in the middle and Luke was the baby. They were all amazing, genuine guys and you couldn’t have been happier to call them your friends. 

You somehow had gotten on the topic of siblings at one point. Mikey doesn’t have any, but he was chessy when he said, “yeah but I have these guys as my brothers,” all the guys ahh’d and called him out on being cheesy but you could tell they were family. 

Ashton talked more about his sister and brother, telling you about how his dad walked out on him and then his mom met his stepdad and they had Lauren and Harry before he eventually walked out too. Your heart hurt for him, because you knew just how that felt. 

Luke has two brothers, Jack and Ben. You smiled and laughed as he told stories of his childhood and how he and all the guys got up too. 

You told them all about your brother, Jaxon. How he was back home in Nashville playing baseball and how he dreamed of going pro.  

Calum talked about his sister, how she visits every once and a while when she’s not in the studio or writing her own music. 

“Yeah, Mali lives in London so I don’t get to see her much. We talk at least twice a week just to catch up. She’s supposed to visit in a few months so you’ll get to meet her soon,” he smiles over at you. 

Mali is his sister? Well, that makes a whole lot of sense. 

“That’s great, I can’t wait to meet her!” you tell him, smiling over at him happily. 

You all talked for another hour or so, laughing and telling stories before you decided it was time to go. You said bye to everyone, hugging them and telling them you’d see them on friday when you and Alec met them at the studio after lunch. 

Calum politely walked you home just to be safe. 

“I had a great day, thank you for inviting us over. I know Elijah had a blast,” you tell him, smiling softly up at him. “You were so great with him, he’s normally pretty shy around new people.” 

“I did too, we’ll have to do it again.” he tells you. “He’s a great kid, he’s so adorable,” he tells you, smiling. 

“Definitely,” you nod up at him.

There was that awkward silence where you both just looked at each other, your eyes flicking between his as his eyes flicked over your face and fell to your plump lips. Your breath hitched as his eyes linger there before returning to your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispers, pulling you into a tight hug.

You relax in his arms, hugging him back as your face hides in his neck. “Goodnight, Cal” you whisper back lingering in the hug before he kisses the top of your head and lets go. 

“I’ll see you Friday,” he calls, descending the three steps of your  porch. 

“See you friday!” you call back before walking into your house. Your back pressing to the back of your front door as you let out a sigh, closing your eyes. 

“Oh my god! That was Calum Hood!,” you hear excitedly from your couch making your eyes pop wide open.

---

Taglist (striked out couldn’t be tagged - get added here -) @wontlastimokwiththat @doctcr-reid @harrystylesandharrypotter @vividstyles23 @thesadstoryofme @hufflepuffhaze @kuolonsyoja​ @lonelyheart5​ @kyleeisahotmess @wiiildflowerrr 

[foxgloveinspace]

You asked for my notes, but I bet you didn’t think they’d be so long itd be under a readmore! (Or… it me and maybe you did expect that LMAO).

Foxglove’s VAXIS II notes:

1.both times I’ve listened to the opening song now I got shudders up and down my spine and legs. Very nice.

2.no notes, just vibes, really liked this one.

3.(I forgot to take notes from song three and song four oops. I was enjoying the listening too much to take notes)

-I thought with all the info I could find that i would be very lost when listening, cause even the wiki said it was vague, but I’m surprised to find that the music (especially since I can read the lyrics) is painting a very vivid picture of a small family on the run. But since this is a prequel, and I don’t know the rest for sure, I have a bad feeling that something will happen to the parents perhaps.

5.very story heavy (they all are but this one more so), is this like, awakening to powers? I’m assuming this kid has powers tbh. Gonna go with that.

-Cass, have you ever listened to STARSET?? I think you’d like them.

6.there’s a lot of tension between these two huh. Does one of them not believe that their son is a kid of prophecy perhaps? And this is their aftermath of his powers awakening maybe?

7.still just like, what I see happening I guess I’m not sure if I’m getting any of this right; so this is also the aftermath of song 5? The kids powers like, awoke, and then this is one of the parents pov after? The one who like, ‘knew’ the whole time that he was special. So they were better prepared for it. But I’m not sure whose pov it is oof.

-hmmmm. This is why I like listening to things in order LMAO. I’m greatly enjoying this despite not really knowing much. But maybe it’s better this way, cause I’ll get super invested in the story now😌.

8.hmmm, so they had a disagreement about the above? And now are trying to make it work by avoiding their disagreement?? Or perhaps keep lying about their kid and saying he’s not special?? Anyway I like this song a lot actually, outside of context too.

9.(oh this one started really cool!) ok I really like this song too, I guess this is supposed to be him trying to reassure her that he still loves her and will be what she needs him to be no matter what, or is it a reminder of who he is?? Either way, really like this song.

10.this song hurt me. It hurts.

11.they where trying to get somewhere but they where too late? Trying to get back to their home before something happened, and it happened before they could get there. Trying to fight destiny and losing?

12.I’m crying. This has hurt the Foxglove beyond repair.

13.bard vibes. (Oh his Name is Vaxis ok, that makes since). I’m not gonna go back and change my notes, but I’m guessing before it wasn’t awaking his powers but like… he was truly coherent for the first time or something?? Gosh, i might like, truly start crying. It’s so hard to make me actually shed tears. Also they didn’t argue about him being a kid with powers, I wonder if they where arguing about like. If it would be worth it to take him to the place they had to?? Freaking heck. This song is making me emotional.

-so im guessing his parents had to get him somewhere, but had to sacrifice themselves to get him where he needed to go. And now im crying.😭😭😭. A really good album, but it kinda felt like being taken to the last movie in a series with my older sister and getting wrecked emotionally, and she’s sitting over there like ‘I told you to read the books or watch the others before we came.’ But she’s also crying.

Anyway. Thanks for introducing me to this band, I’ll have to give everything else a listen now too when I’m not emotionally destroyed

Dying to know if you’ve listened to Vaxis II yet!

I’d love to know your thoughts if you have 🫶🏼

I hope you’ve had a splendid weekend!

I haven’t had the time sadly😭 I’ve been In Recovery™️ today from the overstimulating weekend I had (fun times, a lot of Car Time which I love, but I am exhausted now🫠). I’m planning on listening tomorrow I think, I’ll be home alone, and I can use the big tv with the good speaker that when I turn it up loud can be heard from the drive way!!

Edit, oops: I hope your weekend was really good too! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (14)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: The lyrics of the song your eyes tell by BTS used in this chapter is NOT translated by me. It is composed/covered by  genuis english  translation and Jess A. Please consider listening to their music here. They’re a great singer! A line from Agust D’s 140503 at Dawn is also used in this update.

Warnings: blood, physical violence

***This is a super short chapter. JJK is just reflecting hehe

SERIES: CHAPTER 13 | FINAL CHAPTER

The blood in Jeongguk's lower lip was mocking him—telling him that once again, he fucked up.

Or at least this was what Park Jimin thought.

"So that's it, huh?" Your best friend rarely resort to violence—wait. This was wrong. Violence was never an option for Jimin, but he was making an exception tonight.

"You're just going to give up on her?" The older boy grabbed the collar of your soulmate's shirt.

Jimin was so mad he swore he could beat Jeongguk to a pulp.

How could Jeongguk be this dumb?

Jimin heard your conversation with your soulmate just a few breaths ago. He didn't plan to eavesdrop, it just happened.

Yoongi was the first one to know what happened to you. He was adamant to let you leave a while ago. He just had this weird feeling in his stomach that told him to check up on you.

His nightmare became a reality when he saw Jimin and Taehyung making out on the couch. You weren't with them and it only meant one thing: you left alone.

Yoongi was so mad at himself. He should have called you an uber or he should have driven you to wherever the hell you wanted to go.

This was partly his fault that's why he couldn't help but shudder in fear and regret when one of his staffs told him about what happened to you.

Police officers said you were under the influence of alcohol. Yoongi already knew this, but Taehyung and Jimin were still shocked.

They had no idea you left.

It actually took the three of them a long time to know what had happened to you. By the time they reached the hospital, they were already too late.

Jeongguk managed to make you cry over and over again.

What an asshole.

What kind of soulmate was Jeongguk? Were you really meant to be together? These questions were running inside your best friend's head. It had been answered when Jeongguk suddenly pushed Jimin away.

He wiped the blood in his bottom lip, smirking at his hyung.

"Who said I'm giving up on her?"

Jimin's jaw dropped. Jeongguk’s voice is full of confidence and determination.

"Y-You’re not?"

"No." Your soulmate said firmly. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not when he was sure about what he felt for you, not when you needed him the most, and definitely not when you were giving up on him.

No. He should fight when you couldn't.

"Good," your best friend released a breath. He hated your soulmate for hurting you, but Jimin also knew that you loved Jeongguk—even if you told him otherwise.

This was the sad thing about the existence of soulmate that Jimin despised. The encouraging reminders like 'You should learn to love yourself,' and 'you don't need your soulmate to be happy,' would not apply.

It helped, yes. But your world was different. It would always feel like a part of you was missing when your soulmate didn’t love you back.

Humans were made to love and to feel loved. This reminded Jimin of the neon signage that's plastered on Genius Lab: I'm the island in this vast ocean, don't abandon me. This was Min Yoongi's idea. The bar owner always told him and everyone (really) that people were like island—they were able to provide—to extend their hands in this cold world.

They should never be abandoned because like any other things, they needed to be taken care of too.

"But what are you planning to do?" Jimin creased his forehead.

Jeongguk didn't even bat an eyelash when you told him to let you go. This was what annoyed Jimin. How could your soulmate be so silent about this? Why did he simply leave when you told him to go?

In Jeongguk's defense, he just didn't want to upset you any longer. He was aware that his presence was stressing you out. You should rest, especially because there's possibility that you might need to undergo an eye surgery.

Jeongguk's heart clenched once again. You were blind and you thought it was because he hated you.

It’s not true and he would change your mind.

"Seriously, Guk?" Taehyung shook his head, scowling. "This is your and my fiancé’s idea?"

"Don't get mad at Jimin-hyung. It's my idea." Jeongguk corrected his best friend. "Your soulmate is just helping me."

It had been days since the accident and you were aware that Jeongguk had been by your side all this time, not really by your side, per se, but he was around. He was patiently waiting outside of your room in this hospital, begging Jimin and your other loved ones to tell him what he could to help.

Today was the only time he left the hospital, as in the same day of your eye surgery.

Jeongguk swore he's not running away this time though. He was actually going to let you know that he would be staying with you. Forever.

"I can't let you do this, Jeon. I'm gonna lose my job if you fuck this one up!" Taehyung groaned.

"Hyung, please. This is really important!" Jeongguk was nervous. He was running out of time. Your surgery was in a few minutes and here he was, invading the studio where Taehyung worked as a DJ.

"This is going to be aired on national radio, Guk. As in the whole South Korea!"

"I know!" Jeongguk's eyes were blown wide. "This is exactly why I want to do this, hyung. I want everyone to know how I feel!"

If you couldn’t see, then maybe you could understand Jeongguk’s feelings by listening. He was willing to explore other senses just to make you believe.

"Fucking sappy!" In the end, Taehyung had no choice but to let his best friend proclaim his love for you.

Jeongguk smiled as he tapped the microphone, softly calling your name.

"It's Jeongguk. I know you don't want to hear from me, but I have something to say." Jeongguk grimaced. He seriously sucked when it came to expressing his emotions through words. "This will be quick, I promise. I just hope Jiminie-hyung is actually helping me out."

"Of course he is!" Taehyung shouted somewhere. Jimin wouldn't dare to ruin this for you. His task was simple anyway. He only needed to make sure that you were listening to the radio a few moments before your eye surgery.

You were nervous. Jimin wanted to help you calm down by making sure that you knew Jeongguk was not going to leave you alone in the cold.

"Anyway I know that I...well...I," your soulmate blushed. How should he describe himself? Was there a word that could emphasize his stupidity?

"I am an idiot." Jeongguk bit the inside of his cheek. This was the only adjective he could think of. "I am the idiot who hurt you and I know, I know...I don’t deserve your forgiveness because of how selfish I was—I mean, am. I still am."

He chuckled nervously. His heart was hammering.

"Call me selfish or whatever you want. I'm sure I deserve it anyway, but yeah...I'll be selfish again if this is the only way to let you know what I really feel about you."

Jeongguk cleared his throat as the beat of the music started to play.

"Why are my eyes filled with tears?” He sang.

This was a song composed by him. Of course he couldn't do this alone. Namjoon was the one who produced the beat of this song. He also helped his brother-in-law to write the lines. Ji-eun's father was a lyrical genius.

"Hey, stay by my side and laugh.” Jeongguk knew he was asking for too much. It was impossible to simply smile and stay with him—not after the hell he had put you through.

"A future without you is a world without color, filled with monochrome coldness." But this was the exact representation of what would happen if you weren't in his life.

Life would literally be black and white. Dull. Jeongguk knew how essential colors were in his life, yet if he was forced to choose between the hues and you, he would choose you in a heartbeat.

"Even the darkness we see is so beautiful. Please believe me."

Darkness was the absence of light. You were Jeongguk’s light. His life would be dark if you were not around.

He also knew you were going through the darkest time of your life, so he wanted this moment to still be beautiful.

He wanted you to believe that every hardship would pay off. You just had to believe.

"Looking only directly at you, so you don't go away"

Jeongguk wrote this line many months ago. It wasn't even meant to be lyrics to a song. These were simply the words he incorporated in his art.

Jeongguk was a soft person. He usually put cheesy captions in his paintings and drawings—the things he usually couldn’t verbalize.

"Whatever lies in the way of you and me. I'll just keep looking at the future of you and I."

It didn't matter that you lost hope. Jeongguk was sure he would make you believe in love again.

"Shadows of the past keep chasing me everywhere I go, and they try to keep ahold of me and till this day they follow me."

He would try to let go of his hurtful past. Those things didn't matter because he could always make good memories with you.

"Even though it seems to be the start of the end I'll call you and shout out your name."

He would be the hope in your relationship. This might be the end for you; however, Jeongguk was just starting.

Starting to accept the soulmate bond.

"I'll become your eyes to the world and for whatever we may face."

Starting to show you how much you meant to him.

He was willing to become your eyes if you didn't recover from this instantly. He would guide you until you could see again.

"One day all of this, this sadness that we share will bring us together."

The sadness would be over soon. You would see again;

Because Jeon Jeongguk was sure. He loved you and...

"Your eyes will tell."