#clever title and very nice song | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vodika-vibes · 6 months ago

Note

Hey idk if this has already been done but an Echo x reader enemies to lovers like reader is a separatist.

First Burn

Summary: The Separatists have won the war. The Republic lies in tatters, and the Clone Army has been repurposed for use for the Separatist Army. You are a member of Serrano’s Intelligence Department, and you just found out that you’re being gifted a clone to help you with your work. Needless to say, no one is thrilled about this.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 2484

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, sorry that this took so long, but I've been working on it since I got it, basically, and I only managed to think of an ending that made me happy today. I hope you like it! The title comes from a Hamilton song, I think. It doesn't have anything to do with the story, but it's what I was listening to when I started writing. And, for all that this is an AU, it is not part of my AU event.

“I’m not sure I understand,” You say blankly as you look from the irate-looking man, clapped in chains, over to your direct supervisor, “Has my work been less than satisfactory?”

“Not at all.” Your Supervisor, who also happens to be your uncle and your warden, replies as he roughly claps you on the shoulder, “Count Dooku is very happy with your work. Which is why you’re getting a clone.”

The clone in question glowers at your uncle, and you’re not sure you blame him.

“You want someone who, up until a month ago, was an enemy against us to work in intelligence? Does this seem...wise?”

“It’s fine. It’s hardly clever enough to interfere.”

You’d be stunned by your uncle’s casual racism if you weren’t used to it. So you sigh and rub the back of your head, “Alright. But when this goes terribly, I reserve the right to say, ‘I told you so’.”

“Ha! You won’t have to.” He claps your shoulder one more time, “Have fun!” And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with a man who, you’re sure, would sooner put a blade in your throat than anything else.

“Right, well...what should I call you?” You finally ask.

“CT-1409.”

“...right. I’m not calling you by a number.” You can’t help but wonder if the Republic ever gave him a name. It would be awful if they hadn’t.

You’re surprised when he looks surprised. What kind of awful stories must the Republic have spread about your people for him to be surprised at your statement?

“...My brothers call me Echo.”

“Echo,” You nod once, committing his name to memory. And then, almost carelessly, “Nice to meet you, Echo.” You absolutely need him to see you as a person, rather than a Separatist. Because if he wanted to hurt you, no one would come to save you.

He shoots you a look, “Where are my brothers?”

“No idea. But I can look into it if you want.” You turn and head deeper into your domain, “Follow me please, there are some safety things we need to cover.”

“Like what?” Echo sounds sarcastic, though he is following you, so you’ll accept the small win.

“Well, primarily, this facility is located deep underground. Most of the machines down here are dedicated to life support. If any of them stop working, we die before anyone even realizes that there’s something wrong.” You reply.

“It would take time to run out of air.” He argues back, logically.

You pause and look at him, “You misunderstand. If any of these machines break down, this entire facility will be filled with toxic gas. We’d be dead before we even knew what was happening.”

Echo stares at you, “What.” It doesn’t sound like a question.

“Toxic gas. Dead instantly. I’m not sure what wasn’t clear about that.”

“I’m more confused by the fact that this sounds like a prison rather than a place spies hang out.”

Well. He’s not wrong.

You shrug but continue, “We have a small army of maintenance droids whose sole function is to keep the machines working. Please don’t mess with the droids.”

“Noted.” He follows you further into the facility and then stops, “Aside from the droids, I haven’t seen any other people.”

“Yeah, well. That’s because there aren’t.”

“So, what,” Wow, his sarcasm could be used as a weapon with how skillfully he wields it, “You work alone in intelligence?”

You shake your head, “There are plenty of people who work in intelligence, but I’m the only one who works here. I’m the best analyst that Serrano has.”

“So you work alone.”

“Well, it’s not like I can leave, now is it?” You start walking again, “Keep up, Echo.”

He falls into step next to you, though he doesn’t say anything as you show him around the facility. It’s not large, all things considered.

The majority of the space is filled with all of the machines and computers needed to run the life support. Your working area is a decently sized room that could probably fit ten people comfortably, for all that you use it alone.

The living space, though, is much more homey.

“So, this is where we sleep. And eat.” you pause, “And basically do everything that isn’t work.”

It’s not tiny. There are two distinct bedrooms, on opposite sides of the living room, and each bedroom has a fresher attached to it. The kitchen is decently sized and has all of the appliances that you might need to survive.

“My room is the one closest to the door,” You motion to the door, and then you motion to the other one, “That one’s been empty since I was moved in, but I air it out and clean it weekly so you don’t have to worry about dust or mold.”

“Moved in—”

“Sorry?”

Echo glances at you, “You said you were moved in, not that you moved in.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, taking your time to consider your words carefully, “Once, there was a group of people who felt, strongly, that the way that Dooku was doing things was not beneficial to Serrano as a whole.” You finally say, “Unfortunately, being a former Jedi is like having a cheat code for life, so—”

“So this is actually a prison then.”

You smile bitterly and hold your hands to the side, “And we both have life sentences.”

Something softens in his hard gaze, “I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “Don’t be. I made my choice, and I made it knowing what the consequences might be.”

“Brave.”

You laugh, “Well, you’d be the only one who thinks that.” You head into your kitchen and wave your hand over the holo-computer to wake it up from its sleep, “Anyway, this is where we order food, clothes, and personal things that we might need.” You explain, “Orders need to be submitted by 6 pm on the last day of the work week, and everything we order will be delivered by noon the next day.”

You move one of the holograms, showing a half-formed grocery list.

“And it’s delivered accurately?”

“Yep. If we can’t get a specific item, a message will arrive to my personal comm.” You explain, “I’ll add you to the contact list so you can get those comms too.” You fold your arms, “What else—”

Echo leans in and adds a couple of food items to the list, looking impressed when the list shifts and adjusts itself so it remains sorted logically.

“Ah! Laundry!” You walk over to a sliding wood door and pull it open, “Washer, dryer,” You point to each object individually, “We’ll probably want to work out a chore schedule, but I don’t have a problem doing all of the laundry.” You point to three baskets, “Darks, lights, towels. Our dryer isn’t the best, so towels need to be dried on their own or nothing will get dry.”

Echo stares at you, and then his gaze slides around the room. “How long have you been down here?” He finally asks.

“I was thrown down here 6 months after the war started.” You reply honestly.

Echo turns his gaze back to you, “You’ve been down here for almost two years? Alone?”

“Well, it’s not so bad.” You lie with a shrug, “Nothing was stopping me from enrolling in the local University so I got another degree. In Communications. And I learned how to cook.”

“You had to have been lonely though.”

“Well. Loneliness is relative. Better here than dead, right?”

“I guess.” Echo looks around for a moment, “You never tried to escape?”

“Yeah, I did mention the toxic gas, right? Kill us instantly?” You shrug, “Besides, where would I go? My uncle is the warden.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Anyway, you should probably go and put in an order for clothes and hygiene stuff. There’s enough clothes in storage that you’ll be fine for a bit, but they’re old.”

“Yeah. Good idea.” He murmurs.

“And you wanted me to look in on your brothers, right? Got any names?”

“My twin brother, Fives. And a couple of others. Jesse, Rex, Kix—”

You pass him a pad of paper and pen, “Here, write them down. And I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank me after I find you answers, and not a moment sooner.” You flash a small smile at him and then turn to head back to the storage room. Echo needs the spare clothes from previous prisoners, and he’s going to need time to write down names.

Still, it is nice to have someone to talk to after all these years.

You hope that he warms up to you eventually. Or this is going to be a very long life sentence.

Eight months into his life sentence, Echo has to admit that it’s not terrible.

Oh, it’s not great by any definition of the word either. But it could be worse.

His cellmate is a stellar chef, a talent created through years of experimentation. Not to mention she’s quick-witted and clever, able to exchange quips and barbs with him without stumbling over her tongue.

She does talk a lot, though. Non-stop, almost.

He’s not dumb, he knows that it’s a habit that she developed over two years of isolation to keep herself sane. Honestly, she talks almost as much as Fives does. Luckily, he’s used to that.

And, begrudgingly, he likes her. Likes her enough that he gives her a nickname, Firefly.

Likes her enough that, four months ago, his plans for an escape morphed into plans for the both of them to escape. He just has to work out a couple of bugs.

Like how to keep them from dying when the poison gas fills the prison to kill them.

He frowns at the pad of paper, absently tapping his pencil against the diagram that he’s painstakingly mapped out. Echo never uses a datapad, if he can help it.

Fortunately, firefly keeps a bunch of notebooks on hand, and she doesn’t question him when he asks her to destroy a sheet of paper…or twenty.

“Whatcha working on?”

Echo glances up at her, “You really want to know?”

“Well, yeah.” She waves her pen at him, “You’ve been working on… whatever it is for the last eight months, and I’m curious.”

Echo leans back, “It’s an escape plan.”

“You’d leave me?” She asks immediately.

Echo rolls his eyes, “And escape plan for the both of us.”

Surprise flashes across her face, “You’d take me with you?”

“Would you prefer that I left you behind?”

“Ah, no.” She grins at him, “Honestly, I thought you hated me and were just being polite.”

Echo stares at her, “I gave you a nickname.” He says, exasperated.

“True, but as a friend or foe, you were very unclear.”

He laughs, “Who gives foe nicknames?”

“You clearly never met my friends.” She replies, “My bff had a nemesis who she called Furnace.”

“Do people have nemeses?”

“Uh, they do if they’re dramatic.”

He laughs again, “Well, I don’t do foe nicknames.”

She hops to her feet and crosses the living room to drop on the couch next to him and she flings her arms around his neck, “You loooove me~”

Echo presses his hand over her face and pushes her off of him, “Stop being silly.”

“Never.”

He rolls his eyes, “Anyway, this is what I have, but I’m stuck on how to deal with the poison gas.”

She ducks under his hand and leans against his shoulder, scanning the map. A thoughtful escapes her, and then she taps a spot on the map, “The Maintenence tunnels.”

“No, I considered that. They get too hot for a human to survive.”

“Yes, they do.” She agrees, “But if we alter a maintenance droid, the maintenance tunnels will stay cool enough for someone to survive the tunnel.”

“But the poison gas—”

“Is light.”

“Sorry?”

“The gas is very toxic, but it’s also a very light gas. It rises.”

“So, if we’re already in the maintenance tunnels—”

“And the temperature is high enough to hide our heat signatures—”

“Then by the time the gas fills the entire prison, we’ll already be gone.” Echo finishes, and then he pauses, “I thought you never tried to escape?”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t make plans. Hundreds of plans, each more impossible than the last.”

“Why didn’t you try to escape?”

“Escaping the prison is the easy part, Echo. Where would I go? I was a Separatist, the Republic never would have taken me in. It was just safer to stay here.”

“And now?”

“The Republic is no more, and the average person is finally starting to take off their rose-color glasses.” She shrugs, “We might actually be able to steal a ship.”

“Steal, huh?”

“Yeah, well. No one is going to just give us a ship, Echo.”

He laughs softly, “You ever hotwire a ship before?”

“You haven’t?”

“Oh? Where does a nice girl like you learn how to hotwire vehicles?”

“I had a very formative childhood.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Echo leans in so that his face is only an inch away from hers. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe I do love you.”

“You only love my ideas.”

“Your body isn’t that bad.”

“Rude!”

His grin widens, “So, when can we make this happen?”

“Mm…a week? Maybe two.”

“That soon, huh?”

“That soon.” She agrees.

They fall into a comfortable silence, and then Echo smirks, “So, how do we keep them from getting suspicious?”

“Well, we have to act normal.”

“And when we start spending all of our time together?”

“I dunno, I’m sure we can come up with something.” She says with a sigh.

A slow smirk crosses his face, “I think I have an idea.”

“Oh? Wha—” She squeaks when his lips land against hers, coaxing her into a deep kiss. His tongue slides against her lower lip, as he presses her back so that she’s half lying under him.

“Like that.” Echo breathes out as he supports his weight over her.

She blinks at him, wide-eyed, and deeply flustered, “Yeah. That’ll work.”

“Great, I’ll move into your room, cyare.”

“Um…okay. But the beds aren’t that big.”

Echo leans in and kisses the tip of her nose, “You let me worry about that.”

“And later? When we’re free from Serrano?”

“We stick together. After all, I can’t just abandon my girlfriend, right?”

“Girlfriend?” She asks softly.

“Girlfriend.” Echo agrees, “Unless you’d rather not?”

“Well, I’m not opposed.”

He grins at her, wide and boyish before he leans in and kisses her one more time, “Alright. I need to move my bed into your room. Wanna help?”

“I suppose I’d better.”

Echo rolls off of her, and offers her his hands to pull her to her feet. Fives is going to find this hilarious. He goes to prison and comes out on the other side with a girlfriend.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

84 notes · View notes

bisnes-socks · 21 days ago

Text

kun olin pieni, äiti tiesi; musta tulee herkkusieni. people's champion.

i'm not sure i have a lot to say about this one, because it feels quite straight forward to me but i have a couple of notes about the language and some overall thoughts.

starting with overall thoughts: like i said, i feel like this one is pretty straight forward, i doubt i have anything to say that people haven't already thought of. this song is just the whirlwind of rhe CCC and ESC era condensed into a few minutes, and it's him also finally accepting the title of people's champion and finding a way to be proud of his achievement, even though he clearly wasn't for a bit after it happened.

but i'm very happy that he has accepted it and owned it. he IS the people's champion. and he's allowed to have a complicated relationship to that title, but i'm glad he is owning it.

the song is musically quite punk-esque. the verses having that bass/drop tuned & effect guitar is super interesting and not that typical for his music. the guitar without any distortion at the beginning also something different from him, it's an interesting sound.

it's a nice song to end the album on, a lil thank you song to everyone.

now language stuff.

first of all, is everyone aware of why the theme is mushrooms? champignon being a type of mushroom? i scrolled through wikipedia and it seems quite a few european languages use a version of the word champignon for this specific type of mushroom, so i'm assuming quite a few people would have gotten the connection. in finnish champignon is herkkusieni though. which is a funny word because herkku means delicious and sieni means mushroom. so in finnish they're just called delicious mushrooms. we like to be literal.

(so why use champignon if that word is not used in finnish you ask? well it's printed in big letters on every box of said mushrooms in the shops, so everyone does know the word)

i like the reference to his older songs with "kevät 23 taksit tuli pihaan" meaning (literal translation) spring 23 taxis came to the yard. he uses the line about taxis coming to the yard in a few older songs, usually in connection with partying, so normally in a käärijä song taxis coming is like either taking him and his friends to party or back home. but in this instance, they're there to take him to something completely new, a new adventure, so this time round the line about taxis brings a little bit of nerves with it. it's just clever, to be able to use the same line to create a new kind of tension!

"siit tuli haloo ku tulin taloo" is such a succinct yet accurate way of putting what happened! haloo is literally a finnish translation of the english word hello, but to say something (a situation) is a "haloo" it means it's a bit of a commotion. so "siit tuli haloo ku tulin taloo" means that his arrival to "the house" meaning ESC, turned into full commotion.

in the second verse he says "se oli kaikkee muuta ku divaritasoo" which here refers to divisions in sports like hockey and, as far as i understand, football too. so in finnish hockey terms, the best teams play "liiga" and then there are multiple levels under that level, and the lowest levels are divisions 2-5. division -> divari. so he's saying ESC was anything but division level, meaning of course, that the level there is the highest of high.

now, you might have heard the word divari in the song yhtä vailla as well. "massit palo pipariks, meikäläisen talous uppos niinku titanic. ei oo varaa käydä edes divaris mut tuun silti back niinku Arska ja pistän sikariks." well, in this context divari means a secondhand store, which he cannot afford to visit because all his money is gone. divari is usually a second hand book store or record store, to be specific. in this case divari is short for diverssikauppa, which is a loan word from swedish (diversehandel). note: nobody uses the word diverssikauppa. it's divari, or antikvariaatti.

overall this song feels like he's trying to keep the lyrics super simple too, essentially just explaining what happened. and i feel like it fits this song: anyone who hears it, or even runs it through a translator, can figure out what it's about. and because it's a message to the people, i find it fitting that it's kept quite simple.

it's a pretty cute ending for the album.

#käärijä

23 notes · View notes

jebewonmorelike · 2 years ago

Text

Devil by the Whiteboard

wc: 4.2k (so i was way off lmao) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: MEAN!hanbin he is not nice so be forewarned but the ending suggests he can possibly be fixed maybe but no promises; being alone with a mean person in a hallway; light swears; angst but only towards the end; i wrote that they go to an academy but it could be a university it doesn't change the story summary: booksmart!reader is ready to finally win the scholastic decathlon, but a series of coincidental unfortunate events that couldn't possibly have anything to do with studentbodypresident!hanbin threaten to ruin their chances once more. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ guys i did it, i finished my masterpiece. i hope you like it. academic play on the title of the txt song, i know-- clever. the scholastic decathlon is inspired by the one in high school musical. also pls don't make fun of me for not knowing how science or chemistry works, i was literally advance in science but my chem teacher in high school was on academic probation for being such a bad teacher and we all nearly failed our regional exams so. anyway pls excuse this or lightly roast me in the tags or comments. i hope you enjoy mean!shanbin... this one might need a part 2... or a prequel. or both. I'M SO EXCITED I FINISHED THIS OMFG I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

(part two— “i didn’t think you had it in you”)

It's 7 P.M. on a Friday and there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be than at the Regional Scholastic Decathlon Finals. You're about to partake in your favorite extracurricular activity: more academics. There's only one thing you wish you could change...

"I'm so honored to be competing as a team leader in the Regional Scholastic Decathlon Finals," Hanbin says into the handheld microphone. "And I'm even more honored to be competing against who I believe to be the most worthy opponents."

You fight the urge to gag at the Student Body President standing next to you on the makeshift stage.

"And you know each other well, I've been told," the announcer adds with a laugh. "You and (Y/N) are something of academic rivals, yes?"

Hanbin laughs, smile lines on his cheeks only adding to his innocent, clean-cut image. "In the most respectful way. Wouldn't you agree, (Y/N)?"

There are, in truth, very few things you'd agree less with. Coming from a private academy for gifted students, there were several different Scholastic Decathlon teams at your school. The Green Team, the Red Team and the Yellow Team had all already been eliminated this semester, which left the Blue Team (led by Hanbin) and the Pink Team (led by you).

There had also been a new Purple Team formed at the beginning of this year, but they were disbanded when the headmaster found out the "experiments" they were conducting in the science labs were a bit unorthodox.

You honestly weren't sure how much of a "worthy opponent" the Pink Team was at this rate. The Blue Team had won Regionals for three semesters straight and it didn't seem like their streak would end any time soon...

Not with Sung Hanbin on their side.

You glance at the walking, talking cinnamon roll standing next to you and wish fervently that all his teeth would fall out. "Right. Respectful," you chime quietly into your own microphone.

"And (Y/N)! It seems this is always where the Pink Team meets its demise under your leadership," the announcer notes, a bit too happily if you're being honest. "What makes you think you can beat Hanbin this time?"

The audience of family, friends, and teachers laughs awkwardly at the dig of a question. You swallow nervously, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you answer.

You and Hanbin were total opposites, both competing for the tile of top student since your first year at the academy. He was friendly, outgoing-- a networker, even. When the election for Student Body President came around each year, there weren't any votes cast for anyone except Sung Hanbin (and you knew that for a fact since you were the one counting them). You were more of a behind-the-scenes overachiever. Acing every class, developing plans and putting them into action, and keeping your head down in the hallways to avoid any unwanted social interaction.

Though President Hanbin had been asked to recite a speech for Teacher's Appreciation Week, it was Secretary (Y/N) who had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning writing it.

"I don't think I can beat Hanbin," you say finally. "But I do think the Pink Team can beat the Blue Team. I think that's what you meant to ask, right?"

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence before Hanbin grins, extending his hand for you to shake. "I couldn't agree more. This event is about our teams, not us. Every team member has worked hard to prove their abilities tonight."

You watch as the audience absolutely melts at the handsome boy's charming smile and his words of camaraderie that were merely a more attractive repackaging of your previous reply. You pull your hand back from his as quickly as possible.

The announcer smiles in admiration at the boy to his right. “You are entirely correct, Hanbin. My mistake. And what a wonderful sentiment for you to share with us.”

It barely even phases you anymore: the hold Hanbin could have on people. Maybe you’d have been captivated too, if you weren’t the one person who--.

“(Y/N)?” The announcer prompts, his tone indicating that this isn’t the first time he called your name. “Any words for your team?”

“Oh,” you mumble, mentally shaking off the embarrassment of daydreaming during a regional competition. "Let's do our best! No matter the outcome, though we will strive for a good one, I'm incredibly proud of the work my amazing team has done so far this year and you all should be as well. Fighting!"

"That's just swell," the announcer replies rather unenthusiastically. "Hanbin?"

Hanbin nods, smiling graciously at the announcer and the crowd. "We've put in so much time and effort this semester and I truly believe our labor of love has blossomed into a winning fruit. And, even on the chance that we don't take this win, I will still be so proud of that fruit that is my amazing team. Fighting!"

The audience applauds and the scream sitting in your throat is now desperately trying to claw its way out. Instead, you just smile.

"Hanbin has such a way with words, doesn't he?" The announcer muses to you.

"He does," you agree politely, muttering under your breath, "If that 'way' is stealing them."

"Then let's get this Regional Final started!" The announcer's words are met with applause as you rejoin your team behind your table.

"We've got this," your teammate Maria encourages, patting you on the back gently. "It's our turn to win!"

You nod, smiling at your team and giving them two thumbs up. "Let's win this! Fighting!"

The first subject of the Super Relay is mathematics, an event where each team's members must rotate in a line to solve a new equation while racing against both their opponent and the clock. As the team leader, you are last in line as you will have the least amount of time left on the clock to solve your equation.

Unfortunately, Sung Hanbin is also at the end of the Blue Team's line. While you're better at economics, history, literature, and geography, Hanbin has a slight leg up on you in the math and science departments. But you had been studying overtime and, even if you didn't manage to beat his time in this round, you were confident you could follow closely enough behind that your team would not be hurting for points.

As soon as both teams are set in their positions, the announcer raises one arm. "On your marks, get set..."

"Go!" He signals, lowering his arm as Maria rushes to the shared whiteboard.

Her equation flashes on the screen and you exhale with relief. Maria was the weakest at maths on your team, so she always went first in relays so the other four team members could make up the time. This equation is fairly straightforward and in her wheelhouse, so you're able to relax for awhile.

Each team member finishes their equation, placing their markers on the whiteboard shelf and joining the end of the line until it's finally your turn to solve. David throws his marker down too harshly and it falls to the ground, rolling to the other team's side.

Hanbin is now racing up to the whiteboard for his team, but on his way he bends down and reaches under the chair that your team's marker has rolled under. After a moment, he resurfaces; marker in hand as he smiles at you sweetly, holding it out to you as you run up to the whiteboard.

"I think you might need this," he jokes politely. You give him a nod and tear off the cap as you quickly memorize your equation, smiling to yourself as you realize you've practiced this exact problem in a workbook just last week.

"And look at this sportsmanship from Sung Hanbin!" The announcer commends. "He's the Student Body President for a reason, folks."

You put your marker to the board, attempting to copy your equation as you ignore the adoring audience's endless mumbling about Hanbin. As you write, however, you suddenly realize that the marker in your hand isn't producing any ink.

Panic flows through you as you scribble it desperately against the whiteboard trying to get the ink flowing again, but your efforts are fruitless. You turn to the announcer in a frenzy.

"Please, my marker isn't working!" You exclaim, looking to the judges' table for assistance.

"It worked fine for the previous team member," the announcer contests, watching as you show him the lack of ink. "But, yes, it seems to be out of ink."

He walks to the judges table as your heart sits in your stomach, terrified that some fluke could completely ruin your team's chances of finally beating the Blue Team. You glance over at Hanbin, who, much to your surprise, is looking back at you concernedly.

A judge brings you another approved marker and you resume solving your equation frantically, despite the judge relaying that you would have ten seconds added to your permitted time due to the mishap.

After about 45 seconds, you check Hanbin's progress and your spirit is renewed when you see how quickly you've caught up to him. You're now only two lines behind him in the equation and you can tell Hanbin is caught off guard by your speed.

After another thirty seconds, Hanbin steps back from the whiteboard and nods as he double checks his math. He circles his answer and lays his marker down on the shelf, running to the stop clock and hitting his team's timer.

The audience cheers at the Blue Team leader's probable victory, but you don't let it throw you. Another nine seconds and your answer is circled on the board as you run to the buzzer and stop the clock. Your team surrounds you excitedly, praising you for your focus during the stressful situation and your noticeably quick solving of the equation.

After the judges finalize the results of the mathematics portion of the Super Relay, they hand the announcer a script card. "The results are in! The winner of the mathematics Super Relay is... The Pink Team!"

Your team starts to cheer, jumping up and down ecstatically around you as you remain absolutely shocked at the unexpected win.

You watch as the announcer's eyebrows furrow confusedly, rereading the script card to check if the result is correct.. "Huh. Mathematics is usually where the Pink Team has the most trouble, but with the additional ten seconds added to their time clock... The Pink Team wins by just 0.45 seconds."

You can't help but notice that the announcer looks concerned by the results, but before you can analyze him further you're pulled into your team's celebration. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hanbin chewing his lip nervously at the Blue Team's defeat.

You're halfway through the Science portion of the Super Relay when your beaker begins to boil. You watch as it bubbles furiously when it's merely supposed to be simmering on the hotplate.

You hover your hand over the hotplate, panic turning into confusion when you feel a low amount of heat that couldn't possibly be boiling the solution in this beaker. Unfortunately the alternative to a hotplate turned up too high was much worse...

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," you whisper, taking the beaker off of your hotplate with your gloved hands. As expected, the beaker continues to bubble over even after being removed from heat and you stare at the mixture in horror.

Where had you messed up?

You look around at the different tubes on your table, reading the labels of each vial carefully to see if you'd poured in the wrong liquid by mistake. You check each empty tube, verifying that they were in fact the liquids you had thought they were.

But there's one label that catches your eye in particular. The side of it is sticking up slightly and, cautiously, you peel it off to reveal another label underneath.

Glycerin.

Thankfully it wouldn't kill you, but it was a huge nuisance. You'd have to remake the solution and, as you glance at the time clock, you realize your prospects of finishing are hopeless.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

Hanbin hits his team's buzzer in the knick of time, the crowd erupting into applause for the school's golden boy. You chew your cheek, willing yourself not to cry as your team members begin to comfort you. Just as you compose yourself, you hear shouts coming from the other side of the room.

"(Y/N) couldn't even finish the experiment!" One of the younger Blue Team members taunts, smirking at you. "Pink Team is going down!"

"Maybe they should consider appointing a new leader," another Blue Team member jeers. "(Y/N) is clearly--."

"That's not very kind, Ilsung," Hanbin interrupts, placing a hand on the shoulder of both of the younger team members sternly. "Everyone here is trying their best and, unfortunately, mistakes are very easy to make under pressure."

"I didn't make a mistake. The--," you start to correct, but Hanbin has already stepped up onto his metaphorical soapbox once more.

"Whether we are winners in the competition or not, we are the losing team if we don't treat our opponents with the respect they deserve," Hanbin concludes, turning back to face the audience.

"Once again, Sung Hanbin proves his humility and kindness," the announcer coos as Hanbin shakes his head to politely deflect the compliment with a smile. "Exactly what we'd expect from the Fall Regional Scholastic Decathlon champion."

"What!?" You exclaim. "He didn't even win yet!"

"Anyway," the announcer continues as the judges hand him the results, "the winner of the science portion of the Super Relay is... The Blue Team! Obviously!"

You laugh hopelessly. "Obviously, he said."

"It's alright," David reassures. "Double the points in the final Humanities portion. The Blue Team has nothing on us!"

You nod, smiling reluctantly. "You're right. We can still win this! I believe in all of you. Let's do this!"

Pink Team is ahead 44 to 36 when you finally step up to the podium to answer your set of twenty humanities questions. Hanbin steps up to his podium, picking up his buzzer and breathing deeply in preparation for the upcoming questions in his weakest area.

You pick up your buzzer, placing your thumb on the trigger comfortably so that it doesn't cramp when you press it rapidly.

"Good luck," Hanbin says, smiling at you cutely.

"Yeah," you manage to reply without throwing up. "You too."

You fire off the five economics questions easily, hitting the buzzer a full second before Hanbin each time. You're on a roll and you don't have any intentions of slowing down.

"Now we'll move onto literature," the announcer prompts, rearranging his script cards.

"One second, please," Hanbin calls suddenly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "This is embarrassing but I think there's something in my shoe. Can I be allowed to remove it?"

The judges look at each other momentarily before nodding. "Quickly," one agrees.

Hanbin bends down, untying his shoelace and shaking out his shoe. You look out at the audience, who are all both visibly and audibly fawning over how adorable the Blue Team leader is.

"So endearing, that Sung Hanbin," the announcer remarks fondly.

Hanbin finally hops back up to his feet, nodding at the judges and the audience respectfully. "Please forgive me for the delay."

"No worries at all. Let's jump right back into it then," the announcer segways. "Question six: What is the name of the collection of 85 articles written by Alexander Hamilton, John Jay—.”

You smile as you press your buzzer, but confusion sweeps over you when Hanbin’s buzzer sounds first.

“The Federalist Papers,” he answers, but you can hear a bit of uncertainty in his voice.

“Correct,” the announcer says. “Question seven: Name the correct order of the three cantos of The Divine Com—.”

You press your buzzer, Hanbin’s buzzer ringing out again.

“Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso,” the Blue Team leader answers correctly again.

You go through five more questions like this— knowing the answer to them all immediately only to somehow be beaten by Hanbin’s buzzer.

“Um, excuse me?” You ask before the start of the history round. “I think… I think there’s something wrong with my buzzer!"

The announcer turns to the judges who allow the complaint with a nod. "Please test your buzzer several times," the judge on the end requests, gesturing for you to proceed.

You press the button on your buzzer and hear it ring. You press it once more and it rings again. The third time you press it, your cheeks heat up with utter embarrassment. You could've sworn it wasn't working just a moment ago...

You smile uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," you apologize quickly, mortified as your bottom lip tucks between your lips shyly.

"It's okay," Hanbin answers, smile lines appearing on his perfect cheeks. "I know this last section is usually not my best, but I promise it's just because I've been studying so hard. I would be thrown off guard too!"

The audience laughs at his humorous compassion, your error only making way for another opportunity to boost Hanbin's morale. You swear you feel yourself shrinking down, down, down to the size of an ant as Hanbin gets every last point in the final round of the Super Relay.

You pressed the buzzer in the middle of every question.

"It's okay, (Y/N)," Maria says, resting her head on your shoulder. "I'm sure all of that stuff with the marker just threw you off. That wasn't your fault."

You shake your head, completely perplexed by how this had happened and now also beginning to questioning your sanity. "I was pressing the buzzer," you assert, fighting off another round of tears welling up in your eyes as the adrenaline of the competition wheres off.

"I pressed the buzzer every time."

"We'll get 'em next semester, (Y/N)!" David encourages. "And they'll never see it coming."

You force yourself to smile, not wanting to to show the team your real emotions. Had you really not been pressing the buzzer? Were you actually going crazy?

"Mm," you agree quietly. "Pink Team: Spring Regional Scholastic Decathlon Champions! We'll make it happen!"

Your team all puts their hands into the circle, shouting, "1, 2, 3: Pink Team on Top!" After saying your temporary goodbyes, you walk through the empty hallway behind the gym and hang your lab coat up on the designated rack. As you secure your lab coat on the hook, you hear a mumbling coming from around the corner.

"Here's five hundred," you hear a familiar voice say as you tiptoe quietly to the end of the hall. "I'll get you the other half by Monday."

"Are you kidding me? You said you'd have it in full! Should've known the kid that was paying me to help him cheat in a Scholastic Decathlon would end up screwing me."

You peak your head out slowly around the corner, taking care not to make any loud sounds that might get you caught.

"Guess that's on you then. By Monday."

As the two men start to go their separate ways, you duck back behind the wall and try to control the rampant beating of your heart. You desperately attempt to silence your breathing as you hear one set of footsteps approach, closing your eyes and exhaling with relief when they continue down the hallway and past your hiding spot in the adjacent corridor.

With your hands over your eyes, you rub your face as tension bubbles to the surface. "Oh my god," you squeak out as the interaction you just witnessed sinks in.

Suddenly, something slams down above your head on the locker you're leaning against and rips you from your thought spiral.

"I'm glad you're finally starting to see my appeal," Hanbin says with a smirk, both hands pressed firmly against the locker on either side of your head. "But I think god might be a bit too much, even by my standards."

You swallow nervously, having had the displeasure of being confronted by Hanbin like this numerous times before. You look around to check if by some miracle there's anyone still lingering in the hallway that's witnessing this.

"Just me," Hanbin seemingly reads your mind. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"Y-you--... You..." He tilts his head expectantly, waiting for you to stop tripping over your own tongue. "You cheated?"

"Oh," Hanbin coos mockingly. "Did I?"

You nod, feeling your bottom lip shake. "You paid that announcer to give you all the answers."

"What?" He asks, face scrunching up in confusion. "He didn't give me the--... You think I, the reigning Regional Champion, need someone to give me the answers? Come on, (Y/N), I know you're smarter than that."

You blink back at him silently, watching as his face lights up in amusement.

"Do you actually have that little self-confidence?" He asks, shaking his head at you in amazement. "You really think your marker just happened to stop working right when it was your turn to solve? Or that the glycerin tube was just coincidentally mislabeled?"

Your lips part as Hanbin pieces the truth together for you.

"You and I both know you pressed that buzzer first every single time," he says earnestly, pouting at you sadly. "Are you really that insecure that you'd believe you were going crazy before you'd believe that I'd rigged your buzzer while I was fixing my shoe?"

"You... you..." You attempt to protest, but once again your stammering proves why you're always just Hanbin's ghostwriter.

His eyebrows furrow in concern and it's unnervingly genuine. "Seriously, (Y/N)? Now you're kind of just making me sad."

The patronizing from Hanbin is the last straw. He can steal your words, he can call you names, he can even sabotage your efforts...

But the moment Sung Hanbin begins to pity you is the moment you can no longer just stand there and take it.

"I'm gonna tell everybody," you threaten, but your voice comes out far too soft and shaky for him to take it seriously.

"I'm sure you are," he mocks, smirking at you. "I'm sure this time you won't just suck it up like you always do."

You lean forward, your face now just a couple inches from Hanbin's and you swear you see just the smallest flash of panic in his eyes at your action. "You're right," you agree. "You're always right, Hanbin."

He stares back at you, unmoving.

"That's why I'm so disappointed," you admit, sentiment suddenly shifting. "It wasn't my lack of confidence that made the possibility that you cheated unfathomable to me. It was honestly that, even after everything we've been through, I've always thought a bit more of you than that."

Hanbin leans back, hands falling to his sides as he continues to frown at you.

"I really don't like you, Hanbin, and I don't like always being in your shadow, but the truth is: you make a much better leader than I would," you confess, everything you've wanted to say now flowing freely out of your mouth. "And up until tonight, I thought that if I had to stand in a shadow, at least it was of someone who on some level deserved to be casting one."

Hanbin just blinks, his lips parting slightly as you study him. When he continues to refuse to react, you turn on your heels and begin to walk back down the hallway in the direction that you'd come from. You're halfway to the doors when Hanbin's voice suddenly rings out behind you:

"Join my team next semester."

You turn around quickly, one eyebrow raised in shock. "What!?"

"You heard me," he replies calmly.

"That's--... That's ridiculous! And your team is full anyway."

"Not for you, it's not," Hanbin quips, walking up to you.

"But--... But--."

"Come on, (Y/N). You just said it yourself: you were never meant to be a leader," Hanbin says as he stops in front of you. "But you're smarter than me. That's why I needed to set you back. There was no way I could've beaten you fair and square this time and you know it."

You stare at him wordlessly, wondering what you did in your past life to have to suffer the acquaintanceship of such an infuriating man.

"Even being thrown off by your stupid marker, you knew that equation like the back of your hand," he continues definitively. "If you had spoken up about the mislabeled tube. If you had trusted yourself about the buzzer..."

"But you knew I wouldn't."

He nods. "So join my team. Anyways, I... I could really use you," he says, a sheepish look on his face that you've never seen him wear around you before. "Blue Team is always able to win Regionals because I know how to beat the Pink Team-- I know how to beat you. But we always lose at Sectionals because the smartest person at our school was on the team we just beat."

You bite your lip, chewing on Hanbin's words as you feel both intensely offended and unfortunately flattered. But you could never let him know the latter. "What about anything that I just said makes you think I would join the team of some cheating asshole?"

To your surprise, he just laughs. "I've never heard you swear before. It's kind of..." He clears his throat, trailing off before he finishes his sentence. "If I'm being honest, your sudden display of willpower is kind of throwing me."

"Well I hope it throws you into another dimension, you self-righteous prick," you respond, turning back around furiously and continuing to walk down the hallway towards the exit doors-- shaking your head at the audacity of the boy called Sung Hanbin.

"Then can I pitch an alternative?" Hanbin calls as your fingers grip the door handle.

You pause, not realizing the mistake you've made as Hanbin's voice ricochets off the walls of the gym hallway:

"Go out with me."

371 notes · View notes

euniexenoblade · 4 months ago

Text

Ok so Apple released it's 100 Greatest Albums list a while ago and I scoffed at it, but after watching some youtubers whine about it in different ways, I realized I hadn't given it the fairest shake. I haven't listened to every album on it and a lot of stuff I have listened to I haven't listened to in a long while. So, I'm gonna listen to every album featured and decide how I feel about them. And for fun y'all get small quick reviews.

Starting off, here's part one of my reviews.

I decided to start with Adele's 21. Not for any special reason other than it seemed like it might be nice to listen to in the shower. Adele has a great, powerful voice, but the album has two song archetypes that just get repeated. The songs are mostly competent so individually they're fine, but together as an album they make a very boring experience. Also, I recognized Rumor Has It from a commercial or something, I fucking hate that song. Docked extra points for having that song. This album doesn't belong on the list at all to me, and even if we are throwing a bone to the modern 2010s-2020s artists, she definitely doesn't deserve number 15. A ridiculous placement.

I decided to take on Drake's Take Care and hey guys, does Drake make any other songs? Why do they all sound the same? Does he do anything other than sad boy shit? Of the three Drake releases I've now listened to, this one is easily the best one. I didn't hate the experience, for that Drake deserves some kudos. But, I don't think there's anyway to view Drake positively in 2024. Maybe in 2011 this seemed special, but in 2024 I can easily say that this does not deserve to be on this list, let alone at 47. Giving Drake a pity placement is fine, but not in the top 50.

I have never understood the love that Hotel California garners. Like, the song is good, but it's not earth shattering, and the rest of the album is pretty typical rock for the era. There is just so little content that I haven't got much to say, it's competent enough to not be laughably bad, but it's also so run of the mill there's no highlights. Picking it for a list like this is what I'd call a safe option, not a real option.

I'll be frank, I'm not very familiar with Robyn or Body Talk, so maybe I don't have context on how important this album was to the history of the genre or music at large. Though, to my ear, the album bounces between having wonderful dance pop tracks to having some really boring, repetitive tracks. Still, not the worst album here (not even the worst in this post), it's just hard for me to really gauge how deserving it is for this list.

Probably an album with an unfair advantage, I've been listening to RATM since I was a kid. My favorite Rage album is definitely The Battle of Las Angeles, but I'm not dumb enough to say that should be on the list. Still think Evil Empire had greater music and potentially greater reach than the self titled, but this being here isn't bad. Just a shame it's only at 97.

Did enjoy this a quite a bit. However, musically speaking it feels incredibly one note. This belongs in the top 100 albums ever? Did it really have that level of cultural inspiration? I'm not mad at it being included, not even mad it's at 96, but for it to be in a better spot than the self titled RATM album? Incredibly stupid.

Probably a dumb thing to say, but this is what I expected Drake's album to be like? Fun music and fun lyrics about being a sad boy, a lover boy, and being too playful with women. Honestly, the only reason it gets such low ratings is consistently Usher says shit like this

GET IT?! IT'S CONFESSION PART II, SO HE SAYS PART TWO OF MY CONFESSION!! SOOOO CLEVER come on man. Does it belong on the best 100 list? I don't know. Let someone else decide that.

I have no issue with either of this being on the list, being in the 90s, or any real thoughts to give. Burial isn't quite my vibe musically so I got nothing to say, and Solange is great so it's like. It's cool they're there, no thoughts.

I don't have an issue with George Michael being on this list, but this album? I vibe Faith far more.

Flower Boy by Tyler the Creator is absolutely one of my favorite albums. I'd have imagined that Apple would have chosen Igor, since it's the one people universally seem to adore, but I'm happy Flower Boy is getting love. Flower Boy is my favorite from Tyler and it has special meaning in my heart, so any praise the album can get.

Look, if you're picking AC/DC albums to put on a list, then this is probably the correct pick, but why would you put AC/DC on the top 100 Albums of all Time list? I don't even think they'd qualify for the Top 100 Hard Rock Albums from before the 2000s list! Is it cuz of the Iron Man soundtrack? It's gotta be right?

This is probably my most unpopular opinion: Lady Gaga is overrated as hell. I do not understand what people in 2009 saw in these songs and I still don't get it now. Maybe it belongs on this Top 100 Albums List cuz it had some kind of cultural impact, I mean her music was inescapable for a time. But, I don't get it, I wouldn't put it on my list, and Bad Romance is absolutely one of the most annoying pop songs the radio has ever played.

And, to conclude this long ass pointless post, I'll just jump ahead again to end this on an album I enjoy.

I don't get the weird revisionism that happens around Kid A. I do love it to death, but when it came out it was critically hated. It just feels like everyone treats this as the greatest triumph in music, when the only people that have heard it are Radiohead fans and the weird hipster that tries to act smarter than you in music. Oh well, it's Captain America's favorite album so I guess it works.

I guess more of the issue is Radiohead is one of like, three or four artists on this list that gets more than one spot. Why waste a spot on Kid A at 33 when you have Ok Computer at 12, let some other unnamed artist be on the list instead.

Neither Kid A or OK Computer are my favorite Radiohead albums, but hey, I like Kid A. It's one of four albums I listen to when trying to fall asleep at night, so it's nice to see mentioned I guess.

#music posting #long post

28 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Primetime

Part 3 of Dirty Thirty

🎶 Baby it's a prime time for our love, ain't nobody peekin' but the stars above. It's a prime time for our love, and heaven is betting on us. 🎶

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: Switching POVs (Kishibe third-person, reader second-person), vaginal sex (cowgirl, doggy, missionary), nipple play, spit play, cunnilingus, spanking, breeding kink, daddy kink, lots of fluff, pet names (princess, baby)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Summary: You and Kishibe are officially a couple. These are the little moments that all lead up to the big one.

Notes: I did it. I wrote a Part 3; I hope you all like it! Title inspired by the song “Primetime” by Janelle Monae ft. Miguel, definitely recommend listening to this to set the mood right! Please read the first two parts, linked below! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated, would love to hear what you all think!

Part 1 - Dirty Thirty | Part 2 - After Last Night | ao3

Kishibe doesn’t know how to be a good boyfriend.

It’s been almost a month since he and his girlfriend started dating. This morning, he displays a photo booth picture at his cubicle. She convinced him to do it while they were at the beach boardwalk this past weekend, and of course, he couldn’t refuse her. He never can, despite being opposed to corny shit like that. But even he can admit that the photos turned out decent.

Nobody is at their desk unless they’re filling out paperwork, so he doesn’t think anyone will notice. However Himeno, one of his current protégés, is keen, observant, and a goddamn nosey pest.

“Master, is this your girlfriend?” She points at the photo strip, a hint of excitement bubbling behind her typically calm demeanor.

Not wanting this to be a bigger deal than it needs to be, he casually answers, “Yes.”

“I see.” There’s a clever smirk on her face, as if she’s plotting something cheeky to say. He’s surprised when instead, she comments, “That is a very nice picture.”

He grumbles in response, not used to small talk involving his personal life.

“How long have you been dating?”

“Almost a month.” He pretends to be preoccupied with organizing all his forms, avoiding eye contact, wishing for this conversation to end.

“What are you doing for your anniversary?”

This gets his attention. “Huh?”

“Your one-month anniversary. What are your plans to celebrate?”

Finally, he meets her gaze, setting aside his stack of papers. “People celebrate that?”

“Well, couples do, yes.”

He stares at her, unsure how to react. It’s been decades since his last relationship, probably during grade school if he’s remembering correctly. Obviously, the standards have changed since then, but to celebrate a month of dating? It seems trivial to him. Then again, he hasn’t had a serious girlfriend as an adult. It’s going extremely well between them, and he doesn’t want to mess this up, especially only after a few weeks into it.

Too proud to ask his junior for advice, he takes his lunch break to eat a bowl of ramen while scrolling through his phone, searching every article he can find on how to celebrate anniversaries. He finds a few ideas that he can get on board with, and some he completely tosses out the window because of how fucking ridiculous they are.

By Friday night, the actual day of their anniversary, he has a plan. A little before 6:00 PM, he buzzes her in and waits for the familiar knock on the door. When he opens it, she greets him with a warm smile. “Kishibe.”

She wears a modest dress, having just come from the office. Overnight bag in hand, ready to spend another weekend here at his apartment. Once inside, she drops her belongings and wraps her arms around him. “Hi.”

He returns her embrace, inhaling the pleasant scent he yearns for on the days they’re not together. “How are you?”

“Tired. I’m ready for a nice, relaxing weekend with my boyfriend.” Every time she calls him that, his chest swells with an odd sensation. He hasn’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s not unwanted. In fact, he quite likes it.

As she removes her shoes by the door, he sneaks into the kitchen to retrieve the bouquet he purchased earlier from a local florist. Thirty red roses, one for each day they’ve been a couple. He read online that this is considered romantic.

He walks towards her with the bouquet in his grasp, her eyes and smile widening at the scene before her. “What’s this?”

“Happy one-month anniversary.” He thrusts the roses forward, hoping she takes it. She continues to stare at him with a big grin on her face.

“What?” He’s blushing now, nervous that this is all wrong. “Say something.”

She grabs the flowers, lifting them towards her nose to sniff. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “We also have reservations at your favorite restaurant in an hour.”

At this, she lets out a small squeal. “Really? You didn’t have to do any of this,” she says, face still buried in the flowers, clearly enjoying this.

“I wanted to.”

She sets the roses down on the counter, stepping towards him to tug playfully on his tie. “You really are the sweetest. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I’m such a terrible girlfriend.”

“The worst,” he smirks, sliding his hands around her waist.

“Can I make it up to you?” She kisses him, slow and passionate, using his tie to pull him deeper. “Show you how sorry I am?”

He plays along, knowing exactly where this is leading. “You better be sorry. I’m pretty upset.”

“I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, then.”

“We’ll see.” They walk to the couch in tandem, gazing into each other’s lust filled eyes.

When he’s sat, she straddles him. “Do you remember the night we first met? We were right here on this couch.”

“How can I forget?” He roams up and down her back, the fabric of her dress silky on his calloused fingers.

“Well, my memory is a little hazy. Remind me.” She guides his hands to her chest, kneading her breasts.

“You’re being very naughty right now,” he mutters in his low voice. “First, no gift. Now this. Seems like you want to be punished.”

“Yeah, I do. I need to be punished. I’m a very bad girlfriend.” She peers at him with a desperate expression, eyes gleaming with desire. He can’t help but falter under her gaze.

“Fuck, you’re asking for it.” He lifts the hem of her dress over her ass, feeling for her panties. Sliding his fingers beneath the lace, bunching it in his fist it to bury between her ass cheeks, exposing her beautiful bottom. Perfectly bare for a good spanking. She sucks in a breath, anticipating it, aching for it. He presses a gentle kiss to her ear before delivering a loud smack, focused on the jiggle of her supple flesh upon contact.

“Fuck, baby. Do it again,” she demands, grinding on his lap.

He repeats, this time on the opposite side, massaging the tender skin after. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She presses her forehead to his. “You never do. Don’t worry.”

They kiss as they strip their remaining clothes. Soon, they’re completely naked on the couch, her on his lap, kissing along his neck. He reaches his fingers towards her pussy, caressing his thumb on her clit.

“Baby,” she whines. “I want you inside me. I want to ride this cock until we both come.”

“Then do it, sweetie. I’m all yours.”

It’s reminiscent of their first time. They were hasty that night, desperate for a quick fuck with a total stranger. Indulging in wicked fantasies they both needed satiated. This time, it’s more intimate. He pays attention to the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth in her cheeks, goosebumps forming on the most sensitive spots of her skin, the angelic sounds coming from her lips. Memorizing it all until it’s ingrained in his mind.

His cock is sprung against his abdomen, already leaking precum at the tip. He grabs hold of his erection, rubbing the head onto her puffy clit, tapping it loudly. Wet slaps spurring her to rut into his lap faster. Her hands are clasped around her tits, fingers pinching at her hardening nipples, erotic as ever in front of him. It’s a captivating sight he’s seen before, but always marvels, still in disbelief at his luck one month ago when he first laid eyes on her.

He strokes himself, spreading precum along the shaft, though it’s not enough. “Spit on it, princess. Get it wet for me.”

She nods, bowing her head to dribble a warm stream of saliva down onto his cock, coating his dick. Slick enough, she lifts up to position him at her entrance, sinking down gradually until she’s sat on his lap again, wiggling her ass to get herself comfortable.

He hums, relishing the sensation of being nestled inside her precious cunt, holding her in a snug embrace. They stay like this for a moment, him sliding one hand around her breast, kissing her nipple.

“Kishibe,” she breathes out, eager for more.

He sucks it plump against his lips, flicking his tongue on it, listening for her pleasured moans with each lick. His cock twitches inside her, still hard, surrounded by her wet heat. The temptation to fuck her is almost irresistible; however, seeing her in this blissful state is too marvelous to rush.

“Baby, fuck,” she whines, as he works on her other tit, pulling it taut with his mouth. It’s his favorite, witnessing her unravel on top of him. And tonight is a celebration. It makes it all the more special.

Releasing her, he leans back, holding her sides once more, watching her slowly rock back and forth on his thighs. “Go ahead. Ride me. Fuck me till we both come. You can do it.”

Using her knees for leverage, she rises slightly, keeping just his tip inside, them sinks back down, repeating so that she’s bouncing on his cock steadily.

“There you go. Use that cock, baby. Just like that,” he whispers, staring at his dick disappearing into her pussy. He stays still, letting her do all the work, resisting the urge to slam his hips into her. He wants to savor this, indulge in it as long as he possibly can.

Cupping her face, he teases her lips with his thumb, slipping it inside her mouth for her to suck on. She holds his wrist, sticking it further down her tongue, spreading her saliva around him. He pulls it out, a string of shiny spit connected to her lips as he reaches down to touch her clit.

“Ah, Kishibe. That feels so good,” she praises, riding him faster.

“You’re getting close, I know it. Come for me, baby. Make us both come.” He holds her close, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, messy and wet. His thumb toys with her swollen clit, her wanton moans vibrating against his lips. His abdomen is clenched tight, ready for release. He wants to spill inside her, give her his all, just as she does for him.

Unable to resist any longer, he grips her bottom, holding her in place. He starts thrusting up into her, feet planted firmly to the floor, couch squeaking with every plunge of his hips. She’s tight around him, slick already creamy on his shaft, her fingers rubbing fast on her bud to reach her climax faster. Her high-pitched whimpers and obscene squelches of arousal spur him on, driving him further and further off the edge. They come together, cum filling up her pussy until it’s leaking between them, the sticky aftermath evidence of their passionate love making. They catch their breaths, Kishibe relaxing on the couch as she slumps over him, face buried in his neck. Soon, she starts giggling. He can’t help but join.

“You really are a terrible girlfriend, making me come right before dinner,” he teases her.

“I had to do my part after you planned such a lovely evening.” She sighs happily. “I’m so lucky to have a thoughtful boyfriend.”

“It’s really nothing,” he waves off.

“It’s definitely something. I’m truly so lucky,” she reiterates, nuzzling comfortably against him. “So lucky.”

A while passes before he reluctantly suggests, “We should get ready soon.”

“Wait. Let’s just stay like this for another minute or two,” she murmurs, clinging to him tighter.

He chuckles, thankful she suggested it, because that’s exactly what he wants to do too. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Happy anniversary, Kishibe.”

“Happy anniversary, princess.”

~~~

The first time Kishibe tells you he loves you, he’s drunk.

He has an assignment outside of the city, food and lodging included, staying at a hotel with his protégé, Himeno, who you’ve met several times in the three months you’ve been dating. You’re well acquainted with her, so much so that you even have her number, in case of emergencies. However, she often texts you anyways just to chat, which you don’t mind at all.

On the last day of his mission, he informs you that he’ll be out for drinks with his partner and a few other members of Public Safety. It must have been a successful job, considering there were no deaths, either civilians or devil hunters. It’s always a relief, knowing that Kishibe has survived another day.

You lie in bed, scrolling through the myriad of texts you’ve exchanged with him over the past week. Although he considers himself a man of few words, he never fails to send you a message whenever he can, whether it’s a good morning text, a quick check in, even a snapshot of what he’s eating that day. Tonight, he barely contacts you, busy celebrating with his comrades. You can’t blame him, but there’s no denying it; you miss him.

Being in your own bed on a Friday night, in the dinky apartment you share with your not-so-stellar roommate, is a feeling you’ve happily become unfamiliar with. You wish you were in Kishibe’s luxurious king-sized bed instead, snuggled in his strong arms, being kissed and licked all over. His gruff voice hot in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that make you melt.

Without thinking, you send him a text, simply stating I miss you. You don’t wait for a reply, distracting yourself with a show, surrounded by blankets and pillows to fill the void left by his absence. When did you become so needy?

On the verge of sleep, the vibration and ping of your phone stirs you awake. It’s almost 11 PM. Your heart flutters, hoping it’s your boyfriend. You’re surprised to see Himeno’s name on the notification.

It’s a picture of Kishibe, slumped over at a table, clearly drunk. His other colleagues pose beside him, some waving peace signs, others sticking their tongues out, all of them holding beers. You chuckle at the image, happy to see all of them smiling and lively. Even if your boyfriend is intoxicated out of his wit’s end, at least you know he’s alive. Death is a new fear you’ve inherited since being seriously involved with a devil hunter. You spend every waking moment together, treating it like it’s your last, because you never know if it is.

As you admire the photo, you suddenly get a call from the sender. “Hello?” you answer.

Himeno’s voice is soft through the speaker. “Hi there, friend. Did you like what I sent you?” You imagine her leaning on the wall outside the bar, preparing to smoke.

You laugh. “I do. Thank you for that. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“On the contrary, he was our source of entertainment tonight.” On the other end of the line, you hear the drag of her cigarette.

“Really?”

She lets out a puff before answering, “Yes. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing his girlfriend is.”

A rush of heat surrounds your cheeks, either from flattery or embarrassment. “What?”

“He kept gushing on and on about you, it was non-stop.”

“That doesn’t sound like Kishibe. Are you sure you’ve got the right one in there?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she chuckles. “To be fair, he’s had quite a lot to drink. And his tolerance has turned to shit. What’s up with that?”

You’ve recently noticed the subtle changes in his drinking habits. His flask stays on the dish rack all weekend, coincidentally whenever you’re visiting. He rarely orders liquor when you’re out to dinner. He only indulges in a bottle of wine the two of you share occasionally over a home-cooked meal.

“I don’t know,” you answer, not wanting to admit anything on Kishibe’s behalf.

You hear her hum in response, taking another hit of her cigarette. “I think it’s because he’s happy. He doesn’t need to forget anymore because he’s got you.”

The words hang tight in your throat, leaving you speechless.

She giggles faintly, aware of the depth her statement holds. “Anyways, I called in case you want the address to our hotel. Master is staying in the room right next to mine. Given the state he’s in, he may need his lovely girlfriend to take care of him.”

You think about this for a minute, still reeling over her touching sentiment just a few seconds ago. Before you can refuse, she offers, “I’ll call you a cab and charge it to work. Consider it a service you’re fulfilling for Public Safety, assisting our highest ranked Devil Hunter.”

Eventually, you agree, thanking her for the idea. She chats with you a while longer as you hastily pack a gym bag with all the essentials, excited to reunite with Kishibe. You hang up with her once you’re out of the apartment, cab already waiting for you. Ten minutes to your destination, you text Himeno your status, allowing her time to bring him back to the hotel to meet you.

You’re waiting in the lobby when you hear the doors open to see Kishibe hunched between Himeno and another colleague. Her face lights up when she sees you, prompting her to nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, Master. Guess who’s here?”

He lifts his head up slowly, eyes completely blitzed, as he rasps, “Huh?”

You approach them, grinning from his ridiculous expression. It takes a while for him to process, blinking rapidly, as if correcting his vision. When he finally realizes it’s you, he stands up a little straighter and whispers your name.

“Surprise,” you say, waving in front of him.

He repeats your name again, removing himself from his coworkers to wrap his arms around you. The smell of liquor is intense, indicating just how drunk he really is.

“I guess our work here is done,” Himeno smirks. “I think Master is in good hands now. Let’s go, Arai.” She passes you the key card to the room, giving you one last wink before they leave towards the elevators.

“Kishibe, let’s go to the room now,” you tell him, his body drooped over you.

“Don’t leave me,” he whines, voice husky from inebriation.

“I’m not, we’re going to your room together,” you explain, rubbing his back. “Can you walk with me to the elevator?”

He nods languidly, dragging his feet beside you as you make your way up to his room. Inside, he immediately shrugs his overcoat off and collapses into bed face first. You sit at the end of the bed, patiently removing his shoes from his feet.

In the bathroom, you soak a small bath towel in warm water, wringing out any excess liquid. You grab a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and crack it open, pouring it into a glass for easy access. Kishibe grunts into the pillow as you sit beside him, rolling him over so he’s face up. When he sees you, he grins. “Am I dead?”

“Of course not, sweetie,” you answer, placing the warm towel on his forehead, gently pressing your palm on top.

“Then why is there an angel here with me?” He lifts his arm to point at you.

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your sleeve. “The only thing that’s ridiculous is how fucking beautiful you are.” He lays your hand on his cheek, nestling into your palm like a puppy. It’s a side of him that you’ve seen brief glimpses of, but never to this extent.

“You’re drunk,” you tease him, tapping your thumb at his chin.

“Drunk in love,” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Love. Maybe you’re both too old to put such meaning into words. There’s no doubt that it’s there, never admitted out loud. Why bother saying it when it’s so obvious?

You caress his cheek, tracing the scar that you love so much. He’s told you the story behind it more than once, each time, a new detail added that you tuck away into your treasure box of him in your brain.

You love everything about him. His past, his present. Flaws and perfections, or the lack thereof. He’s rough around the edges, definitely not sugar-coated, even a bit intense. His immense strength is hidden beneath his stoic demeanor, reserved specifically to hunt devils, never fully revealed to you. Still, you feel safe with him, as if all potential dangers are thwarted in his mere presence. You’ve heard it enough to know that he’s a force to be reckoned with, a serious outlier in a job where young people die and growing old doesn’t exist. He’s the exception.

And you’re the same for him. A life beyond the confines of devil hunting. An escape that doesn’t involve a bottle. A chance at normalcy in a world where nothing for him is normal. It almost never happened. The first night you met, he warned you about his lifestyle, watched you walk away for your own sake. And now, you’re the exception.

He gazes at you with half-lidded eyes, still intoxicated, but fully aware. Smiling, he whispers your name. “I love you.”

You stare at him, startled by his candid confession. The words are on the tip of your tongue, easy and effortless, because you truly feel it. But you don’t say it back, thinking he’ll forget this conversation in the morning. You want it to be special, not in the midst of his drunken stupor.

So, you keep quiet, gradually removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his belt. After you change and brush your teeth, you return to him, coaxing him into drinking water, which he does, before you both settle under the covers, cuddling. Eventually, he falls asleep, you following him soon after.

In the morning, you wake up to Kishibe caressing your cheek, delicately petting your temple. He’s turned towards you, shirtless and smiling. “Good morning, princess.”

You bite your lip, happy to see him. “Good morning.”

“You surprised me last night, didn’t you?” He pulls you in closer.

You burrow your face against his bare chest, last night’s booze almost completely worn off. “You can blame Himeno for that. She’s very convincing.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her. Somehow, she knew that I needed you.” He cradles you, kissing your forehead. “By the way, you owe me something.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

You look up at him. “You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispers, “I love you.”

The second time Kishibe says it, he’s completely sober. And this time, you say it back.

~~~

When he asks her to move in with him, he almost doesn’t go through with it.

It’s a Sunday morning. They’ve been dating for six months now, spending most of their time in his apartment, snuggled in his king-sized bed. She often complains about her place, the typical grievances of an adult woman living with a roommate she doesn’t particularly get along with. But it’s not her woes that convince him to ask her. It’s his own selfish desires.

He wants to wake up every single morning to her pretty face, to that warm smile that ignites every nerve in his body, that cute laugh that plays like the most majestic melody in his head. He doesn’t need drugs or caffeine to give him that energy boost. He needs her.

Today is different than other Sundays. She warned him the night before; she needs to leave early to attend to some roommate business. They’re having issues with the refrigerator, and she, apparently, needs to be there to deal with it.

They cuddle in bed, enveloped by blankets and body heat, kissing each other softly. This usually leads to something steamy, but not today. When she pulls away to get ready to leave, he’s disappointed, enough that he mutters, “Don’t.”

She turns to face him with a confused expression. “Don’t what?”

He pauses, doubting himself if this is the right moment, so he keeps quiet.

She returns to the bed, hopping on top of him, palms at his cheeks. “Don’t what, sweetie?”

“Don’t leave,” he musters, through gritted teeth.

Giggling, she nuzzles her nose against his. “You know I have to.”

“You don’t. Not if you live here with me.”

“Are you asking me to move in?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She squeals, smile incapable of being any bigger. The reaction he was hoping for. “Took you long enough. I can’t believe I get to live with you.” She kisses his scar, then his forehead. “My baby.” A smooch on the lips. “My new roommate.”

He keeps her there, kissing her deep, tongue slipping inside her mouth. She moans into him, grinding her hips on his lap.

��I’m taking this as a yes, then?”

She nods, sucking on his lower lip. “Mm-hm.”

“Don’t you have to meet your roommate soon?” he reminds her, slipping beneath her shirt to fondle her breasts.

“I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m going to be living with my boyfriend soon. She can get mad at me all she wants.”

He never gets sick of hearing her call him that. Her boyfriend. He’s hasn’t been anyone’s for the longest time. It feels good to be hers. “Are you still sore from last night?” He reaches his other hand down to rub her clit over her panties.

“A little bit,” she answers, scattering kisses along his neck.

“Let me eat it then,” he whispers, sucking on her ear lobe, slipping past the fabric to slide his finger up and down her folds. “Ride my fucking face. Give me my breakfast in bed. Want to eat this pussy until I’m full.”

It’s safe to say that the relationship with her old roommate is properly ruined this day, in favor of her new one.

~~~

Kishibe is the first to mention having kids.

A year into your relationship, he tags along to your niece’s birthday party. The mother, Hina, who is your best friend, has already met Kishibe on multiple occasions, but never in a setting like this. A children’s party is another level of crazy that even the insane devil hunter himself might not be able to bear.

After the usual round of greetings, your niece, Maki, immediately stands in front of him to peer at his face, curious. In his gruff voice, he greets, “Happy birthday, Maki,” proceeding to pat her awkwardly on the head.

She continues to stare at him, a glint of suspicion in her expression. “Are you an FBI agent or something?”

For some reason, he decided to wear his work attire to a children’s party. You’re trying to contain your laughter as he clears his throat to answer her. “Actually, I am a devil hunter.”

Maki’s eyes go round. “Devil…hunter…?”

“Yup.”

Without taking her gaze off of him, she starts yelling for all her friends, who come running immediately, all marveling at Kishibe. He glances at you, brows twitching slightly in concern. All you can do is grin at him, knowing he’s in for it.

For the next hour or so, the kids take advantage of this opportunity to entertain their premiere guest, challenging him to see how many of them he can carry at once, demanding to be shown his “special” moves, even go so far as to gnaw at his overcoat, acting like true devils. He takes it all in stride, his stoic expression cracking occasionally into the tiniest smile.

You sneak him a few slices of pizza as he bicep curls three of the kids, including birthday girl Maki. Before he eats, he gives you a smooch on the cheek, indicating that he’s actually enjoying himself.

From the other side of the room, you sit next to Hina, who’s carrying her other child, baby Kenji. You’re playing peek-a-boo when your friend asks, “So, do you think you and Kishibe will ever have kids?”

“We haven’t even talked about marriage yet, we’re for sure not thinking about kids.”

“You two don’t talk about that stuff?”

It’s been a year now since you’ve been with Kishibe, and it’s still going extremely well. You’ve been preoccupied with enjoying the relationship that you haven’t thought to discuss important matters yet. You shrug and answer, “No, not really.”

“Well, don’t you think you should bring it up?”

You think for several seconds before answering, “We’re taking it one step at a time. We’re fine where we’re at now.”

She gives you a look, as if she wants to say something else, but she ends up dropping it. Maki’s voice rings out from the living room, calling for her. “Oh shoot, can you hold Kenji for a bit? Maki needs me.”

You agree, holding your arms out to cradle him. He peers up at you with the whimsy and wonder that most babies radiate. You smile, finding a comfortable position to hold him in.

“You’re a natural.” You look up to see Kishibe standing in front you, a birthday hat on his head, probably forced there by the rugrats.

“And you’re a hit,” you reply, grinning. “The kids love you. Are you having fun?”

He removes his hat to place on you instead. “I don’t mind it.” He hovers over your face to give you a playful pinch on your cheek.

Kenji starts to fuss, to which you focus your attention back to him, cooing until he’s peaceful again. From your peripheral, you spot your boyfriend watching you intently.

“You’d make a good mother,” he states, quietly.

You look up at him, surprised by his statement. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look good like this,” he comments, nonchalant, as if he’s playing it off. You remain silent, still unsure how to respond.

Then, he comments, “I think we’d be good parents, you and I.”

“You do?” You beam at him, impossible now to contain.

“Yeah. We’d be great,” he reiterates, gazing at you with a soft, loving expression.

On the drive home from the party, Kishibe rests his palm on your thigh as he steers with the other. There’s a new vibe between you now, knowing that you’re both on the same page about having children. He actually seems excited about it.

Back at the apartment, after you put away all of the leftovers from the party, you both retreat into the bedroom to change. While you’re stripped almost bare, aside from your bottoms, he approaches you, hugging you from behind as he kisses your nape.

You giggle, craning your neck to face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers, grazing your ear with his lips.

“About what?”

“Making a baby with you.” His voice is low and sultry as his hands glide to your waist, slowly slipping under the elastic of your pajamas.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Mm-hm.”

His fingers find your pussy, rubbing the fabric against your clit. The other hand tugs your pants past your ass, causing them to fall to the floor, bunched at your ankles. You let out an exasperated moan, almost annoyed at his timing, but most definitely turned on. You lift your feet to shove your clothes away, reaching behind to palm his erection. Of course he isn’t wearing clothes, clad in only his boxer briefs, which are tight around his growing bulge. You’ve been ambushed, and you don’t know whether to be worried or horny. Probably the latter.

Within a minute, the two of you are naked on top of the bed, not bothering to lie under the covers. He kisses you all over your body, starting at your needy lips, dragging his tongue down to abdomen to nestle his face into your plush stomach. Seconds later, his mouth is surrounding your clit, swishing his spit, swirling his tongue, your whimpers filling the room. You spread your thighs wider, grabbing onto the top of his head, binding his hair into a fist to pull him off when it gets too sensitive. Though he never lets you, always relentless when he eats you out.

When you come, he slurps on your slick until he’s satisfied, dipping his tongue deep into your pussy walls, collecting every drop of you into his mouth. Once he’s finished, he climbs on top, kissing you on the lips, still wet with your arousal, tasting it for yourself. You wrap your fingers around his hard cock, stroking him before he stands at the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him to position himself in front of you. You hear him open the bedside drawer, retrieving the regularly used bottle of lube, the snap, squelch, and click a familiar sound.

He guides his dick into you slowly, pulling away at the slightest resistance, only to thrust back in gently. Your cunt squeezes around him as he fucks you, bent over your chest to suck on your nipples simultaneously. Without warning, he releases you from his mouth to hoists your legs up onto his shoulder, cock plunging farther into your pussy.

Surprised, you cry out, “Kishibe!”

His eyes are wild, an animal in heat, fucking you harder and deeper. “I want to fuck a baby in you just like this. Breed you until you’re round in your belly.” He slides his palm over your stomach, stroking around your navel. “Right here.”

There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, your throat dry from the excessive moans he’s drawing out from you. All you can do is take it.

“You fucking love this, don’t you? I’ll be such a good daddy to you and our baby,” he grunts.

You nod your head erratically, babbling, “Fuck, I want that so bad. I want that so bad, daddy.”

He chuckles, breathing staggered. “You like calling me daddy now, knowing I’m going to breed you. Knowing I’m going to give you my fucking seed.” He’s hitting your sweet spot over and over, fingers rapidly toying with your clit.

“Fuck, right there!”

“Daddy’s hitting it good, huh? Giving it to you so fucking good. Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all of my daddy cum, isn’t that right, princess?” He huffs filthy words at you, completely immersed in whatever carnal instinct is controlling him in this moment.

You tremble all over, skin hot with passion as you climax. He pumps his cock into you, spilling his load until his balls are emptied out. He pulls out slowly, watching his creamy cum leak out of your slit, enjoying it like a masterpiece that he helped paint.

He lies beside you, both of you calming down from your orgasms. “Was that too much?” he asks, rubbing your belly again.

“No. It was great,” you reassure him, smiling as you cover his hand with yours, entwining your fingers. “Didn’t think you’d have a baby fever all of a sudden.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids. Not since recently.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because now I have a chance at a life like that. I never knew that was possible for me until I met you.”

Your heart swells at this, blinking your eyes to rid any residual or oncoming tears. You lean close to kiss him softly on the cheek. “I love you, Kishibe.”

“I love you too, princess.”

~~~

He proposes on a sunny afternoon in the middle of the week during spring. Cherry blossom season.

A few months ago, on a whim, they went ring shopping, for shits and giggles. She got her finger sized, which he noted, and she gazed at a particular ring for a good two minutes, a twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable. He knew that was the one, just as he knows that she is the one.

He bought it two weeks later, and since then, it’s been in his pocket, rolling around in there for months now. He’s been close a few times already, grazing the box with his fingers, ready to whip it out during an especially romantic moment. Still, it never felt right.

That is, until today.

They’re both on their lunch breaks, walking off their meal at a nearby park, fingers interlaced seamlessly. This has become routine for them, something they’ve become used to. But every time, he craves it more and more. The intimacy of it. The normalcy of it. He’s getting accustomed to feeling human, and not solely a devil hunting machine. And it’s all thanks to her.

It’s been two years now, living together in domestic bliss, practically inseparable, aside from their day jobs. He’d carry her around in his pocket if he could, or he’d shrink himself down to be in hers. Either way, he wishes they were always with each other.

He’s become a man dependent on a woman. If you’d ask him three years ago if he’d ever become like this, he’d scoff and deny it. Now, he doesn’t bat an eye to admit it. He’s fucking needy, and unashamed about it.

They are by no means perfect. A relationship without flaws doesn’t exist in the real world. They argue, as regular couples do, but never going to bed angry. No matter who’s right or wrong, they both listen to each other and talk it out. What he loves about her is that she’s neither a dream nor a fantasy; she’s real. Perfectly imperfect, just as he is. He never has to worry about waking up and finding out it was his imagination all along. He knows she exists by the way her body feels around him, the warmth of skin against his, the lingering scent of her shampoo on the pillows and sheets. Bits and pieces of her scattered through their apartment, mixed with traces of him, combining into a beautiful, cohesive mess.

Kishibe never considered himself a sentimental person, not until her. Now, everything has meaning. Nothing is too little or insignificant to cherish. Movie stubs, blurry polaroid pictures, a Dirty Thirty! sash and sparkly tiara still hanging on the corner of the vanity. It’s reminders that their time together has never been wasted, especially when life can be cut short in any moment.

They find a park bench to sit at, watching soft, pink petals float lazily through the breeze. She rests her head on his shoulder, observing all the blossoms falling from the trees. “I wish we could stay like this forever. I don’t want to go back to work.”

He squeezes her hand, hoping his palms aren’t sweating. “Me too.” It’s rare for Kishibe to be nervous, but for some reason, he is. In his pocket, he feels for the vechalvet box, housing the ring. Second guessing himself if this is really right.

“Let’s run away. Quit our jobs and live off the grid,” she teases. It’s not the first time she’s joked about it. They often do, wishing they could neglect the responsibilities of the real world to indulge in each other endlessly.

“Why don’t we get married first. Then we’ll plan our escape.”

“We’re practically married, aren’t we?” She nuzzles her cheek against him. “I already consider you my husband.”

He swallows hard, adrenaline coursing this his veins. The moment finally here. “Let’s make it official then.”

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, as mundane as the last, when Kishibe asks her to marry him. It becomes the most special day of his life because she says yes.

--------------------

End Notes: Thank you all for reading this Kishibe fic! I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Taglist: one of my fave people on here @liliorsstuff-blog! thank you for always showing me love and supporting me, love you! 💜

#kishibe #kishibe csm #chainsaw man #kishibe smut #kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #kishibe x y/n #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #csm kishibe #kishibe brainrot #chainsaw man kishibe #dirty thirty #primetime

299 notes · View notes

skzstoryvault · 6 days ago

Text

Into the Earth (Hyunjin - just Hyunjin :P)

Hyunjin x f!reader

multi-chapter fic

happens a few years in the future

Hyunjin is in his post-idol era. Working as an artist and fashion icon.

Warnings: mentions of scamming, dishonesty, abusive people and various kinds of abuse, parasites (and not the Bong Joon Ho clever kind), misogyny (but not Hyunjin!), ageism. Nudity (Hyunjin). More to be added with later chapters.

Hyunjin takes a bath and has some thoughts(TM)

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real persons depicted here. They all deserve the world.

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

This story was finished but since no one is reacting to it in any way, I decided to scrap the unpublished parts and rewrite them. Since I'm the only one on the playground, might as well play a game I enjoy.

Story title is inspired by a Lorna Shore song

Part 7

Part 8. Mindfields

Now, he doesn’t have any thoughts besieging his mind, no worries gnawing at him and certainly no stress. Going into town with you, getting to ride in your car and singing along to the radio tunes together, plus the painkillers he got prescribed have him feeling blissful already.

But he holds and strokes his cock like he’s only now remembering there’s something else it can do for him. Something that now spreads all through his body, across his skin, all the way to his scalp and the soles of his feet. He can’t touch everywhere though, not at the same time, and this will just be faster and more comfortable. His fingers travel further down between his legs, circling around his hole, chasing the exhilaration of maybe getting to pull the electricity coursing through him out through there. As usual, he remembers where he is and reins himself in - that’s for when he’s alone in his own home, without the risk of anyone walking in on him. There was this bottle of your shower gel on the edge of the tub, shaped… way too fortunately and giving him ideas, but that will have to stay an idea for now. With his luck, it will completely slip in and he will lose it up there, having to come crying to you for help. And with how much you fret over him, you’ll take him to the ER for a very, very undignified consultation.

For a while, he just focuses on the rising warmth inside him, and how good the mere gentle friction feels. But then, thoughts of you flood his mind, like a reel ahead of a tv show. It’s like the elation is tiding high inside him and he is scrambling to contain it and prevent it from spilling, but it keeps rising past his ability to rein it in. The knowledgeable way you run the farm. The way you’re always nice and upbeat. How you insist on working alongside everyone else whenever you don’t have pressing matters to handle from the office. How he’s never seen how long your hair actually is, because you keep it tied up under a floral headwrap. How excited he got when it was warm out and you popped three buttons on your work coveralls, revealing the slightest bit of cleavage and the fact you had a sports bra on. He is again at the point where, just like when he was a teen, the mere prospect of boobs being present in his general vicinity excites him. Then there are the movie nights in your living room. Everyone sitting piled up like puppies, eating snacks and talking animatedly, just like back in the day with Stray Kids, only with considerably less screaming. It’s so cosy and intimate, even though sixteen people and three dogs on a huge sectional and some pillows is a crowd. Hyunjin loves how everyone treats him - even though no one here knows or cares he’s known worldwide and rich, he is still babied and taken care of. He actually feels that he is loved for who he is and what he does, not for the appealing glow of fame. His mind goes back to you - to the way your skin smells whenever he is close to you and he can sneak a covert sniff - like ripe mangoes and fresh smoke, the kind he and the other men set in the orchard to burn the dead branches and leaves. To the softness of your skin when you held his hand in yours, to how you seem to care about everyone working here and to how you told him that you knew who he was and what he’d been but didn’t treat him differently after finding out.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how, but you got under his skin, although he’s never looked at a woman like that and hasn’t had many interactions with Western women to begin with. But you manage to inspire authority without being stern and you are caring without being overbearing. It just makes him feel safe and taken care of here with you and the rest of the farm fam. That’s a feeling he’s often had thanks to Chan in the past, but he’s had to settle for only one seventh of the love and care Chan had to give. You make him feel like when your attention is on him, it’s his and his only and that makes him feel wanted and seen; it turns him on, too.

He slips further down in his mind, and his thoughts carry him away with his eyes closed. The world around him takes on a dark yellow tint, a bit unsettling like some arthouse horror movies he’s seen, and he sees you in the middle of the fields, like a witch, old and powerful, with impossibly long hair and long claw-like nails, weaving a web of silver threads that turn black when your hands touch them. Entangled in your web are nineteen figures, all scrawny and stick-like, looking charred and almost insubstantial, moving like in a hypnotic dance at the end of your strings. Hyunjin cannot tell if you are feeding on the figures at the end of the strings or if you are animating them with your life force. The fact that he can even recognise you in the central witch figure is also bothering him, but only marginally.

Slowly, his point of view changes and he realises he is one of the nineteen figures; he feels his own body, burning, with the skin charred and on the verge of turning into ash and smoke. Yet the joy he feels the more he sinks into that form grows the more he sinks. It makes him dance at the end of that thread like he’s never danced before in his life, with every one of his cells screaming for joy. Nothing hurts and nothing is out of place anymore. He turns to look at you and sees your hand reach for him, resting soothingly on the side of his neck, pulling him closer. Gasping, he comes closer, knowing what follows. Your kiss is not something he can survive at this point. Once you breathe his soul in, he will become a part of you and live in endless bliss forever, taken care of and harboured within a fortress of power no man can defeat. But your lips never meet his. Instead, they land on his forehead, then on his cheeks, and it’s cold, so cold, the feeling is unsettlingly real and fast as it washes over him and he feels himself turn to water and wash away.

He comes to in the tub, the water is cold and he’s come in it, the jizz mixing with the soapy suds and the skincare oils floating on the surface.

After a very careful shower, to prevent further falls and accidents, Hyunjin puts some clothes on and walks down the hall, intending to return to his room. But, when he walks past your door, the temptation is too big and he slinks in.

He has every intention to wait for you, lying invitingly on the covers, and seduce you, but sleep takes him before he even finishes his thought. In the morning, he stirs when he feels movement next to him. He finds himself bundled under a blanket, and sees you stretch under the duvet, slipping out and sitting on the edge of the bed for a bit.

He pretends to still be asleep to study you for a while longer and to avoid your possible anger at his cheekiness for invading your bed.

He hears your bare feet pad over to the bathroom and he stretches leisurely, feeling warm and comfortable under the blanket you placed on him during the night. He even dozes off again, lulled by the familiar sounds of the farm in the morning.

“Wake up, cutie. We’re all alone for the day and I made breakfast.” Hyunjin hears you say in his ear after you move some of his hair out of the way and lean down to kiss his exposed cheek.

Warmth spreads all through him. He hasn’t been woken up so gently since he was a child. And the fact that you chose to wake him up in a nice way instead of just slamming a door or being loud to make sure he cannot easily continue sleeping… it warms Hyunjin’s long iced-over heart.

He showers with your shower gel in the big bathroom, putting on casual clothes, not work ones, before coming downstairs, to the kitchen, to see if you need help.

16 notes · View notes

nutkick · 1 month ago

Text

i plead the fifth: a retrospective

to honor finishing my first ever longfic, i thought i'd start a new tradition of answering this tumblr questionnaire as a final goodbye to such a big project! questions and answers are under the cut <3

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

i first had the idea for i plead the fifth (IPTF) simply for the drama tbh. i already had two installations into a long drag (ALD) and wanted to explore the characters and world i had been building in a bigger way. lethal company already had a "format" for me to follow, which each day of a quota being dedicated to whatever planet you landed on, ending with a stop at the company, so that's how i structured the fic!

2: What scene did you first put down?

the first scene i had in mind was the ending of the very first chapter, actually! here's what i jotted down in a message: speedy plays nice in front of everyone, but the moment him and platy are alone he threatens him

3: What's your favorite line of narration?

hard choice, but probably chapter 6's jester encounter:

“You fucked me,” Speedy pointed an accusatory finger at it. “What happened to being buddies?” The Jester remained silent for a moment, as if contemplating Speedy’s words. And then, its hand raised to its crank and started turning.

one of my friends and betas (drill my beloved <3) particularly loved this line:

The Jester regarded him with what Speedy might ascribe as curiosity, tilting its aluminum casing to the side.

as she says: it could be curiosity. and yet its the most dangerous creature in this place by far. it could be curiosity. you hope it is.

4: What's your favorite line of dialogue?

another really hard choice, god... the dialogue in chapter 7 was the most fun to write, especially the back and forth between chilled and larry:

“That wouldn’t stop me! He wouldn’t need the dick pills, I’d fucking—“ “Larry!” Chilled chastised, still laughing. “You can’t say that!” “What? Don’t be jealous!” Chilled leaned back and cackled. “That’s not what I-“ Larry slammed his fist down on the stand. “I said I’d fuck everyone else, that includes you!” “This is a court of law!” Chilled cried. It fell on deaf ears as Larry doubled, tripled down.

5: What part was hardest to write?

chapter 8 in it's entirety, honestly. the payoff in the previous chapters was easy, wrapping it all up in a neat conclusion while simultaneously leaving some things open-ended for future continuations was so much harder. i think it added to the fic, though: nothing ever ends as perfectly and neatly as we'd like it to.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

well, one, it's like, 37k words... i typically write one-shots, this is my first real attempt at a longfic. i know, some authors drop 300k word fics, but i basically just wrote double what i've posted on ao3 in one work!

7: Where did the title come from?

the song "kaleidoscope eyes" by panic! at the disco. it's from a b-side on the album "vices and virtues". (of course i'm a p!atd fan, i was born in the 2000s. some habits die hard...)

i could ramble on about how the b-sides on this album are as good or in some cases better then what got on the album, but the important part is the lyrics and the general vibe of the album as a whole.

There's a get out of jail card If I can think of something clever ... I'm just a crook, with no intent or stash Pour gasoline on the vault, just to burn the cash

like, is this not speedy? and the bit at the end where brendon urie psychs himself up for an evil laugh is so speedy-coded. (not brendon urie, fuck that guy)

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

youtuber rpf? being inspired by real people and events? i sure hope so... i originally got the idea for a speedy-platy homoerotic rivalry from speedy's among us videos. i can't find the exact video now, but speedy just dropped a video of him and platy at each other's throats for like 15 minutes. art truly imitates life.

characterization like junk being absent-minded, or kara being one to throw herself into work, those come from a combination of existing roleplays they've done (like kara being on smplive/smp earth, or chilled on purgesmp) or inside jokes within the group. basically, combining a bunch of details and my personal infallible interpretation of their streamersonas and making some interesting characters to put in the barbie doll house/torment labyrinth. y'know, usual rpf stuff.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

sort of! i had to move around events after chapter 3 because some things fit better a certain way. i also accidentally added an entire day by accident when i was drafting the story, that was funny. guy who can't count to 7

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

ALD has a lot of ships within it, but i think pr1 is a unique fandom in the sense that you can take any ship and make it work. even if there are some popular ships (zrc, speedarms), those weren't even started in pr1, those are legacy ships from the fandoms that collided to make pr1. arguably coldburger is the first pr1-specific pairing that didn't carry over, but that's kind of a different answer for this question. i've always had a bias for speedy since i started watched him at the beautiful age of like, 13? and he led me to find all of the other youtube groups i've grown up with. so it felt right making him the main character.

chilled is my second favorite, since purgesmp, and i like putting that guy in situations. when lethal company came out (a year ago! wow time flies) it was the perfect concoction.

naturally, other ships followed: i couldn't not include some speedarms. background romances felt obvious, like the larry and side match-up is so right it'd feel wrong to not include it. and the speedy-platy romance was a given, i mean... fellas, is it gay to have a rival you hate but know everything about to the point where you can read his emotions like a book?

11: What do you like best about this fic?

the all of it? haha, i don't know, i love the entire process of fic writing. the planning, the drafting, the editing, the posting, silly shit like the playlist and this questionnaire. every aspect of this project has been enjoyable, most of all connecting with the fandom and other creatives with everything that inspired IPTF.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

probably the length of time in between the last few chapters. i had a lot pre-written, but it took one busy work week to completely derail the train... sigh.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn't listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

i actually have a playlist of songs that have directly or indirectly inspired ALD as a whole!

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

you probably shouldn't take moral lessons from my characters. that being said, we all put a little bit of ourselves in our writing, and my piece was learning to not torture myself with what-ifs and my own assumptions about the people around me and the way they feel you can't make people stop caring about you in the same way you can't force them to care about you. they either do or they don't. and it's up to both of you to communicate to either end

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

posting as you go is not my thing, so for future projects, i'll probably try to have a bigger buffer or maybe even the entire fic written? who knows!

also, i think i really refined my process, especially regarding editing. i gained a lot of confidence from posting my silly story, now i can post even sillier stories <3

#prediction master #a long dragposting

5 notes · View notes

spelllingandthemysteryschool · 1 year ago

Note

hello! what is your ranking of the rv title tracks, im curious to know, unless you've posted it before im sorry 😭

hi! 🌟 oh my goodness i spent quite a while on this because i am TERRIBLE at ranking things and i also had a lot to say... but here you go! disclaimer that i genuinely love red velvet’s discography to pieces and even the songs that are ranked lower on this list are among some of my favorites. i also decided not to include their japanese singles, solos, subunits, or sm station releases to make things a little easier for myself. you may notice that chill kill does not feature on the list & that’s because it hasn’t been out for long enough for me to ascertain my feelings towards it just yet! okay soooooo with all that out of the way . here are my thoughts 🦢

russian roulette - ONE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS OF ALL TIME. i got into red velvet immediately after hearing this back in 2016 & showed it to absolutely everyone i knew because i was so completely head-over-heels for it... i adore its playful synthiness and how bubbly and sweet their voices sound here, i LOVE its accompanying music video of course. when i think of kpop at its very best i think of russian roulette by red velvet!

automatic - i’m forever blown away by this song like it is literally perfect to me… smoldering, minimalist, effortlessly beautiful. i can’t believe they put this out so early in their careers, like genuinely what a feat. i love it so much

rookie - i feel like rookie is strangely underrated & i never understood why? it’s fun, it’s cute, it’s silly, it’s extremely loopable. really excellent instrumental imo and it shines even through their vocals… the strong bassline and brassy chorus in particular are highlights for me. also i think seulgi had a lot of fun this era in particular and it was so nice to see!

one of these nights - i absolutely love the creative direction of its music video & the song itself cemented rv as some of my favorite vocalists ever. easily one of their best title tracks, red or velvet. like it’s just perfect… melancholic and soulful and utterly magical

rbb (really bad boy) - i think this is one of their singles that best shows off their vocals… belting, shrieking, breathy whispering, chanting… the harmonization, the adlibs… so cunt, so interesting to listen to, so all over the place in the best way possible! no other group could have done it

umpah umpah - okay i personally feel that this is their best title track of the original festival trilogy in addition to their best summer single… never fails to lift my spirits, like it’s so joyful and unabashedly fun! i love that it sounds like it’s from a musical and i don’t mean that sarcastically at all

dumb dumb - literally one of the most unique kpop tracks like how many other songs can you think of that sound like this. still SO genuinely novel and exciting to listen to for its quirkiness and nonstop momentum that just builds and builds and builds

bad boy - very evocative of a particular moment in kpop but it aged like a fine wine! delicious to hear then & delicious to hear now… swaggering and silky and impeccably produced. i also think that the styling & sets for this music video were heavily imitated afterwards with songs of lesser quality from other groups. rv 🔛🔝

be natural - SO GOOD... sleek and sultry and understated. i also really love the way the music video is filmed and i think it belongs in the criterion collection. i’m ranking this a little lower than it deserves maybe by virtue of it being a cover rather than an original song and also because of taeyong’s rap

peek-a-boo - PEOPLE DIED. i feel like it’s almost impossible to listen to this without thinking of its music video—not at all a detriment because it’s a complete delight to watch. very catchy and clever and cool despite not being particularly upbeat. i feel like… again… it’s one of those songs where i can’t imagine a group other than red velvet putting out a comeback like this. it’s so them

feel my rhythm - love the structure of this song so much… brings together so many unexpected elements so elegantly. the noisiness caught me off guard a little bit when it came out but now i love the way they transition between the pots-and-pans quality of the verses and the orchestral ambience of the choruses. it really does feel like a frenetic, enchanting festival

power up - SO SILLYYYYY i’m a fan! i love songs with video game-inspired instrumentals & power up is one that’s fast and upbeat and summery and impossible not to dance along to. the japanese version in particular does something to my brain

birthday - i really did not like this when it first dropped but i enjoy it a LOT now… it feels like it’s building up to something it never really reaches but despite this i think it’s so catchy and bold & i love the sample the song is built around

ice cream cake - okay honestly very fun and i loved it back in the day but i don’t find myself listening to it a ton now... really enjoyed the collective blonde moment though & how ahead-of-the-curve they were with its noisy instrumentals!

queendom - i do think the lyrics can get a little corny and it’s not among their strongest title tracks, but it’s cute and easy listening vibes to me and there are some really wonderful vocal moments here and there!

psycho - good song but it was super overplayed a few years ago and it’s sonically not as interesting as their other singles. i know some people feel it’s their best but i don’t agree because i feel like i prefer songs with less muddied instrumentals. very quintessentially rv though, if that makes sense!

zimzalabim - was this a bad song… NO. do i like it that much… ALSO NO. the bridge is stunning though, one of their prettiest bridges ever, and i loved the satanism accusations that were flying around when it first dropped

red flavor - super popular, i know, and i do think it’s nice and nostalgic still, but i don’t feel it’s their best summer track and don’t actually listen to it all that much… oops. i love the twinkling sounds in the chorus but it has an empty and echoey quality to it at certain points that i find i’m not the biggest fan of

happiness - kind of a lackluster debut sorry... i do like the refrain and the pre-chorus though so the only time i ever seek out this song is when i wanna hear that bit... like yes joy! exactly joy!

#sorry for writing... um. over one thousand words. hehe #red velvet #asks

19 notes · View notes

volivolition · 3 months ago

Note

Helloooo hi <2 <3 we have. music for you again :3c

1. Bad Astrology by Flower Face!! cw for suicide being mentioned halfway through the song though!

REALLY good song, we've been waking up with it stuck in our head recently,, This is very much a Diamonds and Spades song™ tbh (they loooove Flower Face) personally I lov how blue it is and how the instrumence™ sound. Flower Face might be becoming one of our favourite musicians actually FJDJSKFKD

2. Counting Cards by Rainbow Kitten Surprise!

Ok this one's a favourite for a starmate that you'll probably neverrrrr meet HDJXJSKFKDSJ his name's JJ and he fronts. SO IRREGULARLY FJDJDJFJDJ

BUt!!! RKS is also one of our favourite bands collectively, they've got such a good range of music, from soft acoustics to heavier rock songs, they're awesome omg. This is a good one to get started with their discography imo! The singer's voice in this one is just wonderful and the guitar is very Brain Scratchy for us I love how repetitive it is!

It's ALSO very blue, bout the same dark shade as Bad Astrology actually, which is. Kinda funny, like I wonder what abt each song makes them so similar to each other that they're damn near the same shade synesthesia-wise if that makes sense JFNDSNFJD

also also also. We made you a playlist!! Of every song we've sent you so far! here's a link to it! It'll be updated w the newest song recs whenever you post our asks 👍 if you want us to like. change anything about the description or playlist title do let us know HCNXKZKC <2 wly! -Dark

HELLOO HI BELOVEDS!!! :3c WAUHGH yall are!! EVERYTHING TO ME HKJH thank you so much for making a playlist for me wahhh :'] i really truly appreciate it!!

Bad Astrology - YAYY FLOWER FACE!! thank you for the cw <33 i do associate Flower Face with Diamonds and Spades (and Clovers) like, every time hkgjh i love the beginning sorta synth sounds, its sounds like thrumming before all the instrumence surge in with the vocals, i love the singer's vocals as per ALWAYS, the delicate sound of the bridge(?) "Palisade honeymoon / I'll only see what you want me to see~" it's really gorgeous and quietly intent, the lyrics hurt my heart hkjh :'] <33

Counting Cards - [claps!!] oooh JJ song!! i saw yall talking about RKS earlier, hell yeah :] OH REAL, the guitar is VERY NICE i love the "du-du-du" motif hehe <33 the lyrics are very clever and i love how they're sung, it sounds so smooth?? but with a sadness to it. like a background tragedy, a side character aware that the story they're in ends sadly for them and singing knowing it. i love the slow-to-quick "fa-ay-ded by-y-y / in time withth'back'o'yo'bedam i…" is sung and the pitch UP on the "watch me murder… THIS~ ✨" like YES NICE!!!!! <33 i also think this a great intro to them, this is very cool!!

blue songs!! thats so interesting that both of them share similar shades of dark blue :o!! i think they both feel a bit melancholic, so this makes sense to me <33

AGAIN!! PLAYLIST!! WEEPS /POSITIVE HKGJH THANK YOU SO MUCH :']!!! yall don't have to change a thing, i think its perfectly lovely, brings me joy :'] <3333 <2222

#alas sorry my laptop restarted just was i was finishing up :'] i tried to rewrite my first impressions but they feel lesser than they were #do know that ive been humming ''picture me counting cards dear~'' over and over absentmindedly hkjgh #thank you all for. like!! everything hkjgh i love you all a lot and i appreciate yall always and i wish i could do more for yall <33 <22 #im happy to be your knight my beloveds!! yall are very special to me too <33 <22 #suggestion recommendation #volta transmissions #esprit: Euclydia

4 notes · View notes

crybabydraws · 1 year ago

Text

I just listened to Hozier's album Unreal Unearth and I'm gonna explode. Holy shit what an amazing album and what an incredible artist. Here are my first impressions I got from each song.

De Selby (Part 1) - Very pretty. A beautiful song to start this album. A wonderful taste of what's to come

De Selby (Part2) - FUNKY! I'll be taking this and I will be listening to it on repeat til I'm sick of it or dead. Whichever comes first (probably death tbh).

First Time - Just a simple love song (I'm lying). It doesn't really speak to me on any kind of existential level (still lying).

Francesca - What a lovely sonG OH HOLY SHIT- (Also the ending portion of this song is heavenly, pun intended)

I, Carrion (Icarian) - I could only think about Crowley and Aziraphale when this song came on. It fits them SOOO well! Anyways, gorgeous song!

Eat Your Young - The sound of this song is so awesome and sexy for a song that uses a clever parallel to Chronos to keep the Greek mythology theme to make it about sacrificing the next generation for money and power. I live for it.

Damage Gets Done - Hozier and Brandi Carlile's voices are so pretty together. This song sounds like running through a flower filled field with someone you want to be buried next to.

Who we are - This song speaks for itself and what it has to say is beautiful and painful as shit. I love this song.

Son of Nyx - The animated masterpiece that I made in my head to this song was incredible.

All Things End - "If there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right." GODAMN SO TRUE! This song is so nice. Accepting that everything will end while still keeping hope that we'll begin again UGH! I LOVE IT!

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe) - Beautiful. Incredible. I'm speechless. I also cannot believe that word is pronounced that way.

Butchered Tongue - This reads to me like a poetic love letter to language, music, and to Hozier's hometown. It goes over his personal experience with growing up in his hometown and appreciating it even more as he experiences other places and recognizes even more how it has affected him. That's what I got at least. Lovely song ofc.

Anything But - If the previous song was about the love of things that make us human and connect us like language, this song is about the feeling of wanting to be anything but human or, better yet, nothing at all. So cool. I love this man.

Abstract (Psychopomp) - When I listened to this song for the first time, I didn't really pay attention to the lyrics. I still teared up. I still haven't really looked at the lyrics and I'm still emotional about it. I love music. I love life. I love that I get to experience this with my ears. I love that I can appreciate it and understand it. GOD THIS ALBUM IS SO GOOOOD!!!

Unknown/Nth - This song with a math reference in the title makes me lose my mind in the best way. "Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you that I'd walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you." That might just be the most emotional line I've ever heard in my life jfc.

First Light - The melodies he is singing in this song do something to me. I ascend every time that pre chorus/chorus comes in. LIKE DAMN, IF I BREATHED IN THIS SONG, I WOULD SEE INFINITY!

I need to study the lyrics of all of these songs in an academic manner soon. I could only dream of the artistry that Hozier achieved here. This album will probably change my life.

#GODAMN HOZIERRRR!!!#ramblings #hozier #unreal unearth

22 notes · View notes

popentertainment-moviereviews · 5 months ago

Text

FLY ME TO THE MOON (2024)

Starring Scarlett Johansson, Channing Tatum, Jim Rash, Anna Garcia, Donald Elise Watkins, Noah Robbins, Colin Woodell, Christian Zuber, Nick Dillenburg, Ray Romano, Woody Harrelson, Bill Barrett, Stephanie Kurtzuba, Joe Chrest, Colin Jost, Greg Kriek, Art Newkirk, Peter Jacobson, Ashley Kings, Jonathan Orea Lopez, Christian Clemenson and Eva Pilar.

Screenplay by Rose Gilroy.

Directed by Greg Berlanti.

Distributed by Columbia Pictures. 132 minutes. Rated PG-13.

“Fly me to the moon / Let me play among the stars / And let me see what spring is like / On Jupiter and Mars / In other words, hold my hand / In other words, baby, kiss me.”

It would be nice if the romantic comedy Fly Me To the Moon were as simple, frisky and romantic as the song from which it took its title. Honestly, sometimes it does reach those heights, but it has too much going on plot-wise and not enough romance and comedy to keep its story airborne.

That’s a shame, because this is one of very few rom coms which will be widely released this summer. I was hoping that this film would ignite, but that only happens periodically.

Fly Me To the Moon captures a particular place and time in American history – Cape Kennedy, Florida on the eve of the 1969 Apollo 11 launch and man’s first walk on the moon. It has an interesting cast of characters – scientists, astronauts, marketing specialists, shady government agents, far right-wing politicians and egomaniacal Hollywood directors. It’s old-fashioned, and yet it has things to say about modern society as well.

So why does Fly Me To the Moon only sometimes reach lift-off?

Simply put, because they were trying to do too much. Added into the dish like an unnecessary spice is a whole section based on the old conspiracy theory that the moon landing was a fake made on a soundstage – quite possibly by Stanley Kubrick. (I will give Fly Me To the Moon props for a clever Kubrick gag in the middle of the action.)

This not-so-little subplot does not appear in the story until about an hour into the film, and honestly, it’s an unwelcome addition. Not only has the fakes space mission storyline been done way too often on film already – from the mostly forgotten but surprisingly good 1970s thriller Capricorn One to more recent films like Moonwalkers, Dark Side of the Moon and others. Hell, it was even a quick sight gag in Minions, which may be proof positive that this story is overdone.

To be quite honest, I think Fly Me To the Moon would have worked better had they simply jettisoned that storyline and had done a straight romance around the NASA launch of Apollo 11. The faking story makes more than one of the main characters look bad on a regular basis. Sure, it does give more ammunition to Woody Harrelson playing the shadowy Nixon operative behind the scheme – and Woody is very funny here – but he was very funny well before this plot thread was introduced. They could have found more for him to do in the original narrative.

Because what Fly Me To the Moon is really about – or at least it was until the storyline took that hard right turn – was the timid romance between two very different types of people who meet working on the leadup to the launch.

The woman is Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson), a smart, flirty and somewhat cynical public relations professional who has a sketchy past and some questionable methods. She has been hired by the government to start a buzz on the space program, which is still reeling from the tragic explosion of Apollo 1 a couple of years earlier. She has the hair of an astronaut’s wife, blood red lips and the va-va-voom pants suits and capris of a pin-up girl – all of which she uses to disarm the sexist guys she always has to deal with in business.

The guy is Cole Davis (Channing Tatum), the rather humorless former-aspiring-astronaut and scientist in charge of the mission. You can tell how button-down Cole is because throughout the length of the film he wears the exact same style of shirt – just in different colors. (He also has an odd-modern looking short-but layered haircut which is far from the crew cut which someone in his position would have worn.) You can also tell that he is repressed because the first time he meets Kelly – in a local diner – he acknowledges she is the most attractive woman he has ever seen. Still, he cock-blocks himself, telling her that he can’t get involved with anyone because of bad timing and the importance of his job.

I guess we should look at the elephant in the room here. While Johansson and Tatum are both undoubtedly gorgeous, they have very little chemistry together. This is mostly on Tatum’s side – and it may not even be the actor’s fault, it may just be the role as written. Still, it is a little hard to root for a happy-ever-after for these two.

However, taking a look at the space program at the height of its importance is endlessly fascinating. Had they maintained the view at the actual space landing rather than showing the less interesting attempts to recreate it, Fly Me To the Moon may have been something special. Instead it is a fairly good movie which had the potential to be very good.

Jay S. Jacobs

youtube

#Fly Me To the Moon #2024 #Movie Review #Scarlett Johansson #Jay S. Jacobs #Youtube

4 notes · View notes

anotherescsite · 7 days ago

Text

Let's talk about this year's Junior Eurovision. Why? Because I am bored and I have no life. And even though there are children and some of them are shrill, there are also gems.

I'm not going to go through all of the songs. Everyone knows that some entries were disastrously bad and in order to stay civil with you all, I'm going to refrain from pointing them out. There were some songs that should have been disastrous and the talent kept it together. I'm just going to do a top 5.

youtube

It didn't do so well, but I like it. I like that it has an urban setting to go with the title. I like the performance and the atmosphere of the song. I like Annabelle too. I like the sound of her voice with the song and how it is performed.

youtube

It shouldn't work, but it does. The four kids can sing and perform. They all had a part and there was cohesion. They had clever choreography and a good use of the stage and props They had garment changes which is unheard of in Junior Eurovision and it all went well. Crowd participation worked well too.

youtube

The other three songs are the songs of the top three. They each deserved a high place and sadly only one of them could win.

Ukraine was third, having come second in both the jury and televote. He was probably the most animated person in the Juniors this year and he has pipes to sing. The choreography with the door frames was so simple and so genius to highlight the song. The song was a bit repetitive.

youtube

Before the song contest, I didn't think this would do anything. Another Georgian entry not living up to their successes of the past. On stage, it was a different story though. Well presented, well sung, considered choreography and a nice staging. Good work.

youtube

The only reason I tuned in to the Juniors is because I expected the first Portuguese winner in the festival. She wrote the song by herself. No one else did that this year. It won the televote and it very much says everything.

Victoria was breath taking, captivating and on point for three minutes. Poised - there are adults who do not such excellent presentation. And I must stress - she is 13 years old and performed this well. Wait 10 years and see what she can produce.

#esc #eurovision #junior eurovision 2024 #madrid #spain #Youtube

2 notes · View notes

goodluckdetective · 9 months ago

Text

TUMBLR VERSION

FIC: SLEEPING GIANTS 1/2

Ship: Durge/Astarion

Fandom: BG3

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore

Rating: M

AO3

Summary:

Astarion earns his freedom covered in Cazador’s blood. The Former Chosen of Bhaal earns their freedom drowning in their own. A look at two different aftermaths of breaking free.

Notes:

Hello and welcome to whatever this is. Like one part “the horror of being controlled and falling in love with someone who knows that same horror” one part “you can kill the puppeteer but the scars from the strings don’t leave as soon as you cut them” one part “the game doesn’t have time for a long introspection after these two big scenes but that’s why fanfic writers exist” and one part “uses durge and Astarion as character foils and enjoys the light bouncing back and forth.” The background ships are very background which is why they aren’t in the main tags. The title comes from the Crane Wives Song of the same name. This is two chapters but each can be read on their own. The second chapter I'm aiming to have up in like two weeks max? (I also want to shoutout edelgarfield's series "cardinal, sunrise, morning star" which gave me the idea to do the Urge sections in second person. It's fantastic and you should read it.)

FIC BELOW:

Ever since Rune heard the name Cazador Starr, they’d thought about killing him.

It was a nice use of channeling the Urge when it got bad, turning the desire to tear and maim onto a worthy target. Rune had pictured casting hold monster to hold the man in place while they’d cast lightning bolt right between Starr’s eyes. They’d considered using insect plague and watching as bugs tore the man apart piece by piece as he screamed for death that wouldn’t come. Once they’d learned how to cast Daylight, they’d smiled at the mental image of forcing the vampire lord to stick his head directly into the sphere.

Like Rune’s other urges, they resisted acting on them (though they did relish casting Daylight right in front of Starr’s face). But that resistance was only so Astarion could get the kill instead. It was his to have; Rune was not going to take it from him unless they were asked to.

(If Astarion had died, if you had failed to get him free before the dark ritual completed, then Cazador Starr would be dead by your hand. You would ensure he lived long enough to know the agony he deserved. You’d kept Bonedaughter’s notes about what she’d done to you, back in Moonrise. One could get very clever with torture when someone refused to die. You thought of taking inspiration from the kennels, when you’d looked at the history of your lover’s suffering and saw potential instead-)

Rune pushed the thought out of their head and shook off the sneer that started to creep across their face. They had to keep it together, keep the Urge under lock and key. Astarion, who was currently covered in the blood of his 200 year nightmare, could not afford for Rune to lose it.

They watched as Astarion wept on the stone tiles, wanting to embrace him but knowing it might not be wanted. Instead, they stepped close enough so if Astarion desired, he could easily reach out and touch them. They didn’t get a chance to see what he would choose because the rest of Astarion’s siblings came to greet them. As the matter of settling the spawn was resolved and the fate of the Gur’s children revealed, Rune spoke only to clarify events and back up whatever Astarion decided. It wasn’t until they made it out of the palace that they said anything somewhat resembling an order, and even then, they chose each word with care.

“We can call it a day after this if people need it,” Rune said, looking at Astarion. Everyone needed the rest, they were all exhausted, but Rune would not force such a thing. Should Astarion wish to keep going, Rune would send Shadowheart and Karlach back to camp before sharing a list of tasks that were mostly errands, but essential ones; buying potions, collecting materials. Things Astarion could do with shaky hands and an unsteady step. He wasn’t physically hurt, Shadowheart had ensured that. Should Astarion need to keep busy, to put off the part of the day where he could sit down and take it all in, then Rune would ensure he had it.

Rune was well practiced quieting their own loud thoughts with busywork.

Astarion agreed to the rest, and Rune mentally filled away their list of busy tasks for later. Instead, the party headed back to the Elfsong where they had decided to set up camp ever since Astarion’s siblings tried to drag him back. It wasn’t as good as a private residence, but vampires would still need to be invited into their rooms should they wish to enter, and that was far better security than the open air. With Cazador dead, they could save some coin by camping outside again, but Rune knew Astarion would want some privacy, and that was better obtained in their shared rooms.

As they approached the Elfsong, Rune took a look at their partner. Astarion had put his armor back on, but he was still drenched in blood. That would draw some attention, even in a place used to mercenaries.

Back in the mansion, between freeing the spawn and running into the Gur, Rune had handed him each piece of armor after Astarion asked for them. They watched as Astarion struggled to secure the clasps and resisted the urge to help, knowing they needed Astarion to ask for their assistance first, less they bring back memories Astarion wished he could forget.

“Shadowheart, Karlach, go ahead,” Rune said. Karlach tilted her head, and when Rune nodded, she grabbed Shadowheart’s shoulder. They departed inside the tavern, Karlach pulling the door behind her so it didn’t slam shut. Astarion didn’t even notice them leave. Frankly, he didn’t seem to notice anything at all, a wide eyed blank expression to his face that Rune was horribly familiar with. Rune reached for the clasps on their cloak and released it from their armor, before holding it out to Astarion. He turned to look at them, but that vacant expression was still there, like he was looking through Rune rather than at them.

“To hide the blood a bit, until we get to our rooms,” Rune explained, lifting the cloak higher. “So people don’t stare.” They would have cast invisibility on him, but they’d burned through most of their energy entering the mansion and fighting Cazador. If they knew it wouldn’t upset Astarion later, they would overextend themselves and cast it anyway.

(You cast far more spells than you should have, hoping for a brief glimpse of fear on Cazador’s face when your lightning bolt tore through his assembled minions. You’d hoped he knew what you were, you saw the book in his chambers after all; he’d been reading about Bhalspawn. Would he know what he’d brought down upon himself, for treating Astarion as a stain on his shoe? Would he realize you were the most dangerous thing in his manor turned tomb? )

Astarion’s gaze sharped and he took a quick breath in, like he’d been rapidly thrust back into his body from wherever he’d mentally gone. Rune forced themself away from the Urge in tandem. He took the cloak and wrapped it around himself, putting up the hood. It was a little large on him, Rune was taller than the vampire by half a foot, but in these circumstances, that was ideal. Rune heard him mumble something that sounded like a thank you.

He didn’t need to thank them: not for this. Rune held out a hand, should Astarion want to grab it, and when he didn’t, lowered it without comment.

“Let’s go straight to the room. Follow me.”

The Elfsong was loud and boisterous at this hour, people settling in for the evening. A bard played a jaunty tune on their fiddle on one of the stages and Rune briefly wanted to smash their instrument for daring to be so cheerful. No one paid them much mind as they went directly to the stairs and headed up to the rooms on the second floor. The room to the main suite was open and Rune glanced at everyone as they walked inside. Everyone else was crammed inside the small space, almost comically so, paying attention to Shadowheart who was talking in a low whisper. Likely explaining what happened in the depths of the Starr palace.

Rune walked past the group, shaking their head at everyone inside before Astarion followed behind them. Their room was close to the entrance and Rune closed the door behind Astarion as soon as he was inside.

“Alright, we’re here.” Rune took a look at the tiny room and their gaze went instantly to the wooden bathtub in the far right corner. It was an extra cost to obtain at the Elfsong, but given everyone hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks, it was worth the coin. Rune didn’t really get much out of baths, they didn’t find the way of bathing relaxing with the Urge constantly humming in the background, but they understood how it might be appealing to someone who didn’t deal with their particular affliction. They turned back to Astarion. He wasn’t quite looking through everything anymore, but he still seemed lost, his gaze darting all over the room.

“If you want, I can run you a bath. For the blood.” Rune regretted the addition as soon as it left their mouth. What else would the bath be for? Stupid, stupid. “Would you like that?”

Astarion snapped his head up to look at them. When he spoke, his tone was as sharp as his fangs. “I can run my own bath, I’m not an invalid.”

Rune expected this at some point; the deflection, the attempt to hide away his own wounds by lashing out at others. They didn’t take the bait, instead focusing on their main point.

“That’s not an answer.”

The fight drained out of Astarion in an instant. His shoulders drooped, a sigh escaping his lips. He looked so very tired.

“Yes, you may,” he said and with that, Rune got to work.

The wooden tubs at the Elfsong were enchanted, which Rune suspected was why they had such a high rental price. By activating the cantrips on the side, one could fill or empty the tub with water without going to the task of bringing water up from the kitchen. Heating said water was another matter, and for that, Rune’s magical powers would suffice. They stuck their hand into the water once it filled the tub and cast Prestidigitation. Steam came off the top of the surface, not hot enough to burn but enough to be pleasant, and they removed their hand, wiping off the excess water onto their robes. When they turned to Astarion, he’d already peeled himself out of his armor, but his smallclothes remained. Rune gestured to the tub.

“Alright, it should be fine.” They got back onto their feet and took a step away from the tub. “I can wait outside if you want, or go downstairs.”

Rune would prefer to stay, if this was their decision to make. Not to gaze at Astarion’s body, but to be able to remind themselves that he was alive, that the ritual had failed.

There was a moment, back at the manor, when Rune thought it was all over. When they’d looked to their side to see Astarion gone, suddenly across the room in the same hellish bindings as his fellow spawn. In that instant, before Astarion screamed at them to free him, they’d feared the ritual was done, that Cazador had succeeded. That all that would remain of a man who responded to their heritage with empathy and stole them extra ink for their journal was their memories and the cruel visage of Cazador Starr.

No, Rune would rather stay. Here, they could easily remind themselves how things had actually gone. But should Astarion want them to go, they would. They would walk downstairs, order a pint of ale, and rely on their faulty memory to remind them.

Astarion walked over to the tub and poked the surface of the water. It rippled, and he looked down in it, like he thought he could see his own reflection if he waited long enough. After a moment, he looked back to Rune.

“Stay?”

Rune nodded and went to pull over a chair to sit in as Astarion fully undressed and got in the water. Before they sat down, they grabbed Astarion’s armor and pulled it over to the chair. After they were seated, they got started casting prestidigitation on Astarion’s armor. The blood came off easily enough and when they were done, they looked up at the vampire. Astarion was sitting in the tub, knees curled up to his chest, and wiping blood off his arms. It turned the water a light pink.

“Want me to talk or no?” Rune offered, noting a distant look creeping back into Astarion’s eyes.

“Talk. Please not about-“ Astarion cut off, shuddering. “Anything else.”

Rune wracked their brain for an appropriate topic. Anything related to the Gortash, Bhaal or the Elder Brain was a bad idea. Magical theory could work, Rune was picking up a bit from Gale, but they would rather not bore Astarion to death. After some consideration between choosing one of Volo’s stories to mock (potentially fun, but then they’d have to go to the effort to remember one of his stories) or Rune’s thoughts on the decor of the Elfsong (alright, but Shar’s temple and the Goblin’s base had set the bar low), they finally stumbled upon something with potential.

“I’ve been trying to convince Gale to let me be his wingman if he decides he wants to get back out there,” Rune mused. They knew they had the perfect topic when Astarion snorted, bubbles coming up on the tub. The conversation of Gale’s post-Mystra rebound was a topic of the camp, and for good reason; Gale seemed to have finally realized his former relationship with the Goddess wasn’t a healthy one. Recently Wyll saw him trying to flirt with another wizard from Sorcerous Sundries, use of illusions included. Given the amount of dark topics that dominated camp these days, the party had jumped to gossip over such low stakes.

Gale thankfully didn’t mind and appeared a combination of amused and touched by their collective interest in his happiness. He’d indulged them by offering to consider letting one of them play wingman and Lae’zel, Wyll and Rune had all jumped at the opportunity. Wyll had offered because he was deeply enamored with true love and romance. Rune had offered because they hated Mystra.

Lae’zel had offered because Astarion bribed her with a nice amount of gold pieces to throw her hat in the ring. That, and she was determined to prove that her direct “I want to taste you” approach did actually work on more than just Shadowheart.

“So far, he seems to be favoring Wyll’s pitch,” Rune continued, leaning back in the chair. It felt nice to relax somewhat. They hadn’t realized how tense they’d been sitting until then. “He wants to take Gale to a local bar favored by mages around here, which I will admit, isn’t a bad idea.”

Astarion hummed. He was no longer curled into a ball, instead scrubbing away the blood on his torso.

“But if I can convince Karlach to tell me where she used to go after working out, I think I might manage to change his mind.” Convincing Karlach to do so would be difficult, Rune thought, as she was unofficially on Wyll’s team. But Rune wasn’t above bribery and they’d managed to loot a rather shiny greataxe that they thought might loosen her lips.

“You think he’s looking for someone muscular?”

“Did you hear what he said about “invigorating stimulation” back when we were fighting those goblins? If he’s looking for that kind of “stimulation” then Karlach’s old haunts are the best bet.”

Astarion chuckled and Rune hid their grin by ducking their head down. It wasn’t his full laugh, Rune didn’t expect to hear that after the day he’d had, but Gods it was nice to see him smile and mean it.

They continued like that, talking about other silly gossip, until Astarion was done. Rune threw him a towel and watched his eyebrows raise as he pressed his hand into the fabric.

“Did you warm this towel?”

Rune had, using prestidigitation a few seconds earlier. They’d gotten the idea from Wyll, who back at Last Light, had given out freshly warm blankets to those they’d freed from Moonrise Towers after their prison break. Rune took note of how the prisoners seemed to relax as they touched the warm fabric. Interesting how such small comforts still provided solace after such terrible cruelty.

“Too much?”

Astarion was already wrapping it around himself. “No, it’s perfect.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another and looked to Rune with a conflicted expression. “I need some time to think.”

Rune got up and headed towards the door. Astarion had gone through a lot today and Rune knew what it was like to have a lot on the mind. “No problem. I’ll be around if you need me. You can use the tadpole if it’s an emergency.”

Astarion relaxed and nodded once. Satisfied he would call for them if needed, Rune left the room and closed the door behind them. The rest of their companions were still in the main suite living space and they all turned to Rune as they left. They’d clearly been hovering; the book in Gale’s lap was one Rune knew he already read twice over and if Lae’zel kept sharpening that dagger, it might chip.

Rune adored them all. Despite all their respective burdens, all of them were happy to make a detour to take down Cazador. It was the same with saving Wyll’s father or helping Shadowheart find her parents or potentially breaking into Hell for Lae’zel. They all cared.

If this was what having a family felt, like no wonder people were so found of theirs.

“How’s Fangs?” Karlach asked, fiddling her thumbs together. Rune walked forward and shrugged.

“Processing; he asked for some time alone. Now,” they reached into their pockets and pulled out their journal, opening it up to where they kept a ribbon as a bookmark. “Let’s talk about supplies and inventory.”

The resounding groan from the rest of the party was a welcome sign of normalcy.

__________

After an hour and a half of debating what to sell and what to keep, shortly followed by dinner, Rune headed downstairs to the first floor of the tavern. They would have normally stuck to the rooms, content with the company, but they couldn’t stop looking at the door to their own room and fretting about the vampire inside. So to alleviate their temptation to hover, they instead put their journal back in their pocket, grabbed one of their lighter bags, and decided to try some of the Elfsong’s famous ale.

They walked to the bar and took a seat, gesturing to the bartender and ordered said ale, which the bartender dutifully delivered moments later. After taking a sip, Rune closed their eyes, and took in the noise of the tavern. It was nice, they thought, to sometimes be surrounded by the hum of life. They could hear two men arguing about a business deal away from the bar. Somewhere to their left, a woman was flirting with someone and if the lack of response was any indication, failing rather miserably at it. The sound of a lute warming up to play rang from the stage where the bard was seated.

( You knew so many ways strings could be used for more interesting means. Garrotting, tying up prey, even cutting flesh if held tight enough. )

Rune kept drinking. The Urge was always there, and the more they focused on it, the worse it would get. It was best to just acknowledge its presence like an unwelcome houseguest and continue on with everything. They took another sip of their ale, trying to pinpoint the flavor. It tasted a little floral. Karlach was right; it was rather good compared to what they’d had on the road.

(I t would be so easy to kill everyone here. You could do it in an instant. Circle of Death is such a fantastic spell for wrecking ruin in such cramped spaces.)

The bard started a new song and Rune tapped their foot along to the beat, trying to work out some restless energy. After another sip of ale, they decided the drink, while not the best they’d ever had, was quite the deal for the price. Rune wondered if the food was as good; maybe Gale could take a day off cooking duty. Then again, the chef had said something about rats in the basement.

( That would be the best way to do it. You could go to the basement. No one would be able to see you cast down there, no one would even think to cast Counterspell.)

Sure, they could do that, but they weren’t going to, so they weren’t going to focus on it. They just had to-

( How do you know what you’re going to do? Remember Alfira? )

Rune gripped the glass of ale tighter as they placed it back onto the counter. The tavern seemed louder now, more crowded. The bard’s song, a jaunty little tune meant for dancing, picked up the pace.

( Did you know Circle of Death has a thirty feet effect radius? If you cast it just at ceiling level, you could get the second story too. You could even spare the rats ).

Was the bard’s lute off pitch when they started? It didn’t seem like that earlier. It was likely in their head,

( Your companions would be struck too. You wouldn’t likely kill them all but you’d kill the weaker ones for sure. Though wasn’t everyone weak compared to you, a child of a God ?)

It felt hotter in the tavern too. Rune felt someone brush past them, and went stock still, their eyes still closed. They could feel sparks coming off their hand not holding the ale. It would be so easy to reach out and shock anyone who passed by.

( How ironic would it be, for the sad little spawn, finally free of his master, to die as the rats scurried alive and well below. )

Rune’s eyes flew open and they stood up so fast that the chair behind them fell to the ground. A few people turned to look at them. Even the bard ceased playing, noticing the minor commotion. The bartender faced them, brows furrowed in a mix of alarm and concern.

(How concerned would they be, if they knew what you truly were?)

Rune left the ale unfinished, threw a tip for the bartender and made towards the stairs, paying no attention to anyone who tried to stop them. They did not halt at the second floor, instead heading straight for the windows at the end of the hall. It was twilight now, and Rune was thankful for it as they opened the latch.

Rune climbed out the windows and onto the roof. The roof was safer than the tavern, the most accessible collateral damage local pigeons. The Urge did not stop its issessant blathering as they made their way onto the shingles, but it did become less loud in the cool air.

They managed to find a spot to sit that was not entirely uncomfortable and pulled out their journal from their pocket. Journaling was grounding, a way to focus on anything but the Urge whispering in their ear. Next, they grabbed a piece of charcoal from their bag that they keep wrapped in cloth to keep it from staining everything. In the section of their journal where they kept unfinished tasks, they crossed off “help A. kill C.S if he wants” with more force than what was needed. Unlike most of their “to do” list, it was surrounded by completed tasks, as Rune wrote it down back even before the Tiefling party at the Grove.

Astarion knew Rune kept a journal, everyone did, but Rune hadn’t told him how early they’d decided to help him eliminate the Vampire Lord. They were worried he’d chalk it up to nothing but affection for his act, and Rune wasn’t sure they’d be able to fully convince him otherwise. To be fair, affection had played a factor, though it was affection for Astarion’s understanding of their own bloodlust and mystery novels rather than his honeyed lines. But a much larger part was that when Rune learned that spawn had to follow every order their sire gave them, helpless to fight back, they felt a murderous rage that had nothing to do with the Urge.

I cannot let that happen to anyone else , Rune had thought back then, even though they could not place where the feeling had come from. I refuse. And they’d written down their commitment to do as such before Astarion had even considered killing Cazador as something that could be accomplished.

Even now, while they’d mostly helped kill Cazador because Astarion wanted to, there was a part of them that was delighted to help because Cazador was a puppeteer that could be beaten. If Rune couldn’t free themselves from the God of Murder, at least they could free Astarion from his own bonds.

They felt guilty for that feeling, even if it was a small thing. A drop in an ocean of guilt really. They were lucky they hadn’t drowned.

They looked at the other tasks on their list. There were some they could easily handle now; crushing materials for potions, reading a book they’d gotten that they hoped might provide some insight into Karlach’s eternal engine, organizing a backlog of spell scrolls they’d picked up. Their next big task kept drawing their attention, and they ran their thumb past “save Duke Ravenguard” and watched the charcoal smear. It would have to be soon if they wanted any chance of finding him alive. And that would require making an enemy of Gortash.

Rune didn’t care about making an enemy of Gortash exactly. It was more the complications that came with it that troubled them. Gortash knew more about who Rune used to be than Rune themselves and that made him dangerous. Would Rune’s plans still work as intended if Gortash devoted himself fully to thwarting them? Would he seek to complicate the lives of Rune’s friends by allying with the Sharrans or sending his Steel Watch to torment the refugees? Gortash knew enough about Rune to somewhat predict them even with their changes in personality, but Rune still knew less about him than Karlach did.

Rune knew Gortash stayed his hand out of fondness for who Rune used to be (as well as hatred of Orin). Should Rune truly disrupt his plans, he would discard that fondness for a person who was, if Rune was lucky, gone. All that would be left from Gortash was rage that Rune remained wearing his friend’s face.

Friend was probably not the right word, Rune thought, shuddering. They didn’t think Gortash and their former self were capable of love, but they absolutely had been fucking. If Rune asked, Gortash could probably tell them what scars they’d obtained since they vanished, maybe even how Rune got them, and when he died, he would know the history of Rune’s body more than themselves.

Well, that was a nauseating thought. Best not to think about that one, especially given that Rune’s current partner was a floor below reeling what might be one of the most traumatic days of his life. Rune could unpack that properly once they were free of the tadpoles. And helped Shadowheart find her parents. And found a solution to Karlach’s engine and-

Well, eventually. Just not now.

Instead of thinking more about the current Archduke, Rune instead began dividing up tasks for the next day. Wyll would have to come with Rune while they investigated leads for his father, and Karlach would be good to have on hand should they get dire news. Everything Rune knew about comforting people was learned from watching Wyll, and they could use Karlach’s help if news about the man’s father was tragic. They would also be a good pair to help Rune to dig up more about Orin’s murder plot, given their knowledge of the city. If Astarion was up for it, he’d be an excellent addition as well; otherwise, Jaerhia’s would be an good choice. While they were off doing that, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale could continue looking for leads on where the Temple of Bhaal might be located. Orin had promised Rune that Halsin would be safe as long as Rune focused their ire on Gortash, but Rune was not going to place their trust in their murderous sibling.

They’d made that mistake once, back when they were something cruel. They would not make it again.

A half an hour must have passed before Rune heard someone else scramble onto the window below. They prepared a cast of ray of frost until they saw white curls poke out over the edge of the roof. Rune closed their journal and set it on their lap.

“Up here.”

“I knew you’d be roosting somewhere,” Astarion said, as he leapt onto the shingles with grace Rune rather envied. “Tavern too noisy for your scheming?”

Astarion knew Rune could plan just fine surrounded by outside noise; he’d seen them plan in their camp, after all. They wouldn’t be surprised if he’d learned about their swift exit from the main floor himself. He sat down next to them and looked at their lap where the journal was seated.

“Are you ever going to let me take a look inside that thing?”

Astarion absolutely had looked inside Rune’s journal before, this they both knew. They’d caught him at it early on in their journey a few times, though he’d quit early on. At the time, Rune thought it might be due to the Alfria incident making him more cautious, but in retrospect, he’d likely stopped peeking when he realized Rune wrote down notes to self and supply lists, not secrets to stealing their heart.

Rune was curious to why he’d want to look at it now. Astarion had already stolen their heart quite thoroughly. He had to know that surely.

“It’s just lists and reminders. You know that. I don’t think you’d find it all that interesting.”

Astarion moved closer to Rune, so their thighs were touching. He leaned over their shoulder. “Still no drawings in the margins?”

Rune looked down at the journal and flipped it open to a section where the corner had a red stain. They held it up, showing Astarion the selected page which was covered in blood. There were a dozen of smeared illegible drawings made by shaking fingers on the parchment, like a disturbing finger painting. When Rune looked over the top of the journal to view Astarion, he looked flummoxed.

“Is that supposed to be a small intestine?”

Rune peered over the top of the journal and took in the spot Astarion was looking at. They supposed it looked a little like intestines, though it could also be just a shaky line or a blood trail. It was hard to tell.

“I don’t know if it’s supposed to be anything at all.”

Rune would have torn out the page entirely, but at the time it’d been a clue of whatever might be wrong with them. When they’d woken up with stinging fingertips covered with their own blood, they’d scribbled the date at the top of the page like it was a regular entry. It was a bit comical, how different their neat handwriting was to the gore on the page.

“I suppose we can cross off artist as a potential future career path,” Astarion said, leaning his forearms back against the roof so he could lean back a little. His body was too tense for the position to look relaxing, but he wasn’t trying to fake ease, which Rune took as a promising sign. “Planning out our marching orders for tomorrow?”

“A little. Depends on what you’re up for.”

“You know I’m up for everything darling.”

“Astarion,” Rune said, voice firm. They knew that voice for what it was: an act. If Astarion wanted to brush off everything in front of the others, Rune wouldn’t stop him. But they wouldn’t allow him to do the same when they were alone.

Rune had their own performances memorized: the devoted Absolute cultist, the brave hero, the playful clueless sorcerer. Astarion knew them all, he’d seen Rune throw on each persona when the moment required it, then drop it as soon as they were back in camp. If Rune put down their mask, they expected Astarion to do the same.

Astarion’s shoulders slumped. He leaned back, looking up at the setting sun and held out his hand, like he was trying to cup the horizon in his grasp.

“That first day, after the crash,” Astarion said, keeping his hand where it was. “I thought the sun would be the death of me. 200 years of shit and the moment I was free of Cazador, I was going to meet my end by a sunbeam.” He let out a dark chuckle and lowered his hand, having it lay back by his side. “Seemed like Gods’ usual cruel brand of humor.”

Rune kept quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“Imagine my surprise when everything played out otherwise. Here I was, free of Cazador, able to walk in the sun, two things I thought I’d never have again.” He held out his hands wide, then gestured to Rune. “It seemed too good to be true. And of course, it was, once you came along and told me that the very thing that gave me what I wanted was also going to cause me to sprout tentacles in a handful of days. So when I heard about the Rite, it seemed like the perfect solution. Sure, I could have taken over the Cult myself, but that seemed like a lot of responsibility and frankly, more work than it was cut out for. I mean, did you see all the paperwork on Thorm’s desk? I’d never see the sunlight again if I had to read through all that.”

Rune felt a flash of rage pulse through them at the mention of Throm but ignored it. Now was not the time. They instead directed their entire focus on Astarion.

“It was my chance to have it all. The sun, my freedom, and Cazador dead at my hands.” Astarion waved a hand, gesturing like he was throwing something aside. “Sure, it would come at the cost of my so-called siblings, but they would have done the same thing to me. Might as well put them out of their misery. I’d be doing them a favor.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his legs, placing his chin on his knees. The setting sun cast light onto the bottom of his face, just under his eyes. “And yet-”

Rune could guess what stayed Astarion’s hand in the end. They’d watched as Astarion stared at cages of spawn in horror, noticed how he’d wanted to look away from all that pain and suffering. Rune was the one who’d forced him to meet it head on, to look them in the eyes and admit the truth of the matter; that Astarion could very well do this, but he’d have to do so knowing he was throwing away people, not the already dead and buried. People who could have been Rune, if things were different.

(He wouldn't have been able to kill you. He could have tried, but you would have killed him first before you stepped a foot in that manor. Maybe even tore out his fangs as a prize.)

“I couldn’t do it. I had everything in front of me, and I couldn’t do it.”

“You wouldn’t still be yourself if you did,” Rune said. They remembered listening to the skull tell the story of Cazador before he was a Vampire Lord, how much his story as spawn echoed Astarion’s. Rune doubted the man was ever truly soft of heart, but he at least had some capacity for feeling other than his own ego. For Cazador to have changed so much turning into a true vampire spoke volumes; hells only knew how much Astarion might change were he to become something even more than that.

“Probably,” Astarion admitted. He scowled, kicking one of the shingles under his foot. “But I wouldn’t be like this either. Afraid he’s going to pop out of the shadows and drag me back there at any moment.”He sat up straight all of the sudden, irritation leaking into his tone. “He’s dead. I killed him myself. So why do I still feel like this?”

“Because it all still happened, maybe? Like my headaches-“ Rune ran their fingers through their hair. They could feel the scar that stretched from behind their ear to the center of their forehead. Back when they crashed it was visible given their buzz of hair. Now it wasn’t too noticeable now that Rune’s hair had grown out from patchwork to a pixie, but Rune could never forget it was there.

Astarion had Cazador to thank for his own back. Rune noticed the vampire took care to not wear items that gave anyone a glimpse of the scarring there. Cazador’s death would not erase that contract nor the memory of it being carved there. Even if Astarion both wished otherwise.

“Even though the wound might physically have healed, that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt,” Rune said, finishing their thought.

Astarion turned away, snarling. “So what, I’m stuck with him forever, even while he rots?”

Sometimes Astarion could be purposefully obtuse. “That wasn’t my point.”

“And what was it then?”

Rune was good with words when it came to strangers. Strangers they never had to see again, strangers never got to realize that Rune had spotted what they wanted to hear or inferred the role they wanted Rune to play. Rune didn’t have to think much about the interaction other than how to get what they wanted.

With friends, with people Rune cared for, words were harder. Because with them, words could do far more damage if thrown around loosely. The wrong thing to say, the wrong tone and one could cause damage as deep as a knife wound.

Rune was so tired of hurting people they didn’t want to.

“That you shouldn’t tear yourself apart because you haven’t healed from 200 years of shit overnight,” they settled on. Astarion was looking at them again, red eyes trained on Rune’s face. “You’re so hard on yourself, sometimes,”Astarion began to open his mouth but Rune pressed on, determined to finish the thought. “And I know I’m one to talk, but Astarion, you managed to kill a vampire lord today. You gave thousands the chance to make a new life. You gave the gur their children back.”

“That I helped take in the first place-“

“Okay, well if that’s true-“ Frustration burned through Rune and they pointed their finger in Astarion’s chest. Astarion almost fell back in surprise, Rune rarely got visibly angry. Rune would have tried to reign in the emotion but they needed Astarion to understand this, they needed him to believe them. They reached into their bag for the dagger everyone insisted they keep on them, and pushed it sheathed into Astarion’s hands. Astarion looked at them like they’d lost their mind.

“You should rightfully take your revenge given my father tried to have me tear you limb from limb.” Rune sat back on the roof, and held their arms out wide. Astarion was still staring at them, the dagger held limply in his hands like he’d never wielded one before. “Well?”

“You weren’t yourself.” His voice was a whisper.

“And you were?”

“That’s not fair-“

“Isn't it?" Rune reached forward and plucked the dagger out of Astarion’s grasp. "Astarion, you cannot entirely hold yourself to what you did under Cazador’s control! You did a lot of good today. And yes, I know, how dare I accuse you of goodness, but this day could have ended very differently and it didn’t.” They placed the dagger back into their bag. “Give yourself some credit for that.”

“Are you sure you don’t deserve that credit instead?”

“No.” Rune was resolute. “I told you what I thought but I was willing to follow your lead. And you led us here,” They shrugged.

“To an inn where we’re crammed into one suite and must scramble onto the roof for some privacy.”

Rune shrugged. The sun was almost gone now and with it the horizon turned a beautiful violet. The night wasn’t so bad, when it arrived with such a sight. “Who cares? You’re here. That’s all I need.”

Astarion looked at them for a long moment, eyes wide before he reached forward, grabbed the front of their tunic, and pulled them in for a kiss. It was sweet but not soft and Rune smiled into it, feeling some of the fear from earlier in the day finally slip from their mind.

They knew Astarion had worried when he’d confessed he’d like to stop having sex and slow things down, but frankly, Rune hadn’t minded. They didn’t remember much of their own history, but they doubted the former leader of the Cultist of Bhaal was one for kissing on rooftops with zero intention of losing clothing in the endeavor. At best, Rune’s previous life had consisted of getting off and offing people, no feeling required. While they would have agreed to Astarion’s request regardless, it didn’t hurt that Rune felt like something like this was something new to them too. Something nice.

Rune broke the kiss for air, then dove back in for another. This one was more brief, just a quick press of lips, but Gods it was lovely. When they broke apart, they were almost giddy with affection. They placed their head on his shoulder and chuckled into Astarion’s collar bone, feeling him let out of a puff of air that ruffled their hair. He wrapped his arms around their back, pulling them in closer.

“How in the Gods’ name can you be so casually charming?”

“You know which God, we had a talk about it and everything.”

“You are an absurd human being.”

Rune pulled back to look him in the face. Astarion was smiling now, properly smiling and they felt so very warm despite the cool night air. With a teasing smile, they leaned in, just out of reach for another kiss. “But you like me though.”

“A terrible lapse in judgment on my part,” Astarion got up, and held out his hand towards Rune. “Come’on love, let’s get to bed.”

Rune looked up at him. They were rather tired. However, as nice sharing a bed was, Rune wasn’t sure it was a good idea after today given Rune’s nightmares. Their fits had gotten worse as they got closer to the city, and now that they were inside the walls properly, they woke up multiple times a night in a cold sweat. It wasn’t exactly the best atmosphere for an elf to trance.

“If you want to be alone I can go bunk with Gale?” When it came to shared sleeping arrangements, Gale tended to be the best choice simply because he was rather used to sharing space with insomniacs after years of studying at Blackstaff. Rune could toss and turn on their bedroll all they wanted, and Gale would sleep it off just fine.

(There would be a fight over who “got” the bed, this Rune knew. Gale would insist Rune take it for having the basic human decency of not asking him to blow himself up, and Rune would insist Gale take it because Gale complained about his knees already, and Rune had slept in far worse places. Rune expected fully to win, but not without a debate).

“Tell Gale to get his own sorcerer. It can be part of your wingman proposal,” Astarion wiggled his fingers. “I know you don’t sleep well, love. I am aware of what I’m signing up for.”

Rune took his hand and let Astarion help him to their feet. When they were standing, Astarion lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Rune’s palm. Rune could feel the flush that appeared on their cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said. Rune wasn’t sure if it was for helping him kill Cazador, the bath, the talk on the roof or all three. Rune shook their head.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. And I want to thank you anyway.” Astarion tightened his grip on their hands and looked Rune right in the eye. “And I meant what I said yesterday; We will see you free of Bhaal. Freedom won’t be truly sweet until you’re no longer under his thumb.”

Rune’s stomach twisted, their throat tightening. He meant it, Rune could tell. This wasn’t intended as an empty promise or sweet words to assure Rune’s nerves. If it was possible to unshackle Rune from their father’s influence, Astarion would see it done.

For both their sakes, Rune desperately hoped it was possible at all. They had their doubts but maybe Astarion’s hope would be enough for the both of them.

Astarion lowered their joined hands and tugged Rune towards the edge of the roof where the windowsill was. “Now come on, sorcerers need their beauty sleep.”

Rune followed him. As they climbed into bed later, Rune curling around the trancing vampire, they closed their eyes and hoped that they could find a way to keep this, the Gods be dammned.

#iz writes #bg3 durge #durge #astarion x durge #durgestarion #bg3 fic #bg3 #dark urge

8 notes · View notes