#daily reminder to stream Kick It

[adeptustemptations]

"I pledged to love you."

(wc. 1.4k) You feel as if you're worthless lately, struggling to complete daily tasks, unable to finish some, or perhaps just instantly lose motivation to do them. To other people's eyes, your family was picture perfect, and to you? you felt like you were failing everyone.

pairings: sylus, fem!reader genre: angst w comfort c:, reader is married w kids

a/n: short read! it's my first time writing for him (or lads in general), so i hope i was able to capture how he'd act with her :D

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, bathing the place you called home in gold in its glory. And yet, all you could feel was grey.

You stood in front of the sink, staring blankly at a half washed plate beneath your trembling hands. Your hands had started to prune from the water, the suds clinging to your skin now just a reminder of how long you’d been frozen in place. 

Somewhere behind you, the laughter of your children echoed faintly from the hallway. It should’ve brought a smile to your face. Once upon a time, it did. 

Now, it only made the weight in your chest heavier.

You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears, but they slipped out anyway. The sting was quiet. Soft. You didn’t sob. Didn’t fall to your knees in dramatics. You just stood there, barely breathing, feeling like you were slowly breaking apart from the inside out.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with me,” you whispered to no one.

You used to handle this. The cleaning, the cooking, the kids’ tantrums, the endless laundry. You used to manage all of it while still having energy left over to kiss Sylus when he walked through the door, to laugh with him on the couch at something cheesy that he says, to feel... like a person.

Now, everything felt like a fight.

Not with him. God. Never with him.

With yourself.

The kids were being too loud again. You knew they were just playing; your daughter chasing her brother around with a plush sword, but the sound grated on your nerves like nails on glass.

“Stop it! Both of you, just stop!” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

The silence that followed was deafening. Your son looked up at you with wide eyes, and your daughter’s bottom lip trembled as she slowly lowered the toy. Your chest constricted. You hadn't yelled like that in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, softer now, rushing over and gathering them in your arms. “I didn’t mean it, babies. Mommy’s just tired, okay? I’m sorry.”

They nodded, but the damage was done. They were cautious with you for the rest of the afternoon. And that made it worse.

You barely heard Sylus come in. It was only the sound of his leather shoes being kicked off and his soft humming–always a tune from a song he made up, that made you turn. He was already loosening his tie, already smiling. But the smile faded the moment his eyes met yours.

“Sweetheart?” he said gently, as if approaching a startled animal. “You okay?”

You tried to speak. Failed.

Instead, you turned back to the sink, scrubbing the plate a little too hard, knuckles white. “Yeah,” you managed, voice thin. “Just tired.”

Sylus didn’t press, not yet. He knew better than to push when your walls were up. He walked behind you, kissed the top of your head, and murmured, “I’ll take the kids outside for a bit. You rest.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The door clicked shut minutes later.

Silence encompassed the house. Peaceful. Quiet. 

And then you collapsed to your knees.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there on the cold tile floor, arms wrapped around yourself, tears streaming down your face in silence. The self-hatred felt like acid in your throat. Why couldn’t you just be okay? Why couldn’t you pull it together? Your kids deserved more. Sylus deserved better.

It wasn’t just today.

You’d forgotten your son’s field trip last week. He'd come home disappointed, asking why you didn’t pack his favorite sandwich like you promised.

"I'm sorry, baby," You say, your hands shaking as you gently hold onto his shoulders, "Mommy forgot."

You said you’d take your daughter to the bookstore on Sunday. She waited by the door with her little purse and shoes on for nearly an hour before Sylus gently coaxed her away, murmuring that “Mommy must have fallen asleep.” You had.

And the worst part? You didn't even realize until the next day. Mommy did forget.

Dinner was another disaster. You tried. God, you tried. You followed the recipe exactly, but halfway through you got distracted when your daughter spilled juice across the floor, and then your son started crying because he thought he’d lost his toy, and the food..

The food burned.

The smoke detector didn’t even go off. The shame did.

You stared at the pan, blackened and useless, and your heart twisted violently. You felt like you were failing at everything. Even something as simple as a meal. Sylus got home right as you were throwing the pan into the sink. You turned away from him, ashamed.

But then it got worse.

As you turned, your elbow knocked into the mug, that mug. The one Luke and Kieran gave him on his birthday. It had the words 'WORLD'S BEST BOSSMAN' handpainted on it, something messily made, but Sylus treasured it like it was priceless.

You watched it fall.

Watched it hit the tile.

Watched it break.

“Oh God,” you whispered. “No no no-"

You dropped to your knees, frantic hands reaching for the pieces when- 

“Stop.” Sylus’s voice was soft but firm, and you felt his hand close around your wrist. 

“You’ll cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry–I didn’t mean–God, I didn’t mean to–"

“Y/N,” he said again, kneeling beside you. His thumb brushed along your wrist gently. “It’s just a mug. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” you choked out, the tears falling again. “I mess everything up. I-I burn the food, I forget things, I break things. I’m not the same person anymore, Sylus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You didn’t marry this.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you. You tried to hide your face, ashamed, but he wouldn’t let you. His hand moved to your chin, tilting it up, his crimson eyes searching yours.

“You think I’m here for perfection?” he said, voice low. “You think I married you because you always got everything right?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your breath hitched when his palm cupped your cheek.

“I married you,” he said slowly, like each word was sacred. “Because you have the kindest heart I’ve ever known. Because even when you’re hurting, you put everyone else first. Because you’re strong even when you feel weak. Because you’re you.”

You sobbed, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, letting everything spill out at last.

“I feel so lost,” you whispered. “I wake up and I already want to cry. I feel like I’m drowning in a life I used to be able to swim through just fine. I yelled at the kids the other day, I forgot so many things I promised them. What kind of mother–what kind of wife–"

“One who’s human,” he whispered, holding you tighter. “One who’s overwhelmed. One who’s been trying to carry everything on her shoulders without asking for help.”

“But I didn’t want to be a weight to you,” you cried. “You already handle so much, Onychinus, and now I’m–"

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he said, pulling back to look at you again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Don’t ever call yourself a burden. You’re the reason I get up every day. You and the kids? You’re my entire world. If something is hurting you, I want to carry it with you, not because I have to. Because I want to.”

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you felt something crack inside you, not in a bad way. It was like the first breath after being underwater for too long.

“I pledged to love you,” Sylus murmured, brushing a tear from your cheek, “not just when things are easy, but when you’re breaking. When the light in your eyes fades. When the smile doesn’t come easy. That’s when you need me the most. And I’m here.”

You clung to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you,” you whispered. “I don’t feel like I deserve you right now, but I love you.”

He smiled against your temple. “I know you do. And I’ll keep reminding you every day that you deserve love, rest, patience, everything.”

The broken mug remained in the trash, forgotten. Dinner was replaced with takeout and quiet laughter on the couch as your kids dozed off nearby.

But something inside you had shifted.

You weren’t better yet. Not completely.

But for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel alone in it.

Sylus had reached for you, even while asleep, even when your thoughts were loud and cruel and dark. Even then, he’d found you.

And that meant... maybe, just maybe, you could find yourself again too.

[devious--muffin]

Delicate Ties

A one-shot for the @drarrymicrofic weekly microfic challenge (don't worry, I wrote an actual microfic this time too!) Prompt: Wound (used here as the past tense of wind)

“Promise you won’t forget us,” Draco whispered, stealing one last kiss before the Aurors barged into the holding cell.

“I promise.” Harry scrubbed the tears from his face and flicked his wand, watching as a thin red ribbon wound around his wrist. “As long as I wear this, I’ll never forget.”

Draco smiled grimly, his eyes glassy, “Such an easy thing to dispose of. Am I so expendable?”

“I’d rather cut off my own arm than take this off,” Harry cried, “How could you think you’d be so easily forgotten?”

They both turned as the door banged open. “Time to go, Malfoy,” an Auror spat, sneering as he caught sight of their clasped hands.

They stood together, Harry shooting daggers at the Auror when he attempted to take hold of Draco. He squeezed Draco’s hand then slowly slipped his fingers free, taking a deep breath as another Auror roughly led him away.

“It’s only five years!”

Draco sighed as the memory washed over him; it was a daily reminder of the love he’d found and quickly lost as he sat in his filthy cell. Harry may have made that promise in earnest at the time, but five years was much longer than it sounded, and Draco had very little hope that Harry would even still be thinking about him, let alone be ready to pick up where they left off once he was free.

“Malfoy!”

Draco rolled sluggishly on his straw bed to face the tarnished bars. One positive of the war, if anyone could call it that, was that Dementors no longer haunted the corridors and sucked the life out of the prisoners. No. Instead, flesh-and-blood men stalked past, rattling cages and expending their frustration.

The cell door creaked open, and Draco watched impassively as the Auror dropped a bundle onto the floor. “Get dressed.”

Draco furrowed his brow. It wasn’t Wednesday, was it? “For what?”

The Auror sneered, “Merlin, I can’t wait to be rid of your pompous arse,” he growled. He kicked the pile further into the small cell, “Time to face your enemies, innit?”

Draco lifted a brow, his eyes trained on the Auror as he slowly moved to retrieve the clothing. He knew better than to ask more than one question and bit his tongue against his burning curiosity. When he separated the garments, Draco was surprised to find them completely intact, no holes or tears to be found. He stripped and redressed quickly, modesty a thing of the past after years of zero privacy, then turned to face the bars.

The Auror grunted and spun, moving down the corridor at a clipped pace. Draco dutifully followed, the behavior routine, but not the route.

“Where are we going?” Draco asked before he could stop himself.

The Auror shot him a glare over his shoulder, and Draco was certain they were about to turn a corner so he could pay for his inquisitiveness, but they continued up several flights of stairs instead. The higher they climbed, the brighter it became, until Draco had to squint against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He took a deep breath, the scent of the sea replacing years’ worth of mold and mildew, and Draco’s heart leapt into his throat as he realized they were heading for the entrance of the prison.

Surely, it hadn’t been five years already.

“Here.”

Draco startled as a wad of material was shoved into his hands, gasping as he recognized the robes he’d worn to his trial. He resisted the urge to hug the garment but couldn’t push down the emotion that rose when his wand was placed on top.

“Well?”

Draco looked into the sour face of the Auror, then to the wide-open doors. The sunlight bounced off the sea, glittering beneath a clear sky. “I’m free?”

“Yes,” the Auror sneered.

“How do I get home?”

The Auror rolled his eyes and turned his back, ignoring the question. Draco took a breath and straightened his shoulders, calling upon the baseless self-assurance of his youth, and headed for the blinding light. He took a deep breath as he crossed the threshold, blinking into the midday, and paused as the sun began to warm his perpetually chilly body. A gasp to his right made him turn his head sharply, and he stumbled as an apparition from his past came into focus.

Harry stared, his eyes darting around Draco’s too-thin frame and matted hair. He hadn’t been allowed to visit, no one had, but he’d spent every single day tracing the memory of Draco’s face in his mind. “Hi.”

Draco swallowed, eyes immediately falling to Harry’s wrist. The ribbon was dingy, the edges separated and frayed, but it was there, wound around tan skin as if it had always been. He blinked quickly, shifting his gaze up to Harry’s watery eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Harry laughed, “I’m here to take you home. Did you think I’d forgotten? That I’d moved on without you?”

Draco furrowed his brow, looking up as he tried to regulate his emotions, “Yes.”

Harry huffed and closed the distance between them, prompting Draco to tilt his chin back down. Tears slowly slid down his cheeks as Harry wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward. “I could never. Now that I’ve found you, I’ll never let you go. I would wait for you for five more years. Twenty years. A millennia. You��re never getting rid of me, Draco.”

Draco gasped a sob as Harry pressed their lips together, dropping his bundle to curl both arms around him. They stood on the edge of the sea, a depressing, imposing prison at their back as the gentle sound of waves breaking on the shore surrounded them, intertwined so tightly it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

It was the best day of both their lives.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ zali-senpai!! ]❜

ft. vezalius bandage x f! reader — krisis, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ zali is finally a senpai & gets particularly attached to a certain kouhai┊0.9k words

note: i’m not writing for the real streamer, this is a universe where they are streamers along with whatever occupation their lore follows contains: a little smut at the end!! dom zali & sub reader┊reader is part of ttt & a princess who wears a dress, innocence kink, and implied virginity loss

➤ author's note: so i came up with this idea when ttt debuted and wrote it all in one day… yeah it’s been a while. reader is a princess because… zali calling you princess and him being your prince charming… 

senpai! vezalius bandage who’s the most excited out of krisis to finally have kouhai after being considered the babies of the group for six months, now being the predecessor of the ninth wave that contained a cleric, a swordsmaster, a kunoichi, and a princess. he’s just so thrilled, already having his card in hand to buy the available welcome merch to support the newest wave and spamming his twitter with comments about how cool you all were during your introductions to the viewers.

senpai! vezalius bandage who absolutely loves it when you refer to him as such, making his heart skip a beat and the butterflies in his stomach go ballistic. sure, he feels happy when the others call him that too, but the way you say it makes him feel an emotion that’s indescribable (it’s actually a mix of horny and puppy crush, but he doesn’t know that yet). it makes heat rush to his face and dust his handsome face with a pale rose which he just blames for not being used to the honorific, causing him to get teased by his own genmates when they catch on.

senpai! vezalius bandage who always gives great advice, willing to tell you all of the embarrassing moments he had just so that you could learn from his mistakes and breaks down everything complicated so that it’s more simple to understand. he’s always there to remind you to drink plenty of water and get plenty of rest because he knows how hectic the first month of debut is. if it ever gets too much, feel free to call him whenever and he’ll help you sort it out! 

senpai! vezalius bandage who thinks you are so cute when you follow him around like a baby duckling and watch as he shows you the ropes of streaming with wide sparkling eyes, he has to stop himself from giggling at how you seem so fascinated by simple things he does daily. he’s even cooler to you because of his job as a hero who heals those in need, something that you wish you could do as a princess for the people of your kingdom. he inspires you so much to donate both time and money to charity, helping out those in need in the best way you can. 

senpai! vezalius bandage who you did your very first collab with outside of your genmates, spending the better half of the game talking about how amazing he was helping you out and how the other three were jokingly jealous at how much attention he was giving you. anyone with working eyes and ears could sense the immaculate chemistry, a ship name was created the same day and was flooded with artwork the next. you would never admit it, but you check the tag almost every single day while lying in bed and kick your feet blushing with each new post. 

senpai! vezalius bandage who knows that you have little free time between the busy debut month schedule and your normal royal duties, so he makes an effort to sneak you away for some freedom because what kind of awful person would he be if he didn’t look after the well-being of his kouhai? being a hero gives him lots of experience when it comes to sneaking around, so getting past the guards and to your bedroom window is a piece of cake!

senpai! vezalius bandage who will play the guitar and serenade you in the garden, singing love songs to get you all flustered under the moonlight. he would have never thought a gorgeous princess like you was so inexperienced in romantic situations like this, but he’s more than pleased to teach you all about the wonderful world of love your strict life has never allowed you to know. 

senpai! vezalius bandage who adores how big your eyes get and how flustered you become when he steals away your first real kiss, not the half-assed peck you received from some prince when you were little under pressure, a kiss which made your heart flutter and made you feel desired. he can’t but giggle at the way you looked like a deer in headlights and radiated warmth from how flustered you were.  

senpai! vezalius bandage who plays the gentleman and leaves it there for the moment, not wanting to rush into anything too quickly even though he could already tell you were subconsciously rubbing your thighs together to relieve the little ache the simple kiss gave you— god, you were so cute he could just eat you up. not yet though, he would leave you hanging just for tonight and take care of himself when he gets home.

senpai! vezalius bandage who can’t keep up the act for very long, not when you’re an angel descended from heaven and so close to him at all times. it takes about a week at the very least before you find yourself pinned down by him, his hands trailing up your frilly dress and his tongue shoved into your mouth exploring while he relishes your pitched little moans.

senpai! vezalius bandage who thinks you’re even cuter when stuttering out a weak “zali senpai~” while he presses you into the wall and fucks you from behind at an erratic pace, his gloved hands maintaining a strong grip on your hips to help you stay upright since your legs were on the verge of giving out under you— not stopping until you’re seeing stars and your legs are shaking so that he can carry you around afterward <3

[tarohonii]

Eleceed guys as situationships/talking stages

Jisuk is the nonchalant, dry, but strangely very attached talking stage. After a day of talking with him, you start getting the feeling he has the personality of a guy looking to just hit and nothing else. Just constant streams of 'lmao' 'wyd' 'k' as responses. But then you realize he has never once made any sexual implications, and is surprisingly pretty consistent with his texts. Also sends surprisingly thoughtful (but short and dry) messages at times, or sends photos of things that reminds him of you. And then comes the very belated stage of realizing he's just completely and utterly hopeless when it comes to talking stages and in actuality is trying his very hardest in this. 10/10 talking stage who will take you very seriously if you manage to stick through the very rough beginning stage

Sucheon is a serial ghoster. Consider yourself lucky if you manage to get past even one message without him completely icing you out or blocking you. If he even cares enough, you might get a text of 'Sorry. busy.' 36 hours after your initial message. He will always be busy and he will never ever have enough to entertain a conversation with you no matter how hard you try.

Ian is the heartbreaker situationship. 100% has a roster. 100% only hits you up only when he's bored. Between said roster and how busy he constantly is, he barely has time for you. But when he does-oh man. The chemistry is off the charts. The conversation is back and forth, the topics are interesting, you're giggling and kicking your feet the entire conversation. But it will last for a total of around thirty minutes before he mysteriously disappears around 1-2 weeks before hitting you back up again. Will be very active on social media, though. Always vaguely mentions taking you on dates or meeting up but never does. Logically, you should drop him asap, but he has a way of reeling you back in.

Duke is the disaster situationship you meet at 19 years old. Charming, manipulative, and a serial lovebomber. Probably the first guy to ever "want a serious relationship" but for some reason wants to keep it somewhat on the downlow and never ever wants to put a label on any of it. Showers you with lavish gifts, makes you feel like the only person in the world, talks about starting a future with you, then ghosts you for days at a time because "he's busy" Reveals the most menial, benign facts about himself and then says "wow..I never let anyone see this side of me..." There is a 70% chance he is seeing other people and will gaslight the hell out of you on your perception of your guys's relationship if he gets caught. Will he make the time you're with him make you feel like you're the most cherished, loved, and wonderful person on earth? Sure. Will you be mentally torn to shreds and never be quite the same at the end of it? Absolutely.

Gahin is somewhat on the same vein as Duke, except he's a bit more candid about it. Makes it pretty clear from the get-go he's not going to take you seriously and he has priorities that takes a much higher place than you and isn't afraid of showing it. You end up falling anyways, especially since Gahin can't help but lovebomb a little-he thinks it's a little entertaining to string along people. It is a disaster-on your end. Gahin could not care less, unfortunately.

Asher is the startlingly clingy talking stage. Deprived of any genuine interpersonal connection, so imagine his shock when someone actually..wants to know about him...and wants to talk to him daily. Once he gets past his general confusion and distaste over it, you have unfortunately unlocked a burr. Spams you 24/7. Will text back as soon as you respond. Trauma dumps and yaps like a goddamned pro. Will bare all of his deepest darkest secrets to you and wear his heart on his sleeve-which is generally not a great idea in the talking stage. So if things go south or you ghost him or things don't work out...he will hold a grudge. will pretend to be nochalant, but he is the absolute opposite.

Wooin clingy talking stage pt. 2 but like. worse. Honestly has very little grasp on the concept of a 'talking stage' or a 'situationship' at all, so he has a very ride-or-die mindset when it comes to romantic prospects. Once you're in the talking stage, he assumes he's talking to his potential life partner and must tread with the upmost care. Will bombard you with apologetic paragraphs late at night if he feels he did something wrong. Will be very very very distraught if you end it after like. two dates. Will likely never get over you.

[k4lenz]

can i casually drop my thoughts about adopting a dog with ted in your inbox? yeah? okay, thanks, kal, i love you!

you and ted have been talking about getting a dog for months. it started as a casual “wouldn’t it be nice if…” conversation, but soon enough you’re sending each other tiktoks of cute dogs, researching best dog foods, and debating names before you even had a dog to name.

you both originally went to the shelter to drop off old dog toys for ted’s parents, but the moment you locked eyes with the shy, quiet lab curled up in the corner, it was over.

the dog was timid at first, barely even raising his head when you knelt down to say hi. ted tried to play it cool, but the moment the dog cautiously sniffed his hand and gave the tiniest tail wag, he was done for too.

the shelter workers said the lab had been there for a while—probably due to how reserved he was. that was all it took. you were bringing this dog home.

the first few weeks were a little rough. the dog was hesitant, watching you and ted from a safe distance, unsure if you were trustworthy. but ted was so patient, always speaking in the softest, gentlest voice, giving him space, and waiting for the dog to come to him.

you, on the other hand, were completely melting anytime the dog made any progress. “oh my god he took a treat from my hand, ted, ted, ted. oh my god. teddy!”

then, one day, ted woke up on the couch to find the lab curled up on him. he barely moved, just looked at you with the widest eyes like “do you see this? do you see this?”

once the dog warmed up, he warmed up. suddenly, he’s glued to your guys’ side, tail wagging constantly, following you from room to room like your own shadow.

his energy skyrocketed after a few months, leading to daily adventures—beach trips, hikes, runs at the park. you and ted had never been more active.

at the beach, the dog would constantly bring you the most random objects. cool rocks, shells, sticks—fine. but then one day he trotted up and just dropped a whole ass crab at ted’s feet. “teddy, do not freak out.”

another time, the dog came running back with a fish he’d somehow caught and you nearly screamed. ted just stood there, hands on his hips, nodding like, “i respect the hustle, but we are not taking that home.”

anytime ted’s streaming/making a video, the dog has to be in the room. sometimes he curls up under his chair, sometimes he nudges his arm mid sentence, making him giggle. it’s so cute.

when you both watch movies on the couch, the dog has to be sandwiched between you. it’s non negotiable.

you always insists the dog sleeps on the bed alongside you both. ted claims he doesn’t want to get kicked in his sleep, but you’ve caught him whispering “goodnight, buddy” and scratching behind the dog’s ears before bed, so.

this lab is your baby. your child. you wouldn’t trade him for anything. even if he does occasionally drop dead fish at you feet.

side note, THE OCEAN STUFF IS REAL. my dog does it. he brought me a fucking dead baby shark once. HE’S INSANE.

of course you can jay you always can ILY MOREEE !!!

OH MY GOD JAY YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN I LOVE THIS SO MUCH WHAT. the lab reminds me of my own dog at home and it has me crying :( <3

THIS IS SO GOOD I LITERALLY LOVE THIS SO MUCH WHAT . ted’s gotta be a dog guy I’m so infinitely sure of it I CAN JUST TELL. and getting a dog together is like the cutest form of love. i looooove fur babies i love I love <3 <3

AND YOUR IDEAS NEVER EVER MISS. i can only imagine sitting in the passenger seat of the Tacoma with the lab on ur lap as you guys drive to the beach. and both of ur instagram’s being js full of each other and DOG. i can also imagine ted taking so many videos just for himself on the camcorder of you and the dog being super active, all together. smiling when he looks back at them.

this is literally so good. i also love cuddly dogs. AHHH.

[flippinpancakes64]

the cullens with reader who is a VERY popular movie star, but only plays in horror movies as the killer (and she makes them watch her movies)?

The Cullens with a Horror Movie Actor

Thank you for requesting!

In your request you mentioned “she” but I hope you don’t mind that I changed it to be more gender neutral

Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He thinks it's pretty sick tbh

I feel like he might have wanted to be an actor at one point

So seeing you living out your dreams is huge for him

You wouldn't need to force him to sit down to watch your movies

However I feel like he'd get a little in his own head about you being a killer

If you're still human he'd probably start that line of thinking where if he turned you you'd become a real-life killer, how your characters are just fake people but that's like the real him, blah blah

Just cut him off with a big 'ol smooch

Alice:

Again, very supportive

She'd make a whole day of it every time one of your movies releases

Of course, you would need to bring her as your plus one to the premier

She might give you pointers tho tbh

Even though they're not really for you

"Blood doesn't actually spurt like that, it's more of a stream"

As if you control the sfx

Either way she loves it

Thinks you are the most talented actor/actress ever

She would buy posters of your movies and frame them

Jasper:

He gets a little freaked out tbh

First of all, don't go to the theater with him

All of the people getting scared at the same time in such a concentrated group absolutely fires his brain

The sight of human blood (fake or real, on the screen or not) triggers him juuust a little

He also gets a little put off if your character seems to really enjoy the horror they cause

It reminds him of the way newborns love to hunt and kill

He's gonna need some one-on-one time with the real you after watching the movie

Just to remind him how you really are

Don't worry, it's not that he doesn't like what you do or that he doesn't like the movies

It's just the fact that it unsettles him a little thinking about what you could be if he ever turned you

He will watch them though

Rosalie:

She thinks it's badass

Hands down she loves it

I mean she went around killing and torturing her abuser in a wedding dress

That is so horror movie material

And even though that isn't her anymore, I feel like she'd love a good horror movie

And with you as the star? It's her new favorite

Instantly the whole movie is switched around for her

Who cares if you're "supposed" to be the bad guy

Those hitchhikers MUST have done something bad to deserve this

She will gladly sit down and watch them with you

She might even turn them on herself a couple of times

#1 Fan

Emmett:

Don't invite him to the movie premier

He'll show up in a shirt that says "I love my partner even though they're a psycho murderer" of smthn

In all honesty though he loves it

He loves seeing the people around him be strong and brave

He LOVED it when Bella was able to crush the rock and jump super high and hit Jacob

So I feel like he'd get a kick out of you in a mask with a chainsaw

Esme:

I feel like she's not too into horror movies

Absolutely shocking take I know

She just gets enough blood and guts and suspense in her daily life yk

But she will watch it for you

She won't say anything but she also gets a bit unnerved by you being the villain

I feel like she sort of has that underlying feeling of being a monster

So seeing the stuff that she has to do to survive dramatized on screen and played out by none other than her partner

It strikes a chord deep in her heart

She will also need some one-on-one time with you afterward to remind herself that that is not you on the screen

Carlisle:

I actually think he'd be quite the horror lover

I feel like he has a fascination with the way sfx and prosthetics are made for movies

Unironically I think one of his favorite film franchises is Saw

So he would be more than happy to sit down and watch your movie

He has absolutely no issue with you being the villain

The only thing he cares about is talking specifics

He's like Alice but worse

He points out every set error

He's like those old YouTube videos of people pointing out every error made in *insert movie here*

"Look there's one of the boom mics"

"That blood is a bit too pink, and runny"

Vampire! Bella:

Again, she thinks it's badass

She's only recently gotten a handle on being an agile killer

So in her mind she's still that clumsy girl sometimes

Seeing her partner on the screen being a badass killer makes her so proud

Unfortunately another one you shouldn't take to the premier

She is wearing one of those god awful dresses with one bad image of your face printed all over it from redbubble or smthn

And no she won't take it off or change

She already had to sneak out of the house without Alice seeing it

[geneticdriftwood]

lost and found pt. 1: missing pieces (dickroy wip snippet)

Summary:

"In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe."

Or: Dick thinks about the past and fails to change the future.

A/N: this is a little snippet from pt. 1 of lost and found, my wip au where Lian and Damian become friends while she's running around gotham still "dead". they get themselves stranded half a galaxy away, and in the process of rescuing them, dick and roy finally work through their issues and figure their shit out. takes place shortly after bruce returns from the time stream, pre-nu52 canon but with lian's current death plotline

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

The last kid from his gymnastics class has finally been picked up, so Dick heads to the staff locker room to rinse off before going home. 

Honestly, Dick hates this locker room. It’s nothing like the tiny one at his old gym in New York, with its cracked mirror, and its shower with shit water pressure, and its photos and stickers and children's artwork on every locker. This one is too big, all shiny and new and impersonal, remodeled, like the rest of the gym, with money from a generous anonymous donation. Because Bruce can’t resist shoving himself into every fucking corner of Dick’s life.

That’s probably enough bitching about Bruce for now. He doesn’t want to hit his daily quota before he even finds out what happened last night with Damian. 

Dick finishes his shower and towels off, changing into a clean pair of sweatpants and an old Wonder Woman t-shirt. Gym bag over his shoulder, he waves goodbye to his coworkers and steps out into the soft light of early evening. He throws a helmet on, hops on his bike, and pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of his apartment. 

The fog of stress and exhaustion has finally cleared from his head, and he’s feeling more like himself than he has all day, but something in his chest still aches. 

His last group of the day had been the tumbling class for 5-6 year olds. It's one of his favorites to teach–– it’s mostly just playing games, and he loves seeing how carefree and comfortable in their own skin the kids that age still are. But there’s moments when he looks at them and chokes on the air in his lungs, unable to swallow the grief. 

Sophie had landed her first cartwheel today, and all he could see was Lian, running into the tower kitchen to proudly show him that look, she finally got the feet right! And he and Donna had applauded, and let her lick the cookie dough off the spoon, and listened as she’d sat at the kitchen island, kicking her feet and telling them all about some new animal fact she’d learned. 

He thinks about calling Roy and sharing the memory. But he doesn't know if he should, hasn't talked to him recently enough to know whether the thought of past joy would be a comfort, or just a painful reminder of loss.

It aches down to his bones, that he doesn’t know. The distance between him and Roy feels so wrong, like he’s missing a limb. 

Dick pulls in and parks in front of his favorite little corner grocery store. Dick wants to say he doesn’t know how all this started, but, well, he definitely does. He just doesn't particularly want to think about it.

This is his own damn fault, he knows. Roy’s been trying to reach out, lately. They see each other semi-regularly, at Justice League meetings or during the occasional mission. Out of costume sometimes, too, at someone’s birthday dinner or a West family cookout. But Dick’s had a lot of practice dodging conversations he doesn’t want to have. And normally Roy doesn’t let him get away with that, but they both know better than to start this fight in public. 

So Dick avoids being alone with Roy, and Roy stares at him from across the room, eyes burning holes in the side of Dick’s head. Between the two of them, silences have always been so much louder than screaming matches. 

Dick glances down. He’s a little surprised to notice that he has his phone out and opened to Roy’s contact, where a much younger face looks up at him. Donna had taken the picture, one afternoon when it had just been the three of them and Lian in the tower.

In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe.

It’s not like Dick wants things to stay like this. He misses his friend so much it burns inside. But he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s afraid to try. Dick feels stuck, frozen. Why the hell is this so hard? 

His thumb hovers over the call button on the screen. He really, really wants to hear Roy’s voice.

Suddenly his phone vibrates, and a text from Tim pops up at the top of the screen.

dropping itty bitty bat off at ur place, eta 20min. if u arent home to stop me i WILL be stealing all ur zesti.

The tension of the moment breaks, and Dick is back to being just a guy in a parking lot. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and pauses for a moment before pocketing his phone and turning to head into the store. He’s got a kid he needs to make dinner for, and he should probably restock on Zesti.

As he pushes the door open and is hit with cool air and the sounds of shoppers, a little voice in his head whispers “coward”. It sounds uncomfortably like Roy’s.

[kaiso-woo]

Sunshine to the Moon

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist　

PART 4 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader.

WC: 4.2k | Synopsis: Slice of Life, another night after closing shop. Your Café has gotten busier thanks to that Skz-Code Episode filmed there finally being released. Tonight however, Chris is here to brighten the night. This is the first time you both admit to loving each other by the way - but it’s cute I promise.

Notes: FLUFF, Angst (if you squint, and I mean really squint), Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, Barista!Chan, CaféOwner!Reader, Fem!Reader, Cringe Cringe-Cheesy-Corny-Slight Suggestiveness-Insufferable Flirt (Thanks Chris), Shirtless!Chan (IT’S BED TIME), Swearing, Pet Names Used (Jagiya, Jagi, Baby, Sweetie, Love), Kisses (Duh)

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - NOT MENTIONED IN THIS PARTICULAR FIC

PART 4

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

—

It’s been another tiring day. Perhaps even more chaotic than ever before. Chris had given you warning, but JYPE had only just released the Skz Code Episode that they filmed ages ago here. Chris had argued to have it released at a later date, to protect your privacy and give you more time to live normally before things suddenly changed.

He was right of course, with Stay’s being the detectives they are, and Stray Kids being the famous idols they are, your Café was soon discovered, and before long you had a stream of customers flowing in and out practically around the clock. They’d take photos where the members sat, ask if they left messages around the place, ask you so many questions about them that you didn’t feel you had the right to answer.

Even with Ashley by your side, doing her best to help keep the business afloat on a daily basis things were strained. You’ve just recently set up an application process for new employees because dear lord, you needed them. Ashley even suggested adjusting your usual policy, which you were hesitant to do at first, but eventually caved at the exhaustion evident in your poor, younger friend and employee. 

Customers were no longer allowed to stay overnight, and you closed at 11pm rather than 1am now. It was perhaps your least favourite thing to do – going around to wake up sleeping customers when it was time to close shop. Chris was right, Ashley is bright… and awfully considerate. She even considered that it’d be beneficial for your relationship with Chris, closing shop early, so you can spend more time together when he’s here.

Naturally, Chris can no longer help you at the coffee machine, even if he wears a full disguise, Stay’s would recognise him immediately. Whenever he visits, he can’t do much except lounge around in your upstairs apartment. It pains you to have to lock him up, but both of you know you can’t risk a scandal. Previously, Ashley would be able to hold the fort, allowing you and Chris to escape out on a little date, but not now… now you’re too busy to leave Ash by herself. You really really need new employees. Preferably people who aren’t Stay’s… so you can explain your relationship with Chris and not have them leak any information. 

This… this is too much.

–

You sigh and rest your forehead on the cold glass of the window. You’re meant to be pulling down the shutters, having finally kicked James out of your Café. As per usual, he was asking too many questions, wondering why you’re suddenly so busy. He asked you out again the other day, and you finally snapped. You told him, straight and clear, that you were taken. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea, because he now spends a lot of his time asking you who you’re dating; of course, you can’t tell him.

A pitiful groan rumbles through your throat, and you try to quell the hurricane of thoughts swirling incessantly in your mind. The chill of the glass is a small reprieve, but it still hurts to think.

“Jagiya… baby, are you okay?” someone calls out to you. Your heart leaps into your throat at the endearment, and you muster the energy to spin yourself around, eyes lazily falling onto the man standing at the bottom of the staircase, his face distorted in concern.

“Another boring day for you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, Chris,” you murmur, dragging yourself towards him with your head drooping. He meets you halfway, immediately pulling you into a tight embrace and placing an affectionate kiss on the top of your head, “Sweetie it’s okay. I’m perfectly happy to work on our songs all day.”

You sigh into his shirt and twist the fabric in your hands desperately, your heart aching, “You might be but I’m not…” you pull away so you can see his face and pout sadly, “You’re meant to be here on break, not working away.”

His soft smile causes your heart to melt, the ache only intensifying after he pecks your nose with a delicate kiss, “Jagi. You’re working, so why can’t I?”

You frown at him and lightly thump your forehead into his chest several times, frustrated, “We both shouldn’t be working.” His hand drifts up to knot itself in your hair, stopping your actions, “Shhh shh, don’t be like that baby.” You grumble and pull away from him properly, but not before he swoops in to kiss your cheek. 

“It isn’t so bad… once you finish closing up we can hang out, yeah?” his eyes are sparkling mischievously, and you sigh in resignation, knowing that he’s right. You turn to finish closing the shutters, and Chris continues to talk, “Besides, I’m the one who should be apologising…” The shutter hits the ground with a little click, “Why?”

“If I hadn’t asked to film that episode here your business would never have gotten this busy,” he frowns, absently fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. You swivel on your heel and stalk up to him, “Don’t-” you lightly pinch his arm, “-you say that. Ever.”

Chris smiles shyly down at you, his gaze sorrowful, guilty. You shake your head at him, grab his wrist and tug him along up the stairs, “Come on, you go wash up and I’ll whip up a late dinner, if you haven’t eaten already.” 

Chris pushes ahead of you suddenly, opening your apartment door with an elegant twist of the door handle, “There’s no need baby, dinner’s in the fridge. I’ll heat your share up for you.”  You blink at him in confusion, but he merely grins back at you. “You… cooked me dinner?”

Chris snatches at your waist and pulls you in for a swift kiss, stunning you, “Anything to make your life easier.”

–

After half an hour of arguing with Chris about why he shouldn’t have cooked dinner for you (in which you only shut up after he physically shoved food into your mouth), you’re now sitting comfortably in your bed, blankets pulled over your knees, as your eyes skim the page of the book you’re reading. Chris insisted you wash up first, so you’re currently waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom.

“Tomorrow’s Wednesday isn’t it?” He asks, emerging from the bathroom in only his boxers. Your eyes briefly flicker from your book to the defined lines of his abs, before you return to nonchalantly reading, “Yeah. Café’s closed tomorrow.” “You can look longer you know,” Chris grins, his arms crossed over his chest. “Shut up,” you grumble back, turning to the next page of your book.

Chris giggles happily and crawls into the bed next to you, his arms immediately taking residence around your waist despite you sitting upright. “Mmh you smell good,” he mumbles, and you spare him a glance. His nose is buried in your shirt, his hair askew over his eyes. Carefully, you brush the curls away, and he snuggles even closer, “I just showered.” 

Chris’ voice comes out muffled, “Okay and? I just showered and I don’t smell as good as you.”  This elicits a small chuckle from you, “Maybe you should start using my products then.” He inhales obnoxiously and then sighs in content, “I think I will.”

“Chris, I’ll be back, I've got to turn the lights off,” you murmur, massaging his scalp briefly. He only tightens his hold on you, a little whine escaping, “No. You stay.” “Baby let me go please.” “No.” “You literally left them on.”  Chris sighs and rolls away from you, his displeasure evident on his face, “Fineeee.”

You roll your eyes at him and pad over to the bathroom, hyper aware of your boyfriend watching your every movement. He sits up as you amble over to turn off the light for the bedroom, your thumb holding the current page in the book you’re reading. Finally, in the darkness, you fumble around for the lamp beside your bed so you can continue reading for a little longer. Its warm glow reveals Chris still watching you, a half-smile, half-smirk plastered on his face.

As you crawl back into bed and try to get comfortable, Chris chuckles and leans his head back onto the headboard, “You might as well call me that lamp,” he begins, eyes boring into the ceiling as though something fascinating was up there.

“Why…?” you pause, preparing yourself for the inevitable joke you’re about to hear. Chris grins evilly, and tilts his head towards you lazily, “Because you turn me on.” You hiss and make to whack him on the head with your book, but his reflexes kick in and he swiftly grabs your wrist.

“Oh I knew you were going to do that,” he laughs, leaning over so he can kiss a trail of warmth down your trapped arm. Your eyes are wide as he grins sinfully up at you, his tongue poking his cheek playfully. “Go to bed you little shit,” you gripe, yanking your wrist away from him and turning the lamp off in a rash decision. 

At least he can’t see the crimson blush on your face now.

“Awh… you don’t want to read anymore?” he mocks, his arms finding home around your waist again, pulling you in close so he’s spooning you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “Nope. We’re sleeping now,” you demand, linking one of your hands with one of his that’s on your stomach.

The pair of you settle into silence, your mind drifting off into haze at the steady sound of Chris’ breathing, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. You’ve been absently tracing his knuckles, trying to memorise the specific rise and fall of each, and the spacing between them. After a while, you stop, not because you want to, but because your mind has fallen deep into that state of fuzziness between almost falling asleep and being barely conscious.

“Is it possible to get… water hungry?” Chris murmurs, dragging you out of your semi-slumber. “Hmm?” you croak, as Chris adoringly rubs his nose on the back of your neck, making you shiver. You can feel him grin at your reaction, and you’re half tempted to shove him away from you so you can sleep in peace.

“Water hungry. Is that a thing?” he repeats, and the question properly registers in your brain.  You frown and shimmy yourself around, so your noses are now touching. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you squint to try and see his eyes in the darkness, “Do you mean thirsty?” 

A small smile cracks onto your face when Chris inhales sharply and stops breathing. After a loud silence, he makes a noise of embarrassment, and you giggle lightly. “I think I’m tired,” he whispers, trying to inch himself even closer to you. “Then go to sleep,” you scoff, closing your eyes again. “Can’t,” he bites back. “Why not?”

“You’re not hugging me,” Chris’ leg shifts to tangle itself in between yours, and after another little giggle, you wrap your arms around his waist, resuming your soothing rubs on his back this time. “Your hands are cold,” he complains against your lips.

“Then put on a damn shirt.”  “Awh but you like it when I’m not wearing one.” Stomach swooping, you blow sharply on his face in feigned annoyance, causing him to draw back slightly with a laugh. “Go to fucking sleep,” you say once more, because clearly he didn’t understand you the first time.

–

Later on in the night, the bathroom summons you, and with a quiet grumble, you roll yourself out of bed. Thankfully, Chris has drifted over to his side of the bed in his sleep and doesn’t have himself tangled around you. Carefully, you click on your lamp and tiptoe to use the toilet. 

When you’re done, you decide you don’t really want to go back to bed yet. Instead, you crawl over to sit cross-legged on the floor, analysing your boyfriend’s face in the half-light of the room. He’s snoring gently, his lips slightly parted. Your heart softens at the way his cheek is squished up against his arm, strands of his curly hair clinging adorably to his forehead.

You hoist yourself up onto your knees and brush the strands back, heart swelling as your gratitude for his existence threatens to tumble out of your mouth. No, you must stay quiet. Don’t wake him, he needs to sleep. You’re still stroking his hair back softly, your thumb brushing his forehead delicately when his snoring stops.

You gulp and pull away from him, hurrying back around the bed so you can crawl back under the covers, Chris’ back to you. Still, you don’t turn the lamp off, not entirely finished with admiring him, even from behind. His back is slightly exposed to you after you had pulled the covers down to get out of bed, and you make no move to hide it again. 

It’s in this moment, smiling gently at his figure, your heart full to the brim, that you realise it all over again. He’s yours. You’re his. You’d die for this man. You’d play limbo with the devil just to crawl your way back up to him. You’d pledge your life to counting the stars if he so asked. It doesn’t matter that it would take forever, because your forever lies within him.

You shuffle closer, and after a brief hesitation, begin to happily trace the lines of his back muscles, relishing in the softness of his skin. You pause, checking to make sure he’s still sleeping, and then continue your drawing motions. You’re lost in thought, thinking about where you could possibly take him out to tomorrow because you’re finally free. Your gaze is watching your fingers absently move, but you’re not really paying attention. It’s after a minute of repeating the same action that you realise what you’ve done.

Subconsciously, you’ve been writing the same words over and over on his back. You stop, fingers ghosting his skin, and swallow. Then one more time, confirming it for yourself, you rewrite the same words.

I Love You

You do. You love him. You love- you love him. This sudden understanding causes you to gasp slightly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You trace the lines again, a little faster this time, fully picturing the words on his back. 

Chris abruptly rolls over, his eyes immediately boring into yours, and your hand snaps up to your mouth in an attempt to stifle your surprise. He’s smiling softly, eyes crinkling in delight.vSlowly, he reaches for the hand covering your mouth, opening your palm out to him. With a single finger, he lightly traces your palm, and you realise almost instantly that he’s writing letters, one by one. 

He's nibbling his bottom lip slightly in concentration, and when he finishes, his eyes flicker back up to you. You know of course, exactly what he’s written there, each stroke of his finger sending the letters jolting towards your heart. You had just spent the past few minutes writing the exact same thing on his back. You’re still silent though, trying to process, mind whirring faster than it ever has before. Chris takes your silence as confusion and begins to write the words again, as gentle as the first time.

He's halfway through writing “love” when you slip your wrist out from his hand and promptly bury your face into his chest, hands snaking around his back tightly.

“Are you serious?” you whisper, curling up on yourself, face burning. “Are you?” he whispers back, caressing the back of your head. You pull away from him and sit up, eyes wide with shock. He stares right back at you, waiting for your answer, his dark eyes searching yours. You lean down and peck his forehead, “I love you,” then his right cheek, “I love you,” his nose, “I love you,” his chin. 

You kiss him everywhere you can possibly reach from his shoulders up, avoiding his lips for whatever instinctive reason, repeating those same words over and over again, a mantra.  Your actions reduce Chris to a mess of giggles and happy laughs, “Okay, okay, okay!”

He grabs the back of your head and roughly pulls you in for a real kiss, but his lips are soft against yours, tender. When you pull away, your lips still linger, and it is like this that you feel and hear him say the disastrous words back, “I love you too.” Your laugh comes out as a breathy giggle, and suddenly you’re kissing him again, everywhere you can. “Baby, baby,” he laughs, “Stop it.”

But you can’t. You literally, physically can’t. Somehow you’ve managed to crawl on top of him, straddling his bare chest. Chris grabs your shoulders and pushes you up, grinning at you from below, “Since when were you this affectionate?” he coos, hands sliding over to cup your face and squish your cheeks. You roll your eyes at him and press on his chest lightly, again, feigning annoyance.

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs with a dopey expression, “My love is adorable.” “Shut up,” you whine, collapsing on top of him and hiding in his neck. My love. My love. My fucking love. “I love you. So much. And you love me back,” Chris laughs, wrapping his arms securely around you, “Wow! You love me back. Wow… This is the best day of my life.” “I said shut up,” you grumble.

–

You wake in the darkness, mind immediately tracking back to your moment of “I love you’s” earlier, butterflies swirling intensely in your stomach. Then you realise the reason you’ve woken up in the dead of night again, is because Chris isn’t sleeping with his arms around you. You roll over and find him sitting up in bed, his headphones snug around his ears, forehead creased in concentration as he clicks away on his laptop. You sit up and place your chin on his shoulder, staring at him with googly eyes. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Chris mumbles, turning his head slightly. “What’re you doing awake?” you ask, carefully slipping the headphones off his head to rest around his neck. “Mmh… inspiration struck me, so I wrote a new song,” his eyes haven’t left his computer screen, even without his headphones on he continues to work.

“Chris it’s 2am,” you sigh, taking over the touchpad to check the time in the top right hand corner, “go back to sleep, love.”  He inhales sharply and fully turns towards you, a slow grin emerging, “You see, that is exactly why I cannot sleep.” You blink at him in confusion, and he elaborates, “You can’t just brush my hair out of my face, spend the next five minutes writing ‘I love you’ over and over again on my back, pepper me with a billion kisses, and then expect me to sleep.”

You grin shyly at him, your head drooping, “Now you’re just making me feel bad because I fell asleep.” “No. No that is not what I-” You interrupt him by reaching over and sliding his computer out of his hands. Carefully, you hit the command to save his work, eyes briefly skimming over the saved title ‘For My Love’. 

“You were inspired to write a song for me?” you chuckle, closing the laptop and removing his headphones from his neck.  Carefully, you place them both on your bedside table, and grope around to pull him down into the bed. You can tell by how warm his face is when you press close that he’s blushing.

“So what if I was?” he asks. “So… I think you’re really cute, but your love wants you to get more sleep,” you giggle, pulling his head underneath your chin.  “Okay…” he mumbles, breath growing laboured with sleep.

–

Chris wakes with his nose buried in your hair, and he immediately grins. He abandons your warmth to grab his phone and check the time. It’s just past 9am, you both should really get up and get going, but he doesn’t particularly feel like it. You roll onto your back in your sleep, and a mischievous glint catches his eye when he notices your shirt hike up a little, revealing your bare stomach.

Chris swiftly scampers into the adjacent office, plucks a random marker from your desk, and then carefully crawls back onto the bed, doing his best to not wake you. He lifts your shirt up a little higher, then with his tongue sticking out, uncaps the marker and writes the message ‘Chris was here!!’ on your stomach, complete with his little dino-worm drawing.

Just as he’s finishing up, you groan and your eyes flutter open, noting the sharp prod of something on your stomach. In a second however, it disappears, and Chris has crawled on top of you. He moves to kiss your cheek, but still hazy with sleep, you don’t register what he’s doing and accidentally move your head.

What was meant to be a wholesome good morning peck turns into a surprising peck on the lips. You stare at him with wide eyes, and his cheeks immediately bloom red. You grin at how embarrassed he is and lean up to give him a legitimate kiss good morning. You’re both grinning like idiots now, and you’ve completely forgotten about whatever it was that Chris was doing on your stomach earlier.

Exactly Chris’ plan. Distraction… successful.

“Good morning sunshine…” he happily chirps, the familiar endearment causing you to smile happily. This time though, you have an idea. “Good morning moonlight,” your smile intensifies as Chris pauses, stunned, and you wriggle your way into a seated position, forcing him to do the same.

“Moonlight?” he questions, his voice cracking slightly in the early morning. “Yeah. Moonlight. ‘Cause even in the darkness you still shine.” Chris blinks at you, then after a second, grabs your arm to pull you into his lap, “Okay sure,” he pecks the top of your head, a favourite action of his, “but you got one thing wrong. If you’re my sunshine and I’m your moonlight… then I shine because you do.”

You laugh and let Chris drag you both under the blankets again, hugging you tightly as if his life depended on it. After a minute of tranquil silence, you yawn, stretch and move to get up and out of bed. Chris doesn't crack open an eye as he grabs your head and forces you back down into the pillow, causing you to yelp.

“Chris! We’ve got to get up now,” you chide, pushing yourself back up and glaring at him. He’s smirking cheekily but his eyes are still closed, and you shake your head at him, “C’mon.” "Who says we have to get up?” he asks, finally staring back at you.

“I do.” You demand, and a little staring contest is initiated, neither of you blinking. Chris begins to pull faces and tease you, but you refuse to give in to his antics. “Okay fine fine,” he relents, “I’m getting up. But come here first.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Please,” he adds with a tiny nod. Bewildered, you shuffle over to him, only to scream in shock when he swiftly grabs your shirt and pulls it up over your head. The act is so out of the blue, and he’s unnecessarily strong that you can’t do anything about it. He runs off with your shirt and you curse, chasing him out of the bedroom and into the lounge room.

Chris grins like a mad man, sticking his tongue out at you from the other side of the couch. “Give me my shirt you fucking rascal,” you spit, but you’re grinning just as hard.

“Come and get it,” he teases, waving it around like it’s a flag. You move to one side of the couch, and he moves to the other. You both run in circles around the couch, giggling and yelling. Eventually, out of breath and panting, Chris laughing his heart out with his hands resting on his knees, you decide that this game should come to an end. While he’s occupied, you leap over the top of the couch and tackle him to the ground.

“Oh shit-” Chris wheezes as you wrangle your shirt out of his fist. You’re about to put it back on, when Chris sits up and stops you, struggling to talk properly through his laughter, “Hang on, babe wait. Look down.”

You do, your arms up in the air, halfway through the sleeves of your shirt. It takes you a moment to read his little message, and then with a yell, you use your shirt to whack him repeatedly.

His laughter doesn’t cease even after he’s pulled you on top of him to stop your playful, indignant hits. “God I love you,” he chokes out, resting his head back onto the floor, “Don’t rub it off, leave it there for the rest of today.” “I love you too, but I can’t leave it there, what if people see?” “Who’s going to see it underneath your shirt?” “What if I wanted to wear something cropped today?” “Then wear something cropped. Let the whole world know who you belong to.” “Chris. You know I can’t do that.” “Mmh but I want the whole world to know.” “Christopher.” “Fine fineeeee, okayyyyy. Just don’t wear anything cropped then. Want one of my hoodies?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> PART 5 　 -> Masterlist

A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 4 Check!

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read! - Kaisowoo

[wanderingaldecaldo]

2025 Writing Resolutions

I'm not usually one for resolutions but I've been kicking around the idea of having some writing goals after the post I shared last week, and came up with a few that are feasible:

Finish the first draft for one (or both!) of the stories I started last year in new-to-me fandoms

Edit and post the Presidential PWP

Finish the DA:I Blackwall fic that's been 95% complete for years

Daily 15min sprint

Some personal musings about writing (and reading) and WIPs under the cut.

Last fall I lost my Cyberpunk hyperfixation but, after three years of nonstop Val and Mitch (and Rosalind) through VP and modding, it's been a boon to my writing, and once more I'm reminded why I love hate one of my oldest hobbies. I really wish I could reassure my younger self that actually, no, I'll never run out of things to write.

Over my tumblr break, I rewatched the whole Daniel Craig Bond series, all because I really wanted to watch Skyfall, my fave of the entire franchise. Something new happened this time around as I watched the films — Judi Dench and Daniel Craig's chemistry gripped me by the throat and wouldn't let go.

I'm not generally one to visit AO3 (or ff.net back in the day) after consuming a piece of media; I could list out the ones that have on two hands, and still have several fingers left over, even with including the new ones mentioned here.

This time, I was lucky to have found a ship with a backlog of fics to work through. For weeks I read fics, and rewatched their scenes ad nauseam, ever thankful I'd bought the 4-disc set and wasn't reliant having the correct streaming service. Eventually inspiration struck and I started what I thought would be a oneshot. But where there's a WIP there's always more ideas lurking around the corner, and suddenly the oneshot developed into two chapters, with the second spinning quickly into a third.

Over the course of a two-week head cold that knocked out all writing aspirations, I binged all of Ted Lasso and became enamored with the characters and themes, but especially the relationship between Ted and Rebecca. As I watched, I didn't know the status of the show; in fact I had assumed season 4 was in the works. :sad trombone: No slow burn for me. After I finished it, I wanted to rewatch it immediately but decided not to; I wanted to sit with it first, to let it digest. I really didn't think I'd reach the AO3 stage — usually it's like the proverbial bolt of lightning that strikes quickly — but this time, appropriately, it was the friends-to-lovers trope that I adore.

Again, I was lucky to find a veritable treasure trove of fics. I wasn't the only one who wanted more of those two, and again, I found myself inspired with an idea that was two lines of dialog and half a scene held together with spit and twine, and since then it's spaghettied into —yes, you guessed it — three chapters.

Neither of them are anywhere close to being shitty first drafts; they're hand-scratched pages written over consecutive nights where I wrote seven sentences, or maybe seven words or even paragraphs, before nodding off over the notebook. The 00M fic has 2k words transcribed, and that's just the first half of the first chapter, while the rest is mostly vibes and smut, and now there's a fourth chapter, because of course there is. The tedbecca has less than a quarter of that, but it's at least all transcribed now.

Enter Cyberpunk 2.2 and remaking Val and falling in love with this stupid kleptopunk streetrat all over again. Glory shared a "what AO3 tag are you" quiz and I got "only one bed" and said it was ironic since I'd never written one, and she jokingly (???) challenged me to change that. Welp, friends, my brain couldn't stop poking at that and now I have an idea for a new fic featuring fan fave "only one bed" trope, and also a fix-it, another first. Usually I am content to leave canon as is and play within the margins and behind-the-scenes of what we're given, though maybe I will add my own touch to scenes; but I always felt that Driss's death was cheap and easy to avoid. Maybe if we'd been given an actual RPG with real choices, it could have been, but that's a topic for a different rant.

And with the reignited love for Cyberpunk, plus the desire to mark things off my to-do list, I opened the Presidential PWP tonight when I was going through my folders, and my god, it happened — I'd forgotten it! I read a few paragraphs and decided I need to save the reread for another night when I can read it uninterrupted and take fresh notes on it. Probably should recruit a beta, too.

Another very long standing to-do is the Blackwall fic. I started it in maybe 2015, and worked on it off-and-on for a couple of years alongside a ME Shakarian/Shaeed love triangle (don't at me), trading off between them as the hyperfixations switched back and forth. The Blackwall fic is a true oneshot and has been waiting on an ending for for 6+ years now. It's literally 95% done, and I fucking adore it so much, and just need to Write It, and get that draft out the door (and maybe to a beta? idk, we'll see).

So that gets to the last resolution — this is the one that I know I'll fail in that I won't do it daily; I will miss days. But it's an aspirational goal, and I know firsthand how beneficial writing daily is, even if I only get a few words out of it. It still gets the ol' compost bin in my brain going in the background, churning all those ideas and thoughts into more WIPs.

I've also been thinking about the why. Writing is one of my oldest hobbies, following reading and video games. Returning to the Cyberpunk setting runs the risk of me picking up VP and modding again, newer hobbies that offer faster and more immediate feedback from other fans; hobbies that I know will cut into both my desire to write and my free time. By writing out my... writing resolutions, it will be easier to remember my priorities for the year.

Rat asked about our writing accomplishments in 2024. I answered that I wrote four new characters in two new-to-me fandoms, and that I let myself move from projects as did my interest without guilt. Now, it feels freeing to have four fandoms and a dozen stories to choose between when I want to write, but I will say the color-coded notebooks are getting hard to keep track of.

[unknownmelodies]

Slasher band!au canons facts of Lyn

She addresses most people, including acquaintances and friends, by their last names. (Heelshire, Lenz, Emory, yadeeyadda, etc.) especially when she first meets them, or they are significant people for her mother, so she has to offer them absolute respect.

Speaking of that, she knows a number of violinists and pianists from numerous competitions; she can still recall some of them, particularly the tall, short, browned-haired one who has gained fame with their height.

she loves summer themes stuff, whether it would be clothes, tasty foods of that flavor, the season itself she loves it, summer brings all of the nostalgia she missed back then return.

she goes to the beach with Asa and Jesse alot, and she has earned really strong tan lines over her body

while it was said she uses last names for aqquintences, she yet teases the two myer's with nicknames, she first reffered to them as micheal and mickey, but after some looks and first impressions she decided to have some fun with micheals anger issues

she began wearing more clothes that shes ACTUALLY comfortable in like band shirts baggier clothes not some neck suffocating turtle neck and some short ass skirt

her likes are street food, hanging out with her trusted friends, practicing guitar, and playing 2000's flash games

she has a stream channel where she plays some time on weekends she uses the money to donate to charities

Her greatest annoyances are crowded areas, rude people, unappreciative people in general, and people who either side eye or tease them (until death), as well as vegetables, tomato soup, anything that reminds her of past thats not quite nostalgic.

when she began playing in the band she had never expected to be treated the same by asa and jesse as a former band member beacuse she assumed she would be trated the same as she was treated in her old job, which wasnt really pleasant

she needs ressurements for the smallest things, what she rarely asks from asa and jesse. especially in early days of her join

she finally got to express herself amoungst the crowd that loves for her, for her. and the music they play kick ass. its good to not listen to beethoven on a daily basis and then learn it on piano

her, lester, billy, and stu back when they hung out in HS they would cause all kinds of problems and chaos, lyn was more pulled back on that, but she liked watching it happen, just a bit..

listens to KORN on blast every night before bed, and listens to amy winehouse, avril lavigne, christina aguilera, and other famous 2000s female singers in the morning, with jesse's approval.

[eleni-cherie]

DAILY REMINDER TO BOYCOTT HYBE

BOYCOTTS AND PRESSURE IS WORKING! we're getting attention from big media outlets + locals (and positive feedback from them) + stocks are falling! AND THAT'S THE ONLY THING BIG CORPORATIONS CARE ABOUT: MONEY.

IT'S IMPORTANT TO DEPLATFORT ZIONISTS LIKE SC**TER, IT SHOULD BE NORMALIZED LIKE KICKING OUT NAZIS AND OTHER RACISTS AND NOT GIVING THEM A PLATFORM TO SPREAD THEIR PROPAGANDA OR GIVE THEM MONEY TO FOUND/SUPPORT IT.

HYBE started panicking hence their bs statement trying distancing themselves from 🛵's views (always the first pr step) SO WE HAVE TO KEEP THE PRESSURE GOING!

loona stans managed freeing them from their shady company by completely boycotting their comeback & any other content + boycotts have been historically proven to be important for social movements along w donating & demonstrating (see BDS movement) - so don't listen to anyone saying boycotts wouldn't work!

SEND EMAILS AND PHYSICAL MAILS TO HYBE (templates & addresses here)

SIGN THE PETITION

IF YOU'RE FROM CALI, GO TO THE PROTEST AT HYBE AMERICA'S HQ ON THE 21ST & 22ND MARCH

SPAM THEIR SNS W THE #HYBEDIVESTFROMZIONISM #하이브는시오니스트를퇴출하라 TAGS

PLEASE DON'T GIVE THEM ANY PENNY FROM YOUR MONEY! DON'T BUY MERCH, ALBUMS AND 🏴‍☠️ CONTENT (I know many already do so w paid video content & online concerts so keep it up and also 🏴‍☠️ stream, do it the old school way: listen to your already bought CDs, reuploaded videos from non-company yt accounts or download songs w mp3 converters)

SPREAD!

AND THIS DOESN'T ONLY GO FOR HYBE BUT ALSO HYBE AMERICA ARTISTS!

Here's a full list of artists under HYBE & HYBE AMERICA (+THEIR SUB-LABEL QUALITY CONTROL):

Obviously all the other non-kpop fandoms (especially Taylor Swift's) are also invited to join us in getting rid of this man!! If you know any, let them know!

[reviewsbyliam]

Nicki Minaj - Last Time I Saw You

(Single Review)

01/09/23

Friendly Reminder: make sure to listen to the song whilst reading!

Nicki Minaj for Last Time I Saw You

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Kicking off September with the supposed lead single from her highly anticipated 5th album 'Pink Friday 2' is none other than Nicki Minaj.

Last Time I Saw You is the 3rd single to be released from her upcoming album, with 1 & 2 being the #1 HIT Super Freaky Girl and Red Ruby Da Sleeze which introduced her new alter ego, Red Ruby Da Sleeze.

Earlier today, Nicki spoke with Zane Lowe on the New Music Daily series which is platformed by Apple Music Radio, touching on the subjects behind the song.

She indicated that it's partly about her late Father, Robert Maraj, who was killed in a hit-and-run in February of 2021, also adding; "The vibe of it was really talking about a loss, a real loss you know. But to not make the song feel only directed at one kind of loss. When I wrote the singing verse, I tried to expand it and think even about relationships. And then by the time I got to the rap, it was like I had included all relationships that I had lost before, because I mentioned even best friends and stuff like that."

Never forgetting to also pay homage to her own personal growth, Nicki stated; "I just wanted the next song that I put out to represent my growth, but not just as an artist, but as a human being. I’ve experienced so many things that I hadn’t experienced five years ago, and that’s just the truth."

Talking earlier today to Zane Lowe about the current rap climate, Nicki said: "I felt that if I don’t take the risk, that I’m just as bad as everyone else who I think should make a change. And not only artists, but people behind the scenes. Because the truth of the matter is people are experiencing real life every day. Believe it or not, people are going through real shit every day. So just because they don’t have that music out to express it, it doesn’t mean they’re not experiencing it."

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Taking risks from the music she has previously put out was the best choice for Nicki, as it proves that no matter how long she has been in the game for; she'll always find a way to create a new wave and ride it like no other whilst managing to stay relatable with her sound and writing.

Diversity in your lyricism and flow alongside experimenting with beats is something that many rappers lack so they choose to stick to their comfort zones, but for Nicki? That's not her story. Each album she has put out for public consumption has been consistently different. From flows, beats, lyrics, alter egos, stories - nothing is the same. Nicki being 15 years into her career and still finding ways to elevate her musical skill is truly inspirational.

After becoming a mother and surviving a very consistent hate train from the general public in 2018 that lasted for a couple years, it's more obvious now than ever that Nicki is ready to show the world what shes made of once again and gently but savagely remind people that whilst they might be able to play with others, they can't play with her. At all.

I'm personally extremely excited for her new album and eager to hear what sounds she has been experimenting with in her studio, alongside everything else that comes. Being a fan since Pink Friday was first released in 2010, it always is anxiety inducing when you don't exactly know where your favorite artists creative mind is directing itself, but then I also find that's what makes it so exciting about being a fan of that person, because when their past work is so consistent and still streamed to this day, you know you won't be let down no matter what, especially when its a mastermind like Nicki Minaj.

PINK FRIDAY 2 OUT NOVEMBER 17TH 2023

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CONCLUSION: A very emotionally layered track from Nicki that is upbeat and catchy whilst managing to stay unique, securing it's destiny for greatness. I (like many others) found myself able to relate on a personal level with past and current situations and even found myself getting a bit emotional at one point once I understood her own personal connections with the song. A very cohesive, well produced track with outstanding vocals and flow from Nicki.

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Last Time I Saw You is a certified 10/10 by Reviews By Liam

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

Thank you for checking out my review of Nicki Minaj's new single Last Time I Saw You!

If you would like to listen to Last Time I Saw You, it is available to stream on Spotify and Apple Music, or purchase from iTunes.

Please support my blog by giving me a follow and sharing my reviews with your family and friends, whilst not forgetting to leave your own comments below!

X (Twitter): reviewsbyliam

Instagram: reviewsbyliam

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: february 24, 2017. FEATURING: rosa cortez, juliana cortez, elena cortez, and the grand first appearance of flora cortez. LOCATION: emilio's living room and bedroom in mexico. SUMMARY: emilio gets a pep talk from his sister just before being thrust into fatherhood. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

24 FEBRUARY 2017.

The living room was relatively small, comparatively speaking. It took Emilio twenty steps to pace from one wall to the other. Less if he lengthened his stride. He’d gotten it down to twelve once, with steps so wide it was a little embarrassing. He did it in seventeen now, shuffling the last one as he took a breath. One hand came up to his head, tangling in his hair as he glanced to the bedroom door.

The door to the outside opened, sunlight streaming in behind Rosa as she stepped in and shut the door behind her. She looked taken aback to see him there, crossing the room to meet him in the middle with eight long steps. He wondered, absently, if she could pace the length of the living room in less than twelve, if this, too, was something she was better at. He pushed the thought aside. Stupid. It was stupid. Everything seemed so stupid.

“What are you doing out here, Milio? Did something…?” She glanced to the bedroom door, and he shook his head quickly.

“Everything’s okay, I think. ‘Ana just kicked me out. Said I was stressing her out more than the rest of it.”

Rosa snorted. “I’d believe it. You were bad enough with me when it was Jaime. Can’t imagine how much worse you are now.”

“I forgot it was like that. Looks more like a battlefield.”

“No it doesn’t.” Rosa’s smile was small, sly. “You’d know what to do on a battlefield.” 

Emilio snorted, some of the tension leaving his chest because Rosa was good at that. They didn’t always get along — that was the nature of siblings, he knew, especially siblings in such constant competition with one another — but when they did, his sister always knew exactly what to say to tame the tangled web of his thoughts. Better than Edgar did, better than Victor had ever gotten a chance to try. The only one who might challenge her for top spot in the game of knowing how to settle Emilio’s uneasy mind was Rhett, and the warden wasn’t here now. 

Gently, Rosa nudged his shoulder with hers. “You should go in.”

“She kicked me out,” Emilio reminded her. “She doesn’t want me in there.”

“She does. She’s stressed and in pain and probably a little bit terrified, but she wants you there. She married your dumb ass, didn’t she? She chose to get stuck with you. The rest of us just had you tacked on.” The words stung a little; the teasing was a little too close to the truth, he knew. Emilio, in comparison to his siblings, was unnecessary and often unwanted.

But not to Juliana. 

“Any final words of wisdom before I step back into the thick of it?” He raised a brow, smiling faintly and pretending her words didn’t sting, pretending nothing did. Rosa had the good grace to do the same, shrugging a shoulder.

“Don’t let ‘em see the whites of your eyes.”

Nodding to her, Emilio took a deep breath. Ten paces to the bedroom door. His hand hovered over the knob, and he drew another lungful of air before nudging it open.

Juliana was on the bed, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. Her eyes found his across the room, and relief flooded her features. Immediately, the anxiety he’d felt at the door dissipated. “Milio,” she breathed, thrusting out a hand towards him. He walked over to the bed, slipping his hand in hers. She squeezed it so tight he thought his fingers might break.

“One more push,” his mother said from the foot of the bed, methodical. There was no joy in her face; she looked less like a woman helping to deliver her grandchild and more like someone ticking off a checklist of daily chores. Emilio looked away, focusing instead on pushing Juliana’s damp hair away from her forehead.

The pressure on his hand increased momentarily as Juliana pushed, but Emilio hardly noticed it, because with the height of that pressure came a sound. A shrill cry piercing the air, new lungs drawing in oxygen for the first time and releasing it with so much noise that it was almost as if they were protesting. 

“A girl,” his mother announced. A weight was shoved into Emilio’s hands; a necessary thing instead of a thoughtful gesture. His mother needed both hands free to finish, and Juliana was still weak from her efforts. Had anyone else been standing in Emilio’s spot, they would have been handed that wriggling mass, too. Had he not reentered the room, the child would have been placed on the floor. That was how it went, he knew. “That’s good. We’ve had more luck with girls, lately.”

His mother’s words struck something in him, some childish sense of accomplishment as if his mother being pleased that his child was a girl was the same as his mother being proud of him for something he’d done intentionally. He looked down at the shape in his arms. She wasn’t crying anymore; dark eyes were blinking up at him, face scrunched up in a way that almost seemed thoughtful. 

It felt like being hit by lightning, looking at her for the first time. He put a finger in her tiny hand, and she gripped it with more strength than should have been possible for something so small. He sucked in a breath.

“Call her what you want,” Juliana said from the bed, sounding drained. “I’m going to take a nap. Just don’t make it something stupid, Milio. I’m not calling her Emilia.” He snorted at the suggestion, rolling his eyes. 

“Flora,” he said quietly. “I like Flora.”

“Okay,” Juliana agreed. “Flora it is. Flora Emilia Cortez.” He looked over to her, bemused expression on his face, and she shrugged. “I just like the name. It isn’t about you. You’re a little conceited, darling, has anyone ever told you that?” 

Rolling his eyes again, he knelt down, letting her take a look. “We did a pretty good job,” he told her quietly.

“We? Which one of us just pushed her out?”

“I helped a little.”

“You can help when she needs potty training. That’s how you pay me back.”

Laughing, he nodded his head. “Okay,” he agreed. “Deal.”

[grewtgfr]

🗓️ Jadwal Siaran Bola: Your Daily Football Broadcast Schedule

For passionate football fans, keeping track of upcoming matches is essential. That’s where Jadwal Siaran Bola (Football Broadcast Schedule) comes in — your daily companion for knowing when and where to watch live football.

Whether it's international clashes, league derbies, or cup showdowns, Jadwal Siaran Bola provides:

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With football happening across the globe every day — from Liga 1 Indonesia, Premier League, Serie A, to La Liga — it’s easy to miss important games. But with Jadwal Siaran Bola, you stay organized and never miss a match again.

Accessible on mobile and desktop, this schedule service is perfect for fans who value convenience, clarity, and consistency.

Stay ahead of the game — check Jadwal Siaran Bola every day and never miss a kick!

[soundomachine]

🎶 "Don't Leave Me Behind, I'm Human" | Official Lyric Video 🎶

"Don’t Leave Me Behind, I’m Human" explores the emotional cost of being left behind as AI and robotics reshape the future of work. 🤖 As machines take over more roles in our daily lives, where do we—humans with heart ❤️ and soul 💭—still belong?

This official lyric video features a haunting image of a lone human 🧍‍♂️ sitting on a park bench 🪑, looking lost and hopeless 😔, while humanoid robot cleaners 🧽 quietly scrub the park around him. It’s a quiet but powerful visual—a reminder of the shift happening all around us 🔄.

This song is for anyone feeling left behind in this high-tech world 🌍. It’s emotional 😢. It’s real ✊. It’s a wake-up call 🚨.

🎧 Listen now and ask yourself — what does it mean to be human in the age of machines?

🔥 Stream & Download "On Your List" now! 🔥

📌 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/3KTITEIARRM6EL9fPBc6ku?si=f4545aed6f8249c6

📌 Apple Music & iTunes: https://music.apple.com/us/album/dont-leave-me-behind-im-human/1794443027?i=1794443028

📌 Amazon Music: https://music.amazon.com/tracks/B0DVR2XKL3?marketplaceId=ART4WZ8MWBX2Y&musicTerritory=CA&ref=dm_sh_5qwzmqyzzUGIdvsSGhPwPwWCO

📌 More Platforms – All other major platforms.

▶️ Follow Sound-O-Machine online:

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@SoundOMachine X (Twitter): https://twitter.com/soundomachine Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/soundomachine.bsky.social TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@soundomachine Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/soundomachine Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/soundomachine/

📜 LYRICS:

[Verse 1] I wake up every day, wondering where I stand Yesterday’s problems still weigh on my hands And today’s already a mess, more weight on my chest They tell me, “Move faster, or you’ll fade away” But how can I run when I’m stuck in this place?

[Pre-Chorus] Looking around for a glimpse of tomorrow A place where I still belong But the world is spinning at lightning speed And I’m barely holding on

[Chorus] Don’t leave me behind I still got it, I’m still strong Please, just hold my hand—don’t let me go Take me to the promised land Oh, I’m human—don’t cast me aside I am human, I’m still alive I’m human

[Verse 2] Hello, Mr. Robotic Sir—oh wait, AI I guess I was never built to survive They say I’m too slow, I’m just spare parts But I’ve got a soul, I’ve got a heart

[Pre-Chorus] They tell me, “Just wait, keep voting right” “One day, you’ll get your turn, gonna be alright” But all I see are broken dreams And bridges left to burn

[Chorus] Don’t leave me behind I still got it, I’m still strong Please, just hold my hand—don’t let me go Take me to the promised land Oh, I’m human—don’t cast me aside I am human, I’m still alive I’m human

[Bridge] Not long ago, we built the machines and AI Now they decide who lives and who dies Once we kicked them down the line Now they’re kicking us aside

[Chorus] Don’t leave me behind I still got it, I’m still strong Please, just hold my hand—don’t let me go Take me to the promised land Oh, I’m human—don’t cast me aside I am human, I’m still alive I’m human

[Outro] I breathe, I bleed, I dream, I fight, I won’t disappear into the night, Oh, oh, oh I'm human, I’m human…

[moochilatv]

John Calvin presents: Sturgeon Moon

Chill music, for a morning days

The fingerstyle guitar, bossa nova percussion, and loungy organ of heartland-rocker John Calvin’s new single “Sturgeon Moon” brings a carefree spirit to this song that embraces the freedom of New York City living. His poetic lyrics take nothing for granted while embracing a beautiful day, moving through trains, or sitting at a cafe sipping on coffee and wine.

RIYL: Father John Misty, Cass McCombs, Bill Callahan, Khruangbin, Kevin Morby, Springsteen, Jeff Tweedy

New LP Greener Fields & Fairer Seas (out Jan. 24) is a bold statement that no matter how bad things get, a silver lining always follows. Poetic lyrics weave through a rich tapestry of folk (and occasionally overdriven) guitars, organs, orchestral strings and gospel backing vocals, reminding us to pay attention to the world around us and to choose kindness in our daily lives. It’s an album that delves into the horrors of the pandemic years, while projecting hope through building a family, fatherhood and Texas. This is an album about growing up.

Stream Sturgeon Moon:

John Calvin - Greener Fields & Fairer Seas LP (out Jan. 24)

Americana heartland-rocker John Calvin’s new LP Greener Fields & Fairer Seas (out Jan. 24) is an antidote to the world’s ills. It’s a bold statement that no matter how bad things get, a silver lining always follows. Poetic lyrics weave through a rich tapestry of folk (and occasionally overdriven) guitars, organs, orchestral strings and gospel backing vocals, reminding us to pay attention to the world around us and to choose kindness in our daily lives. It’s an album that delves into the horrors of the pandemic years, while projecting hope through building a family, fatherhood and Texas. This is an album about growing up.

The tongue-in-cheek irony of the title Greener Fields & Fairer Seas isn’t lost on Calvin. “I have a wonderful life, wife and kids,” says Calvin. “I have a lot to be thankful for, but there’s always something more to strive for. Stumbling from bar to bar in my past life was fun, but having people in my life who believe in me inspires me to be a better person.”

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by John Calvin (@masquerademonday)

Written while Calvin was in the throes of COVID in the early days of the 2020 pandemic, the album kicks off with the uplifting “Rest of My Roads.” Piano and organ peek out before building into its cacophonous orchestral chorus. Eric DeFade’s wailing saxophone solo cuts through the maelstrom in this song about coming to terms with one’s mortality. It has the musical complexity and emotional resonance of The Band while utilizing the loud-quiet-loud ebb and flow of the Pixies. The uncertainty of the time is lyrically emphasized in the well-worn metaphor of, “We’re sowing those seeds / Just to watch ‘em grow.”

“I was shivering and sweating,” says Calvin. “I was looking out the window at the leaves and the shadows they were casting. It was a strange, Pink Floyd, psychedelic experience. The grocery stores were out of food and paper. I was eating the same Campbell’s soup every night, until I just stopped eating. People were dying and we didn’t know what was going to happen. It was scary knowing that my kids were relying on me for their safety. I made a promise to myself and my family to not take things for granted.”

The Tom Petty meets Wilco sincerity of “I Can Make Your Heart Mine” emphasizes being the best parent you can possibly be, while attempting to minimize inherited trauma. “What I can’t leave behind / I’ll have to carry on / But I can make your heart mine / I can hold you close and let you go,” Calvin sings as his honest vocals trade off with bass, drums and Rhodes organ in this stripped-bare song of empathy. A phantom guitar is implied through its beautiful, Chick Corea-eque melancholic vibe that crescendos with cinematic strings.

“It’s important to see things from a child’s perspective,” says Calvin. “I use empathy to help my children grow. Your wins will be my wins. Your losses are my losses. You’re worthy of that. We make mistakes and that’s okay. Be accepting of what you can’t control. Listening to the case they’re making will get you 90% there. If you did your job right, your kid will be able to walk away as a mostly unscathed adult.”

The acoustic “Hazel or Blue” is an ode to Calvin’s late grandmother and the family mythology that she passed along. Calvin’s finger-picked guitar dances with the pedal steel as DeFade’s ethereal flute flitters and fades in and out of existence. “The kids in our family either had hazel or blue eyes,” says Calvin, “and the story went you had to worry about the kids with blue eyes.” It’s a song about not making the same mistakes as your parents, or passing them on to your own children.

The pedal steel-centric and geologic “Austin Chalk” ruminates on our oldest human mythology, the flood, while feeling just as timeless. The Austin Chalk is a massive and ancient outcropping of limestone that travels, like Calvin’s troubadourian guitar strums, from Dallas, to Austin, to San Antonio. The bed of underground rock would cause flooding from the Trinity River in certain areas of South Dallas, which have always been separated by racial and economic lines. Lush green spaces intermingled with poverty. The song lives in a mellow Khruangbin-esque drizzle before exploding like a thunderclap on the chorus, all while evoking wet ground previously tread in Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Texas Flood.”

“I was sitting on my patio playing that rolling intro on my J-50 when it started to rain,” says Calvin. “I’d play louder to keep up with the noise of the storm, then quiet down when there was a lull. Then out of nowhere, someone yelled, ‘Hey, we got a flood on our hands!’ I started thinking about the 4.5 billion year-old Earth versus the 200,000 years us humans have had. Our short time on this planet was a big orienting principle. We’re only here for the blink of an eye.”

Similarly, the wondrous post-grunge song “Gravity” takes on the weight of the world and the crushing inescapability of time. “All the heroes are ground to dust / Just to pave the street / As we waltz along endlessly / To a tune we call time,” he sings.

The plaintive "Saint Innocent" is about coping with the loss of his wife’s best friend. The title is taken from a pinot noir they’d all drink together, while winking at its religious implications. It ruminates on dealing with loss in unhealthy ways. Calvin’s grief can be felt through his primal vocals and impassioned guitar work. Pete Freeman’s furious pedal steel wails and Kelsey Jumper’s sorrowful backing vocals carry the emotional resonance of Joe Cocker’s “With A Little Help From My Friends.”

“Ellen and my wife were peas in a pod,” says Calvin. “We thought we’d spend our lives with her. She’d do firework shows professionally around Michigan. She loved it. She’d have a beer and just watch the fireworks. She was one of those people who just wanted to bring you something lovely and unexpected. Her love and dedication to fireworks was great. I sing, ‘paint those starry skies for me,’ and every time I see fireworks I still think about her.”

The gentle and touching “She Might Be a Song" is also about Ellen, and her succumbing to cancer. Calvin’s lyrical imagery and metaphors of cells dividing, ultraviolet light and “a summer dress of lead” is heartbreaking. Its threadbare intimacy is an alchemical portal into Calvin’s soul, like he’s whispering psychedelic secret truths to each of us listeners individually. It's incredibly personal yet we all have to deal with the universality of death. It’s tragic and touching, all while feeling like we’re absorbing ancient wisdom in his anguish.

The washed out and trippy "High is My Favorite Height" comes from an off-handed quip from Calvin’s son when he was five years old and staring out of a car window at Texas overpasses shooting into the sky. It’s about seeing things from unique perspectives and opening your mind to the world around you. It calls to the listener to embrace childlike innocence and wonder through its mind-bending space echo. “It took the purple one to rein me in / And the green to settle down again,” Calvin sings, reminiscent of the Hunter S. Thompson Fear and Loathing quote “[we had] a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, laughers, screamers…”

Calvin attended the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, and his song “Our Souls Have Broken Chains” is about Heather Heyer who was fatally injured during the white supremist Unite the Right rally there. It’s a song of frustration at injustice that rolls in like a thunderstorm. The musical tension echoes the fear we all feel from the people who deem us different from them, enemies — people who might kill us because of that feeling. The pandemic years brought these feelings to the forefront through unnecessary violent deaths. George Floyd. Trayvon Martin. Freddie Gray. The song explodes in swirling strings and a near-screaming outro. Calvin's demand for respect and kindness is like screaming into the void — into a wind that refuses to carry his words to those who need to hear them most.

“I thought that we could come together as a country and hold people accountable,” says Calvin, “that we could change the system. A woman doing the right thing. She's just protesting. We all should have a right to protest, and she gets run down by an idiot in a Charger. It just broke my heart. We need to stop that primal instinct to think of another person as ‘other,’ to the point that you’d kill them. As a people, we need to find ways to defuse that powder keg.”

“Ode to Denis Johnson” is a love letter to the author, perhaps most known for the short story collection Jesus’ Son. Like the author, this song is fun and harrowing, particularly with it’s opening line of “Kill yourself / In the company of strangers.” It’s California gothic meets Velvet Underground New York skeeze.

“He’s this Raymond Carver type character,” says Calvin. “I was raised Catholic, and his views on Catholicism resonated. The church is for people who’ve made mistakes and are trying to deal with them. People who aren’t visible to the rest of society. Whose trials and tribulations are close to the ideals of Catholicism. The meek inheriting the earth. The Beatitudes, Sermon on the Mount is much more in line with the type of people that Jesus hung out with. It’s about being kind and understanding to the people among us who are struggling most. Denis Johnson got that and turned it into awesome books. There's also an undercurrent of self sacrifice in Dennis Johnson that’s less healthy. There’s a religious theory that says Jesus was God so he could’ve saved himself. It’s a perspective that can’t be gained by living a simple life.”

The fingerstyle guitar, bossa nova percussion, and loungy organ of “Sturgeon Moon” brings a carefree spirit to this song that embraces the freedom of New York City living. His poetic lyrics take nothing for granted while embracing a beautiful day, moving through trains, or sitting at a cafe sipping on coffee and wine. The ‘60s chunky-pop, Phil Spector wall of sound “Garden State Variety” swirls and swoons as a poignant and soulful love-at-first-sight song.

Album closer “Shenandoah” is a traditional folk song that Calvin performs with sludgy, overdriven guitars and a four-on-the-floor dirge of percussion. Imagine Springsteen, Pete Seegar and Pearl Jam on a camping trip, singing this around a fire with amps up to eleven. This is an album that’s captured a specific time and place in America, and “Shenandoah” is the perfect sendoff in the vein of Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.”

Calvin’s story begins two generations ago with his finger-picking grandfather’s Gibson J-50 named Jumbo. He passed away when Calvin was eight years old and it sat unplayed in an attic. Years later, his step-grandmother found out he was playing guitar and bequeathed Jumbo to him. Jumbo and Calvin forged a relationship that has culminated in this new album.

“Jumbo isn’t set up right,” says Calvin, “but I love its sound. I always kept this guitar near me, and it always got played. It has this Neil Young mid-range, and I learned as many of his songs as I could. I was writing songs on this guitar my whole life, but it wasn’t until I got laid off in 2008 that I got serious about it.”

Calvin grew up a military brat, and continues a nomadic lifestyle where the only constant of home is his heirloom guitar Jumbo. Born at Fort Benning, Georgia, Calvin moved nearly every two years of his childhood: up and down the East Coast, to South Korea, to Germany, to living near the Pentagon for high school. He attended UVA in Charlottesville. From there he spent four Burning-Man-attending years in San Francisco and Oakland before settling down in New York City where he met his wife and started his family. Work moved him and his family to Dallas where he put out his debut album Masquerade Monday (2018), and wrote the lion’s share of Greener Fields & Fairer Seas. Now Calvin’s started a new South Florida life with his family in Boca Raton.

Very much a New York City album, the songs that made up Masquerade Monday dealt with frustration and loss — the emotional transition of losing his job and the stability that provided, and the loss of a long-term relationship before he met his wife. This primal scream of an album is epitomized in the vivid imagery of songs like “Beautiful & Wasted,” about cautiously watching the cocaine decline of a friend during his more wild NYC days, and the dark, Nick Cave-esque, finger-picked “Run,” which feels like a nightmare where you’re being chased by a faceless entity — where you know that there’s respite ahead, as long as you don’t stop moving.

“I felt like everything was falling apart at that time in my life,” says Calvin. “I was walking with a limp. It had taken a physical toll. I had a friend in Pittsburgh who offered to record the album for me, and that was the first time I worked with Nate Campisi. He heard things in my songs and brought in additional musicians to build this really full sound. It was that experience that inspired me to musically keep going.”

Working with Campisi inspired new songs in Calvin. He loved the recording process and wanted to work with the same people for the next album. Where Masquerade Monday had a loose, hangout feel with yawning tempos, Calvin wanted to do it again with more precision. For years, he’d grab his J-50 and fly from Miami to Pittsburgh every couple of months.

“To carry-on my guitar,” says Calvin, “I had to practically become a paralegal to wrestle with the gate agent every time. I’d stay walking distance to the studio. We did two weeks with drummer Pat Coyle to lock in the base elements. Every subsequent trip was to refine and record the other musicians. I did that for three years. I believe in allowing a song to be organic. To breathe. To allow the song to be human. Embracing flaws as features.”

The time spent to craft this record was well worth it. This is an audiophile’s album. Calvin and Campisi emphasize instruments in specific moments, building complexity and depth in its production and arrangements. It’s an engaging listening experience reminiscent of Tom Waits’ Mule Variations or Leonard Cohen’s early work. Where Masquerade Monday was about loss, Greener Fields & Fairer Seas is about better times now and in the future.

TRACK LIST:

Rest of My Roads

I Can Make Your Heart Mine

Austin Chalk

Gravity

Saint Innocent

She Might Be a Song

Sturgeon Moon

Garden State Variety

High is My Favorite Height

Hazel or Blue

Our Souls Have Broken Chains

Ode to Denis Johnson

Shenandoah

"SAINT INNOCENT" SONG CREDITS:

John Calvin: vocals, acoustic guitar

Pete Freeman: pedal steel

Pat Coyle: drums, percussion

Greg DeCarolis: bass, Hammond organ

Kelsey Jumper: backing vocals

ALBUM CREDITS:

All songs written by John Calvin except “Shenandoah”

Produced by Nate Campisi

John Calvin: acoustic guitar, vocals

Greg DeCarolis: guitar, bass, piano, Hammond organ, Rhodes, glockenspiel

Pat Coyle: drums, percussion, backing vocals

Kelsey Jumper: backing vocals

Eric DeFade: sax, flute, brass arrangements

Robert Matchett: trombone

Joe Herndon: trumpet

James Hart: pedal steel

Pete Freeman: pedal steel

David Bernabo: brass and string arrangements, Rhodes

Nadine Sherman: cello

Sandro Leal-Santiesteban: violin

Ashley Freeburn: violin

Jason Hohn: viola

Ricardo Cortés: art & art direction

John Fusco: photography

Recorded and mixed by Nate Campisi at Mr Smalls Recording Studio, Pittsburgh, PA

Mastered by Reuben Cohen at Lurssen Mastering, Burbank, CA