#i fear this may be slightly mid but whatever

[z0mbatz]

infamous doomed yaoi pose has claimed two new victims…

[starrdream]

Years

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader summary: Anakin sees you for the first time after a decade includes: SMUT, oral(f receiving), slight praise

Months turned into years-ones that seemed to last longer than they should, ones that stretched beyond time. He hadn't forgotten. No. He couldn't and he simply never will. That was something he made peace with long before it was over.

How could he? How does one forget something so pure, innocent and beautiful? How could he erase the happiest memories that could never be remade?

Every detail was crystal clear in his mind. Partially because he kept replaying various situations in his head every night, partially because he couldn't forget.

And even if he could, why would he? Why would he forget those eyes full of life? The laughter? The things he felt? No, he definitely didn't want to forget that.

Anakin Skywalker's life had been haunted by the past for the last 11 years. 11 years of melancholy, 11 years of longing, yearning...

So seeing you again was like a punch to the gut.

The small and rebellious Senator's daughter was no more. She was long gone, together with Anakin's memories. Instead she was replaced by something even more beautiful and dear.

You were the same age as him, yet so much more mature, more serious than him. He didn't want to acknowledge your beauty in fear of betraying what the Jedi had been teaching him for the last decade.

He never would've thought you'd be back but there you were, walking into the Jedi Temple with your father and a few guards on each side of you.

He was breathless, standing on one of the balconies as Snips talked his ear off.

"Ooo, who's that? She's pretty." She interrupts herself mid sentence, leaning against the railing and looks down at you.

"Yeah-I...I don't know." Anakin fumbled. "Let's go back to training."

"Whatever, you're so annoying." She rolls her eyes.

The next few hours are a blur-he was preoccupied but constantly thinking of you. His mind was a mess and he ended his lightsaber technique session with Ahsoka early.

The poor boy sat down in one of the many benches that filled the halls and leaned his head back against the cool tile walls. He takes a deep breath and relaxes further as the sun illuminates his face.

Seconds later, his peace is interrupted by a door opening and slamming shut. He cracks his eyes open, wincing slightly as they adjust to the sun.

His breath catches and he sits up straight because you come out the seemingly occupied room. His eyes widen in awe but you don't seem to notice him, not at first.

Just a few seconds later your eyes meet and he stands up before he could even think.

"Ani?" You whisper-shouted. "My goodness!" You smiled.

"Y/n.." He mumbled, smiling softly himself. "I missed you..."

The minute he's close to you, you hug him tight, burying your head in his shoulder as you practically knock the air out of his lungs.

"My, my..." He chuckles, hugging you back with a little less intensity, afraid he'll hurt you. "What're you here for?" He pulls away, keeping his shaky hands on your upper arms.

"My dad was called for some negotiations and decided to bring me along. Perfect opportunity to look at houses." You shrugged.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Sorry, houses?"

"We're probably gonna move back." You shrug happily.

His mouth drops open before he smiles so brightly and happily. "You're joking." Anakin shook his head. This was the moment he didn't even want to imagine in fear of waking up disappointed because it's not real.

"I'm serious!" You nudge him playfully. "I have to go now, but feel free to come by the guest rooms tonight if you wanna catch up."

And just like that you were pulling away like you did all those years ago, hurriedly walking off to wherever you were going.

"May the force be with you!" He called out to you.

"May the force be with you too!"

Anakin stood there stunned for a good minute before deciding to go back to his room and finish what he had left to do, all while grinning to himself like an idiot.

Each minute that passed until he could see you again felt like a minute closer to his prayers being answered. And in some ways, they were.

Because 4 hours after first seeing you, Anakin was kissing his way down your body. His hands grope your tits as he trails further south, kissing under your chest, your stomach, your hip and finally latching his mouth onto your center.

His hands find their way to your hips to keep you in place.

Slowly, he licks all the way up, nose is rubbing against your clit. Your hands immediately reach for his hair, gently wrapping your fingers around the soft curls.

"Anakin-" You breathe out, back arching. He gently lifts your thighs and carefully places them over his strong shoulders.

"Mmm..." He hums against you "You're doing so good baby..." He mumbles, the sound muffled.

Your hands tighten, pulling his hair in desperation for more.

"My favorite Senator.." He teased, chuckling against you and making you squirm.

"Ani.." You whined, pulling his head closer despite your protest seconds prior.

His hands are doing a great job at stimulating you further-rubbing your thighs and stomach. Gently, almost innocently, Anakin's thumb makes it's way to your clit-rubbing slow, yet firm circles in time with his tongue.

You squirm above him, walls clenching around his tongue. "A-ani..gonna cum.." You rasp out.

"Mhm.." He encouragess, tone pleased and pace not faltering for a second.

A moment later, your inner thighs are squeezing his head as you whimper repeatedly and desperately, coming undone on his tongue.

Anakin takes his sweet time in prolonging your pleasure, lazily suckling and kissing on you without a care in the world. And when he does pull away, he wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. Then, he throws himself on top of you and kisses you sensless before falling asleep cuddled up on your chest

A/N: May the fourth be with everyone reading this!!! I’ve decided to take a break until June first because i REALLY need to lock in and study I have a bazillion tests coming up😭😭. I’ll try my best to make time and post at least a few works but no promises.

As for when I do get back, I have a new series coming up..👀

[byhees]

surprising them during long-distance

heeseung would be surprised beyond words; would drop whatever he’s doing, hands frozen mid-air. wouldn’t dare to waste another living, breathing second, in fear that he may be dreaming— “i missed you so, so much”, he’d mumble, arms wrapped tightly around your figure, as though apprehensive to let you go…

jay would immediately rush over to pick you up in his arms, his hands holding you steady as he gently spins you around in his grasp; “please tell me i’m not imagining you in front of me”, he’d mumble, voice lightly muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the faint scent of your shampoo, mixed with the warmth radiating off your body— all signs that tell him, he’s definitely not just imagining things…

jake would be absolutely gobsmacked to see you, his pretty girl, perched right by the edge of his bed, that smile decorating your features knocking the wind out of his body; doesn’t hesitate to engulf you in a tight hug, his arms wrapping around your form, his chin resting atop your head— “you don’t know just how much i’ve missed this, baby”…

sunghoon would pause mid-stride, his pretty eyes slowly widening into large saucers, his plump lips parted ever so slowly; “yn..?” he’d mumble, and when you’d laugh ever so softly at his reaction, he wouldn’t waste another moment, crashing into your embrace, his face buried into the hem of your shirt— “ please don’t let go”, he’d murmur, arms tightly nestled around your waist…

sunoo would be shocked beyond belief, his mouth immediately being rendered agape at the sight; “oh my.. baby, you’re here? when? how?”— would bombard you with a million questions, all the while basking in your presence, an arm naturally snaking around your form. he’d have this cheery grin glued over his features…

jungwon wouldn’t believe his eyes; perhaps he’d missed you so much, he’s started to materialise his thoughts of you into reality? but when you’d run up to him, body almost melting into his warmth, your arms finding recluse around his build, all the confusion and flabbergast would dissipate into nothing, a wide-toothed smile decorating his pretty face. “you should’ve told me you were coming; i look like a mess”, he’d mumble, tone soft— if only he knew how endearing he looked, hair lightly tousled, face slightly puffy from a rough night of sleep…

riki would stand by the doorway, completely unaware of how to react; he’d be hit with a wave of emotions— puzzlement, disbelief, and last but not least, euphoria. would be, practically, attached to you by the hip, his body never tearing away from your own, his hands never not fiddling with your own; “no, please, keep going— tell me everything, every good, or bad, moment; just.. keep talking”, he’d mumble, finding your voice so much more relaxing in person…

[ozzgin]

Ok, could I just say I LOVE how you write for your Baki characters, they're always a treat 🥺✨️

May I request another prehistoric reader, but when they revived her along with Pickle, she just looked so roughed up that she looks like the definition of surviving

What could cause such scars? Well they wouldn't have to wait long since turns out she's like really clumsy, like "nearly losing an eye by tripping on air and onto a metal pole" clumsy

Pickle just has to be by her side every time to catch her before she actually lose something

I love the idea! I can definitely picture it, thank you for the suggestion and the kind words!

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Clumsy Reader

Featuring Pickle and his challengers and one tough looking reader that turns out to be just extremely clumsy.

The men scan your features with a cautious defensiveness. Here you are, standing tall next to Pickle, with a similarly toned body yet peppered with scars and old wounds. Assuming you have the same survival skills as Pickle, what could you have possibly fought to leave you with such extensive damage? The air is tense as they analyze the possibilities. A T.Rex? It was your main source of food. Multiple of them? Entire packs of ancient elite predators? Were you the main hunter of the pack, taking on challenges that left the other humans scurrying away in fear?

It doesn’t take too long for the mystery to solve itself. The first one to pick up on it is Baki, who just happened to be visiting the enclosure. You’re in the middle of a playful scuffle with Pickle when you decide to impress the newcomer with your signature move. You extend one arm and twist your body slightly, as if gaining traction. Pickle can immediately tell what is about to happen and growls at you, but it’s too late. You swing, and the fist lands in your own face. Baki gasps in shock and you blink a few times in order to process the succession of events. Good Lord, you’re just clumsy. Terribly so.

Now, they have to admit, being this dangerous to yourself and making it this far is rather impressive. Whether in a good or a bad way is another story. The major force of reason in your life seems to be Pickle. Whenever possible, he’s there to stop your ungainly displays. He’s lifted you from the ground more times than he could ever care to count. Truth be told, he does enjoy the fact that you’re this dependent on him. Outside of your clumsiness you’re quite capable and he likes to have one area where he can prove himself as a partner to you.

It’s almost like you and Pickle crawled out of a slapstick comedy. The men are nearly temped to fabricate their own scenarios to check whether you come out unscathed. They’d rather not upset Pickle more than necessary, however. And witnessing your lack of coordination first-hand has also awakened a similar worry towards your safety.

Before they know it, they’re stopping mid-conversation to check on whatever shenanigans you’re up to, ready to interfere. Retsu will silently interrupt your failure and pretend nothing has ever happened, sparing your embarrassment. So does Katsumi, after having a good laugh about it. He finds you extremely entertaining and always compliments your gift of getting into trouble.

Jack doesn’t like to make his empathy known. He’ll ‘accidentally’ step in front of you moments before you’re about to crash into a wall. He just so happens to hold the edge of the barrier right before your head collides with it. Move along, there’s nothing to see.

With Baki there's always a 50% chance he'll fail miserably together with you instead. He's about to stop you from tripping and in doing so his chin hits the pavement at the same time as you. Thankfully Pickle has two hands.

Even Yuujirou is forced to comply with the unspoken rule. He’s been told repeatedly of the importance you and Pickle hold from a cultural and scientifically perspective and he doesn’t disagree with it. Depending on his mood he will laugh at your misfortune or arrogantly scold you, but either way he will prevent your injury. He’s also secretly impressed by your durability.

[hyper-fixated-delusions]

It’s like you’re my mirror.

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Mi amor.” My love.

“Mami.” Mommy.

Word count: 1,002.

Masterlist.

Wanda had just gotten home from grocery shopping when she noticed her house was quiet. A little too quiet, considering Billy and Tommy were out from kindergarten early today.

But as she began to move about the kitchen putting away the groceries she thought nothing of it, thinking that maybe her wife and sons were upstairs in their room, watching a movie like they did every Tuesday on their early dismissal day.

As Wanda finished putting the last of groceries away and still not a peep was heard throughout the house she began heading upstairs to search the rooms.

Her first stop was Billy and Tommy’s room, thinking maybe the twins got bored of watching the film mid way like they always did and decided to come play with their toys instead, but as she checked the room it was completely spotless and empty. Letting her know they were probably still with you, so she made her way to your shared bedroom.

Wanda knocks softly on the door, pushing it open slowly and peeking her head in as to not disturb you and the boys from whatever she expected to see you watching, but the sight that greets her instead has her completely enamored.

There in front of her very own eyes were a sleeping Y/N, Billy and Tommy. Feeling her heart swell with happiness at the way her sons and wife were sleeping.

The three of them were laying on their left side, lips pouty, faces serene; not an ounce of worry on their features. Each hugging a pillow in the same way, as the trio also had a leg slightly bent.

Wanda quickly makes her way downstairs to retrieve her phone so she can snap a quick few photos to show you once you wake up to help diminish the fears that have been pestering you these past few weeks.

Fears over the possibility that your sons may never display some of your traits. Fears that your boys will never fully accept you because you are not their biological mother.

Smiling as she looks at the pictures, Wanda feels her heart swell at the prospect of easing your worries and decides to let you and the boys continue on napping while she gets started on a late lunch.

Humming to herself as she moves around the kitchen making a quick light meal, she squeals in surprise when she feels arms suddenly wrap around her waist from behind.

"Y/N!" Wanda exclaims, heart beating wildly in her chest, "you scared the hell out of me," she laughs, turning in your arms, taking in the sight of your disheveled hair and slightly sleepy eyes.

"I'm sorry mi amor, I tried calling you, but you were in your own world," you smile tenderly, your eyes closing as Wanda runs a hand through your hair to tame it.

"Did you nap okay?" The redhead asks softly.

"Mm-hmm," you hum contentedly, Wanda's ministrations causing you comfort, "but I missed you," you pout slightly, "sleeping without you is never fun, but I had great company so I can’t complain,” you wink. “The boys had an exciting day today. According to them, their school put on a little decathlon of sorts all the physical activity must have tired them out," you laugh softly, "both fell asleep during the first 5 minutes of the movie and seeing them sleep made me sleepy so I decided to nap as well, sorry I wasn't awake to help you put the groceries away," you apologize and Wanda shakes her head pressing light kisses to your lips.

"No need to worry my love, I know how stressful these past few weeks have been, I'm just glad you got some rest," your wife says, hands caressing your face softly and smile widening as she remembers the pictures she took while you were asleep, "also I want to show you something exciting that happened while you were sleeping," Wanda says, eyes shining bright with happiness.

"Aww man, what'd I miss?" You say with a small frown at the prospect of missing out on something cool.

Wanda laughs at your expression, "you're going to love this, trust me," she says as she begins to pull the pictures up, handing you her phone so you can see what she is so excited about, "here," the redhead says, biting her lip in anticipation.

As you hold the cellular device in your hand and inspect the image of you and the twins mirroring each other while asleep, you can't help but let out a watery laugh, "oh my god babe," you whisper softly, "my boys, Max, they're really my boys," you chuckle, as you look at Wanda, tears pouring out of your eyes in happiness.

The redhead approaches you, hands cradling your face tenderly, "they are baby, they are your boys, and they love you so so much, it's clear to see. I mean they mirror you for crying out loud," Wanda laughs tearily, feeling her own emotions well up at the fact that you are so happy at this realization. "I have never doubted that they were yours my love, you may not have had them and biology be damned, but they are your sons, what more proof do we need baby?" Your wife says and you smile happily.

"I love you so much, Max. Thank you, thank you so much for giving me this beautiful gift. Mi amor, words will never be able to explain what this means to me," you smile tearfully, kissing Wanda softly.

As both you and your wife get lost in each other for a moment, a pair of voices interrupt your loving make out session, “mami!” Both you and Wanda hear exclaimed, making you pull apart with a small laugh.

“Your boys beckon you, my love,” your wife says with a beaming smile.

“My boys,” you say happily, placing a quick kiss to Wanda’s lips before you make your way to the stairs with a huge grin on your face.

[damiensbedtimestoriesau]

Court of Owls #3

Lucky enough, the others returned safely on their own at dawn.

The comms never came back online, but whatever they’d gone through was enough to nearly kill them.

The silence wasn’t peaceful, it was haunting.

Using footage from both trips into the cave, they slowly identified each statue. Uriah was the first, clearest by far, caught on camera when Damian broke his spear and used it as a bow staff.

To the right of Uriah’s statue: a man with four throwing knives, one in each hand.

The next: a woman, taller, with what the blurry footage made out as a flail.

Then came a much taller statue: thin, angular with a longbow slung over his back.

To his right stood a broader man, bulkier, with a Nathan Starr short sword at his side.

Each statue looked slightly newer than the last.

Then they saw it.

The final one.

The statue of a man holding two Francisca hatchets, unfinished. The details on the owl mask weren’t carved yet. Part of the legs were still just a block of stone, untouched.

It looked like someone had rushed out of there mid-sculpt, like something ancient had come back, and the artist ran before finishing the newest Talon.

It took hours, digging through old murder files and assassination reports, but Bruce and Constantine eventually pieced it together.

Bruce gathered the family.

“What you fought tonight was the first Talon,” Bruce said, eyes dark.

“Uriah Boone. Active during the early 1600s, possibly as far back as the 1580s.

A colonel of the Crown, stationed during Gotham’s first settlement.

Known confirmed kills: dozens.

Estimated kills: possibly thousands.”

He pulled up files, flipping through grainy scans, aged sketches, and court records.

“The other statues match other suspected Talons.

Ephraim Newhouse: 1660s. A street rat who somehow got rich. Made his kills with throwing knives. Quick. Clean. Deadly.

Patience Gordon: 1710s. Survived the witch trials. Saved from a hanging. Became infamous for brutal public executions in an owl mask. Her kills were slow. Vicious. There’s a real chance the witch rumors had truth to them.

Silas Haywood: 1770s. Butcher turned sharpshooter during the Revolution. Long-range specialist. He could pick off targets from rooftops or miles out in the woods with bows and firearms alike.

Henry Ballard: 1810s. Short sword user. Quiet. Mysterious. All we know is the trail of bodies and the money he left behind.

And finally... Alexander Staunton: 1850s. Dual Francisca hatchets. Last confirmed Talon to operate before the Court disappeared. Only one ever caught by the GCPD. Executed. But his body vanished from the morgue. Same week the Gotham Quake hit.

Something we now suspect may have been Swamp Thing related.”

Bruce sighed.

“We have no idea if the others will return too… Jason nearly died saving Damian from just one.”

His voice dipped lower.

“Gods forbid they all awake.”

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful.

It was the kind that pressed in from every side.

The kind that screamed without sound.

It had become the norm lately… these long stretches of quiet between them.

A silence filled with unsaid fears, with doubt, with questions no one wanted to be the first to ask.

Among a family of tacticians, each capable of going toe-to-toe with metahumans and gods…

That kind of silence was more terrifying than any Talon.

Dick finally broke it.

Voice even. Face hard. But eyes… eyes exhausted.

“What’s the plan, Bruce?”

“Do we have any ideas?”

And the silence returned once more.

“Not yet,” Constantine said, his voice quieter than they’d ever heard it.

No sarcasm. No bite.

Even a man like him, snide and cynical to the core, could feel the weight in the room.

He didn’t dare mock it.

Not this fear.

Not this family.

Damian piped up.

“Father… I want to make it clear, I’m not falling back into old ways. That’s not what this is.”

All eyes turned toward him.

“But the Demon’s Head, the League of Assassins, they might give us a fighting chance. If we can convince them... even temporarily. An alliance.”

There was a pause. Heavy. Tense.

Bruce didn’t look up.

“No.”

Just one word. Flat. Final.

He didn’t explain. Didn’t argue.

He didn’t need to.

He was overwhelmed, and when that happened, Bruce Wayne didn’t process. He shut down.

He took the feeling. Buried it. And walked through it his own way. His own way he considered the right way. It’s as if he didn’t repeatedly learn that was wrong over the last 30 years.

It was tense.

Damian was benched that night, left behind to watch over his injured brother, Jason.

That’s when they had their talk.

“Damian… my man,” Jason slurred, the formerly-dead Robin riding the edge of painkillers and cheap whiskey.

“You saved me last night. I see a lot of myself in you, little bro… but yeah. But…”

He took a breath, and didn’t quite look him in the eye.

“You almost killed that guy. And look… I’ve killed a lot of guys. Even the worst ones, child abusers, scumbag traffickers, all that. Doesn’t matter. It still eats at you.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

“You can’t be doing that, little bro. I’m not telling good ol’ Daddio Bruce, don’t worry… but that League of Ass—asshatins—whatever. You’re not going the Grandpappy route, right?”

Damian shook his head.

“No, Jason. I’m not. Truth is…I despise him. But his resources, his network… that kind of alliance might save the city. If Father would give it a chance.”

He paused. Looked him in the eye.

“Love you, bro. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in here sharpening my katanas, just in case. You can trust me.”

Jason blinked, almost surprised. Then let his head fall back onto the pillow.

“I… I love you too,” he muttered, barely audible.

As much as Bruce hated having more people on the street than himself, he knew he was in no state to patrol.

The Bat-Family was stretched thin, every member scattered across the city.

No comms. No coordination.

Just blind hope they’d all return to the cave by morning.

And Bruce hated that.

That night, Tim took Crime Alley.

And he was the first to meet Uriah Boone again.

Tim didn’t hesitate.

He charged, bow staff in hand.

Two clean hits, one to each wrist.

The Talon took them without flinching, raising his arms to shield his face.

Then, with one fluid motion, he grabbed the staff!

Twisting it from Tim’s hands like it was nothing.

Behind the cracked, ancient mask…

Tim could feel the Talon smiling.

Even if he couldn’t see it.

He could feel it.

Tim backed off fast, instincts flaring.

Something in his gut screamed, not human. Not anymore.

And then he saw it.

The sai.

Still lodged where collarbone met neck… Damian’s.

Buried in ancient flesh.

The Talon noticed his hesitation.

And struck.

The stolen bow staff cracked across Tim’s leg!-

The sound was sickening.

Bone. Shattered.

Tim hit the ground, gasping, stunned,

But alive.

He left him alive.

That, more than the pain, was what terrified Tim the most.

Uriah stepped forward, calm as ever, and dropped something onto Tim’s chest.

A folded letter.

Heavy parchment.

Sealed with deep red wax, marked with an owl sigil.

It was addressed in careful, old-fashioned handwriting:

“To the Wayne Family.”

And then Uriah was gone.

They knew.

The real question was, what does this mean?

[innuendostudios]

by a wide margin the weirdest video essay I've ever release: List of Songs that Represent "Smart Music" Ranked from Most to Least Appropriate to Put in a Video Essay

this video is sponsored by Nebula, where you can watch ad-free and (sometimes, slightly) better edited versions of my videos for 40% off an annual subscription. just follow this link.

as a quick note: YouTube has already demonetized this video, as two different corporations are claiming copyright on recordings they do not own the copyright to - both are Creative Commons recordings of public domain music, that, in one case, YouTube has misidentified as a different recording, and, in the other, YouTube has the music in its database as under copyright despite it being having been released under CC BY-SA 3.0. I am disputing these false claims and will (hopefully) get whatever money I am owed, but, for now, YouTube is not paying me a dime for this.

so it would be a bigger help than usual if you would either watch the video on Nebula or back me on Patreon.

thanks. transcript below the cut!

List of Songs That Represent “Smart Music” Ranked From Most To Least Appropriate To Put In A Video Essay (And Presented In Drill Bit Order).

1. Clair de Lune, Debussy

This has been top dog ever since the teaser for Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and cemented its position against challengers with a showcase in Everything Everywhere All at Once. Said film could have been the shark-jumping moment where the song was irretrievably lost to irony, given directors Kwan and Scheinert (Daniels)’s style mercilessly marries the aesthetics of prestige and shitpost. Yes, despite its silliness, EEAAO is achingly sincere, but could the general public be trusted to recognize that? But then it won Best Picture, so apparently yes! Beautiful, delicate, to score a film or video with Clair de Lune signals a desire to be seen not only as an intellectual, but as an aesthete. The song could lose potency if the Clair de Lune sequence were parodied enough, but how does one parody EEAAO???

9. Gymnopedie No. 1, Satie

I fear we must, as a society, and as a community of video essayists, move on from Gymnopedie No. 1. It held the title longer than, I think, any champion previous, and for that it deserves merit. But its time is over. It is, like the phrase “mad dated,” mad dated. It is saying “lmao” out loud. Did you know the original screenplay for 2005 film The Island specifically stated that, in the weird culty enclave in which the film opens, Gymnopedie No. 1 must be playing over the loudspeaker? I don’t think Michael Bay followed that directive (I’m not rewatching the movie to find out), but that is how long this was the “Smart Music” song - since 5 months after YouTube launched. If you must - absolutely must - put Satie in a video essay, use Gnossienne No. 1, though it too is on its way to passe. At this point I’m prepared to say Vexations or GTFO.

2. Ave Maria, Schubert/Liszt

Nothing was certain after Satie vacated the throne, and for a while it seemed we might have a Starks vs. Baratheons situation between Schubert and Debussy. Following several appearances in pretentious YouTube videos, the Ave Maria made its strongest showing yet by scoring the opening scene of the grimdarkest Batman film so far, an entire twenty days before getting fully Lannister’d by Everything Everywhere All at Once. Unbowed, unbent, and unbroken, still she nips at the heels of the king, and may yet take his place. No one else poses a comparable threat. Hers is a curious strategy, being a religious, Christmas, and even classic Disney standard now repurposed as “Smart Music;” she gets a big boost every December, but can she take the top spot before this cyclical exposure nudges her back into a prior niche?

8. Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven

If you were in a film program in the mid-2000s, you are sick to death of Moonlight Sonata. Also if you were in a music class where you were asked to determine a song’s time signature by ear - how am I supposed to tell the difference between waltz time and 4/4 with all triplets without the sheet music in front of me? To say scoring a video with Moonlight Sonata is a hack move - you’d have to be a hack to not already know! This was the soundtrack to the blind cave salamander level of Earthworm Jim 2, there’s no coming back from that! I mean, the association with Tallarico Studios alone… It’s done. Roll over, Beethoven.

3. Cello Suite No. 1 (Prelude), Bach

This one is firmly-rooted. It is not going anywhere, both in the sense that nothing could soon push it off the list but it’s hard to imagine rising any higher. It is just slightly too beautiful, too expressive, too legato to fall into the stiffness of Habanera or the pomposity of a De Beers ad, but just close enough to them in tone to always read as a hipper alternative. So you’ll never be overexposed, but never go that long without hearing the Yo-Yo Ma version. And so here it stays, third on the podium, solid bronze, the waterbender, the Plup; with you as always is Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1. (Frankly surprised it took us this long to get to Johann, but don’t worry - he’ll be Bach.)

7. Air on the G String, Bach/Wilhelmj

Told ya. It’s not that she isn’t a beautiful piece of music, and it’s not that she already had her time. In truth, she never got her flowers. Inasmuch as she had a run, it was squished between the omnipresences of Beethoven and Satie. You’ll still hear from her now and then; she crops up, like a lucky penny. And you’ll smile, every time, but you know the stars in your eyes are not present joy, but nostalgia. A fondness for what was and what could’ve been - what should have been. Why - why couldn’t this have had the legs of Gymnopedie? I mean, even the Fucking Champs version - could that have made a run? Could TikTok pick up on it? But comes the day you have to accept - if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened by now. Air on the G String grows weary; let her rest.

4. Duo des Fleurs, Delibes

Bit of a dark horse, this one. Didn’t exactly come out of nowhere - it’s been here the whole time - but you didn’t see it coming! It’s like that time I went snorkeling, and I wondered, “Where are the fish?” I was told there would be tropical fish, but all I saw was blue. Then I caught one flitting by my head and, as soon my eyes registered the shape, I realized they were everywhere! I just hadn’t taken them in. This is the one that makes you ask, where did I hear that before? Was this the one at the end of Margaret? No! How did it go? How do I hum dyads? But then it shows up and, oh yeah, that’s the one! The really pretty one. I knew it’d come around again. Has staying power, could make a run for the top if it sees an opening, but seemingly content, for now, to dance around the periphery, appreciated when heard if only half-remembered the next day.

6. Prelude in E Minor Op. 28 No. 4, Chopin

The bottom end of acceptability. Anything lower, you must avoid. But you can use Prelude in E. It is a risk, and it takes skill. But you can use Prelude in E. It is not for the faint of heart. This is the ending of Fez we’re talking about here. This is that one TED Talk about how everyone loves classical music they just don’t know it yet. This was all over Anatomy of a Fall. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer something lighter? Nocturne in E-flat [Op. 9 No. 2] is very nice. Prelude has just enough penetration that some people are going to recognize it, and enough clout that those who do are going to expect things of the person who puts it in a video essay. You can’t just throw this under a rant about The Snyder Cut. But you can - with care, with effort, and with grace - use Prelude in E.

5. Spiegel im Spiegel, Part

We are not ready for Spiegel im Spiegel. The rare “Smart Music” that is, rather than classical, contemporary minimalist. This is - I have been led to believe - all over the film festival circuit. It is the go-to for aspiring arthouse directors. So I assume it is only a matter of time until it reaches general cultural awareness. But we - the YouTube video essay community - are not, at this point in time, pretentious enough to pull off Spiegel im Spiegel. This is not a statement on the song: it is a lovely, sparse, and unpretentious piece of music, which is why pretentious people are drawn to it. And we are not there yet. But I believe in us.

POSTSCRIPTUM

The List of Songs that Represent “Smart Music” is not ranked by quality; they are all, as a baseline, masterpieces. They are ordered, instead, by their possession of antipodal qualities. Beethoven’s Fifth may be a beautiful piece but it’s too well-known - to the casual listener, it reads only as “classical music.” Vltava is a beautiful piece, but it’s not recognizable enough - to most, it will read only as “music.” Pachelbel’s Canon works in too many contexts. Mozart’s Lacrimosa no longer works in any context but “Shit’s About To Go Off.” The Song that Represents “Smart Music” must balance these humors: suggestive, but not too specific; recognizable, but not overfamiliar. The kind of thing one imagines cultured people listen to, and fancies oneself cultured for having noticed it. Just popular enough to signify obscurity to a large number of people.

This impossibility of being both popular and obscure is what keeps the list in motion. Many songs drift back into obscurity before reaching the top, but, once in the primary position, a song begins its slow procession to overexposure. And when, at last, it is too popular to be niche, it does not slip to number 2; it plummets to the bottom, as did Icarus.

Due to this slow but constant movement, new songs will, at intervals, join the ranks, taking the place of those that became gauche. And if, dear listener, you were aiming to trendset, to score your next whatever-it-is-you-do with the newest Song to Represent “Smart Music,” and were I a gambling man… Bach’s Prelude in C. And I’ll tell you why: it appears in the Netflix series Bodies alongside Chopin (#6), mirroring Satie’s dual appearance in The Queen’s Gambit (#9); its arpeggiated structure makes it usable in scenarios similar to the Cello Suite (#3) (Johann did love him some broken chords); and it forms the basis of the Gounod version of Ave Maria, if you would like a Cool Person’s Alternative to Schubert (#2). You may feel I’m playing too safe, but I tell you truly: this song is due. But if I can impart one piece of wisdom let it be this: whatever you do, whoever you are, you cannot use Fur Elise. You cannot. You can’t do it. It can’t be allowed. Don’t fu-

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 2nd - Titfucking (Papa Emeritus III x Female!Reader)

Tags: Marathon Sex, Titfucking, Established Relationship, Praise, Body Worship, Overstimulation, Cum-Shot, Cum-Eating, 1st Person POV

I blink my eyes open, awakened by the feeling of Terzo pressing soft kisses across my neck and shoulders. I didn't even realize I drifted off in the first place. I must've passed out from exhaustion after that last orgasm. I grunt, feeling the soreness affecting my body already. I already know I'll be walking funny tomorrow, and my thighs and hips will most likely be littered with bruises. This horny bastard will be the death of me.

Terzo chuckles against my bare skin. "Welcome back, sleepyhead." He murmurs playfully. "You too tired to go another round, principessa?"

"You aren't?" I groan, surprised at the stamina this man has. We've been at this for three consecutive rounds already. I haven't even gotten out of bed today, and now I think I never will. I'm exhausted, achy, sweaty, and if I have one more orgasm I fear I'll have a heart attack. He, however, looks annoyingly perfect as always; Hovering over me, completely unaffected, ready for round four. How does he still have the energy to even get it up?

He laughs and continues to trail his kisses up to my jaw. I shiver slightly at the feeling, letting my eyes fall shut once again. They only open back up when I feel his half-hard cock pressing against my hip. "Baby, no..." I sigh, bringing a still shakey hand up to nudge him off. He complies and pulls away, pouting in false sympathy. I swear, if I wasn't still on the verge of passing out, I'd punch him in his stupid, gorgeous face.

"Awe, have you had enough, amore mio?" He teases, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. I roll my eyes.

"I had enough 3 rounds ago." I scoff dryly. I'm not actually as annoyed as I may be acting, truth be told I love when he overstimulates me, pushes me to my absolute limits. And goddamn, does he know that. "But seriously Terz, I'm way too sore. No more, please..." Terzo nods understandingly and kisses my sweat-dampened forehead. As much of a depraved pervert Terzo can be, I know he'd never want to push me too far to the point it's more pain than pleasure.

"Do you mind if I get myself off then?" He asked, stroking himself lazily as he gazes deeply into my eyes, searching them for any reluctance. "Just stay away from my bottom half and you're good." I snort. He smirks again, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Just the bottom half? So is the, eh... top half still open for business?" He leans in closer, dropping his voice lower and wiggling his brows suggestively in attempts to be seductive. This fucking guy.

"Why? You want to use my mouth, Papa?" I coo flirtatiously, trying to be sexy back, immediately followed by a very unsexy yawn. I'd be willing to do anything above the waist to get him off, so maybe he'd finally be sated and leave me alone. Though to be honest, I might fall asleep mid-blowjob. He shook his head, his gaze falling from my eyes to my tits, his eyes fogged with lust.

"Not this time, bella mia. I'd much prefer to use these beauties, if you don't mind." He purrs, groping my breasts tenderly and leaning down to press little kisses to my nipples. I bite my lower lip as I suck in a breath. He takes one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently and rolling his tongue around. I whimper at the feeling, my body relaxing as I let him do whatever he wants to me.

"May I, principessa?" He pops his mouth off my breast, looking up at me expectantly. I take a shaky breath and nod. Normally he would not accept that as an answer and keep teasing me till I used my words, but he sensed how tired I was and decided not to push it, too needy to get off.

He climbed back on top of me, straddling my body to where his cock was in perfect alignment with my breasts. He uses one hand to fondle them while the other strokes his now fully-erect cock, taking his time to soak up my appearance. He smiles down at me, showering me in praises I barely retain from my levels of exhaustion. I'm so relaxed I'm nearly half-asleep. That's exactly how Terzo wanted me right now; limp and pliant, but still conscious enough to see and feel what he's doing to me.

Eventually, he spat on his cock to lube it up, and placed his member in between my mounds. He squeezed my breasts around his slick-covered cock and began to thrust. He let out a primal grunt as he threw his head back and pounded madly. It's embarrassing how aroused I was at the sight of him fucking my tits as if it was my cunt. I let out an involuntary moan, which caused him to smile cockily.

"Y-you enjoying the show, principessa? You like watching me fuck these pretty tits? Merda, so f-fucking perfect!" He growls, his hips snapping faster as he humped me like a rabid animal. "S-such a perfect girl for me, letting me use your body however I please. Can't wait to paint these beautiful tits with my seed, f-fuck!" By the way he was panting and the way his hips stuttered, I knew he was getting close. I use my last remaining energy to encourage him to reach his climax.

"Terzo, please... please cover my tits, please cum for me, Papa!" I whine, causing him to let out a long, borderline scream-like moan as he finished, coating my breasts with his warm, thick spend. Finally, after four orgasms, he looks completely disheveled, hair falling in his face, eyes shut tight and mouth hanging agape as if he was about to fall asleep right on top of me.

Finally, sleepiness takes ahold of me. The last thing I remember is Terzo clumsily shuffling off of me to lick his cum from my breasts, my eyes fluttering shut in bliss as I drift off into a deep sleep.

-

[xcyphoz0a]

ACT I/ scene vi/ keep quiet, please.

writing included after the 5th photo! tw/ panic attack

previous / act list / next

you hide your phone under the desk, and turn your head to the teacher to listen to the lecture.

yet that familiar and squeamish feeling of your heart starting to run a marathon comes settling into your chest, urging you to leave.

why, why, why?

during school? couldn’t it wait?

stumbling out of class, it’s obvious how pale you are.

your heart beats, million beats per minute as you feel like you can’t take control of your own body anymore. your motor control doesn’t work, and you’re just thankful that you managed to slide down to a corner where barely anyone visits.

perhaps it was your fear, your sobs choked in silent plea as tears cover your vision.

you can’t help but want to run away, just for your inability to stand as footsteps start to become closer towards your direction.

they stop, and you can feel that they’re in front of you, looking at you with mild amusement as they try to contain their laughter.

barely managing to raise your head, you cannot help but feel both mortified and relieved at the same time to see not a laughing, but a concerned kunikuzushi, standing idle in front of your crouched form.

but your tears don’t stop as they seem to pour harder than ever, with your breaths becoming even more unstable, air not reaching your lungs as you feel as if you would suffocate.

kuni, eyes widening at your worsening situation, makes haste in crouching in front of you, hesitant to make contact as his hands stay mid air, unsure whether it would be alright for him to comfort you with his… colourful choices of words.

yet the way you look even more pained, his hands reach out to pull you in, rather awkwardly but to his best, before his thoughts manage to process what he did. your tears soak through his shirt on his shoulder, though he doesn’t care as he does his best to let you calm down. his hand comes to pat your back, attempting a comforting motion as he lets out a sigh in relief as he feels your state becoming more stable.

snapping back to his self, his face explodes into a warm shade of pink, as he waits for you to calm down. your arms loosen from his back as you rub out your tears, smiling lightly in gratitude. 

“...thank you.”

kuni nearly spits out a ‘whatever’, until he remembers how shaken up you still may be,

“are you okay?”

your eyes widen slightly at his surprisingly considerate response.

“mhm.”

once you leave, washing your face with cold water, you thank your deskmate again during the last class of the day.

“y’know, why did you decide to help me? i thought you’d laugh…aha–actually, never mind. thanks!”

“i’m not horribly mean.”

“well, i know now–i don’t mean it in a bad way i swear–” your hands flail around, attempting to explain yourself, although cut off by kuni.

“would you… never mind. forget i said anything.” he turns his head away from you, chin propped up on his hand.

you smile weakly, “penny for your thoughts? you shouldn’t let thoughts rot in your mind.”

he shakes his head, as the teacher leaves the classroom, ending the last lesson of the day.

previous / act list / next

taglist/ @lalalaloveallmydays @shyentsmissingink @raineyun @minstarrs @3lectraheart

[drizzleoftherain]

Liturgia

Chapter 8: Emotional Landscapes They Puzzle Me. The Riddle Gets Solved, and You Push Me to This State of Emergency

Pairing: Ava Silva & Beatrice

Ao3

Author's note: I will be making a reference back to this song and the scene it belongs to. I think if you want to understand the emotional aspect of their conversation then please look through the lyrics/reread the scene in chapter 3, the new scene will be endlessly richer this way.

There’s a playlist and a mood-board.

Saturday, May 3rd. New York City

“Don’t let go!” Ava shrieked as the wheels at the front of the skateboard bounced up sending her backwards.

Beatrice held her by both her hands, standing absolutely still, both feet planted firmly on the concrete floor below them. “I’m not going to let you go, I promise!” Ava’s hands were clammy from both the afternoon heat and fear of being on top of the board, but that was not going to keep Beatrice from keeping her word.

They began to shoot the rest of the video straight out of the airport. With both of them just having time for a quick change of clothing, something more practical for the weather in New York City. She had on a red linen stripe shirt that fell loosely on her torso and denim shorts. Ava wore the same colour Corduroy overalls that cut off mid thigh with a loose cotton white t-shirt. And their hiking boots were replaced with comfortable black Chucks.

Levy and Alice stood around watching them from across the street where the crew all gathered. They were now shooting the portion of the music video that involved the couple spending time with one another and showing that the relationship had turned serious.

They had already shot several scenes earlier in the morning going through a farmers market, where they interacted with the different popup shops and ate biscuits and brownies. And also having a picnic in Central Park, where Ava had rushed to every dog on their morning walk for some head scratches. 

She had filmed a few scenes skating down a street with a different set of clothing. The post-breakup clothing was more moody, representing the inner sadness of the character, but Beatrice couldn’t even manage to pull off sadness with Ava nearby. Every time she tried to appear like a tortured soul Ava would make a silly face, instantly ruining the shot for her. And it must have happened enough times because Alice had to literally grab her by the ear like a child and drag her away.

And now, they were pretty much wrapping up whatever this was with the skateboard, which wasn’t originally part of the story, but Ava got curious looking at Beatrice do it so flawlessly which made her want to try it herself.

“Just put your left foot forward.” She indicated with her foot, tapping the top of the deck, “Here.”

Ava did as instructed, wiggling a little in place, eyes intensely on Beatrice out of fear of looking down. “You say that like it's the easiest thing to do.”

“No, I know it’s not easy, but you have to do it if you want to learn.” She was pulling Ava now, slowly and carefully, ‘You have to trust me, I won’t let go.”

“I do!” The board shifted forward suddenly, Ava gripped her hands even tighter. A pain shot through her left hand, but she bit down, muffling whatever yelp was about to come out. “I trust you.”

(*)

And I never

Saw you coming

And I'll never

Be the same

She stopped moving, coming to Ava’s side, “Okay, flex your knees and find your center.”

“Okay.”

“Balanced?”

“I think so.”

“I’m going to push you forward.”

“WHAT!”

She walked behind Ava, hands coming to her waist. “Stay balanced!”

Ava nodded, adjusting her feet more firmly on the board.

“One…two…thre–”

“WAIT!” The hands around Ava’s waist freeze instantly. Ava’s eyes bore into hers, “You’ll catch me if I fall, right?”

“You’re not going to fall.”

“How can you possibly know that!”

“One…two…”

“Oh my God!”

“Three!” She pushed slightly with enough force for Ava to cover a meter or two of the street. Ava flexed her knees, and by some miracle was still on the board as it came to a stop. “You did it!” she rushed forward grabbing a hold of Ava’s waist again.

It wasn’t long until the arms settled around her neck and Ava bounced off the board. “I did it!” Ava slid down, feet landing on the floor, then they disentangled and Beatrice leaned down to pick up the skateboard.

“We need you guys to change for the next shot.” Levy yelled, their post-breakup clothing already thrown around his body, like a helpless mannequin.

The instructions were clear, they would walk on opposite sides of the streets going about their lives. The camera was situated in the middle of the street and was being pulled by a dolly backwards. The shot was supposed to represent them no longer being part of each other's lives, and seemingly moved on without sparing each other a glance. They shot it a few times, with neither looking towards each other, but something didn’t sit right with Beatrice.

After the scene was finished, they looked through. The thought of not having Ava look in her direction kept circling in her mind. That after everything, not being part of each other's lives was unnerving. It was close enough to correlate to their current predicament and she didn’t want that out there in the universe, even if it was fake.

“What if they looked at each other?” it was Ava who spoke up though, clearly as feeling as agitated as she did.

Alice chanced a glance between them before running a hand across her forehead. “I thought the whole point of the end was that they both moved on.” By now she knew Alice well enough to know the sentence was loaded with inference to her and Ava.

It was what Beatrice had originally wanted for the ending of the music video, but that deliberation now seemed rushed and poorly thought out. Like many things recently, it seemed. “We can change it.”

You come around and the armor falls

Pierce the room like a cannonball

Now all we know is don't let go

Ava smiled, already grabbing ahold of her hand and leading them back to their places for a reshoot. This time, as the camera pulled backwards, at the very last second both of them looked in the direction of one another, leaving the ending of the video ambiguous. 

They’ve stopped for lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant. Levy and Alice are across from her and Ava. Everyone's mouths are full of noodles and there has barely been any time for conversation. They’ve all ordered beef pho and a few side dishes to hold them over until the end of the shoot tonight. 

She’s finding it increasingly difficult not to be endeared by Ava’s chipmunk cheeks and the stray noodle poking out of her lips. “Biiifff iifff sooofff goood!” Ava says mouth full but with such delight that she has to look away.

Levy looks in Ava’s direction, giving her a squeamish look before setting his eyes on Beatrice. “We need to do the last fittings tomorrow and coordinate the thing.”

“Waff fffing?”

“Ava, I am not your assistant. As much as you would like to continue to burden me with your petty requests, I am unfortunately all booked out after today.”

“It has honestly been so nice having you around, Levy.” Alice retorted, in a teasing tone. “I can honestly say it’s been a blessing not having to cater to Ava’s every whim.”

“Yeah, well, I’m spent and no longer wish to be at the mercy of that fiend over there.” Levy recoiled as Beatrice kicked him underneath the table.

Ava turned from her bowl, cheeks still full of food. “Heeeeyffff!”

“Will you guys be just as busy tomorrow?” She’s asking more for conversation than anything else. She’s had Ava’s schedule on her phone for months. She knows Ava will be doing her final fitting tomorrow with Iris Van Herpen before they all make their Met Gala appearance Monday afternoon, on fashion’s biggest night.

The Met Gala boasts the world’s biggest stars and models. It is an extremely sought after event. Usually, only people who are deemed culturally relevant to contemporary society are invited. Robert Wun was their benefactor and Iris Van Herpen was Ava’s. It’s an annual event held on the first Monday in May, marking the opening of the Costume’s Institute yearly fashion exhibit. This year's theme for the attire was ‘Edacity’, and its excessive desire for wealth, power and possession. The band had interpreted the theme differently though. Focusing on over-consumption and its detrimental nature all around them, a sentiment shared by their designer. 

It’s Alice who answers, “We’re doing some interviews in the morning and in the afternoon doing the final fitting.” She bites into a chicken skewer and continues, “There’s also like a get ready with me kinda thing happening with Vogue, which will be frustrating to maneuver, but I’m hoping I can scare off the junior reporter before they get too comfortable.”

“What about you guys?” Ava is looking at her expectantly. 

Levy answers though, “I’m already dreading it, it’s going to be a whole day affair with them. I don’t know how I signed up to assist five people!” Alice and him glance at the final skewer before shoving each other for it momentarily. Levy loses. He huffs in place regaining his composure and continues, “I’ll be surprised if one of them doesn’t murder a seamstress.” He glares in Alice’s direction, threateningly. 

Alice bites into the skewer mischievously before asking, “Will this be your first time going, Levy?”

He answers, the same glare adorning his features, “First and probably last,” which is then shifted to Beatrice in the same threatening manner.

She kicks him under the table again. “Levy! Why don’t you eat your pho!?”

His scowl deepens further as he lowers himself to rub the injured leg. “I’m feeling very persecuted right now! I’ll eat my pho and mourn what you will all take from me soon enough. I will soon be banished from the Met Gala forevermore.”

She shifts to face Ava and Alice, “Ignore him, he’s being a drama queen.” Then, pushes the bowl closer to him testily. 

“I prefer Primadonna.”

(*)

“ Primadonna giiiiiirl, yeaaaah! ” Ava sang to Levy who stuck out his tongue. “ All I ever wanted was the world, I can’t help that I need it all—”

“ The primadonna life, the rise and faaaaaaaall. ” Alice joined, poking at his shoulders.

He rolled his eyes and acquiesced, but couldn’t help but join in as well, “ You say that I’m kinda difficult— ”

“You are!” Beatrice points in his direction.

“But it’s always someone else’s fault!” He retorts indignantly, pointing back at Beatrice.

Something catches Ava’s eyes though because her hands reach for Beatrice’s left hand, alarmed. Ava is running her fingers across the top of her hand, where Beatrice had previously applied makeup. An angry purple bruise is revealing itself to everyone at the table with each rub. “What—“ the words die in Ava’s mouth, she must have realised. “The taxi?”

Beatrice nods. The bruise had been easy to ignore the day after since it was green and slowly spreading across the top of her hand, but today it was a deep purple, running along the length of her hand and into her fingers. She had been applying makeup throughout the day in the hopes that it wouldn’t come through in the music video. 

“Yeah, that probably needs a retouch once we go back to the shoot,” Levy says, while looking through his satchel. “I thought maybe I had something here.” 

“You knew?” Ava sounds upset, with a cadence that Beatrice now recognises as Ava’s protective tone. Her eyebrows have drawn down and she’s looking at the bruise again. She continues to rub at it as if it would magically disappear. Her eyes go from Levy to Beatrice, and Beatrice knows the table’s mood has shifted instantly because Alice is anxiously looking between Levy, Ava and her. “Why didn’t you have this looked at? We’ve had time.” Ava is looking at her as if it’s just the two of them at the table.

“It’s fine, it’ll just take a few days to clear up.” She’s hoping this is enough for Ava to release her hand and control her emotions in front of Levy. 

“It’s not fine, look at your bruise, Beatrice.” Both their eyes look down in sync, the bruise somehow growing bigger and more purple in front of them.

“I–nothing’s broken. It…it just hurts.”

Ava is pulling Beatrice’s hand even closer now, she seems to want to do something, but thinks better of it, face retracting slightly away from the hand.  “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“What? Kept you from hitting your head?”

“Yes.” Ava breathes out, eyes going to Levy accusingly, “Has she been taking pain medication?”

Levy lifts his brows unsure if he should make a run for it, or not. “I asked this morning, but she refused. She’s very hard headed.”

She somehow couldn’t tear her eyes from Ava’s, which were now looking at her with concern, “Beatrice.” 

There’s something in the way that Ava had just said her name that makes her squirm instantly. Like, she’s messed up. “Medication would have just made me drowsy. I needed to think about the video.”

Ava extended her free hand to Alice, who without any kind of communication grabbed her backpack and procured two pills from a small, clearly labeled medication box. Ava grabbed the pills and deposited them in Beatrice’s right hand before saying, “Nom nom.” And after one fiery look, the pills were swallowed.

“Don’t say nom nom to Beatrice in that context or any other context in the future.” Levy was staring, hard. “Preferably never again in front of me.”

These are the hands of fate

You're my Achilles’ heel

This is the golden age of something good and right and real

As night descended upon New York City and the afternoon rain cleared, the street lights slowly came on reflecting against the rain puddles gathered on the street. They had switched to their ‘breakup date outfits’ which were meant to be more of an Autumn vibe. Ava wore a plaid skirt with a white sweater, and a navy coat. Meanwhile, she wore black pants with a cream turtleneck, and a beige houndstooth jacket.

The crew plus Levy and Alice stood outside the restaurant, cameras ready to take the shot of them angrily leaving through the front door. Ava went first pushing the door into her, and she followed eyes downcast. It only took one take for the door scene. Ava was apparently very good at situational acting, unlike her, but she kept her face down and pretended to be some kind of sad. 

 They were meant to walk to the nearby alley where they would film an argument between the couple. This was the part of the music video that concerned her. It would be the first time that both of them would hear the song together. Up to this point they had shot all the scenes without the music. 

The first verse of the song began to play as she joined Ava in the alley.

She was not the kind of person to hate the sound of her own voice, but right now it was giving her secondhand embarrassment. The lyrics were suddenly unpleasant and cringy in front of Ava. Who was looking at her sadly, the song clearly having an affect on her. 

Every time I start to believe in anything you're saying

I'm reminded that I should be gettin' over it

“Ready whenever you guys are,” The director spoke from beside the camera operator.

Looking off camera, Ava tensed her shoulders and swung back to face her, tears already welling up in her eyes. “Why can’t you just trust me?” Ava uttered brokenly. “Nothing happened between us. We just ran into each other on the 7 train the other day and got to talking. I didn’t even think about it later. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you.”

“Right. You conveniently forgot to mention that you ran into your ex, the one you almost married, the one that got away. I saw the way you looked at each other just now.”

Good. They were going through their lines perfectly. Just a few more seconds of seeing Ava like this and then it’ll all be over. They can go back to not listening to this song, preferably never again. To not have to relive this weird breakup they’ve conjured for the music video. Because as much as she wanted to say that it wasn’t affecting her, it was. It was getting too close to being an argument she’s had in her head for weeks now, which she’s stowed far in the hopes it went away, much like the angry green monster that sometimes bubbled inside her.

“I am with YOU. Don’t you trust me? Why is it your default to always mistrust me? You’re twisting the truth to fit into some illusion in your head. Why is your self worth so low that you think I would cheat on you?” Ava went off script on the last sentence.

What the fuck was that? That wasn’t part of their script. They were meant to just keep going with the whole cheating thing until Ava walked away.

“My–my self worth?” Her eyes skimmed Ava’s back and forth for any kind of explanation.

“Are you really that in your head about everything that you would much sooner sacrifice this than be happy?” Her stomach dropped. This was real. Ava was actively speaking to her about their relationship. She remained silent, too slow to keep up with Ava’s emotions. “I can’t keep doing this.”

She needs to go back to the lines, she needs to get them back on script. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

“It’s what you want isn’t it? You just don’t want to say it.” Ava doesn’t go back to the script, she turns from Beatrice and begins to walk back to the street, where the camera pans to her.

Beatrice belatedly remembers her line again as she rushes after Ava, “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave.”

Ava continues to walk away.

“CUT” The director yells, already shifting to watch the replay. They’re perfectly still for what seems like ages. “We need a few close up shots of just Ava as she’s walking away.”

Ava turns to the alley again, eyes on the paved floor.

An assistant grabs her by the arm pulling her away from the shot. As they continue to record, she can see the tears have run down Ava’s cheeks and her eyes are red and puffy. Her whole body aches to go to her, but she remains rooted to the spot. Staring where Ava had stood. Suddenly she felt the wind come up, a chill ran down her spine, the weather had taken a turn. Beatrice wrapped the jacket tighter around herself. Feeling colder and colder by the minute like the warmth had been stolen from her. 

Levy unexpectedly appeared next to her, clapping her awkwardly on the shoulder “You did good, Descartes. That was heartbreaking to watch. In the best way. Come sit down while we wait to wrap up.” Levy began leading her away, pulling at her elbow. “Stop nibbling your lips! Where’s the damn lip balm? I will not have you embarrassing me at the Met Gala with your chapped lips!” 

—

Beatrice has been pacing the hallway outside her hotel room for the past thirty minutes, and she knows it’s Beatrice because she looked through the peephole after the first few sounds of footsteps. And she knows it’s been at least thirty minutes because that’s how long she’s been standing by the door. For what? She doesn’t know, but something has got to come from this, no one just paces outside someone's room for no reason.

After the music video wrapped she came straight to the hotel room with Alice’s help, who had only looked at her once and realised she wasn’t coping. They ate their room service dinner quietly, and by ‘they’ she means Alice ate dinner while she picked at it, mind deep in thought. They didn’t speak about the shoot, Alice knew why she was upset, there wasn’t any point in talking about it anymore. All she asked was for Ava to have a good night’s sleep. They would handle tomorrow together.

As Beatrice paces outside, her mind continues to pace as well. This wasn’t healthy. They couldn’t just ignore this anymore, not like they had the past 3 days. Listening to the song while beside Beatrice was probably the worst thing she could have done. Putting a face, Beatrice’s face , along with her voice and lyrics, just made everything come together in the most horrendous way. 

Beatrice had kept her distance the moment tears welled in her eyes. Not only that, Ava had lost control. She had lost grip on the moment and resorted to calling out their own situation. Of course Alice would be the only other person present to know what she meant, and maybe Levy who continued to look between them after lunch as if trying to solve a puzzle, but that didn’t mean that it was right of her to do so. 

It had landed so heavily between them the second the words left her mouth. Springing something like that out of nowhere on Beatrice was unnecessary and had probably damaged whatever semblance of their relationship she had regained over the past few days. It was always something that she had been told from a very young age, ‘you feel too much’, ‘you don’t think before you act’, and ‘you lash out like a wounded animal when you’re angry’. She needed to step back from her anger if she wanted to have Beatrice in her life in any meaningful way.

The steps came closer to the door, something that had happened a few times already, each time ending with Beatrice backing away and pacing again. Everything inside her screamed to fling open the door. To talk to Beatrice. To at least let her know she was there waiting, but she couldn’t. This has to come from Beatrice. She was done with initiating anything between them. She couldn’t keep being the one to chase her. 

There was a small thud, basically impossible to hear if it were not for the fact that she was standing in front of the door when it happened. She could hear Beatrice inhaling a couple of times from behind the door as if composing herself. She took that moment to come closer to the door, head coming to rest against the wood, her left hand as well, waiting.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Beatrice’s voice broke as she said it, so low, meant for no one else to hear.

Her heart leapt to her throat. She waited. Waited for Beatrice to say or do something else, but when nothing else came she took in a breath and said, “I’m so angry with you.” She could hear Beatrice take a few steps back, startled. But she stayed close. “Beatrice, I’m so angry with you.” She hates how much pain is coming through her voice. Hates how vulnerable she sounds.

Beatrice comes close to the door, then the light thud again. “I’m so sorry, Ava.” A few seconds pass where she can only hear the light exhales of both their breaths. “Ca–can you open the door, please?” Beatrice pleads, voice soft.

She doesn’t know why she looks to the ceiling, maybe for some kind of divine intervention or for fortitude. Her lips twist, considering her options, but she barely has time to weigh them before her left hand reaches for the door handle, seemingly of its own accord, unlocking the door and pulling it inwards slightly. She puts herself between the doorway and Beatrice.

Beatrice has her hair up in a low bun, strands falling loose and is wearing an oversized blue sweater over a blouse, black pants and boots. Not what you would expect anyone to be wearing close to midnight. “Do you usually make a habit of pacing hotel hallways or–”

“I’ve been inconsiderate.”

“Just that?” 

“I’ve also been mean.”

Mean. How descriptive. 

“Is that all, then?” She can feel her annoyance spike instantly, she knows she should hear Beatrice out, but Beatrice’s face is impassive. “Why are you speaking with the vocabulary of a five year old?”

Beatrice sighs, eyes blinking a couple of times and lowering to look at the floor in askance before they meet hers again. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder .” This time Beatrice puts her hands in her pockets, hangs her head, turns, and begins to walk down the hallway. Panic sets in. She let her anger get the best of her and Beatrice is walking away from a potential conversation. She knows she needs to be patient and let Beatrice come to her, so she pulls the door completely open this time and sets one foot outside in the hallway. “I didn’t say you should leave.” 

Beatrice turns around, stray hairs framing her face, a frown upon her countenance. She extends her hand out into the hall, hoping for Beatrice to take it, lest she dematerialise into a cloud of smoke. Beatrice’s hand intertwines with her own and she pulls her inside, closing the door behind them. 

In the suite the only source of light is the one that comes from a lamp all the way across the small living room and inside the bedroom. She silently guides them both through the room, as Beatrice scrambles to remove her boots, and into the bedroom. She can see Beatrice’s features in the light now, her eyes are adjusting to the low light, and everything seems calmer.

“I don’t know how–I don’t know where to start.”

“Just say whatever comes to your mind first.”

“There’s thousands of thoughts running through my mind right now.”

“Okay. Well, think of me, then say whatever comes first.”

“I adore you. There isn’t a moment when my mind doesn’t stray to thoughts of you.”

“What about the past few months when all you did was ignore me and any attempt I made at communication?”

“Even then.” Beatrice looks wounded. “I know that it’s too late now to take back my actions, but I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused you. I should have at least spoken to you about it.”

“Which actions are you sorry for, exactly? The decision to walk away from me as I called out to you? Or maybe it was the no contact for months, making me think I had imagined it all?”

“I think, no, I thought I was doing what was right for the band.”

“The band? What about what was right for me? For us !? Aside from the sheer disrespect you continuously showed me.”

Beatrice is pacing now, the hands back in her pockets. “That’s not fair, you know how much pressure we’re all under.”

She on the other hand remains perfectly still, hands crossed, “Bullshit. We’re all under pressure, Beatrice. You don’t get to use this as an excuse or something to hide behind.”

“What would you have me do? An apology will not suffice it seems.”

“I just want you to be honest with me, is that so hard?”

“I am being honest.”

“No. You’re not.” She takes a step towards Beatrice, hands coming free from her chest, “You’re saying what you believe you should say. What you think I want to hear.”

“I don’t know how,” Beatrice replies, frustrated.

“Yes, you do.” 

Beatrice’s shoulders begin to tense, “No, I don’t!”

There’s only one way to get Beatrice to come to terms with her emotions. She needs to mention the song to at least begin to unravel the feelings behind it. Beatrice writes about how she feels, she doesn’t say it, and that’s her in. “Tell me about the song.”

“I don’t want to talk about the song.”

“Why? Because it bothers you?” Beatrice nods. “Why does it bother you? Why did you write the song?”

“Because…” Beatrice exhales. “Because I was jealous! Is that what you want me to say? I thought that I was just something that didn’t matter. Something fleeting for you. The thought of you with someone else made my heart ache and all I thought I could do was write a song about it. Because if I busied myself then maybe I wouldn’t call you and I wouldn’t seem so pathetic.”

“How could you not matter to me, Beatrice? How could you think you were just something I would mess with?” Beatrice shrugs and looks away. “I knew how it would look if I went to dinner with him. I was only trying to get your attention.”

“You did it on purpose?” There’s disbelief in her tone and her features are regressing to that blank stare, Beatrice is about to her walls up again.

“No, the opportunity presented itself. I wanted you to see it, to at least call me back upset or angry or something, anything. But you didn’t. You never reached out.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“What do you want to talk about then? Let me remind you, you, Beatrice, were the one that showed up outside my hotel room. What else did you want if not to talk? So fucking TALK!” Too late to stop herself, Ava realised she had let her anger get the best of her again. 

She watched in slow motion as Beatrice’s face hardened and her eyes flashed. The next thing she knew Beatrice had pulled her hard towards her and pushed their lips together.  

(*)

Todo tembló dentro de mí

(Everything shook within me)

El universo escribió que fueras para mí

(The universe wrote that you would be mine)

Y fue tan fácil, quererte tanto

(Loving you came so easily)

Algo que no imaginaba

(Something that I could have never imagined)

Then, arms wrapped around her waist holding her tightly in place. Hands bunched in her sleeping shirt as Beatrice’s lips tugged and pulled as if searching for some kind of meaning in their lips. And she wants to push Beatrice away, make her talk again, but can’t find the strength to. Because having Beatrice initiate anything at this point is a win. So she winds her arms around Beatrice as well, holding her close. She finds her way inside the baggy sweater and blouse, fingers sliding across the warm skin she finds there. 

fue perderme en tu amor, simplemente pasó y todo tuyo ya soy

(It was like getting lost in your love, it simply happened and now I’m completely yours)

Beatrice doesn’t recoil, if anything her lips become more insistent and she can feel her own lips begin to bruise under the urgency of their desire. All she wants to do is crawl inside Beatrice’s sweater and touch everything her hands can get a hold of. Beatrice has also found her way to her skin, hands running along her back, the sides of her ribs, and stroking upwards. Her legs hit the bed frame, almost losing balance. 

We should stop.

But Beatrice is committed to the task, right hand coming down to Ava’s waist, while the other one lays flat on bed, urging both of them down onto it. It’s terrifying how her body reacts instinctually, tugging at Beatrice’s sweater while still matching her lips ardently. Beatrice breaks the kiss only for a second, earning a pitiful little whine from her as their lips separate. They're both panting for air now. She can feel Beatrice’s exhale on her lips, that’s how close they still are to one another. Every intelligible thought evaporates when she feels Beatrice lean down to bite at her collarbone, then soothing the bite with the lick of her tongue. 

Antes que pase más tiempo contigo amor

(Before we spend more time together, love)

Tengo que decir que eres el amor de mi vida

(I need to tell you that you’re the love of my life)

Antes que te ame más escucha por favor

(Before I love you more you have to listen to me)

Déjame decir que todo te di

(Let me tell you that I’ve given you everything)

Arching back, Beatrice pulls both sweater and blouse off in one go, revealing a simple nude bra and the abs that make her go a little dizzy sometimes when she thinks about them for too long. Ava can practically feel her brain turning into goo. And her heart rate is on the verge of cardiac arrest.

Y no hay cómo explicar, pero, menos notar simplemente, así lo sentí

(And there’s no way to explain, but, just simply know that’s how I felt it)

Cuando te vi

(When I saw you)

Beatrice's eyes are fully blown when they meet hers, inclining herself to grab the ends of Ava’s shirt. The short hairs hit the back of her neck when the shirt comes clean off and she barely has a moment to register it because Beatrice is crawling on her just as fast. There’s so much to touch and look at all at once, and her fingers are working double time, not really sure what to give attention to. Her hands do a full sweep of the stomach, biceps, shoulders and then neck. Once there, hands wander to pull Beatrice’s hair out of her bun, the hair tie joining its pair already on her wrist. She weaves her fingers through Beatrice’s hair, pulling her down into another kiss.

Me sorprendió todo de ti

(Everything about you surprised me)

De blanco y negro a color me convertí

(I changed from white to black to colour)

Sé que no es fácil decir te amo

(I know saying I love you is difficult)

Yo tampoco lo esperaba

(I also didn’t expect it)

Pero, así es el amor, simplemente pasó y todo tuyo ya soy

(But that’s how love is, it simply happened and now I’m completely yours)

Ava notes that Beatrice is not at all shy about what she wants. The hands are exploring everywhere, and so is her mouth whenever they break apart for air. Beatrice’s hand goes to her back, caressing at first, but then searching for something, the bra clasp, but she fumbles, not managing to do what she set out to do. 

Her brain actually short circuits along with Beatrice, who breaks their kiss to look down at the clothing item in question. The other hand joins at the back, pulling the fabric of the bra a couple of times before there’s a resigned pant by her ear.

Oh. 

“It’s–it’s a front clasp.” And she wants to laugh because it is equal parts hilarious and cute, but she won’t, she won't do that to Beatrice. She props herself up on her elbows, for the first time taking in just how out of breath and disheveled Beatrice is, hair loose, cheeks flushed and lips bruised, just like hers. Beautiful . Beatrice actually takes this time to sit back atop Ava’s thighs, regarding the bra with an angry scowl. And it gives her the time to truly think about what they’re doing and were about to do.

They need to stop, she needs to stop this. Not like this. Not while both of them are angry and uncertain. 

Beatrice is inching forward again, lips lazily feathering her cheek with kisses. “We should sleep. We need to sleep, Bea. We’re basically running on bad coffee and anger. And we both have a long day tomorrow.”

Beatrice sits back again, regarding her for a second, not upset, but a little perplexed with the sudden change of events. “Oh…okay. Okay, yeah…I’ll go then,” Beatrice says, already lifting a leg off to un-straddle her, but doesn’t get the chance to move too far before Ava’s hands wrap around her waist, keeping her in place, thumbs caressing the skin there. 

“No, stay.”

“Or I could stay,” Beatrice replies dumbly, eyes still well below eye level.

She leans forward and kisses Beatrice’s nose, because she can. “Good.”

Beatrice flushes red again, but kisses Ava’s nose as well before getting off her.

She’s off the bed as well, grabbing the shirt which had somehow landed on top of their only light source.

“I need something to wear.”

“I’ll get you something.”

“Okay.”

She’s sitting on the bed when Beatrice emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, teeth brushed, hair somewhat tamed and looking adorable in an old Totoro shirt she refuses to part with and shorts. When Beatrice reaches the bed Ava pulls the covers from the right side in anticipation. 

They both snuggle into the duvet, eventually facing each other. It’s Beatrice who opens her arms for her to come close, and she doesn’t think twice about it, already wrapping her arms around Beatrice in a vice grip, legs as well. A thought runs through her mind then, and she reaches over for Beatrice’s left hand around her, giving it a quick kiss.

“Are you going to call me a frog again?”

She takes this time to slide the hair tie back onto Beatrice’s wrist. An action that doesn’t go unnoticed. It felt significant. “I didn’t call you a frog!”

They both chuckle against each other, sleep feeling far away but also nearby.

“I’ve missed being with you.”

She leans forward to nuzzle against Beatrice’s cheek. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

“Mmm…” Comes the sleepy reply as Beatrice’s eyes blink close.

Tilting her head back, Ava’s eyes trace along the lines of Beatrice’s face, across her eyes and nose and her pouty upturned and slightly swollen lips. Her hand reaches up then, fingers running along the length of Beatrice’s cheekbones, tracing the constellations she finds there, against the fine moonlight. 

A soft snore emerges from Beatrice’s slightly opened mouth and a giggle threatens to bubble up out of Ava’s chest, but she manages to suppress it. Shifting closer once again, Ava burrows into the crook of Beatrice’s neck and breathes her in, slowly succumbing to sleep.

Antes que pase más tiempo contigo amor

(Before we spend more time together, love)

Tengo que decir que eres el amor de mi vida

(I need to tell you that you’re the love of my life)

Antes que te ame más escucha por favor

(Before I love you more you have to listen to me)

Déjame decir que todo te di

(Let me tell you that i’ve given you everything)

Y no hay cómo explicar, pero, menos notar simplemente, así lo sentí

(And there’s no way to explain, but, just simply know that’s how I felt it)

Cuando te vi

(When I saw you)

—

Sunday, May 4th. New York City

Blearily, Ava blinks awake, hands searching. All that meets her is cool sheets. She opens her eyes. She’s alone and neatly folded on the bedside table is Beatrice’s sleepwear from the night before.

— 

Beatrice is running. Dodging morning runners, co-workers with coffees in hand deep in conversation, nannies pushing strollers, zig-zagging past frolicking dogs. She had lost track of time and is now late. 

At 4:21am her eyes had shot open. Lying stock still tangled in Ava, her thoughts had spiralled. Frozen immobile by looming panic. What the hell had she done? She had lost her grip on reality the night before and was now kicking herself. In a moment of weakness after the events of the last 3 days and the consequence of being too close to Ava, caught up in her bubble, Beatrice had allowed herself to want. Beatrice was not allowed to want. She didn’t deserve to want, not after how she had treated Ava these past few months. She had made her choice. She needed to put their careers first, she needed to be the stronger one. 

They could not work. They would not work. 

She wanted to move. To put any kind of space between them but found that she didn’t have the strength to. Ava’s rhythmic breathing was calming her and in that moment, she began to feel peaceful again. Ava had tucked herself right under her chin, her puffs of air tickling at her throat. It started small, her right hand unwrapping itself from Ava’s waist, trailing up her back. So soft, barely enough pressure to wake Ava. The hand ran across Ava’s shoulder to her arm where it caressed the skin there. 

Ava stirred, nuzzling closer. “Mmmm?”

Her hand stopped their ministrations, running back down to wrap around Ava’s waist. “Sorry, go back to sleep.”

Ava nodded, placing a sleepy kiss on her neck. 

In that moment all Beatrice could do was pull Ava closer, placing soft kisses on top of her head, soothing her back to sleep.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of laying next to Ava, thoughts flip flopping back and forth, an eternity of convincing herself of what she needed to do, clammy from her anxiety, Beatrice unfroze her limbs. She knew what she had to do. What she must do. Gingerly extricating herself from Ava, she rolled out of the bed, taking care not to make a sound or shift the bed too much. Praying her eyes had adjusted enough in the dark room and that she did not cause a ruckus by bumping into any furniture or tripping over, Beatrice tiptoed into the bathroom and got dressed in her clothes. Treading carefully in her socked feet, boots in hand, Beatrice deposited the folded clothing on the bedside table and carefully observed Ava’s content face and still body, chest lightly moving up and down with each breath. 

This was it. There was no coming back from this. When she leaves, this is the end for them. Ava and Beatrice cannot come back from this. 

She doesn’t deserve Ava. Not after everything. 

Allowing herself one last moment of weakness, Beatrice ghosts her lips over Ava’s cheek. So close but not touching. Goodbye.

With one last look behind her, she slips out of Ava’s hotel suite. Taking a moment to sit down in the hallway to pull her boots on, she fights the urge to scream. She should have left a note. Ava doesn’t deserve to be left without a word, without explanation. But it’s too late now. The door had shut behind her and she couldn’t get back in without disturbing Ava from her slumber. She will text… no, she’ll call Ava later at a more reasonable hour and offer an apology for the way she had left. 

Ashamed and standing up, she begins to run. Running from what she had  done and all she was feeling. Running from all she was losing. She runs down the hotel stairwell, all 18 flights of stairs, through the silent lobby and bursts out the doors of the Plaza Hotel. Seeing Central Park across the road, she runs toward it. After sprinting for what seems like forever, she slows to a stop by Harlem Meer. Veering off the footpath into the nearby bushes, she throws up. It’s mostly bile. While Beatrice had been sprinting, as if she could outrun her demons and the consequences of her actions towards Ava, the sun had begun to rise, marking the dawn of a new day. 

Now, in Harlem, she sits by the edge of the lake and watches the ripple of the water with the wind and the dappled sunlight reflections. There, she sinks ever deeper into her thoughts . Ava will follow where you lead. But who are you? Who do you think you are? Who are you? Who are you to lead her? Who are you to lead them? You are not worthy. It’s like she can hear the echoes of her parents’ voices, her extended family’s voices in her head. Picking at her deepest scabs. 

Beatrice is fucked. Her phone was dead, she has no money and she had realised too late that they had agreed to meet in the hotel lobby at 8:00am to head to their final fitting. With plenty of cushion time to account for New York City rush hour traffic. She is very very fucked. Sprinting back in the direction of the Plaza Hotel, a helpful passerby had answered her frantic query with a “It’s 8:30!”. And she was still only halfway through the Park. She had been lost in her head, sitting by the lake, for over 2 hours.  

Perspiring heavily, Beatrice skidded into the lobby, looking like a deranged maniac. It was a miracle the door people had opened the door for her at all. “Sorry I’m late. I went out for a run and lost track of time.”

Mary is the first to cast her eyes on her, and she’s not pleased. “On a run? Like through the lake? You’re soaked. And in those clothes?”

“Weren’t you wearing that last night before you went on your walk?” Camila asks as well, her attention jumping from her outfit to her phone’s screen probably checking the time. “It’s 8:56, we’re very late.”

Shit.

She’s still wearing last night’s clothing. “I figured it was already dirty so—”

Camila is now actively dissecting her, “I didn’t hear you come in last night? When did you leave this morning?”

“Six-ish, had a lot of energy.”

“You ran for three hours?” Camila was not letting up.

Lilith had now turned to their discussion, a foul smirk on the side of her lips. “Cam, I think Beatrice wants to get away with something. I think you should let her.”

“Get away with what? I’m so confused!” Camila yelped.

Yasmine comes into the lobby, hands waving frantically, “Where is Bea– oh, there you are. The car is here and someone needs to come deal with Levy, he’s yelling hysterically at the driver.”

The ride to the rented studio for the fitting is silent. Mary refuses to make eye contact, Camila keeps looking at her trying to figure something out, Yasmine is biting her nails, and Lilith keeps winking in her direction, but not in a teasing way, more of ‘you’re so fucking fucked when we finish our schedule you fucking asshole’ way, and she doesn’t blame her. 

She did it again. She let herself get carried away with thoughts of Ava and she has once again let their situation affect her obligations. They were late to their fitting. This was inexcusable. She would need to apologise on behalf of the band, especially to Robert Wun who was probably already stressed enough with having to get them all sorted before tomorrow.

“Does anyone have a charger?” She asks in the hopes that either Yasmine or Camila reply.

“So let me get this straight. You didn’t charge your phone last night. Went for a run in your clothing. And came late to meet us at the lobby. And what? You’re now asking for a charger?” Lilith is the first to reply, unfortunately.

“Usually, when someone needs to charge their phone they need a charger.”

“Well, I don’t have one.”

“Thanks for the useless information, you arse. How am I meant to charge my phone with that?”

Mary is turning to her now, “I think you can do without your phone.” There’s a certain look in Mary’s face that says she knows exactly why Beatrice is asking for a charger. “Clearly, it hasn’t been much help today.”

It’s Yasmine who taps her shoulders once the car quiets again, offering a powerbank and cord. 

They take longer than expected to arrive at their fitting, the traffic in New York being the absolute worst. The moment they step out of the car is the moment that Beatrice’s phone finally blinks back to life. Too late . They’re all manhandled upon arrival with clothing being pulled off by impatient seamstresses. She’s stripped bare apart from her underwear and bra in front of her bandmates, but she’s not the only one. They’re all in the large studio being poked and prodded every few seconds. 

Lilith is watching her curiously, with that stupid smirk again, like she knows something. “Is that a hickey?”

It’s loud enough for the others to face her and they’re all gawking now. Looking for the supposed hickey that she allegedly has. There’s heat rising behind her neck and her cheeks feel warm immediately. She needs to look in the mirror but a seamstress is in the way. Her neck is literally doing acrobatics to get a closer look.

Lilith laughs, “I’m just messing with you, but interesting that you scrambled to look anyway.”

She has a half mind to haul Lilith outside by the roots of her hair, in front of the seamstresses and all. “I can see that you’re going to be an utter delight today.”

“I’m just getting started.”

“ENOUGH!” Levy thunders. His face a black cloud. “This is not the time for flippant jokes. We were late, and this is simply inexcusable. You will all do everything that is asked of you today and show Robert and everyone here the respect they all deserve for creating these outfits. Do not forget. It is an utter privilege for you to be wearing this and representing this Fashion House.” Whirling upon Beatrice, Levy looms closer, his voice a threatening mutter, “I will be speaking to Suzanne about today’s events.”

The gown she will wear tomorrow for the Gala is a coat-like dress covered in glass shards, which their designer had said represented love, sacrifice and personal loss. And she wanted to laugh at how on the nose it was. The fact that she would be wearing a dress that so perfectly fit what was going on in her life. An equally fractured headpiece would go along with the dress to keep her face hidden on the red carpet.

The seamstresses helped her into it, holding the dress aloft for her to slip inside, quickly fastening it around her. They set to work right away, pinning any extra fabric in place, and adding last minute shards to more sensitive areas. Leather high heel boots were placed by her feet, and she stepped in, then, came the headpiece. She could barely see through it, and she only had today to get used to the entire ensemble. After months of concepts, fittings, measurement, and adjustments it was all finished. Several rings were placed upon her fingers, being mixed and matched as the designer and his assistants decided which combination perfectly suited the look.

Camila’s outfit was being fitted at the same time, her black and white gown was covered by a massive veil and hat. Beatrice wasn't sure what it represented exactly but it had to do with decay and metamorphosis. Camila stumbled a few times as they attempted to get her inside the knee length heeled boots.

Once they were both finished it was Yasmine, Mary, and Lilith’s turn. They stood nearby, fully dressed watching the other band members go through the same process. Backing away quietly, Beatrice reaches for her phone, cast aside on a table lined up against the wall. Praying noone notices, she chances a glance down at her screen. A notification of a missed call from ‘Do not answer’ at 6:38 a.m.. Shit . She needs to call her back . Glancing up, she meets Levy’s glare and cowers slightly. It will have to wait.

Lilith and Yasmine both had gowns covered in pleated silk, Lilith’s white and Yasmine’s skin toned. Both with trailing veils representing the spirit and the flesh. Yasmine, though, had a terrifying skin graft of a head on top of the veil, which made some kind of sense…Mary’s was her favourite, it symbolised the first snowfall of Winter. It was black gown with a matching veil, which was richly embroidered with crystals emulating iced snow. 

They stood side by the side as pictures were taken of the complete looks. Every accessory, shoe, and headpiece was accounted for and would be set aside for Robert Wun to bring to the hotel tomorrow along with the army of stylists. And tomorrow they would wake at the crack of dawn and get everything put back on plus, hair, makeup and nails.

The sun was beginning to set outside the studio as the traffic outside picked up once again. They had been at the fitting for hours. They had not even broken for lunch, forgoing it in order to ensure everything would be completed. Everything was ready for tomorrow. All that was left was the presentation. They all sat along on the floor of the now empty room. The designer had left it up to them to decide on the final elements of the red carpet and reminded Levy not to worry too much about Anna Wintour, he would deal with her if there was any ill will towards him.

The plan was simple in nature, but could have the potential to spiral if things got in their way. They were to start their walk before the entrance at Fifth Ave at 82nd street, after being dropped off a short distance away. It was all coordinated along to ‘ Fils de joie ’, if they heard it go off it meant that Levy had managed to play it for the outside speakers and they could begin their walk through the red carpet. It should all take the length of the song to do. A song which represented the exploitation of a sex worker, and in this case drawing a comparison to the hard work designers and their team put behind each gown. They would walk one after the other without stopping. Once atop of the stairs before the entrance they would stand next to each other for photos before continuing inside to change for the rest of the night.

The entire demonstration would represent the gowns and nothing else. Not themselves. Not the event. Just the hard work of the design team, outside the influence of what the Met Gala had become, an exhibition of unbridled wealth, power, and possession. They were going to completely go against the theme of the gala and subvert the expectations of everyone around them.

—

Morosely, Beatrice stares down at the amber liquid, cradling the crystal tumbler in her hand. Beside her on the bar top lay her phone, open to Ava’s contact page. It was 6pm. She had survived the final fittings day. The others had dispersed, eager to rinse off the day and head out for dinner. But she had stayed. 

It was 6pm. She had failed to call Ava back. It had now been almost a full 12 hours since Ava had called her. It was too late. Too late to offer an explanation. 

Raising the tumbler up to her lips. SLAM . A hand struck the bar top next to her, startling her out of her pensiveness. Ava’s hand. 

The commotion earned the side glance of the Plaza’s bartender and that of the few guests sitting and enjoying the lobby’s bar. 

Ava reached over and snatched the whisky tumbler out of her right hand. “ You don’t do this . You do not drink Beatrice Young. You cannot start this,” Ava lowly vocalised, anger imbuing every syllable. Ava downs the two fingers of whisky in one shot, grimacing as it burns, quickly glancing down at her phone. “Let’s go.”

With that, Ava grabs Beatrice’s right hand and bodily hauls her off the bar stool, keeping her hand in a death grip, in silence, across the lobby and into the waiting elevator. Ava jabs at the button for the 19th floor, slamming it a few times for good measure. Beatrice stays silent. Her hand feels sweaty in Ava’s hand, the bones in her hand beginning to ache beneath Ava’s clinch but she dare not try to let go. She barely dares to breathe. Chancing a look in the reflection of the mirror in the elevator, Ava’s face is resolute, face marred with a foreboding scowl, her lips downturned and almost white with how tightly they are clenched together. She’s never been more afraid . She can feel the fury emanating off Ava in waves.

The elevator dings as they arrive at the 19th floor, Ava dragging her through the corridor, swiping her key card and shoving her into the room. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” Ava screams, right as the door closes behind her. “Who just fucking leaves someone like that? Without a word? Do you have any idea how it felt!? To wake up to find you had left in the middle of the night? How shitty that made me feel?’ Ava’s hand starts to run through her hair. “What am I? A play thing to you? Have you no respect for me?” She tries to speak, but Ava raises a finger, “No. Don’t answer that. Your actions have shown me enough. You don’t respect me at all.”

 “I’m sorry.” It goes unheard.

“And then I had to go about my day, putting on a mask. Oh. You better watch your back. Alice may just shove you into oncoming traffic. FUCK! You didn’t leave a note. You didn’t text. You didn’t call. You couldn’t even give me that. Even after I told you how it made me feel last night. Even after, even after...”

Beatrice is standing stockstill in the middle of the living room while Ava continues her tirade. Ava’s hands trembling slightly with the force of her emotions, she’s pacing back and forth in front of the door, gesturing wildly, “Y mira esa cara estúpida y perfecta mirándome como siempre, sin nada que decir! En verdad trato de entenderte, pero cada vez me haces lo mismo y ya me tienes hasta la última hostia! Me da una rabia y después recuerdo que eres tú y me arrepiento. No sé de dónde sacas los cojones para arruinarme la vida así, porque no los veo. Joder, mujer, cómo me maldices el día. Y Por qué carajo decía “do not answer” en el nombre del contacto?”

As Ava pauses to take a breath, Beatrice interjects again, “I’m sorry. I meant to call.”

“YOU MEANT TO CALL!? WELL YOU DIDN’T, DID YOU? YOU ASSHOLE!” 

Ring. Ring . 

The hotel landline rings from the buffet table in the living room. Ava storms over to it, picks up the handset and barks out a curt, “WHAT.” Ava listens for a second and then slams the handset back into the holder, ripping the cord from the wall and flings the phone onto the nearby sofa. 

Beatrice swivels and looks towards the exit longingly. Ava clearly notices the focus of Beatrice’s attention and scrambles back to place herself in front of the door.

“Speak,” Ava commands. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh. My. God. What do you mean you don’t know what to say? You say plenty in your songs? Right? That’s what you do. You hide yourself away, you hide yourself behind your song lyrics. Why? God. Fucking. Dammit. Beatrice. Why are you like this? How have you not imploded yet? Can you not just speak? Talk. Say anything. I want to listen. Please. Just let me listen.”

(*)

All that no one sees,

you see what's inside of me

Every nerve that hurts, 

you heal deep inside of me

Ava quiets. She’s watching Beatrice closely. Beatrice can feel herself breathing heavily, struggling to get enough air into her lungs. “I’m doing the best I can,” Beatrice croaks out in a broken whisper.

At that, Ava closes her eyes and seems to withdraw into herself for a moment. Upon opening her eyes again, she steps into the bedroom and Beatrice loses sight of her. She can hear Ava struggling, which causes her to step into the room. There, she finds Ava trying to undo the latches of the window.

“What are you doing?”

Ava is walking around the bedroom, collecting random objects, a remote, a notepad, loose pens, a magazine. She throws them on the bed then glances back to the open window. “If you need to throw things out so you can be happy with me then I’ll help you collect them. If that’s what makes it bearable for you and allows you to eventually choose me, then, that’s enough for me. That’s enough for now.”

The conversation from months ago passes through her mind in seconds. They were at Ava’s recording studio, just having sung Björk’s ‘Hyper-ballad’ on the piano. They discussed the song and its different meanings. Ava’s interpretation had left her speechless. 

Her eyes were on Ava’s. Surprised to find a kindred spirit. “But it’s really about casting away your negativity, the fear of whatever comes next.”

“Well, yes there’s that but also not carrying everything on your own. It’s allowing yourself to be intimate with your emotions and inner demons and sharing them with the person you love.”

“Wait, but she doesn’t say that at all.”

Ava swatted her arm, bouncing a little on the shared bench, “That’s the point! She’s not sharing her negative emotions out of fear that her relationship will be too fragile to endure it.”

The objects were the representation of the repressed emotions and baggage carried around by the person and the act of metaphorically discarding them was the release. The release to then have the strength to be with the person you love without the fear of losing them because of what they might see in you. 

Ava was asking her to liberate herself so that they could be happy together, even if it was all Beatrice could do for now.

“Ava, you don’t have to do that.”

“You know that you don’t need to carry everything on your own. I’m here for you in any capacity you’ll have me. I want you to share what makes you happy, what makes you sad, all the in-betweens. Everything. Bea, I swear I have the patience. You just need to be honest with me. And I know that right now, that’s not possible, so, this? This you can do. It’s a start.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not that simple?”

“No.”

Ava grabs the remote. “I need you to throw the remote out the window,” She says while walking towards Beatrice. Ava shoves the remote into her chest, for her to take. Beatrice shakes her head, and begins to retreat.

“Throw the remote.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” Ava’s voice is rising again. “Beatrice, throw the fucking remote! If this is what makes it possible for you to be happy with me then throw the remote.” She flings the remote in the direction of the bed. “No?” Rumbles forth from Ava’s chest as she shakes her head in disbelief. Resigned. “Then, go. Just…go.”

“Can I stay, please? I’m sorry if I… if this hurts.”

“Yeah. Well, at least it’s not a flesh wound,” Ava’s voice cracks as she says it. “Go Beatrice. I don’t want to see you right now.”

I feel emotional landscapes

They puzzle me, confuse

Can the riddle get solved?

And you push me up to this state of emergency

How beautiful to be

State of emergency is where I want to be

State of emergency

How beautiful to be

[sanders1665]

Blue Café, mid-morning. The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods fills the air. Memphis leans back in his chair, nursing a steaming cup of dark roast. Erydan sits across from him, his tea untouched, as Memphis glances at him, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Memphis: You know, I’ve followed this UFO stuff my entire life. Ancient mysteries, strange phenomena, all of it. And after years of reading, researching, and just… paying attention, I’ve come to one conclusion.

Erydan (leaning in slightly): I’m all ears.

Memphis: They’re real. Whatever they are, they exist. And it’s not just one group or species. There are many of them, and they’ve been with us all along. Watching, nudging, maybe even guiding us in small, deliberate ways.

Erydan (eyebrows raised): Always? How far back are we talking?

Memphis (nodding): Farther than most people realize. Look, we have documented accounts going back hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Think about Ezekiel’s wheel—an object described as “a wheel within a wheel,” glowing with fire and moving in ways that sound eerily similar to what modern pilots describe when they encounter UFOs. And it’s not just biblical accounts. Look at ancient cave art and pictographs.

Erydan: The ones with the strange figures?

Memphis: Exactly. Isolated cultures all over the world drew the same kind of thing—beings descending from the sky, objects that look like ships, or figures in what appear to be suits. These people had no way to communicate with each other, yet their stories align. That’s not coincidence.

Erydan: And it’s still happening now?

Memphis: Absolutely. We’re seeing the same phenomenon, but with modern eyes. Every day, new videos surface. Sure, some are hoaxes, but not all of them. The Pentagon’s recent declassified reports on unidentified aerial phenomena? Those are credible. And it’s not just conspiracy theorists saying this anymore—it’s military pilots, radar operators, and even government officials.

Erydan (thoughtful): So, what’s the big picture? Why are they here?

Memphis (pausing): That’s the question, isn’t it? My theory? They’ve been observing us for millennia, maybe even shaping us subtly. Think about the leaps humanity has made. Agriculture, writing, electricity, flight. Sure, we like to think we’re the geniuses behind it all, but what if we’ve had help? Little nudges, ideas planted in the right minds at the right times.

Erydan (grinning): So you’re saying aliens invented the lightbulb?

Memphis (laughing): Not exactly. I’m saying they may have sparked the inspiration. A whisper here, a vision there, just enough to keep us moving forward without overwhelming us.

Erydan: And you don’t find that unnerving?

Memphis (shaking his head): Not at all. If they wanted to harm us, they’ve had countless opportunities. They’ve been here this long without wiping us out or enslaving us. That tells me they’re not hostile. I don’t fear an attack by any of them. In fact, it’s comforting.

Erydan: Comforting how?

Memphis: It means we’re not alone. It means someone’s been watching out for us, even if they’re staying in the background. Look at all the UFO sightings around nuclear facilities. Those incidents suggest they’re keeping us from self-destructing. That’s not the behavior of an enemy.

Erydan (sipping his tea, thoughtful): So, to you, it’s not just a phenomenon—it’s a relationship.

Memphis: Exactly. This is a global phenomenon. It’s historical, it’s modern, and it’s consistent. The clear message to me is: We are not alone. We’ve never been alone.

Erydan: And what do you think they want?

Memphis (shrugging): Hard to say. Maybe they’re just curious, like scientists watching an experiment. Maybe they’re waiting for us to mature as a species. Or maybe—just maybe—they’re trying to guide us to a point where we can join them out there.

Erydan (leaning back): A hopeful thought.

Memphis: Hopeful, yeah. But it also comes with responsibility. If they’re watching us, if they’re rooting for us, then we’ve got to make sure we’re worth rooting for.

Erydan (raising his tea): To the watchers in the sky, then.

Memphis (clinking his coffee cup against Erydan’s): May we make them proud.

[verrerdises]

privacy | gyehyeon x reader

Summary || You frequently visit the Privacy Cafe near your college campus. You love the coffee and the atmosphere, but there's one problem... The guy at the register is breathtakingly beautiful and your legs turn to jelly when you see him. You've done your best to avoid him, but perhaps fate has other plans.

Word count || 1.9k

Oddly enough, he remembered when they first came in. It was shortly after the new semester began; it tended to get quite busy during that time. Yongseung had came to pay him a visit and briefly talked about his classes and professors. As he rambled, though, that's when he spotted them.

To everyone else, they were simply another customer of the cafe. They took a silent look around the place; the ends of their lips curled into a comforted smile. They then turned to chat with their friend as they got in line. Their eyes scanned the menu above before the two of them eventually made eye contact. He tried to give them a polite smile, but they were quick to pull away and awkwardly shuffled behind their friend. 

It actually became a sort of routine for them. The stranger would arrive then anxiously scan for him. If he was at the register, they would wait until someone else took over before scurrying over to place their order. Or sometimes they'd place their order online to avoid him altogether. He always found this behavior confusing. They had never shared a word, not even a syllable, to each other, so why the fear?

He initially tried not to let it bother him. After all, why should he care so much? It's not like he was curious about them or whatever... It's certainly also not because he found them to be awfully cute, especially when they turn red and duck their head. 

No, absolutely not.

A bit over a month had passed since their initial arrival. By this point, he had began to give up on learning the reason behind it all. His coworkers theorized that they may simply find him intimidating. "I mean, look at you," Hoyoung explained once, "you're a ridiculously handsome guy who keeps a neutral expression most of the time." Gyehyeon saw some truth behind his words, but surely that can't be it? 

He let out a long exhale through his nose as he recalled the conversation. Hoyoung was currently out of town for a wedding, making him work at the register. It was a slow day and they were approaching the last hour of the night. He heard the bell jingle and tiredly muttered out his greeting without glancing up. All he was thinking about was the nice platter of fruit and cheese waiting for him back at the apartment. 

Gyehyeon hid a yawn behind a hand and tiredly rubbed his eye. "How may I help y-" He paused mid-rub when the familiar stranger stood in front of him. "Oh," he offered a polite smile, "you're here later than usual. I was starting to wonder where you went..." 

The stranger rubbed their hands down their jacket before shoving them into their pockets. "Ha, that's... wait, you were wondering?" Their voice became quiet. Their ears began to burn red. It only made Gyehyeon's smile grow. "Mhm." he answered, "You usually come by in the afternoon. I'm assuming after your classes?"

"Oh! Okay, yeah, that's right." Their eyes kept averting their gaze. "I... was finishing up a project. I just turned it in, actually, so I came to get a little treat, y'know?"

He was mildly surprised at their slightly talkative nature. Or maybe it was stemming from their anxiety. He kept his smile. "That's a good idea. You deserve to treat yourself every once in a while." Fingers gently pressed on the screen in front of him as he placed their usual order. "Here, does everything look correct on your screen?"

They glanced down to theirs and blinked, eyes growing slightly in surprise. "Y...Yeah! Actually, that's... exactly what I was gonna order." They finally peer up at him, eyes locked. "How did you know?"

It was his ears' turn to burn red. He shyly turned his head away and rubbed his neck. "Well, you come here a lot, and it's part of my job... Is there... anything else?"

He thought he caught a brief smile from them. "Can you add one chocolate donut and one strawberry?" They add. He silently nodded and included the treats in the order. "Okay, you're all set. Um... what's your name?"

"(y/n). It's (y/n)." They lock eyes once again, but it only lasted for a few seconds before the two of them broke away and hid their blush. "I'll call you when your order's ready," Gyehyeon muttered. (y/n) gave them a shy smile then grabbed a seat nearby. He took the chance to turn away and take some deep breaths. It was hard to suppress the big grin that wanted to spread. Calm yourself, Gyehyeon... 

He decided to focus on preparing their order. But even then, his mind kept wandering. He stole a few glances towards (y/n); they were scrolling on their phone, but there was a subtle smile and blush on their face. It's so cute...

He felt relieved that they didn't seem to hate him. And they seemed so sweet. He still wondered why they never came to talk to him before. He hummed to himself then finished the order. "(y/n)?" he called out to them and placed it on the counter for pick up.

They came up to grab it, muttering a quiet "thank you". They began to return to their seat, and Gyehyeon noticed the time. "Oh, we're closing in about 10 minutes, just so you know." He quickly informed them. They paused in their steps and he watched them take a deep breath before turning on their heel. 

"Are you doing anything after this? I...I know it's late, but..." Their gaze slowly lowered to the ground. They shook their head frantically. "Y...Y'know what, never-mind. Forget I asked--"

"No, I'm not doing anything." Gyehyeon softly chuckled. "I will need a ride home though." He took a look around. "Although, I'm not sure about where we can go this late at night."

"I... was thinking the roof of the parking garage?" They anxiously tapped their foot. "Enjoy some late-night coffee and donuts."

He raised a curious brow. "Huh, I never would've thought of that. Yeah... that sounds just fine," his warm smile returned. "Don't let your coffee get too cold though." He nodded to their drink. 

"Oh! Right, thank you, I'll just... wait here then," They awkwardly returned to their seat and took a few sips of their drink. 

Gyehyeon let out another chuckle and turned their focus to their closing duties. Luckily, it didn't take long. He finally shut off a light and stepped out from behind the bar. (y/n) rose from their seat. "Ready?" they asked.

"Mhm, and..." he shook a small bag, "I grabbed us more donuts." 

That shy smile returned and they led the way outside. It was a bit awkward being in their car. After all, this is the first conversation they've shared, but he felt like he's learned so much about them from simply observing. He leaned his head back against the headrest, fighting back another yawn. It didn't help that (y/n) was playing gentle music on the radio.

"Oh, sorry, is my music putting you to sleep?" They turn it down some but stopped when he shook his head. "A little, but don't apologize. I like it. It's soothing." He had so many questions he wanted to ask them, but his exhaustion was starting to get the better of him.

He hadn't realized he fell asleep until he felt the car slow to a stop. He blinked then slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Did I fall asleep...?" he mumbled. 

"Yeah," they giggled softly. "Come on, some fresh air might wake you up." They exit the car and moved to open the trunk door, then climbing inside. He quietly followed suit and the two of them pulled out their donuts to now eat their late night snack. He... hadn't experienced this before. He's the type to stay at home once it got late. But he had to admit, this was serene in its own right. 

And he was fully comfortable in this silence. On the other hand, it looked as if (y/n) had something to say. He smiled gently at them, "Something on your mind?"

They nervously swallowed a piece of donut. "Well..." A sigh, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I ever acted weird around you. You're just so..." They began to lose their voice and ducked their head. His heart softened at the sight. "I'm so... what?" Yet, he felt the urge to tease. The heat slowly crawled up their neck. 

"... Pretty..." they whispered. "Like, ridiculously pretty. Ugh, I hope that didn't sound weird!" They take a nervous bite of the donut. He retained his smile and shook his head. "No, not weird at all. But thank you." He stared down at his own donut as he collected his thoughts. "... Actually, I thought you hated me for whatever reason."

They groaned in response. "See, that's the exact opposite of what I wanted. So, I'm really sorry-"

"It's okay," he tilted his head at them. "Really. I'm just glad we got it cleared up." He shifted closer to them, and he felt their fingers twitch as they made contact. "Does this mean you'll stop running away from me?" he asked softly.

The red reached their ears. "I'll... try."

"Hmph," he laughed lightly, "that's better than nothing." A yawn suddenly came out. "Ooh, sorry."

(y/n) seemed to want to use this as a chance to escape. "It is getting late." They quickly comment, "You looked like you had a long shift." 

He couldn't even argue and only gave a nod. He silently made his way back to the passenger seat, gave them his address, and promptly lulled himself to sleep.

When he awoke for the second time, they made it outside his apartment. He rubbed his eyes then grabbed his bag. "Mmm, thanks for driving me, (y/n). I'll... see you at the usual time on Monday?"

(y/n) gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah. Usual time. Good night, Gyehyeon."

The walk to his bed was a bit of a blur, honestly. All he remembered was unlocking the door then beelining it to the soft mattress. Not even a whisper of a dream occurred as he quickly fell asleep. 

When he awoke the next morning, he'll be honest, it felt like he was in a haze. As if last night was the dream. He shook his messy hair and groggily got up to get ready for the day. It didn't take him long to enter the kitchen, where he was pleasantly surprised to see Hoyoung. 

"Good morning," his friend chirped. "Well, afternoon, actually."

"Afternoon??" Gyehyeon furrowed his brow. His head whipped around to check the time. "I slept in until 2??"

"Yeah. I know you don't work weekends, so I let you sleep." He was finishing cooking up some lunch. "Oh, I was cleaning up a bit and was gonna throw this bag away, but there was a phone number on it. Dunno if it was important to you."

"A phone number??" Gyehyeon eyed the small bag on the counter. The same one he used for his donuts. He quietly picked it up and, sure enough, there was a number scribbled onto it. So, last night wasn't a dream after all...

"What, finally found out about that one strange customer of yours?" Hoyoung softly snorted. 

"Mhm," the other nodded. "They drove me home last night. Really nice..."

"Well?" Hoyoung rose a brow. "What're you waiting for? Give them a call, lover boy."

His face flushed at his comment. "It... It's not like that--"

"Okay... whatever you say!" He brushed past him to set up the table. Gyehyeon glanced down at the number again. For someone so shy, this was quite the bold move -

Next time, he'll think of something bolder. 

|| Part of the My House collection ||

[bates--boy]

@nezumivc103221

Nezumi halts with his lips slightly parted; both his eyebrows lift in a display of sincere surprise. Whatever he has wanted to say remains hung in his throat. Words unsaid like a cassette on pause, voice suspended mid-air. Slowly, he turns his face towards Peter and lets out a breath of the softest disbelief. His expression shifts into a somewhat neutral smile. "I'm fine; thank you for the offer, though," Nezumi says politely and amiably, unsure whether he should dub Peter's proposal to be a kind gesture or if he should be worried that he has come across as incompetent to his client. The life of a private investigator often requires the opposite to happen — Nezumi is the one who approaches strangers and represents his clients. It's his thing. He has handled nosy journalists, drunk patrons, entitled elite, ignorant police. He has had it all — or at least most, but he likes to think he can handle anything life throws at him. Nezumi doesn't remember the last time someone has offered to speak on his behalf — a guardian, a friend or a partner — he supposed that he doesn't exactly give the impression he ought to be cared for or that he cannot speak for himself, and he understands it. He has always been the independent one, the carer — and that is as it should be. That is who he wants to be. "I won't be long," Nezumi reassures; he turns to leave, but just before grabbing the doorhandle, he gives Peter a conniving look and attempts at a joke: "But if you hear me scream for help, feel free to rush to my rescue."

"Y'sure?" Peter asked, even as he was watching Nezumi leaving and, even more, was trying to hide the relief in his voice.

There was no nice way to put it: the case was a total bomb. And though Peter was sure that Nezumi was a fine investigator, thorough and top of the line (as far as Peter's knowledge of this type of work went), a man can only get his hopes up with false leads and dud information before he wants to call it quits, demand his money back, and let come what bloody, gorey, and torturous may. Peter still held that thought even when someone had rang him up and dangled just one more bit of hope in front of him: information.

Peter folded his arms on the desk and glanced past Nezumi to the door, the other side of which the informant was presumably still waiting. The guy looked every bit the devil-worshipping metalhead every blue-blooded Christian and his suburban housewife feared during the Satanic Panic, from how the guy was nothing but a block of muscle, to the runic tattoos all over his arms and one side of his face, to every face piercing imaginable. Peter knew he sounded very much like one of the pearl-clutching surburban Christians, but that guy was setting off a few alarms in Peter. Which was exactly why Peter knew that it was better if he, himself went back out there: Nezumi could extract the right information, sure, but if shit went south and the metalhead informant went on a slaughtering spree, Peter could resurrect.

Since Peter knew that carnage was possible, he really wished he hadn't picked his theatre to meet up. He knew he should stop imagining every which wrong way this meeting could turn, at least one of them had to take this seriously, because... was that a joke? Peter raised his eyebrows; dang, he didn't know Nezumi was capable of such a thing! He tried not to smile, himself, lifting a hand to rest his chin in his. "Ha ha, sure thing, buddy," he snarked. "Although, I think you look a little too gymratty to be a damsel in distress."

[what-fandom-again]

Ticci Toby headcanons because why not

-Likes rock/metal music probably. His favorite band is Falling in Reverse

-can play electric guitar and usually riffs the solo to "I'm not a vampire" to annoy everyone else

-Likes M&M's, especially the peanut ones

-candy aside, he prefers caramel over chocolate just in general

-his fear factor is kinda fucked up, mostly from seeing and being through so much weird shit but also because of mental illness or whatever

-his only true fear is losing people that are close to him again

-if y/n exists he definitely is protective over them even if they're not dating

-speaking of not dating, he would also see Y/N as a sibling which would only fuel his protectiveness because he's already lost his sister

- some fanon depictions of Toby give me sassy gay vibes so that too

-this has already been mentioned probably but because he doesn't feel pain he tends to be more reckless than others and doesn't see injuries as a big deal. This man could sprain his ankle and keep walking until it gives out under him

- same with his fear factor, he does stupid shit and isn't afraid of the consequences because fear is mostly non-existent In him (note that there may be some exceptions to this)

-Whenever he's angry, he usually locks himself in his room and throws axes at his wall. If he isn't in the mansion, he'll isolate himself or go kill people

-probably doesn't care too much about his hygiene and does the bare minimum to keep himself clean. It's not like he dislikes baths or anything, he just doesn't see the point sometimes

- he does wash off if he's absolutely covered in filth though, he does that much

- but yeah he goes between not caring about being slightly dirty to absolutely fucking caring because of his Bi polar

-surprisingly a good listener, but not so great at talking

-heavy sleeper and likes to sleep in late

-his hair is usually silky soft

-Jeff probably jokes about him being "The chosen one" because Toby doesn't feel it when he steps in a Lego or stubs his toe, the greatest pains of man

-i don't know why but I imagine him to be at least like 6'3 so yeah ig kinda tall

-Probably good with kids and babysits Sally sometimes

-When he's "normal", he's actually rather laid back and chill. It isn't common to see him like that though

-likes it when people play with his hair

-probably doesn't care too much when it comes to being touched for the most part, but it kinda depends on his mood swings and such. You also probably shouldn't go down south

-Still sleeper. He falls asleep in a position and stays like that. People sometimes check if he's dead because of this

-sometimes falls asleep while leaning against the wall

-sometimes forgets to do basic human stuff like eat, blink, sleep, or breathe

-Tics aside, he can't stay perfectly still, he usually moves in one way or another like tapping his foot

-likes weird food combinations like fires in milkshakes or whatever

-not really a picky eater

-if he stutters too much while trying to speak, he'll usually just give up mid sentence

[doctorstrangereview]

0012: Strange Tales #122

Cover Date: July 1964 On-Sale Date: April 9, 1964

It's Doc's one-year anniversary since first appearing in Strange Tales #110! I've got only 60 more years of stories to review! He gets about a third of the front cover, but it's just the hands on hips pose that Mordo put him in at the wax museum. And the colors of his tunic and tights seem a bit off. As it's a year I suppose it's fitting that Doc's original foe, Nightmare, returns.

Doc returns to his Sanctum Sanctorum completely exhausted. He's fresh off battles with Mordo who kept him out of his body until it was seconds from dissolution and rescuing the Fantastic Four from Namor by moving a palace that weights thousands of tons under the pressure of thousands of feet of water an unknown number of miles. The energy required for this feet must have been astronomical. And since it's his anniversary, we think he may have partied just a bit too hard.

Doc enters his study, sits in yet another cool and funky chair, and pretty much passes out on top of a big old book. He wakes up to a mysterious, grey-robed figure standing in front of him. We know Doc isn't yet too keen on security yet, so his presence doesn't seem to be a huge surprise, but he's not really concerned at first. First he tries a spell, but that doesn't work. Then he tries his All-Purpose Amulet, but that doesn't work. Next, he tries to change to his ectoplasmic form, but that doesn't work. (It's depicted as his ghost form trying to separate from his body, but is being blocked rather than the ability being stripped from him.) Finally, with his bag of tricks exhausted, Doc physically attacks the silent figure, and guess what? That doesn't work. Doc goes right through the figure and we get a close up of his face. It's a mask that Jason Voorhees would have chosen if he wanted to look slightly less intimidating. Ditko giving it a slight smirk is brilliant!

"WTF?" thinks Doc. "Ah! I'm not really awake. My ancient foe wearing the green netting outfit with pointy shoulders got me!" The room melts away and the formerly silent figure finally speaks and traps Doc in a bubble attached to a rod the figure holds. He spins Doc around like a cowboy and his lasso.

"Blah, blah, blah. Your fate is sealed. Away you go!" And Doc in his bubble travels through multiple panels of Ditko fantastique. Doc reveals that he was so tired he forgot to cast his protective sleep spell before passing out. He really needs to ease up on those Wild Turkey shots. He stops in front of Nightmare on his weird, organic looking throne thing that was first seen in Strange Tales #116. Does Ditko have some weird fetish for exotic seating?

Nightmare proceeds to threaten Doc with a number of tortures. First his shrinks Doc so he fits in the palm of Nightmare's hand. Next, Doc is turned to stone. Then Nightmare threatens to banish Doc to the world of nothingness represented by a vault-like door floating in mid-air (or whatever makes up the atmosphere in the dream dimension). Lastly, he opens a pit underneath Doc and says he'd fall forever. But Nightmare isn't ready to inflict any of these punishments yet. He puts Strange in chains. They're sort of cool looking ones that you'd expect to see in locking up the big seven in Bruce Timm's Justice League cartoon.

Doc's had enough. It seems he's been cooking up something while Nightmare's been blabbing about all these cruel and unusual things he intends to subject Doc to with even the courtesy of a safe word. "Turn around, dude in the fishnet body-stocking with pointy shoulders!" Nightmare turns around and sees his ancient enemy, the Gulgol rising from what may be some sort of portal. Nightmare fears this beast because, like New York City, he never sleeps! I have to admit, the Gulgol is adorable!

The mad, baby eyes, the angry looking smile and green diaper are just so cute! Nightmare attempts all sorts of spells to stop the enfant terrible, but all fail. Doc tells him that he summoned the adorable orange guy and can send him back if Nightmare returns his powers. Doc is so clever! Nightmare immediately complies, Doc snaps his fingers and Gulgol vanishes. Now it's Nightmares turn to go "WTF?"

Doc says "Hey green dud, I hypnotized you! I didn't require magic." but uses a lot more words. He uses the now working All-Purpose Amulet to hold off Nightmare and escape while Nightmare shakes his fist while shouting a wordier version of "I'll get you yet!"

Returning to the walking world and brushing off the dust from the ancient scrolls and tomes he slept on top of, he looks out his big round window and says "I will protect the city from strange forces beyond the border of man's imagination" to no one in particular.

Lazy Ditko doesn't even draw the big window properly.

I always like a Nightmare story. Dreams and nightmares mean anything is possible and all the rules can be broken. This has a promising start but fizzles a bit as it proceeds. Ditko seems to get lazy as the story proceeds, mostly using negative space to portray Nightmare's domain. It's disappointing, especially leaving out the big round window's Vishanti symbol. We do get a sense of Doc's tactical intelligence. Stripped of his powers, he still figures a way to pull victory from the jaws of certain defeat. We see the ultimate expression of this in General Strange, but it will be quite a while before I get around to writing that up. Overall, the concept was good, but the execution was half-assed.

[thegreatimpersonator]

hi, it's crush anon! thank you for your response, i appreciate it :)

in response to the anon who suggested limiting contact, i've definitely tried! we see each other at most for two hours a day and i rarely directly talk to him even when we're in close proximity. i kinda go silent and talk with my other friends. the thing is it doesn't seem to work😭

normally when we talk our interactions are limited to hello's. he's actually tried to get me to open up more and be actual friends with him but that makes me really sad and slightly uncomfortable because i, unfortunately, wear my heart on my sleeve and i fear that he'll realize i like him (i already suspect he has an inkling which is insanely mortifying but that's a whole different thing), so i kinda brush him off and keep it brief.

the last time i spoke to him was a little more than a week ago. none of our other close friends were at practice that day so i was colossally bored and accidentally spoke to him in response to a story he told. he seemed really surprised that i was talking and then much to my displeasure KEPT TALKING TO ME. i tried to brush him off and was a little brusque with him once and even though i felt like a real bitch he kinda backed off which was what i wanted. but THEN a little later he was like. "why don't we be friends? i'd really love to be friends" SO NICELY AND KINDLY and HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY NO TO THAT????? because i, unfortunately, both don't *want* to say no because i do really like talking to him (wHICH IS THE PROBLEM) but also if i say no then it'll open up the whole thing of why i don't want to be friends at well that won't do either, you see? so i was like "..ok" and he kept happily talking to me for the rest of practice. anyway that left me absolutely DUMBFOUNDED because what do you mean he actually likes my presence???? what do you mean. this isn't good. it would be easier if he hated my guts.

ANYWAY. so sorry, i got a little side-tracked there. i just really needed to get that off my chest lmao. but the point of all that is that that interaction is probably the most we've talked since we used to be friends. we RARELY talk directly and somehow i have super intense feelings for him. i don't know, it sounds so silly!! how do i like someone that i don't even talk to????

and here's another thing!!! every year for the past four years he leaves from early february to mid may to do a school thing instead. so that ^^^ interaction happened on the last day i'll get to see/talk to him until may. i HOPE TO GOD that the feelings will go away, but seeing as they haven't the last two years in which he has also done this, i'm not holding out hope.

i'm definitely going to try to get over him! do whatever it takes. and if i don't now, well, he's leaving in august and i probably won't ever see him in a capacity where we share more than pleasantries again, so !!!! here's to hoping!!

and to the advice about hating him! i'm going to TRY and use that, but he's such a good person that i don't think i'll be able to trick my brain into believing it. AND ALSO. i was CURSED with the absolute inability to get the ick. the amount of times i sHOULD HAVE gotten the ick from this man?????? the amount of times he has jokingly talked in a baby voice in a way that would normally be positively REPULSING but apparently NOT TO ME is insane????? genuinely who cursed me.

anyway, thank you SO MUCH for listening and responding to me! you have no idea how much it means to me. i've kept all of this locked up for years now and it genuinely has been eating me alive. it feels so good to get it out there to somebody. so thank you!!!! ily <3

sorry i got very carried away with this ask. if anyone has ideas on how to get past this i will try ANYTHING, but i honestly think i've just gotta wait it out at this point.

and very last thing! apologies for all the grammatical and syntax errors. i'm so sorry if this didn't make sense, i typed all of this out in a harried frenzy istg

oof the forced proximity must be a nightmare, definitely doesn’t help the situation. definitely just try and be annoyed by everything, that’s honestly the only thing i can think of that might help. and no problem! i can only imagine how hard it must be because you can’t really talk to anyone about it. hopefully you trick your brain into being annoyed lol. ❤️❤️