#i like to try and pick apart different instruments and beats when i listen to music so its fascinating how much goes into it

[puppyeared]

:D

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: an extended version of percy and annabeth's dance at the end of the titan's curse word count: 1475 words a/n: to celebrate me finally reading through the pjo series, i wrote a little expansion on one of my favorite scenes. percy being told by a literal goddess to stay away from her daughter then immediately asking that daughter to dance in the streets of olympus with him is my roman empire. shoutout to my darling @laughingphoenixleader for getting me into this fandom and betaing this fic taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @jedi-nurse {if you'd like to be added to my percabeth/pjo taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

Could've Lived This Dance Forever

I couldn't tell you what song was playing. If I'd even tried to listen to the words or the melody, it wouldn't've made a difference. I might've picked out a saxophone or something like that, but for all I know about instruments, it may as well have been a kazoo.

I had better things to pay attention to anyways, There was the smile Annabeth was trying so hard to hide. There was the sparkle in her eyes that I could've sworn wasn't there before I'd asked her to dance.

There was also the way that the pit of my stomach felt jumbled up and twisted in knots almost as much as my tied-up-tongue. I was thankful Annabeth was always telling me to shut up, because it gave me a little more confidence that my loss for words hadn't messed this moment up yet.

I closed my eyes for just a moment, losing myself in the music and the dance and just the feeling of her hand in mine, and my hand on her side.

Usually, if something even close to being like this happened, it was because she was pulling me back from something that would've gotten me killed if not for her, or I was pulling her back from something she hadn't realized yet we couldn't beat, or we were running from monsters and trying to keep from being separated.

But this time, all of that was different. There was nothing chasing us. We weren't in any danger, at least, nothing that presented an immediate cause for alarm. We were safe. As we danced in the streets of Olympus, all thoughts about battles and prophecies and monsters and quests and fates flitted away.

I even started to forget about the conversation I'd just had with her mother— her godly mom, Athena— though of course, now that I was thinking about the fact that I forgot about it, I remembered it again.

"I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter. I do not think it is wise for either of you."

It was a good thing that, with all due respect, I didn't give a rip about what most of the pantheon thought.

I opened my eyes, and saw Annabeth glance away from me, as though she hadn't wanted me to notice how she'd been studying and analyzing me when I wasn't looking. I had no idea what she'd surmised from the smile on my face and my simple footsteps that kept me from stepping on her toes, but she had her mother's insight, and could probably tell a lot more than I thought I was letting on.

I glanced over her shoulder, and saw Poseidon, who for a second almost seemed to be giving me a thumbs up, though we turned too quickly for me to notice.

My gaze then caught Aphrodite's, and as she nodded with a subtle smile, I remembered the words she'd said to me back in the car in the desert, something about Annabeth and I, and "true love." I'd heard about true love in some Disney movies, but those were just fairytales to me.

Of course, furies and demigods and cyclops and minotaur were nothing more than fairytales to me a few years ago, and now they were all I seemed to know anymore, so maybe this "true love" stuff wasn't so far fetched either.

Now, I didn't even know if I loved Annabeth— not like that, anyways. I wouldn't've even told my friends that I "like-like" her, or had a crush or anything like that. But I knew that I liked having her in my life, and that I wouldn't like it very much if she wasn't in my life anymore. I knew that I liked it more than I should when she picked apart my bad ideas and called me Seaweed Brain. I knew that I'd do everything in my power to save her, no matter what life threw at me, that I'd do anything I could to protect her. Don't ask me how I knew, I just did, just like I knew that, as much as we found ourselves fighting a lot, I'd give up anything for her.

And I knew I didn't want this moment to end, to hold her and watch her face shine as she danced as graceful and free and lovely as any dryad or goddess or nymph in all of Olympus.

And if that's what true love is, then I didn't want to settle for anything less

🧡•🖤•🧡

I wondered if Percy noticed the others watching us like I did. Not just here on Olympus, but back at Camp Half Blood, and at Westover Hall, and on some of our quests too, and even in the gleam in his mother's eye when she'd met me.

At least his mother was easy to please.

I didn't need Percy to tell me what he and Athena had talked about. Her harsh words and steel glances in the council had told me more than enough— she wasn't too big on me hanging out with Poseidon's son, and if Poseidon's son had been anyone other than Percy, I would've had no problem with avoiding him.

That's why I was so surprised when Percy asked me to dance. A week ago, he had been hard-pressed to dance with me as a simple part of an undercover mission. Now, even in the presence of a god who'd told him to steer clear of me, he willingly asked me to dance? Either Percy was really brave, really stupid, or too impertinent for his own good, but I couldn't help but oblige.

Something had changed in him over the last week, that much I knew. A dance is a lot like a battle, and this opponent's strategy had changed. He seemed to know what he was doing, to care what he was doing, and either his past quest had enrolled him in a dance academy, or maybe he'd gained some confidence these past few days.

Then again, maybe that was just the feeling of the weight of the sky being lifted off your shoulders, and the freedom and weightlessness that came with it.

Whatever had happened to him though, it was working. I found myself enjoying myself a little more this time.

However, I was also painfully aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes on us, each having their own opinion on us. Did some think I could do better than share a dance with this seaweed brained half-blood who was never meant to exist? Did they notice the flash of red along my cheek as Percy smiled at me? The most important beings in all of Olympus were watching me, and I…

Percy's eyes met mine in a way that made me feel a lot more stupid than I liked to feel. He was like that, really, never very clever and making me wonder sometimes why cleverness even mattered so much to me.

He never cared much for other's opinions either, or, at least, not that he let on. But if he did, he wouldn't've minded my opinion of him at that moment. He wasn't half bad when he kept his stupid mouth shut.

But, leave it to Percy Jackson to risk ruining a perfectly good moment by running his mouth.

"I, uh," he smiled, then swallowed, clearly nervous, "I wouldn't've made it this far without you, Annabeth."

I wasn't sure what the music playing sounded like to him, but whatever song it was must've been similar enough to what I heard that it felt a natural part of the dance when he spun me out— an opportunity I relished so he wouldn't see my smile at his compliment.

I wondered if he noticed, when he pulled me back towards himself, that he pulled me a little closer to him than I had been. He must've, or he would've been stepping on my toes a lot more.

My eyes met his again. If everyone on Olympus had been watching us, they certainly were now, filling in the blanks on the wordless messages passed between our eyes.

I wonder if he knew how his smile jumbled my thoughts in the only way that I didn't seem to mind. He must've, or he wouldn't've been smiling at me so much.

"Don't get all mushy on me now, Seaweed Brain," I said.

I wonder if he understood all the things I meant when I said that, that even when I insulted him, I couldn't stay mad at him, that I only pushed him away because he always came back when I did.

He must've, or he wouldn't've rolled his eyes with delight when I said it, and he certainly wouldn't've pulled me just a little closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he whispered, "I wouldn't dream of it."

[shigarakisbabyy]

Music- Denki Kaminari x Male/ Ftm Reader

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Denki these past couple of days and I’m not sure why. Y/N can be read as male or FtM, but if ftm then post top surgery. In this fic Denki is college aged and plays the guitar!!

Warnings: fear of danger??

Content: Quirkless Reader, very flirty and sappy denki (actually, this whole thing is sappy), long term relationship,

You walked quickly down the dark streets, the keys in between your fingers gripped so tightly they left indents in your fingers. You quickly passed each block, racing to get back to your apartment as quickly as possible. Being quirkless and on a secluded street at night where heroes rarely patrolled was not a good mix. You just wanted to get home to your boyfriend and change out of your work clothes as soon as possible.

You turned a corner, now on the street you lived on. As you drew nearer and nearer to your apartment, you heard the soft melody and chords of a guitar floating through the breeze and resting beautifully in your ears. As you walked closer to you apartment the volume of the guitar increased, and you began to hear every note and strum of the strings.

You recognized the sound, of course you did. It was the song your boyfriend had written for you when he was trying to serenade you in highschool. You had gone to two different schools, but that didn’t stop him from rushing to meet you at your bus stop every day and making you listen to his beautiful sound. He came up with lyrics too, eventually.

You were across the street from your apartment now turning to cross the street and looking around to see where your boyfriend was playing, but you looked up and saw him sitting on your guys’ terrace with his prized guitar in his lap.

“Denki?” You called out, smiling, “What are you doing up so late?”

“I was waiting for you to come home!” He laughed, setting his guitar down and gripping the railing of the terrace as he leaned over, “I can’t sleep when I don’t know where you are.”

You blushed and giggled, just like you did when he had just started flirting with you so many years ago. The streetlights highlighted the sides of his face as shined off his hair, illuminating his eyes and helping you see the look of admiration and love he always held when he gazed at you.

“Well please, don’t stop playing just because I’m here now Mr. Musician!” You teased.

“Ahh, you know you love my guitar and my songs, babe. Don’t deny it,” He teased back.

“Of course I love your stupid guitar…” You muttered, swaying slightly when he started to play again.

Denki picked up your song right from the beginning, playing the soft melody gently at first and gradually increasing the vigor. You closed your eyes and swayed to the beat, letting the music fill your ears and cloud your mind until the only thing you focused on was the next note.

You opened your eyes wide in shock when he began to sing the lyrics too, something he rarely did. “I play music, I don’t sing it,” is what he always had said when you begged him to sing for you.

You stared up at Denki, the way his fingers gripped the guitar and skillfully moved along the frets and strummed the strings, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each new word and the way his eyes screwed shut so he could focus.

His voice was deep, but not too deep. Raspy, but not too raspy. Melancholic, but not too melancholic. It was the perfect mix of all the things you loved, blended together into one perfect melody.

You quickly raced to the entrance of your building, tearing open the door and scrambling up the stairs. You quickly jiggled your keys in the lock and slammed the door open, kicking it shut behind you with your foot while you ran to the terrace.

“You’re singing!” You exclaimed.

Denki jumped, not expecting you to be right beside him when you had just been on the street moments before.

“I figured I’d treat you tonight my prince,” He giggled, setting his hands back on the instrument and strumming again.

You sat next to Denki on the floor of the terrace, setting your head down on him and shutting your eyes. He rested his head on top of yours, letting you feel just how much he was smiling when his cheeks touched the top of your head.

You hummed along to the words and the notes, having already recited the entire song to memory ages ago. You knew it like the back of your hand, just like you knew Denki.

He finished the song with another melancholic note, stretching out the final word and letting it ring through the air as the sound waves disappeared. He propped the guitar up against the railing and wrapped his arm around your waist.

You sat there resting on each other for a few moments, enjoying the others presence.

“You should sing more often,” You murmured.

“I might, I’ve been thinking about it,” Denki admitted, “I just get too excited whenever I do.”

“Excited?” You asked.

He chuckled, sheepishly smiling and leaning away from you to rub the back of his neck, “Everytime I sing I remember how excited and nervous I was when I first sang for you, and now I think about it and my voice gets all cracky and pitchy cause I can’t stop giggling and smiling.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and your heart swelled. You quickly grabbed the side of Denki’s face and plastered a kiss to his cheek, planting many more all over his face before you finally gave him one on the lips.

He smiled, a harsh dusting of red coating his face and the tips of his ears. If this was an anime, he’d have a nosebleed and a squiggly mouth topped off with completely blank eyes.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You whispered, kissing him again.

“It doesn’t hurt to tell me again,” Denki joked.

“No, it doesn’t,” You agreed, kissing the tip of his nose.

Denki smiled, and reached around to hold you in his arms and reposition you so you were sitting in front of him with his legs wrapped around your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder and sighing in contentment.

“You tired Denks?” You asked, reaching up to ruffle and play with his hair.

“Mhm…” He hummed.

“Come on, I’ll take you to bed,” You offered. You stood up and scooped him up in your arms. For being in a career where copious amounts of muscle mass was pretty much required, he was pretty light weight.

He gently layer him down on the soft bed and walked back out to grab his guitar, setting it on the wall stand he had bought for it. You shut and locked the terrace door, and stripped of your clothes until you were only in boxers. Your garments lay discarded on the floor as you quickly laid down next to Denki and threw the blanket over top of you both.

He was quick to get you to be the little spoon, one hand resting under your head while the other wrapped around your waist and held you hand as you held it to your chest.

He leaned back and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, whispering the words, “Goodnight my beautiful boy.”

“Goodnight Denki,” You muttered, your eyes so droopy and tired you couldn’t keep them open, “I love you.”

“I love you too darling,” He muttered back.

[thevirgodoll]

hi! i was wondering if you have any tips to stay organized and stay on task? i’ve been doing a short online course this year and have really struggled to ACTUALLY bring myself to do the work, as assignments and lessons are not under any time constraints i just don’t do it. i also have adhd so get bored or distracted easily. do you have any tips for me?

This is really close to me because I also have ADHD. I have both inattentive and hyperactive type. *As a result, this academic tip guide will be a guide for people with ADHD and not neurotypical people, without disability. There is a difference.*

I am doing online as well this semester.

1. I create a schedule. If I do not create a schedule, I will be unproductive the entire day. So, what will help you is to do things in orderly fashion.

For example, at 12p - I will do this assignment/watch this lecture. You have to dictate what time you’re doing everything. Then, you also have to block out technology distractions while you are working. 

-> Even if you’ve gotten halfway through the day with no schedule, write down or block off times on your digital calendar for what you are going to do at each time. ADHD is easier to tackle if you break things down into smaller tasks.

*Pro tip that I almost forgot: before you do anything, wear your day clothes. Don’t wear pajamas. Actually getting dressed or even doing hair/makeup changes things.

2. Download the Forest app after you have created your schedule. I consistently recommend this because it works in increasing productivity. It allows you to set it for however long you’re doing this task, say 30 minutes.

-> Why?: It will block all apps on your phone for (insert time here) to plant a tree, and if you leave the app your “tree” will die. Eventually, the more sessions you do, the more points you will gain to plant different plants, and eventually plant real trees around the world.

3. Have a list (& a planner) as well. Not only is the schedule creating structure, but the list creates even more structure so you know what you need to get done for the day. It also helps you not fall victim to the classic symptom of forgetting. Each day, you should write down what you WANT to get done and create your own times to look at lecture and assignments. Have goals for the day.

For example: complete assignment 2.

If you do not have expectations with yourself before the day begins, your ADHD will kind of take over and do something else. I have structure to my day. I set a timer to wake up at the same time. I take my ADHD medicine 90 minutes before my final wake up time, and I do my morning routine once it kicks in. Having the same routine helps.

-> Focus on your goals. Don’t be super harsh about the times.

-> Don’t overwhelm with how many things on to do list. Again, break it up into small tasks. For example, one part being: Wash dishes or fold laundry. It makes it less overwhelming to your brain and gives you a choice of which task. Typical non ADHD people just tell you to prioritize tasks but that doesn’t work for us. Do it in a random order and it gets the job done.

4. TAKE BREAKS! The other side to this is making sure that you give yourself adequate breaks.

*For hyperfocus, wait til your hyperfocus has started to wear off. Use it to your advantage for peak productivity. It is no joke.*

-> The misconception is that some people with ADHD are lazy and as a result, some ADHDers won’t take breaks. You can take a break. Healthy, long breaks do more for you long term.

-> Have a timer set. For example, after a 45 minute session or an hour session, I will take a break to do another task that has nothing to do with studying, like laundry, eating a snack, or stretching. Then after that task is done, I will go back to studying.

5. Have a workspace. Only do work at this space. I do schoolwork at my living room table and it is perfect. I do not study in my room because that is my sanctuary for relaxation and rest, not productivity. Make an effort to make the workspace clean, with your supplies - laptop, notebooks, pens, etc - readily available.

-> Once I get to my workspace, everything for the morning is already done. I’ve done my morning routine, so all there is left to do is hydrate while I study.

6. Recognize if you have adequate energy to do the task. Sometimes, with ADHD you may neglect your needs. If you are not getting enough rest, here are some tips:

•Bed should be for rest only.

•Blackout curtains

•Lavender essential oil, I have a diffuser but you can also put it on your pillow

•Background noise: pick what you want, lo fi music, rain sounds, binaural beats, singing bowls

•If all else fails, ADHD is often comorbid with other illnesses, meaning you could have a form of depression causing insomnia for example. This should be considered if you are having long term issues and symptoms.

7. Don’t overdo it. We are not neurotypical. Executive dysfunction is real - meaning our brains actually shut down when it perceives a task to be mundane.

-> You do not have to fit everything into one schedule for the sake of being “productive”. Each day should be what you know you can do, and there are different days to tackle different goals.

-> When you feel like you cannot continue, which is literally a symptom of ADHD, sit still for a few minutes.

8. Have a “What I Did Today” List. Because of how ADHD actually makes us feel, we don’t realize how much work we have put in. ADHD actually can be explained easily, we have about 2 dopamine workers showing up to work while most people are at maximum capacity. We are working overtime to do our best, even on medicine. So, acknowledging what we did today is good and encouraging, or at least reflecting in a journal.

9. Play music. It’s recommended to play study music without words because with ADHD we will submerge ourselves into the playlist of nostalgic 90s R&B. I recommend lo fi hip hop on YouTube, video game instrumentals, classical music, or jazz instrumentals. Whatever gets you going just do it!

General ADHD tips:

•Rewrite lecture notes and type the lecture notes.

•Color code with bright colors and pretty drawings or calligraphy

•Instead of telling yourself “I need to take notes” which usually leads to procrastination say “Rewrite lecture notes and emphasize main points” ... this is useful in your to do list but in everyday goals

•Generally try to get your assignments done ahead of time if there is structure to certain courses, if not, again, stick to the schedule. If you slip one day off your schedule then don’t beat yourself up. Breathe!!!

•Side effect of most ADHD meds is that you’re not hungry so buy easy things to eat like muscle milk or yogurt and granola or smoothies so you can sustain yourself

•Get a dry erase board to show what you need to do for the day and put it on the fridge with command strips

•To avoid forgetting things, put them at a table near the door where you leave your apartment/dorm/house.

•Don’t overthink the time it takes to get ready, often that’s why ADHDers are late. Better to be super early than late though - have a routine set so you know how long each task takes - for example “I know a shower takes me 15 mins, washing my face takes 60 seconds and a few more including sunscreen/moisturizer, etc...”

•In that same grain, set timers for going to the bathroom, showering, etc just in case you one day hyperfocus and push yourself too far

•Open the blinds!!!!

•Clean your room and tidy up your space. A cluttered space impacts your mental health in a really negative way. Your space reflects your mental state at times as well, so check in with yourself. Have a specific day where you know you’re going to clean, but ADHD sometimes gives us bursts of cleaning so take advantage of that as well.

•Anytime your water bottle empties refill it. Have your water bottle or mason jar next to your workspace, and drink 5-10 gulps. Seriously. ADHD depends a lot on hydration, especially if you are on medicine which naturally dehydrates you. If you do not stay hydrated, you’ll get that massive headache mid day and crash sooner. A lot of times, lack of productivity can be due to not drinking enough water.

•If you don’t take medication, then sometimes you may notice you love coffee, and that’s because it’s a stimulant. Too much of anything is not good, but balance it with water. If you’re going to use coffee to kinda “medicate” then do it close to when you’re going to be productive.

•Setting yourself up to do a task rather than envisioning the overwhelming act of doing the entire action. “Okay, lets just get up and get the first step down, such as opening the laptop or wetting the toothbrush.” Baby steps.

•Take advantage of accommodations! Your college more than likely has an Office of Disability Services. Also, email your professors...they’re actually just as stressed as you about classes being online.

•Remember that you’re already trying as hard as you can, so don’t listen to the narrative of “try harder”, “you’re *r word*”, “you’re cheating by using medication”, “just do it,” “it’s easy,” “what’s so hard about it?” or “you’re lazy”. Anyone telling you that, even yourself, is wrong. And DO NOT allow anyone to be ableist, even yourself.

•Validate yourself. Don’t let anyone to do the “I experience that too”/“I know what you mean”/“we ALL have trouble with this!” and they don’t have ADHD. No. It’s our experience, it’s valid, and unlike anything on the planet. If you’re reading this and you don’t have ADHD - no, you do not experience any of the things in my next bullet point.

•Don’t be hard on yourself if you stumble along the way getting this right. ADHD completely changes your executive functioning.

We see the task, but our brain blocks it.

We have something marked down as “important” but our brain tosses it out in the “trash”.

We watch an entire episode of a show, but our brain ignored the entire thing. Our brain picks and chooses what is stimulating, our brain changes our interests.

We have sensory overload, we have no dopamine, we have bursts of curiosity that cannot be contained (often inconvenient) and if interrupted, our brains cannot take it.

People often discount how many things ADHD actually changes because it’s widely misunderstood. I want to take the time to acknowledge that ADHD, formerly known as simply ADD, has different types: primarily inattentive, primarily hyperactive-impulsive, or combined which is what I have. So it’s not “hyper” and “relatable”. It is also not a buzzword to use to describe things. I must put stereotypes and misrepresentations of ADHD to rest.

It impacts us emotionally as well, which most people don’t know... such as rejection dysphoria — extreme sensitivity to being criticized to where our brains self destruct. Our brains don’t regulate emotions well.

ADHDers - do not fall victim to how everyone else operates and call yourself a failure. We have to work twice as hard and the results actually come out brilliant especially with our determination and imaginative ideas that are also seen in autistic individuals, honorable mention!

There’s good days and bad days. There’s literal changes in thinking that other people do not experience. We all collectively know wouldn’t be who we are without ADHD, but we all recognize the challenges. However, it makes me happy to see messages like this so that I can make a difference and hopefully help one person with ADHD, especially of color, at a time stop being so hard on themselves. 💗

[youarejesting]

Mania.8

[MASTER LIST] [Mania Master list]

Rating: Mature 18+ Pairing: BTS OT7 Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Omegaverse Words: 1.4k Blood types: Namjoon, Jhope, Jungkook, Yoongi (A) Taehyung (AB) Jin, Jimin and Yoongi (O) (Jimin in real life is an A blood type)

Summary: At eighteen everyone takes a blood test to find out their blood types. A, B, or O. Each blood type represents the person’s secondary gender Alpha, Beta or Omega and can be Dominant (+) or Recessive (-).

When small thin Yoongi receives his letter he doesn’t expect A+. There was no way he was an Alpha especially not a dominant. But as time passes he shows no Alpha nor Omega tendencies and frankly he doesn’t care. Working in his father’s electrical business helps pay the bills but Yoongi’s real passion is music.

One very hot day in the roof space of a luxury apartment that Yoongi is rewiring an intoxicatingly pleasant smell churns his insides and he finds himself in need of something to quench his thirst.

[First] [Prev] [Mania] [Next]

Yoongi was unsure how he felt about the affection he received from the other omegas. He didn’t exactly have time to refuse their advances before he was soaking in a huge bathtub with the other two. It was nice to have company and someone to talk to. The two omegas were quick to offer him something to drink and helped wash his hair with gentle hands.

It had been almost twenty years since Yoongi had had a bubble bath and he had to admit it was a lot more fun than a normal bath. The bubbles were so soft and foamy they smelt like lavender and it was making his eyes heavy. 

Kim Seokjin gave a soft chuckle pulling Yoongi’s back against his chest and letting him rest his head on his shoulder. Yoongi was ready to leave the bath, he was starting to feel old with the wrinkles appearing on his fingertips like a prune.

Stepping out first Jimin wrapped himself in a robe, Yoongi thought he would leave but was surprised when he grabbed another robe and held it out. Yoongi went to get up to let Jin exit but when he moved Jimin’s hands followed him with the soft robe.

Yoongi looked back at Seokjin and saw him pulling on another robe and smiling, “You don’t like the robe Hyung?”

“Sorry, I thought you were offering Jin Hyung the robe.” Yoongi lowered his head and obediently put his hands into the sleeves. “Thanks, Jiminie.”

Jimin under all the spoiled and bratty tendencies was such a sweet charming boy who cared a lot about others and Yoongi was happy to get to know this side of him. That he had given the younger boy a chance to open up to him and show his true colors. Or, maybe it was Jimin who took the time to let Yoongi relax and open up with him.

“Do you want to go for a nap, we are going to cuddle in the lounge and watch a movie, you can join us if you want?” Jimin asked, looking hopeful. Yoongi almost gave in not wanting to disappoint the young omega. Maybe this is what they meant by omega’s nurturing other omegas.

Yoongi patted the younger boy's wet hair and smiled softly, “I have some work to do, I was wondering if I could borrow someone’s laptop or computer or something?”

“Of course, Jungkook has one you can use,” Jimin took Yoongi’s hand. It was such a small hand, though he was younger, Jimin was much stronger than Yoongi. “Here it is, I will tell Kookie that you are in here, he is watching a movie too, so you can work undisturbed.”

“Thanks, Jiminie,” Yoongi patted his head again and Jimin beamed at the praise before searching for some clothes to steal from his mate.

Yoongi opened the website he had been using for his mixtape. Selecting his latest opened his newest creation, trying to reach for where he usually kept his headphones but coming up empty and the song started playing. Face red and heart hammering nervously he paused the music and Jimin’s head poked out of the walk-in wardrobe.

“What was that?” Jimin asked, curiously he was slipping on a pair of sweatpants with his athletic build on display. Yoongi took note of the ‘Nevermind’ tattoo on Jimin’s rib cage and wondered to himself what it meant. He and Jungkook were the only two in the group that he had seen tattoo’s on.

“Uh, it was a song that I wrote?” Yoongi muttered embarrassed, “Does Jungkookie have headphones at all?”

“Yeah, I can go ask him.” Jimin smiled, “Can I hear something you have written?”

“Sure,” Yoongi nervously played the song. The beat was kind of old school and Jimin heard some of Yoongi’s adlibs but they weren’t explored fully yet. Jimin was bouncing on the bed to the beat enjoying the sound and vibe. He liked the word play of ddaeng and the ‘one-eight, one-three, three-eight.

Yoongi watched Jimin intently wanting to see his reaction, a little embarrassed when Namjoon’s head popped into the room he was nodding to the beat listening, Hoseok and Taehyung appearing enjoying the sound greatly.

Yoongi had made a guide which was quiet in the background with what he thought the lyrics fit the song, but he had one completed verse. When he first wrote the lyrics he didn’t think it was first verse worthy but he really liked it. Not wanting to waste some dope bars. He kept it for the second verse. As the second verse began his voice came through the room and his cheeks went red.

“Ddaeng.” Yoongi’s voice was strong, accompanied by his deep hum “Mmm…”

Taehyung was hyped by the verse and began jumping around the room excitedly, Hoseok and Namjoon were both sitting there with thoughtful faces repeating chorus’ and enjoying the wordplay. Namjoon began freestyling a small bit at the end using his own play on words for the sound ddaeng, likening it to a cash register, a game of tag, and more. 

“That’s really dope, did you write that yourself?” Jimin asked excitedly looking at the screen for any sign of another name or some sort of program that could have helped him.

“I wrote the lyrics or what little lyrics I have and I made the track using my software. I have a bunch of tracks I produced and have written for but these are the latest ones I have worked on.” Yoongi explained “I made a trap beat with some eastern instruments to basically diss the community for saying that rap music doesn’t fit with Korean culture.

“Can I get you to look at something?” Namjoon said and brought him down the hall to a makeshift studio, “Listen to this…”

Yoongi stood in his robe feeling out of place while Namjoon began typing away on the computer bringing up a program and a file, he pressed play and Yoongi paused it. “I need headphones. I need to hear the layering and everything in depth”

Namjoon nodded, handing him the headphones, and began listening, Hoseok’s voice came in rapping about being a psycho rapping a cypher. Yoongi enjoyed his flow, it was unique, quite colorful, and fun, Namjoon was very intellectual and full of wordplay. They both had their strong points but they were missing an element that most rappers had.

They didn’t have the raw anger that was needed, sure Hoseok and Namjoon were mad but it was lacking. The cypher was amazing, the third verse they wrote together was quite odd and didn’t really bring the anger that Yoongi wanted it to. Almost a letdown.

“The third verse is shot, cut it out.” They nodded “It needs something rougher something to wrap it up, get the final hype. Hoseok has some serious teasing at the start, Namjoon gets real smart but the end needs to be rough. Make the people mad with raw emotion and power behind the delivery that just wasn’t there.”

“He is right,” Hoseok said and Yoongi made a face as he listened to the last verse again taking the lyrics sheet and began making changes adding entirely different lines in places.

“It is good though you just need to deliver it better, get exasperated on the track, that shit sounds like you are fucking proving a point.” Yoongi stood up from the computer and played the track into the tiny soundproof booth. It was a little portable box insulated just like any other booth Yoongi had rented before to work on his mixtape. 

Even though the booths were different sizes they worked the same and Yoongi stepped inside it had just begun Hoseok’s verse and he was reading over the lines getting ready to record when it got to the third verse he took the lines running putting as much gravel and emotion into the lyrics.

He rapped like he was trying to argue with someone about his worth as a rapper. He delivered the verse as if it was his own cypher he let things flow he got to the section that Namjoon had previously performed and the pace picked up, he didn’t let up the whole time and as he hit the last line he let out a loud laugh he was embarrassed to rap in front of anyone. “Hahaha….. YA!”

 Tags: @staerryminimini​ 

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[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Unreleased Ranking (5)

This is a re-ranking of Lana's unreleased songs, after making a first a few years ago. This is all my opinion, which I don't mind anyone disagreeing with but don't come for me for it - honestly, I like every song, despite any criticism, and this ranking is very vague. It's based on objective and subjective opinion.

This is the fifth of five posts, with my favourites.

Wild One

Lana is nostalgic without the sadness, remembering how she’d shake it for Mike but is embracing her freedom. She lets country influence seep through her voice and her uncomplicated instrumentals – it would be an unsurprising addition to Chemtrails

True Love On The Side

Though simple in structure and lyrics, it’s more Lana’s grittier rock sound and her incredible vocals that make this one of my favourite unreleased tracks. Lana lets herself go and goes full pop rock chick for this track, whilst keeping in with her ‘other woman’ trope that makes the song still familiar despite its departure from her usual music.

Driving In Cars With Boys

Dripping in nostalgia, Driving In Cars With Boys makes you yearn for the kind of 1950s/1960s era Lana often laments over. Lana is a bad girl just having fun, doing what she pleases and giving in to her vices, and it’s this kind of song that is relatable in its escapism and desire to just do what you please. There are two versions, one with a more monotone chorus that matches the rest of the verses and another where Lana sings in a higher register, letting her cheerful, breezy love for driving with the boys shine through in her vocals.

Angels Forever Forever Angels

Perfect for Paradise, Angels Forever Forever Angels has that slow, rhythmic summer drive feel, a relaxed version of Ride which also has associations with the bikers that feature in both the music video for Ride and the lyrics to this unreleased song. It’s dreamy but grounded by Lana’s patriotic love for the grungier side of Americana.

Hollywood

It has a breathy chorus you could sing to, the feeling of a summer evening and blue skies. The ever building and dropping beat that keeps the song ticking as restlessly as Lana’s hopes and dreams gets me feeling pumped as much as her emphasised, dragged out “Hollywood” in the chorus makes me soothed. Lana is wishing for fame and fortune but it has the feel of an eighties American teen movie, iconic and deserving of a cult following.

Yes To Heaven

Hazy like a daydream, Yes To Heaven is made of sunlight and soft grass, closer to nature than the spotlights of Lana’s often alcohol-soaked, money drenched stages. Lana’s voice is tentative until it shimmers in the chorus, and though it was made for Ultraviolence, it wouldn’t be out of place on the shining beacon of hope that is Lana’s positive turn, Lust For Life.

Life Is Beautiful

This gorgeous song was intended for Age of Adaline’s trailer, and it’s been years of waiting for the full song to be released. Now we have it, it’s certainly worth the wait. Dreamy and soft, this track is a timeless classic that could underwhelm from it’s gentle feel but works perfectly well as a pure little love song.

On Our Way

Stripped back and with a country twang, Lana doesn’t add fuss and frills to this song, instead just crooning precisely how she feels in the kind of song that keeps you daydreaming for hours. Not even the smattering of her favourite imagery (Chevrolets and K-Mart lip gloss) overshadows the love that’s at the forefront of this track.

Never Let Me Go

Like On Our Way, Never Let Me Go has the country twang and stripped back feel that makes this a more subdued song, her lyrics shining even more. Lana’s additional strings layer this song well and her comparisons to the dangerous couple that is Sid and Nancy gives this track an edge, keeping it from being too frothy.

French Restaurant

A piano ballad, Lana strips back the hurt of Without You and dual dedication of Video Games to sing about how fame matters so little to her while she’s torn between two men. Her voice is beautiful and it does well to be so minimal in its production, her emotion driving the song clearly enough. Especially pretty are the backing vocals of the choruses, echoes of her thoughts that hammer home her broken feelings.

Trash Magic

Lana’s delicate and soft vocals help tie into the Lolita-esque character Lana often plays in her music. It has a similar feel to 1949, dripping with her delicious imagery, and wouldn’t be out of place on AKA Lizzy Grant. Lana is the fragile ‘daddy’s girl’ again in this song, and the sharp yet soothing music in the background sets the tone for a quiet trailer park night.

Us Against The World

Though fairly chilled out, Lana still hooks listeners with her characterisation of waitress by day/stripper by night, a dangerous girl tempting an equally dangerous guy. Lana drips sexiness in this song and though it’s not as exciting as some of her other unreleased pop hits, it is perfect for the Del Rey character.

Your Girl

Much like Caught You Boy, Lana is desperate for a man she can’t have but is instead a complete wreck. Lana just repeats over and over how she wishes she was this man’s girl, practically pleading after describing how she needs to be led off the stage from falling apart. Yet it’s still sultry, still passionate, and is topped off by her honey-like vocal demonstration in the bridge and the chorus.

Roses

Lana is the other woman with a twist – instead of moping about her man (Other Woman, Sad Girl) she is taking action. Fighting against him, not letting him go without making some noise and getting rid of his girlfriend, Lana storms into the song with a vengeful wrath and calls him out for his poor attempts at apologies. When this song first came out, I adored it, since it was the exact kind of strong-girl track I wanted from her with a great hook and all the right Lana-isms. Now, I still get that thrill listening to this song and its kick-ass fuck-you to the man she loves.

Playing Dangerous

The churning drums, the spoken verses and the coy vocals set this song apart from her others. It falls shorter during the choruses, the verses being the best parts of the track, but the way Lana interacts with the listener ultimately and is a more direct character of ‘innocent’ seductress who might actually be downright bad (arson is hinted).

Serene Queen

Lana is unbothered and unruffled, as collected as she is in Put Your Lips Together but this time with a definite Ultraviolence/Honeymoon feel. Lana is unshaken by the blazing guns, instead completely calm with her dangerous lover, questioning why he even has a problem in the first place. As it picks up in the chorus, almost smirking, it becomes one of her finer unreleased songs yet.

Ave Maria

This is just an instrumental but there’s something so beautifully haunting about it. It wouldn’t be out of place in a Hollywood movie, with shades of the Lolita soundtrack instantly coming to mind when it first starts. It even works well without singing, and I hope we get a full version soon.

Puppy Love

From the perspective of a Marilyn Monroe figure, Lana plays the teenage girl wishing for a traditional romance with her lover. It’s ever-so-adorable, harking back to the sweeter parts of the fifties, but there’s a sense of sadness throughout it. Under the surface of the puppy love is the reality that the references to Monroe do not forget her sadness, loneliness and ultimately her overdose. The tone shifts to such an unhappiness in the bridge, directly calling back to Monroe’s phone call shortly before she overdosed, twisting the song to something more melancholic.

Cherry Blossom

The lullaby that grew into the marvellous, completed Cherry Blossom is a lovely tribute to someone small and beloved. Though Lana doesn’t have children yet, the care in her voice and each of her heart-warming compliments and promises is still thoroughly enjoyable – and comforting.

Colour Blue

In a song that reminds me of the love/hate relationship of Norman Fucking Rockwell, Lana takes her time to question why she loves the men that she does and, ultimately, grow from it, beginning to want something different. It’s raw and personal, with a gushing chorus that is complimented fully by the guitar. This song is blue all over, from Lana's opening harmonisation to her abrupt, unhappy ending.

Paradise

This song is, of course, pure paradise. A summery beat, a flippant Lana simply enjoying her lover no matter how long she’ll have him for and her coos of “sick!” and “that’s dope!” make this into a tasty distraction fit for the sunny months. Her casualness in this track is fresh as well as the dance-happy music that she doesn’t often create in her albums.

Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

Lana is the waitress with a crush in this bop of a track, trying to convince a guy to get with her instead of that “bitch”. Convincing she is, as she uses all of her charm, wit and insistence that there’s no promises behind her intentions to have a good time with him. It’s just a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of her music, not too heavy and perfectly polished. It’s self-assured as much as it is breezy, and calm as it is it’s still a riot to listen to.

Caught You Boy

A dream-esque confession of desire, obsession and pure, crazy love, Lana isn’t outright insane in this track (Kinda Outta Luck, Jealous Girl, Serial Killer) but she hints towards being slightly too attached to her beau and describing herself as an army of one. The song is sweet and flowery but there’s a sadness and danger to it that keeps it from being too sugary.

Fine China

Some of Lana’s best lyrics are in Fine China as she sings of her fractured relationship, unhappy wedding and many beautiful yet easily broken things. It’s a slow, unfussy ballad but her strong voice and stunning lyrics make it so much more than a throwaway unreleased song.

Thunder

What feels like a coming-of-age slow dance song but is ultimately a choir-backed break-up track. Lana’s lyrics are clever and her voice is the perfect complement to The Last Shadow Puppets, this combined work a sure hit that deserves some kind of release and recognition. Lana is frustrated but tender as she leads the song with plenty of presence.

Prom Song Gone Wrong

The fifties feel, the teenage romance, the warm and gorgeous vocals that switch from dreamily longing to a cheeky talk-rap suggest this is a song tied tightly to Puppy Love, except with a more hopeful feel to it. Lana is ready to leave and she wants her lover to come with her, and even if it’s a youthful mistake there’s no mistaking that the love she – and her man – feels is real. It’s a pretty dedication to the kind of head-spinning romance of younger years, though it has an edge to it. Lana’s choruses are desperate, her pleading genuine and the strange way the music builds and collapses right at the end give the illusion all isn’t the sunshine and rainbows Lana sings of – and hopes for.

[elftwink]

i have now seen the new cinderella movie twice and it’s so weird. first of all it’s probably because i’d only ever heard about the movie via tiktoks making fun of it and not seen any ads but i didn’t know it was a jukebox musical and it took me like three songs to figure it out but like... all the song choices are so bizarre? most of them just barely apply to the scene so it feels more like an interruption than a natural progression. it also feels like they made 0 attempt to match singers up to a style that they’re used to and sound good in which is partly i think why the vocals are getting torn apart so bad.

i mean like. okay sorry this is going to be very self important ex theatre kid of me to say but if you listen to camila cabello in million to one (a song they WROTE!! for this movie!!![i think]) it sounds like she’s trying to belt using her head voice and so it sounds so strained and not in like an ‘overpowering emotion’ strained but like she can literally barely get the notes out. and like hey. why did you make her sing that then. why is it so bad when you wrote it for a person who already has a successful career singing for a musical that isn’t even live like you can edit the audio and process it and do several takes if one doesn’t sound the best.

and the reprise is so bad because it has all the same problems but it’s in that part of the plot right after the stepmother ruins her dress and before the fairy godmother arrives and she’s like crying and it’s very sad and then the energy of the scene completely changes for her to do another uplifting verse of million to one and it’s like WHY ARE YOU MAKING HER SING THIS LIKE THAT. and the lyrics are adding NOTHING!!! to the story!! it’s just the chorus so it’s nothing new and it feels almost unrelated to ella’s emotional state. and bc of that the only thing you can focus on is the vocals!! and how they’re very clearly not her best work!!

it feels like this movie was written by someone who has seen a musical but not really understood it at all. the songs come in abruptly, and it’s very poorly communicated when characters can hear each other. while they generally fit the vibe of the scene that’s... all they do. like in a musical the lyrics of the song are dialogue. they’re part of the story; if you remove them you leave holes in the story because major plot beats should be happening there. in cinderella (2021), songs are just kind of about the scenes, if that. the plot sort of happens around them, to the point where it’s sometimes annoying when they start singing bc it’s a 3 minute pause on anything you actually wanna see. this is the musical people are talking about when they’re telling you why they hate musicals and don’t find them believable.

ONE good section song wise was seven nation army which is annoying bc it’s prefaced by whatta man which.... has just an awful instrumental arrangement like stop leaving these singers out to dry. but like anyway this happens when the prince first comes to the ball and the various women come to try out to be princess sing whatta man and then they transition into a rendition of seven nation army by the prince which... in this context works! it comes off as melodrama from the prince and offers a different interpretation of the song that i think is actually really funny. it has personality, it fits with the story, which makes it so weird that most of the other songs do not. like i could put together a better track list for this movie i think.

and that all sucks because in between the songs, the movie is actually like... pretty good. like not great; it’s very... direct with its #girlpower plotline in a sort of tell-not-show way, so some lines of dialogue feel like the writers thought you might be too stupid to pick up on the fact that ella wants independence and [financial] freedom but misogyny is a major barrier in her way even though that’s the whole point. BUT the plot itself is actually a kind of fun twist on cinderella, if not 100% untrodden ground. the characters all have motivations and goals that make sense. the stepsisters and stepmother are great; i think sometimes cinderella retellings make the stepfamily very cartoonish and flat, but i think they feel like real people (i mean, a little silly, but that’s in keeping with the tone of the movie; and it means the stepsisters make for decent comic relief without ruining the tension between ella and the stepmother). most of the jokes landed! if there were 0 songs this would be a fairly decent family movie with a kind of wildcard cast. but instead it’s This. wow.

(also it’s really unclear whether the problem is interpersonal misogyny or systemic misogyny, and the movie seems to purposefully conflate the two. the prince points out that women are not allowed to run businesses, and refers to purchasing ella’s dress as doing his part to correct a flawed system. women have a prescribed role in royal courts that would require ella to give up her work. the stepmother’s entire motivation behind trying to get the [step]daughters to marry rich is that women only have social mobility through marriage to men; men who control their lives and can on a whim destroy them. but then also you simply just have to believe in yourself and not let anybody tell you what to think about yourself and it will all work out! like hello?? what are the laws in this kingdom. maybe i’m too leftist for this movie. i don’t know what i expected from an amazon original.)

disclaimer i’m not a singer or a musical expert and i don’t know what i’m fucking talking about i have no qualifications i was a drama kid over 5 years ago and that’s all. i just love to be a bitch. xoxo

anyway. 4/10.

[peachhcs]

It Was All Yellow

Pairing : Luke Patterson x Fem!OC 

Summary : Blaire makes quick friends with Julie and Flynn during her first day at Los Feliz High School which took her by surprise. Although, that wasn’t her first surprising thing of the morning. 

Word Count : 2.7K 

My first Julie and the Phantoms Series?? My first series in general actually. (On Tumblr anyways, I’m on wattpad too!) Anyways, this is Luke with my own original character so I hope you guys enjoy it! 

Yes I know it seems like Blaire isn’t gonna end up with Luke in the beginning but it’s all character development and Ryan’s for the plot later ;)

Series Masterlist

* * *

Chapter 1 : The New Girl

Blaire hated first impressions. They made her feel awkward and it was always a case of, i promise i’m not this awkward, i just hate first impressions. just wait until you get to know me more. Although, she has been saying that to people for the past 3 years everytime she moved, so it was kind of like second nature to her and it just kind of went over her head. Blaire hates goodbyes, so she tries not to get too close to anyone anymore because then it would just be a mess of saying goodbye and omg i promise i’ll text and call every night! They never did call.

This time it was different, though. Blaire walked into Los Feliz High School on her first day and she instantly spotted two girls, one with beautiful dark-colored skin with an incredible fashion sense and a second one with curls to die for. Blaire wished her flat, sort of wavy, damaged, aburn colored-hair did what that beautiful girl’s hair did. Something inside her just set a spark off and she just had to talk to them. Something was compelling her to be their friend, so Blaire did just that against her better judgement.

“Hi..” Blaire spoke up softly once she was close enough to the two friends. Their conversation had cut short at the sound of a new voice and they turned their heads towards Blaire. A smile found it’s way onto the curly-haired girl’s lips. Her smile was soft, it brought an immense calming feeling over Blaire’s persona.

“Hey, are you new here?” The curly-haired girl’s voice was soft and Blaire didn’t know what she was expecting but it definitely wasn’t the girl just knowing she was new at the school. Most people never even payed attention to new kids, they hardly ever knew that there were new kids in the first place. Blaire couldn’t help the smile finding it’s way onto her lips.

“Um, yeah. I am, how’d you know?” Blaire chuckles a little, holding her backpack straps tighter. The girl just shrugged a little, chuckling too.

“Just a hunch. I’m Julie. That’s Flynn over there.” She motioned over to the girl with pretty box-braids and that still, incredible, fashion sense. Flynn waved with a small smile.

“I’m Blaire, by the way. I love you fashion sense.” Blaire says looking at Flynn who smiles deeply, glancing down to see what outfit she had on today.

“Thank you! I’d be damned if I didn’t win best dressed senior year.” Flynn laughs glancing between Blaire and Julie who join in on her laughter.

“They would be wrong to not vote for you. Nobody can top Flynn’s style.” Julie says glancing over at Blaire who nods in agreement. There really wasn’t anyone who could match what Flynn was pulling off. Blaire was a little jealous herself, if she was being honest.

“It’s true. It really is incredible. You’ll have to give me some tips.” Blaire says glancing down at her own clothes. Just a simple jean jacket pulled over a peach t-shirt tucked into some denim shorts.

“Girl, you already look fab, but don’t worry, I’ll hit you up with the good people.” Flynn winked and Blaire laughed and nodded. She already loved these girls and she’s barely known them for 5 minutes. She didn’t know what it was, but there was just something about them that was making her want to be apart of their friend group and know more about them. These girls held their heads high, they were confident, strongly independent, Blaire could literally feel it. She really had never met people like these girls before.

“What class do you have first? Maybe if it’s around where we are we can all walk together?” Julie suggested and Blaire quickly dug her schedule from her pocket. It was a little ripped and tattered but it was still readable.

“Umm, AP Literature with Mrs. Shall.” Blaire read aloud and she heard Flynn let out what sounded like an impressed whistle.

“So you’re like, smart smart. Okay Blaire, I see you.” Flynn coos and Blaire’s face went a little red at that. She just shrugs, to her it wasn’t really a big deal. Her dad always wanted her to take all the advanced classes to help her transcript and all that stuff to do with getting into a good college.

“Not really. I bet there’s so many other people who are smarter than me. I’m actually more into music and stuff.” Blaire admits and this was the first time she’s opened up this much about herself on the first day. Usually, it’d take her a few days to crack because she put a wall up because she hated letting people in only to leave not long after. This was different, though. Much different.

“No way, us too. Julie’s actually in a band.” Flynn says and Blaire pushes her eyebrow up at Julie who smiles shyly. Blaire looks her over once more before it finally clicks in her head.

“Wait, you’re Julie and the Phantoms?” Blaire asks in disbelief. Ever since she saw that youtube video last year of the band performing, she’s been in love. They sang and sounded like angels and Julie had such an amazing stage presence.

“Guilty.” Julie chuckles and Blaire’s eyes widen even more. She squeals a little bit quickly shuts her mouth in embarrassment. Julie and Flynn both chuckle at her little squeal.

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. You guys are amazing I’ve seen the youtube video and listened to a few of the tracks you guys have recorded. It’s all amazing. You guys sound so great together.” Blaire gushes, her inner fan girl coming out. Julie smiles warmly at her words always loving the positive feedback.

“Thank you, that means a lot. We’ve been working really hard this past year to bring good stuff to the table. We’re excited.” Julie smiles and Blaire had to stop herself from squealing again.

“That’s awesome. I’ll definitely be looking forward to it. Plus, however you do those holograms, that’s literally incredible. It looks so real, too.” Blaire gushes again not being able to contain herself.

“Julie, I think she’s a keeper. She loves the band and she’s really nice.” Flynn says glancing over at Blaire who found herself blushing again at the hospitality. She’s never been treated this nicely by people she’s met on her first day. Blaire could say they were keepers too.

Before the three could do anything else, there was a sound of a bell that Blaire assumed it meant it was time to head to first period.

“Quick, run us down your schedule, we have to have classes with you at some point or at least B lunch.” Julie speaks up quickly and Blaire nods, pulling her schedule out again to read it down to the girls.

“AP Lit, Calculus II, French III, AP Government, Music, B lunch!, AP Biology, and free period.” Blaire reads aloud and Julie and Flynn jump around in excitement that she had B lunch with them.

“Awesome! I have Calc II in second period so I’ll see you then.” Julie says with a smile and she waved before walking off down the hallway to class.

“My class is in the direction of AP Lit so I’ll be glad to walk with you.” Flynn says holding out her arm for Blaire to link with. The auburn-haired girl smiled warmly as she linked arms with her new friend and started their way in the opposite direction Julie went.

“So, Miss Blaire, tell me about yourself. I want to know everything.” Flynn starts and Blaire chuckles. She pauses to try and think of something interesting but her life wasn’t really that interesting. Well..none of what she could say anyway..

“I like dogs?” Blaire says grimacing at how bland and boring that sounded.

“Dogs are cool. What kind of music are you into and any special talents with instruments?” Flynn continues not missing a beat and Blaire smiles, liking that Flynn wanted to get to know her. It was a nice change of pace.

“Well I can play the piano 100%. I’m kind of self-taught? I just picked it up one day when I was like 8 and it went from there. I’ve been trying to learn the guitar but I’m not the greatest at it and I guess I can sort of sing?” Blaire shrugs. Singing wasn’t really her main passion, she liked it, it was just kind of something she did on the side though. Her mom always told her she should have taken it further because according to her mom, she had a really nice signing voice.

“A girl with many talents. I like it. You should definitely stop by Julie’s sometime and we can see what you got up your sleeve.” Flynn says nudging her again and Blaire chuckles with a small nod.

“Alright, yeah. Definitely. What about you miss fashionista?” Blaire asks raising her eyebrow. She wanted to know more about Flynn, too considering how she held herself and her very outgoing personality.

“I’m not so much of a singer, but I do like DJing and I can play the trumpet.” Flynn says and Blaire nods impressively. This girl really could do it all and was it all.

“Djing, I like it. It suits you.” Blaire says and Flynn smiles as they slow down to a bunch of open classrooms students were walking in to.

“Alright, see you later Blaire. Stay fresh.” Flynn says before breaking off and heading into her own classroom. Blaire chuckles with a smile before turning into her own classroom.

The girl scans the room, trying to find a good seat when someone suddenly runs into her, almost sending her flying but they were quick to catch her.

“Oh shit, my bad. Are you okay?” Blaire breaks away from whoever’s grasp she was in to meet eyes with a blue eyed, crazy brown haired boy who had a very concerned look on his face.

“Oh yeah, I’m good. Sorry.” Blaire rushes out shaking her head and the boy raises his eyebrow.

“You’re sorry? I nearly knocked you over. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks and Blaire tilts her head a little. Maybe it was something in this school’s water but everyone she’s met so far, not mentioning it’s only been 2 people, has been extremely nice. All the people from other schools across California have been stuck up and extremely arrogant.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Save yourself the sweat, crazy hair.” Blaire felt a little bold so she went for it, adding in the little nickname. She saw him smile a little before quickly taming his wild head of hair.

“That bad, huh?” He says and Blaire nods. She spotted an open seat in the middle row so she started to make a beeline for it. Middle row seats were the best after all, not too close to the teacher, and not too far away to get caught up in whatever drugs were being passed in the back row. Blaire found her seat and the same crazy haired boy followed after her, grabbing the seat beside hers.

“This seat taken?” He asks raising his eyebrow and Blaire chuckles and shakes her head.

“Be my guest.” Blaire says and the boy smiles. She gives him an amused smile back before pulling out her notebook for the class and a pencil.

“Oh, I’m Ryan by the way.” The boy spoke up again and Blaire glances at him with a smile.

“Blaire.” She responds and the boy returns her smile. Maybe this new change wouldn’t be so bad after all..she could rebuild herself, wash away everything anyone’s ever known about her and start new. I mean, she deserved it, right?

—

Blaire caught sight of Julie as soon as she entered the classroom and the girl waved her over. Blaire quickly hurried over to her and grabbed the seat next to Julie’s desk before anyone else could take it.

“So what do you think so far? Are you liking it?” Julie pushes her questions and Blaire laughs. She shrugged because she’s only had one period and met about 3 people so she couldn’t judge it yet.

“I’ll let you know around lunch, I’ve only met like 3 people so far.” Blaire laughs and Julie pushes up her eyebrow and a smirk falls on her lips.

“3? Who’s the lucky third?” Julie teases and Blaire just shakes her head with a chuckle.

“I met him last period. It’s name Ryan.” Blaire explains and Julie was already oohing and ahhing.

“Sounds like you two had a good interaction.” Julie says poking her friend’s cheek to indicate there was a blush on them. Blaire pushes her hand away and rolls her eyes.

“I don’t even know him so let’s not take it that far.” Blaire laughs and Julie only shrugs.

“Mark my words, Blaire. I know and see everything.” Julie says with a smirk. Blaire laughs and nods just to make Julie happy. The two girls turn in their seats when the teacher comes in, indicating it was time to start class. They exchange one last smile before pulling out their notes to start class.

Blaire didn’t notice it at first, she was too focused on copying the notes down in time before the teacher switched to the next slide because he was going a little too fast. Blaire had never really been a math wiz but she wasn’t bad at it. She did good and maintained a B+ to A average so she was satisfied and her dad was pretty satisfied with her scores too. He used to be really strict and really pounded into her head that she needed to do well, but ever since her mom passed away a few years ago, he’s laid off a little which Blaire was grateful for.

It was the pink pullover that caught Blaire’s eye that made her turn her head in Julie’s direction to see what was going on. Not really sure what she expecting when she looked, but it definitely wasn’t a boy with Troy Bolton hair, black jeans, vans, a pink pullover standing in front of Julie’s desk. Blaire blinked and then blinked again to make sure what she was seeing was real. She swears the boy wasn’t in the class and she didn’t know how the teacher didn’t see him standing right in front of Julie’s desk.

Blaire glanced at the teahcer, who still didn’t notice the boy standing right there. Was she like seeing things? But she couldn’t be seeing things if Julie was looking right at this kid and scribbling things down into her notebook like she was talking to him. Julie finally glanced over at Blaire for a quick second but she didn’t miss that confused glance and the direction she was looking in. Blaire saw Julie and the kid exchange a glance before looking back at her with wide eyes.

Julie quickly shot her arm up and Blaire suddenly became a little worried.

“Yes, Miss Molina?” The teahcer asks, stopping his lesson. Julie glances to Blaire, a look telling her to follow her lead.

“May Blaire and I use the bathroom? Girl problems.” Julie says and Blaire raised her eyebrow wondering how Julie had that much confidence to say that in front of the whole class. She heard the class snicker a little but the teacher clapped his hands, telling them to be quiet.

“Yes, you may.” The teacher says and Julie nods a thank you. She glances at Blaire and motions for her to follow her out. Blaire quickly packs her backpack up and follows Julie out of the room without another word. The boy in the pink pullover followed after them and yet, he still hasn’t been seen or mentioned by anyone in the classroom.

Julie pulled Blaire around the corner, stopping the two of them where they were out of earshot from any other classrooms. Blaire looks between Julie and the boy very confused and very worried because Julie looked surprised, not worried, but shocked.

“You can see him? Like right here, in front of your face?” Julie asks pointing over at the boy and Blaire glances at the boy who meets her eyes and slowly nods.

“Am I not supposed to be able to see him?..” Blaire trails off slightly. She was getting lost and Julie and the boy exchange another glance.

“What am I wearing?” The boy asks glancing down at his outfit and Blaire looks it over again too.

“A pink pullover with black jeans and checkered vans.” Blaire explains what she sees and Julie’s eyes widen. Blaire was still very confused as to what was happening and why Julie was so surprised she could see this cute boy in front of her.

��She can see me! She can see me! Do you think she can see Alex and Reggie too?” The boy exclaims jumping up and down now and Blaire glances at Julie for help. The girl lets out a sigh.

“Looks like we’ve got a alot of explaining to do..”

[earthfluuke]

tine teepakorn is a very important boy to me, and i don’t think i’ve expressed that a lot. hopefully, this fic does just that. everything in here is incredibly true and personal to me. and seeing how so many people relate to tine, i hope others can relate as well.

after some reflection on the show (and after a discussion with @emisfritish), i realized that despite how different type and tine are, they have something in common: they both have a ton of anxiety and a constant need to be perfect. they just express that in different ways. there was only one common denominator i could find: their parents.

i hope you all enjoy this! and tine...i’m so sorry, you have become the punching bag for all my insecurities.

Tine Teepakorn is confident. He’s charismatic and cool with a perfectly prim image. His Instagram aesthetic is carefully crafted, and each picture is chosen with the utmost care. He’s well groomed, has impeccable style, is the epitome of chicness.

Tine Teepakorn is confident, because that is what he wants people to see. It is much easier, much more widely accepted, to be the shoulders back, chin held high type of guy rather than the one with nerves bubbling in his stomach or swirls of self-sabotaging thoughts whipping through his head.

It’s easier, until he goes back home. Until it’s eyes focused on his plate, monotone answers to monotone questions, snide remarks that are meant to go in one ear and out the other but instead stick to his brain and batter his heart.

Being at college with people who care, with people who know him, has blurred the lines of what is okay where. His excitement about making the university cheerleading team is met with praise and congratulations at school. Here, it’s the scrape of a knife against ceramic, downturned eyes that don’t meet his own, the sneer of, “cheerleading, Tine, really?”

He sinks back into his chair, takes a long sip of water. This is who Tine Teepakorn is. He’s bubbly and fun and more insecure than he will ever admit.

…

“Breathe, Tine,” Type soothes softly. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Holding his brother’s hands, Tine squeezes as he desperately tries to take in air. His breath is staggered, stiff, quick, and everything is spinning. A numbness aches through his body as he tries to remember what his father had said to send him into this spiral, but nothing comes to him.

Whatever it was, it had to have been bad if he’d excused himself to the bathroom in the middle of dinner, only to be found by Type when his parents started the dishes. It isn’t their first time in this position; it won’t be their last.

He can vaguely make out voices through the cracks in the door. Hushed and muffled, they speak fast, tones harsh. Eyes blown wide, they hyper fixate on the yellow light streaming in from the kitchen. What they’re talking about isn’t clear but who they’re talking about is crystal.

Before his breath can pick up pace again, Type tugs on his hands, pulls his focus back to him. “Look at me,” he says, just the right amount of calm and serious. “Only at me. You’re okay. Keep breathing. Like me, watch.”

They stay there for another ten minutes, until Tine’s breath is no longer ragged. Type fixes the shirt collar he’d viciously pulled at and pushes his hair back into place. He then asks if he’s okay, and Tine can only nod; because that’s what he must be as he forces a neutral smile back onto his face and leaves the bathroom to reenter the lion’s den.

…

His only solace is his mother’s cooking. It’s warm and comforting and gives him something to hold onto when the tidal waves come and try to knock him overboard.

But then there’s the disapproving hum, followed by, “your body is going to catch up to all that sooner or later.”

He drops the spoon he’s holding, forgoes the idea of a second helping. He’s become so accustomed to late dinners out with his friends and the snacks Sarawat gives him from his ever growing pile of fan gifts that he’s forgotten the countless times his father has made the remark before.

…

Silence is better than defense. It’s something he’s learned long ago. Arguing is futile, because I am right; you are wrong. It’s tiring, more work than it’s worth.

There’s no fight in him when he relays his first semester results. They’re nice, high marks, but that doesn’t mean they’re enough.

“Your brother was in much better standing his first semester of college,” his father says. Nothing follows except a swig of his wine and a heaviness in the air.

Type looks like he wants to say something, to jump to his side and make things better like big brothers should. But Tine shoots him a look, one that begs him to stay quiet, lest the real claws come out. In comparison, this is barely a scratch.

Bless his brother; he says nothing, only lets out a breath from his nose and chews the inside of his cheek. He’s clearly conflicted, wants to do something more, but this is enough for Tine. Supportive brothers take out some of the sting that comes from unsupportive parents.

“I’ll get them up,” he says. There’s no response.

…

Returning to his apartment after the weekend ends is always the same. It’s quiet, dark, something smells good. By the time his shoes are off, Sarawat is by his side, and in an instant, Tine is falling directly into him.

Everything is clockwork from there. Arms wrap around him and hold him tight. Neither of them speak. Sarawat has never asked about his trips home; not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows Tine wants to leave that at the door and lock it away from the safe space they’ve created in this apartment.

He has so many questions; Tine can tell from the tension in his jaw and fire in his eyes. He wants to do better, help more, but just having him here to care for him is enough.

From there, they find themselves in the kitchen. A bowl is pushed in front of him, and even though he claims he’s not hungry, Sarawat pushes a fork into his palm. Yes, you are, it says. You’re starving.

And he must be with the way he clears the dish in no time. It’s not the same as the family recipes his mother prepares for him, but Sarawat doesn’t hesitate to refill his bowl and offer him more. There’s a warmth there that doesn’t come from the food.

Shower, pajamas, under the covers. Their routine ends when Sarawat offers him a place on his chest, and he takes it. Feeling his steady heart beat and his fingers through his hair brings Tine back to the place he’d left a few days prior. It’s the place he always wishes to be, but that is simply a luxury he can’t be granted. At least when he’s with Sarawat, he never has to leave.

…

He has been dating Sarawat for six months, three weeks, and two days when his father says, “Now that you have a proper job, it’s about time you start looking for someone to settle down with. Don’t you think, Type?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tine sees his brother’s shoulders hunch. He says nothing, only gives a stiff nod before shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth. He’s then given a list of criteria that their father finds fit for a Teepakorn son, but Tine has stopped listening.

He and Sarawat haven’t made a formal announcement that they’re dating, but everyone knows. They’ve never hidden who they are to each other; there’s always been Instagram posts, hand holds, flirtatious teasing in the back of the music club room.

The logical next step is to tell their families. Phukong knows. Even though she hasn’t mentioned it, Tine has a sneaking suspicion Sarawat’s mother does as well. Maybe it’s time his family knows.

He has a lot to think about.

…

Tine doesn’t blame Sarawat for the look of confusion he sends his way; he would have looked the same if he was in his shoes.

“You want to introduce me to your family?” he asks, words sounding unsure on his tongue.

Sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, Tine, unable to meet his eyes, looks to his knees. “I want them to know who I’m dating. Since, you know, I’m pretty serious about you. If you’re really it for me, I want to tell them.” Fingers digging into the underside of the mattress, he adds, “But if you’re not ready for that, I won’t force you.”

Sarawat’s hand finds his hair and pushes some back behind his ears. When Tine finally looks up, he’s offering him a soft smile. “If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll be right there with you.”

Returning the grin Sarawat sends him, Tine lifts a hand to grab one of his and squeeze. It’s reassuring to know that no matter what happens – and he has a sneaking suspicion something will – he has Sarawat by his side.

…

Just like every other person who has ever met him, his parents are taken with Sarawat the moment Tine walks him through the door. They barely make it to the dinner table before his father is talking his ear off, asking him every question under the sun.

“You’re in a band, you said?” he asks as he cuts through his slice of meat. “What instrument do you play?”

“Guitar, sir,” he answers. Tine doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so formal. He’s trying hard to make a good impression, and it’s just as sweet as it is worthless. His words mean so little in the eyes of the one who is always in the right.

He hums in thought and sends a grin over the rim of his wine glass. “Very impressive.”

“Actually,” he adds. “Tine has been learning how to play too, and he’s improved a lot.”

Cut off before he can say more, his father continues, “You’re on the football team too?” You could teach Tine a thing or two. Maybe then he could join his faculty’s team next year.”

Clearly taken aback, Sarawat swallows hard before commenting, “Well, we wouldn’t be anywhere without our cheerleaders.”

Tine bites his lip. He knows what Sarawat is trying to do, and while it’s sweet, he wishes he would stop. He doesn’t know – he couldn’t know, because Tine has never explained any of this to him – but it will only make the situation worse.

“Oh? Someone special on the team?” he infers. “What is this lucky lady like?”

“Well…” Sarawat begins to say, voice trailed off and unsure.

“That’s actually why I invited him here,” Tine picks up for him, voice shaky. His heart beats double in speed, but he doesn’t stop himself. He wants this to be said; he needs it to be. “You see, Sarawat and I–”

“She must be quite the catch to land a young man like yourself, hm?”

“What I’m trying to say is that we–”

“Perhaps she has a friend you can set Tine up with? He’s never been very good at finding someone for himself.”

“It’s me!”

The table grows silent, and the air suddenly feels cooler. A shiver runs down his spine as all eyes look to him in varying degrees of emotion. The floor feels as though it’s dropping out from under him, but he uses the table as an anchor. Holding on tight, he hardens his jaw. He’s pent up, and he’s so very, very tired. This has to be it.

“Sarawat and I are dating,” he says, the smallest bits of confidence holding his chin up. “That’s why I brought him here. To tell you that.”

It doesn’t surprise him that his father is the first to speak. “You’re dating,” he says, not believing it until he says it himself. The confusion turns to shock then to anger, and he whips his head to the opposite end of the table. “Did you know about this?”

Slack jawed and wide eyed, all Type can do is stare, and for once, Tine is the one doing the protecting. “Leave P’Type out of this,” he says. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“And what were you going to prove by bringing him here?” he barks. All of that praise he’d had only moments ago is gone as he bores fire into Sarawat. “Did you think we’d be so quick to accept this? To welcome him into the family with open arms?”

He doesn’t know what he expected. All he knows is that he doesn’t want Sarawat to be a secret, that he doesn’t want to hide. He’s not ashamed of them. And there had been a smidge of hope that his parents wouldn’t be ashamed of them either.

But that hope is dead and gone as he looks his father in the eye for what feels like the first time in years. He’s always ducked his head, found a piece of a wall more interesting, shut them tight in fear of what he’d see if he opened them. Not this time.

“I didn’t bring him here for you to accept us,” he says. “I brought him here to tell you that we’re together. And now that I have, we’ll be going.”

Chair scraping against the wooden floor, he pushes it back under the table as he looks at his mother. Always silent, never one to disobey who she’s been convinced is in charge – of her, their family, the entire world – she stares at him with a mixture of sadness and distrust. “Thank you for the food,” he says.

Turning on his heel, he goes for the door. Another chair scrape alerts him that Sarawat is following him, and his hand just meets the knob when his father shouts, “It will never last, you know. Not just because you’re two men. Has Tine told you about his past relationships?”

Every drop of confidence – and there are so few of those – flows out of him and leaves him cold. Replacing them are the bitter, awful thoughts he’s done so well to keep at bay. They’re the ones that tell him that Sarawat can do far better, has a line of potentials that reaches the entire length of Thailand waiting for him. Earn and Pam are just the start; there are so many girls, boys, people they have yet to meet who can outshine him and uproot his spot in Sarawat’s heart.

“None of them have lasted,” his father repeats, as if to wedge the knife in deeper. “What makes you think yours will?”

Sarawat replies before any words can even come to mind. “I can’t speak on Tine’s other relationships,” he says. “But I can speak on mine. I love your son, and I believe him when he says he loves me. I’ll be with him for as long as he’ll have me.”

Gently taking his hand from the door, Sarawat opens it for him. As he leads him out, he leaves them with, “And when he tells me that’s forever, I trust him.”

…

They sit in his parent’s driveway until he’s breathing normally again. He just manages to get his seatbelt buckled when he hears the shouts of “Tine!” coming from the front porch.

Type runs to the car, waits for Sarawat to roll down the window, but he says nothing. Their eyes lock, and there’s a silent understanding. There’s guilt in his gaze, apologies that go unspoken. His face is heavy and sad, and Tine wishes he could say something to comfort him but nothing comes out.

It’s Sarawat who speaks up, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Glancing back towards the house, bottom lip worried between his teeth, Type doesn’t answer, but Sarawat seems to understand. Unlocking the doors, he nudges his head towards the empty back seat. “Get in,” he says. “I’ll drop you off at Man’s.”

Engine roaring to life, they back out onto the street, and slowly, the lights dim in the distance. The irony is, the farther away they get, the brighter Tine feels.

…

“I can’t believe them,” Sarawat mutters. The two of them have cocooned under the blankets, tucked together as closely as possible. “I had a feeling it was bad, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“It’s okay,” Tine soothes, a hand petting over his chest next to where his head lays.

“No,” he says seriously, arms tightening around him. “It’s not okay. Don’t ever think that.”

Fingers curling into the fabric of Sarawat’s night shirt, he murmurs, “But this…we’re okay. Right?”

“Of course we are.” There’s no hesitation in his voice. Hands cupping the sides of his face, Sarawat drags him up to look at him. “Who you’ve dated, how long you’ve dated them, doesn’t matter to me. What matters is how you feel about me. And I meant it when I said I believed that you love me.”

Stroking his thumbs over his cheeks, he says, “I don’t care about the past; I care about the present.”

“And the future?” Tine asks, smiling into the kiss he presses into his lips.

“Especially the future.”

Tine Teepakorn is a lot of things. He’s confident, yet insecure; happy, yet so terribly anxious. But regardless of who he is, he finally has a place where he belongs. There are no blurred lines, no doubt. It doesn’t fix everything, doesn’t solve all of his problems. But it certainly makes things better.

[struwwelzeter]

How good are Paul and Richard as guitarists? I love how they play for different reasons but from a technical and also your personal perspective how are they?

There are two answers to this. I am sorry this ran away with me worse than the album cover one.

1. ... not that great. Like technically, most of that is pretty basic, fingering wise and harmony wise. I mean, I couldn’t do it, most couldn’t do it, because I don’t play guitar, but from a guitarist’s perspective? There’s like ... 5000 little kids on youtube that shred more difficult stuff. They even say that themselves though, that that’s not what they are trying to do. There are a number of Paul quotes that I am too lazy to dig up on how he’s not a shredder like Yngwie Malmsteen and that’s not what he’s trying to do in a manner that makes me think he doesn’t like Yngwie, which, I get because Yngwie is a pretentious prick who thinks playing pagagnini on a guitar is impressive - which from a classical or jazz guitarists (who are even more insane just withbthe complexity of the stuff they play then rock/metal shredders) or a violinist point of view it isn’t. I digress, sorry.

Then you have Richard saying that Hotei was too fast for him, which, there’s plenty guitarists that are faster than Hotei, or how he prefers an impactful AC/DC riff over endless soloing which is the only correct opinion, thank you for being reasonable honey.

That being said ... I know someone who can probably hold a candle to Yngwie or someone like Guthrie Govan, and he admitted to me, in person, that he tried to play along to Rammstein and can’t do it. I have heard other guitarists say the same - Which ... brings us to the second answer.

2. The’yre pretty insane at what they do. Ask any musician and if they’re not lying arrogant pricks with a naturally insane feel for rythm, they’ll tell you that holding a monotonous, repetitive steady rythm over a long period of time is really fucking hard. It takes alot of stamina, it’s exhausting, and it’s just difficult, the longer you have to hold it, the more difficult it gets. They are very precise and very enduring. There is this bit in the Amerika documentary where I think someone from Limp Bizkit says how they’re not only heavy, they almost sound military, and that is exactly that. Like, take Asche zu Asche, that’s basically powerchords and simple fingerings, but I dare you to find someone on youtube that plays it in that same steadiness without losing groove.

The sound secret of Rammstein is the use of alot less syncopation (that’s, grossly simlplified, (dear music theorists please don’t bust my ass I know ok) the stretch of one note and the shortening of the next, or the other way around. Think Ta-Ta-Ta-Ta vs. Ta-Taa-Ta-Taa. They mainly maintain the groove just by playing behind the beat, so you have the guitars clocking in slightly behind let’s say the kick drum, and that’s how it get’s that drive. When Paul says “we’re german, we clap on one” he refers to that very streamlined, unorganic understanding of rythm and that’s just not that easy to do on an instrument. EBM does it of course, but they go through a huge hassle to make their machines have a “funk” and make it sound less that way and uhm. Digressing again.

I’m gonna blow all the bits and pieces that I started to collect for my in defense of Los essay here but tbh I was way too lazy to ever write that, so here we go, because Los is such a good exemple. Like musically, that is a very standard blues riff. But they play it in the less obviously syncopated and hyphenated way so that, while still being completely recognisable as a standard blues riff, it is also completely Rammstein. Which is what makes this song so wonderful and so wonderfully underrated, because people go “meh it’s just a boring old blues song” and completely miss the point about how they took some of the music they undoubtedly grew up on, and just ... made it Rammstein. It completely illustrates what they are soundwise, eapecially with stripping all else like the dual rectifiers and the EMG pick ups away and it’s bare bones who they are, which no, is not the effects or distortion levels, it’s their rythm treatment. people don’t get it and it makes me a little mad. Because it’s that what sets them apart from the rest of the industrial metal crowd, they still have a very basic rock n roll root in there somewhere (sorry Richard but you do), and it’s ... they’re just really cool and now I am gushing, oops, sorry. I’m just saying, the AC/DC and Alice Cooper and the origins of that music is still in there.

I’ve been on a few music forums over the years and talked to people and the “what makes a really good guitarist” is so widely and passionately debated, but I think ultimately people will (albeit begrudgingly) admit that the greatest guitarists of all times are the ones that made something new with their instrument. That’s what legends are made of. It’s why people now say the electric guitar is dead, because everything has been done with it (I don’t agree with that but i digress AGAIN). Think coming up with new effects and ways to play, like Hendrix or Jimmy Page, or new ways to treat rythm like Keith Richards or Angus Young ... or Paul and Richard. Speaking of Angus, AC/DC get the same rep of being “easy to play” but when people try to keep up they can’t for stamina and missing precision reasons.

There is something to be said about Richard as a writer in his own right, because it’s very recognisable. I don’t get how people say that Emigrate sounds so different to Rammstein because I don’t think it does, not harmonically. It’s a pretty clear handwriting. I’m not well versed enough in harmony and modes and all that to be able to tell what makes a Richard riff a Richard riff, but I am 95% certain there is a pattern.

Paul is harder to gauge because he doesn’t release his own stuff and Feeling B doesn’t count because musically that’s - how did we say, contemporary experimental noise making. Or maybe I just haven’t listened to it enough to catch a pattern.

So uhm. Time for TL;DR:

Technically pretty basic, almost impossible to beat on their own turf even by non basic players, innovative.

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to  Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records.  Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records.  Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.  

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation. 

 James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.” 

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

 Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits) 

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.     

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it?  Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take: 

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

  Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No. 

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment? 

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found. 

 Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed) 

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No 

Derek Taylor’s take: 

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.  

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”   

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

 claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes  

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”  

Ian Mathers’ take:  

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest. 

 M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

 Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in. 

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while. 

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

 Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.” 

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience? 

 The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete) 

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No. 

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

 Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No. 

Jason Bivins’ take: 

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

 Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell 

Did we review it? Not yet! 

Mason Jones’ take: 

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

 Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

Who picked it? Ray Garraty 

Did we review it? No. 

Ian Mathers’ take: 

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.

[aellynera]

Slingshot (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

SLINGSHOT

(this was inspired by the song “Slingshot” by Ellis Paul, which i think is one of the loveliest love songs ever written, and is something i could hear Llewyn playing on his guitar.)

Word Count: 2412(ish)

Summary: There are many different kinds of storms. Some are fierce, some are quieter, and some walk around with a name and show up in your apartment at three o’clock in the morning.

Warnings: Not really. Maybe a bad word or two.

It was late, almost three in the morning, and you had tried all you could to fall asleep. Mindlessly watching some TV. Listening to soft music on your old second-hand record player. Hot shower. Hot cup of tea. Cold shower, since it was getting more humid outside and therefore hotter in your apartment. Glass of water. Another shower, but just warm instead of hot.

Still awake.

You sighed and filled the kettle again, preparing to make another cup of tea. You knew it was probably useless, but thought perhaps, just maybe, it would work this time. At least your lip had stopped bleeding and the side of your face was now a dull throb instead of the excruciating, blinding torment it had been a few hours ago.

You sighed as you set the kettle on the heating stove and turned to search for a clean mug. There was exactly one, of the entire three you owned, that wasn’t in the sink to be washed. Grabbing it, you unceremoniously tossed a tea bag in as you waited for the kettle to boil. And then you almost dropped it when you heard a voice coming from the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”

You sighed as you just barely managed to keep a grip on the mug. Dropping it and watching it shatter across your kitchen floor would have made this horrible day infinitely shittier. You should have been more surprised but the sudden appearance, but in all honesty, you really were not. It was more surprising that it was about to rain. The weather had been calm and tranquil no more than twenty minutes ago.

“Llewyn!” you hissed. “What the hell.”

He motioned over his shoulder towards the living room. “I was passin’ through, and I saw your window was open and it’s about to start pouring, and I figured maybe I didn’t have to get drenched so I came up the fire…” he paused as you closed your eyes and blew a breath out your nose. “Baby, what happened?”

You turned back to the stove. You forgot about your lip and winced when you went to bite it. Thank god your back was turned and he didn’t see it. All you wanted was to go to sleep and this was the last thing you needed right now. He was the last thing you needed right now.

“Don’t you baby me, Llewyn Davis. I haven’t seen you for weeks and now you...technically, you just committed a B&E, and you scared the shit out of me.” He didn’t, really. More like annoyed the shit out of you, after the day you’d had and the fact that you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

He huffed. It sounded slightly offended. “No I didn’t. Well, not the breakin’ part, anyway. Sorry if I scared you though.”

“Llewyn, you came in my window. Unannounced. No warning.”

“But there was no breaking,” he stressed, “because your window was open. So yeah, I only entered. Christ, anyone coulda come in here.” He motioned over his shoulder again and leaned on the doorjamb, idly picking at a stray thread on his glove.

An annoyed sort of squawk left your lips as you put the mug on the counter and pushed past him into the living room. Oh for the love of...you could do this, you could do this. Count to ten. Breathe. Think of harmless, inconsequential things like puppies and unicorns and daisies. Anything except how frustratingly...frustrating...the man in front of you could be. And how he’d disappeared for weeks and now just entered your apartment at nearly three o’clock in the damn morning like it was nothing.

But with Llewyn, it was never nothing. That was the problem.

“The window is open because it’s hot and it gets stuffy in here. And you didn’t answer my question,” you snapped, even as you pushed the window closed, maybe just a little harder than you meant to. You snapped the lock shut for good measure.

Llewyn shrugged, still eyeing your slightly swollen cheek and puffy lip. “I was around, just, y’know...and then I went to Chicago for a little while, and…”

“Chicago?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, long story.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away for a second. But it was only a second before his deep, dark eyes were back on you.

“They usually are, with you.”

“I write songs and stories, what can I say. Seriously, what happened to your face?”

You sighed and flopped onto the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it to your chest. The sky outside was lighting up, rapid streaks of energy piercing the falling darkness. Fitting for how your whole night was still going. “It’s nothing. A couple of drunks got into a fist fight and I got caught in the crossfire.”

Now Llewyn raised an eyebrow. Both of them. “Things gettin’ more exciting at the Gaslight since I’m outta town? Christ, I didn’t realize folk music was so explosive.” He moved over to the couch and sat down next to you.

“Folk music, not so much. Stray elbows to the face, a little more so.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He reached a hand toward your cheek and you flinched. “Hey, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His voice was soft. So soft.

The kettle whistled shrilly and you sighed, started to get up. Llewyn stopped you and stood himself, then placed a kiss to the top of your head and went into the kitchen.

“Whose ass do I have to kick?” he asked as he poured boiling water from the kettle.

You snorted. “What, you gonna take on all the drunks in the Village?”

“If I have to. You gotta put the lunatics back in place when they think they’re runnin’ the shop.”

He came back into the living room and handed you the steaming mug of chamomile tea. You took it carefully from him and inhaled some of the steam as he returned to the spot next to you on the couch. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back against your shoulder.

Thunder rumbled loudly, the lightning strike that caused it close enough to make your window shake. It rolled in on itself several times, the sound slowly draining away as the air temporarily settled again.

You considered this for a few minutes as your earlier irritation with him began to dissolve. Llewyn was hard to figure out sometimes. He was cynical and rude and prone to misanthropy  on a fairly disturbing level; on the other hand, he could be hopeful and sweet, caring and at times even romantic. You were used to him coming and going, it was just part of who he was, but honestly...you wished more often than not that he would just stay. Things felt more right when he stayed.

You took a sip of tea and turned your head towards him, offering a wan smile. “I’m fine, really. It was just a couple drunk preppies. I can take down drunk preppies.”

He smiled back. “I know you can. You’re tough as shit. I wouldn’t wanna meet you in some dark alley. I’m just sayin’...I got your back, you know. If you need backup, I’m your guy.”

You hid your smile behind the mug now. “What are you gonna do, beat them over the head with your guitar?”

“Hell no. Jesus, what do you think I am, some kind of savage?” You had to giggle. Llewyn honestly did look offended now, at the mere thought of any damage coming to that beloved instrument. 

“Nah, my nephew Danny gave me his slingshot. I’ll make sure I always have it in my pocket with a couple of rocks,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “Pop the drunk preps in the head a few times, get their attention. Maybe get ‘em to stop being douchebags.”

The laugh that was about to escape your lips stuck in your throat when you looked at Llewyn again, really looked, and saw the turmoil reflected in his eyes. He was trying to be light, but there was definitely a heaviness that overshadowed his mood.

The sky outside finally broke and rain lashed wildly at your window. A flash lit up the room briefly, followed by another resounding boom that rattled the pane of glass in its frame. And then the lights went out.

“Shit,” you muttered, finding the side table in the darkness and putting your mug down. You slipped your shoulder out from under Llewyn and started to get up. “I have candles in the drawer by the sink.”

“I know where they are, I got it,” he replied, getting up before you could. He went to the kitchen in the nearly pitch black, like he could see in the dark. You heard the drawer open and him rummage around, and then he was back in the living room, lighting a candle with his cigarette lighter and placing it on your coffee table.

You couldn’t quite explain the twinge you felt in your chest at his actions. It felt so casual, so normal, that he just knew where things were in your apartment because he was there often enough. That tickle of thought that I wish he would just stay crept into the back of your brain again.

You said nothing as Llewyn settled back down on the couch again. This time, he reached over and pulled on you gently so you were laying your head on his shoulder. The breath you let go was deep and entire, as if it were coming all the way up from the tips of your toes. He idly stroked your hair as the elements continued to thrash against the walls around you.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. You just watched the candle flicker and listened to the rain steadily bounce off the window.

“Sorry I disappeared on you,” Llewyn finally said, his voice low and quiet.

“You wanna talk about Chicago?” you asked, leaning into his warmth, not taking your eyes off the dancing flame of the candle.

You felt his shoulder move slightly as he shook his head. “Not really.”

You fell into silence again. The light touch of his fingers on your hair and the sound of the rain outside began to make your eyes heavy. The air inside was getting stuffy, from a combination of the humidity outside and the gentle heat from Llewyn’s arms and chest. The last bits of tension eased out of your limbs and you swore your face even stopped aching as much. Finally.

“You ever think about getting out of here, for real though?” your words were becoming tinged with sleep, soft and low and nearly a whisper.

“Out? Where would we go?” Llewyn chuckled, tilting his head down to place the lightest kiss on top of your hair.

We. He said where would we go, not where would I go, you realized. And he had apologized for leaving. You really started to wonder what had happened in Chicago.

“Dunno. Anywhere. A cabin in the middle of the woods.” Despite your suddenly sleepy comfort, a hint of amusement crept into your voice. “A hut on a beach somewhere.”

“Cabins in the middle of the woods are kind of horror movie,” he said. “And I’m not really big on sand.”

“Mmm. Okay, how about...a castle? We could build a castle somewhere, I’ll be the princess in the tower and you can be my one-man army, defending the keep with that slingshot in your back pocket,” you giggle. The rolling thunder of sleep was definitely starting to win over you now.

Llewyn stopped moving, then pulled himself out from behind you. For a few seconds you worried that you said something that was too much, that even suggesting that you be somewhere together and that he stay for once might be too much. The sudden loss of his comfort felt more stifling than the hot, uncirculated air in the room.

But he had said we, not I.

Where would we go?

Llewyn leaned over and blew out the candle. The next thing you knew, he had picked you up in his arms and was carrying you back towards the bedroom. The lights were still out, but your eyes had adjusted well enough to the dark to function. And Llewyn knew where he was going anyway.

He gently set you down on your bed and then, somewhat your surprise, stretched out next to you. Normally he would have just made his move to the couch. You made a note in your sleep-addled brain to ask him again about Chicago in the morning. Something had definitely happened, but...it could wait until morning.

He looked at you nervously, as if he were afraid you might decide to kick him off the bed and out into the storm outside. You gave him a sleepy smile and reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling it to your chest, asking him to stay. Telling him to stay.

Some of the turmoil in his eyes seemed to disappear as he realized you were not, in fact, going to kick him out. Part of you realized that the storm outside had settled, the rain had stopped, with just a few distant peals of thunder clinging to the atmosphere.

He moved closer to you, pushed a stray lock of hair off your face, and kissed your forehead. “Don’t need a castle,” he whispered. “I got my princess. And I’ll protect this with a whole lot more than just a slingshot.”

“You sound like you’re writing a song,” you sighed. You turned onto your side and curled up into his chest.

“Hmm, maybe. That’s what I do,” he smiled into the dark.

“Llewyn…” you mumbled, the last flicker of consciousness slipping from you as the last flares of the storm outside faded away, “Stay.”

There was a magic cure for your sleeplessness and your pain. It wasn’t mugs of chamomile tea or warm baths or vapid images on your television screen. It was thunderstorms and mysteries and open windows by your fire escape.

It was Llewyn.

The last two things you were aware of were his arms slipping around you to hold you close and his hushed reply.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”

~end~

tag list: @anetteaneta @darksideofclarke @girlwiththemostcake @rosemarysbaby13

(if you would like to be tagged in future fics, just let me know!)

[fallen-gravity]

Forever Together

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind Connie's choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes.

Five years after Steven Universe left Beach City, he comes to the peak of his journey of self-discovery when he realizes his life just wouldn't be the same without Connie in it.

AO3

Or under the cut: 

Steven Universe is 22 years old. 

Ever since he left Beach City at sixteen and a half, he’s felt peace he never knew was possible. It’s not like he hated living there, or that he never wanted to see anyone who still lived there ever again, oh no. It’s just that when he finally had time to really process what his dad had been trying to tell him, along with a few more listen-throughs of his dad’s Kerry Moonbeam CD, he came to the realization that yeah, maybe a change of scenery really would do him some wonders. It wasn’t running away from all his problems, like he’d originally thought when he was too angry to process what Greg had been trying to tell him, it was a journey of self-discovery. 

And when he finally chalked it up to tell Greg he wanted to move on, he had been expecting shock, or wave upon wave of waterworks. And, okay, maybe there had been waterworks, and maybe most of it had been on his own side, but to his surprise, Greg was super supportive of his decisions and told him he was ready to help him start packing as soon as he was ready. It’s not that he wanted Steven to leave, or anything, he just wanted to be as supportive of his endeavors as possible, something he never received from his own parents.

“I had to crawl out my bedroom window, even with two suitcases that probably weighed about 25 pounds each!” he’d exclaimed, and even to this day Steven can’t tell if he had been joking or if he had been dead serious about it. 

Either way, Steven was grateful. Grateful for the support not only from Greg, but from the Gems and all of the townsfolk of Beach City as well. If he hadn’t gotten their immense support, he’s not sure if he’d even gone through with it, and he never would’ve had the opportunity to discover so much about himself and the world around him. While he made ground-breaking progress discovering himself and his mental health through therapy and time alone with his friends and family, the time he had all to himself now that he was on the road finally gave him time to discover even the littlest of things about him, the things that made him human.

Like how he’d discovered, upon stumbling across a music store, that for someone who could masterfully play the ukulele and the piano when he was six, that he sucked at playing wind instruments. 

Or that it isn’t just hometown bias, and Fish Stew Pizza really is the best in the state.

Or that he really, really missed eating fried eggs, and that one month where he’d only drank protein shakes for breakfast was the biggest mistake of his life.

Or even the fact that not only were some of the surrounding states still selling Cookie Cats, but some places were even selling flavors other than the classic vanilla-strawberry.

All these little things that really made him realize that maybe his dad had been speaking metaphorically when he’d mused about his first time trying a taco.

But despite all of these discoveries, and changes, and new experiences, there was always one consistency he could always count on when he was on the road. One consistency that made everything just that much more magical than any mission he’d ever been on with the gems. One consistency that reminded him that wherever he went in the world, wherever he’d end up, he’d always have-

Suddenly, his phone starts ringing. It’s just one five little note ringtone, but it’s enough for Steven to start grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t even need to take his eyes off the road for half a second to check the caller ID to know who it is. He adjusts his phone’s place on the car clip Pearl had gifted him on his birthday a few years prior, and slides the screen to the right to answer the call. 

“Connie!” he grins again, despite the fact he knows that she can’t see him. “Just on time, I just pulled into town. You done with classes?”

“Just finished about twenty minutes ago,” she replies, and even without being able to see her he can tell she’s grinning too. “I wanted to get a head start at packing so you wouldn’t try to carry all of my stuff out in one go to try and impress me”

Steven blushes. “That was one time!”

She giggles. “That was winter break, Steven. It wasn’t that long ago. Plus, I only have half the stuff to take home with me, since spring break only lasts the week”.

“Awww, only a week?” he replies in mock-disappointment, a stand-in for his lack of ability to pout at her right now.

She snorts. “I’ll be home for the summer a month from now, Steven”

“I know”, he replies, pulling into a parking lot across from her on-campus apartment. “I just can’t stand to be apart from you” he whines exasperatedly, to which Connie replies with hysterical laughter. It makes his heart skip in his chest.

Connie.

Connie Maheswaran, the love of his life, has been without exaggeration, the best piece of consistency in his life he could ask for. Every time she wants to visit her parents at home in Beach City, or every time she wants to go on a short weekend trip of her own, or even just when she wants to grab breakfast somewhere other than her campus dining halls, she calls him and he picks her up without a question about it. Truth be told, she got her license about six months after he got his, but even five years into their relationship she’s told him that she loves any excuse she can to be around him. And he’d be lying to everyone in the galaxy if he tried denying for even a second that he felt the same way about her.

Five years ago, he had asked Ruby and Sapphire for relationship advice. Five years ago, they had both eagerly suggested proposing marriage, and five years ago he went through with it out of desperation for any sense of consistency and assurance he’d have at least one person in his life that wouldn’t leave him behind.

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind her choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes. Had it not been 2:45 in the morning when the thought came to him, he would’ve called her right then and there to talk about it.

There’s a sudden light knock on his car window, startling him out of his thoughts so suddenly that he yelps. He turns to see who it could be, and he’s met with Connie’s grinning face as she silently waves hello to him.

“Connie!” he grins, and scrambles to unclick his seatbelt as he opens his car door to greet her. They exchange a tight, squeezing hug, followed by a soft, sweet kiss.

“What kept you?” she asks, once they pull away from the kiss. “I thought you said you wanted to help me pack, but you never came upstairs after we hung up”

“Huh?” Steven blinks, but a quick glance behind her and he notices that she already has both of her bags with her. He blushes, rubbing at the back of his head. “Oh, sorry, I, uh…” he coughs awkwardly, the blush on his cheeks only worsening. “I was just...thinking”.

She gives him a soft smile, but doesn’t question further. She drags her bags to Steven’s Dondai, opens the back door, and tosses her bags inside before closing the door again. On her way over to the passenger’s side door, she stops, places a gentle hand on Steven’s chest, and kisses him on the cheek. “Full of mystery as always,” she teases, gently patting his chest where her hand lay. His blush worsens even more, and it must practically be written all over his face at this point, because Connie snickers again. “You haven’t changed a bit”.

“Heh, well, you know me, Steven Universe” Steven’s voice cracks as he goes to open Connie’s door for her, and she giggles once more before he finally settles into his own seat on the driver’s side. Once they’re both strapped in, and finally sure that yes, they’re done kissing, they swear, Steven settles his back against his seat and sighs comfortably.

He taps rhythmically against the steering wheel. “So…” he says, turning his gaze towards Connie once again. “What are you thinking? Diner first, or are you itching to get home?”

“Pshh, like you even have to ask”, she smirks. 

The first time that Steven had driven up to visit Connie on her campus, they had accidentally stumbled across a little diner called Rosa’s when they’d been looking for somewhere to eat. They’d shared awkward giggles over the pink roses scattered all over the sign advertising the place, and decided to check the place out “just for the joke”, but were soon to discover that Rosa’s sold the best pie slices either of them had ever had, and took it upon themselves to try a different slice of pie every time they went there. He’s yet to find one better than their cherry pie slices, but Connie always teases him with the increasingly likely fact that it’s just because it’s the first flavor he ever tried.

This is the kind of consistency Steven is talking about. He can visit the gems any time, he talks to his dad on the phone on an almost nightly basis, and his weekly escapades with Lars are still going strong. But nothing makes him feel more consistent, more human, than when he’s with Connie. Looking forward to things as mundane as pie slices, or silent car rides, or very not-so-silent car rides, or  cloud gazing, or stargazing, or anything he gets to experience with her makes everything in his life feel that much more cheerful and exciting. 

The morning after he woke up in the middle of the night with the words not now repeating over and over in his head, he called her as soon as he woke up and told her he wanted to talk about what happened after he returned home from the hospital. Good news this time, I promise, he had told her, and minutes later they were right back where they had been, walking hand and hand down the shoreline. They talked all morning about their relationship, and the future near and far, and after dozens of rejected apologies on the grounds that Connie insisted he didn’t need to make them, they shared their first real kiss. 

And Steven had felt like he was on cloud nine. 

And for every kiss after, every phone call, every date, that feeling of cloud nine never really went away. It felt unreal, being with Connie.  

Five years ago, if he’d been asked, he would’ve said he couldn’t live without Connie. He’d say he needed her, like his life depended on it, like he wouldn’t have a future without her. If someone asked him now, he’d say sure, he could live without Connie, but he can’t possibly imagine why he would ever want to. 

Not now.

That had been when Connie was a sophomore in high school. They were sixteen. She hadn’t even taken the SATs yet (whatever those were), let alone gotten accepted into any of her colleges of choice. They were still kids, stuck in their pining phases, too scared to make the first move, let alone call the other their partner to their face.

Connie’s a senior in college now. She’ll be graduating in a month and a half.  She’s been working on job applications since the end of her junior year. Her birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Where they once giggled at the idea of holding hands, it’s now harder to catch them with their hands apart. They’re inseparable when they’re together. Ruby and Sapphire have Garnet. Steven and Connie have Stevonnie, but he realizes now he doesn’t need Stevonnie, just as Ruby and Sapphire don’t necessarily need Garnet.

He doesn’t need to be with Connie forever to be happy; he wants to be with Connie forever because she makes him so happy.

If he weren’t so focused on driving a car right now, the thought would’ve slammed into him a lot harder than it did. As a matter of fact, he’s almost surprised he didn’t accidentally slam the breaks of the car on, the way those thoughts seemed to crash into him. He takes a quick moment to glance over at her in the seat beside him, and she’s staring dreamily out the window, looking just as lost in thought as he just felt. 

The idea crosses his mind that she could be thinking about the same things as him, and it brings a pink blush to his cheeks once again. He quickly turns his attention back to the road, and practically sighs in relief when he sees that they’re pulling up to the diner. Once parked, he takes a deep breath as quietly as he can manage, and turns to Connie.

“Hey,” he smiles in an attempt to assure her that there’s nothing wrong. “You think you can go in and get our table? I’m gonna give the gems a call and let them know we’re on our way”. He hates lying to her, but it’s the closest he can come to the truth without blatantly telling her he’s thinking of proposing again, so he brushes it off as “not counting as lying”. 

As if she’s trying to read his thoughts, Connie glances at him for a few moments, before she leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “Sure,” she says, and unclips her seatbelt and steps out of the car. She leans on her door for a moment, smirking. “Don’t take too long,” she teases, and it’s with a grin and a silent wave from Steven that she closes the door and heads into the diner. 

As soon as he’s sure she’s gone, he scrambles for his phone in his pocket, and shakily scrolls through his list of contacts until he reaches G. He takes a deep breath, to center himself, and hits call. 

“Hello, Steven” Garnet answers after only two rings. “It’s so good to hear from you. I assume you and Connie are on your way home?”

“Yep!” Steven replies cheerily, but rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “But, uh, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about”.

“Oh?”

He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been thinking about proposing to Connie. For real this time”.

There’s a painfully long silence. Steven’s almost worried he accidentally hung up, or that there’s terrible service, until suddenly there’s the sound of  “STEVEN!!! STEVEN STEVEN STEVEN!!!!” from Ruby’s voice screaming into the other end of the ear piece. “I KNOW I’M HORRIBLE AT ADVICE BUT DO IT!! DO IT! YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER!! DO IT DO IT DO IT!!!!” she squeals, and Steven laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably. 

“Oh, hey Ruby…” he says. “It’s great to talk to you, but I was really hoping I could talk to-” he starts, but there’s the sound of the phone dropping to the floor on the other end followed by another short pause.

“Me,” Garnet finishes his sentence for him. “Sorry, those two just can’t contain themselves when they hear any talk of weddings. You were a terrible influence on them”, she teases, and Steven blushes again.

“I know….” he replies, but then he shakes his head to reorganize his thoughts. “Wait, no, I don’t have a lot of time, Connie’s waiting for me in the diner”.

On the other end, Garnet chuckles. “Wow, you’re really serious about this”.

“I wasn’t going to do it right now!” Steven squeaks, face burning hotter than it’s ever felt in his entire life. “I don’t even have a ring yet,” he mumbles, nervously playing with his hair. “I called you because I wanted to ask if you thought I should go through with it”.

“Hmmm….” Garnet hums, like she’s actually running the numbers in her head. “Well,” she finally says after a painfully long pause of what couldn’t have been longer than three seconds. “Do you love Connie?”

Garnet’s going to kill him, he swears. He’s going to melt into a puddle right here on the seat of his car.

“Yes, I love Connie more than anything else in the world!”

“Do you think she loves you?”

“I…” Steven freezes. “I’m pretty sure, I can’t exactly speak for-”

“Do you want to take care of her?” Garnet cuts him off.

The question suddenly makes him tear up. He wipes at his eyes. “I-I mean, she can take care of herself, but if she’d let me-” 

“Then I think you should.” Garnet replies surprisingly nonchalantly. “Steven, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The reason your proposal didn’t work out the first time was because you and Connie were very young. You know that. The probability of Connie saying yes or no doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you would be asking her the second time. Your proposal to her this time wouldn’t be any less valid because you thought you had wanted the same thing when you were sixteen. Connie’s answer can’t be swayed by me looking into your future. I can look all you want into hundreds and thousands of different futures, and it still won’t matter. If you want to propose to Connie, all you have to be sure of is whether or not it’s what you truly want. You have to be absolutely certain that you love her to the moon and back and you need to have the self-confidence to tell yourself that she loves you just the same. You need to want to take care of her just as much as she’s going to take care of you. You have to understand that Connie is your equal, not what makes you whole. You have to look inside yourself and ask if you believe your love for Connie is strong enough to withstand anything.  You can ask me to look into whatever future you want, but the person you should really be asking these questions is yourself. So tell me, Steven Universe, do you believe it’s the right thing to do?”

His vision is blurry with tears again. “I do.”  He wipes his tears with his wrist. “Thanks, Garnet”.

“Don’t thank me, thank yourself” she says, and then, after a short pause, “I love you, Steven”.

He giggles. “I love you too”.

Clicking his phone off and placing it back into his pocket, he exits the car to join Connie in the diner. And if he thought he felt euphoric the first time he came to this conclusion, when he was skipping around Beach City gathering flowers and a suit and his own wedding cake, that’s nothing compared to how he feels now, when he’s not even planning to propose until he can stop by the jewelry store just outside of Beach City, and he can’t even do that with Connie in the passenger seat of his car.

He stops at the door of the diner, fixes his hair in his barely-visible reflection in the window, and steps inside.

“Steven, over here!” Connie waves at him from a table towards the back, and his heart starts beating so hard in his chest he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it. “Everything okay back home?”

He grins. “Well, Garnet fell apart on me,” he shrugs, intentionally pausing long enough to raise concern, “but that’s just because Ruby really wanted to talk to me”. 

She snickers. “Well, after all that proposal business, I’m not surprised”.

The color fades from Steven’s face. There’s no way she could’ve overheard his phone conversation from in here, could she? He wasn’t projecting his thoughts to her phone again, was he?

“What?” 

She reaches across the table and takes his hands in his own, smiling softly. “Steven, I’m kidding. I just meant that I’m not surprised she falls apart so easily”.

“Oh, “Steven practically sighs in relief. “Well, you know them, falling apart to win a baseball game against Homeworld”. He says, trying desperately to cover up the slamming of his heart.

She laughs again, retrieving one of her hands back from him to cover her mouth, a habit she never quite broke from when they first started dating, and it’s this little meaningless gesture that Steven finds himself falling even more in love with Connie. He starts giggling too, and he’s not quite sure if it’s because of his own set of thoughts, or if it’s because Connie’s laughter is just that adorably contagious, or maybe it’s some kind of beautiful mixture of both.

Either way, he can barely finish his slice of pie when it comes to the table. 

“I guess I’m just...really excited to get back home again”, he explains when she asks about it once they’re back in the car, which technically isn’t a lie either. 

“Mmm, me too” she agrees sleepily, curling up against her seat in the car. “Kinda makes me wish I ate less so I’d be awake when we got there”. 

He chuckles, sparing a glance over to her. Her hair is already falling over her face, and her cheek is squished up against the seat. God, he loves her so, so much. “Yeah, well, if you’re still asleep when we get to your parents’ house, I’ll carry you to your room myself”.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, like she wasn’t fully paying attention to what he actually said. “That sounds nice”.

He laughs again, quieter this time, and takes the rest of the car ride to let himself stew in his thoughts. There’s nothing he wants more, he realizes, then to be able to do this every day with her. Not just casual dates to local diners for dinner and slices of pie, but for moments like this, falling  asleep in the car on the way home, trusting the other enough to safely guide them home.

She’s still asleep when they pull up to her parents’ house, and, a man of his word, Steven carries her all the way to her room (with assurance to her parents that she’s fine, she’s just tired from the ride, she’s okay with being carried). 

Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, who love their daughter more than anything, who’ve known Steven for less than a decade, simply nod their heads and let him handle everything.

That’s a silent blessing if he’s ever heard one.

On his way out the door, he wishes them a good night, and once in his car, makes a beeline for the jewelry store. He makes it to the store just before closing, and takes it as good a sign as any that it’s now or never.

And the moment he parks his car on the beach in front of the temple, Garnet’s there, and as soon as Steven steps out of the car and into her embrace, he’s laughing, and he’s crying, and it’s the hardest he’s cried in five years, and the best he’s felt in even longer.

-

Despite everything, despite the driving and the diner and all the catching up he’d been doing with the gems and his dad last night, Steven is running on the least amount of sleep he’s ever gotten in his life. 

It’s not that he spent the whole night worrying that she’s going to say no, it’s that he’s not sure he’s ever been more excited in his entire life. Call him cheesy, call him cliché, but he’s been planning his own wedding for as long as he can remember, but now that it might happen in the near future? With Connie? 

He’s not sure how he’s going to handle popping the question, let alone how Connie’s going to react to it.

His phone tells him it’s 8:30am, but he’s already been awake for so long that it feels much later than that. He’s lucky that Connie never broke her early bird habits in college, because if she had made him wait even another hour he’s sure that he would’ve exploded from anticipation. He’s standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying to fix up his hair to look nice, but not so nice that it’s obvious something’s up, and once he’s satisfied with how it looks he takes one more look at himself in the mirror.

“Take a good long look,” he says to his reflection, “because the next time you see me you may be looking at Steven Universe-Maheswaran”.  Just hypothetically attaching her last name to his own makes him grin, so he repeats the name under his breath again, and again, like he’s six years old again telling himself in the mirror that he’s a Crystal Gem too. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and there’s only two words on his phone screen, but right now they feel like the most important words in the world.

“I’m here.” Sent by Connie at 8:39am

He takes one more deep breath, exits the bathroom, and grabs the ring box from the kitchen counter before he steps outside.

“So...what’s so important that you just had to tell me so early in the morning?” Connie asks as they walk down the steps of his house.  He tries to shrug and act as nonchalant as he can, but fails miserably. He takes her hand in his own, and squeezes it gently.

“Take a walk with me”.

“Oh,” Connie blinks, like it wasn’t what she was expecting him to say at all. “Okay,”

As they’re walking away from the house, down the beach and out of the view of the temple and even further out of view of the rest of Beach City, Steven looks around and thinks back, back to the hundreds of times they’d walked this very beach together, as innocent friends, as comrades in battle, as boyfriend and girlfriend, and now, if things go right….

He stops in his tracks, gently. “Connie?” 

“Yes?” 

He places his hand on top of hers, gazing into her beautiful, soft brown eyes. Keep it together, he tells himself, his breath already getting shaky. Slowly, to steady his balance and his rapidly pounding, he sinks to one knee, and Connie, quick as ever, takes a step backwards.

“S-Steven?”

“Connie….” He pulls his ring box out of his pocket and pops it open to reveal a beautiful, sparkling engagement ring. “Will you marry me?” He asks, his eyes sparkling brighter than they’ve ever sparkled. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, he places the ring box on the sand and takes Connie’s hand in his own again.  “Connie, I love you so much. I love you more than every planet in the galaxy, more than every single gem on Homeworld combined. I want to be with you for the rest of my life because I can’t imagine life without you in it.” he shakes his head.

“I know I said the same thing when we were sixteen. But I don’t mean it the same way now that I did then. You’re strong, and you’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and it’s like Garnet once told me, your soulmate is your compliment, not your missing piece. I want to be your compliment, Connie. I want to be your cheerleader. I don’t care if I’m thousands of lightyears away on some escapade with Lars, or you’re working towards getting your PhD, I want to be there for you. I want to experience everything with you, the same way we used to when we were kids.” He picks his ring box back up. “I want to marry you, Connie” he grins, finally caving in on the tears rolling down his cheeks. “No Stevonnie required”.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Steven can’t see anything through his own tears. He blinks to clear his vision, and she’s staring at him with her hands covering over her mouth, failing miserably not to cry herself. Her gaze keeps glancing from the ring box to Steven and back again.

They make direct eye contact for the briefest of moments, and she practically dives on him. “Yes, yes yes!” she sobs. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” She beams, and out of heat of the moment euphoria, Steven picks Connie up in his arms and starts spinning her around and around until there’s a bright flash of light surrounding them and, ironically, Stevonnie is standing alone on the beach with their arms wrapped around themself. 

Upon realizing what’s happened, Stevonnie start laughing, and laughing, and they drop to the sand on their knees, and they don’t stop laughing until the force and sheer joy of it splits them apart into Steven and Connie, sprawled over on top of each other on the sand.

Connie rolls over from where she’d landed on top of Steven, but turns to face him so she can pepper his face with kisses. “Of course I want to marry you, Steven”, she reiterates, grinning from ear to ear. She takes his face in her hands like she’d done dozen of times before. “I love you so much. You didn’t need to prepare some big speech for me, Steven. It’s like I’ve always said”, she stands, and offers her hand out to Steven to help him stand to his feet.

“I want to be a part of your universe”.

[themonotonysyndrome]

The Holy Quintet in Twisted Wonderland! (all 7 dorms - Part 2)

Now we have Kyouko’s reaction to the other dorms! Sorry that it took a whole weekend to edit this.  

Hope you guys enjoyed it!

-

Sakura Kyouko & the other dorms (except Savanaclaw)

HEARTSLABYUL!

Bless Sayaka for warning Kyouko in advance about the many, many rules of the Heartslabyul dorm. Riddle’s collar would probably latch on her if the redhead girl walk into the dorm lounge, screaming for Sayaka. 

Now, before she was introduced to the seniors of Heartslabyul, Kyouko got to know Ace and Deuce. She easily got along with the two boys since they’re always around Sayaka. It didn’t take long before their trio to become a four member group and they can often be seen goofing off around campus and trouble usually follow after them. 

Kyouko loves going along Ace’s crazy plans. After they accidentally destroy a shelf full of potions in the Alchemy lab, Ace immediately suggest they burn down the lab so Divus won’t find out that it was them. Kyouko was ready to use her Soul Gem as a flamethrower if it weren’t for Deuce and Sayaka.

(Expect Kyouko and Ace to be detention buddies, often)

Deuce treats Kyouko just how his Mama raised him to treat any other girls! Though once in a while, he couldn’t help but drop a cauldron on her whenever she and Ace are up to no good. Luckily he and Sayaka are the ‘chiller’ of the duo.

Trey and Cater got to know Kyouko properly only after Riddle’s overblot episode (she wasn’t with them when Sayaka went all out trying to ‘save’ their Dorm Leader). After the ordeal, the two of them were very grateful that Kyouko was no where near Heartslabyul when it happened). Trey is relief that Kyouko took Riddle’s light chatises over how she eats and etc without a fuss, sometimes she would even tease him back. A good thing that Riddle is now more acceptable to friendly affections and interactions from others. Sometimes if Trey is working in the kitchen and Kyouko swings by at Heartslabyul, she’s his food tester and helps out with the more heavy labour when it comes to cooking. Kyouko loves it!

Now, she’s not very big on the whole social media thing so by right, she shouldn’t have anything in common with Cater. But I can see that she loves music apart from food. So learning that Cater is the guitarist and vocalist for the Light Music club got her really interested. She wonders if she can learn to play musical instruments too. As for Cater, well, he’s more than happy to teach her how to play the guitar (even encouraging her to join his club) and they tend to take selfies together.  

Seeing that Kyouko is genuine and serious about the Light Music club hurried him to introduce her to Kalim and Lilia. Kalim is more than happy to teach Kyouko what he knows too and Lilia always wanted to know more about Madoka’s friends. 

The result? Apparently joining the Light Music club is the first step for Kyouko to actually enjoy being a student for once in her life.  

OCTAVINELLE!

Listen, no one could’ve predicted how Kyouko would got herself entangled with the mermafias and the whole Octavinelle dorm, alright? 

See, while Kyouko just got out from the cafeteria - her arm holding a paper bag filled with food for herself, Ruggie and Jack back at their dorm - she caught a flash of pink walking by. Oh look, there’s Madoka! Alone and walking to meet up with Silver or Sebek, maybe. It’s so odd to see Madoka alone ever since they came to TW. 

Anyway, poor girl was completely oblivious to a 191CM tall boy rushing towards her with a maniacal girl, arms wide open.  

Kyouko is a more of ‘beat’em-now-and-think-later’ sort of girl. So please forgive her that the moment she intercepted the eel boy, her spear was already drawn out and proceeded to smacked him away - violently - like a baseball bat. Poor Floyd got the wind absolutely knocked out of him as he crashed to the Main Street. 

“What were you planning to do to Madoka, hah!?” 

Floyd could only whistle despite the pain flaring on his torso. So one of these pretty girls is super feisty, eh? He’s gonna have so much fun squeezing her!

Let’s just say the two got into a brawl that nearly destroyed the Main Street if it weren’t for Azul and Leona actually coming over and putting a stop to it. 

(Leona doesn’t appreciate having to interfere in someone’s else fight, not when their Brawler could give Floyd a run for his madols, but he really had to pulled Kyouko away before Savanaclaw gets in trouble with the headmaster)

(Azul actually can’t believe there’s someone that could beat his tanker. He thought that the other girls would be like Homura and Madoka; cautious yet gentle. Clearly these girls are an odd bunch! He would need to carefully reevaluate his plans involving them now)  

From that fight onwards, the two are constantly trying to beat the other once and for all. Floyd is living the life; finally a fun prey! For once, he needed to get creative. Squeezing doesn’t do much, not when Kyouko is just as strong and she could easily stab him with a turn of her large spear. She could dish out whatever attack his ‘Bind the Heart’ retaliate and quick on her feet against his elemental spells. 

Kyouko finds Floyd a crazy yet seriously strong student. She has no idea what his problem is, but no way in hell will she back down or show that he unnerved her. Seriously, there’s something wrong with that guy and it’s not just his mood swings. The whole mermafia trio is creepy. 

Jade wonders if his twin’s obsession with the Savanaclaw Brawler will end badly. Oh well, since the outcome is still murky, he’s fully planning to enjoy the show.

Jade will smirk whenever Kyouko scrutinised him. Clearly expecting him to behave like Floyd since they’re twins and all. It’s cute how he knew she wants to prod and poke him just to see if he’ll lose his composure and Jade appreciates that she holds herself back every time. 

While Floyd went on a very direct approach to ‘befriending’ Kyouko, Jade is a subtle and nothing but polite. Enticing her with the menus of Mostro Lounge, the colourful drinks they served and sweeten his offers with a promise that Floyd won’t try to pick a fight with her if she dines at their café. 

(Kyouko eventually caves in on the offer. Won’t you be too if Jade promise to cook you something?) 

Azul wishes there’s some way he could properly learn about these girls apart from observing them in classes or their interactions with their dorm mates. After that fight at the Main Street, he underestimates just how much of a threat these girls can be. Especially Kyouko. Fortunately, Jade told him all about his offers and practically everyone in college knows about her love of food so Azul just had to wait. 

The third Magical Girl to visit Monstro Lounge after Homura and Madoka’s tense dining experience is Kyouko. Azul is surprise to find her alone. He expects at least one of her friend to accompanied her. 

Nevertheless, Azul is quick to muster up his gentleman-like behaviour and silver tongue to try and charm the redhead girl. Or at least get her to trust him a little. Throughout her visit in the café, Kyouko hardly complain about his treatment. 

It’s only after she paid that she gets down to it. In a complete 180 turn, she asks Azul why he’s taking her for an idiot. That stumped the Dorm Leader of Octavinelle. 

Kyouko didn’t bother to minced words; she told him that prior coming to TW, she lives on the street; never having a home. So she sees a lot of... unsavoury people who try to take advantage of a young girl like her. How the conmen with their honeyed words and parental-like sympathy would want to ‘help’ her. Kyouko knows very well what would happen to naive girls living on the streets. They won’t last a night. 

And Azul? Azul is no different from those men the moment he smiled at her. Her words sting the octo-mer more than he would ever admit once Kyouko storms out of Mostro Lounge. 

The Leech Twins are even more fascinated by Kyouko now while Azul and Kyouko barely acknowledged each other’s existence. 

Kyouko has not step into the cafe ever since. 

SCARABIA!

As a favour that she was willing to do for Homura, Kyouko in the end decide to cash it in when it comes to school work. Those History and Summoning classes are tough! 

Since the aloof Magical Girl never invite any of the girls to her dorm, Kyouko decided to invite herself, unanounced. She always wanted to know what a dorm in a desert would look like. The sand soon irritates her after a while. 

The students all directed Kyouko to a spot in the lounge that they all unofficially dub as Homura’s comfort space. Underneath a tapestry of a beautiful queen famous for her thousand stories, there’s Homura in her little nest. 

Kyouko really doesn’t like Homura’s know-it-all attitude but for the sake of her homework, she grits her teeth as Homura explains again for certain subjects. The other students of Scarabia know not to disturb the girls. (words about Kyouko and Floyd’s fight quickly spread throughout college. So seeing her frustrated expression over her books were enough to drive away the Scarabia students).  

Except for Kalim, of course. 

The moment he and Jalim returned to Scarabia and a passing student mentioned that Homura has a guest, Kalim scurries off to meet up with them. Jamil follows after him in an exasperated pace. 

Having gotten used to Kalim’s random, cheerful outbursts, Homura went with the flow as the Dorm Leader introduce himself and let Kyouko talk with him. Seeing that the two were studying, Jamil suggest rather than throwing a feast for Kyouko, why not they study together and Jamil can cook something quick for them to snacked on. That got Kalim and Kyouko on board. 

With Kalim and Jamil between them, Kyouko and Homura kept their snark to a minimum level, to the point that Homura would actually smirk when Kyouko regale them of her misadventure with Ace, Deuce and Sayaka. Not long after, Kyouko begrudgingly throw a compliment about Homura, telling the two boys that although she might be stuck-up, Homura does know her stuff.  

(Perhaps there’s hope for these two girls)

Kalim totally vibes with Kyouko. He loves how spunky, confident and funny she is! He loves her quick hugs whenever they meet up and always accepts an apple from her. If Kyouko loves to eat, then Kalim can’t wait to cook for her. The next time he throws a party, Kyouko would be one of his guest of honour for sure!

The first time Jamil saw Kyouko sparring with her dorm mates, she instantly reminds him of a scorpion. How she would thrust her spears from behind and he watched as the weapon retracted and pull back so smoothly. Fast and brutal, it fits her. 

Compare to Homura, Jamil is internally grateful that Kyouko is such an open book. There’s no hidden meaning underneath her words, no need to feel like he’s squeezing blood out of a stone just to know something about her. As long as she’s not a threat to Kalim, Jamil honestly doesn’t care all that much about Kyouko.

Jamil is so used to cooking for a bunch of people at a drop of a hat because of Kalim and so he’s not too annoyed having to cook for Kyouko whenever she visits Scarabia. 

Jamil is also aware that Kyouko and their Scarabia Raven doesn’t have a good relationship but that’s none of his business.  

POMEFIORE!

If Heartslabyul was the first dorm that Kyouko is hesitant to visit, Pomefiore is the second. 

Unfortunately, Mami wasn’t feeling well that day and it’s up to Kyouko to send over her school notes since they shared most of their classes together. 

The moment she steps through the mirror and standing in front of the entrance of Pomefiore, she felt like a prey getting ready to be ambushed. 

The pretty boys of Pomefiore whispers how glossy her red hair is; what product does she use? Do you think she’ll share the brand with them? Look at how powerful and confident her posture is, yet you can still see her feminine curves hold nothing back! Some wonders what her beauty and skincare routine are to be able to look so beautiful despite being a student from that roughhousing Savanaclaw. 

Kyouko couldn’t help but shiver, her skin crawls when she heard the whispers. The boys are very eager to show her around their dorm but Kyouko awkwardly interrupted them. She’s just here to see Mami to pass her notes! Their insistent to help her out in every little thing creeps her out!

Her saviour came in the form of Epel Felmier. He remembers how awkward he felt after the sorting ceremony when the other Pomefiore students all crowd around him, praising him for his looks. So without hesitation, he slide in and loudly explain that Mami send him to pick her up. Kyouko is grateful for his intervention. 

You can bet Kyouko feel something like a bull in a fine china shop the moment they head to Mami’s bedroom. Everything look so shiny... and expensive!

Kyouko help recap what she could remember in class to Mami when she pass along her notes before telling that she doesn’t believe Mami could get sick. Since they became Magical Girls, they rarely became ill. Mami assured her that she overworked herself a little, trying to keep up with classes and training Madoka and Sayaka. 

(Yes, Vil had fussed over her when Mami told him this. He gave her a list that she must follow so she could resume her classes soon.)

In a rare gesture of thoughtfulness, Kyouko offer to take over their trainning while Mami rest up. This makes Mami very happy and when she express it, Kyouko scratch her head and look away, muttering that it’s only right. 

When she left Mami’s bedroom, Kyouko throws an apple to Epel as thanks for helping her out earlier. This startles the boy and it sparks their friendship. He promises to teach Kyouko how to carved apples when they hang out next time. 

Now, Kyouko likes to playfully tease Epel when he told her that he wanted to be sorted into Savanaclaw and that he wanted to grow some muscle. For all her teasings, she does invite him to her and Jack’s work out sessions. It makes him happy so why not? Just don’t tell Vil.  

Since Kyouko very rarely visit Pomefiore, Vil and Rook heard of her through Epel and Mami. Vil and her doesn’t see eye-to-eye due to their personalities being on the opposite end of the spectrum. Kyouko absolutely have no patience to be groomed or lecture by Vil and whenever he sees her arm-wrestling with the other boys, Vil just shook his head at the lost of such beauty.

It’s a shame, Vil thinks. Kyouko is beautiful in a way that a ruby with a powerful fire inside is, but she’s just too... all over the place to even listen on how to put on a concealer properly. 

Rooks finds her fiery spirit and compassion to her friends beautiful. Like a female warrior from Afterglow Savanna. It doesn’t let him down when Kyouko couldn’t appreciate him reciting a poetry that he wrote for her. At least the girl was kind enough to wait until he was finish before running off. 

(Rook heard of the infamous brawl at the Main Street, too. Despite not being a beastmen, perhaps Kyouko is worthy of a hunt!)  

IGNIHYDE!

Honestly, Kyouko actually forgot there’s seven dorms instead of six here at NRC. It’s not her fault that it totally slips her mind that Ignihyde exist! She hardly sees any students from that dorm around campus!

According to Ruggie, they’re the odd, shut-in types that rather spend their time with their techs than people. So a dorm full of shut-in nerds in Kyouko’s opinion. 

Her opinion on Ignihyde changes when she spotted this tiny, blue robotic thing flitting around the college. The moment she spotted Ortho, her interest and attention is immediately on him. 

At first, Kyouko doesn’t know what to make of him as he follows Ortho around curiously. Is he a toy? Some high-tech butler? Who made it? 

(Kyouko is no Rook. So Ortho is actually aware that there’s someone been tailing him for a while now, but he lets Kyouko do what she wants, thinking they’re playing some sort of game) 

In the end, Kyouko just laugh sheepishly when Ortho confront her, asking what game are they playing? She admits that she has never seen anything like him before back home. 

Ortho, off course, wasted no time telling the Magical Girl that his big brother made him, how cool he is, maybe they could all play together and etc. The more Kyouko got to know Ortho, the longer she sense that this boy actually has a soul! This is not a robot, it’s a living person!

Utterly fascinate now (plus Ortho thoroughly charm her with how much he talks about his older brother. Heh, her little sister used to bragged about Kyouko to her little friends too...)

Kyouko and Ortho become friends and despite how rough she can be, she always make sure to treat the boy gently. She won’t admit it, but she loves babysitting him and Cheka, bringing them around campus to play. Sometimes, when she sits on the bench and watch them pick flowers near the garden of Pomefiore, she could see her little sister playing amongst them too. 

Idia doesn’t really know all that much about Kyouko other than what he could find from his cameras and the bare-bone information from Homura. She’s strong. She often hangs out with those two boys from Heartslabyul and their Knight. She also possess one hell of an appetite. 

So the moment Ortho burst into his bedroom, shouting about befriending the redhead girl, Idia has somewhat mixed feeling about their friendship. 1 - he worries that she would accidentally hurt him (Ortho doesn’t exactly have sturdy frames to withstand the strength of a Savanaclaw student). 2 - he doesn’t think he could handle having another pretty girl hanging around their dorm without wanting to crawl under his bedsheets forever. 

He actually let out a relief sigh when Ortho told him that Kyouko won’t barged into Ignihyde if it makes him uncomfortable, but he hopes that Idia could play with them sometimes. 

Idia promises that he will try to spend some time with them after Ortho told him how gentle Kyouko treats him and Cheka. How attentive she is to their presence despite looking bored. 

In the end, Kyouko finds the Shroud brothers alright in her books. Idia might be the nerdiest of the bunch with a sweetheart of a little brother but she can respect a dude rocking out flames for hair. 

(Idia probably self-combut if he knows that Kyouko thinks he’s cool for a nerd)     

DIASOMNIA!

After she became a Savanaclaw student, Jack had onced told her that there’s beef between their dorm against Diasomnia. Something about how Diasomnia always beat them during the college’s inter-dorm tournament, yada yada yada. If those students from Diasomnia wanna spar sometime then she’s more than happy to kick their asses. 

While walking back to her bedroom, she overheard a tense argument between Sebek and Jack that it suddenly became a point of the two challenging on another. 

So an impromptu fight between the first year Savanaclaw and Diasomnia students are scheduled at the stadium on a Saturday night. No one really knows how the first year students kept the event hush-hush from the seniors or teachers but they managed to. 

When the day arrive, most of the first year students from every dorm came to watch the fight. 

Kyouko & Jack VS Sebek (& some random Diasomnia NPC). Madoka came as well but she doesn’t want to fight unless she absolutely has too and no one in Diasomnia has the heart to push their gentle Fairy. 

The fight was brutal as the rounds went on into the night. Heartslabyul students cheer for their friends while having picnics on the bleachers, Scarabia students are trying to use Astrology to predict the winners while working along with the Octavinelle students who are running the bets, some Pomefiore students complain at how barbaric and unnecessary violent these fights are but stick around to take selfies with their friends and a couple of extrovert Ignihyde students are livestreaming the entire thing and doing commentary. 

Homura, Sayaka and Mami are seated around Madoka. Sayaka cheer for Kyouko, of course. 

When it comes to her fight against Sebek with Jack beside her, she just told him that she’ll handle the nameless Diasomnia NPC and detached her spear to attack. 

It was amazing! Kyouko live for the rush and adrenaline of the fight! Looks like they were right - those Diasomnia folks are really strong! But other than strengths, can they keep up with her? 

Kyouko knocked the nameless Diasomnia NPC out of the ring just in time to see Sebek raised his Magic Pen to call forth his lightnings. She cast a ward-like dome on Jack. When the smoke cleared, her ward remain standing. 

“Sakura-san...”

“I get it, I get it. Beat his ass, Jack. I’ll cover for ya”

It’s almost easy, really. Jack and Sebek are evenly match and Kyouko kept her promise, only lingering away from the fight. 

Funny enough, in the end, neither dorm wins when the collision of Jack’s fireball and Sebek’s lightning ray knock them both out of the ring. Even still, the audience cheer and instead of going back to their respective dorms, they actually gathered around and have a mini-party. Even the Pomefiore students were having fun.   

With good food and drinks, the tension between Diasomnia and Savanaclaw disappear eventually. At least for tonight. 

(the headmaster blows it when it was reported that the stadium is totally trashed. After that, news about that fight spread because of the livestreams. As punishment, the Savanaclaw and Diasomnia are tasked to fix the stadium. Much to the surprise of Leona and Malleus who were supervising the whole thing, their dorm mates are laughing and playfully shoving each other on the shoulders as they fix around the field.)

Malleus caught Sebek furiously practising with his sword and magic in the training hall of their dorm one day, his knight flustered and explain how masterful Kyouko wields her spear. He caught her deftly strike away every clash of the sword from the nameless NPC without breaking a sweat. It also infuriates Sebek that after knocking her opponent out of the battle, she easily snap her fingers and cast multiple powerful spells to shield Jack from his more deadly attacks. 

The way how Kyouko wield her magic and weapon simultaneously without exerting herself had Sebek begrudgingly respect her. 

When Madoka invited Malleus to her and Kyouko’s ice-cream trip, Malleus learn a little more about the Savanaclaw Brawler. She’s blunt, brash and doesn’t seem to be put off by him which is good. Though she completely steam-rolled his brooding murmurs. She admits that she doesn’t understand his fascination with gargoyles, but assures him that if they make him happy, then by all means, talk away! 

Lilia find the fire of youths’ as well as their bout of recklessness refreshing. They make him feel younger. When he spotted how Kyouko’s charisma boost Madoka’s courage and confidence little by little, Lilia likens Kyouko to a fire that not only burn enemies to ash but is also a hearth that warms one’s home. At least for these young girls. 

Like the rest of the students in NRC, Lilia has heard and seen the fight online. Kyouko’s battle was certainly impressive! In fact, it’s a good idea to have Sebek and Silver expand their sparring opponents so they could learn a thing or two. Especially from these girls. 

Silver finds the whole secret fight pointless, but since Sebek felt so passionate at the time and it’s be done with, there’s nothing else he could add. He agrees with Lilia; it’d be nice if he could clash his sword against Kyouko’s spear. He finds the weapon’s ability to attached and detached at will fascinating. How does it work? What is its range? How big can Kyouko make them? How many can she summon them at once?  

Kyouko agreed to spar with them sometimes if they paid her in food. Silver and Sebek hurried to stop Lilia from rushing to the kitchen when they heard her offer. Although Lilia pouts, the Vice Dorm Leader can easily fulfil their end of the bargain. So whenever they finish sparring, they would all sit down and munch on snacks and drinks.

After sparring for a couple of times, Kyouko finds that Sebek is actually alright. He’s just so loud and can be so passionate when it comes to Malleus. Cue teasing from Kyouko and trying to make Sebek blush whenever they hang out together. As for Silver, well, Kyouko wishes she has his ability to nap whenever and wherever without a care. Lilia is hard for Kyouko to figured out (just like Jade), but she does know that Lilia is genuine with his friendliness so she appreciates that. 

All in all, the Diasomnia boys are the morbid sort of weirdness in Kyouko’s opnion, but pretty chill for the most powerful dorm of NRC.

And beside, it’s pretty funny to see them running around their dorm trying to figure out how to do their laundries or where their Dorm Leader is.         

-

Alright, that’s a wrap for Kyouko’s part! Sorry again for the delay. This was supposed to be out in the weekend. 

[daydreaming-everyday]

Snow and Fur

(You may need to click the image for better quality)

Happy New Year to @itstrulyastrangerthing! You were my giftee for the @sincerely-us winter gift exchange! I had such a fun time painting the fanart above and writing the fanfic below. I adored your first prompt, but you will find a little bit of your second prompt in the fic. I hope you enjoy, and may the new year bring you good things! <3

Quick Disclaimer: This is an AU where Connor is still alive, and there is healthy Bandtrees!

Ao3 Link

Evan fumbled with his hands. A mix of excitement and nervousness sat inside of him.

When Zoe brought the idea of adopting a dog to him one day, he thought it was perfect. The two had more than enough time to take care of one with the holiday season. Though Evan never had any experience with pets, Zoe recalled having a golden retriever, Sadie, in her childhood.

“Excited?” Zoe asks, remaining her focus on driving. The roads were a little icy in the late December weather.

Evan nods, “A little scared, but I’m excited.”

Zoe pulls into the parking lot of the animal shelter. The cold wind welcomed Evan’s face and lungs when he opened the car door, sending a chill down his spine.

Zoe intertwines her fingers into Evan’s hand.

“You ready?”

Evan looks at Zoe’s face. She gave him a subtle, reassuring smile. It was almost as her calm demeanor was seeping through her fingertips, transferring it to Evan’s hand.

Evan squeezed her hand tighter, nodding.

The shelter had a thick odar hanging in the air when the couple walked in. A lady greeted them, and Zoe explained what they were looking for. She led them to an array of dog kennels. Each dog they looked at, the lady told them their story.

Zoe looked up at Evan each time. What do you think?

Let’s keep looking. Evan would reply by shaking his head.

Soon, a dog finally caught Evan’s eyes.

A smaller dog sat in the corner of the cage. It’s back was to them, so all you could see was it’s thin light brown coat.

“This is Buddy,” the kennel lady explained to him, “six years old. We aren’t quite sure what breed he is, but we believe he is part corgi and part beagle.”

“How did he end up here?” Evan asked.

“Previous family abandoned him when he got older. They preferred cuter puppies, and traded him for a much younger, purebred dog.”

Evan’s heart ached for the dog, even feeling a little sympathy. His own father left, and traded him and his mom for another family. Evan remembered feeling hurt because of it.

Evan knew exactly what Buddy needed.

“Buddy barely moves though,” the kennel lady says, “there are more dogs over here.”

“Um… could I try to…?”

The kennel lady shrugs before unlocking the cage.

Evan slowly enters the cage. Buddy turned his head slightly, looking at Evan. Evan noticed he had amber eyes.

Evan crouched down. He extended his hand outwards, towards Buddy. The dog slowly, and cautiously, stood up, and began to approach Evan. Buddy extended his muzzle to his hand, sniffing Evan’s fingers.

Buddy inched closer. Evan slowly lowered his hand on Buddy’s back. Buddy tensed at Evan’s touch. The dog looked at Evan, and Evan worried he startled Buddy. However, Buddy relaxed, and melted in his touch.

“Well would you look at that,” the kennel lady said, “Buddy usually doesn’t like to be touched by others.”

Evan looks at Zoe, who is smiling at him.

“Can we get this one?” Evan asks.

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

-

Evan was getting used to having a dog around their apartment, and Buddy was used to having a home.

“You two look comfy,” Zoe smiles, holding two mugs of hot chocolate in her hands. Both mugs visibly had tall whipped cream dollops, and were sprinkled with crushed peppermint candy canes.

Evan was on the couch, Buddy on his lap. They were wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, and Buddy was enjoying the gentle scratches Evan was giving him.

Buddy had started to be relaxed when Evan or Zoe had touched him. The dog had let it’s guard down to them, and was more and more cheerful each coming day.

“Come join us,” Evan patted the spot next to him.

“Hold on, I need a photo of my two favorite boys,” Zoe pulls out her phone, setting the hot chocolate on the nearby coffee table.

Though Evan was usually camera shy, he gave Zoe a huge, goofy smile, making Zoe laugh as she snapped the photo. She then sits next to Evan on the couch. Evan wraps her some of his blanket.

“This may be my new favorite photo,” Zoe comments, “look how cute you both are.”

Evan blushes as Zoe puts her phone away. She reaches over to Evan’s lap, stroking Buddy’s fur. Buddy licks her wrist in return.

“Are we ready to start movie night?” Evan asks, sipping his drink.

“Yep,” Zoe says, popping open a fresh bag of plain popcorn. Buddy looked at Zoe, eyeing the snack. Zoe passed him a kernel. Buddy graciously accepted the treat.

“Zoe!”

“Relax,” Zoe says, “it’s not going to hurt him. Connor and I used to feed our old dog popcorn all the time.”

Evan could imagine Zoe and Connor as children, taking turns to feed Sadie handfuls of popcorn. He could also imagine Cynthia reminding them to stop feeding their dog (of course, they wouldn’t listen).

“Okay. What type of movie do you want to watch?” Evan asks, clicking the remote, scrolling through different genres.

They decided on a dog movie. It seemed fitting, since Buddy was in their arms to watch it. As Evan clicked ‘play,’ he curled into Zoe’s side.

“This is the best way to beat the cold,” Evan says, taking in the warmth of Zoe’s body.

“I’d have to agree.”

-

“He looks ridiculous.”

“Everyone needs to be bundled up,” Evan says, picking up Buddy, “including pets.”

Evan had dressed Buddy in a thick winter coat. Booties were on each of his paws, and the outfit was topped with a knitted dog hat.

“Besides, I think he is rocking the outfit,” Evan jokes.

Zoe hooks the dog leash to Buddy’s collar, “Whatever you say dear. You ready for a walk Bud?!”

Buddy wagged his tail, and began to pant excitly.

“Before we go, one more person has to put on some winter clothes,” Evan eyes Zoe.

“I’m wearing a coat!” Zoe exclaims, “and it’s just a walk.”

Evan grabs a scarf and hat, “It’s still twenty degrees outside. We don’t want mommy to be cold, right Buddy?”

Buddy barks in reply.

“Fine,” Zoe allows Evan to wrap her scarf around her neck, and slip her hat on her head. Once he’s done, he gives Zoe a quick kiss on the cheek.

Just as Evan is about to open the door, Zoe grabs his hand, pulling him closer to her.

“You missed,” Zoe smirks.

Evan closes his eyes, and leans into Zoe, pressing his lips to hers. Zoe’s hands wrap around the bare spots of his neck that his scarf did not cover. Evan a breath hitches at the touch, and he wraps his arms around her lower back.

A yip interrupted them. Zoe and Evan break apart. Buddy was patiently sitting on the floor, looking utterly betrayed. Zoe and Evan blush and giggle.

Zoe gives Evan one last kiss before opening the door, the cool air welcoming their faces. Buddy quickly jumped outside, hopping into the fresh, fluffy snow from the previous night. He rolled around until snow covered his muzzle.

Buddy led the way during the walk, eager to look at everything ahead of him. Evan had his arm linked to Zoe’s, admiring the winter wonderland in front of them. Dark pine trees were coated with snow. The sky was blue, and not it’s normal grey. The sun was brightly shining on their faces, and snowflakes were lazily descending from the sky.

“The weather is nice,” Evan says.

Zoe nods, “Buddy is enjoying it.”

Buddy was attempting to catch falling snowflakes into his mouth. Evan and Zoe giggled.

The only downside to the winter weather is that when snow mixes with a dirt road, then it becomes muddy. Mud puddles were formed all over the road they were walking on.

Unfortunately, Buddy jumped right into a puddle.

Evan and Zoe gasped, but Buddy loved it. He rolled around and splashed in the sticky dirt.

Evan lifted him up, holding him arms length out. Buddy was smiling as mud was dripping off him.

“Looks like someone will need a bath.”

-

Zoe carefully lowered Buddy into their bathtub. Buddy had a look of fear on his face. When Zoe mentioned that he needed a bath, Buddy did whatever it took to avoid it.

Even if it meant trailing mud into their apartment.

“See Bud? It’s okay,” Zoe says once his paws dipped into the water.

Buddy splashed the water, still uneasy.

“I cleaned up all the mud,” Evan enters the bathroom, “how are things going in here?”

“I’m just trying to get Buddy to calm down.”

Evan sits next to Zoe. He reaches his hand over to Buddy, scratching his ears. Buddy was still tense as Zoe gently set him down.

“See? Not that bad,” Evan assures the dog.

Zoe squirts dog shampoo into her hand. She allows Buddy to smell it before applying it, lightly massaging it into his fur. The soap helped the mud slip off with ease. Buddy became more relaxed with Evan’s presence and Zoe’s gentle motions.

“The warm water must feel nice after being in the cold,” Evan says, helping Zoe rinse the soap off.

Zoe wiggles her eyebrows, “What if we did this once we finish cleaning Buddy up?”

“I like the way you think.”

A mist of water droplets hit the couple as Buddy began to shake himself dry. The two turn to each other, before laughing.

“Guess he already showered us off,” Zoe chuckles.

Evan reaches for a soft towel, and Zoe lifts Buddy out of the tub. Evan dries the dog off before wrapping him up.

-

Evan was thankful that the cafe allowed dogs.

“You ready to see mommy perform?” Evan cooed, holding Buddy in one arm, and a bouquet of lavender and carnation flowers in another.

Zoe had gotten a gig to perform at a winter event at a local cafe. Evan was ecstatic to watch her perform (despite listening to her practice a couple times).

Evan finds an open table. A waiter comes by to ask him what he would like, and he just orders a tea.

The show began, and numerous small and local musicians arrived on stage, each singing a song, and playing many different types of instruments.

When it was Zoe’s turn to arrive on the stage, Evan’s heart sprang with excitement. As Zoe got her acoustic guitar tuned, her eyes traced around the crowd until they found Evan and Buddy. Once she did, Evan moved Buddy’s paw to make it look like he was waving at her. A smile appeared on Zoe’s face.

Zoe began to straighten up, and took in a deep breath. She began to strike the first chords of White Winter Hymnal. She began to sing softly and smoothly.

“I was following

I was following

I was following

I was following

I was following the pack

All swallowed in their coats

With scarves of red tied ‘round their throats

To keep their little heads

From falling in the snow

And I turned ‘round and there you go

And Michael you would fall

And turn the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.”

Zoe stopped singing, still strumming her guitar. The guitar produced a soft, warm sound. She hummed along to the song. Evan closed his eyes, enjoying just the sound of her voice and guitar.

Zoe repeated the chorus a couple more times before finishing the song. The audience, including Evan, clapped for Zoe. Buddy began to howl, cheering on Zoe. The audience chuckled.

Zoe grinned before exiting the stage, allowing the next performer to take the stage. Evan left his seat, following Zoe behind the stage.

She beamed at Evan when he approached her.

“Amazing job! You sounded… gorgeous,” Evan compliments.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Buddy also thought you sounded amazing,” Evan states.

Zoe holds her arms out, and Evan places Buddy in them. Buddy nuzzled into Zoe’s chest.

“I also got you these,” Evan displays the flowers to Zoe.

“Thanks Ev,” Zoe leans to him, and Evan pulls her into a hug.

“Do you think you can sing for us again tonight?”

“Always for you two.”

-

“Evan! How does Buddy look?”

Evan adjusted his tie as he looked over at Buddy, who was in Zoe’s arms. He wore a sparkly black bow tie. Evan and Zoe were planning to take him to the Murphys’ annual New Year’s Eve party. He would be able to meet Cynthia, Larry, Connor, Heidi, and their friends.

“Awwww, he looks so handsome,” Evan pet Buddy’s head.

“I tried putting the rest of his tuxedo on, but someone wasn’t cooperating,” Zoe says.

Buddy gives them a guilty look. Evan laughs.

“I think he looks amazing,” Evan says, “and so do you.”

“It isn’t too flashy, is it?” Zoe asked.

She wore a black top with a metallic gold skirt. It matched Evan’s black suit and gold tie.

“Nope. You look perfect. Don’t you agree Buddy?”

Buddy licks Zoe’s face.

“Thanks Bud,” Zoe presses a kiss to Buddy’s head.

“Could I get one?” Evan smirks.

“Buddy, could you give daddy a kiss?” Zoe teases, reaching the dog towards Evan.

“Zoeeeee,” Evan whines, giggling as Buddy licks his face as well.

Zoe playfully sticks out her tongue before kissing his cheek. Zoe sets Buddy down. Zoe noticed her phones started to buzz on the table. She picked it up. There were numerous different texts from her mom.

Cynthia: Are you and Evan coming?

Cynthia: The party has already started.

Zoe looked at the time. They were thirty minutes past the time they were supposed to arrive.

“Hey Evan.”

“Hm?” Evan asks as he combs his hair.

“We were supposed to be at my parent’s house thirty minutes ago.”

Evan stops, “I knew we shouldn’t have waited for Buddy to wake up.”

“In my defense, he was sleeping on my lap. What was I supposed to do, move and wake him up?”

“Fair point.”

-

“There you two are!” Cynthia scolds Zoe and Evan when they walk into the Murphy house, wearing a dark dress and holding a wine glass in tack, “what took you two so long?”

Before Zoe can explain, Cynthia sees Buddy in her arms.

“Did you guys get a dog?!”

“Mom, meet Buddy!” Zoe says.

“Well aren’t you the cutest!” Cynthia gushes over Buddy. Zoe sets Buddy onto the ground. He sniffs Cynthia curiously before allowing Cynthia to touch him. He curled up against Cynthia’s touch.

“He’s also such a sweetheart!” Cynthia coos.

Cynthia calls for everyone. At the moment Cynthia said the word “dog,” everyone quickly rushed to see. The moment eyes were laid on Buddy, he was all anyone could rave about.

-

“I think he’s enjoying the attention,” Evan chuckles.

Jared, Alana, and Connor were crouched on the ground. Jared got the brilliant idea of using his tie for a game of tug of war. Alana and Connor were cheering Buddy on as he pulled the tie, determined to win. Earlier, Larry slid small pieces of chicken for Buddy under the table during dinner, and Cynthia and Heidi had been showering him with belly rubs and kisses throughout the night. No one even noticed when midnight hit the clock. All eyes were on Buddy.

Evan and Zoe were sitting on the couch, watching Buddy like proud parents.

“He’s the star of the show,” Zoe agrees.

“I’m glad we adopted him,” Evan says, resting his head on Zoe’s shoulder, “he makes everyone happy. He makes me happy.”

“He makes me happy too,” Zoe plants a kiss to his forehead, returning her focus to Buddy, who tore the tie out of Jared’s hands. Alana scooped the dog in her arms as Jared claimed he let the dog win.

Evan smiled, closing his eyes. He wanted to savor this moment forever.

[have-each-others-six]

time will tell, she’ll see us through (pt. one)

hey, it’s been a while, huh?

welcome to my first fic in like six months! this is another multichap, probably around six parts- let me know how often you’d like parts to come out. right now i’m thinking daily, but i don’t know, so if you have an opinion let me know in the replies!

okay, that’s enough of me talking. enjoy cathy angst!

tw: death, blood, beheading later in the chapter

***

“...yf ye be lerned in that scyence that ys possyble ye may of one word make a whole sentence, and yet nott at all tymes arryve at the true meanyng of the writer, as yt appyrs by thys your exposycyon apon my wrytyng.”

-Catherine Parr, in a letter to Thomas Seymour just before her marriage to Henry VIII

***

When Catherine Parr first notices she’s lost her manuscript, it’s four in the morning and she’s the only one awake.

She’s biting on her lip as she finishes the last page, blue pen smearing under her hand as her scrawling handwriting marches crookedly across the paper. This story- the story of the queens as separate from Henry, what they actually did with their lives, who they really were, their story- is the culmination of literal centuries’ worth of work.

If she doesn’t write this down, then they’ll be forgotten, lost to the wastes of time as simpering mistresses who were merely accessories to Henry’s reign.

The show is good, but the show is temporary, the legacy of that is temporary, and this manuscript is something physical that she can hold in her hands.

The last line is scribbled on the cheap notebook paper she’d had to use for the last page. It’s almost anticlimactic, how fast it is, and Cathy leans back in disbelief, the pen hanging limply in her cramping fingers.

“It’s done,” she whispers aloud, and her earbuds are still playing the instrumental hardcore rock she listens to while working, and the street outside is still crowded with London traffic, and Anna is still snoring down the hall.

Everything is exactly the same as it was a few minutes ago, except everything is completely different, shifted into a sharper focus through a new lens.

She’d started writing the last page at rehearsal, ripping a page from the awfully torn-up notebook that tech used to read lighting cues because her full manuscript was still in the greenroom, scribbling down line after line of her sudden idea as the other girls did vocal warm-ups around her.  

“What page is this, five thousand?”Anna had joked, sitting down next to her onstage and nudging her with her shoulder, looking down at the slanted scrawl on the ruled lines.

“It certainly feels like it,” Catherine had replied absentmindedly, completely focused on the page in front of her as Anne did handsprings onstage in beat with the warm-up tongue twister, and Anna had left and let her be, knowing how she needed to get her ideas down if she was going to focus on the show.

What she told Anna wasn’t just placating. It had felt like it, honestly. This has been her whole life for… well, her whole life. And now it’s four in the morning, and she’s listening to heavy metal music, and it’s done.

She reaches over to where the rest of her manuscript sits on her desk, her eyes locked with pride on the last line of the page, but her hand lands on an empty table.

A pit yawns open in her stomach. No, no, no. It has to be there. It’s always there. She looks up, hoping against hope that her hands are deceiving her, but her eyes confirm it. Her manuscript- her life’s work- is gone.

Catherine gets to her feet quickly, going to her desk drawer and ripping it open, but it’s not there either. It’s not on her bookshelf, or on her bedcovers, or under her dresser- it’s like it’s disappeared. 

She finds the papers in her desk again and spreads them out on the ground, kneeling in the center of the chaos and rifling through them frantically. Half-finished short stories and spindly outlines of landscapes flash past, but her thick stack of paper that she’d tied together with an old piece of ribbon remains missing.

She tosses aside cards and songs and tirades written in French, but it becomes clear that the manuscript isn’t in her room, and she sinks back on her heels. There are tears on her face and panic in her heart, and her mind races feverishly as she tries to think of anywhere else it could be. She’s only dimly aware of her own foggy exhaustion.

As she digs through the papers on her floor, the words and pictures on the pages start to blur together in her hysteria, and it’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone-

“Cathy?”

The voice is tired and soft, and when Catherine looks up she sees Aragon standing there.

“Everyone’s going to wonder where you are when they get up,” Cathy points out in a quiet voice in lieu of a greeting, her cadence trembling slightly. Aragon usually gets up before everyone else and makes them breakfast.

“They won’t wake up for another two hours,” Aragon replies calmly, picking her way carefully through the scattered piles of paper to get to Catherine, a shivering, unstable island in the sea of words. “What happened?”

“My manuscript is gone,” Catherine whispers lowly, grief thick in her throat, and Aragon shifts closer to avoid falling on any of the papers, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“What?” she asks quietly, surprised. “I thought it was-”

“It was everything,” Cathy interjects softly. “It was all of my memories, and everything about our lives, and everything about- about Mary that I could piece together,” she says, her voice breaking on the name of her tiny daughter. “It was everything,” she repeats.

“Don’t use the past tense yet,” Aragon says gently. “It can still be everything. We’ll find it, I promise.”

“How can you promise?” Catherine asks, shaking her head. “How do you know?”

Aragon shrugs and gives her a gentle smile. “I don’t. I believe, though, which is almost as good.”

“Your confidence is incredibly reassuring,” Catherine grumbles, running a hand over her face to try and bring herself into a rational frame of mind, attempting to organize her papers back into some sort of categorized piles. “Where could it even have gone?”

“Did you take it anywhere recently?” her godmother asks, gathering up a sheaf of stories in her arms and sorting them into a desk drawer.

Cathy nods quickly, snapping her fingers in realization. “Yeah! Um, yeah, yeah, yeah, I took it to the theater last night, and then before that to the coffee shop. But I know I took it back home,” she says, the sudden energy leaving her body, certain of her memory of placing it in her bag.

“Well, it’s not here, so we may as well try it,” Aragon replies with a shrug. “However, I’m going to suggest that you try and get just a little bit of sleep. I know that you don’t want to,” she says, holding up her hand to interrupt Catherine’s protests, “but I think your memory might be more reliable if you sleep for a while. I’ll make some breakfast for when you wake up, and then I’ll drive you to the theater. Deal?”

Catherine sighs. “Fine,” she mumbles, trying to hide her yawn, but Aragon notices it and takes her to her bed, tucking her in and fluffing the pillow.

“Sleep, darling. I’ll wake you up when breakfast is ready,” she says gently, pressing a soft kiss into Cathy’s hair. “You’ll feel better. I promise.”

Grumbling, Catherine pulls the comforter a little tighter around herself for security and buries her face in her pillow, her mind racing as she thinks about where her manuscript could possibly be and if it’s been stolen, or ripped, or if pages are missing-

Eventually, her anxiety sputters out like a bad engine, the panicked thoughts appearing farther and farther apart, and she falls into a fitful sleep. When she’s scared, her nightmares are always more vivid, and today is no exception.

She’s standing in a castle.

It’s always a castle.

Sometimes, Henry is there, screaming at her as his old, wrinkled face turns purple with rage. Sometimes, it’s Mary, her little girl, wandering through the hallways and calling desperately for her mama.

And sometimes it’s just Cathy, all alone in the dark.

Tonight, though, she’s sitting in a dining hall, the other queens seated in ornate chairs along the table. Their faces are all lit by the candles that are dripping wax on the tablecloth, their features garish and overdrawn in the too-deep light.

Cathy is having a conversation with Katherine, realizing that they’re speaking in the ancient English of their old lives with its heavier vowels and thicker consonants, but she’s distracted from this thought when she feels a shiver scrabble its way up her spine for some reason as she glances around the room. The hearth crackles as it should, the heavy drapes let in the watery light from outside, and every so often Anne will laugh and the sound will carry over to where Catherine is sitting.

It reminds of her days as a royal with Henry, but she and these women were never all in the same room together in their old lives, kept apart by circumstances beyond their control.

She’s lost in thought about the past, her conversation with Kit having tapered off, when she hears a scream that sends an awful chill down her spine.

It’s Aragon.

Her godmother’s body crumples unnaturally, the expression on her face contorting into one of anguish, and suddenly Catherine knows that she’s watching her die. A half-scream gurgles out of Aragon’s throat as Cathy tries to get up from her chair, but for some reason she can’t move, a force much greater than she can oppose keeping her where she sits. 

No one else is reacting, even as blood dribbles awfully out of the side of Aragon’s mouth and she twitches and jerks uncontrollably, a startling juxtaposition in the glamour of the austere hall. 

Cathy needs to wake up, she has to wake up, she can’t just sit here trapped and watch Aragon die, but when she closes her eyes tightly and opens them again she’s still sitting at the head of the table, her heart pounding in her chest.

She falls still after a few minutes, and Catherine’s unable to contain her scream anymore. “Is anyone going to help her?” she shrieks, gesturing at Aragon’s unmoving form, panic settling horribly in her chest as all of the other girls just tilt their heads and look at her curiously.

“Who?” Anne asks her in the old tongue, somehow sounding like both her modern and first self at once, furrowing her brow in courteous confusion with a pleasant smile, but the typical wicked spark of mischief in her eye is absent, heightening Catherine’s anxiety. She processes the question a little after it’s asked, and dread seeps into her mind once she realizes what it means.

“Catherine of Aragon,” Cathy says slowly. “Henry’s… Henry’s first wife. Henry divorced her for you.”

“The name doesn’t ring a bell,” Anne says with a polite shrug, the phrase sounding anachronistic in her mouth. “I haven’t a clue who you’re talking about.”

“Anne, come on,” Cathy pleads desperately. “You can’t forget her, she’s a part of your life- of all of our lives.”

“I don’t remember any Catherine of Aragon,” Anne replies, voice shifting into a firmer tone. “I apologize, but I really don’t.”

“She’s right there, for God’s sake!” Catherine shouts, finally able to get to her feet, and she gestures at the body, oh God, Aragon’s body, with her eyes rolled back into her head and blood dripping grotesquely from the corner of her half-ajar mouth, and Anne looks offended at her outburst. 

“You don’t speak to a lady in that manner,” she says coolly. “You of all people should-”

She’s building towards an argument, and Catherine starts to feel some sense of relief as Anne’s familiar temper clearly starts to rise within her, but then a sharp, clean line draws itself across her neck and her head lands on the floor.

Cathy screams again, Anne’s blood coating her hands, and no one reacts, continuing to make respectful conversation and discuss benign things like hunting grounds and the weather.

“She- she-” Catherine sputters, unable to form a full thought in her terror, because Anne’s body is still slumped in the chair while her head is on the ground, dark eyes reflecting the light of the fire.

“What, dear?” Jane asks, looking at her with concern. 

“Anne is dead! Can’t you… can’t you see it?” Cathy asks desperately, voice fractured with fear, and Anne’s blood spreads through the carpet, soaking Cathy’s shoes.

“Who’s Anne?” Jane replies, looking thoroughly puzzled. “I don’t think I’ve ever known an Anne. Perhaps I had a maid named Anne once?”

“Anne Boleyn!” Cathy screams. “She was beheaded on charges of adultery!”

“There’s no need to scream, love,” Jane says gently. “I don’t think any of us ever knew this Anne girl, but we’re sorry for your loss, we truly are,” she tells her, and the other two queens nod sympathetically.

“You really don’t remember her?” Cathy asks softly, fearfully, but before they can respond Jane lets out a guttural cry, back arched in devastating pain, and then falls completely silent, her eyelids twitching unnaturally.

“No, I don’t think we do,” Anna replies with a genial smile, looking as if she can’t hear the low groan that sounds from Jane’s chest, her breath getting raspier with every second that passes. “Katherine, have you ever heard of an Anne Boleyn?”

Kit shakes her head, her own cousin’s name seemingly unfamiliar to her as Jane’s body begins convulsing with fever across the table. “Sorry, Cath,” she says apologetically. “We really just don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Jane seizes, and Catherine rushes to her side and tries to keep her still but she’s beyond help, her pulse stalling under Catherine’s fingertips and her shuddering breaths shivering into silence.

“No…” Cathy whispers, her eyes filling with tears. “No, no, come on, Jane, come on.”

She vaguely registers Katherine asking who Jane is, but she can’t focus on that or her heartbreak will spill over and she won’t be able to save the rest of them.

“We need to make sure Anna’s all right,” she says urgently, standing up quickly and abandoning Jane’s body, but when she turns around Katherine is looking at her quizzically and Anna’s body is limp where she sits.

Catherine almost doesn’t bother to check, knowing what she’ll find, but she knows her friend deserves a proper send-off so she walks over anyway, her feet feeling like they’re made of lead.

Anna is dead, her hands cold and hanging off the arms of the chair- Cathy’s liveliest friend is still and silent, the light stolen from her eyes, and Cathy doesn’t even have enough space to process the grief that’s coming in waves from every death she’s witnessing.

Cathy knows what’s coming next. She whips around and rushes over to Katherine, and she feels her hand graze against a corpse and she’s definitely running over patches of blood-stained carpet, but she can’t stop. She needs to make it to her before whatever this ungodly curse is takes her too.

“What’s going on?” Katherine asks, completely confused, and Catherine just pulls her close, tucking the girl’s head under her chin in a final attempt to protect her.

“Please, God, don’t take this child,” she whispers. “Please.”

Her pleas are in vain, however, and suddenly a huge gash rips its way across Katherine’s neck. The girl screams in agony, her body curling against Cathy’s, and before she can comfort her or try and delay the inevitable, another cut slices across her neck and her head falls off onto the floor.

Catherine jerks away from the now-headless body, her dress dripping with blood, and she gets to her feet slowly, swaying where she stands.

She goes to Aragon’s body and kneels in front of her godmother.

There’s a Latin prayer of mourning that they would say together on the days that the absence of their children felt like it was a physical weight on their shoulders, an attempt to try and soothe the grieving ache for their babies that never leaves.

This grief is fresh, not so much an ache as a stabbing, violent pain, but she begins to say the prayer anyway because Aragon deserves a proper farewell.

“Re… requiem æternam d-dona ei, Domine et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace.” She swallows, and then says the English. “Eternal rest… eternal rest grant unto her, Lord, a-and let per… perpetual light shine upon her. May- may she rest in peace. Amen.”

She walks to the bodies of the rest of her friends- her family- and mumbles blessings for their souls to travel safely through whatever afterlife they believe in. It’s nearly impossible, to look at these people who had been so alive and bright and true and see them broken and glassy-eyed and tinged gray, but she can’t leave them without saying goodbye.

As she says her sort-of prayers, the faces of the bodies begin to become strange in her mind- unfamiliar. When she gets to Jane, she has to think for a moment before she can remember the woman’s name, and another moment before she can remember her connection to her.

Dread shoots through her, ice-cold and immobilizing, as she realizes what’s happening.

She’s forgetting.

Just like Anne, just like Jane, just like all of them did as Cathy watched them die one by one. She’s going to forget them. 

Lost to the wastes of time.

She needs to remember all of it, every little thing about them, she needs to hold six people’s history inside of her instead of just one, because if she doesn’t then they’ll all just disappear and she doesn’t know how to live without these girls.

That’s why the manuscript is so important, if she’s being honest with herself. She wants to tell their story so she can’t forget them, so that no matter what happens there’s a tangible record of their lives.

Focusing hard on her memories, she struggles to hold onto them, but it’s like cupping water in her hands, the past slipping away into some unreachable part of her mind, and she feels tears gathering in her eyes but by the time they fall she can’t remember why she’s crying.

She’s terrified- she doesn’t know who these bodies are, surrounding her, and she feels like she should remember, she feels like she has to remember, but she can’t, and when she tries to run she trips over someone’s long-cold arm, and she’s falling, falling, falling-

Her eyes fly open.