#i was asked if i would be willing to go and i said no

[himasgod]

Can you do one where azul want to make a deal with us for a reason ( you can pick ) but we keep rejecting it all the time?

AZUL X READER

Where he insists you to sign a contract

Where Azul needs to get your attention and form a bond with you, and only knows how to do so through contract proposals…

For the fourth time that week, Azul cornered you outside of the cafeteria.

"You again?" you asked, balancing a tray with a sandwich

Azul adjusted his glasses, that merchant-smile never quite reaching his eyes.

“Ah, just the person I was hoping to see. I have a proposal that I believe would greatly benefit you—”

“Nope,” you said simply, walking past him like this was a regularly scheduled interaction. Which it was.

Azul froze for a second before gliding after you, unbothered.

“You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“You’re right. I haven’t. And I’m going to keep it that way.”

You slid into your seat as Ace blinked from across the table.

“You just shut him down like that?” he whispered.

“Every time,” you replied.

Azul stood beside your table like a wet cat someone tossed out into the rain. Composed, but deeply offended.

“I merely wish to assist you with your… less than stellar grades in Crewel's subject. I could offer you a personalized study plan, tutoring sessions, and perhaps even answers—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupted, munching on your sandwich.

“In exchange, I owe you a vague but suspicious favor to be determined at a later date, signed in blood or something.”

Azul’s smile twitched. “Ink. But close.”

“Still no.”

It kept happening.

He tried offering you a deal to get out of Vargas's class (“No.”), better potion ingredients (“Still no.”), and even limited-edition desserts from Mostro Lounge (“Azul, that’s just bribery with extra steps.”)

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t intrigue you. The way his smiles were rehearsed, the way he always had a backup plan.

There was something almost sad about how badly he wanted people to need him.

Like he didn’t know how to be wanted without strings attached.

One evening, he tried again.

You were studying near Octavinelle dorm when he appeared like a shadow.

“This will be my last offer,” he said quietly. “I know you want a way to contact your world. I can give you that.”

That one actually made you pause.

“...How?”

“I’ve found a rare communication mirror. It may allow messages to pass through dimensions. Temporarily. If—”

“No.”

Azul's smile faltered completely this time.

“But—why?” His voice was low. Genuine.

You looked up at him, eyes soft for once.

“Because I don’t want anything from you that costs me more than you’re willing to admit. And I think you’re the one who needs to ask why you’re so desperate to tie me down with a contract.”

His lips parted, and for the first time, Azul Ashengrotto didn’t know what to say.

You closed your book and stood. “If you want me around, you can just ask.”

And with that, you walked off.

However, you turned around, with a small smile.

"Tomorrow, instead of asking me if I want to sign a contract, ask me if I want to have a date with you that has nothing to do with signing papers. We'll see the answer then."

Leaving Azul in silence, a breeze tousling his hair—no contracts, no ink, just the bare possibility that someone might like him… without the deal.

[ladyfocalors]

4 Easy Ways to Fluster Riddle (and 1 Time He Left You Speechless)

summary: 4 times you flustered Riddle and 1 time he got you back.

pairing: riddle rosehearts x gn!reader

warnings: none.

word count: 2.4k

don't know what possessed me to write this. i am in my stupidly sweet soft fluff cheesy romantic era. maybe this is me trying to compensate for reading too many angst fics on ao3.

i. You compliment him in front of everyone.

Unbirthday parties were not unusual for you. Spending almost all your time with Ace and Deuce meant you had an open invitation at all times, and today was no different.

Everything was proper as it could be until Grim sneezed directly into a teacup, causing a minor commotion.

"Ugh, Grim," you groaned, reaching for a napkin.

"Myah! Not my fault somethin' went up my nose!" Grim shot back, waving his tiny paws in indignation.

Ace snickered from next to you. "Real nice, furball. I think Cater got that on camera."

"You wanna say that again, tomato head?" Grim growled, but you held him back.

"Tomato head?" Ace only grinned wider. "What, did you run out of good insults?"

"Can we not start a fight at an unbirthday party?" Deuce said, eyeing Riddle from the corner of his eye.

"What? I’m behaving." Ace said.

Across the table, Riddle cleared his throat. "If you’re quite finished with your antics, I’d like to remind you that proper decorum should be maintained at the table. That includes not flinging insults across it." His eyes flickered briefly toward Grim, who had, thankfully, stopped snarling at Ace.

For a moment everything went back to normal again but Ace decided to stir up trouble.

"So," he started, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin, "I’ve been thinking–"

"Oh, since when did you start to think?" you teased, snickering into the palm of your hand.

Ace ignored your jab, looking around at the others. "Since we’re all here, why don’t we ask some questions?"

Everyone gave him a look.

"Oh, relax. It’s not like I’m gonna break a rule. But I do have a good question. One that everyone has to answer."

The curiosity around the table piqued, conversations pausing. Riddle set his teacup down, looking unamused but willing to hear Ace out. "As long as it’s appropriate."

"Totally," Ace said, all in false innocence, before he grinned. "So. Who’s the best-looking person in Heartslabyul?"

"Myah, obviously me!" Grim chimed in immediately.

"What–" You shook your head. "Grim, you don’t even count! You're a Ramshackle student!"

"Why not? I live in Heartslabyul whenever we visit!"

"That’s not how this works!"

"That’s totally how it works!"

"Okay, okay, real answers now," Ace turned to Deuce. "Deuce?"

Deuce sighed. "I don’t really think about that stuff, but I guess Trey?"

"You just respect him," Ace said.

"That’s part of it, yeah."

Riddle shook his head. "This is a completely frivolous discussion."

Ace grinned. "Aw, come on, Housewarden. What’s the harm?" Then his gaze flickered to you. "And what about you, Prefect? Who’s the best looking in Heartslabyul?"

Now you were the one on the spot.

"Why are you even asking me?" you asked.

"Answer it, Prefect." Ace pressed, his grin widening. "Unless you have something to hide."

You sighed and glanced around, scanning the table. Grim was not an option to begin with. Cater was handsome in the totally Magicam-worthy way as he put it, but so was Trey in that grandmothers-would-also-compliment-him way. Ace had a certain charm if you completely ignored all the stuff that came out his mouth, and Deuce looked endearing, sweet boy and had that ex-delinquent appeal going on if you ignored that he was hot headed and a little dumb.

Your gaze landed on Riddle again. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed together as if bracing for whatever nonsense was coming next.

You mentally grimaced before saying, "I think it’s Riddle."

A silence fell over the table. Everyone paused.

"What?!" Ace asked loudly, unable to hide his surprise.

"Why?" Deuce added.

You leaned on your palm, tilting your head. "Riddle takes care of himself better than most people I know. He’s always neat, prim, and... uh, proper—that’s the word! Even when things get out of hand, he still manages to look... well, proper. And it’s not just the way he looks, he also carries himself with that same energy!"

Another beat of silence stretched across the table.

Riddle’s face was red. "Thank you, Prefect," he stammered, straightening in his seat. "But this is hardly an appropriate topic for an Unbirthday Party."

Cater let out a low whistle at that.

"Didn’t think you had it in you, Prefect," Ace teased, nudging you. "I was expecting something basic, but that was some real high-class flattery."

"It’s the truth."

Riddle cleared his throat sharply. "This conversation is over."

"But not before we get your answer!" Ace pointed out. "C’mon, Housewarden, who’s your pick?"

Riddle sent him a glare. "Be quiet, or it's off with your head, Trappola."

"Man, I was just trying to start some drama."

"Keep your mouth shut for once, Ace." you said, kicking him from under the table.

The conversation then moved on, but the warmth on Riddle’s face did not.

ii. You fall asleep on his shoulder.

Your head drooped slightly as you struggled to focus on the words before you and the words being told to you. The long day of classes, paired with Grim’s endless energy and the usual bouts of trouble Ace and Deuce dragged you in, had drained you completely. You had started this study session with the best of intentions, but the combination of warmth, silence, and exhaustion made your eyelids unbearably heavy.

Riddle was in the middle of explaining something when your head tipped forward, only for you to jerk upright again.

Riddle paused mid-sentence, watching as you blinked sluggishly, clearly losing your battle against sleep. "Prefect," he said, his voice demanding your immediate attention. "Are you even listening?"

"Mmh." You gave a half-hearted nod, though it was obvious you hadn’t processed a word. "Something about… cans of tuna?"

Riddle sighed. "I said nothing about tuna. I was explaining–" He stopped himself, watching as you blinked even slower than before. "Perhaps we should take a break."

You made a small sound, too tired to speak. You just needed to rest your eyes for one second, and you'll go back to studying. Just a second and you'd be up again…

Then, before Riddle could say anything else, you slumped sideways, head landing directly on his shoulder.

Riddle went completely rigid.

His grip on his pen tightened. His mind stuttered, words vanishing from his tongue. His first instinct was to tell you off—straighten up, maintain proper posture, do not fall asleep on someone at a study table—but when he glanced down at you, mouth halfway open to scold, he hesitated.

Your breathing was slow. The tension in your shoulders had eased, and without the usual spark of mischief, exasperation or exhaustion in your expression, you looked very peaceful.

Riddle swallowed hard.

This was improper and very undignified. If anyone saw him, it would be terrible.

Now, what was he supposed to do?

Despite various thoughts,he did not move.

Slowly and carefully, he turned his head forward again, his face burning. His hands fidgeted with the edges of his book, but his previous train of thought had been completely derailed.

Your weight against his shoulder was surprisingly light, warmth seeping through the fabric of his uniform. It wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it was… comforting, if he could call it that?

Nobody had slept on him before.

Minutes had passed. Maybe more. He was too flustered to keep track. Finally, when he was certain his face couldn’t get any redder, he cleared his throat.

"Prefect," he said, quieter this time. "You should wake up."

You mumbled something incomprehensible, shifting slightly but not moving away.

Riddle exhaled sharply. Gathering every ounce of dignity he had left, he straightened his back further and gently nudged you.

"Wake up," he repeated, firmer now.

You groaned softly before blinking up at him, drowsy and disoriented. "Mm… what happened? What did I miss? Oh, Riddle."

"You fell asleep," Riddle said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Your eyes widened slightly as you realized where your head had been. "Oh… oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to–" You sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. "I was just… really tired."

Riddle turned his gaze away, attempting to school his expression into something neutral. "It is fine," he said, though the stiffness in his voice betrayed him. "But next time, do try to stay awake."

"Yeah, I am sorry," you gave him a sheepish smile. "I know you took the time out of your busy schedule just to teach me. It won't happen again, I promise."

"It’s…" He exhaled. "It’s fine. You should take better care of yourself, Prefect. If you’re this exhausted, perhaps you should reconsider how you manage your time."

"You are right…" you trailed off. "I am really sorry, though. I will try to get more sleep."

Riddle hummed, shutting his book close. "That’s enough studying for today. We’ll continue another time when you’re actually capable of retaining information."

"Oh, of course. Thank you," you smiled, picking up your items.

Riddle let out a sigh when you finally walked away.

It took a long time before his heart settled back into its usual rhythm.

iii. You link your arms with him.

Riddle was not particularly fond of crowds. More specifically, he was not fond of being jostled, or people with no regard for personal space, or the chaos that came with large gatherings.

It was the reason why he hesitated when you had invited him to join you on an outing to the town near Night Raven College. At first, he had been inclined to decline but after some insistence (you just asked him politely, twice), he agreed.

And here he was. He found himself almost colliding with someone more than once.

Then, you suddenly looped your hand around his arm and pulled him closer to you.

"Prefect! What do you think you’re doing?" he asked.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. "What? I don’t want to lose you in the crowd. This way, we won’t get separated."

"There’s no need for such a thing–" He stopped himself when someone pushed past a little too roughly, nearly knocking into him. Instinctively, he leaned towards you.

"See?" you smiled. "It's practical."

Riddle’s face burned. Practical or not, this was not something he was used to.

With a sharp inhale, he turned his head forward, focusing on anything but you. "Very well," he muttered. "But do not pull me around like some child."

"Of course not!" you grinned.

Riddle exhaled slowly, willing the flush on his face to fade. He would simply have to endure this.

iv. You fix his hair for him.

Riddle always looked put together and proper (as you had mentioned in the unbirthday party). Never a wrinkle on his clothes, shoes always cleaned, no strand of hair out of place.

Which was why you immediately caught onto the tuft of red hair sticking out at an odd angle. You eyed his hair while he examined the display of desserts in the bakery. He was completely unaware of the imperfection.

"Hold still for a second," you said suddenly.

Riddle blinked, turning to you.

Before he could say anything, you reached out and smoothed down the strand, brushing your fingers gently through his hair to put it back into place.

His breath hitched, and every thought about pastries evaporated right out of his mind. The warmth of your fingertips barely lasted a second, but it left an undeniable trail of heat on his skin.

You pulled back, inspecting your handiwork with a satisfied smile. "There! All fixed."

"You–" He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to remain steady. "That was unnecessary."

You only shrugged. "It was bothering me."

"Bothering you?" Riddle repeated.

"Yeah. You always look so put-together, so seeing your hair out of place felt… different." You waved a hand vaguely. "And you always like to look presentable, especially in public."

Riddle turned his gaze away, unable to meet your eyes. "You shouldn’t be so casual with things like that," he muttered.

"Why not?" You tilted your head. "Friends help each other out, don’t they?"

He inhaled, calming down.

"I suppose," he finally conceded, clearing his throat. "We should continue. We have other shops to visit."

"Right," you said, eyeing the desserts, while Riddle found himself absentmindedly touching the spot where your fingers had been.

+1 He takes your hand and kisses it.

It had been a long but pleasant day. The trip to town had gone smoother than expected, despite the crowds and Riddle’s initial reservations. He had even managed to enjoy himself although it had more to do with you being there.

Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in soft shades of pink and gold, you and Riddle stood in the hall of mirrors. The walk back had been peaceful, the quiet between you feeling natural rather than awkward.

"You were surprisingly tolerant today," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "I thought for sure you’d be upset at people for improper behavior."

"I am not as strict as you make me out to be." Riddle huffed.

You gave him a questioning look.

He sighed. "Fine. I just didn’t want to ruin the outing. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the admission. Then, a slow smile spread across your face. "You’re sweeter than you let on."

Riddle stiffened slightly then exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Honestly, Prefect, you have no restraint with your words."

You only grinned. "Agree to disagree."

He gave you an exasperated look before his gaze flickered down for a brief moment. Then, with a sudden movement, he reached out and gently took your hand in his.

You froze, curious about what he would do next.

Before you could react, Riddle lowered his head slightly, pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand.

Your face felt like it was on fire, and for the first time that evening, you were the one flustered. "Riddle?"

He straightened, a small smile on his lips as he released your hand. "Consider it a return for your… gestures today," he said smoothly, though the faint pink on his ears betrayed his composure.

You gawked at him, words completely failing you.

Riddle felt internally delighted at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself for getting you back. "Good day, Prefect," he said, turning towards the mirror to his dorm.

You stood there for a moment, before quickly mumbling a quick 'have a good day'.

Riddle Rosehearts had just turned the tables on you.

© ladyfocalors

[angelluv16]

Finding our way back

Max Verstappen x reader

✩: Weeks after letting you walk away, Max finally faces what he’s been running from, and he’s not willing to lose you again.

Want to be added to my taglist?: Click here

pairing: max verstappen x reader

request: Yes!!

warnings: Fluff ending, Emotional conversations, and past conflict. breakup recovery

part 1

You hadn’t heard from him.

Not in a text. Not in a call. Not even in a passive-aggressive like on your story. Nothing.

You thought you’d be relieved after walking away, after choosing yourself for once, but instead, you felt like you were floating in some strange limbo, somewhere between heartbreak and healing. The days blurred. Your apartment was too quiet. And your heart… your heart still beat like it was waiting for his.

It had been three weeks.

You thought maybe Max was done. Maybe he’d let you go that easily because it really didn’t matter that much anymore. That all the time, all the nights you’d stayed up waiting for him to come home, all the soft I love you's whispered into his collarbone, none of it was enough to make him fight for you.

But what you didn’t know was that Max hadn’t slept right in two weeks either.

He’d wake up and reach for your side of the bed, forgetting you weren’t there. He’d go to tell you something about his day, a dumb moment from the garage, a text Lando had sent that made him laugh, but you weren’t there. He’d scroll through old photos at night, fingers lingering too long on the ones where you were looking at him, not the camera.

He had let you walk away.

And that silence? It was loud. Louder than your voice ever was when you begged him to let you in.

It was after the third night in a row of sitting in the dark with your photo pulled up on his phone that Max realized he hadn’t just lost someone he loved. He’d lost the one person who saw him, even when he was too stubborn to let it show. And worse, he hadn’t even tried to stop it.

So he did what he should’ve done weeks ago.

It was a Saturday morning when he showed up.

You heard the knock at your door, three soft taps. You almost didn’t open it. You thought maybe it was your neighbor again, asking about your WiFi or whatever. But something in your chest tightened, like it knew. Like it had been waiting for this moment the whole time.

You opened the door.

And there he was.

Max, standing there in a hoodie you’d stolen more times than he could count, hands in his pockets, eyes tired, lips parted like he’d rehearsed something but forgot every word the second he saw you.

You blinked. “Max…”

“Hi.” His voice cracked, like it hadn’t been used in days. “Can I come in?”

You stared at him for a second longer, then stepped aside silently. The second he crossed the threshold, the air shifted—thicker, heavier, but not angry. Just quiet. Cautious.

Like you were both walking on old wounds.

Max stood there for a beat, looking around your living room like it had changed. Like it wasn’t his second home for so long. “You moved the couch.”

You let out a breathy laugh, sitting on the edge of said couch. “It’s been two weeks. I’ve been trying not to think about you every time I sit down.”

His eyes dropped. “I deserve that.”

You looked at him—really looked at him. He looked like hell. He probably thought the same about you. “Why are you here?”

Max sat down slowly, but not too close. His hands wrung together like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Because I owe you the conversation I should’ve had that night. And I—” he paused, swallowing thickly, “I owe you an apology.”

You crossed your arms, not cold, just guarded. “You said a lot of things, Max.”

“I know,” he said quickly, almost desperately. “And I didn’t mean them. I was angry, and scared, and—I don’t know—I thought I could push you away before you walked away yourself.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Why would you think I’d leave you?”

Max’s eyes finally met yours. “Because I’ve spent my whole life preparing for people to walk away. I thought… if I didn’t need anyone, then losing them wouldn’t hurt.”

He laughed, bitter and small. “But losing you hurt. Worse than anything.”

You were quiet for a long time, your chest tight and your heart beating so loud you swore he could hear it. “Why didn’t you say something before? All I wanted was for you to talk to me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And I hated that I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t want to—but because I didn’t know how.”

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers shaking slightly. “I was always taught to stay focused. Stay locked in. And somewhere along the way, I started thinking that being vulnerable made me weak. That needing you, showing that I needed you, meant I wasn’t strong enough to handle everything on my own.”

He shook his head, eyes glassy now. “But God, I was so wrong.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and all you saw was the boy underneath, the one who loved deeply but had never learned how to say it out loud. The one who let silence do the talking until it was too late. The one who finally looked like he was ready to try.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, Max,” you said quietly. “I never was. I just wanted to be let in. I just wanted to know you trusted me enough to carry it with you.”

He nodded slowly. “And I do. I always did. I was just too proud to admit it.”

A beat passed.

“Do you still love me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Max didn’t even hesitate. “I never stopped.”

Something cracked inside you—something you’d been holding together with duct tape and denial.

“I love you,” he said again, clearer this time. “And I know I messed up. I know I let you walk away and didn’t fight for you when I should’ve. But I’m here now. I’m ready to be better. I want to fix this, if you’ll let me.”

You blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. “I don’t want perfect, Max. I just want you.”

Max scooted closer then, slowly, like he was afraid he’d scare you off. “You have me,” he whispered. “All of me. If you still want it.”

You nodded, a small smile breaking through the storm. “I do.”

He reached out then, his fingers brushing against yours, and it was like breathing again for the first time in weeks. Like the silence had finally broken. Like maybe, just maybe, love really could survive the silence.

And when he pulled you into him—arms wrapping around you tight, nose buried in your shoulder—you knew something had shifted again. Not back to what it was.

But to something stronger.

Something rebuilt.

You found your way back.

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @Ale-522 @meadhbhcavanagh @fulla02 @fanficfanatic77 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @lottalove4evelyn @edgyficuselastica @nebarious @fanny2811 @greantii @norstappenvibes @mary-op81 @jiggly-puff-12 @ana-23-03 @nichmeddar @honethatty12 @camillyb @mynameisangeloflife @galaxygurlll @esw1012 @rere10

[piroulinewafers]

Omg omg omg….. could you write something about caleb x pregnant mc (if that’s ok!!)

Your abo fic has me rotating how completely and totally normal and not at all insane caleb would be about her /j

Ps I LOVE how you write caleb!!! I feel like your voice for him is so perfect and that you nailed how he is holds his tenderness and protectiveness for mc and the conflict of it all when they contradict 🫶🫶🫶

𝐚/𝐧: waaa, thank you so much 🥺 i really appreciate ur kind words !! i saw this and i was admittedly smitten, i swear i was just talking to some people on twt about this the other day. i feel caleb would be willing to do anything for the reader, undoubtedly, but the idea of bringing a child into this world, knowing the state of their lives and career paths... it would deeply concern him. and his capacity to love the child regardless of that too, i feel he wonders if he could possibly love anyone as much as he loves the reader considering his love for them is so... overwhelming to say the least and encompasses his whole being. i think he'd be a good dad though 🥺

𝐜��𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: caleb x fem! pregnant! reader 𝐜𝐰: none. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

the kitchen was warm with the smell of coffee and toast, soft light spilling in through the curtains as morning settled in around them. the walls glowed honey-warm, the wood floor cool under bare feet.

caleb stood in front of the stove, disheveled and sleepy but determined, spatula in one hand and a bowl of whisked eggs in the other. 

his apron— embarrassingly pink and proud— read “kiss the chef” in bold, cursive lets, a gag gift she had given him that he now wore religiously whenever he cooked.it was tied hastily over his faded plaid pajama pants and white t-shirt, still warm from sleep.

she shuffled in behind him with a yawn, her hair mussed from sleep and eyes still just barely open as she stretched. she was wearing one of his old t-shirts— threadbare, a little too big, but clinging gently to the swell of her belly.

her pajama pants dragged, just a little too long, and her slippers made soft scuffs against the floor as she approached him.

“look who’s finally awake, sleepy-head,” caleb hummed out with a sleepy grin, glancing over at her. his eyes trailed over her form, sighing softly. 

“go sit. i got it.” he said in response to her sleepy grumble of a good morning, returning his attention back to the stove as he flipped a slide of toast in the pan with the kind of careful precision he usually reserved for dangerous missions. 

she squinted at him, and he could practically hear the pouty huff that spilled past her lips. 

“you’re fussing again. i’m not helpless, know,” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. she leaned against the counter, watching him with tired eyes and a very evident pout. 

“you’re not supposed to be on your feet too long,” caleb said without looking at her, his voice laced with the kind of gruff concern that made her chest feel warm and achy all at once. “and you haven’t eaten anythin’. i’m makin’ you eggs. full of protein. you need protein.”

she wrinkled her nose, arms folding loosely over her belly. “i just wanted coffee…

“no,” he cut in, flat. “doctor said one cup a day, and you already had it yesterday.” 

“that was yesterday, caleb.”

he turned his head just slightly to give her a look. “you really gonna argue with me over coffee?”

“anyways, i saw you yesterday trying to reach your mug on the upper shelf, and you were twisting weird to reach it.” he said seriously, turning to properly face her. “you’ve been gettin’ sore. i’m not taking any chances.”

she looked up at him, all stubborn and pink-cheeked, and he couldn’t help it—his hand settled over her bump with practiced ease, thumb brushing slow circles there. he could feel the way she leaned into his touch

eventually, she moved towards the fridge and caleb turned back to the stove for a second too long, and in that moment, she was already reaching for a knife and an banana.” 

“what’re you doin’?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“helping.”

he stepped toward her immediately. “(name).” 

“i’m just cutting bananas,” she whined, soft and dramatic. “you know i like it with my toast!”

they moved around each other in a slow, familiar rhythm— caleb trying to herd her away from the counter and her dancing carefully around his hands, her motions nimble and practiced in the cramped space of their shared kitchen.

it was routine by now. her trying to help him. him trying to stop her. the dance between them slow and sweet and full of half-smiles and quiet affection.

eventually, caleb sighed and leaned in close, his hand settling on her lower back. “fine,” he let out. “you can cut the damn banana. but that’s it. sit on the stool while you do it.”

she grinned. “yes colonel,” that sing-songy tone would surely drive him mad with love. her lips twitched in amusement as she shuffled to the stool with a cutting board he’d given to her in her hands.

she sat, knife in hand, watching him from across the counter. his back was to her now, broad and steady, one hand holding the skillet while the other cracked eggs with practiced ease. the smell of butter and pepper filled the air, and for a second, everything felt simple.

“you’re babying me again,” she said quietly, peeling the banana. “like… a lot.”

caleb didn’t turn, but his voice was low and careful when he answered. “you’re carryin’ my kid.”

“still.”

“i don’t care,” he said, firmer now. “you matter more than anythin’, and i’m not gonna risk anythin’ happenin’ to you.”

truthfully, he was scared. every time she winced or shifted too fast, every time her breathing changed just slightly in the night, his heart caught. he’d spent years preparing for danger— facing it, chasing it— but nothing had prepared him for this kind of fear. the quiet, constant kind. the kind where his whole world sat on the other side of the bed, wrapped in flannel pajamas and soft smiles.

and sometimes, when he lay awake with her curled into his chest, one hand resting over her stomach, he’d wonder—could he love this baby the way he loved her? would there be enough of his heart left? or would everything just pale in comparison to her?

he sighed, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. he didn’t want her to worry over him when she already had enough on her plate.

she puffed out her cheeks and slumped dramatically into one of the kitchen chairs. “you act like i’m made of glass…”

caleb didn’t turn around, but she saw his shoulders shake with a laugh. “you’re not made of glass, baby. but you’re carrying somethin’ real precious. i’m allowed to hover.”

“i’m going to start hovering over you if you keep bossing me around,” she muttered, only half serious. “i like helping…”

“you help by existing,” he said over the sizzle of the pan. “that’s enough. that’s all i need.”

she let out a soft huff, dragging her chair back noisily as she stood up again. “then i’m making the eggs.”

“no, you’re not.”

“i am.” she shuffled up beside him, barefoot and defiant after having kicked her slippers aside beneath the kitchen island she had been sitting by. she reached around him to nudge the spatula. “sunny-side up. you always forget i like them that way.”

“i forget because i like mine scrambled and i’m selfish.”

he caught her wrist gently before she could flip anything, the spatula now dangling between them. “baby…”

her bottom lip jutted out, and she gave him that look— eyes wide and brimming with the softest offence, like a puppy scolded for something it didn’t understand.

caleb sighed, leaning in and kissing the top of her head. “won’t you just let me take care of you? you’re always so fussy about everything. i just don’t want you to strain yourself or the baby.”

caleb moved to press his palms against the roundness of her stomach. 

“hey, little one,” he murmured, voice low and sweet as he rubbed little circles with his thumbs, addressing their child. “your mama’s being a real menace. trying to play chef when she’s supposed to be resting.”

“i’m right here, you know.” she mumbled, pouting again. 

caleb just grinned, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “don’t think they didn’t hear that attitude.”

he dropped his voice to a soft, exaggerated whisper, like he was telling a secret. “she won’t even let me feed her properly. tried to sneak coffee this morning, real scandalous behaviour from your mom, can you believe it?”

she squeaked in protest, turning her head slightly so her cheek pressed against his collarbone. you’re going to make our baby think i’m awful…”

“you?” he chuckled, rocking her gently side to side in that slow, swaying way he always did. “nah, they already love you more than me.”

finally, she softened, hands finding his at her belly, nudging his fingers with hers. the egg sizzled quietly behind them, forgotten for a moment. 

“sometimes i think about how much i love you, and it scares the hell out of me,” he admitted. “and now, there’s this baby. somethin’ that’s half you and half me.”

she blinked. 

“i’ve never loved anything more than i love you. i don’t know how i’m supposed to fit this baby in my heart when you already fill it up.”

she simply hummed, a sleepy smile on her face as she looked up at him, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet her gaze. 

“you think too much, you know?”

“so i’ve been told.” 

he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment like her palms alone could quiet all the noise in his head. she was warm. familiar. his.

she stretched up on her toes and pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “your heart’s bigger than you think, colonel. i should know, i live in their rent-free.” she said with a giggle.

he laughed, low and. helpless. the sound tumbled from his chest like a wave breaking like something unspooling and softening inside of him. his arms slide around her waist again, this time pulling her flush against him, the swell of her belly snug between them.

“you really are trouble,” he murmured against her hair. “sweet little thing with a sharp tongue and a refusal to stay put.”

she sniffed, resting her chin on his chest and pouting dramatically. “i’m still craving coffee, you know. the baby is telling me it wants some.”

“i’ll make you a smoothie,” he barged, swaying her gently again. ‘and you get to sit down and let me finish breakfast before we set the whole kitchen on fire. i think the eggs are overdone at this point…”

he glanced over at them, and even though he’d set the stove to low heat, he’d noticed the eggs had started to stick to the pan.

with a sigh, she kissed his jaw and finally peeled herself away, waddling back towards her stool by the counter, pretending to be more pregnant than she was just to make him laugh. caleb rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove, muttering something about eggs and bananas and wives who didn’t know how to take it easy.

but every so often, his gaze flicked back to her, just to make sure she was smiling. just to make sure she was real.

because in a life full of chaos, war and uncertainty, filled with constant threats that wished to separate them, there was something steady and unshakable about the sound of her humming at the kitchen counter. something miraculous in the way her hand absently stroked her belly, like she was already holding their baby close.

he flipped the eggs with care. two sunny-side up— just how she liked them.

[euphoria-looney]

Mushy and Nasty

"Careful the wish you make. Wishes are children. Careful the path they take. Wishes come true, not free." 'Children Will Listen' By Bernadette Peters'

So Much More Journal Entry #21 10th Journal

Divider Creds: @bernardsbendystraws and @sisterlucifergraphics

I can't stomach any more peas.

My mom used to make it appetizing, but now it's just this mushy, nasty-tasting sphere. Discu Digusting. How does anyone enjoy peas?

I don't think that's the only thing I don't like, either, as much as I adore Alfie, he needs to put the salt and pepper down and have something a little more. I would be lying if I said I wasn't trying to be ungrateful, but hey, I'm... fine with not being important enough to get attention, but at least make some good food.

I can't complain as the food here is infinitely better than the food I had to dig through the trash for, but that's expected; it was rotten and moldy. Would it be bad if I said that I wouldn't mind going back to that broken-down apartment with my mom over this? Does that make me sound spoiled? It probably does, it seems I'm so out of touch with remembering how it was back in the slums of Gotham that I'm willing to be ungrateful and spoiled and say I like to be back, knowing I would just complain if I did.

On another note, I'm despising Melody more and more as she keeps bothering me, she can't help it, she's a child, and I'm a bitter teenager with problems that could be stomached down any day, but the way she clings on to me makes everything worse. Especially with those eyes surrounding her bore onto me with something I wanted, yet in the wrong way. There I go contradicting myself.

But at least Dick was nice to me, he for once went up to talk to me, he asked how did I get Melody so attached to me. Not exactly the type of conversation I wanted, but it's better than nothing.

Not only that, but each time Delphie tells me to just call her mom will make me violently throw up before choking myself out. I just feel shivers being dispersed throughout my body when she does that, or when she tries to act motherly to me, it's not a funny, silly thing, but rather uncomfortable, and once again, her admirers seem to be peeved when she gives me more attention than most.

My friends seems to be concern for me though, I had collapsed the other day, the made sure their private doctors checked what was wrong. It was stress so nothing important, I'll be heading back to practice for my figure skating routine soon, my friends are going to bite my head off but I'd prefer that over letting my laziness take over the healthier choice of dedicating my time to something actually important.

Sincerely,

[s.name] (signature name).

Credit to @randomlyappearingartist for the request.

How are we feeling about this? 😍 because I think I'm going to choke myself out if I don't find the vibes to get back into writing.

[bunnyvirgo-thechocobunny]

@the-silent-fool requested: could you make a The Smiling dead x (ftm) Reader who is coming out and transitioning to them? Take your time and drink some water

A/N: I was a little confused on what you meant by that in a fanfic way or a headcanon way so I thought I could delete the draft and start over….I didn’t know it would DELETE THE FUCKING ASK IM SO SORRY. 😭😭😭 (if this is the close I could get on what you mean then I’m happy)

༻The Smiling dead fam (separate) x (FTM) Reader༺

(Can be seen as platonic or romantic)

~👑Mel👑~

“So…you’re telling me that you don’t feel like a girl and you were born in the wrong body, so that would make you transgender?”

“I mean yeah…”

“Oh okay so, I already knew that.”

She already knew it when you first met but she wanted to keep it a surprise from yourself since it would be spoilers about yourself is she would like to call it.

Mel’s really happy that you trust her enough to come out, so for a reward for your upmost outstanding courage…she would give you a pat on the back and a big o’ hug

She is more than excited to help you with your transition if you want her to! Help you cut your hair shorter and help you save enough money for your top surgery!

If anyone misgenders you on purpose she would beat the living shit out of them in a heartbeat, just give her the word and she’ll do it!

~🍞Breadhead🍞~

“So uh…yeah I’m trans..!”

“Okay! :D”

“You don’t know what that means do you?”

“Nope!”

Bless Breadhead’s heart. He is very confused but he has the spirit though, he has the spirit and a lot of it too for sure!

Doesn’t understand what transgender is but it seems really personal to you so that means you trust him with something really personal makes him really happy!

He would ask some of his fellow co-workers, Mel or Ken about transgender stuff so he could understand better and respect what you go as

Breadhead is basically the “his pronouns are they/them” meme whenever someone misgenders you and you almost laugh anytime when he tries to correct whoever his misgenders you but fails hilariously

~🚬Mud🚬~

“So I’m a trans man now and…I hope you understand how I feel about this part of my identity.”

“…anything else you want to tell me about?”

“W-wait you’re not gonna…you know…?”

“…just take this bag of scarabs to pay for that top surgery.”

He doesn’t really mind you being trans at all so he gives you scarabs for you to get top surgery and that is the only thing that he’ll do for you.

It looks like he doesn’t care but he’s really glad that you’re this open with him about your gender identity

He would give you some clothing advice here and there like what outfit is too feminine for you and such, but would tell you that the colors don’t really matter so you’re free to choose any color of clothing you like!

Naturally says “hey dumbass that’s a man you’re talking to.” In the most passive aggressive tone and gets up to whoever his misgendering you’s face

~🔪Ken The Butcher🔪~

“So you feel like you were born in the wrong body?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on. I know a guy who can get you the surgery.”

Understands how you feel about yourself and pretty willing to give you much support as you need

Proud of you that you trust him enough to come out and just like unlike Mel with a hug too he’ll give you a pat on the back for your courage but not a hug unfortunately.

But like Mel he’s willing help you with getting the your top surgery need to complete your transition to being a guy if you want him to that is.

Had a sign that said “no insults to staff or allies of Ken The butcher( only Ken the butcher is allowed to insult his staff and allies)” but you said it was a little bit embarrassing for you so he got rid of it, what? Ken’s just trying to look out for any assholes who misgenders you.

_________________________________________

I’m open to any more X reader of the gaslight district cast!!!!!

[lottiesboy]

spoiled !

ur boy is back finally 🙏🏽 i’ve had no motivation whatsoever + school is a pain in the ass but i love writing :333 all i know is lottie fics rn guys i miss my mama… okay bye :}

pairing: cg!lottie matthews x little!reader

summary: with your regression being fairly new to lottie, she decides to spoil you in every way possible.

tags: sfw, fluff, age regression, mama!lottie, baby supplies (pacifiers, onesies, etc), reader regresses during fic, a really corny store name (bear with me 🥀)

you were laying in bed, scrolling on your phone when you heard the front door open. you knew it was lottie because you could her keys jingling obnoxiously and her boots against the hardwood.

“lottie?” you were halfway down the stairs to see her putting a lot of shopping bags on the floor. “there you are. i haven’t seen you all day.” you came down the rest of the stairs and lottie smiled, seeing you in the same pajamas and same sleepy demeanor from when she left this morning.

she pulled you into a hug, giving you a little peck on the head. “you went shopping?” you spoke into lottie’s shoulder. “yes. but not for me.”

she led you to the couch and patted the seat next to her, gesturing you to sit down. “so.. i went to that store you were telling me about..” lottie brought up a bag with the store’s name on it.

you had told your girlfriend about your regression a few weeks ago and she was very accepting, willing to do anything to make this the best experience for you and her.

“agere r us? you bought me stuff from there?”

“i know, i’m probably moving too fast, i’m sorry, darling. you said you wanted to take it slow, but i wanted to surprise you-”

“no, it’s okay, lottie. it’s just- so much stuff.” you blushed. you were probably looking at a dozen bags worth of baby stuff on the floor. “you know how much i like to spoil my little one.” lottie caressed your cheek before bringing some bags over to you, setting them on the coffee table.

“how about you open those while i get some more bags, okay?” you nodded, smiling shyly before excitedly opening the first bag. it was a soft plushie of your favorite animal. “i knew you would love that. there’s something in that other bag too, sweetheart.” lottie smiled proudly.

you pulled it out, and it was a set of winnie the pooh plush baby rattles. “oh my- i’ve been wanting these! ..thank you m- lottie.” you tripped over your words, getting a little too excited. but lottie noticed, and she tried her best to hide her big smile. “you can call me whatever you like, sweetie.” she didn’t want to push you too hard.

it was silent for a while before you said “mama” under your breath, making lottie flush. “mama?” she asks you to make sure she heard you correctly. you nodded shyly. “you can call me mama, sweet baby.” she reassured. “you wanna come sit on my lap?”

you nodded, sitting down and shaking one of your new rattles, already feeling yourself slip. you put your thumb in your mouth, reminding lottie that she bought something to stop that.

“baby, look at these.” lottie held up a two pack of pacifiers. “even though you’re an adorable little thumbsucker, these are way better for your teeth. and they’re more comfortable.” lottie opened the plastic, taking one out to show you. “you wanna try it? mama just has to wash it a little first, okay?” she patted you so she could get up and go to the sink.

you were too occupied with your rattles that it took you a while to realize that she came back. “you like your rattles, don’t you?” lottie sat back down, giving you the pacifier. you looked at the soother for a while before taking your thumb out of your mouth and replacing it with the pacifier. it bobbed up and down as you sucked on it, making lottie coo.

“aww, my precious baby.” she pouts playfully. your cheeks were red hot, hiding in lottie’s chest. lottie gasped, trying to get your attention. “look at this, honey. i got you a blankie. isn’t it so soft?” she let you touch it, covering you up. “and some onesies for you to wear. oh you’re gonna look adorable in these, i can already see it.”

you were feeling very spoiled as lottie went through the rest of your new baby stuff. bottles, baby soap, the gifts just kept coming. once you were finished, all your presents were stacked up on the coffee table and the bags were all over the floor.

“..thank uou, mama.” you said behind your paci. lottie smiled, kissing your forehead. she couldn’t help but swoon at you calling her “mama” in the sweetest little voice. “you’re so very welcome, my angel.” she was beginning to love this “mama” thing.

[cha-melodius]

hihi i love your writing can i request firstprince in the white house !

(thank you so much for this prompt! I had a lot of fun turning it into a silly little AU 😆)

Special Tour (of My Heart)

(M, 3k, read below or on AO3)

Henry hadn’t even wanted to come. They could have gone to Paris, or Barcelona, or Florence, or Prague, or Vienna, or Athens. But it had been Bea’s turn to choose the destination for their annual summer holiday trip, and she wanted to visit a very close online friend that she’d met in a support group. That person lived in Washington, DC. Henry supposes he should be grateful it wasn’t somewhere like Kansas.

To be fair, it hasn’t been as bad as he feared. He’d scoffed at the idea that American museums could compare to European ones, but he had to admit, they’d been to some very nice ones. The Native American museum in particular had been a highlight. He hadn’t been that enthused about visiting the White House, no more than he cared to tour Buckingham Palace, but Bea’s friend had planned an entire itinerary, so here they were.

Specifically, here Henry was, faced with one of the most beautiful men he’d ever encountered in his life.

He’d say it’s made the tour more interesting, except he’s not sure he’s really taken in much of what the guide—Alex—has been saying, distracted as he is by big brown eyes framed with obscenely long lashes, a perfectly cut jawline, a chin dimple, and those forearms. Even his voice is deeply sexy, which is not helping Henry’s predicament. That being, arguing with himself about whether it’s completely mad to ask out your tour guide when you’re a tourist and leaving in two days.

Normally, he’d just appreciate from a distance and go about his life, perhaps write some rueful poetry about missed chances. But Alex keeps looking at him, and not in the way his eyes skip across the other tour group members as he talks. He looks at Henry with intention, with the kind of heated gaze that would usually lead to a very enjoyable night if someone fixed him with it in a club. Not that Henry goes to clubs much anymore. The music is always too loud and he is not a dancer, and after sowing no shortage of wild oats in uni, he’d kind of gotten tired of one night stands as a rule.

He’d be willing to make an exception for Alex.

The tour is over far too soon. They finish in the State Dining Room, then Alex is leading into a grand entrance hall on the north side of the building and thanking them for visiting. He invites anyone to stick around if they have more questions, and the way he stares directly at Henry when he says it has Henry rooted to the spot.

“You two go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later,” Henry says to Bea without looking away from where Alex is now talking with some other visitors.

“Henry,” Bea sighs with a chastising note in her voice. “The tour guide? Really?”

Henry sticks his nose in the air. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just have a question.”

“Right. Well, text me when you have your questions answered.”

Unfortunately there are some visitors with actual questions. A family from Topeka has a seemingly endless supply, which Alex, to his credit, answers patiently. The entire time, his eyes keep flicking over to Henry like he’s afraid Henry might leave before they can speak. Not that Henry has any bloody clue what he’s going to say. He wonders if he should make up a question, just so he actually has some reason for sticking around. Can’t seem to come up with anything that’s not just can I have your number?

Finally, the last person files out, and Alex hurries over to Henry’s side. Then, unexpectedly, he takes hold of Henry’s elbow with a low, “Come with me,” said under his breath, and walks him determinedly back through the corridor. Pausing at a door, Alex looks around to make sure they’re alone, then pushes Henry through it.

They’re back in the Red Room. It’s strangely silent now, just the two of them among the ornate furnishings. Alexander Hamilton stares down at them judgementally from his portrait, as if he knows they’re up to something untoward.

“Wha—” Henry starts, but he doesn’t get far because Alex shoves him back against the table in front of Hamilton’s portrait and crowds up close, until their noses are only centimetres apart.

“How dare you stand there the whole tour, being incredibly fucking distracting with your eyes and your lips and your fucking cheekbones, and give me those fucking looks,” Alex practically growls.

“What looks?” Henry tries weakly, not completely certain he’s not about to be punched.

“Fuck, your voice, too,” Alex groans, the muscle in his jaw clenching as he closes his eyes and exhales heavily, and Henry comes to the strange realisation that although he’s just spent forty-five minutes listening to Alex talk, he’s said a grand total of three words. Two and half, really. Not that it seems to matter. Alex huffs, “You know what looks. Like you wanted to fucking devour me.” He meets Henry’s eyes steadily. “Am I wrong?”

This time, Henry can’t find his voice at all. He shakes his head, and Alex doesn’t waste any more time before kissing him soundly.

It’d be easy to say he’s never been kissed like this—by a man he’s barely spoken to, pushed against a portrait in the bloody White House—but that’s not even the most remarkable part. Because Alex kisses him with a confidence that’s dizzying, like he already knows exactly how Henry likes to be kissed, like they’ve kissed a hundred times before and he’s staking a claim on Henry’s mouth for the next hundred as well. He teases Henry’s lips open with a slide of his tongue and tests the cut of his teeth against the fullness of them, then bites down harder when Henry whimpers in response. And for a moment Henry loses himself in it, gets his hands in Alex’s curls, hooks a leg around Alex’s thigh and pulls him even closer, grinding their hips together.

Then his head thunks back against a heavy gilt frame, and he abruptly remembers where they are.

“Shouldn’t we—” Henry starts, only to be cut off by Alex’s mouth on his. He tries again. “What if someone comes in—”

“We’ve got twenty minutes until the next tour gets here,” Alex pants into his mouth. “So unless you’ve got somewhere to be…”

His hands tighten where they’re clenched around Henry’s waist and on top of his thigh and he leans in again, like he already knows the answer to that question. But Henry decides that if they’ve got twenty minutes, then he does have somewhere to be, so he shoves Alex backward and ignores his yelp of protest as Henry flips their positions, pushing Alex against the table as he drops to his knees.

“Fuuuck,” Alex groans as Henry tugs his trousers open. “Are you actually gonna…”

He trails off, but he doesn’t make any moves to halt the proceedings.

“I am,” Henry confirms. He slides a palm over Alex’s cock, straining against his boxers, and watches as Alex’s eyelids flutter as he presses his thumb just under the head of it. “Unless there are any objections…?”

Alex’s eyes snap open and he licks his lips. “Nope, none. Please, uhh, continue.”

Right, then. No time to waste.

Alex’s cock is just as pretty as the rest of him, long and curving and leaking at the tip, and Henry mourns the fact he won’t be able to take the time he wants with this. That he won’t be able to take Alex apart piece by piece, to draw whimpering moans from his throat and leave him writhing in desperation, to make him yell until he’s just as hoarse as Henry will be after this. Still, there’s something incredible about this moment—here, in this place, on his knees for an American boy he’s just met. The ghosts of the American founding fathers must surely be conflicted, if any were around to witness.

Henry shoves the thought out of his head and focuses instead on the heavy weight of Alex’s cock on his tongue and the ache in his jaw. On the slide of smooth skin under his palm as he works the base of the shaft, and on the musky scent that fills his nose and the little bursts of salt that trickle out onto his tongue. Above him, Alex is breathing heavily and making little bitten off sounds every time Henry swirls his tongue just so. Clearly, he’s trying to stay quiet, and Henry doesn’t want them to get found out, but he also can’t quite help but try to make Alex unravel a little further.

Also, the clock is ticking. Quite literally. There’s an ornate one on the table next to Alex’s hips and nearly at Henry’s eye level, helpfully marking time until the spell they find themselves under crumbles apart. And that’s assuming Alex’s ‘twenty minutes’ was accurate. Henry pushes a little harder, hollowing his cheeks and taking Alex deeper, and is rewarded with a hand in his hair as Alex’s hips hitch forward minutely.

“You are—ah—way too good at that sweetheart, fuck,” Alex murmurs, keeping his voice low. One of his thumbs presses to the corner of Henry’s mouth, brushing over the mole there as saliva dribbles unchecked down Henry’s chin. “So fucking pretty down there for me.”

Desire curls almost painfully in Henry’s gut at the words, his own cock throbbing where it’s trapped in his trousers. It’s so tempting to reach down and give himself some kind of relief, but he abstains. Partly because he doesn’t want to risk any telltale spots on his clothes, and partly because the delicious ache of it—in combination with that of his jaw and the pressure of Alex’s hand in his hair—is making him almost lightheaded.

“Fuck,” Alex whimpers softly again, “fucking— fuck. Holy shit, I’m gonna—” His grip tightens in Henry’s hair and he tugs, just the right side of painful, but Henry takes him down to the root and swallows. Then Alex moans a broken “baby,” and Henry doesn’t have the time to process what that does to him before he feels sudden heat and bitterness filling his throat. He keeps working, swallowing, until Alex lets out a hiccupping laugh and all but collapses back against the table like all his strings have been cut.

He laughs again, a little helplessly, as Henry licks him clean and tucks him away again. “This didn’t just fucking happen,” he says. “I’m fucking dreaming.”

“I hope it was a good one,” Henry rasps, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

His voice is a wreck; he’s never going to hear the end of this from Bea. He lets Alex tug him back to his feet and into another kiss, tongue sweeping into Henry’s mouth like he wants to taste himself there.

“Best one I ever had,” Alex murmurs against his lips. Christ, it’d be so easy to get lost in this. Alex’s hand presses against his lower back, urging Henry’s hips against the crease of his thigh, and Henry shudders at the pressure.

Then they both freeze. Voices, in the next room over. Another tour. They spring apart, and Henry’s still shoving at himself, trying to make his erection less noticeable, when the door between the Blue and Red Rooms swings open.

“Oh,” the other tour guide says, an older woman with her grey hair pulled into a bun, as she looks between the two of them. Henry cannot imagine what’s going through her head right now. “Alex. What are you still doing in here?”

“I—” Alex starts, but Henry must have sucked his brain out through his cock, because his voice fails and he just looks at Henry blankly.

“My sister lost an earring, and I told her I’d go look for it,” Henry lies. “Alex volunteered to help me.”

The other guide’s eyes narrow. “That was good of him. Did you find it?”

“Ah,” Henry says, well aware that his cheeks are far too flushed. “No. Unfortunately not.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it,” Alex says, having apparently recovered some of his faculties. “You should give me your number, uh—”

Christ, he doesn’t even know Henry’s name. “Henry.”

Alex doesn’t look the least bit abashed by this fact. “Right, Henry. So I can text you if I find it.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Alex offers. He nods at the other guide, who’s still looking at them suspiciously, and the collection of tourists behind her. “Have a good rest of your tour.”

They don’t speak until they get back to the north entrance. Alex follows him outside and stops on the steps under the north portico, then turns to Henry and holds out his hand palm up. It takes Henry a moment to realise Alex is asking for his phone.

“Oh,” Henry says as he fumbles for it in his pocket, “you were being serious about the number.”

Alex scoffs and looks at him like he’s crazy. “Of course I was fucking serious.” He takes the phone from Henry and sends himself a text. When he’s done, he holds it out again, though he doesn’t let go when Henry’s hand covers his to take it. “I’ve got a few more tours to do today, but I’d like to see you later, if you’re not busy.”

Technically, Henry has plans to go to a show with Bea and her friend. Plans that he will be entirely abandoning. He rubs his thumb along the side of Alex’s hand and watches as Alex takes a deep breath. “And what exactly does ‘see’ entail in this case?”

“Actually, I want to get you in my bed and do some very bad things to you, but I was trying to be polite. Since we’re in public.”

Henry swallows. “Ah. Well then. I’m free.”

“Yeah?” Alex says, smiling like he’s won the lottery. “We could do dinner first,” he adds, almost shyly. “If you’re interested.”

Henry can’t help it—he pulls Alex into a brief kiss right there on the White House steps, heart fluttering as Alex smiles into it. “I’m interested.”

~~~~~

Alex pads back into the bedroom juggling two glasses of water and a tupperware container, which rattles when he drops it onto the bed. After he deposits the water on the bedside table, he climbs in after it, settling with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out next to where Henry is still sprawled on his stomach and feeling utterly fucked out. Henry watches through cracked eyelids as Alex peels open the lid and extracts two dark brown, round circles, which turn out to be some sort of chocolatey biscuit.

“Here,” Alex says, holding one out. When Henry doesn’t immediately take it, he wiggles it a little in front of Henry’s nose. “Homemade.”

Henry can barely move, but the smell of chocolate is a seductive one. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows and takes the biscuit, which turns out to be delicious. “You made these?” he asks Alex through a full mouth. Alex nods, looking pleased. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Carry a tune?” Alex offers.

“Hm,” Henry hums. He shifts a little closer, so he’s pressed up against Alex’s leg, and presses a kiss to his hip. “Still not convinced you’re real.”

To be fair, the last two days have passed in something of a haze. Henry has barely left Alex’s bed, much less his apartment. Bea, as it turned out, had been perfectly happy to spend time with her friend without her little brother hanging around, and Henry has been perfectly happy to immerse himself in all things Alex. He knows much more about Alex now—that he’s a law student, that he wanted to be the President when he was growing up, that he works at the White House during the summer holidays, that he’s sweet and funny and smart and passionate, and everything Henry could ever want in a man.

“Can I confess something?” Alex asks as they each crunch into another biscuit.

“Of course,” Henry agrees, perhaps too easily. He can’t help it. He wants to know everything about Alex.

Alex swallows and looks down, his eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones. “I don’t want you to leave.”

It’s so vulnerable and honest it makes Henry’s heart ache. “I know, love,” he sighs, because he does know. It’s impossible not to with the way Alex looks at him. And it’s only been two days, but this feels… significant. Like the kind of thing that he can’t—that he shouldn’t—just walk away from. Henry looks up into his big brown eyes and hears himself say, “What if I didn’t?”

Alex frowns. “What?”

“I’m on summer holiday from my graduate program for another month and a half. I could just… stay, until then.”

Even as he says it, he knows it’s true. What does he have back home? His empty flat. His deserted office on campus. Sure, he’d miss Pez and Bea, but it’s only a month and a half, and Pez could come here. The only real question is whether Alex would actually want him here.

“Are you being serious right now?” Alex asks, his voice creeping higher.

Henry rolls onto his side and looks up at him, holding Alex’s gaze steady in his. “I am if you are. Would you actually want me to stay here?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” Alex says with a huff of incredulous laughter.

“Here, here,” Henry clarifies, gesturing around Alex’s place. “I can’t afford to get my own flat in DC. Though I could help with rent.”

“Fuck the rent. And if you think I’m letting you leave this bed, you’re crazy.”

Henry can’t help the too-large smile that takes over his face, though he tries. “We will probably need to leave the bed occasionally,” he says, with as much mock seriousness as he can muster.

“I guess,” Alex says with a theatrical eye roll.

“Where’s my phone?” Henry asks rhetorically, casting a look about the room for his trousers. When he finds them, he pulls it out to find a decent number of unanswered texts from Bea, and several from Pez. Whoops.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks.

“Telling my sister about my change in plans and cancelling my flight,” Henry tells him. First, though, he pauses and lowers himself back down on the bed next to Alex, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. “If you’re sure.”

Alex squeezes his hand, then slides his other behind Henry’s neck and pulls him into a soft, lingering kiss. “I’m sure,” he murmurs when they part. “A thousand percent.”

[bimboothefool]

𝐀 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝’𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝘾𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙚 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝐚/𝐧: This is a part of a monthly poll where Patreon members can vote for that month’s story that would also have a fully rendered illustration! For now these polls are put on pause due to a short number of Patreon members. Sub to the Patreon if you’d like to access my content days or weeks in advance. It’d support me directly and you’ll have access to the Patreon only Discord server!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spoilers for The Legend of The Duskgloom Sea, you/reader becomes a mermaid in this fic and no other warnings.

As you were packing up some necessities and gifts in a satchel, Rookie Cookie excitedly asked for the story of how you fell in love with Black Pearl Cookie. “Why don’t you ask Captain Caviar Cookie for that story?” They fired back at you with, “But he said to get the story directly from you!” You sighed and looked at the time, it seemed like you had a couple minutes to spare before you’re set to sail.

“Okay, okay you got me. Settle down, Rookie Cookie.” Rookie Cookie eagerly sits down as their eyes gleamed with excitement. “Now it all began like this…”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You were stunned for words as the wrath of the gigantic mermaid was immeasurable. She sneered at Captain Caviar Cookie with utter disdain. “Memories..? WAITING?! For some insignificant COOKIE?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?! To even suggest that I still care about some liar who broke a promise!”

Your mind clicked the pieces in place, the word promise echoed in your head. ‘ Maybe… Just maybe there’s still a way to negotiate with her… ‘ Your eyes looked up as you exited the submarine and asked. “Wait please?!”

Her glowing powder blue eyes stare directly at your smaller form, as you walked towards her palm as you two were now face to face. “What you’re going to plead for your pathetic life to be spared, if so how presumptuous of you…” You swallowed your fear back as you ignored Captain Caviar Cookie and Candy Diver Cookie’s pleas for you to stop what you were doing.

“No, no… I won’t do that, instead I’d like to propose something…” Her eyes light up with intrigue as a menacing smile makes its way onto her lips. “Go on, amuse me…”

“I’d like to make a promise of sorts, you seem…isolated and perhaps you’d prefer it that way. Though I’d like to keep you company, in return I’ll order that no one be allowed to attack you or your home.” Your hands were clammy as you looked up and offered her your hand.

“So-Sound like a deal? Will you let them go?” She pondered and a flash of a softened gaze. “You… Would be willing to stay away from all who cherish you…” Captain Caviar Cookie was trying to pull you away from a binding promise. But you’ve made your stance clear. This way is the only option to keep your friends and people safe. “Yes, you have my word…” She grins and it seems to convince her. “Done. Now bid your friends farewell, if you even dare break this promise. Both you and your people will pay for your crimes…” She threatened as you sank to your knees as Captain Caviar Cookie hugged you tightly, his warmth engulfing your fear-ridden state.

Candy Diver Cookie joins the hug as they both promise to help you escape, you interjected. “No stop, that won’t help either of us. Just tell Oyster Cookie what happened and fill her in on my orders. You may be strong, but please let me do this…” His eyes stare back at you as he sighs knowing you’re not backing down. “Alright, I’ll let her know, just promise us that you’ll be safe.” You nodded as you bid them farewell, watching their submarine disappear into the inky depths.

You turn around to face her as she shrinks down to your size as you sink down, Black Pearl Cookie swims to your aid. Pulling a shimmery scale from her tail and pressing it against your lips. “Swallowing this will allow you to swim underwater, it’d be a shame to let your dough get soggy.” Black Pearl Cookie informed you, opening your mouth and swallowing the scale.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“You swallowed WHAT?!” Rookie Cookie sprung up with shock and awe. “You can turn into a mermaid?! Oh what’s that like??” You laughed at Rookie Cookie’s oncoming questions. “Alright kiddo, calm down.” An infectious smile reached your lips as you continued on with your story.

“I’m curious, how come you’re here now?” Rookie Cookie asked as you answered. “She loosened the reins a bit, albeit it took a bit of patience, but long story short I’m allowed to be on land for about six months. The other six months I’m at the sea with her.”

“Does it get lonely?” You shook your head at their question. “At first yes, but after spending time with and away from her. I don’t feel alone with her, if anything I feel a bit lonely without her.” Rookie Cookie nods as they try to comprehend your words.

“Maybe someday… One day, we can walk on land together, but I highly doubt that. But it doesn't hurt to dream about it.” You realized you were getting sidetracked and decided to return to your tale.

“Now where was I..? Oh yeah, let’s continue!” Rookie Cookie sat down as you cleared your throat.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The first couple weeks with her were a bit awkward, as she usually was relaxing. You imagined her being somewhat of an adrenaline junkie. But that was far from that, Black Pearl Cookie often took you with her to explore the sunken ships. Asking you if you’re familiar enough with what these ships held and their origins.

Soon a new face appears before the two of you, a bubbly shark mermaid. They introduced themself as Shark Sorbet Cookie and had a wish they wanted granted. “Such a lively kid…” You had to wonder if Black Pearl Cookie was capable of other things.

Learning just enough to understand her on a surface level, but not enough to truly grasp who she is underneath her wrathful and sadistic persona.

Black Pearl Cookie, the monster of the Black Pearl Island. You just didn’t believe that version of her was even true.

Her eyes glimmered with intrigue, she urged Shark Sorbet Cookie to ask for their wish. “You wish to walk on land that can be arranged…” Black Pearl Cookie outlines the deal as you stand beside her. Watching the scene unfold as your mind wanders a bit, hoping you’ll finally understand her.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Weeks turned into months, the two were out exploring again as per usual. It was now a routine to see what you two could find. You found a sea glass chunk that shimmered an iridescent color. From blue to green, with little chunks of glitter, you took it with you and swiped a piece of string and got to work. Black Pearl Cookie anxiously awaited for you with a book in her hands.

Her tail waved nervously as she questioned when was the last time she’d ever felt this way. For a land cookie no less, she recalls those times she’d ask you to entertain her. Black Pearl Cookie had to admit you were an excellent storyteller and your voice was soothing to her.

Her heart started to skip a beat or two, her fin ears fluttered and her thoughts ran wild. Pushing away the darkest thoughts and replacing it with the times you’ve held her hand. Rested in the same bed as her, even the gifts you’ve crafted for her. It was worth more than the troves of treasure that have been sunken down here.

“This feeling… I thought I was never going to feel this way ever again…” Her clawed hand is placed over where her heart should be. She soon hears her name. As she sees you swimming excitedly to her. “Black Pearl Cookie!! Close your eyes!”

She raises a brow at you. “How come?” Her eyes see that you’ve got something behind your back. Your smile was oddly infectious, it was bright and warm like the sun.

Black Pearl Cookie couldn’t help, but be attracted to that sweet warmth. You’ve made her feel like she was everything. Even when she’d set up walls to impede your progress and stop herself from these feelings. You somehow melted them away.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Rookie Cookie gushed at how you’ve melted the icy cold mermaid’s heart. Eager to hear the story to its end.

Your eyes wander towards the clock and widen with shock. “Oh shoot! Sorry Rookie Cookie, I’ll wrap up the story another time! Black Pearl Cookie is waiting for me!” You hurriedly exited the room as Rookie Cookie followed you, not wanting the ship to sail without you.

In a stroke of luck, you were right on time. You crouch down to meet Rookie Cookie at eye level. “Promise to tell me the rest of the story, when you come back?” You hummed and held out your pinky finger towards them. “Will do, it’d be a shame to leave you on a cliffhanger for too long.”

Rookie Cookie laughed as you both locked pinky fingers together, finalizing the promise. With a quick final hug, you headed to the ship as it sailed towards Black Pearl Island.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You’ve reached your destination as you bid the crew farewell, you hopped into the ocean. Holding your necessities and gifts as tight as you can as the water engulfs you.

Your scales scattered across your skin as your legs became the typical mermaid fin. You swam around, calling out for Black Pearl Cookie. Unaware she was behind you as you see a large shadow behind you. “Gah! Black Pearl Cookie!”

She merely giggled at your shock ridden face, returning to her usual size. “Welcome back, my dear…” She purred as she cups your cheeks, peppering kisses all over your face. “How’ve you been?”

She sighs merely telling you how bored she was, fiddling with the sea glass necklace around her neck. “I bet… Oh I’ve brought you some gifts!” You chirped as you happily reached into your satchel and fished out a couple books. Stories and myths from your homeland. Black Pearl Cookie smiled softly, eagerly awaiting to read them.

She holds your hand and glances at your ring finger, the black pearl band still snuggly safe around it. It makes her heart bubble with unbridled joy. Knowing even when you two were apart, the gifts you’ve given each other were physical reminders of the love you two shared.

Black Pearl Cookie was certain, you’re the one for her and knew you felt the same. She softly kisses the ring on your finger, causing your heart to race. Black Pearl Cookie giggles at your lovestruck expression.

You place a kiss on her cheek, her ears flutter happily. Both of you smiled at each other, ready to spend the next six months with each other again. Enjoying the mundane and exciting moments together.

𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙋𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙨:

- 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙎𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝 [𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

- 𝘼𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙙123 [𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

- 𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 [𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

- 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙮 [𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 <3

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐧 | 𝐤𝐨𝐟𝐢 | 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

[bisnes-socks]

welcome to käärijä university advanced joker out studies, today we are talking about what a potential collab between käärijä and joker out could perhaps sound like. blame @frikatilhi, who told me about an ask she got and i immediately ignored everything i was supposed to be doing and wrote this instead.

because i’ve thought about this a lot. too much for my own sanity, perhaps.

now, of course it could just be a käärijä x bojan collab, with bojan singing the chorus of a käärijä song, a la ruoska. easy. easiest, maybe.

but despite what they might have said themselves before, i don’t think käärijä’s sound and joker out’s sound are that incompatible. i think a full on collab that would work for both of their styles is actually possible.

on paper, yes, they don’t match. but you have to scratch the surface a little bit, have your ears and your heart open, and the possibilities reveal themselves to you. and i think souvenir pop proved that joker out are very willing to try different styles, different spices to their sound, and it’s not like every käärijä song out there is the party techno metal vibe that made him famous.

but let’s break this down a little bit, shall we.

now, i will have some examples to demonstrate my points, but you are going to have to keep an open mind and exercise your own imagination, because obviously none of these examples are going to be like bullseye exactly what they would sound like together. these are just like… ways to start broadening our musical thinking here.

so, there are several joker out songs that already demonstrate their willingness to lean towards different genres. like if you strip the songs down to their individual aspects, on paper, demoni and muzika za decu don’t sound like the same genre. lips and umazane misli don’t sound like the same genre. mesto duhov and sunny side of london don’t sound like the same genre. you know what i mean? they have their sound, but their sound is incredibly flexible. they take influence from old school rock ‘n’ roll, they take it from 80’s pop, they take it from early 2000’s indie, they take it from from all aspects of modern pop, they take it from balkan music, from british music, from american music, the list goes on. hell, the bassline on carpe diem is bordering on 70’s disco.

their style is also pretty evenly split between more upbeat and happy vibes and more minor scales heavy sad/emotional vibes. they can sound like them with all sorts of oh ooh backgrounds like carpe diem, and they can sound like them with bojan screaming like he does in mesto duhov.

really my point here is, joker out really can make almost anything sound like them.

and combining band instruments and pop melodies with rap or more electronic music is not something that has never been done before. it has.

but before we dive into the examples i have, let’s look at käärijä’s sound a bit first.

the first thing that probably comes to mind is crunchy electric guitars, techno synth vibes and his many vocal styles. he does not do that much clean, technical singing, so rap is most likely what his contribution to a collab would be.

but again, if you look at his songs from the entire span of his career, he has done all sorts of styles. there’s drum and bass, there’s breakbeat, there’s pop, there’s metal, there’s even some finnish iskelmä influence in his music for sure. he has done songs with a chorus that is sung by him, sung by someone else, nor not sung at all but rapped by him.

urheilujätkä and it’s crazy it’s party do not sound like the same genre. punainen marli and cha cha cha don’t sound like the same genre. ajoa and paidaton riehuja don’t sound like the same genre. yhtä vailla and autiomaa don’t sound like the same genre. again, he has his style, but it is at the end of the day quite flexible.

especially considering his willingness to be a bit silly too.

so now, what would be the key aspects each team would bring into the collab? well, joker out would bring band instruments (guitars, bass, drums, keyboards) and possibly bojan’s beloved trumpet but i’m afraid i don’t have examples to pull out that would involve that so we’re going to ignore the trumpet for now (though i’m sure they would make it work). and of course, bojan’s voice and singing ability. soundwise, team käärijä would bring jere’s vocals and rapping, allu’s beats and production and possibly jukka’s guitar style, but a third guitarist is not a must i guess. sonny i think is actually pretty vital in bringing it all together, being the kind of all round music expert he is.

so let’s dive into my examples. 

again, do not expect to hear a song and immediately go omg yes that’s exactly what they would sound like together. but there are elements in each of these examples i want to highlight as ways to combine sounds that are seemingly incompatible.

my first example is your pretty standard rap with a sung chorus: huominen by juno, palecafe, laineen kasperi, mik and marzi nyman. but there are elements here i want you to listen to. you can listen to it on youtube here.

ignore the drum beat, it’s your basic rap beat. instead, listen to everything else going on in the instrumentation. the guitar picking, the atmospheric synths, the bass drones laying down like a floor for the whole thing. now think of the way a song like lips by joker out is built. what are the elements that make up the musical background of that song? the tools are similar.

keep listening to everything that goes on in the background. the song doesn’t change much during the whole duration of it, but there are tiny things that change. listen out for them.

the guitar solo at the end. marzi nyman is a very well known and respected guitarist and musician in finland. rap songs usually don’t have guitar solos. this one does.

my second example is a rock duo featuring a rapper and another clean singer: luo/vuta by ursus factory featuring asa and jere valkonen. ursus factory typically combine different styles of rock in their sound, and it’s generally quite a garage-like sound the way it’s not super duper polished, but has some edge. listen to the song on youtube here.

in this one, you can ignore the main vocals. the singing style in this one is quite far from bojan, and focusing on the monotone delivery can distract from listening to the band elements. there’s more melodic singing towards the end of the second verse, if you want to listen to that

again, listen to the instrumentation: to the guitars, to the bass, to the keyboards, to the drums

after the second chorus, at around 1:45, we get quite metal-like riffs going on, demonstrating switching between stylistic choices in a way that makes a clear difference without being a really stark jump from one style to another

after two minutes we get the rap section. now, asa’s style is quite different from käärijä (though there’s definitely some playing around with vocal styles here too), but the point here is to listen out to how the musical elements stay the same but lay out a perfectly suitable base for a rap section. a rap section doesn’t have to change the entire structure of the song. unless of course you want it to

the most obvious change in the music comes at around 3:30 when we introduce a whole new vocal, and entirely new melodies. in this section they go from a calm, mellow style to quite a garage punk-y chugging while still keeping the melody. pretty cool

final example that combines many of the elements of both joker out and käärijä but in a way that is not in any genre either one has done before, because this is noise pop: can i scream by sleigh bells. listen to the song on youtube here.

eight things i want you to pay attention to:

the keyboard sounds that start the whole song. listen to just literally the first five seconds of the song at first and tell me that that keyboard melody/riff could not be in a joker out song, something like stephanie or everybody’s waiting

at around 11 seconds we get the first clearly computer produced elements, that immediately break the synth poppy vibe of the first five seconds. notice that at this point there isn’t anything aggressive in the sound yet, but it still sounds far less soft than it did at first.

the drums come in, with very consistent and quite quick snare hits. it’s giving rock, it’s giving punk, it’s even giving metal.

we jump into the verse and can you hear that? there’s an acoustic guitar in there now, and that’s what’s bringing some depth into the sound. and the keyboards? again, actually pretty simple and not at all something joker out could not incorporate in their sound, right? in fact, the verse is made up of your basic band instruments. the way it is mixed and produced is what makes it sleigh bells, but the actual individual elements are very basic band instruments.

pre-chorus! we get chuggy metal-like electric guitars! it’s choppy! it creates it’s own beat - this is a very käärijä element. just imagine jukka playing those chords. you can see it, right?

clap, clap, clap, clap. what a great element. also very sleigh bells, but this is käärijä university so i’ll try to stay on track.

chorus! we are combining everything! the chuggy guitar stays, the melodies are poppy, the keyboards are doing things in the background. all elements united.

the post-chorus bit is something very different, has very little melody and demonstrates how to jump from one stylistic choice to another.

SO.

what did we learn from me finding excuses to yap about ursus factory and sleigh bells? that seemingly incompatible styles and musical elements might not be so incompatible after all. and when you think about joker out and käärijä, it’s pretty clear neither are afraid of experimenting and trying different kinds of stuff.

so when i said yesterday that i am manifesting an entire JO x käärijä album and a joint tour, i meant it. because there are so many different ways they could smash their styles together, or intertwine them gently, or make them kiss and make out and have sex and produce musical children and i might be losing the point here a little bit.

now, dear students of käärijä university, what are some songs YOU know, that remind you of ways joker out and käärijä could collab? because i would love to hear them. and imagine a world in which they do make an album and a joint tour.

[capesch-arts]

Arthur and Nyarlathothep

Let's be quick, Kay? Your shiny keeper is going to be worried sick!

"What? Why?"

Well, he can't see inside here, my good pal. Let's just say for both of your sakes, it's for the better.

"I- um... Questions... Hastur said, you're one of the only gods here that carries great knowledge. At least, one that is willing to give to us."

Awww shucks, that makes me blush! And yes! In fact, I've been waiting for you to come back to me.

"Yes I- what do you mean, back?"

Oh, my poor little lost lamb! I guess you should remember. Addison? Ever wondered why you never blew it up sky high?

"Yes, because it was risky to detonate a coal mine and it... No... We ... We made a deal..."

Uh-huh. I happened to LIKE the gal running that town, and I couldn't let you destroy it! So... What did we do?

"You offered to hide the book with his heart and gave me a decoy. But- but it wasn't you- it was a friend- it- .... Altering my memory was part of the deal..."

So your yellow fellow won't find out it was me! He was still uh, grumpy, at me. Hoho. But, that's another story. Hmm and then? And then?

"I took the deal but there was a price... Oh gods..."

Yes... I swore to hide the book somewhere outside of your mind BUT, you need to let The King in Yellow to PLUCK your soul out from your scrawny lil' meat sack.

"... That's right... I chose to leave her... I.."

We're not all perfect dads, Arthur! We all make HARD decisions. I should know! I had a daughter too, you know! But, trust me. This was the best option ya got. Remember his attack dog? What was his name Happy Dick or something? I don't know. Back then he would command him to kill your little girl. He would Artie. And he'd LAUGH at your face too. So... It is what is, dear boy...

"Why are you telling me this?"

Well, I kinda feel bad for letting you in the dark... hmm maybe? A lil' bit? I'm still deciding... since you stole my ex from me .. BUT, I actually CARE about that big ol' peacock. Well, for one reason or another...

"But, why? I'm not your friend nor is Hastur. In fact, all I've heard from the other residents of the Dreamlands is they're terrified of him. Why would you want to help him?"

I have my own personal reasons and a less personal one. Specifically regarding The Blind Idiot.

"The Blind Idiot?"

Azathoth! The creator of all. Big ol' stupid deadbeat dad of mine. I have issues

"From what I've gathered, or what I've gained from asking The King, he's the creator of all. He's a source of ultimate chaos and that the reality we exist in is his dreams..."

Correct! And a big powerful idiot like him needs to sleep SOUNDLY. And do you know who needs to make sure of that?

"No, who?"

ME. I need to keep him HAPPY. and ASLEEP! If he wakes up then [pop] everything ends... Everything dies... All the chaos? All the cults? Why do I need to make sure they exist? I need to feed that idiot. Sacrifices. Rituals. Chaos. Yadda Yadda Yadda FUCK THAT. Do you know how STRESSFUL IT IS keeping your SENILE BRAINLESS PAPPY content? FUCK IT'S HARD. like- like- having a vein CONSTANTLY on the brink of POPPING. WHOOOO! Calm down, calm down. Well, until The King came and everything was... Manageable. I don't need to make that TWIT sleep happily anymore...

"Why The King? What's so special about Hastur?"

Well, let me start with big ol' pappy. You're spot on! The very reality we're standing in is his dreams. It started out as a "good" dream. No pain, no madness, no death, no FLAVOUR! Endless power and chaos! No rules! No stakes! No NOTHING! Just a "happy" little dream with no in-betweens.

"I thought he's the embodiment of amorphous and ultimate chaos? How is that good and happy?"

Well, a world with no restrictions can seem chaotic to your pea brain now, Arthur?

"Well you don't have to rub it in"

CONTINUING...! A boring little dream with the appeal of boiled chicken...! Until... He had a nightmare. It was a small one. So MINISCULE. So... Out of reach.. yet it became the center of his attention.

It started as a dancer. A jester! To be precise. Dancing in the middle of all that chaos for all to see. So small and yet so blaring! So... Yellow. With a wide smile and a happy little song serenading every flow of its movement. And as it danced and danced, it became slower, stiffer, weaker... And the smile on its face gradually faded and became a pitiful frown. As it turned its last tune, it fell! Broken! Withered and pale... It DIED.

"How would that-"

Come on, Arthur! You're an ARTIST! You should know that you humans could give MEANING to death. But for us? Death? Actual death for us is TERRIFYING. And for Azathoth, it was damning. The slow decay and withering of life, weakening and fading out existence, before being subjected to a fate lower than oblivion. It's the reason why every offspring he has, has so much power, Artie! He's projecting his fears to us by giving us tremendous power. Even though it is ultimately futile...

"How does this connect with The King in Yellow?"

That nightmare woke The King up, Artie. And not only that, he was a WILD ONE. No one seems to know what he is or why he is but the moment he existed, DEATH! DECAY! THE END! Came with him and SPREAD throughout this little dream we call our reality. And despite that, he's still singing and playing his songs like some sort of MOCKERY towards the father of all. Well, until his recent block that is... Carcosa dying and all that...

"And that's why you're relieved of your duties? Hastur became daddy's new favourite?"

Oh Arthur... Didn't you hear what I said? I said he WOKE up not that he's BORN from the nightmare.

"What?"

Let me be clear. He's. NOT. Azathoth's.

"... What?"

Whatever he was, was asleep. Asleep for who the fuck knows how long. Older than dear old pappy, I'd say! And when that little nightmare came to him and SHOOK the Blind Idiot, THE KING. WOKE. UP.

"Wait, wait... How can that be? You're implying that The King is a separate entity far beyond even your own creator, the one whose dreams are our reality. Are you telling me, The King is older than that? What.. what is he...?"

Oh come on, Artie! I think you have a guess on what he is. I can feel the gears running in that teeny little brain of yours. Keep going though! I know you still have some more questions!

"It- I... How does this all... Keep Azathoth asleep? Does death keep him satiated, or?"

AHH it's more like, he's now aware that there's something outside of his dreams that exists... And it's looking RIGHT AT HIM. And he doesn't want to know what's in store for him when he opens his innumerable amount of eyes and stares back at the abyss.

"Is he- wait- if he's more powerful than Azathoth, how can he even exist on the same plane as us? If he's separate from him how is he here?"

The same way he can walk casually with your little meat suit in the human world, that form is just an avatar. An extension of him. Hell! He doesn't even NEED to have a powerful one! In some realities that avatar is a Great Old One born from... Uhh I don't know one of the many kids Azathoth has? It mixes up. For the one you're seeing in our Dreamlands, he hijacked Azathoth's nightmare, the little dancing jester, and used it to conjure a physical form in this reality. To spread his plague of wither and death. An extension of his mockery towards dear old dad. After all, what could be more humiliating than having your own dreams be used to "birth" your ultimate horror? So POETIC! Gah! This is why I love him!

"I... This is too much..."

Oh, I reckon. Sit down! Sit. Not everyone gets to discover how this little globe twirls around without their brains going KA-PLOOSH!

"If he is... Some sort of bringer of death... Why is he desperately trying to keep his city alive? Why does he collect humans? Why does he... Why does he value life if he mocks it?"

Well... That's the mystery isn't it? And I'm sure your little detective mind can figure it out! Oh and we're out of time anyways. I think your King's about to burst through my front door. WOW! He's really clingy isn't he? Luckyfuckingbastard >:(

"Wait, WAIT! I still need to-"

Sorry Artie! This one's all on you now! Oh and I'm keeping your Addison memory jumbled up. He's still mad at me I'm afraid! Sooo BUH-BYE!

"WAIT! OOF-!"

[Arthur disappears]

Well... Let's see how THIS show goes...

[vidavalor]

Great points, @dalliancekay I think it goes under-sung when Aziraphale said that "Go off together? Listen to yourself." Aziraphale was lying through his teeth that entire scene because he had just told Heaven that Warlock wasn't the antichrist and knew when he did that that information was going to get to Satan. He had tried to convince Heaven that it was a ruse on Crowley's part to make Crowley look demonic and try to protect him but he knew that was a hard sell. It also made Aziraphale look like the only person who might know where the real antichrist was, even if he didn't tell Heaven that. (And he was.) Then what happened not long after?

Crowley called him with no new information and asked him to meet him in person at the bandstand. If you were Aziraphale, what would you think might be happening here? You'd be sure that Satan is, at minimum, having you followed, if not about to show up in person here himself. That's if he doesn't show up as Crowley here.

Aziraphale showed up at The Bandstand wringing his hands and looking terrified because he wasn't actually sure what was going to happen. He had to think that Satan was going to be angry about his missing kid. For all Aziraphale knew, Satan had control of Crowley and was using him to get to Aziraphale, who he thought might know where the kid was.

At first, Aziraphale isn't even sure who he's really talking to. It becomes apparent that it's Crowley but then Aziraphale is still understandably paranoid that they're being watched because they basically always are. He answers everything as if Satan is listening which... that's also exactly what's happening in The Final 15, if you ask me. Only, this time, Satan really was there.

Meanwhile, Crowley didn't know any of this-- either time. Aziraphale hadn't had an opportunity to tell him before The Bandstand-- also like The Final 15. Each time, Crowley's worried about a whole other problem. In S2, it's The Book of Life, in S1, it was Earth's about to end and we've failed but maybe we can just run away because what else is there to do? Both times, he's not being mindful of who could be listening and it's left to Aziraphale to try to hide what they are to protect Crowley from himself.

Both times, Crowley is panicking too much to see what's going on with Aziraphale in the moment in a moment when Aziraphale needs him.

"It's The Great Plan, Crowley"... Ah, yes, The Great Plan that Aziraphale just spent over a decade trying to thwart. The one he was trying to thwart a day earlier in Tadfield with Crowley. 😂 This is as complete bullshit as "we're not friends-- I don't even like you." The "go off together? listen to yourself" is just as much, too. You know they talk about how they would if they could. "We're on opposite sides" is really like will you please just stop for one moment and consider that we're standing in the middle of the bloody park and who could hear you saying that?!?!

But what would you do if you were Aziraphale, really? In that moment, he thinks he has no one in their corner and no way to overpower Satan so the only option is always to try to protect Crowley from him. If that means lying through his teeth, so be it. If it means hurting Crowley, well, Aziraphale obviously doesn't *want* to do that but if it's a choice between hurting Crowley or seeing him killed, Aziraphale would choose the former everyday. Better Crowley angry at him than dead.

I have to say that, come S2, if I were Aziraphale and I had just spent the last 6,000+ years doing everything in my power to protect my partner from the all-powerful abusive ex he was damned to for all of eternity and I was so beyond myself with the stress of it that I was considering taking the most obviously untrue offer that had ever existed just on the slimmest of chances it could be true? If I was willing to throw away my whole life for the slimmest of possible chances that I could ensure his safety forever?

And if he wasn't listening to me begging him to hear what I was trying to tell him about what was happening? And then he left me? And then he came back and kissed me and made it completely impossible to ever plausibly deny again what this relationship was to any of the people trying to kill us, including the violent person I knew for a fact was watching us in that moment?

You can bet this would be the look on my face, too.

"We could have been an 'us'." = We could have tried to be a couple, which we've not been before. Not what Crowley chose to say.

"We could have been *us*." = We could have tried to openly be the couple we've been all along. Ourselves as we already are.

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Hey I was re-reading ECM and I noticed how awesome your the writing style was and wanted to know if you'd be willing to share how you write like that?

(I've got exams and have to really work on my english lmao)

Thank-you very much! I'm glad you've enjoyed my writing so much!

(I want to preface any notes here by saying I started seriously writing when I was 12 and I am now... not that. So I have almost 20 years of writing under my belt)

I've actually done a post about writing that gives a few pointers so I won't re-hash those points, but will add a few extras about crafting 💖💖

I know I said I wouldn't re-hash things, but this point always bears merit in saying: the first thing you write is the worst thing you write. It's called a first draft for a reason and you shouldn't be precious about it. That means don't go stressing about getting your phrasing perfect. Rewriting your draft can do wonders (and that doesn't mean you have to completely change things on the rewrite!), especially if you're not a confident writer.

Vary the start of your sentences. It's a very easy habit to fall into (I still do it all the dang time); you write sentence after sentence starting the the subject ('It was...'; 'Peter did...'; 'She saw...' etc). It makes your writing feel repetitive. We fall into patterns in our writing and forcing yourself to think about how you can change up the way your sentences begin within a paragraph is an invaluable challenge. Consider your paragraphs too: when I'm on my first edit, I pay close attention to how they start to ensure they don't all begin the same way. That doesn't mean every sentence has to start differently, but keeping things mixed up adds variety.

Avoid info-dumping. Exposition (where you give relevant background information) is a useful feature but it slows the pace of your story significantly. What I see a lot of fanfic writers do is freeze time (quite often at the very start of the story) to give us 500+ words of information that could have been drip fed over the chapter (or several chapters). I'm absolutely not saying I'm innocent of this - I do it all the time, including the opening to ECM! - but something that I find can help is to a) make it interesting by setting up a mystery that the exposition doesn't answer, b) intersperse exposition with description to keep up the pace or c) try to make your exposition feel as authentic as possible to your narrator.

Be decisive: avoid phrases like 'seemed to' and 'felt like' etc. Instead of, "She seemed to glow with happiness' make it 'She glowed with happiness'. Simple changes like this just make you seem more sure of yourself as a writer because you're committing to the image. Again, this kind of indefinite phrasing is an easy habit to fall into but it's a very easy fix! Very often, the sentence will still make perfect sense if you simply delete these phrases (although sometimes it will need a few minor tweaks).

Metaphors, not similes. Honestly this is just a continuation of the previous rule! Rather than, 'It looked like an ocean of silver', 'An ocean of silver swelled before them' is much more interesting and committed to the bit! Again, that's not to say you can't use similes at all! They're great, but you should ask yourself if a metaphor would be better.

Don't be afraid to extend your metaphors. Extended metaphors are such fun. Consider my earlier example : 'An ocean of silver swelled before them'. If I was to extend this, I'd think about other images associated with the ocean. Waves, tides, sea creatures, the scent and sound of the water. And since I've compared it to silver, I'd also consider things that are semantically connected: gold, copper, jewels like emeralds, sapphires, pearls etc. Then I'd start crafting additional clauses/sentences to build upon that original metaphor.

Brush up on a wider range of writer methods. Honestly, teaching English helped me out a bunch here, but here are a few of my faves: polysyndeton: this is where you list with the same coordinating conjunctions (and, but, so, for etc) rather than commas. If you look at my writing you'd see I do this all the damn time. Anaphora: in the typical form I use it, it's where the start of successive clauses begin with the same opening word/phrase (think like MLK's 'I have a dream speech). Best used in a group of three in my experience. Again I use this all the time. The opposite of this (where successive clauses end in the same word/phrase) is called epistrophe. Oxymoron: a fun one. It's a paradoxical phrase (e.g. burning cold, loving hate etc) Hyperbole: an over-exaggeration (e.g. It's boiling hot. I walked a million miles to get here!). Very fun to use with an unreliable narrator or you want to get across just how unbearable/significant something is (but the key here is that it's got to be obvious you're over-exaggerating!) Synaesthesia: where you mix different senses together (e.g. The lights sang in harmony; the room smelled cold).

Planning does wonders for your story structure. For the longest time I was a 'pantster' and would just throw myself in writing on vibes only, but now I find that knowing where I want to take my story makes it much easier to place critical themes and the much loved foreshadowing.

I hope at least some of these can be helpful to you! These are methods that have helped me over the years, but the beauty of writing is of course that all of us over time develop our own 'voice'! Just because I say these are things I do doesn't mean that's what everyone has to do!

Good luck on your exams too!! 💖

[yanderecrazysie]

Imma bite, may I please ask for a scenario for a yandere soulmate au with yandere Oikawa with the word of 'sub and bottom' written on his arm please

I was laughing so hard at this…

Title: Insulting

Pairings: Yandere! Oikawa Tooru  x F! Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes

AU: Soulmate AU where your soulmate’s first words to you are written somewhere on your body.

Description: Oikawa always knew his soulmate would be someone… special, but he didn’t expect just how much.

You could tell he was a “Prince Charming” type of guy from first sight. He had a smile of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, windswept hair, and a gaggle of girls following him around.

The second semester of the last year of high school was not the ideal time to transfer schools. Everyone was already in cliques and had their friends picked out. You were all alone.

And the prince of the school seemed to sniff that out like a shark with blood in the water. He made a beeline for you, opening his mouth to talk, no doubt about to say something flirty.

The words blurted out of your mouth without you even thinking about it.

“Sub and bottom.”

His mouth dropped. 

The girls seethed with anger, sending you dirty looks. His friends were laughing. And the princely idiot?

He smiled.

“No one’s talked to me like that,” he said, watching your expression fall.

You tugged on your sleeve self-consciously, feeling ill. You’d recognize those words anywhere. This was your soulmate?

The moment your eyes met his, you felt an unmistakable tug in your chest. That awful, sickening little jolt of fate.

Of course it had to be this guy. Of course your soulmate was an idiot pretty boy.

He tilted his head. His gaze was as intense as a cat looking at a mouse. “You felt that too, didn’t you?”

His fangirls and friends looked confused by his words and you realized he must have kept his soulmate mark hidden from them. Right now, the only people in the world who knew you were soulmates were you and him.

You didn’t answer, but your silence was confirmation enough for him. “Well, well,” he grinned, “Looks like this semester just got more interesting.”

You turned on your heels and stormed away. You’d just pretend it never happened. You’d ignore him.

No way was this random guy going to make your school life miserable.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. You refused to look back even though you could feel him watching you. Your classroom was only two doors away. Just a few more steps and you’d be rid of-

“(Y/n)!”

How did he know your name? You kept walking, a chill running down your spine.

“You don’t have to act so shy,” he called out, clearly having the time of his life. Everyone turned to watch you. “We’re only soulmates!”

Gasps rang up and down the hallway. You walked faster, eyes staring at the tile floor. You could hear his steps behind you and your heart began to pound.

“You’re not being very soulmate-like, you know!”

You could sense the teasing in his voice, but there was something darker underneath that. It was as though he knew you couldn’t run from him forever. You could, however, fling the classroom door open and hurry inside, picking a random seat and willing your heart to stop.

You sat stiffly, your nails digging into the wood of your desk. All you could hear was whispering, like the buzzing of bees, as everyone in the class stared back at you. The room began to spin, a sea of muted colors and echoing voices.

The bell rang and the teacher walked inside, a red binder under one arm. The whispering mercifully stopped. But the longer you sat there, the harder it was to breathe. You tried to lose yourself in the teacher’s words, anything to distract yourself from the ringing in your ears and the phantom feeling of him.

The door to the classroom opened and a familiar voice said, “Sorry that I’m late.” 

You froze in place, begging whatever higher power there was out there to make him leave. The teacher didn’t bat an eye, just made a mark on her attendance sheet and said, “Take a seat, Oikawa.”

Oikawa strolled in like he owned the place. A grin played across his lips as his eyes landed on you. He moved past empty seats, heading directly for the one next to you. He pulled out the chair beside you, scraping it loudly across the linoleum. 

He sat down slowly, then leaned in, propping an elbow on his desk. “I was hoping we’d have this class together,” he said softly so only you could hear.

You kept your eyes trained on the whiteboard at the front of the class.

“Guess it’s just fate, huh?” he continued.

You refused to respond. You didn’t even blink. You pretended the words written on the board were more important than the warmth of him sitting so close.

His knee brushed against yours under the desk. You shifted away quickly.

“Your mark,” he murmured, “It’s on your arm, isn’t it?”

Your breath caught in your lungs.

“I could feel it when we met eyes,” he said, voice still too low for anyone else to hear, “You’ve got it too, right? That ache?”

You didn’t respond, but you did let your mind wander. You didn’t feel any sort of ache at all. Was that a good thing or bad?

He leaned in so closely that you could feel the heat of his minty fresh breath.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I won’t show you my mark until you’re ready.”

[workingforitallthetime]

Bro… that podcast made Mack sound deranged… and like, not in the usual good way. Punching and damaging the windscreen because he took “25 minutes” is… bad-deranged.

to the extent that you are serious about the opinion expressed in this ask, i must emphasize that i am not in the business of passing judgment about real life hockey boys, and i am especially not in the business of real life worries about them or their partners.

what i AM in the business of is fiction! and my business happens to have a robust subsidiary in daddy issues, and from that perspective this incident is ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING.

once more with feeling: fiction. fiction fictiony fun fun fiction.

when i listened to the tale of the windshield incident this morning confetti rained down upon me and a giant sign lit up with words spelled in lightbulbs that said GENERATIONAL CYCLE OF ABUSE. where did mack learn this behavior? oh maaaaaaybe from the father who took his frustrations out on his kids via hill sprints? maaaaaaaybe from the guy whose wife once looked directly into the camera and announced with grim matter-of-factness that "i'm not scared of him."?

sheriff rick's in town making sure that everyone's following their program, and i am fully willing to believe that when something didn't go according to sheriff rick's schedule, sheriff rick did not have the healthiest ways of expressing his emotions. i am also fully willing to believe that mack absorbed all of that, learning by example that when your partner unexpectedly inconveniences you it is fine to show your frustration physically, and if anyone objects, you respond by minimizing your actions and blaming them for breaking their own windshield.

FURTHERMORE, i am intrigued by how hockey culture -- a culture in which violence is understood to be a reasonable and even expected response to certain slights -- could reinforce the appropriateness of a reaction like this, to both mack and will. how far would mack have to go before will would identify an act of violence as inappropriate? would he ever?

what i'm saying is that i'd like a scene at the livermore ranch, some kind of family gathering. some kind of mild inconvenience: will forgot the salad they were supposed to bring, or one of the kids hit the switch for the dome light and the battery in the range rover died. mack punches something, breaks something. there's a split second of awkwardness but rick gets the conversation going again. maybe one kid gets a little teary about it and the celebrini cousins make fun of them.

later, in the kitchen, robin catches will's eye. they understand each other. they're not scared.

[seaglassmelody]

Bellara Week Day 6: Serial

Had another little idea I wanted to get out for Bel Week over at @datvcompanionweeks!

Bellara asks Davrin for a favor. Snippet below the cut

----

"Hey Davrin?"

"Hmm?" Davrin looked up from his whittling. "Yeah, Bellara?"

Bellara was seated on the couch across from him in the Lighthouse library, wringing her hands nervously. "If…I had some questions about monster behaviors, would you be willing to answer them?"

Davrin sat back in his chair, fully relaxed. "You planning to go on a hunt?" He teased.

"N-No-" Bellara protested, frowning when she saw the grin on his face. "I just…want to make sure my information is accurate!"

His brow furrowed. "What information? What is this for?"

The responding silence stretched for a few long seconds before he caught her barely-mumbled answer.

"….yserial."

"What was that?"

"It's for my serial!" She blurted. "My heroes have to fight off a forest of monsters to rescue one of their teammates and I want to make sure the monster behavior makes sense!"

Davrin sat for a second, surprised by her outburst, before he chuckled warmly. "You could have just said so. I'm always happy to make sure monster behavior makes sense."

"Really? Thank you Davrin!" Bellara's eyes shone with appreciation as she pulled her notebook from seemingly nowhere. "Ok, so to start, I was trying to figure out if a varterral would be too much in a forest with other monsters…"

----

In my mind's eye he brings her back to his room so he can start showing her his carvings and explains monster anatomy to her so she can describe their movements accurately. They do this for hours. It's way more than she needed to know but her monster fights are going to be SO GOOD guys.