#it was so fun :D but i for sure over exerted myself

[ariaricottoncandy]

VSZ Week 2024, Day 8: Free Day Subz made pancakes :33

[hxney-lemcn]

🌹⚔️😳 with Sebek, please?

a/n: 🫡 here you go. had fun with this one.

tw: Sebek is a bit of a meany

wc: 0.5k

2k follower event | master list

Sebek was always such a pompous little jerk, rattling on about how he was the best retainer, taking his job way too seriously. It annoyed you, especially when he used you as an example of what was wrong in a retainer. Yeah, so maybe you didn’t follow Malleus into the bathroom to make sure there were no assassins, but you weren’t there to hold Malleus’ hand. Not to mention Malleus was one of the top five most powerful mages in all of Twisted Wonderland, did he even need you guys following him around?

The answer was a resounding no.

You could tell that Sebek was deeply insecure. Why else would someone go around shouting about how good they were? But that didn’t mean he could go around putting others down. That was a classic case of bullying, and you were at your wits end. If he called you lazy, uncaring or weak one more time-

“At least I’m not just sitting around,” Sebek huffed, to whom or what, you could care less. “At least I’m constantly trying to improve myself for the sake of Waka-sama unlike some people.” You watched, unamused as his glare crossed yours. Standing up, you stalked over to the half fae.

“I challenge you to a duel,” You declared, fully irritated and ready to put Sebek in his place. 

Yellow-green reptilian eyes widened for a split second before they went back to their determined stare, “I accept.”

That’s how you stood across from Sebek, dull training swords held in your hands. You had done this many times before, honestly, this was basically just another spar, but Sebek seemed to be taking this a bit too seriously. Wooden swords clashing, ducking and dodging, many near misses. You hated to admit that he had some skill, but you suppose he had to if he was guarding the prince of Briar Valley. But in the end, he was still a bit too sloppy for you, and you hit a weak point, effectively pinning him to the ground. 

Panting slightly at the physical exertion, a smug smile tugged at your lips, feeling your pride bloom. Gazes locked, the air around you both was intense, and you weren’t sure you wanted to explore the weird flip in your chest, or how your eyes slowly trailed down to his slightly parted lips. 

“Are we about to kiss right now?” It was a joke on your part, said to try and ease the tense feeling in your chest, but Sebek always took everything seriously.

“Are you serious?!” He shouted, cheeks a bright red and pupils dilated. “D-do you have any idea how such an action would look for Waka-sama?! O-or how that would distract us from our goal?!”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, offering your hand out to the flustered fae, “You need to learn how to let loose.” 

A mistake on your part, as Sebek took your words the wrong way.

“H-HOW DARE YOU IMPLY SUCH ACTIONS!”

[eris223]

@kokkoro tis I, your Secret Santa!

It’s been a pleasure chatting with you these past few weeks. I hope you have a wonderful New Year’s Eve full of relaxation after the craziness of the holidays. I wrote something for you. Just a fun little fic inspired by some of our chats:

Charming Bites & Lady Knights

The parking lot was packed. Lexa’s shoulders slumped, and she pulled into the final available spot, steeling her mind, body, and soul for the inevitable irritation that came with being in a crowd of holiday treat shoppers.

As she slugged through the snow-dusted lot, Lexa reminded herself that this quest came only once a year. Only during the holidays did her mother, who never asked anything of her daughter, request a few charming bites, as she called them. And dammit, Lexa was a noble and true daughter.

So here she stood, calming herself before the local dairy farm and bakery.

The tintinnabulation as she pushed open the heavy door was nearly lost to the constant chatter of bakery employees and frantic customers. Lexa weaved in and out of bustling shoppers, coming to a halt at the end of a ten-person line.

The bakery counter line crawled forward, and every time Lexa dipped her head to the side to gain insight on why the line was moving so slowly, all she saw was a flash of blonde hair attached to a blur of a frenzied yet striking young woman.

“It’s moving slowly, isn’t it, dear?”

Lexa smiled at the old woman who just hopped in line behind her.

“It’s always a mess during the holidays.” Her words were direct and easily interpreted as annoyed, yet the elder’s smile was anything but.

While Lexa was no deipnosophist, she could manage a bit of chit-chat with a kindly old lady who reminded her of her best friend’s doting grandmother. “I think that employee is the only one working the counter. It can’t be easy with this many people,” Lexa motioned towards the counter just as the blonde woman heaved a sigh and greeted the next customer.

“That poor dear,” the old woman clicked her tongue. “We’ll be sure to leave her a nice tip, won’t we?”

Lexa nodded, her cheeks aching with the smile she sported. It wasn’t every day she met someone genuinely kind.

The line still moved at a glacial pace, but with the light and easy conversation with her line partner, the time passed quickly. Soon enough, Lexa stood only two people from the front.

“What do you mean, ��it’s not ready’? I called it in three days ago!”

A hoarse voice crashed into Lexa’s ears, and she whipped her head towards the front of the line. A burly man leaned forward, hands on the counter, shoulders tense, as he continued to berate the pretty employee.

“I left a message on the machine. I said it needed to be ready today!”

“Sir,” the woman’s voice was calm yet peppered with exhaustion, and it was so much more luscious than Lexa anticipated. “Did someone from the bakery call to confirm or give you an order number?”

“Can’t you just give me one of those?” He motioned towards the stack of cakes on the back counter, and Lexa’s skin bristled.

A bout of pure protective nature coursed through her veins as she watched the young woman set her lips in a firm yet polite line.

“I’m sorry, sir, but those are reserved for other custo-”

“This is ridiculous,” he spat at the employee, and Lexa’s muscles tensed. “I can’t believe how far this place has fallen. Hiring fools instead of employees. I want a cake. There are cakes right there…”

Lexa wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword, her leather gauntlet stretching as she flexed her fingers. She drew the blade slow and with purpose, holding it at the ready.

She tapped the tip of her sword to the rude man’s shoulder. “Thou must apologize to the fair maiden. She art naught but a kind woman caught in a difficult situation.”

He turned with malice laced throughout his gaze. “And who do you think you are? Her knight in shining armor?”

Lexa stood tall, her heavy hauberk shifting and jingling, filling her with pride and confidence. “If she would permit me to be, aye.”

She spared a glance to the maiden in question, and the small nod Lexa received bolstered her further. “Apologize, or I will be duty-bound to defend her honor.”

The man gave Lexa an acute once over, sizing up his competition. With a low growl, he reached behind him, pulling a longsword from the scabbard on his back.

The metal blade scraped loud and dull against his sheath, and Lexa smirked. An expert swordsman could draw silently. This oaf was just a rude buffoon who needed to be taught a lesson in humility.

He swung without warning, his four-foot blade slicing through the air. Lexa, much quicker with her arming sword, ducked beneath the clumsy attempt.

With a flash of steel, Lexa whipped her lighter and swifter sword low, confident her foe would be unable to block such a blow. As her blade clanged hard against his battle-battered greaves, he stumbled backwards.

Lexa leapt into action, assaulting the retreating man with a succession of sudden attacks.

He grunted, his breath drawing in quick bursts with the peripeteia of combat. Emboldened by her enemy’s perpetually slower parries, Lexa ducked under a final graceless swing and landed a devastating blow to the center of his cuirass.

The large man stumbled, and this time, fell to his knees. Chest heaving with exertion, Lexa held the tip of her sword to the soft underside of his throat. “Thou hast lost. Apologize.”

“Dear? It’s your turn.”

Lexa shook her head, ridding her overactive mind of knights and chivalry. She cleared her throat and stepped up to the counter.

“Hi.”

The blonde employee was overwhelmingly gorgeous, with bonhomie dripping from her eyes down to the soft smile adorning her lips. Despite the heat in her cheeks and the fluttering in the pit of her stomach, a halcyon wave crashed around Lexa. After what seemed like an eternity, she muttered back a simple greeting.

“What can I do for you today?” The woman rested her hands gently on the counter in front of her, and Lexa, the suddenly smitten woman she was, completely forgot the reason she was actually there. She thought of nothing but the rude man who insulted this beauteous creature before her.

“I would like to formally apologize on behalf of that man from earlier.” Lexa locked eyes with brilliant blue. “He was out of line, and you were nothing but professional and courteous towards him-” Lexa leaned forward to get a better view of the simple name tag pinned to the woman’s white shirt. “Clarke,” she added with a smile.

“That’s sweet of you to say. Thank you,” Clarke bit back her smile. She dropped her voice low, and with a little twinkle in her eye, nodded behind Lexa. “But if you don’t order something in the next ten seconds, you’re going to be witness to a whole lot more rude customers.”

“Right, sorry,” Lexa mumbled as she tried desperately to contain her blushing cheeks. “Half a dozen cannolis, half a dozen peanut butter cookies, and one cream puff, please.”

“Just one cream puff?” Clarke paused, the pastry box half-popped open in her hand.

“I get one for myself every year. A little treat,” Lexa shrugged as she watched Clarke expertly pluck two fluffy pastry cream-filled treats into the box. “Oh, just one.”

Clarke looked up from the display case with a smile so big and bright she could have lit the night sky. “Try meat.” Her full cheeks ignited into an impressive array of pinks and reds as she manically shook her head. “My treat,” Clarke corrected, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile at the fluster-induced spoonerism.

“For being my knight in shining armor,” Clarke finished with a wink that transferred that impressive blush from her cheeks straight to Lexa’s. Her heart triple-timed, desperate to catch up to her racing brain. It wasn’t every day she met a beautiful woman who perhaps, just maybe, shared her slight obsession with lady knights.

“Can you please stop flirting and get on with your job?”

Lexa whipped around, shooting a death glare to the middle-aged woman standing three customers back. “Some of us have better things to do than watch this-” she waved her hand dismissively towards Lexa and Clarke. “Whatever this is.”

“Yeah, flirt on your own time!” Another snappy customer shouted, starting a low rumble of assertion that quickly grew to a cacophonous roar.

Lexa’s jaw hardened. In the minute she’d been standing there, Clarke had never stopped moving. The entire time they were talking, Clarke had been expertly plucking treats from the display case and packaging them neatly. These chthonian people should just crawl back under the filthy rock they came from.

“A little patience goes a long way,” Lexa narrowed her eyes at the woman who started it all.

She was met with a sneer that stoked the fire of anger deep within her belly. Lexa wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword once again. “I wish you all no harm, but if provoked, I will respond with force.”

The corybantic crowd drew their weapons: long swords, daggers, maces, axes, all glistened under the fluorescent lights.

Lexa waited atiptoe for some fool to make the first mistake. But her patience soon wore thin, and unwilling to be caught unprepared, she pulled her own knightly sword from her hip.

A jumble of footsteps echoed behind her, and Lexa gasped as Clarke, donned in a black Gambeson cinched around her waist with a golden belt and sheath, leapt over the bakery counter. Her boot-clad feet landed with a graceful thump, and she drew her own arming sword.

Lexa wanted to exclaim, to ask a million questions, but the crowd around inched forward. The gleam of polished steel glinted in her eyes. The stuttered adrenaline-infused breaths prickled her ears.

Lexa tightened her grip around the leather-clad hilt, her muscles coiled and ready. Clarke’s back pressed against hers as they both took cautious steps, painting an unseen circle on the old hardwood floors, surveying their numerous enemies.

The ephemeral dance ended in a flick of a wrist. The crowd fell in on them, a mess of steel and wood. Clang after clang, Lexa deflected the attacks, all the while keeping an alert ear to the sound of Clarke fighting.

Her fair maiden was no amateur.

The whistle of a well-made blade cut through the air behind her like a song of combat. Clarke’s back bumped against hers as a particularly devious blow caught Lexa’s sword.

A steady hand grasped her free one, and with a knowing squeeze, they twirled on their heels, exchanging foes in a deadly dance that couldn’t have been better choreographed if they tried.

They fought, side by side, deflecting here, helping there, until their foes we’re nothing more but a groaning mess of plate armor and chainmail amongst the floorboards.

Lexa wiped the sweat from her brow, sheathing her sword with a satisfied smirk. “My lady,” Lexa assessed the destruction around them.  “You wield a sword to rival me.”

With a satisfied twirl of her blade, Clarke slipped the weapon securely into her sheath. “I expect not a savior, but a partner, my good dame.”

She smirked at Lexa, all satisfied and battle lust-filled. The kilig was unbearable, so Lexa took a bold step forward, wrapped her hand around Clarke’s neck, and leaned in.

“I’ll be right with the next customer,” Clarke smiled politely to the back of the crowd. She caught Lexa’s gaze, her face a little more flushed. “Thirty-seven dollars even.”

Lexa signed the electronic pad and accepted the pastry box from Clarke. With nothing more than a shy smile, she sulked towards the door, mindful to give that middle-aged love-hater an intimidating glare as she passed.

“Dear, this is unacceptable.”

Lexa turned around just in time to be leveled with a heartbreaking disappoint glare that grandmothers executed with perfection. Her line partner heaved a heavy sigh, her plastic shopping bag crinkling against her long coat in the process.

“What do you mean?” Lexa swallowed down the urge to cower.

“This shilly-shally-” she waved frantically at Lexa. “Just ask that young lady out. There isn’t a nobler cause in the world than matters of the heart, dear.”

The woman was right.

Lexa squared her shoulders and marched straight to the front of the line, ignoring several annoyed glares in the process. But when she reached the display case, Clarke was nowhere to be found. A chipper brunette stood in her place, tending to customers with a smile too big to be considered normal.

A few more frantic minutes were spent scouring the shop, and when she finally caved and asked an employee, she was informed that Clarke had been sent home for the day.

Lexa sulked out of the bakery, slipping the pastry box carefully into the passenger seat of her car. Her fingers gripped the keys, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of blonde.

Keys forgotten, Lexa hopped out of the car.

Clarke whirled around the parking lot, her unbuttoned coat fluttering in the freezing wind, searching for something. She turned down Lexa’s row. Her frantic movements halted.

Lexa offered a gentle wave, and Clarke began the slow walk towards her. The closer she came, the more manic Lexa’s heart. Clarke, rid of her bakery uniform, strode towards her with a gleam in her eyes. Her jeans, the midnight blue scarf tied haphazardly around her neck, the little gray beanie perched atop her blonde waves, it all added to the gawsy appeal.

“Hi.”

A glorious gallimaufry of emotions washed over Lexa with that one word. Her stomach fluttered, her brain fuzzed, and her fingers tingled with the need to touch. But Lexa stamped it all down and smiled a simple, “Hello.”

Clarke shoved her hands in her pockets, suddenly insecure, the vicissitudes of her emotions written plainly on her face. “My replacement finally showed up,” she mumbled into the frigid air.

“Long day?”

“The longest.” Clarke shifted from foot to foot, and the wind caught the lapels of her winter coat. A flash of a familiar symbol burned into Lexa’s eyes. A logo.

Not just any logo. The logo to the state renaissance faire. A faire Lexa regularly frequented during its season, soaking in the swordplay and artisans, the weaponry and the atmosphere. And here her new love was, standing before her, broadcasting to the world her interest in medieval merriment.

If Lexa wasn’t already a mess from a simple conversation in the bakery, she certainly was a catastrophe now.

“Would you like to get a drink with me?” Clarke’s voice held none of the worries her body showed.

Lexa stepped forward, grasped Clarke’s hand, and pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckles. With gentle flourish, because what kind of noble knight would she be if she denied a lady such as Clarke a swoon-worthy acceptance, Lexa nodded, “It would be my honor.”

[squirmymochi]

omovember day 20 - using a pillow to help hold it in - klance

Read it here or on Ao3!

edit: here’s my omo fic commission info ;)

Lance ruts against the pillow again, his teeth sinking into his lip as his bladder throbs beneath his skin. He’s kneeling on his bed in the castle with his fluffiest, softest pillow stuffed between his legs, his hands pressing into the thick, feathery material to add some pressure to his crotch. He lets out an involuntary whine as his bladder pulses again, all the water and juice from earlier in the day practically begging to get out.

He hasn’t had a chance to go to the bathroom since he’d woken up that morning--he’d been too busy with training, gaming with Pidge, and helping Hunk bake cookies for the rest of the team--and now everything he’d drank up until that point is catching up with him quickly. He’d started to get the urge to go around two hours ago, but he’d been having so much fun with his friends that he’d put it off until the last minute, and before he’d actually had a chance to go, Coran had declared that it was time to clean the castle and closed off the bathrooms.

He curses himself for not speaking up before the others had gotten to work--it wouldn’t have taken very long, only one or two minutes and then he’d be out and ready to help. But he couldn’t bring himself to voice his need in front of everyone--that would have been far too embarrassing, even for him. And now, almost an hour later, he’s absolutely at his limit, resorting to practically humping a pillow to keep the ocean in his bladder from leaking out.

Another small, breathy wine escapes past his lips as a jet of piss forces itself past his sphincter muscles and leaks into his urethra. He can practically feel it at his entrance, seconds away from spurting its way out. No, no, no, he thinks with a groan, shoving the pillow further into his crotch and rolling his hips into it desperately, doing everything he can to hold it in. The added pressure helps to keep him in control, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable happens.

It feels like his bladder is at maximum capacity--he’s positive that he’s never been this desperate in his life. At this point, he’s not even sure that he can stand up without completely soaking his pants, let alone make it to the bathrooms on the other side of the hall. He feels sweat bead across his forehead and drip down the tense lines of muscle on his back from the exertion of holding his piss. He’s shaking, vibrating uncontrollably, which does nothing to help his situation, but he can’t help it. He’s running out of time, and quickly.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a knock at his door, followed by Keith’s voice calling out a soft, “Lance?”

Fuck! Lance thinks as a short stream of piss leaks past his opening and dampens the crotch of his boxers. Keith, please, please just go away!

“Are you in there?” Keith asks from the other side. To Lance’s horror, the door begins to slide open as he speaks. He barely has time to change positions, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the pillow on top of his lap and his hands on top of the pillow, before Keith steps into the room.

“H-Hey, buddy,” he stammers, hoping his sweating and vibrating isn’t too noticeable. Keith eyes him suspiciously, and he resists the urge to squirm under his gaze--for more reasons than one.

“What are you doing in here?” Keith asks slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Everyone’s helping clean the castle.”

“I-I was just, ah, cleaning my room,” Lance grits out, trying to subtly press his hands into the pillow to gain some relief.

“Why?” Keith asks, looking around. “It’s already clean. Shouldn’t you be helping the rest of us?”

“I will!” Lance squeaks, pressing his thighs together as tight as he can. “I’ll be out in-mmh! I’ll be out in a second.”

Now please, he adds mentally, get out before I completely embarrass myself in front of you!

Keith doesn’t look satisfied with his answer in the slightest. He crosses his arm, leaning against the doorframe and fixing Lance with an unamused stare. Lance can feel beads of sweat dripping down his temple, and unfortunately for him, Keith seems to notice them as well.

“Are you sick?” he asks with a frown, pushing himself off the wall and taking a few steps towards the bed. Lance leans back, taking a hand off the pillow to wipe at his face and mourning the pressure on his crotch.

“I’m fine!” he assures Keith, shifting his hips subtly as he returns his hand to its original position. “It’s, um, it’s just a little hot in here.”

“You’re flushed,” Keith says, ignoring his excuses and pressing a hand against his forehead. His skin is cool and rough and calloused, and normally Lance would be reveling in the contact, but right now all it does is take some of his attention away from his dire need to pee. “Have you been drinking enough?”

Way too much, Lance’s brain answers for him, his bladder throbbing once again. He presses the pillow against his crotch even harder, hoping it comes across as natural. “I’m good,” he promises breathily, arching his back in an attempt to grind his dick into the mattress beneath him.

Once again, Keith doesn’t seem convinced. “Should I go get Coran?” he asks, his tone almost concerned.

“No!” Lance exclaims, eyes going wide. The last thing he needs is another person in his room, watching him try to keep it together. Plus, that would mean Coran would take longer to clean the bathrooms, and that’s certainly not gonna do anything in Lance’s favor.

“Well, what should I do?” Keith demands, a crease forming between his brows. “There’s clearly something wrong, so just spit it out already.”

“There’s nothing wrong! I just- ohh!”

Lance cuts himself off with a moan, doubling over and shoving the pillow in between his legs hard as a long spurt of piss dribbles out of him. He rocks his hips from side to side frantically, rubbing his thighs together and clenching every muscle in his body in an attempt to keep what feels like literal gallons of pee inside him. He can’t help but let out another moan as he cuts off the tiny stream. It’s pure torture, having tasted sweet, sweet relief only to have it taken away from him a second later.

He’s only reminded of Keith’s presence a few seconds later, once he’s managed to get the unbearable urge under control. Immediately, he straightens his posture and relaxes his grip on the pillow, but it’s too late to save his dignity.

“You have to pee,” Keith states blankly, almost as if he doesn’t believe it. Lance wants to deny it, but he knows there’s no point anymore, not when it’s so painfully, blatantly obvious.

“Y-Yeah,” he confirms shakily, involuntarily rolling his hips up into the pillow again. Keith stares at him unsurely, not saying a word.

“I- I would have gone earlier, but- ah- but I kept getting swept up into different stuff, and then- oh god- Coran decided to clean the bathrooms, so I couldn’t.”

Keith keeps staring at him, his eyes darting down to the pillow still clutched against his crotch before coming back up to his flushed, sweaty face.

“I…” he starts, but nothing else comes out. If Lance isn’t mistaken, he almost seems to be blushing.

He doesn’t really have time to focus on Keith’s status, though. He’s so desperate, he feels like he’s about to pop like an overfilled water balloon.

God, don’t think about water! his brain screams as another tiny dribble leaks out of him. He can’t help but let out an embarrassingly needy groan, bucking up into the pillow again.

His actions seem to snap Keith out of whatever trance he’s in. He blinks a few times, fast, then takes a half step forward, arm outstretched as if he wants to help but doesn’t know what to do.

“Are you gonna make it?” he asks, a little awkwardly. Lance whimpers, feeling more sweat bead on his forehead.

“I dunno,” he admits truthfully, moving a hand under the pillow to get a better grip. “Shit, Keith, I really have to go.”

He barely resists shoving his hand down his pants for better access--because grabbing himself in front of Keith is embarrassing enough without having his hand directly on his dick--but he does pop the button on his jeans. He’s met with a tiny bit of relief, but it’s nowhere near the kind he so desperately needs.

“Is there… Is there anything I can do?” Keith fumbles, and yep, he’s definitely blushing. As if he’s the one who should be flustered.

“U-Unless you can magically make Coran get- oh- get out of the bathroom, t-then no,” Lance replies, then cuts himself off with a sharp hiss as another small stream of piss leaks out of his tip. I’m really not gonna make it much longer!

“I can ask him how much longer it’ll take? Or- or maybe I can distract him so he leaves, and then- um… I don’t know…”

Keith shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Lance shudders, grinding up into the pillow and feeling the soft warm wetness of his boxers enveloping the head of his dick.

“I d-don’t want to bother him,” he manages, shaking his head from side to side. Keith stares at him incredulously, all of his earlier embarrassment gone.

“You don’t want to bother him?” he repeats, disbelieving. “Lance, you’re in pain. He isn’t going to mind, especially since it’s so… urgent.”

“I can wait,” Lance huffs, ignoring the signs from his body screaming that he very obviously can’t wait. Keith fixes him with an unconvinced stare as he squirms from side to side. His stormy purple gaze makes Lance shiver, and if he hadn’t already been at his most uncomfortable, that certainly wouldn’t have helped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Coran,” he says at last, turning towards the door. Lance feels panic rising up in his chest, and before he can stop to think he’s scrambling to get off the bed and stop him, the pillow shifting back between his legs.

“No, Keith, I- oh my god!”

He cuts himself off with a gasp as a long jet of piss escapes, soaking through his boxers and into the fabric of his jeans before he can stop it. He doesn’t want to stop it--in fact, the last thing he wants to do right now is quit peeing--but he has no choice. He absolutely will not wet himself like a little child, and especially not in front of Keith, of all people. With all the self control that he can possibly muster and the help of his hands and the pillow, he cuts off the stream, letting out a pathetic little whine as he does so.

It hurts. It hurts to stop after so many hours of holding it in, after almost getting the relief he craves. In fact, he can feel a few tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stops himself. He clenches every muscle in his body, squeezing his eyes shut and rocking his hips from side to side as another small squirt escapes him, then another. It takes everything he has to get himself back under control, and even then he can still feel a sizeable wet patch on the crotch of his jeans. Oh god, it’s probably bleeding into the pillow, too.

He pries his eyes open and glances down, dismayed to find that there is in fact a small wet circle on the front of the pillow. His eyes dart up to meet Keith’s, and he’s surprised to find a flush of pink on the other boy’s cheeks. He’s the one who’s blushing? Why?

Lance doesn’t have time to think much about that. Almost as soon as he’s fought off the first wave of desperation, another stronger one washes over him. He groans, tensing his muscles again and panting from the effort of holding it in, but this time it’s not enough. A seven-second spurt pushes its way past his clenched muscles and wets the pillow, although it barely brings him any relief. More tears join the few already in his eyes at the realization that he’s not gonna make it, no matter how hard he tries.

Keith seems to have come to the same conclusion, because a few seconds later, he comes to stand by Lance’s side. A hand massages careful circles onto his back, which is strangely comforting considering it’s coming from Voltron’s most socially inept paladin.

“Lance,” Keith says softly, still a bit awkward. “I think you might have to give up.”

“W-What?” Lance chokes out, then cuts himself off with another moan. “No, I can’t-ah-I can’t give up! I’m not a l-little kid!”

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Keith points out. “And besides, I doubt you can hold out until you get to the bathroom, let alone until Coran is done cleaning it.”

“I can!” Lance protests through gritted teeth, his face flushing even brighter at the accusation. To prove his point, he goes to take a step towards the door, and suddenly his bladder can’t handle it anymore. The pressure of the waistband of his jeans digging into his abdomen coupled with the weight of gravity pulling the water inside him down proves to be his undoing, and before he even realizes what’s happening, hot piss shoots out of him. The wet patch on the front of his jeans starts growing until it can’t keep up, and warm wetness starts saturating the top of the pillow he still has pressed between his legs.

He clenches his sphincter muscles with a groan, pressing his hands into his crotch in an attempt to hold back the rest of the flow, but it’s no use. He’s too weak and exhausted from holding so long to maintain control, and the flow barely slows down at all when he tries to cut it off. He sags against the bed defeatedly, tipping his head back and letting out an embarrassingly relieved moan, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he stops trying to hold it in. It feels amazing, like taking a breath after a year without oxygen. He can’t help but wonder if holding for so long might even be worth it, just to feel like this again.

He’d almost forgotten that Keith was in the room, too caught up in his euphoric state to remember much of anything. But once his bladder has emptied most of itself and he starts to come back to his senses, the first thing he sees is his fellow paladin’s face. Keith is blushing almost as hard as Lance imagines he is, although probably for different reasons. He’s completely frozen in place, too, eyes transfixed on Lance as he finishes wetting himself and the pillow, which is squishy and completely drenched beneath him. His mouth opens and closes a few times, but nothing comes out.

Lance is almost too tired and relieved for the flaming embarrassment he should be feeling--almost. He averts his eyes in shame and hopes that Keith isn’t really there, that he didn’t really see that. After all, something like this would be hard enough to hide in the mind-linking exercises Allura has them do on the daily without Keith having witnessed it. He’ll probably tell Shiro, and Shiro will tell Allura, and soon enough the entire castle will know, space mice included.

He feels tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, but before he can start crying for real, Keith’s voice calls him back to attention.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, taking a step forward with a hand half-outstretched. Lance blinks up at him, his eyes watery and mouth pressed into a thin line.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Keith continues, finally setting a hand on his shoulder. His voice is surprisingly judgement-free. “You did your best, but it was inevitable. Plus, it could have happened to anyone. So don’t feel bad about it, okay, Lance?”

Lance sniffs, bringing a sleeve up to wipe at his nose and flinching when he feels that it’s damp. He looks down at his clothes and the pillow, wet patches clearly visible on both, and looks away again miserably. “I- I ruined my stuff,” he sniffles. “Everyone’s gonna find out…”

“I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll help you clean everything, too. It’ll be our secret.”

Keith smiles, hesitant but reassuring, and even though the tips of his ears are still pink and he’s still awkwardly bent over so he doesn’t touch the wet pillow, Lance finds that he believes him. “Okay,” he says, almost timidly, wiping at his eyes with his other sleeve.

“Okay,” Keith repeats, a little more confident this time. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

[kanasmusings]

[Translation] TsukiPro Yaminabe Drama CD Vol. 1 Track 2 - “Talk Show With Two Bad Talkers”

What an unusual but really cute pairing~! Dai and Ren really make for a cute older bro-younger pro pair XD Also, “Honey and Darling” make a brief appearance here, really brief but, super funny! I really love Shiki’s slightly quirky personality when he’s making fun of Tsubasa wwww 

Oh yeah, the lines where it’s just Ren talking is just him narrating or talking to himself.

Anyways, thank you to Deea for sharing with me the files~! Please don’t ask her for them as per her request, thank you ^^

※ Please don’t re-post the English translations without permission. Please just like/reblog them instead ^^

Under the cut, enjoy~!

[TsukiPro Daily Life Small Talk – Yaminabe Drama]

Track 02: [口下手二人のトークショー] “Talk Show With Two Bad Talkers”

[0:00]

  REN: Ever since I was young, I was called things like, “behaved”, “reserved”, “try to stand out a bit more” and other such stuff.

REN: I am aware of those and even though I was thinking about what to do about it, I ended up not being able to do anything and am presently here right now.

REN: Elementary school, middle school… I tried imitating a lot of speech and manners in order to improve myself and I even asked my teachers for advice.

REN: I planned to train myself during kendo practice and even at piano rehearsals.

REN: But in the end, trying to stand out more and more was difficult…

REN: By the time I got to high school, I just accepted that this was the kind of person I am. I sort of half gave up and half convinced myself that it was like that.

REN: But… I think that it would have been better if I exerted more effort rather than just giving up and convincing myself this was okay…

REN: At least… that’s how I feel.

REN: And also because… it felt kind of suffocating staying like this.

  REN: (sighs) Wh-wh-wh-wh-what should I do…? (takes a deep breath)

DAI: Hm?

REN: (to himself) With Dai-san�� A talk show with the SolidS’ Murase Dai-san who exudes such a vigorous aura…!

REN: (to himself) This is bad…!

REN: This all started after I popped in to the agency on my way home from school.

REN: It was the formal meeting at the end of the month. I knew that we would be having a meeting with the office workers.

REN: SOARA typically does meetings one by one at least once a month.

REN: They’re courteous with us about our private matters or school schedules as we discuss our work and lesson schedules for the next month.

REN: Of course, the schedules are not completely permanent.

REN: The advertising part and the work we’re supposed to do need to be coordinated properly so, it’s not impossible that meetings would be stretched to a few days.

REN: But, most of those plans and responsibilities are generally resolved in these meetings.

REN: And now, even I started coordinating with the office workers about my activities that I received from a call and a note just 10 minutes ago.

REN: Well, it was peaceful until that moment.

REN: Yes… Until that moment.

[02:51]

  STAFF: Lately, requests for SOARA to appear in news and articles has increased, huh.

STAFF: I’m sure that it’s all thanks to your hard work (smiles).

REN: Thank you very much!

STAFF: Looking at how things are going… It won’t be long before you have your exclusive manager!

REN: An exclusive mana—You mean, our own manager, correct?

STAFF: Yeah. SOARA still doesn’t have an exclusive manager, right?

STAFF: Since you’re fairly new, the agency managers take turns managing you depending on who’s free, right?

REN: Ah, yes. We haven’t had an event in a really huge place yet and we’ve only been doing interviews for magazines and ladies’ magazines, too.

STAFF: I’m sure that you’d get more jobs where you’ll perform soon, too~

STAFF: I heard that the photo-book that was recently published was selling well. The President was happy about it, too!

REN: The President was…?

STAFF: (chuckles) It doesn’t look it but that person really watches over everyone and gets information about his talents quicker than anyone else.

STAFF: He also has a lot of mysterious info.

REN: (chuckles nervously) H-he’s as mysterious as usual, huh…

STAFF: (chuckles) You got that right.

  STAFF B: Ah, Ren-kun! Perfect timing.

REN: Eh?

[04:07]

  REN: (to himself) Honestly speaking, I felt that bad things would happen during this incident.

REN: “Perfect timing,” hearing those words before the actual conversation doesn’t really mean that the outcome would be “perfect”…

REN: I’ve learned that already despite being alive in this world for only a short while.

REN: I think a lot about how I’m the type who doesn’t like pushing people around but rather, I’m the one getting dragged along most of the time but…

REN: At times like these, normally… I feel like I’ll get assigned to do something difficult or worrisome…

REN: My intuition is most of the time correct when the conclusion comes around.

REN: That is because… that “conclusion” is the current situation I’m in right now…

REN: It was a live radio broadcast where a host asks different male talents different questions about a lot of things.

REN: Today’s guest was an artist who was scheduled to return from his first tour in America.

REN: However, because of some engine trouble in the air, the airplane had to make an emergency landing somewhere else and he couldn’t make it to the recording.

REN: Then, while looking for replacements to go on the radio show, they went and asked the people who were already in the building with them. That was me and Dai-san.

REN: A talk show where we were suddenly called…

REN: And to top it off, it’s with this pairing who don’t talk much and have never had much interaction before.

REN: I think that… it’s not unusual for my face to look so scared… Right…?

[05:55]

  REN: (to himself) Ah… Why did it have to be this pairing of all things?

STAFF: (pats Ren’s back) R-Ren-kun, good luck…! Just think of this as a chance to promote SOARA…!

REN: A-ah… Yes, you’re right. (Ren takes a deep breath) Alright…!

(Ren walks over to Dai)

REN: Da—

DAI: Hm?

REN: Is Dai-san, u-um…

DAI: Ah…

REN: Were you called over by the Producer too because you were in the agency building?

REN: I was talking with the office staff when I was caugh—Ah, no… When I was called over.

DAI: I see. I was doing dance lessons at the studio downstairs when I was caugh—When I was called over.

REN: Eh? Is that so?

DAI: Yeah.

REN: (nervous) Ah…

DAI: Hm?

REN: (takes a deep breath and sighs) The dance…! Was it difficult…?

DAI: No, not so much. I’ve always loved moving my body a lot after all.

DAI: I did swimming before, too.

REN: Ah! I knew about that. You participated in competitions, too, didn’t you?

DAI: Though I injured my shoulder and I couldn’t continue competitively anymore.

REN: Ah… Th-that’s right… I-I knew a little about that as well…

DAI: Really?

REN: (to himself) I’m so stupid…! Just when we were finally having a decent conversation…

REN: (sighs) (to himself) Awkward… This is extremely awkward… I’m sure that Dai-san thinks so, too…

REN: (to himself) Something… Is there something we can talk about…?

REN: (sighs) (to himself) This is so unnerving…

[07:57]

  REN: (to himself) Why was I scheduled for a meeting today of all days…?

REN: That’s what I honestly thought.

REN: If I had been with Nozomu or Sora-senpai, or Mori-senpai, or Sou-nii then…

REN: In other words… If I were partnered with anyone else except for SOARA…

REN: I might become better at conversing…

REN: “Plus, isn’t this a chance to make them remember my name and face?” is what I say to motivate myself…

REN: “I was lucky. It was good timing.”

REN: Maybe I should promote SOARA just like the staff said… was what I wanted to think.

REN: But, before anything could begin, my own frustrations set me back… I’m so pathetic…

[08:53]

  REN: (sighs) (to himself) What should I do?

DAI: You…

DAI: You do sports too, don’t you, Ren? Kendo, right?

REN: Eh?

REN: (flustered) A-ah, yes! I did! Ah, no—I still do!

DAI: I know. Even now, you train every morning at the practice room, don’t you?

REN: Yes! But, I’m surprised you kne—Ah, I see… Dai-san and Rikka-san go running early in the morning, right?

REN: Do you always run?

DAI: Yeah. On days when we don’t have anything scheduled. We feel like it’ll help us wake up if we go running.

REN: I see!

DAI: Also, I really love how the morning feels.

REN: I know what you mean! I love the morning’s relaxing atmosphere and it feels good for some reason.

DAI: Right? I love it, too.

REN: Ah…!

DAI: Is there someone from SOARA who’s weak with mornings?

REN: Sora-senpai and Nozomu are, I’d say.

REN: Sora-senpai stays up late because of song writing so maybe that’s why. Nozomu’s weakness is of his own fault though.

REN: He stays up late surfing the net or playing games. He plays a lot of things (chuckles).

REN: What about anyone from SolidS?

DAI: I’d say Tsubasa’s probably similar.

DAI: He’s the type who does a lot of different things until he’s—no, even when he’s sleepy.

DAI: He has a lot of places he wants to go to or things he wants to do but since there’s not a lot of time, he feels like going to sleep is a waste.

DAI: In a way, that’s powerful, right?

REN: Ah, Tsubasa-san seems like he has a lot of interests, huh?

REN: (chuckles) He’s well-informed, he’s light on his feet, and he seems like the type who’d discover a good shop before it became mainstream.

DAI: Exactly. That’s why there are a lot of times he goes home late.

DAI: Oh yeah. That reminds me of when he called me at a very weird time and Shiki and I had to go pick him up.

REN: Eh? Picked him up? Was he drunk or something?

DAI: That’s what you’d think, right? It was unexpectedly not so.

DAI: That guy knows how to drink and he holds his alcohol well.

REN: I guess it would be rude to say if I said that was my image of him. Everyone in SolidS can hold their alcohol, right?

DAI: Actually, yeah. I think I’m the weakest one in SolidS.

DAI: Even so, if compared to your average person, I’d probably be normal or a bit above average [with holding my alcohol].

DAI: The other three are way above that.

REN: Eh~? Everyone in SolidS is so amazing~

REN: Oh? Then, why did Tsubasa-san—

DAI: Call for me?

DAI: That was after that guy went out drinking after not noticing he forgot his wallet.

DAI: He noticed it when he was at the register and he tried paying using his phone but it didn’t work.

DAI: He called me way past midnight when the trains weren’t running anymore and…

  (flashback to Dai and Tsubasa’s conversation)

TSUBASA: (over the phone) Hello, Dai-chan?! You picked up. I’m so relieved~! I’m saved!

TSUBASA: (over the phone) Where are you right now, Dai-chan?

DAI: Huh? Sleeping in the dorms, of course.

DAI: Tsubasa, you… What time do you think it is—

TSUBASA: (over the phone) I’m really sorry! Really, I am!

TSUBASA: (over the phone) I’ll treat you to how much you want and I’ll do anything you want after so… Please come and save me!

DAI: Huh?! You… What are you doing, really?

TSUBASA: (over the phone) Uh… Dai-chan, I’m sorry. Actually, I—

[12:44]

  SHIKI: Hm? Dai, where are you going at this hour? An emergency?

DAI: Ah, no. Well, I guess you can call it an emergency but… not really for me. Tsubasa is…

SHIKI: (excitedly) Tsubasa?!

  (Dai and Shiki walking over to Tsubasa)

TSUBASA:  Ah, Dai-chan, you came—UGH!!

SHIKI: Rejoice. I have come to pick you up personally, my careless honey who forgot his wallet at home~

TSUBASA: Eh? Oh my, darling~ Thank you for picking me up~…

TSUBASA: (nervous chuckle) M-man, I—I really am loved, huh~…

SHIKI: (sighs) How unsightly for a TsukiPro talent. Had you made one more mistake, you’d have left without paying your bill.

SHIKI: Ah, how truly unsightly.

TSUBASA: AH! I’m sorry! I just forgot to check if it was in my bag before I left!

SHIKI: Okui Tsubasa. You are not to leave the dorm after curfew for two weeks.

TSUBASA: WHAT?! A curfew?! What’s with that? Am I some kinda middle schooler to you!?

TSUBASA: That doesn’t apply now, does it?!

SHIKI: It may or may not but, it certainly should apply to you who bothered his brother so late in the night to help save his butt because he wasn’t aware of his standing after he debuted professionally even after he was told to be careful.

TSUBASA: You’re lecturing for once…! But it’s so annoying!

SHIKI: Still, there is no doubt that this is a lecture. Are you defying me? Are you defying me, hm~?

TSUBASA: (groans) Damn it…!

SHIKI: That’s it, that’s it. I’ll say these lines to make it concrete.

SHIKI: This is an order from your Producer!

TSUBASA: AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

DAI: You guys… I’m surprised that you can fight so loudly this late at night.

DAI: I’m really sleepy, you know?

(flashback ends)

[14:40]

  REN: Th-that was… It was fortunate that you were there, huh, Dai-san?

DAI: Right? In the end, Tsubasa had to obey curfew for two weeks.

REN: (chuckles) He can’t defy the Producer’s orders after all~

  STAFF: Murase-san, Munakata-san, the preparations are already over so can we ask you to go on stand-by, please?

REN: Ah, yes!

DAI: Yes.

(Dai and Ren take their seats)

STAFF: I’ll arrange the mic, okay?

REN: Ah, yes please.

DAI: (whispering to Ren) A talk show really makes one nervous, huh?

REN: (chuckles)

  ==END==

※ Please don’t re-post the English translations without permission.

If you like this, please consider buying me a ko-fi here to support my work. (o^▽^o)Thank you!!

[anathtsurugi]

So I’m pretty sure I’ve broken a rather sizeable chunk of the Kalluzeb fandom with the most recent chapter of The Colder the Winter. As such, I decided to take a little break from mind breaking and write something a little more...pleasurable, as it were. I’d hoped to have this done for May 4th, but it didn’t quite materialize in time, so here we are now. The last time I wrote something hardcore for the boys was back during Inexorable and, let’s face it, that wasn’t exactly a fun scenario, so we’ll be having a lot more fun this time around. ;D

Once again, we have @jellysharkbat‘s lovely head canons to thank for this one (several of them at once, in point of fact), as well as @tench’s beautiful and appetizing artwork. So let’s see how it all comes together. ;-)

"Y'know, someday I'd like to meet the human who defeated a member of the Honor Guard. 'Cuz I don't think he's here right now."

 Kallus snarled in annoyance at his opponent through their crossed staffs, although the noise was completely at odds with the smirk that lit his face. "Well, perhaps he's looking for a bit more of a challenge," he suggested before sliding smoothly out of the deadlock and spinning around to land a hit to the back of Zeb's legs.

 The Lasat grunted at the mild sting of the ex-Imperial's electrostaff, but the look on his face as he spun to face him was all elation – elation and invitation.

 "You like it hard? Is that what I'm hearin' from you, Agent Kallus?" he challenged, licking his lips before delivering several quick, thrusting blows with his bo-rifle. Kallus neatly avoided all but the last, the final thrust slipping between his defense and catching him in the side. Several wolf whistles sounded from the ever-growing crowd that had gathered to watch their little sparring match.

Relishing the small zap of pain from the bo-rifle, Kallus tangled his own weapon with Zeb's, keeping them pressed tightly together. With an inviting leer of his own, he leaned across the two weapons, inhaling the heady, musky scent coming off his partner's body. "So hard, Captain Orrelios. Think you're up to the task? Or shall I look elsewhere?"

 "Oh, you're not gonna find harder than right here in front of you. Promise you that," Zeb breathed against his skin.

 "We still talking about fighting here?" Kanan's teasing voice came from somewhere beyond their immediate vicinity.

 "Course, Kanan," Zeb called over Kallus' shoulder. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

 "Oh, I'll just bet you don't," Kallus grunted back, demanding the Lasat's attention with a sudden jerk of their tangled weapons, pulling his body as flush against his own as could be managed in the lock. With the sudden contact, he felt something low in his body twitch in enthusiasm.

 "Sorry. Did you want somethin', love?" Zeb teased him, his breathing heavy with exertion and hunger.

 "I will have those eyes on no one but me right now, Garazeb," he insisted, moving his body subtly against his lover's before pulling back from him yet again. Zeb's eyes tracked every motion with aching need. He looked at him both as a warrior appreciating his opponent's artistry of movement and as a male, fiercely desiring what he saw. Sometimes their sparring was just that – fighting. An honest exchange of blows and sweat. Other times, like now, it was a dance – thinly veiled foreplay that promised the exchange of more than just sweat.

 Oh, we are going to kriff so hard in just a few minutes here; I don't care who knows it.

 While Kallus himself was distracted by the bulge and ripple of hard muscle beneath Zeb's luscious purple fur, the Lasat was clearly more distracted by him. He was so focused on the appreciation of each individual muscle, he failed to see the move they came together to create and made the mistake of just rushing him, ready to take him with brute force.

 But Kallus caught him at the last possible moment, tangling their weapons once again. Only this time, it was a hold that gave him a distinct advantage in leverage. It wouldn't take any more than the proper application of strength to have his love beneath him. Leaning across that infinitesimal space between them, he hissed a single command into the Lasat's excitedly twitching ear.

 "Na lithir'a."

 Zeb shuddered with desire at the filthy words uttered in his mother tongue. Kallus never passed up a chance to practice his Lasana, even to the extent of using it in their dirty talk.

 "Val Ashla," the former guardsman near-whimpered, little resisting when Kallus forced him down, pressing him down onto his back. Then he was on top of him, leaning down over him, nothing but the press of their weapons separating them as he pressed his lips to the Lasat's.

 Kallus couldn't say how long they remained like that, lips locked in that desperate kiss, but he'd nearly managed to forget there was anyone else present by the time he pulled back for a quick gulp of air.

 "Yield?" he breathed against Zeb's lips, subtly grinding against him.

 "Only if yielding gets you outta those clothes faster," he returned, hands releasing his bo-rifle and dropping down to trace along Kallus' hips.

 "Come on! Get a room, you two!" Ezra's voice reached them from out of the still cheering crowd.

 "Well...if we must," Kallus teased, nibbling playfully at the corner of Zeb's mouth before climbing to his feet, collapsing his electrostaff into its carrying configuration. Then he offered the Lasat a hand up.

 "Oh, we must," Zeb said as he took the offered hand, gaze still just as fixed, just as thirsty.

 Kallus had to stand on tiptoe to whisper in Zeb's ear from this vantage point, but it was worth it to feel the shiver move through him when he whispered, "Let's go for a swim," in that ear, taking the sensitive flesh in his mouth and biting down insistently before pulling away. He didn't wait for Zeb's response before turning and sauntering away from the training ground. Kriffing sauntering, he thought as he moved, feeling his face flush. He wasn't normally like this, but...well...Zeb had that effect on him.

 He heard the Lasat clumsily collapse his own weapon before following after him. Once they were out of earshot of the base, Zeb was grumbling in his ear, "Y'know, someday I might just rip your clothes off and kriff you in front a' the whole Rebel Alliance."

 "Careful," Kallus started with a shiver as they walked. "I may let you. I hope there's nothing you're not prepared for your colleagues to see."

 "Nothin' to be ashamed of here," the Lasat boasted, reaching out to trace a single claw through the ex-agent's much longer hair, drawing yet another pleased shiver from him. "I'd honestly be happy if you'd let me. The only thing that'd bother anybody here is if we were gettin' in anyone's way."

 "Then I suppose the Empire was right about the rebels being a bunch of perverts and sexual deviants," Kallus said with a self-deprecating chuckle. That was something that was still taking some getting used to on his part; not having to keep his own preferences so carefully concealed, even from himself. He was only just getting to a point where he didn't flinch at the cheers and whistles he and Zeb sometimes got, still half-expecting to receive reactions of disgust at a human getting hot and heavy with a non-human.

 "Welcome to the party," Zeb said. "It's definitely better than bein' a stuffy, uptight Imperial and you know it."

 "I do," Kallus returned, taking the Lasat's hand in his as he came to a stop in the middle of the forest. When the former guardsman turned to look down at him in confusion, Kallus drew him down into a kiss. For a moment, they were only joined at the lips and the hands, but then Zeb groaned against him and lifted his much larger hands to cup Kallus' face, as if he meant to just drink him in then and there. Kallus groaned in kind as he gripped at Zeb's arms, fingers digging into his velvet-fine fur.

 He wasn't certain how long they stood like that, just kissing, tasting, touching, feeling, but the ex-Imperial couldn't manage to snap himself out of the daze of it until he heard the abrupt sound of ripping fabric.

 "Ooh, sorry," Zeb muttered awkwardly, and when Kallus looked down it was to find his shirt torn halfway down the front. But even as he shook his head, he laughed.

 "Really, Garazeb? Again?" he teased, removing the collapsed electrostaff and handing it to Zeb so he could pull the ruined shirt up over his head.

 "I forget my own strength sometimes...and...when you know what you want..." he said, voice trailing off into nothing as his eyes traced the newly revealed muscles of Kallus' chest. But when the Lasat reached for him, Kallus moved just beyond his reach.

 "Then perhaps I ought to remove the rest of the clothing...before it gets destroyed," he said, eyeing his lover pointedly as he traced a hand along his belt.

 "Yeah...probably..." Zeb agreed in obvious distraction, gaze fixed unerringly on that hand.

 "But," he interrupted himself, to the Lasat's clear frustration, turning and starting to walk away, "we should also probably get to the lake first. Otherwise I'm quite certain I'll find myself ravished against the nearest tree."

 Zeb groaned as he began to stumble after him yet again. "You're takin' your life in your hands, y'know. Teasin' me."

 "Oh, this isn't teasing, ni alitha. Not merely, anyway. It's very calculated, and I can guarantee it will maximize pleasure for both parties."

 "Kriffin' schemer. We'll see how much a' that big brain's left to scheme when I've got you screamin' my name."

 "We shall indeed."

So...wanna see some more? ;-)

[suolainensilakka]

First Meeting

(Characters belong to myself and @enderchest !)

This was a really, really, really bad idea, Duster thought to himself as he shuffled from one pede to another, trying his hardest to blend in and stamp down his nervousness as Sentinel Prime marched in front of the group of soon-to-be Elite Guard cadets, scrutinizing each and every bot with trained precision and likely gauging whether or not they were worthy of recruiting officially.

“And what do you do?” he heard the Prime’s voice say, and tried to refrain from wincing. He wasn’t really yelling, per se, not even close, but the volume was still enough to make Duster cringe. The mech being questioned chuffed with laughter, but the much smaller minibot couldn’t see him properly from behind the mass of armored pedes blocking his view to the left.

“Gimme a target and I’ll show ya,” the mech replied with an audible grin. Sentinel’s optics narrowed at the informal language but he didn’t comment further, instead pointing towards the row of blandly painted training dummies standing behind him, stepping aside.

“Alright then, knock yourself out.” He was clearly skeptical, but there was a small glimmer of curiosity in his optics as he watched the newcomer step forward with confidence.

Duster leaned over to get a better look, only barely managing to catch a glimpse of a light brown and green mech before he suddenly launched forward with almost frightening speed and collided with the closest dummy, shattering it into near-symmetrical splinters that exploded outwards and sent all nearby mechs jumping backwards with surprised yells. The mech paid them no mind, instead whirling towards his next target and obliterating it in a similar manner. One was split in half with a single kick, another was sent flying several dozen feet into the air, and all the remaining ones were taken out so fast Duster’s optics almost hurt while trying to keep up with the bot’s incredible swiftness.

The mech finished his mock battle with a victorious whoop, turning to face his audience with his arms spread outwards and frame physically radiating heat from exertion. He paused for a moment before speaking, huffing as his frame struggled to cool down, but it was clear from the look on his face that he was quite proud of himself.

“How’s that for a demonstration?” he asked, grinning. There was a beat of silence as Sentinel simply blinked in response, before brushing a few stray flecks of debris from his shoulder with a short hum.

“Quite impressive,” he said, voice slightly strained from annoyance at the mess scattered about, but nonetheless still pleased. “What’s your name, soldier?” he then barked sharply, and the bot in question let out a short laugh.

“Name’s Breakbrawl.” He paused for a moment, flexing his arm cables in an almost comically exaggerated manner before continuing, “Sorry ‘bout the mess, by the way. Things kinda tend to go boom when I’m around.” Breakbrawl then chuckled at his own little joke, shoulders shaking and teal headlights flashing briefly.

“... Alright then, Breakbrawl, you’re in,” Sentinel replied after a pause, his trademark smirk settling back on his face as he gestured for the bot to step back into the line. Breakbrawl let out another joyful whoop, practically leaping into the group and moving to stand on his previous place with newfound energy and brightly glowing optics.

Duster had been watching the performance in almost complete silence, utterly captivated by the mech’s movements and the almost physically tangible confidence rolling off his shoulders in waves, and for a moment he’d almost forgotten why he was here in the first place. His earlier nervousness came crashing back in when Sentinel snapped back into drill sergeant mode, asking for each bot’s designation and function as he gradually moved closer and closer to Duster. The brown minibot briefly considered hiding behind one of the taller mechs, but immediately - albeit reluctantly - shook the idea away. You’re here now, you’ve come this far, you’ve put in too much effort to give up now. Stay calm.

Sentinel’s pedesteps grew closer. Duster tensed. His audials were online and perfectly functional but seemingly refused to process any noise filtered through beyond unintelligible muttering, and his spark hammered against its chamber with almost enough strength to visibly shine through its protective casing - calm down, you’re not going to die, just stop panicking - and Duster fought against the urge to bolt with all his might. Then, finally, after an agonizingly long ten minutes, Sentinel stopped in front of him and turned to look. The Prime’s stern expression briefly twisted into confusion after seeing no one there, and Duster - trying hard not to let his internal screaming physically spill out of his vocalizer - cleared his throat and waved a servo nervously.

“D-down here, sir!” he croaked, wincing slightly at the spontaneous voice crack. Sentinel nearly jumped in surprise before swiveling his helm towards the voice, and a wide, amused smirk appeared on his face. Leaning down towards Duster, he folded his arms behind him and tilted his helm slightly to the side, as if talking to a lost sparkling who had wandered too far from its guardians.

“And who are you, then?” he asked, clearly unimpressed. His tone sounded almost condescending, sending another wave of fear dancing through Duster’s spark.

“I... “ the minibot began, before pausing to clear his throat again and looking back up at Sentinel. “M-my name is Duster, sir.” A raised eyebrow was his only response for a moment.

“... Alright. What’s your specialty?”

“My--” Oh. Oh. Duster’s optics nervously flicked to look at the mechs around him - all had their optics trained on him and him alone, all understandably curious - and suddenly Duster realized just how awful his idea to come here had been. He didn’t have any special abilities or strengths that he could name. Not any he knew about, at least - it was becoming glaringly obvious that Sentinel, however, was very keen on knowing.

“Well?” the blue mech prodded impatiently, and Duster swallowed nervously.

“I-- uh--”

“Drawing attention away from teammates and distracting enemies, then. Got it,” Sentinel suddenly interrupted, grin widening even further. Duster’s vents sputtered, belching out clouds of soot in surprise.

“W--” he coughed, squinting slightly. “What?”

Sentinel’s optics narrowed marginally, adding a vaguely hostile edge to his already condescending expression.

“You heard me. It’s obvious you don’t have a lick of fighting spirit in you, and judging by that flimsy, paper-thin excuse for armor you’re wearing you wouldn’t last a nanosecond in a real, up-close fight with a Decepticon.” He leaned even further in, forcing Duster to take a nervous step backwards with his audial fins pinned tight against his helm, and jabbed a digit towards the minibot’s chest where his spark was rapidly pulsing within its glass casing. “And that might as well turn you into a big, red, screaming target with the words “shoot me” painted on. Honestly, it’s a miracle cleaning models like you are even allowed to apply.” Slowly, with an infuriatingly smug air clinging to him, Sentinel rose up and turned away, seemingly ready to continue to the next bot. Faint murmurs echoed all around - some sounded concerned, some snide, and it made Duster’s plating rattle faintly in discomfort.

“So, am I… am I in…?” he squeaked softly, watching Sentinel pause for a moment before turning his helm to peek at the minibot with a glare.

“For the time being, yes. Try not to waste my time too much. This oughta be fun…” he huffed, although Duster could tell the last part was more meant to be a low murmur than a comment directed his way. The Prime then turned away with a dismissive sneer, apparently choosing to ignore Duster from that moment onwards.

It was probably a good thing he did, too. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would last pinned under the Prime’s piercing gaze. Not without completely dissolving into a coughing, anxious mess, anyways. The fact that he had actually managed to get into the training program helped in softening the blow, but his joy was still vastly overshadowed by the obviously mocking way Sentinel had delivered the news - he just had to hope he could keep his calm for the rest of the training program, too.

“Well then, folks, it seems like you’ve all been - for the better of worse - accepted officially. Make no mistake, this does not mean that I’ll be going easy on you.” Sentinel’s gaze hovered over the group, optics narrowed. “Any of you.” Duster could hear some of the new cadets shuffling around nervously, too intimidated to talk. He couldn’t blame them, really.

“Now, since this particular training area is currently… “ the Prime began, before pausing and gesturing to the destroyed remains of the training dummies behind him, “... inoperable, we’ll be using the one further north until this mess is taken care of.”

Ah. Duster had a sinking feeling he knew what Sentinel was implying.

“You, over there. Duster. You’ll clean this up while we begin.”

Yep. Knew it.

Duster repressed the urge to sigh out loud, before nodding firmly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Sentinel flashed another - insincere - smile his way, before turning around to address his troops. “Alright, off you go now,” he barked sharply, and a chorus of loud “yes sir”s met Duster’s audials before the group trotted off with thundering pedesteps, and left the brown minibot standing alone on the clearing.

“Wow. Tough luck.”

… Well, almost alone.

Duster’s helm fins twitched towards the noise and he turned to look at the source of the voice, seeing a slender, dark silver and green mech - Shutdown, he recalled from the earlier demonstrations - standing a few feet away with a sly grin, leaning his weight on one pede and arms crossed. Duster merely raised an eyebrow, silent.

“What, not even gonna reply?” Shutdown snorted, visor flashing. Duster simply rolled his optics in annoyance, moving to pick up the nearest piece of discarded rubble on the ground and twisting the shard around in his servos.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” he asked dryly, tails twitching idly. He heard Shutdown give a harsh, ringing laugh behind him and tensed, listening as the mech’s pedesteps grew closer.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t you be somewhere too, I dunno… where you’re actually useful?”

Duster’s joints froze, vents sputtering out another cloud of dirt. What…?

“I dunno why they even let you in. Like, what are ya gonna do, blind the ‘Cons with ultra-polished armor? Dump a bucket of cleaning solvent underneath their pedes to trip them? Face it, you ain’t made to be a warrior.” Shutdown’s words each stung like a sharpened blade cutting into Duster’s armor, each one more vehement than the last - don’t defend yourself, don’t provoke him, stay still, the minibot chanted mentally, struggling not to visibly tremble - but it seemed like the green ex-racer wasn’t done yet.

“Keep trying, janitor, maybe you’ll actually make it to a full week,” he snarled, leaning almost uncomfortably close to Duster’s frame.

Don’t defend yourself. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t--

“OI! Knock it off, chump!”

Duster blinked, armor clamping down onto his protoform in surprise. That voice…

Shutdown actually visibly flinched, whirling around to look at the mech standing a few feet away with his teal optics narrowed, engine rumbling a low, threatening note.

“I mean it. Quit badgering the little guy and haul your aft back to Sentinel’s group before I punt you across the field myself,” Breakbrawl snapped sharply, and Shutdown paused to shoot another nasty glare at Duster before quickly slinking away from Breakbrawl’s piercing gaze, still muttering under his breath what Duster assumed were things he dared not say out loud himself.

After the mech’s back vanished from view, Breakbrawl strolled over to where Duster was still paralyzed and crouched down, optics visibly softening.

“Hey, fella, you okay?” he asked with an almost shockingly gentle voice, and Duster simply blinked in response before a nervous smile found its way on his face and he gave a tiny laugh.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Why…” Duster paused to cough out a puff of smoke, grimacing, “... why’d you… help me?” He really couldn’t comprehend why he of all bots would deem him worthy of assistance - as much as he hated admitting it, there wasn’t anything special about him. There had never been. So why…

“Eh, I just don’t like bullies,” Breakbrawl replied, stretching his neck cables with a faint grunt. For a second Duster thought he saw a veiled look of sadness flash in the mech’s optics, but the cryptic expression was soon gone before he had time to really notice it. Breakbrawl then flicked his optics to look into Duster’s own, and despite the mask covering the lower half of his face they almost gave the impression of a warm smile. Something in Duster’s spark shifted.

“Seriously though, you okay? Do I need to kick his aft?” Breakbrawl said, winking playfully.

That got a louder, more genuine laugh out of Duster, vents billowing out soot as his shoulders shook.

“No, please don’t,” he squeaked quietly, grinning. Breakbrawl gave a chuckle of his own in response, waving an arm through the air in a relaxed manner.

“Alright, alright, I won’t.”

Duster was just about to reply before a loud shout pierced the air from somewhere behind him, dragging out a frightened gasp from his vocalizer.

“Hey! What the pit are you still doing here?”

Breakbrawl’s armor had flared out like a startled cyber-cat’s at Sentinel’s yell, but he soon smoothed down his plating and turned towards the Prime with a sour look.

“I was just making sure Duster’s okay. Is that a problem…” He paused, narrowing his optics. “... sir?”

Sentinel glared back, before shaking his helm with an irritated sigh. He paused to glance at Duster, then back at Breakbrawl, scowling.

“Well then, if you two are such great buddies now, why don’t you clean up this mess together? That oughta teach you some manners, soldier,” he finished with a disapproving mutter, before sharply turning around and marching back to where the rest of the group was in the middle of completing an obstacle course. Duster simply stared for a moment, before looking at the mech next to him with a timid smile.

“Jeez, what crawled up his tailpipe and died?” he quipped, gently elbowing Breakbrawl’s side with a dull thud. The taller mech simply gave a casual shrug in response.

“Beats me,” he replied with an audible grin and a chuff of laughter. He then paused for a moment, picking up a nearby shard of debris and weighing it in his servos with a thoughtful look. His optics flicked up to look at the back of Sentinel’s helm, where he was barking out orders to the cadets, and Breakbrawl’s optics soon gained a mischievous glint. “Say what, Dusty… Should I nick ‘im with this?” he asked, slyly eyeing the Prime before shifting his helm to glance at Duster. The brown minibot burst into a short giggling fit, rapidly shaking his helm with a mildly exasperated look on his face.

“Primus, no! Don’t!” he chided the larger bot, whose face was glowing with both glee and genuine joy of having made the skittish minibot actually laugh.

“Well, if you say so,” he replied, snorting quietly. There was a short, relaxed pause between the two before he then slowly crouched down and started collecting the surrounding debris, quietly humming a cheerful melody Duster didn’t recognize. The minibot then jolted with a faint gasp, suddenly reminded of his original task, and bent down next to Breakbrawl to reach the rubble a bit further away, face glowing blue.

Breakbrawl’s optics briefly flicked to look towards Duster with an unreadable but relaxed expression, but he soon returned to work without comment. Duster simply allowed himself to get absorbed in the soothing, repetitive motions of cleaning, replaying the earlier conversation in his memory files and spark only briefly stalling at the realization that Breakbrawl had given him a nickname.

… Maybe Elite Guard training wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Contrary to Shutdown’s harsh insult on his first day, Duster didn’t get kicked out after a week.

He managed to last an astounding two and a half weeks before Sentinel seemingly got tired of having to pretend to tolerate his presence, and loudly and gleefully announced Duster’s involuntary exit. The shocked, dumbfounded silence that followed the announcement still haunted Duster to this day as he organized his belongings with automated motions, mouth pulled into a thin line and tails twitching idly. He remembered feeling shock and disappointment, but those feelings still paled when compared to a resigned, tired acceptance. He didn’t expect to last that long, but it still stung a little. Duster paused for a moment, looking at his arm pensively - it was probably for the better, anyways. As much as he hated admitting it, Sentinel was right about his unusually thin armor being unsuitable for combat.

A sudden but gentle knock to the door in his shared quarters with Breakbrawl broke the silence, and Duster’s armor flared out as he whirled around with a startled yelp. The door slid open and in came a very apologetic-looking Breakbrawl, audial fins pinned back as his optics gave the impression of a grimace.

“Sorry, pal, did I startle ya? Didn’t mean to do that, my bad,” the larger mech said, ducking his helm to avoid knocking it against the top of the doorframe as he strode in. Duster merely blinked, still frozen, before smoothing down his armor and waving a servo through the air nonchalantly, chuckling softly.

“‘S alright. Training’s over already?” he asked, tilting his helm to the side. Breakbrawl’s expression softened a bit more to his default relaxed look, and he gave a short nod in response.

“Yup. That’s… not the only reason I’m here, though,” he replied, and Duster raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Yeah? Everything alright?”

Breakbrawl’s face, though still covered by his mask, almost looked mildly smug. The expression disappeared shortly after, but Duster was already suspicious. The minibot narrowed his optics as Breakbrawl walked further into the room and sat down onto his assigned berth, the metal creaking slightly with the impact, and took a deep breath.

“I quit.”

Duster’s pistons froze for the second time that day, before his vents soon came back alive through a sputtering, choked squeak of alarm that sent clouds of dirt billowing everywhere around the brown minibot.

“What?” he hissed, optics flying wide open. Breakbrawl waved his servos in a placating manner, expression abashed, before he went on to explain.

“Easy, Dusty, easy! Don’t twist your cables into a coil, I’ve made my decision and I ain’t changing it,” he said with a small chuff of laughter. Upon seeing Duster’s still shocked expression, he let out a small sigh. “Look, I just…” he began, idly scratching the back of his neck. “... I dunno. It was really unfair of Sentinel to kick you out, especially in front of everyone like that.” He paused, optics flashing in a smile. “It just didn’t feel right to stay when I got this far this easily and you constantly got bossed around like you were nothing. Which definitely ain’t true,” Breakbrawl added with a huff.

Duster listened, silent save for the soft whirring of the gears beneath his protoform. He didn’t know how to respond. Breakbrawl’s expression softened further, and he leaned slightly towards Duster.

“B’sides, it just… it wouldn’t feel right without you,” he murmured, voice hushed to the point Duster wouldn’t have recognized him as the same mech who oh-so-gloriously demonstrated his fighting prowess the first time Duster ever saw him if he hadn’t seen this side of him once before. Duster took a small, hesitant step forward, swallowing the lump building at the back of his throat tubing.

“Y-you…. you could have become an Elite Guard, Brawl. You could have been promoted even further - you could have become a Prime, for crying out loud!” he spoke, voice trembling. “You could have become all that - gain the respect of the entire Autobot army, even - and you quit?” Duster felt something prickle at the corners of his optics. “F-for me?”

While Duster might have imagined the expression before, now there was absolutely no mistaking of the glow of pride on Breakbrawl’s face as the bot looked at Duster with what may have been the most fondness he had ever seen on a mech’s face before this moment. The barest hint of blue glowed on Breakbrawl’s cheeks as the mech chuckled, before a sly grin found its way on his face and his vents blew out a gust of air in a scoff.

��Tell ya what, Dusty, they can keep their damn Primes and promotions. Your company is perfectly good ‘nough for me,” Breakbrawl spoke with confident triumph, servo placed on top of his spark chamber to show the sincerity in his words.

Duster’s vents gave a small, choked whine he barely managed to stifle, and the minibot broke into a small, nearly hysterical fit of giggles. Breakbrawl looked concerned for a second before Duster quieted down, shoulders still shaking slightly.

“That’s… wow,” he finally replied with another muffled snort, grinning. “You…. seriously? That’s like… the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Duster murmured softly, and Breakbrawl’s optics shone.

“Yeah, well, you deserve all the nice things in the whole world if I had any say in it.” He ignored Duster’s flustered sputtering for a moment before continuing with a grin, “And I’d say you’ve gone through enough scrap in your life as it is.” Breakbrawl paused again, expression softening once more. “Say what, how about we go exploring together? I can get us a small ship, we could just…” he spoke, slowly dragging his opened palm across the air in front of him as if to imitate a starship’s trajectory, “... fly through the cosmos, just you and I, no strict higher-ups bossing us around, no Sentinel to breathe down our necks, no limits or boundaries between us and the galaxy.”

Duster listened quietly, helm fins twitching with curiosity as he nodded slowly, optics gradually gaining back their passionate shine as he watched Breakbrawl animatedly gush about their future journey. The larger bot paused for a moment, glancing at Duster in a silent question.

“I heard there’s a small team of Autobots currently stationed on a planet called Earth and that they could use some backup. A change of scenery would be pretty nice wouldn't it?” Breakbrawl asked with an audible grin, tilting his helm to the side. “Whaddya say, lil, buddy? Wanna go on an adventure with me?”

Duster gave a short, delighted laugh in response, launching forward to wrap his arms around Breakbrawl’s chassis in a hug.

“Absolutely,” he said, burying his helm into the crook of Breakbrawl’s neck with a wide smile.

[beca-mitchell]

A 5+1 fic where five times the other Bellas caught Beca and Chloe kissing and the one time they just kissed like nobody cared. Like moving from a pre-relationship in the 5 series and then tots dating in the +1 -☆

you outlined an entire fic for me, so thank you star anon!!! i took a slight liberty in the +1, so i hope you don’t mind

you really got, really got a hold on me

summary: there are no accidents with them - it’s just that they have the worst timing in the world. chloe-centric. fic is driven by barcelona’s “i do it to myself”.

word count: 3693

1. shake me up like an earthquake

It’s an accident. 

Chloe is really just trying to help Beca unpack and really settle into The Bellas’ house, just slightly off-campus.

‘Trying’ is the keyword because Chloe rifles through all of Beca’s boxes excitedly, picking up books, leather jackets, and fun-looking novelty items that only endear her to Beca more. She and Beca tentatively agreed to share a room because Beca enjoys privacy, larger spaces, and a functioning door. Chloe has all of those things and she’s even willing to offer up some dresser space to Beca if she needs.

“Movies?” she asks, picking up a smaller box with Beca’s messy scrawl over the top. 

“Oh, yeah. Jesse’s,” Beca says nonchalantly. She continues meticulously hanging up shirts and cardigans, all in varying shades of grey, brown, black, and the occasional blue. “He wants me to watch those movies, at least, before school lets back in.”

Chloe shrugs, putting the box away. Her eyes fall on another box marked MISC and she grins, tugging it towards her. “What’s in here?”

“Just some desk stuff,” Beca replies after sparing a cursory glance.

Chloe pulls out the cutest stapler. It’s green and brown and shaped like a grasshopper. “This is so cute!”

Beca whirls, as if the adjective personally affronts her, and her eyes land on the stapler. “Oh, that was a gift from my mom,” Beca manages to say with a completely straight face, though she looks like she’s resisting the urge to run over and remove it from Chloe’s grasp.

“It’s cute,” Chloe repeats, eyes lifting so she can fix Beca with a pointed stare and grin.

“Okay,” Beca says, clapping her hands together. “Give him back.”

“Him?” Chloe pretends to click the stapler at her. “He has a name, doesn’t he?”

She’s just slightly taller than Beca, so even though they’re both barefoot, she manages to lift it just high enough out of Beca’s reach.

“Name,” Chloe says, enjoying the way Beca’s eyes light with frustration, but also amusement. There’s a teasing glint in her eyes, something that Chloe has been pleased to draw out of her with an increasing frequency. It does nothing to dampen the feelings that have gradually taken over her life since Beca herself walked into her life that fateful day.

“How about you give him back and we don’t have to worry about his name?” Beca suggests, standing toe-to-toe with Chloe now. “I knew Amy would be a better roommate,” Beca says without malice. The small smile tugging at her lips gives her away.

Chloe scoffs. “I-” Chloe stops short because she’s never really noticed the way Beca’s eyes look at such close proximity - a proximity that she doesn’t recall initiating or pushing for herself. She clears her throat, slowly lowering her arms so that she doesn’t accidentally knock the stapler onto either of their heads. “I-here,” she says quietly.

Beca’s demeanor has changed slightly as well and her hands make their way on to Chloe’s forearms, though they stutter in their ascent, as if Beca doesn’t quite have control over her own body. 

Chloe knows the feeling.

Beyond that, Chloe’s not sure who initiated it. She deems it an accident and chooses to move on. 

But if she were to describe it, she’d recall the way Beca’s lips had felt against hers, the way that the brief moment of tenderness served to fuel her fantasies for the next few years. There had been something in the way Beca’s fingers had tightened on her forearms, a desperate attempt to pull her close, yet push her away at the same time, though Chloe remembers feeling so frozen that she didn’t exactly do anything to escalate or de-escalate the situation. 

In the end, it’s Beca who pulls back, that much Chloe is sure. And it’s just as Fat Amy throws open Chloe’s door, holding take-out and a smile. The smile fades quickly, but she holds fast to the take-out.

“I got take-out to celebrate our first night,” Amy says, trailing off. “But it looks like-”

“-Nothing,” Beca says. Her face is closed. Impassive.

The silence that falls over them is oppressive and Chloe immediately regrets it (though the it is unclear because she will never regret this slow descent, this slow burn of loving Beca and not having her reciprocate; she regrets, perhaps, kissing Beca like that). 

Amy backs away slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes lingers. Chloe tries to smile to comfort everybody in the room, including herself. She has always been good at hiding disappointment, so she just turns away and lets it go.

They don’t talk about it.

Amy and Beca end up sharing a room and Chloe gets a huge room to herself.

It’s an accident, after all.

2. spinning me around ‘til I can’t think straight

It’s instinct.

It’s their third ICCA win and they’re riding the high of this win. They had come away with a near perfect score, the judges praising their vocal arrangement and fine-tuned mash-up. There had been a special mention for their choreography as well, all of which (the music and the choreo) added up to hours of work from Beca and Chloe, official co-captains of The Bellas.

Chloe joins in on the excited yelling on-stage and startles when Beca’s arms wrap around her middle and she’s being lifted and spun without a care in the world. It’s probably the adrenaline because Beca rarely displays physical exertion of any kind when she doesn’t need to. She laughs when Beca sets her down, arms coming to rest over Beca’s shoulders comfortably.

It’s instinct. This time, it’s for sure Beca who kisses her. She leans up and presses a kiss against Chloe’s mouth, moving at the last moment so that her lips make contact just slightly off-center, half lips, half cheek.

Chloe’s mouth is open and her arms slacken. Beca’s hands drop away from her waist and she looks equally surprised at her own actions.

“Um?” It’s Flo, still holding a baton in one hand and streamers in the other. They’re still on stage with all The Bellas. 

Beca’s expression morphs into panic. She doesn’t quite know what to do and - Chloe will laugh about this later - she grabs Flo and plants a kiss on the corner of her mouth as well.

Flo looks even more shocked than she did before, though the rest of the Bellas look less suspicious. Chloe catches Stacie’s eye and laughs it off, shrugging. Fat Amy has Beca in a headlock at this point, so Chloe subtly tries to step away from the group.

“I’ll…I’ll see you later,” Chloe says, clearing her throat. She directs it at all the Bellas, who are watching with equally curious expressions. “At the party. I just have to go pick up something.” It’s directed at all of them, but her eyes can’t help it if they fixate on Beca, just like they did those years ago, across the quad.

It’s been difficult over the past two years of co-existing with Beca in such close proximity. Chloe tries to make herself scarce whenever Jesse visits the house, tries to make herself a silent shoulder to cry on whenever Beca fights with Jesse.

Instead, what occupies most of her time is when Chloe spends her time trying not to think about what it means when Beca’s gaze lingers just a few seconds too long, or what it means when Beca shivers whenever their bodies graze in some way.

Instead, she thinks about the next person she can choose to take home - guys, girls, she’s not particularly picky.

Instead, she thinks about the hug, the kiss, and the panic that had risen through her body because she can’t imagine losing Beca as a friend at this point. Now, at the party, she avoids eye contact and makes sure that she can make a beeline for the alcohol without interruption. She takes a swig of the jungle juice that Fat Amy has concocted and chokes a little at the burn.

“Congrats,” Beca says excitedly, likely a little tipsy. She’s behind Chloe, but moves to lean against the counter.

Chloe sets her drink aside, taking note of Beca’s flushed expression. “Congrats to you too,” she says good-naturedly. She nudges Beca with her shoulder. “Co-captaincy worked out well.”

“It’s kinda weird,” Beca starts, ignoring Chloe. “I want to kiss you again,” Beca says bluntly. Her hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Please,” she tries again, quieter.

“No,” Chloe says even if her body screams at her in protest. “You’re with Jesse and-”

“We broke up.”

How many times has Chloe heard that before?

“You’re going to get back together,” Chloe says firmly, trying to ground herself. This conversation is dizzying in how many times she’s heard it before. “You’re meant to be,” she says under her breath, ignoring how that sentence makes her chest light up more than the alcohol had felt going down her throat.

Beca hears that, however, and looks as conflicted as Chloe has felt over the past three years. “I’m…I am?”

And Beca sounds so unsure, so lost in that moment that Chloe wants to just take Beca home and tuck her into bed so she can sleep this entire night away.

As if some kind of resolve builds back up, Beca pushes herself off the counter and walks away.

Chloe thinks about how instinctive it’s become to not chase after Beca because she’s stopped allowing herself to feel.

(It kills her every time.) 

2a. (every night, losing my memory)

Chloe dreams of kissing Beca, even when she’s not asleep.

It happens so often that it becomes a nightmare to be awake and dreaming; a nightmare to see Beca kissing Jesse because of course, they’re the couple that would last.

3. tell me once

Chloe doesn’t cry about it a lot. She’s learned to manage her feelings well over four years of knowing Beca at school. Beca, who is taken and seriously dating Jesse.

Until she’s not.

Living together has been…interesting, to say the least.

Aubrey’s harshly whispered “are you sure this is a good idea?!” still echoes in Chloe’s mind a year later. A year later and she’s living with Beca and Fat Amy and she’s sharing a bed with Beca.

A departure from when Beca literally fled from sharing a room with her at Barden.

It’s almost too much of a pain to tell the story of their time in New York, so Chloe just settles on the fact that her and Beca are verging into friends-with-benefits territory and leaves it at that.

But if she were to tell it at length, she would mention how every Friday night, Beca comes home after drinking with her coworkers and curls up in their shared queen-sized bed. She’ll scoot over and kiss Chloe’s shoulder, cuddle into her side, and if she’s feeling particularly mischievous, press a kiss against Chloe’s neck.

Chloe freezes through it all because while Beca is single, Chloe has never known this to be true. Chloe has never known what to do when an opportunity presents itself because with Beca, that has never been true.

The Friday nights become longer when Beca comes home earlier and earlier, each time more sober than before. It’s not quite the explanation for why they start their impromptu make-out sessions.

Beca’s hand will curl around her neck and tug her in for a kiss, all hard and rough nips. Like Beca’s not quite sure herself what this is.

Hands will wander, but just stopping short of giving into desire.

It’s comfort, neediness, and desperation all rolled into their bed on Friday nights. It kills Chloe because Saturday mornings means that Beca doesn’t want to talk about it, pretending like it never happened.

“We should stop,” Chloe says, pushing at Beca’s shoulder because she doesn’t want Amy to see them, or rather, she doesn’t want Amy to scare Beca off.

(She’s scared, herself.)

“Okay,” Beca says, rolling back to her side of the bed, breathing heavily.

“No, like – we should stop. I can’t do this, Bec.” She doesn’t bother giving any further explanation because she’s not even sure what this is. She doesn’t expect Beca to give her any explanation.

“Oh,” is all Beca says after a brief silence.

They lie like that in silence, worlds apart, until Amy comes home.

She eyes them oddly, lying in bed, a foot apart, both staring at the ceiling.

“Well, please, don’t stop making out for my benefit.”

It’d be funny if it didn’t make Chloe’s heart thud painfully in her chest.

And the tears.

3a. (in the game of love, i fall behind)

Chicago is a safe haven.

His arms curl around her and she thinks that maybe she could work with this.

She leans into it.

Away from Beca. Finally.

4. …and tell me twice

Beca looks aggravated.

“Uh oh,” Fat Amy says. “She does not look happy.”

Chloe only has time to look up just as Beca moves to pull her up out of her seat.

“Get out,” Beca says to all the other Bellas.

There’s a brief pause before Fat Amy snorts and resumes reading her book. “You two have basically boned while I was living with you. What’s the difference now?”

Chloe scowls at that, but doesn’t bother correcting her. It’s not worth it.

(Though the image that it plants in her mind is something she wants to return to later.)

Nobody looks particularly shocked. Chloe glances around because Beca’s still kind of awkwardly holding her hands and they’re all still in their outfits from Beca’s debut performance. Cynthia-Rose is filing her nails, feet propped up on Stacie’s lap. Aubrey is showing Stacie something on her phone. Flo listening to music and reading. Emily is watching them with a smile and wide eyes. Fat Amy is watching as well, though with a feigned disinterest that’s almost believable. Lily/Esther is scrawling something in a notebook with large sweeps of her hand.

Chloe thinks briefly that there’s really no place she’d rather be, though in her ideal world, she’d have an explanation as to why Beca’s holding her hands.

Her explanation comes about half a second after that thought passes through her mind. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Beca announces loudly, red flush rising up her cheeks.

“You are?” Chloe asks – or at least tries to, because Beca is leaning up and kissing her with the most passion and tenderness that she’s ever felt from her.

The kiss shocks her. A system shock, if anything.

She can’t recall kissing Chicago with this level of passion. Her first instinct is to smother flame because she’s tried to do so throughout this entire tumultuous…relationship with Beca. Beca, who runs with uncertainty, the weight of which threatens to crush Chloe with every passing moment. She briefly considers whether she’s drunk, whether she’s just imagining the softness of Beca’s lips against hers.

But she’s not drunk, and this isn’t a dream. She’s tentatively allowed to slide her hands up Beca’s back, heart warring with her brain that screams at her to stop because it’s going to end, it’s going to end-

And it doesn’t. Beca tilts her head, pulls their bodies closer together, and only deepens the kiss.

It’s not the taste that Chloe’s always craved, but rather the full fare. She moans into Beca’s mouth, clutching at whatever fabric she can find; clutching at carefully styled hair, uncaring if she messes it up because this is everything she’s ever wanted.

Chloe has kissed many people.

She knows in an instant that she won’t ever forget this, wonders if anything can top it, but she’ll beg to try again if they ever stop, which – they probably should because Aubrey’s clearing her throat loudly.

“We should stop,” she whispers thickly. Tries clearing her throat. Tries to think of how to make this situation better, though she’s dazed and smiling through it all.

“I love you,” Beca says, shy under the scrutiny from all their friends.

Chloe doesn’t think it gets better than that.

5. been here before, too many times

It’s different. Or not.

Chloe thinks that being in love makes it completely different. She tries to stifle her giggle when Beca’s hands slide playfully down her bare back. She squirms away, but it only causes Beca to give chase; only causes Beca to roll them so she’s back on top of Chloe. The warm weight is comforting and secure.

“Okay, we should probably get up, though,” Beca admits, between kisses.

Chloe hums in agreement (or disagreement) and only loops her arm behind Beca’s neck and holds her close for another kiss. She flicks her tongue against the back of Beca’s teeth, swiping, exploring-

“Amy’s going to be back soon,” Beca warns without any real persuasion. Her leg slides deliciously between Chloe’s. Chloe rocks her hips up deliberately in response. Beca’s eyes darken.

“Maybe we should get up,” Chloe says breathlessly. “You still need to pack for LA.”

Beca whines, but she does sit up at that. Their pieces of luggage from Europe are still messily strewn around the apartment, unopened for the most part.

Chloe shoots a grin over her shoulder when she gets out of bed, very aware of how Beca’s gaze roams hungrily. She picks up a t-shirt just as she feels Beca’s body collide with hers, hands coming to rest low on her hips. Lips glide over her shoulder blade. “I hate packing,” Beca mumbles, raspy voice and dangerously wandering hands.

“I know,” Chloe placates. She gently removes Beca’s hands from her body so she can pull on her shirt, followed by a pair of shorts. “Put on some clothes, babe.”

Chloe wanders over to the counter to pick up her thermos of tea that she had forgotten about. She’s pleased to note that it’s still warm. It soothes her scratchy throat, hoarse from, well. She smiles behind the thermos, watching Beca grumble as she pulls on a pair of sweats and zips up her hoodie. She tries not to think about how much skin she had access to the night before, but it occurs to her that…that she can. She can think about that because Beca is as much in love with as she had been for all those years when she thought she was alone in this endeavour.

“Give me some of that, Beale,” Beca mutters, tugging the thermos towards herself with one hand while the other comes to rest comfortably on Chloe’s hip. 

Beca jumps a little as the door opens and steps away from Chloe instinctively. It’s the years of repressing these feelings and hiding them not only from the Bellas, but more importantly from herself. Chloe rolls her eyes and sips her tea, watching as Beca greets Fat Amy amicably as if they didn’t just spend two hours making love in full view of the front door.

And even as Chloe’s heart greedily soaks in all the love she’s finally allowing herself to feel, she thinks of how brief this is - an interlude of sorts - while Beca jets off to Los Angeles. Davis is only hours away, of course.

She knows that distance won’t matter as much, not when she and Beca have spent years trying to make this not work. 

It’s going to work so well that Chloe won’t even know what to do with herself, she’s sure.

Watching Beca and Fat Amy jostle each other playfully, Chloe wonders how her life came to this, but she’s sure the journey is a story all its own.

It’s not that different, Chloe supposes. Nothing has really changed, just that she finally feels like she can see clearly and breathe easier for the first time in years.

6. maybe this time it’s you she wants

Chloe commits this to memory. She’s smiling across the aisle at Beca, clad in a beautiful white dress, her hair tumbling down in soft brown curls across bare, delicate shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if Beca had fought against the white dress, whether she had suggested black.

But she sees the way Beca’s eyes glisten back at her, a helpless smile on her own lips. 

The haze lifts momentarily so that Chloe can hear Beca’s vows.

Beca opens her mouth, and Chloe loses it.

“I think,” Beca begins. “That I’m going to spend every day of the rest of our lives together, wondering how I got so lucky to love you and have you love me in return. Even through it all, I think about how far we’ve come and how much further we have to go. You taught me how to be brave, you know? You taught me how to open up.” Beca’s eyes are watery. Chloe’s not sure she can last. “I’m so grateful for you every day, Chlo…and I want to spend the rest of my life making sure that I can make you as happy as you make me.”

Behind Beca, Fat Amy cheers and Aubrey blows her nose loudly from behind Chloe. It’s enough to make both Beca and Chloe laugh, but it’s joyous and free. Chloe grabs Beca’s hands and pulls her into her arms before their officiator even finishes speaking. Tilting Beca back slightly, Chloe kisses her like it’s the first day of the rest of their lives, in front of their friends and family members.

Distantly, there’s cheering (probably Emily) and whistling (probably Flo) that threatens to permeate their bubble. Beca’s hands grip her shoulders surely and firmly, though, so Chloe could care less.

She’s kissing her wife, the love of her life.

When she pulls back, Beca is flushed and smiling toothily at her. “Hello, wife,” she says shyly. 

Chloe doesn’t know what that does to her, but the thrill of emotions that rush through her makes her chest ache. The best kind of ache.

“Wife,” she repeats. “I love the way that sounds.”

Amidst the applause, Beca tugs her back in for another kiss, smile still playing across her lips. “I love you,” she murmurs, and it’s probably the best kiss Chloe’s ever had in her life. 

Posted to AO3 as well.

[a-spell-a-rebel-yell]

September!!! and 3/3 passed!!!

hiya guys, gals, and pals! wherever you are i hope you're happy, healthy, and loved :D

i'm here for an update and yes, yes, i know this is a very late/mid of the month September update but i purposely held back an update just so i can deliver all the good news in one post! hehehe

so first up, on September 9th i finished ALL of my requirements! yes, the root canal treatment and the fixed partial prosthetics! i remember when me and Vanesha (the best partner ever we all know that, right) greeted goodbye to our patient after inserting his 'new' teeth in, we literally collapsed on the floor of the negative room clinic, still in full third level PPE, just hugging each other in silence T___T so overwhelmed with feels, our hard work and clinical journey since May 2019 finally ended that day in September 2021... all those sweat, blood, tears we exerted to make it all to this very day... our very last patient, very last case, very last negative room clinic schedule, very last requirement. i can't believe we did it. WE DID IT!!!!!

today, September 13th i finally got the result of my Oral Surgery exam: i passed!!! this marks 13/14 departments exams i've passed... i'm so proud of myself, i still remember the old days of me wondering will i ever survive the clinical years aka the jungle of dental med school, but here i am now, so close to finishing everything T____T i can't upload a memento here since my prof announced it verbally, but i remember i was shaking so much when she said i passed with good scores :,) as always super grateful to be able to pass this exam in my first shot, though still sad seeing lots of my friends didn't pass in one go and have to redo it all over again :(

so now i'm left with Prosthodontics exam (the September exam period is somehow pushed back to undefined dates) but i'm readying myself for it already. also for November, if it's truly my time, i'll go for the national dentist competency exam. i'm gonna say this again and again, but it feels surreal to be in this position i am right now. maybe for you my dear readers it's not that relatable, but if you were in my shoes you'd understand haha it's really a battle to be right here. i talked with my mum and dad about me as in me since elementary school until now, looking back at all the decisions we made that lead to this very moment. i used to frown at the way my parents brought me up, but as i grow older and felt the harsh jagged lines of reality, the life lessons they taught became the very foundations of my successes today.

the hardships i went, the perseverance i had... i mean even for the last two requirements it didn't go that smooth haha for my root canal treatment i had to do THREE visits instead of two, because unexpectedly my assistant fainted midway of the treatment!? how in the world is that even happening—her N95 mask was too tight so she had a brief case of hypoxia, lack of oxygen concentration in the brain—but i mean it's such a rare case that no one saw it coming :,) but i learned a lot from that, got to be supervised by a very meticulous yet caring professor on my third visit. for the fixed partial prosthetics, me and Vanesha, at first we were SO hopeless, because our assigned professor didn't even bother to reply to our messages!? T___T but then miracle happened: after numerous Tahajood 'appointments' she somehow replied to my message, i confided in her how we really need to finish our last requirement, and she decided to help us by speeding up the treatment plan into just two visits (normally three to five)! but that's not even the only drama, we somehow mistook a step in the treatment that almost got us starting all over again but thank God we managed to salvage and averted the crisis T___T so here we are now, done with the reqs. Alhamdulillah...

this is quite funny in a way but: i applied to be an associate assistant for my profs in Oral Pathology department and i got accepted HEHEHE i know it's super late because i'm already at my last year but i'm super happy i got to interact with 3rd semester pre-clinical students, supervising their exams and grading their assignments. i also get paid :P that's the major motivation on taking the job tbh hahaha i love my life rn

i got my 3rd vax shot, a booster one, and it’s Moderna! i’m fine 7 hours after the injection but at night i got high fever huhu it went up until 39,2 C i was so worried! then i took a high concentrated paracetamol and it died down after two days :,) though it left me with no appetite, severe headache, and nausea... but i’m fine now! all of you please get vaxxed NOW and keep everyone safe ok ;)

more on the fun stuff: so Cristiano Ronaldo is back as a Manchester United player and last week we won 4-1 to Newcastle!!! what a scene... in tennis, for the US Open 2021 we have a major upset? turmoil? but the champions are the new pals, so proud of Emma Raducanu, she brought it home!!!

ALSO, it's 32 DAYS to coldplay's new album Music of the Spheres out on October 15th!!! today they just announced the collaboration with BTS! i'm so happy this is gonna be super big, everyone's gonna love it! it's gonna be a new hit song i'm sure.

ALSO LAST BUT NOT LEAST: tomorrow is September 14th aka MY DAD'S BDAY!!!!!!!! we're still unsure what to surprise him with but we'll make do on the spot lol the most important thing is i'm super grateful the families get to be together for the special day.

anyways, Rich Brian did most of the Shang-chi soundtracks and all are absolute FIRE so now Run It is my anthem. though of course Earth, Wind and Fire's September is an absolute legendary classic!!! since September brought so much happiness and i can't wait for even more to come. bring it on!!!

[sunnysideupproject]

Under Pressure

A state I’m perpetually under. Also happens to be an iconic song by one of the greatest rock bands ever, Queen*.

This is a post about my good old friend, stress.

Everyone experiences it differently. Sure, we share our instigators e.g. peer pressure, family problems, deadlines....job applications...but ultimately, our coping mechanisms vary. 

My stress has always been infectious, like a disease. Often it begins with something substantial and somehow burrows it’s way deep into my psyche: attacking my self-esteem, self-worth and confidence. It even used to manifest itself on a physiological level - panic attacks in public areas and difficulties in breathing. Over the years though, I realised that I’m coping better. And it has to do with so much more than just ‘effective time management’. I’d like to share with you a little bit about my personal growth, and how I cope with stress :-)

I find refuge in the things I love

This sounds a bit silly but hear me out. Movies, books, music, places - these are my outlets and indulging in any of these is cathartic, really.

I spend a lot of time dawdling in bookstores: I always linger in the Waterstones bookstore right outside my university during free periods. I love browsing through the shelves, running my hands through the spines of new books and reading the summary of each one, adding worthy ones to my expanding TO-READ list in my Goodreads account. Fun fact: I worked in a bookstore briefly after my A-Level exams. Those were some good times.

I listen to the same songs on loop: After a stressful day, I plug my earphones in and blast my phone to SZA; She’s singing about hoppin’ through poppy fields and dodgin’ evil witches and suddenly my day is so much better. My mini study breaks usually involve me singing in front of the mirror to my playlist and shamelessly rocking out. 

I binge-watch/binge-read: Nothing tops the feeling of being so absorbed by the book you’re reading or the movie/series you’re watching until you spiral into the small universes built around them. My brain overanalyses things to the point of absurdity. That’s why certain songs, movies and books hold so much significance; like how Hogwarts has made an indefinite impact on how I perceive people, and my first impressions of them - I sort them into houses! 

I share my interests with the people around me: I am an avid fangirl. I overreact. I hype. And for the longest time, I feared that being overly excited about things has repelled people away from me. But this is not true. As I opened myself up, I’ve connected with so many people who have the same interests as I do and my life has been so much richer. 

I’ve learnt to stop taking myself so seriously and start having a bit of fun - this has become the biggest stress-relief ever. 

Put yourself out there; show your dedication to the things you love - whether it’s K-Pop, Renaissance Art, Anime, Basketball, Harry Styles, the LOTR series, experimenting with photography. Be a fan! Don’t let anyone put you down for being extra. You deserve to enjoy things wholeheartedly.

I take care of myself 

“I’m dying a slow and painful death” - was the only thought running in my head during my first facial back in 2011, as tears streamed silently down my face. Back in KL, my mom drags me to a facial every now and then. In the UK however, this is a luxury I can’t afford. 

So I do facial masks twice a week: a clay mask (as seen above) to yank out all the gunk from my pores, followed by a nourishing one to hydrate my skin. I also do a basic skincare routine every morning and evening and I try to be diligent about it. The emphasis here is on try. (Serena and I were thinking about interviewing each other on our respective skincare routines! WIP). There’s something extremely therapeutic about tending to your skin and the aftermath of it is just so liberating. Towards the exam season, you’ll probably catch me walking around either looking like Casper the friendly ghost (sheet masks galore!) or a creature with white polka dots on its face (pimple cream).

Self-care for me also means exercising. Yoga has been such a gentle stress relief for me and it is truly something I’d love to master one day. Still bummed that I can’t do a headstand. Also sweating it out at the gym for a bit gets the oxygen flowing to my brain, which really does help kick the focus back in. 

I also like cooking to destress (shocking? I know!) - there’s something about the monotony of chopping vegetables and following a set of instructions that keep me at peace. Not too keen on the occasional burnt piece of chicken though.

I know this is easier said than done but take some time out of the day to reenergise. Studying periods can get so intense. I know what it’s like to be cooped up in your chair for too long. Stand up and stretch a little! Grab a bevy/fruit from the fridge. Rest your eyes. Most importantly, take care and don’t over-exert. The body has its limits and it most certainly needs to be recharged.

I rely A LOT on my support system

In of the lowest points of my life, I became extremely defensive and lashed out at all the people who cared about me. This defensiveness, this trait that turns me into a monster is very much embedded in my DNA today. I’m still working on it. And man did I try to rationalise back then; I had an array of unresolved childhood issues to blame and I constantly nitpicked the individual faults of each ‘aggressor’ - the friends and family who tried to help me.

I convinced myself that the angst I felt was the sole product of circumstance. And of course I was innocent. The mental gymnastics that I tried so hard to perfect only sabotaged me further. I was a deeply unhappy, confused and angry person for the longest time. 

Nothing could ever justify my toxicity. It took so much hurting and destruction to realise this. The people in my life who love me unconditionally, have seen me through those times. And they’re still here. I’ve opened myself up to letting people in; people who make me feel safe. I’ve let my support system grow. And I’m embracing the positivity from all our interactions. 

Somedays I send long, messy texts detailing everything that’s wrong with my day. My friends would draw parallels between our lives and I don’t feel so alone. Somedays it is I who read their long, messy texts and draw my parallels. Often it’s jokes, memes or banter about our favourite shows. Somedays we catch up over some good food or an average movie. Here in the UK, it’s walking in parks, ogling at all the dogs as we stroll. My dad sending me a never-ending stream of family pictures. Overstretched FaceTime sessions with my grandparents; them jostling over who’s the better cook as I roll over with laughter. Anna’s (our family dog) clueless face peering at me over the screen during our sessions.

Somedays I just want to hear my mother’s voice.

If you’re going through a shitty time in your life, please don’t bottle things up. Suppressing your feelings is a dangerous thing. I know that you seem weary of the people around you. Suspicious even. Why do they care? What do they know? You probably feel like you need all the space in the world. They’re probably breathing down your necks right now. 

Opening up is so scary - but do it slowly. Find someone you trust and who will listen. They don’t always have to be family. Often they are friends. Keep them close. You don’t need to surround yourself with an arsenal of friends. Two or three good ones are enough.

Talk. 

Your support system doesn’t always have to serve a purpose; they can’t possibly solve all your problems. They’re here to give you all the love you need. And trust me, you’ll need a lot of it. Gradually, you’ll learn to reciprocate. Promise.

And if you can’t seem to find the support you need, I’m here for you. We may not know each other well, but I have my arms wide open. I’ll listen.

*Under Pressure by Queen* - One of my favs!

[coll2mitts]

#86 Carmen Jones (1954)

A sex crazed factory worker corrupts a dumbass American soldier, and when she tries to exert bodily autonomy after their relationship ends, he strangles her to death.  Cute.

Carmen Jones is a modern day retelling of the classic Bizet opera, Carmen.  Set in America during WW2, Carmen works at a parachute factory, and although she has a reputation for getting around, she has her eyes set on Corporal Joe.  The only complication is he currently has a sweetheart, Cindy Lou, and she’s sitting right next to him while Carmen puts the moves on.

The majority of the songs in this movie are from Bizet’s original opera, but with new English lyrics.  I’m all for translating something in a different medium, but Rogers and Hammerstein made the bizarre decision to require actual opera singers to perform these songs, instead of updating the style of delivery to something you don’t need years upon years of training to execute.

I probably don’t have to tell you that the majority of the actors in this movie were dubbed when they sang, including their main actress, Dorothy Dandridge, whose parts were sang by Marilynn Horne.

Again, I ask, why cast leads of your movie that you’re going to have to dub over?  This also leads to some racists fucking bullshit, where the black actors are dubbed over with white singers trying to “sound black”.  And by “sounding black”, apparently that means speaking in improper grammar and replacing any word that starts with T with a D.  It’s fucking awkward.

The songs are written in this dialect, however, so it wasn’t even a creative choice from Marilynn Horne.  It was written into the show, which again, fucking oof.  Dorothy Dandridge doesn’t even speak that way when reciting the dialogue, but the minute she has to sing, we’re treated with a barrage of dats, deres, and dens.

Carmen Jones did provide a platform for a lot of black actors and actresses to be featured in a major motion picture, but there were so many things the filmmakers could have done to prevent white voices from dubbing black actors.  Hire someone qualified to sing the role, or change the skill needed to play the role.  With the amount of talent that exists in the world, if you can’t find someone who can both sing and act, you’re not doing your job as a casting director.

(Yes, I know, I know, the lord knows I’m going to have so much to answer to when we get to My Fair Lady, I’m preparing myself.)

Opera singers are nothing *but* charisma, because there’s a good possibility they’re singing in a language that their audience does not understand.  They need to exude the emotion from their voice, and from their movements.  If you want the cast of your movie to sing opera for whatever misguided reason, cast fucking opera singers.

I have mentioned before I have a very, very, very, bad and basic understanding of French, so listening to this opera, I can only pick out bits and pieces of what the hell anybody is singing.  Thankfully, the way Elina Garanca delivers the song, I can surmise everything I need to know. 

Olga James is proof that you can cast someone charismatic and charming who can also fucking sing opera.  After Joe blows off Carmen, he asks Cindy Lou to marry him while telling her she reminds him of his mother.  I can’t think of anything less romantic, but Cindy Lou falls for it hard.  They sing a beautiful duet and she agrees to marry him that day so they can “honeymoon” before he leaves for flight school in the morning. 

Seconds after Joe proposes to Cindy Lou, he’s called to duty to drive Carmen to a neighboring city’s prison because she started a fight with her co-worker.  While Joe is initially pissed off by this, Carmen is through the roof.

Otto Preminger, the director of this film, didn’t believe Dorothy Dandridge could act “sexy” enough to play this role, so she dressed up like Carmen, headed into his office, auditioned again and got the part.  In the original opera, Carmen is sensual, and she comes on strong, but the way Dorothy tries to eat this man alive in the first few scenes of this movie is just bizarre and alarming.

Carmen tries to convince Joe to let her go in exchange with sleeping with her.  When he doesn’t succumb to her advances, she jumps out of the jeep and onto a very slow moving train.  She’s running in heels, and he’s a corporal, so he catches her pretty easily.  After tying her up and shoving her back in the jeep, he decides to shave some time off the journey by taking a backwoods road, uttering a sentence that is literally every Jeep owner’s motto:

In a shocker to end all shockers, he gets the Jeep stuck in a ditch.  Carmen offers to lead him to her hometown, cook him a meal, and when the next train comes, they can head to Masonville together.  They end up back at Carmen’s place and talk about their futures - Joe plans to marry Cindy Lou and go to flight school, and Carmen plans on having a bunch of casual sex that she enjoys.  I know I should be watching Carmen’s excellent skills of seduction, but I’m just focused on the fact that Harry Belafonte had to probably eat a dozen peaches to film this scene.

So, they sleep together, as if that wasn’t going to happen.  Carmen escapes, and Joe is arrested for letting her get away.  She sends him mail, and he continues to pine for a lady he slept with once and subsequently put him in jail, instead of Cindy Lou, who is amazing and supportive in every way.

While Joe is serving out his sentence, Carmen mopes at her favorite watering hole, waiting around for his return.  We finally meet some of her friends, like Frankie, who sings about how excited the beat of the drum makes her, IN A SONG THAT DOESN’T HAVE A DRUM IN IT, WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE.

Like, I get pizzicato is cool and everything, but this song does not justify the fire choreography going on behind Pearl Bailey.  Seriously, props to these dancers, they are doing everything in their power to try and make this song make fucking sense.

I don’t know why this makes me irrationally angry, but it does.  They could have easily added a drum part to this.  It is the worst translation of the opera to musical format, and a waste of Pearl’s talent.  I can’t.

Later in the night, the big hot-shot boxer Husky Miller stops by to revel in his latest victory.  Everyone except Carmen seems impressed, since she’s still thinking about Joe’s dick, and has probably seen that Animaniacs cartoon enough to be as bored with this as I am.  Husky seems enthralled with her, however, and asks his manager to try and convince her to join them in Chicago.  They rope in Carmen’s friends, and even though they all sing a very convincing song about how exciting it is to board a train, Carmen sticks by her man and blows them off.

Speaking of her man, he is released from jail, and instead of indulging Carmen with the love fest she expected, informs her that he will be leaving for flight school the next day.  Carmen realizes Joe doesn’t appreciate her jail-induced celibacy, and decides he’s no longer worth her time.  She tries to leave with Joe’s commanding officer, since he seems to knows a good woman when he sees one.  Joe throws a fit, and a punch, at a Sargent, which would land him 4 years in jail if he’s caught.

After coming to the realization he’s the dumbest person alive, Joe decides to flee the city with Carmen and head to Chicago.  Carmen and him spend a week holed up and boning because Joe can’t go anywhere at risk of him being arrested.  Carmen, bored and out of money, decides to hit up Husky Miller and see what that wealthy dude is up to.  Frankie’s outfit only confirms Carmen made a terrible choice in a man.

After pawning some tacky jewelry and buying a new dress and some food, Joe gives Carmen shit about paying for things, because he can’t possibly understand how she could earn money without selling herself.  He asks her to stay in the apartment with him forever, because he lovesssss heeeerrrrrrrr, and that means she has to listen to what he says.  She, rightfully, tells him to get all the way off her fucking back and leaves to grab a sugar daddy.

She has a lot of fun with her new benefactors, clearly.  Being in Husky’s pocket has a lot of advantages, and Carmen is enjoying all of them.  That is, until Cindy Lou comes knocking, looking for her ex-man, because for some goddamn unspeakable reason she still wants him back.

Joe shows up to harass Carmen, because he’s a NICE GUY, and Cindy Lou tries to convince him Carmen does not, in fact, have a magic pussy, and he should go home with her instead.  He, like the dumbass who gave up his future as a pilot to be with this flighty woman, decides running from the army and stalking Carmen is the way to go.  Cindy Lou is heartbroken, even though she deserves so. much. fucking. better. than. this. mediocre. man.

I really wish I could insert a video of Olga James singing this song, because she knocks it out of the park.  The range in the emotions on her face, from despair, defiance, anger, love, and pleading... it’s so beautiful.  The fact this woman didn’t become a bigger star is just a crime.

After the drama is dealt with, Husky Miller takes his glamtourage to one of his fights and punches this shit out of his opponent, winning the match.

Joe, of course, follows them there, because he doesn’t have a goddamn brain in his head.  After Husky’s victory, he drags Carmen into a broom closet and begs her to run away with him.  Sure, he’s AWOL, and yeah, if he’s arrested he’d be sent to prison for four years, but he loves her, and that should be enough to incentivize her to live in his poorly built cage.

That is a face of a woman who is fed up with some bullshit.

Carmen tells Joe, again, that she’s with Husky and has no interest in leaving her cushy setup to hock more jewelry and never leave a shitty apartment.  Joe tells Carmen he’ll kill her instead, and she dares him to, either because she wants to die, or she underestimates how much men love to possess people that once smiled nicely at them.

Then he strangles her, concluding this cautionary tale of domestic violence.

Nothing good ever came from a man who thought he owned a woman.  Except this fire violin piece.

Prepare yourselves for a spooky double feature. We have a few... unusual films coming up next.

[shutupkimjongdae]

[TRANS/MAGAZINE] Popteen Magazine - EXO-CBX for July Issue 2017 To view as HQ scans, click here and zoom in!

source: x translator: dianne + fai please do not repost without permission!

To read as text only, keep reading!

If EXO-CBX were your classmates... ♡

EXO's first unit finally at Popteen!! Known not only in Korea and Japan, globally-renowned super group EXO forms its first unit!!! Female students in Japan can't stop adoring them! ♥ EXO's first unit, EXO-CBX, releases its mini album 「GIRLS」 for their Japanese debut!! If the three members were your classmates...? Let's know more about that dream-like world ♥

PROFILE

EXO's members, Chen, Baekhyun and Xiumin, comprise of the first unit. The group had its debut with their mini album Hey Mama! released last October 2016 in Korea. With a fresh appeal, they're finally ready for their Japanese debut! CHEN • Born on September 21, 1992. Mainly known for his singing prowess, especially the range he can cover for high notes. Has sung popular drama soundtracks for his solo activities and has previously participated in a musical. BAEKHYUN • Born on May 6th, 1992. The unit’s mood-maker with his bright personality and outstanding talking skills. His colorful and sweet singing voice is his specialty. Showing a charming yet sexy performance on stage, that gap is the charm point! XIUMIN • Born on March 26th, 1990. Alongside his cute and loveable outer impression are outstanding reflexes. He also has a manly side that allows the members to rely on him. Achieved his first acting role this year in 『Kim Seondal: The Man Who Sold the River』.

Individual Q&A

Q: What kind of character were you when you were in high school? C: I was the type who often listened to the teacher. I was the model student of some sort, I think. It’s common to encounter these kinds of boys in class, right? During high school, I was quite enthusiastic about skipping classes (laughs). Because I was just then starting with music-related activities, I loved listening to songs. B: Firstly, students in the entire school knew about me (laughs). I was pleasant, and very fun (to be around), also I’m a little strange, which is rare, and I think that’s why a lot of students knew about me. When I was in school, I was known as the kid who talked a lot and had a lot of interesting stories and the kid who could sing well (laughs). X: When I was in high school, I was quite an ordinary student. Talking about myself like this might be too much, but I was somewhat of a model student. I strictly kept to the rules, and I attended school without missing one day. I was quite ordinary, but after that, I was like a child who always played with his friends. Q: What kind of girls were popular when you were in high school? C: In my opinion, the most popular girl was a girl with long hair and an innocent image. Looking at Popteen, there seems to be a lot with innocent and mature appearances. Each person has her own charm, and I would like to convey these words of admiration to each of them. I think we are successful in terms of getting in touch with teenagers through this photoshoot. Please look forward to EXO-CBX’s activities, and I hope to communicate with everyone. B: Cute girls. There are girls who looked cute no matter what they were doing, right? Girls who make you smile whenever you look at them. I think these kinds of girls were popular. Japanese high school girls have this impression of being pure, don’t you think so? Their teenage years are the times when they have the most overflowing confidence, and I think even their facial expressions are very beautiful. Since we also have a teenaged appearance (laughs), we want to be an existence that is like your friends. So don’t hesitate and please come closer to us! X: When I was in high school, I didn’t pay any attention to girls. I really liked soccer, so compared to girls, I liked playing soccer with my male friends more. From the point of view of someone like me (who did nothing but soccer), the readers of Popteen don’t look like high school students, but more like dolls! And to let us EXO-CBX be part of (your teenage years) is an honor. Also, since all of us look like teenagers, I think we can blend well in the magazine (laughs). We are also working hard to get closer to our teenage audience, so please watch over EXO-CBX. Q: Honestly, were you popular in high school? C: Moderately, fairly... I was average (laughs). B: The girls didn’t view me as a man; rather, I feel like they viewed me more like a friend. I don’t know the reason for that, but it’s probably because I had a mischievous image. X: I was a member of the soccer club, and I really did nothing but soccer, so I don’t even know if there was anyone who liked me nor do I know if I was popular. In fact, if I had popularity, it’s probably among my male friends (laughs). Q: When you were in high school, what subjects did you like and what subjects were you bad at? C: My most favorite was music. I wasn't good at math. B: The subject I liked was music, and the subject I was bad at was math. X: I liked math, and I was bad at Korean. Q: What would you want to do if you could go back to being a high school student? C: If I could go back to my high school days now, I think I'd practice singing more. It’s because the me back then used to skip singing practices. Looking back, it could have been better if I diligently practiced then. The current me is actually bad in singing (laughs). B: Firstly, I want to drink lots of milk because I want to become taller (laughs). And then, weren’t there a lot of adults who said 「The time when I went to school was the best time」? The me now probably thinks the same, and I feel envious towards high schoolers. The reason is that you’re by your parents’ side, you can receive pocket money from your parents, and you can go about your daily life without worrying about anything. That’s why if I go back to being a high schooler, I think I would play a lot more (laughs). X: If I could go back to my high school days, I probably would want to study a lot harder. I really didn’t realize it back then, but now, whenever I look back, I have the feeling of 「Ah, I wish I had studied more」. I want to do my best in studies and then get number 1 in tests. I want to be number one in the whole school.

GROUP INTERVIEW

While commuting to school or after classes, I want to feel excitement with EXO-CBX's songs! Q: Tell us your thoughts on your Japanese debut! X: I was very very happy with the idea of meeting the Japanese fans outside EXO's group activities through EXO-CBX. We are grateful for this. C: With various types of music included, we had a good opportunity to meet everyone. With this chance given by our Japanese debut, we want to exert our very best to be able to meet more Japanese EXO-Ls. B: Until now, it's rare to meet the Japanese fans, so the thought of meeting them is strong. That's why it is exciting to know that even with the slightest chance, we can meet the fans. Q: What triggered the unit’s formation? B: First of all, the three of us get along well. We have the same mindset when it comes to the desire to perform. Also, since we live in one place, we act natural around each other most of the time. A conversation just went, "Let's try this". Q: What kind of group is EXO-CBX? C: A different side apart when we’re with EXO shall be seen and I think an example could be our hard work. I’m sure with the music and performance, a carefree vibe can be felt. Q: When your debut was finalized, were there any reactions from the other members? X: The prominent comment was “Ooh~ Fighting” kind-of-feel (laughs). C: We already had activities for , but after the promotions, a lot of members said “I want to do it with you too!” Q: Who, for example? CBX: D.O. (laughs)! B: Because D.O. is an actor with movies to shoot, he was busy with filming. If D.O. were to be included in EXO-CBX, he might fail to attend the debut (laughs). Q: What is the concept of your Japanese mini album ? B: It’s a mini album about some of women’s thoughts presented from a man’s perspective. If women would watch this, there are relatable moments summarized into the song. We wanted to convey to women that “money is not everything” and I think a lot of situations are presented as we sing this song. Q: What song do you recommend to teenaged girls? B: The lead song “Ka-CHING!” Because of its exciting and rhythmical sound, it fits perfectly with the current season and you can relax your shoulders while listening to it. X: On the commute to school or home, I think you’ll feel good while listening to it. Q: What to look forward to in the dance performance? B: To be honest, there are a lot of keypoints in the song’s dance. And if you dance with us, your feet will feel lighter. Q: Is there a trick on how to sing EXO-CBX’s songs well in karaoke? B: Since the readers are female, raising the key two or three notches (laughs). Also, remember the dance steps on the chorus part. Inside the karaoke box, march while singing. C: It’s easy to follow so try it out together with your friends. After that, your stress will fly out of the window. Q: When the three of you have promotions, does each member have a role? B: There are no specific roles assigned, but for example, watch out for the gear when we drive (t/n: dance step included in “Ka-CHING!” during the bridge part). Xiumin is the neutral N, Chen is the drive D, and I am reverse R. As to why is because Xiumin maintains as a neutral person. Chen has the “Let’s do that! Let’s do this!” kind of enthusiasm with regards to group activities. I’m the “Eh~ We need to do something to that extent?”, looking at things a step backwards (laughs). X: Ahaha (laughs)! That’s right! To add to that, Baekhyun reassesses things at times, but there are moments when he betrays that mindset. That’s why it’s not always the case that he looks at things a step backwards. Q: Lastly, please tell us your thoughts on your Japanese activities. B: Firstly, we are really looking forward to the upcoming free event. We're not only meeting the fans but also a general audience who can watch us, and this makes me feel excited. X: From now on, every time an album is released, we’ll aim to have a concert tour along with that. C: The Japanese debut and free showcase are big challenges to us. To get good results, I want to show my best to everyone. B: Please look forward to it and we’ll be happy to receive lots of love from everyone!

QUOTES

C: Let's dance KA-CHING! together and release some stress! B: I'll meet the Japanese fans and it makes me excited! X: My goal is for EXO and CBX to have their concert tour at the same time.

[droewyn]

Give Me a Reason (2/9)

<Part 1>

December 2012

Makkachin was panting with happiness and exertion, although she waited patiently for Victor to remove the leash and towel the remaining snow off her legs before bounding into the flat and making a beeline for the water bowl.  Victor smiled fondly as the poodle attacked the water, lapping at it with the same enthusiasm she had for everything else in her world.

He wasted no time in hanging up his coat and kicking off his boots into the drying tray by the door, knowing that he had a bare few minutes before Makka started whining for dinner.  Victor’s own meals during the competition season tended to be pre-packaged, perfectly balanced things that went from the freezer to the microwave to his stomach without concerning themselves with such trifles as flavor or texture along the way, but princesses were never meant to live like that.

“Tonight’s supper is rabbit florentine,” he informed her with the air of a maître d’ reciting the day’s specials.  Makka wagged her tail and looked fascinated.  The spinach wasn’t actually fresh, but had been run through a juicer, along with a few other vegetables that provided necessary vitamins for an older dog’s digestive health.  It looked like swamp muck, but then so did Victor’s protein shakes, so he supposed he couldn’t judge the stuff too harshly.  He spooned two large dollops into her bowl, noting that he’d need to make another batch soon.

The rabbit was just that; half a rabbit, raw, cut into chunks with the bones intact.  Then came a series of supplement powders, some from the vitamin cupboard and some from the fridge, containing live cultures of healthy bacteria that needed the cold to keep them alive.  A raw egg was next, and then the entire thing was crowned with a generous drizzle of fish oil for omega-3s and coat shine.

After a quick toss to ensure that everything was evenly coated with egg, oil, and vitamin powder, Victor set the bowl on the floor.  Makkachin pounced on it almost before he could get his hands out of the way, and the kitchen was filled with the sounds of happy whines and crunching.

Ten minutes later, the bowl was licked clean of even the tiniest scrap of oil, and Victor’s own dinner had been nuked and consumed.  He assumed it had been chicken, being far too rubbery for fish.

Cleanup was quick, and Makka knew Victor’s routine well.  She was already on the couch by the time the plastic meal tray had been disposed of, and dog dish and flatware filed away into the dishwasher.  Victor curled up next to her on the sofa, burying his fingers in the warmth of her fur, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to just be for the first time that day.

Several long moments later, he reached for his laptop.

* Joined channel #therapycouchfort

* Topic is ‘Remember to get secret santa gifts in the mail no later than FRIDAY for domestic shipping’

* Set by SockPuppet on Dec 10 7:27:41 2012      

mercyslovechild: and emmett knew which is y he left evrything to jerrica

lukewarm_mess: okay, but what about shana and aja?

mercyslovechild: dude hated one kid for not being his so much he didnt evn mention her in his will u think he cares abt fosters

KingElsa: Evening, everyone!

Small_Monster: hey king

iamworthy: *wave*

lukewarm_mess: king, tell mercy that kimber benton did not kill her own father

mercyslovechild: eric raymond is kimbers father hate to break it to u like dis luke

mercyslovechild: also hi king

KingElsa: … I’m sorry.  What are we talking about?

mercyslovechild: jem

KingElsa: ?

lukewarm_mess: and the holograms?

KingElsa: ???

lukewarm_mess: gasp.gif

lukewarm_mess: go

lukewarm_mess: netflix it

lukewarm_mess: right now we’ll wait

mercyslovechild: not the movie tho the cartoon

lukewarm_mess: oh, right.  good call that movie was garbage

Small_Monster: It was good when it was called Josie and the Pussycats

He tabbed over to Google and did a quick search.  The resulting wiki page was… very pink.  Secret identity pop stars who traveled the world and had unlikely adventures?  It looked ridiculous, but in a fun way.

KingElsa: Maybe later.  Thanks for the tip, though!

KingElsa: More importantly, what are you doing here, Mess?  You’re never on at this time of day during the week.

lukewarm_mess: grr

lukewarm_mess: i sprained my ankle

lukewarm_mess: so i’m not allowed to work for at least a week, longer if the PT doesn’t clear me right away

iamworthy: Sounds like your work is physically intensive?

lukewarm_mess: yeah

lukewarm_mess: we’re in the middle of our busy season too

KingElsa: Things should lighten up after the holidays, though, right?

lukewarm_mess: not in my industry

KingElsa: What do you do?

Small_Monster: he works for the CIA

KingElsa: What, really?!  O.O

lukewarm_mess: NO

lukewarm_mess: sorry i

lukewarm_mess: just don’t feel comfortable giving out personal details like that

Small_Monster: you know it’s not like anyone can track you down if you tell us you work in sales or IT or smthing

KingElsa: It’s okay, Mess.  I shouldn’t have asked.

SockPuppet: Yellow card, Monster.  5 yard penalty for unnecessary roughness.  Do it again and get a 1 day temp ban.

lukewarm_mess: nono it’s fine to ask anything, just respect when i can’t answer

Small_Monster: sry my bad

lukewarm_mess: np monster

KingElsa: Of course!

KingElsa: At least it sounds like your boss cares about your welfare, though?

lukewarm_mess: oh yeah

lukewarm_mess: i have the best boss

lukewarm_mess: i just usually dance out stress

lukewarm_mess: and i obvs can’t do that either rn

KingElsa: G A S P

lukewarm_mess: so i’m stuck sitting around feeling sorry for myself

KingElsa: You dance?

KingElsa: Formally? What discipline?

Was it wrong to try to imagine someone when you had no physical reference for them at all?  Victor knew that the other user identified as male and attended college somewhere in the States, but that was pretty much it.  And now he knew that Mess danced.  Maybe he was a redhead, small and lithe, with pale, freckle-dusted shoulders and cornflower eyes.  Or a blond, perhaps; tanned and powerful but with a sweet, sweet smile.  African-American, with long lashes framing shy eyes in a brown face?

I am definitely going to internet chatroom hell, Victor thought, and wondered what color that card was.

mercyslovechild: ths is relevnt to my intrests as well

lukewarm_mess: (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

iamworthy: Please say morris

lukewarm_mess: haha, only the one time

lukewarm_mess: yes we were drunk, no there is no surviving evidence

iamworthy: Well obvs, if you’re not completely pissed you’re doing morris dancing wrong

lukewarm_mess: i stole p’s phone and made sure of it

SockPuppet: Are you okay with this, mess?  Say the word and I’ll hand out more warnings.

lukewarm_mess: its fine i’m fine

lukewarm_mess: ballet since i was three

mercyslovechild: BALLERINA MESS <3 <3 <3

lukewarm_mess: ballroom, jazz, latin, freestyle, swing

iamworthy: It’s danseur for boys

KingElsa: WOW!  AMAZING! *swoon*

iamworthy: *is super impressed*

lukewarm_mess: some other stuff too

lukewarm_mess: dance is one of my majors so

Small_Monster: do u dance professionally

Small_Monster: ?

SockPuppet: Careful.

lukewarm_mess: no, and i really don’t intend to

lukewarm_mess: my dancing is just for me

Small_Monster: so whats your other major then

lukewarm_mess: moving makes me happy

* Small_Monster Quit (Quit: Kicked by SockPuppet)

lukewarm_mess: anyway that’s why i’m so off balance now

lukewarm_mess: i can’t do what i normally do to clear my head

SockPuppet: *points two fingers at her eyes and one finger at y’all*

SockPuppet: *except mess because mess never does anything wrong*

mercyslovechild: mods pet

mercyslovechild: jk ilu

KingElsa: Is there anything I can do to help, Mess?

KingElsa: I mean, you’re home alone, right?  Your roommate is at work?

lukewarm_mess: not really but thx

lukewarm_mess: yeah but it’s not like

lukewarm_mess: i’m not a danger or anything ┐(‘ ～ ` )┌

lukewarm_mess: just crabby and bored

KingElsa: I just wish you didn’t have to be alone ; ;

lukewarm_mess: …

lukewarm_mess: …

lukewarm_mess: watch jem with me?

lukewarm_mess: i mean, if you’re not busy or anything

KingElsa: !!  Mess is a genius!

KingElsa: Wait, how would that work?

iamworthy: Probably go set up your own temporary channel, lock it with a password if you don’t want trolls bots or randos, and coordinate netflix so you start at the same time

mercyslovechild: can i join

mercyslovechild: or is it like a date thing

KingElsa: Of course!  The more the merrier o~

lukewarm_mess: if you behave

lukewarm_mess: no crackpot conspiracy theories interrupting my musical adventuromance

mercyslovechild: how about I keep it to the credits

lukewarm_mess: …fine

KingElsa: Great!  I’ll go set things up.  And make some popcorn!  Meet back in 15?

mercyslovechild: k

lukewarm_mess: sounds good

lukewarm_mess: king?

KingElsa: Mess?

lukewarm_mess: thanks

KingElsa: Any time, Mess.  <3

<Part 3>

[mrsavis-blog]

Whompdie whomp whom

I’m just going to jump straight into it...  I’m not 100% I’m going to get that job, and To be Honest... I’m cool w/ that. I mean, I would love to get paid very well for a Server. But I was not AT ALL looking forward to that commute, and nor am I sprinting towards work-life. I’m your typical creative soul... I need a lot of freedom and space & ability to move at my own pace. *Medium sigh*

But just to not jinx it either, they did tell me I have about 24hrs. I doubt they meant it literally but more figurately ... like in general, if I don’t hear from them at all today then it’s a “No thanks”... Hmmm did companies low key invent ghosting??? Because it’s totally the worse to apply to places, get an interview, and then be left hanging... It’s like thanks for financial blue balls... 

I don’t know about other people, but I take ALL relationships serious, especially ones that involve my finances. I do my homework before I even apply, full money background search on the J.O.B. I know how much I will be paid after taxes before I can even introduce myself to the manager. I already know exactly where my 1st FIVE checks are going, I know what day to look forward to on paying off my debt. Ect. ect. ect.  ... I’m not counting the chics before they hatch I’m just drawing up blueprints for their coop, and trying to set up deals for where I’m going to sell their eggs..

I don’t go overboard or anything... 

BUT D@MN I hate sitting around for anything & anyone. I’ve learned how to cope with an extremely short patience at a young age... Distractions + productiveness is the key.. Got to constantly be prepared with ways to fill up those life-sucking, nerve-wracking, black hole voids of “waiting on something/someone”. This is one of those times

I started last night... I just got up out of bed and started cleaning the kitchen... Cleaning is the best, absolutely one of my favorite ways to relieve stress & anxiety. This is why:

1. You get instant gratification; EVERYONE loves being in a clean environment. It’s like the aura of the room brightens and hums a silent soothing uplifting song that your spirit vibes to. 

2. I’m good at it: I get the details of a room done, and efficiently so. If you’re going to do something do it all out. I literally clean from the ceiling to the floor, and not only that but I sanitize & cleanse. Cleaning is just removing debris and making an area look less cluttered & disorganized or neglected. Sanitizing is when you actually kill the bacteria & viruses that threaten us (and I am a big Germaphobe so this really matters!). Cleansing is when you clear out bad vibes, I prefer to let in a lot of natural light, smudge, pray, and air out my place. 

3. It’s easy to do and can do it anywhere at any time. 

4. It makes life smoother. I LOVE just being able to go about things with minimum resistance.  For example, I don’t like having to look for things and or clean something when I need it at that moment. 

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse, you get the idea...

I started cleaning my kitchen and taking care of my loved ones... Going out my way to give them a great hot meal, and relaxed/ clean space to come home to after working a double. Their bed was ready, the food was hot & how they liked it, their favorite show was waiting for them to press play, their drink was poured, and no one was bothering them. 

Then after they were set, I began getting things ready for the morning... Putting out clothes to take my lil one to daycare; having their favorite morning snacks, their backpack, and outfit set up. 

The morning came & went, and I still continued to try to keep my mind off of staring at my cellie with busy work. I Cleaned someone else’s bathroom and I HATE DOING THAT. I’m talking about I scrub the DOG SH!T out of the toilet so well it looks got d@mn fucking new... You can see your reflection, and I even polished the faucet and bathroom appliances... 

EVERYTHING that can be washed is, sh!t I even rewashed sh!t that’s not even 3 days out of the last load.. I’m still thinking of other sh!t to clean...

It’s almost 3pm and that is just about 24 hrs ago from when I last spoke to the restaurant and I’m getting very anxious. 

I know there are other places I can apply & get a job. But I lowkey want this one because of YES! the money. But also because I feel like it would push me to WAKE THE F#CK UP! Get my life back on track to what I felt & remember how it was before my Dragon came.

There are a ton of things I know I out to be doing, and this would help force me to work on my self-discipline. Because there would be rewards (mostly in the form of a check) and consequences towards steering off the path towards my goals. 

OH THE F#CK WELL!! It’ll be what it’ll be lol... I just feel like if I think too much about not getting it then I’m somehow influencing the universe into not giving it to me, but also the opposite. That if I know I have it, that I’m lowkey manifesting it into existence, and I’m a little hesitant, to be honest. I’m not fully ready to get into all of that extra mess that comes with it. Even though I know it’s past time and will be no perfect job anytime soon. I’m kinda convinced that if I just chill and don’t feed either thought, then what is meant to be will be, and I will know for sure then what needs to be done. Lol regardless I’m getting a job, either way, just not fully convinced this should be the one.

WHAT I AM F#CKING TIRED OF THOUGH... IS ALL THESE D@MN TELEMARKETERS CALLING MY GOT D@MN CELLPHONE!! 

I’m over here about to flip out EVERY time my cellie rings, and I answer to some dumb sh!t. I have no idea what the phone number will be if they call me, so I basically have to answer all the calls. I keep blocking them, and they just call back with different numbers. 

Moving onwards to other topics, I am in a perplexing situation like constantly actually lol. But seriously I don’t feel like I have total anonymity and can’t be totally free with things my spirit truly moves me to say... So I’m thinking of starting a new Blog that’s a Satire of my own; I will mix in a lot of fiction with bits of truth... It’ll be obscene and vulgar without any censorship so you have been warned. I don’t know if it’ll be any good, but it will give me more practice on my writing skills. Unlike this. I don’t know exactly when I’ll actually work on it, but I usually get what I want to do done...soo eh.

On top enjoying allowing myself to blossom on here, I do very much have to find someone to sell my time to, doing tasks in exchange for tips. I need to go through my emails and the handfull of job sites I’ve joined over the past couple of weeks. It’s all rather a little bit depressing in its own, so I find myself avoiding the f#ck out of it all. Especially since our financial situation has gotten better enough for us to breath again instead of drown. But the sensation of suffocating is still wavering over me and clinging to my spirits, that I can’t help but constantly think about what I NEED to be doing.

I’m not procrastinating entirely I am checking my emails, and staring the ones to go back and open. I did check out another Fine dinging restaurant up the street from us and plan on filling out their application later this evening. I even did 3 interviews and take a competency test... Again I say I’m not sprinting... I’m kinda just moving barely into sparting gear (It’s not walking and it’s not a full out jog, it’s when you extend the length of your gait enough to be moving fast but not exerting yourself). 

I am working on self-discipline but forcing myself to not focus entirely on just one thing, and burning myself out. As well as see things through and finish things I’m having a hard time getting back into gear with.

It’s been a journey to say the least...

... One way I am planning on going about helping myself get organized to get the most out my time and get all I want to do crammed into a day... Is to go about these sessions/ entries at a more organized way. It’s fun just free-falling through words and jargon in my head, but the process is slow and time-stealing... I will start taking notes of the things I think about posting about throughout my day. They will either make the cut and be somehow smoothly discussed on here. Or they will be a bit too extreme or too vulnerable for me to freely discuss and placed in my Satire peace... There will be more of an intro kinda deal & an outro, and of course, there will still be MORALS... I will be basically just bullet pointing them, and then going in at will... So there’s still some form of free-falling, but no time lost one what to type up next, or getting lost in thoughts, or looking for the right GIF.

With that being said I do have to close out... So the MORAL OF THE SESS IS: “Don’t let rejection or the fear of rejection stop your life. Know your way of coping and find healthy outlets for your anxieties & stress. Don’t ever stop improving or believing in yourself, with that being said give yourself a break here & there.” .

Peace.

[azhchay]

Questions!!

Tagged by @wuh2k and @omgnowaaaydanna

A. Age? - 37

B. Birthplace? - Austin, Texas

C. Current time? - 7:31pm

D. Drink last consumed? - Water, while eating dinner.

E. Easiest person to talk to? - My husband, though when I’m in a chatty mood, I can make friends with random people that just happen to be around me. It annoyed an ex at times. There’s reasons why he’s now an ex.

F. Favorite song? - Depends on my mood. I can’t actually think of an answer to this right now.

G. Grossest memory? - Not sure. I don’t think I have many memories that would be over the top gross. Probably one of my grad school ones when I was still working with mice.

H. Horror? - Psychological? Oh fuck yes. I love the movies that don’t make you jump, but rather leave you profoundly disturbed and unable to sleep that night because you just can’t stop thinking about them. Not a fan of “OMG THE SCARY THING MADE ALL THE BLOOD APPEAR! LOUD NOISE!!” jump horror.

I. In love? - Very. So very.

J. Jealous? - Not as much as I was in my younger days. Whether I’ve grown up or I’m just that secure in my relationship is really the question.

K. Killed anyone? - Literally, no. Wished I could and get away with it, a few people. (Oh god this guy at work…….)

L. Love at first sight? - Infatuation and desire? Yes. “Love is made more powerful by the ongoing drama of shared experience and the synergy of a kind of symbiotic empathy or… something” (We both quoted different parts of this song in our vows. That we wrote separately. With no knowledge of the other.)

M. Middle name? - Pauline

N. Night or day? - Night

O. One wish - That I had the metabolism of my husband. He needs approx 3000 calories per day to not lose weight. And that’s if he does no physical exertion at all. Like, even going to work and sitting all day means he needs about 4000/day.

P. Person you called last - *checks phone* My friend Sara in Texas

Q. Question you are always asked - So when are y'all having kids? (Or variations thereof). A close second, then, is “Omg why not!?”

R. Reason to smile - My cats. Long story short, I was suicidally depressed in grad school. In an effort to talk myself out of going through with it, I imagined how my friends, family, and co-workers would react if I did. All of them I imagined would be varying levels of relieved, if sad. Then I thought of my cats, and suddenly couldn’t stop crying. Because they’d notice. They needed me. They loved me in whatever way they did they would be truly sad and there would be no way to make them understand why mom was gone and never coming back. And so I picked myself up and called to make an appointment with a counselor. Nothing else could make a dent in that depression. But my cats kept me from suicide.

We are not going to talk about how devastated I’m going to be when each of them die.

S. Song you last sang - Tim Minchin’s “Not Perfect”.

T. Time you woke up - 4:10am

U. Underwear - Whatever is clean. From lacy stuff to granny panties to the ones so stretched out you’re pretty much not wearing underwear anyways because you stupidly wore a dress too and now they’re around your ankles in the autoclave room and you’re trying to figure out a way to pull them back up without taking your gloves off but then give up and hope no one walks in while you’re bare-assed.

Wait. That doesn’t happen to everyone else?

V. Vacation destination - Dream? I want to set foot on every continent eventually. Realistic? A weekend getaway in a mountain cabin about an hour or two from home.

W. Worst habit? - Procrastinating EVERYTHING.

X. X-rays? - Various dental ones. Wrist once, hand a few times when I broke my 4th metacarpal. Chest a few times to make sure I didn’t have pneumonia (I didn’t). Back and spine lately to rule out a skeletal reason for my back pain. Fun fact I learned. My torn disc between my L3 and L4 vertebrae is bad enough to be seen by X-ray. No need for a fancy MRI.

Y. Your favorite food? - Ice cream. Or cherries. Cherry ice cream?

Z. Zodiac sign: Gemini

@wuh2k and @omgnowaaaydanna got mostly everyone! But I’ll tag:

 @lesquartz @fractiousrvt @thatsadwolf @hyper-red @phoenixrl @krakenkilier and anyone else that just wants to!

[undertalesacrifices]

Sacrifices: Twenty-Two

A/N: One more "fluff" chapter before I make you all hate me again. :D --

   Toriel had apologized for not telling me that she invited a lot of people. Of course, I forgave her. I know she's proud of me and wanted to show off her precious child. Toriel suggested I go and visit with some of the monsters. I think she just wants me to socialize with people other than my close friends and family. However, I complied and started going around the room.

   It took a little while, but soon I was rather comfortable with talking to everyone. My shell was broken and it would be some time before it was glued back together. Many congratulated me, others gushed over how much I had grown from when I first set everyone free. I simply smiled and welcomed the compliments. A warm, fuzzy feeling built up inside me as I continued to go around the room talking to everyone. Perhaps having such a large party wasn't a bad idea after all, I thought. This went on for around an hour or so before I retreated to the punch bowl. I hadn't drunken anything all evening and my throat was parched, despite primarily communicating through sign language.

   Suddenly, the lights dimmed and slow tempered music began to play. People began to gather on the dance floor, mostly couples from what I saw. I noticed Toriel and Asgore had entered the dance floor as well. No surprise there. They wouldn't miss an opportunity to slow dance with each other, I mused, smiling. To my surprise, a certain fire elemental monster and spider took to the floor as well. I'd suspected the two had a thing for each other, this confirmed it. To no surprise, Asriel had managed to convince Chara to dance with him. They were so cute together! It was adorable the way Chara stumbled about, attempting not to step on Asriel's feet. Taking a sip of my punch, I continued to survey the scene. Mettaton and Alphys soon took the spotlight as Mettaton pulled off some flashy moves. Poor, Alphy, I giggled at her flushed cheeks.

   Looking around, I sought out Papyrus and Undyne. Soon I spotted them near the corner of the dance floor, away from everyone else. The two were rocking back and forth slowly, both of them had a blush equivalent to a bad sunburn. Everyone had someone, it seemed. Everyone except for me. I sighed and mindlessly sipped my punch. I wish Sans would ask me to dance... Soon, I headed over to the table that was designated for me, my close friends, and my family. I idly played with my fingers as I watched all the couples dance.

   "Maybe I'll just get up and start dancing anyways," I mumbled.

   "hey there, pretty lady,"

   I felt my cheeks flush as I turned my head to my left. There Sans stood, hand held out. I noticed his cheek bones had taken on a light cyan colouring.

   "ya seem awful bonely standing here by yerself. care ta dance?"

   I giggled at his pun an accepted his hand. Sans led me out onto the dance floor. He put his free hand on my waist, which caused me to blush even more than I already was. As I put my hands on his shoulder I asked, "S-So, who put you up to this?"

   "i see ta think highly of me," He teased. I made a face.

   "Sans, why would your pile of lazy bones willingly do something that requires physical exertion?"

   Sans chuckled. "alright, ya caught me. grilbz noticed ya were by yerself and told me ta go ask ya ta dance,"

   I knew it. Like he would ask me on his own.

   "Grilby has been dancing for a while now," I said, subtly calling him out on his last statement. "And with Muffet I might add."

   He grinned.

   "him and muffet? that's a new development."

   "I had had a feeling the two liked each other. Despite Muffet's apparent hostility towards Grilby,"

   We were both grew quiet as we swayed back and forth. I looked down at our feet. I don't think I could handle staring directly at him.

   "So, Papyrus and Undyne," I said, breaking the silence.

   "i trust her," Sans replied coolly.

   "They make a cute couple."

   "i won't disagree with that," He chuckled. "paps always had a thing fer her. finally worked up tha guts ta do something about now that she’s had a break from her last relationship, it would seem."

   "Is that why he joined the Royal Guard?"

   "yes n’ no. ya know papyrus, he genuinely wants ta help people. it's in his nature. getting ta be around undyne all the time was jus’ a bonus."

   The slow and gentle music soon died away to be replaced with something more upbeat. I was about to let go of Sans' hand when he spoke.

   "d'ya know how ta swing?"

   "What?"

   Sans adjusted his hand hold on mine. Instead of simply having my hand on top of his, it was like a cookie in a glass of milk. He then lowered our entwined hands to waist height. I looked up at him confused.

   "i'll take that as a no. it's fairly easy, i can show ya how."

   Sans gave me a speed lesson on how to do swing. You basically just step forward and back in a rocking motion, then swing out every now and then. We practiced for a little bit longer until the next song started. It pretty much had the same tempo, so I assumed it was another swing song.

   "five, six, seven, eight, n’ go!"

   We stepped in beat going back and forth steadily. I kept my focus on our feet as to make sure I wouldn't step and his feet. This went on for a couple of minutes before he told me to look up.

   "relax, dancin’ is supposed ta be fun,"

   I giggled nervously as I looked up into his eyes.

   "I l-literally just learned this dance. I don't know how relaxed you expect me to be."

   That only garnered me a laugh as we continued to dance to the beat.

   "let's try ta swing out, eh?"

   "You sure?"

   "what could go wrong?"

   A lot of things, I thought dryly.

   "alright, and one, two, three, and swing!"

   I spun and swung out, and keeping to the beat, swung back in. My face flushed with the exhilaration.

   "yer a natural," Sans grinned. I returned the smile, almost breathless.

   We continued to dance until I declared my legs were going to turn into jelly and I would then have to eat them because of how hungry I was.

   "i guess we better fix that,"

   We went back to the table and got our plates. As we walked over to the food table, I glanced at Sans. I hadn't really noticed what he had been wearing. I was too preoccupied trying to not make a fool out of myself. He was wearing a tux, though as of now he wasn't wearing his jacket. The tie around his neck was neatly done. Must be Papyrus' doing. I couldn't imagine Sans being able to properly do it. He looked rather dashing. I sucked in a breath, working up courage.

   "You look nice, S-Sans." Sans jolted a little and looked at me. "Well, you c-called me pretty earlier. Thought I'd return the complement," I mumbled, eyes cast downward.

   "awe, thanks kiddo," I glanced back up at him. His cheek bones were a bright cyan blue. "let's get our food," he said, continuing towards the food line.

   "Y-Yeah, good idea." I followed on after him, scolding myself for doing what I had done, but congratulating myself at the same time.