#like Obviously I can sing it lower but when I start in the key that feels more natural for most of the song the chorus trips me up

[onelonelystory]

DEEPLY embarrassing when a generally like. not vocally unimpressive but generally “fun” song throws you for a loop. what do you mean I can’t sing fuck somebody by the wrecks without switching registers.

[madhattervanessa]

Crave

Summary: Simon returns from deployment- but, there is a catch.

Warnings: sneaky nosy reader, flirting with a strong ?, pda, a little bit of voyeurism but it's all still very PG I feel

Words: 1489

A/N: Y'all already know...

Requests are open as always.

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

prev. Part - next Part

-

It's been just over 3 months when you hear his familiar footsteps echoing through the apartment complex's hallway.

This time, however, he doesn't seem to be alone.

At least, you had not previously heard a Scottish accent coming out of his mouth. And certainly not at that speed.

"-an' I'm telling you, she fancies me, this is all just a misunderstandin'."

"You repeating tha' don't make it true."

You really shouldn't be standing this close to the door, spying on them. But... Simon isn't the most talkative person in contrast to his very chatty friend. And you're a nosy person.

His friend babbles on about some girl until you hear the keys jingle in the lock of Simon's flat.

"Don't get too comfortable. I'll be just a minute."

You smirk to yourself and listen carefully for Simon's footsteps to move back down the stairway before opening the apartment door.

You sneak out and gently knock at your neighbor's door.

It's torn open almost immediately.

You correct your gaze up a little and meet pale blue eyes.

He's cute. Young, though, for, what you had gleaned from conversations with Simon, they do.

"You're not my neighbor."

He grins and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe.

"Aye. I'm bloody well not, lass."

You hum.

"Feels like I've seen you before, though", he adds.

There's a roguish handsomeness about him, a cockiness- really, a telltale thing you have noticed about the military personnel roaming around town.

"Seems like you haven't left an impression."

He scoffs, obviously amused.

"I usually have some coffee with Simon when he returns from service." You nod towards the kitchen behind him.

"I can see why he would. Come on in, then. I bet the- I bet Simon could use a cup of coffee."

He steps out of your way and closes the door as you beeline to the kitchen.

"Did you guys just get back?"

"Yeah. It's been a long few months."

"I believe that", you murmur and open the cupboard, instinctively picking up your usual mugs.

"What's your name?"

"You can call me Johnny."

You shoot him a look before setting down the cups and starting to pull shots from the espresso machine in the kitchen. When you set down the first cup for Simon, you look up towards him.

"How do you take your coffee, Johnny?"

You're interrupted by the door opening.

Johnny throws a wide grin towards Simon as he enters. His brown eyes briefly flick back and forth between the two of you before he drops two heavy duffel bags on the ground.

He shuts the door with his boot and the heavy footsteps that follow serve as a visceral reminder of the sheer mass of the man.

"Black coffee will do for him", Simon grumbles.

You try not to grin at the glare that settles on Johnny.

"Get out of her face Johnny. Take a shower. Y'smell like shit."

"Aye, L.T.." Johnny briefly turns back towards you and winks. "I'll be right back, lass."

You hum, smiling now, and lower your gaze toward the coffee machine again.

When you glance back up, Simon's eyes are still on you. There's some eye black smeared around his eye sockets. It makes his eyes look bottomless and sharp, his blonde lashes a harsh contrast.

After a moment, he leaves to follow his friend.

Low murmurs sound from the bathroom next to the bedroom, but they are just quiet enough for you to be unable to discern anything.

Eventually, the shower starts up and there's some brief laughter before music starts to play, low and tinny.

The door slams shut and you start steaming some milk.

"Did he bother you?"

You jump and curse under your breath, thankful for the mostly empty pitcher in your hands.

"No. No, he didn't."

Simon is radiating heat from behind you.

"Good."

A single, high note hits your ears before the singing continues, quieter but no less off-key.

"He seems nice, though. Funny. Talented singer."

"He's a bloody idiot."

"Does he get into a lot of trouble?"

"'s exactly why he's here."

The tune in the background changes to Material Girl, as you start to sip on your coffee and step aside for Simon to grab his own.

You stand in comfortable silence for a moment, just looking at each other.

He shakes his head slightly at the first Materi-a-a-aal echoing from the bathroom.

"Any chance you have space for a roommate?"

You snort and shoot him a conspiratory look.

He smirks before taking a big gulp of coffee.

You keep looking at him, drinking in the details, now that he is back: The eyeblack has smeared down over his cheeks and you can see where it has faded around the corners of his eyes as if he'd been laughing a lot. You set your cup down.

"I don't know, I don't want to get in between some quality time with your friend and you. Should really let you guys settle in."

"Can't settle in, yet."

You perk up a little, immediately alarmed. Simon downs the rest of his coffee before he turns towards you.

"Still missing a warm welcome from my girl."

My girl?, echoes faintly in your head.

Your hesitation seems to amuse him. There it is again, the crinkle around his eyes.

He is careful as he approaches, slowly reaching out.

"C'mon, love. Where's my welcome back kiss?"

You roll your eyes despite laughing, weakly pushing your hands against his chest, not even slightly managing to nudge the big man towering over you away.

"Oh, ew, Si-"

He catches both of your hands in his and intertwines your fingers before leaning his head down. You don't resist and simply tilt your head up towards his.

He's rough with you; his teeth clack against yours and when your lips connect right, he pins you against the counter with his hips.

You moan into his mouth and let go of his hands to instead push them into his hair and let your nails scratch over his head. He is devouring your mouth, his hands wandering until he can hold on to your waist. One of them wanders down to paw at your hip, kneading at the soft flesh there.

He delves his tongue into your mouth and you gasp. You return a nip to his lip before both of your tongues start to tangle.

It's messy and needy. You're melting into his hard grip. As you hesitantly roll your hips towards his, you can feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

He backs off and when you open your eyes, he briefly nudges the tip of your nose with his. You feel girlish joy at the sweet gesture and wet your lips as you lock eyes with him.

"That's one hell of a welcome."

"Missed you."

"Yeah?", you tease, grinning.

He grunts and pulls you into another kiss, muffling your laugh. His hand that had previously held on to your hip wanders down to your ass to squeeze, eliciting another moan from you. You let your own hands cradle his face, feeling his jaw work as you kiss.

"Damn."

You jump and stiffen against Simon in surprise.

"Don't stop on my account", Johnny adds. Simon backs off with a quiet curse and you open your eyes to peek at Johnny, standing in the doorway.

"Bugger off, Johnny", Simon grumbles before pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Your eyes lock with his friend's who is still notably shirtless, hair damp, as he leans against the doorframe.

"I was just comin' back for my coffee, Lt."

There's something underneath the amused glint in his eyes that makes a hot flash run over your spine.

"I'm uh-", you're distracted by Simon dragging his tongue over your neck before he brushes the stubble on his jaw over the skin behind your ear, "I'm going to leave you guys to it."

Simon straightens up and your eyes snap to his.

"Alright, love."

You stagger towards the door, both of the men close behind.

"If you guys need anything, just knock, alright?"

"We'll just be sleeping the flight off, hen", Johnny answers, supported by a gruff sound from Simon that sounds like an agreement.

You nod and lean up to give Simon another innocent peck.

Before you have the chance to think about it, Johnny envelops you in a brief hug. A cloud of cologne envelops you with it and he squeezes you in his arms.

"Don't be a stranger. Come by for pizza sometime, soon, yeah?" Johnny puts you at arm's length before grinning. "I'll tell you a bunch of embarrassing stories about the old boy."

You nod, feeling a bit too hot underneath the intense gaze of the two men at the same time.

"Yeah. Sure. Sounds fun."

The warmth in your cheeks doesn't fade until you are back in the safety of your own bedroom.

[0perfectimperfections0]

Which uglydolls characters do you think these songs describe:

-Love Like You (feat. Rebecca Sugar)

-Saint bernard (panicking at the wrong disco lincoln)

-little girls (Cameron diaz)

-Brutal (Oliva Rodrigo)

-jealousy jealousy (Oliva Rodrigo)

-good 4 u (Oliva Rodrigo)

-Wrecking ball (Mother Mother)

-Cults (Guided Lily)

Two birds (Regina Spektor)

-Are You Satisfied? (MARINA)

-Notion (The Rare Occasions)

-Alien Blues (Vandabar)

-Oh No! (MARINA)

-I Deserve to Bleed (Sushi Soucy)

-dumb dumb (mazie)

-digital silence (Peter mcpoland)

-everybody likes you (lemon demon)

-Romantic Homicide (d4vd)

-I love you so (the Walters)

-Step on me (the Cardigans)

-YKWIM (Yot club)

Finally getting to this post even though it's been months since I started working on it. I got halfway through these songs before life slapped me in the face, so let's finish it up!

Lord help me, there's someone playing the piano in the Solarium here at college, so there's two polar tunes going through my ears XD

<><><>

Love Like You: Nolan - Ha! You thought I was gonna say Lou, right? Well, I thought about it, but the line "And I'm nothing like you, look at you go, I just adore you..." and so on makes me think of Nolan when he was obviously trying his best to get Lou's attention. He was focusing in the class and trying to keep up with the training, heck, he made it to the Gauntlet. Despite Lou calling him ugly, he still tries to make Lou proud of him or change his mind. "If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do anything."

Saint Bernard: Sorry, but this song was confusing, and I honestly was thrown off too much by the slightly off-key singing that...bleh, no sorry XD

Little Girls: Kitty - Here me out, it gives off more Kitty vibes. I debated it feeling more like for Lou, but it's giving me "Ugh, no, you imbecile" vibes. The way she sings as well is the way I imagine Kitty singing. She's also kinda stuck with Lydia and Tuesday despite acting like she's absolutely fed up with their two brain cells.

Brutal: Kitty - Way too insecure and earnestly faking being okay to be anyone else. Also, "only have two real friends:" Tuesday and Lydia?

Jealousy Jealousy: Mandy - I think one of the main reasons that she hangs out with the Spy Girls is because she wants to be just like them. I don't think they just spotted her one day. Kitty doesn't strike me as that type of person. I think Mandy earnestly sought them out and has been trying to prove that she's as good as them.

good 4 u: Lou - This definitely screams Lou and how he dealt with Ox after their friendship ended. It also didn't help that Ox was living up the dream in Uglyville despite his nature, whilst Lou was still stuck in a perpetual nightmare.

Wrecking Ball: Wage - I feel like this is definitely Wage. She can be a little fireball (and she is during most of the movie). And most of her decisions are impulses of her anger or other unruly emotions. I feel like she just embraces her unvisceral emotions.

Cults: Lou - The middle verses kind of throw me off, but the main chorus of "Haven't I given enough?" is definitely Lou-coded for self-explanatory reasons.

Alien Blues: I've heard this song before and absolutely can't stand it for the same reasons as "Saint Bernard", sorry XD, but I don't think I can listen to it purposefully.

Oh no!: Moxy - Despite the whole "friends are great" outlook Moxy seems to have during the movie, she's very self-centered. She was fully prepared to go through the Gauntlet and portal without telling any of the other Uglies back in Uglyville. If it hadn't been for Lou's interference, the other Uglies would still be stuck. Moxy definitely has her own future set in stone.

dumb dumb: Wage - She definitely gives off the "I'm surrounded by idiots" energy. I know, you probably expected me to say Lou, but I honestly think that Wage would be the one to secretly believe everyone is on a lower IQ level than her. She did constantly try to tell Moxy that her plan was outrageous. She also gives UglyDog a hard time.

Everybody Likes You: I couldn't find this song

Step on Me: Nolan - I honestly think that Nolan wholly accepts (tolerates) any treatment from other dolls. He'll withstand the insults and bombastic side eyes if it means playing peacekeeper.

YKWIM: Ox - I feel like closer toward the end of his friendship with Lou, he felt as if he was getting in the way of Lou being a functional leader in the Institute.

<><><><>

Yeah, I admitted some because it's been months since this ask came in and a little bit shorter since I had first worked through the songs. The few songs I deleted from my analysis is because I just didn't have the attention span to listen to them or they really confused me because of the lyrics.

But yeah!

[playroom-sekaii]

hi!! um this is my first time requesting something like this so I hope I get it right, but can I please have some regressor rin and caregiver miku hcs? if you do the virtual singers ofc!

Of course I'll do the Virtual Singers! This post'll focus on their "default" versions, but if you'd like posts for any of their Sekai variants please feel free to let me know!!

-I can honestly see all of the default Virtual Singers as flips with decently large age ranges (they're meant to portray a large range of feelings, so of course their ranges for things like this would be large as well!), but Rin normally slips to ~2-5, she and Len are both quite the little guys!

-Rin's quite likely to slip after a long day of performances, or if a song she's singing that day is especially sad or scary (such as those by mothy, she ended up very small after her and Len first performed Servant of Evil).

-Miku's actually quite a good caregiver! She takes care of the feelings of people all over the world, of course she can take care of little ones! She's more of a big sister caregiver when compared to people such as Meiko and Kaito, but she's working as hard as she can to be a good cg for her Rinrin! Sometimes she'll even try to get inspiration from her iterations in the Sekais to learn how to be a better caregiver, taking notes while watching L/n and N25 Miku-

-It's actually quite easy to tell if Rin's feeling small, though her voice is a key tell, she's a Virtual Singer after all! Her usual voice is more akin to her Power voicebank, though when she's small it's close to her Sweet one. Other than that, she's somehow even more hyper and relatively clingy, the moment "Miku-nee" leaves her lips she can tell. She's not really ashamed of regressing, it's just a thing she does, it's okay! She's trying to get a certain mirror image of hers to realize the same...

-Obviously, Rin still loves singing while she's small! She likes to put on little concerts for the others and her plushies, and Miku always makes sure to cheer her own, glowsticks and everything! Usually she'll sing happier carefree songs like Sweet Magic or once upon a dream, though sometimes she'll try to sing Miku's songs to impress her, doesn't she sound amazing? Miku is very proud <3

-Rin is still a bit of a prankster while little, trying to trick the others quite often. Miku isn't immune to this, usually with her Rin will try to sneak up and scare her or hide her things. Miku doesn't ever get too mad at her, but she doesn't want to endorse this, so she ends up lightly scolding her sometimes. She tries to put Rin in timeout, but she always puppy-dog eyes her way out of it.

-Sometumes Rin ends up a bit grumpy, she's usually quite happy though she can be pouty when things don't go her way, but Miku's always there to cheer her up! She spoils her a bit, but can you blame her? Anything for Rinrin! Even if she can't solve her icky feelings through giving her things, usually a song can! Rin forgets whatever she was mad about when Miku-nee starts singing <3

-Rin really likes arts and crafts, especially while small. She loves drawing and making things for Miku and the others, and Miku makes sure to keep every single piece she does. So what if she has a drawer overflowing with drawings or ten kandi bracelets, they were all made by her little one after all!

-Rin's quite the hyper little one, never really liking to take naps, but thankfully Miku's amazing at lullabies! Softer songs from her will always lull Rin to sleep, even if she ends up pouting over it when she wakes up.

-Rin is very cuddly when she's on the lower end of her age range, and Miku is always willing to give her little one what she desires! She's surprising strong, so she can give her uppies with ease! Rin is very satisfied, she's not the shortest anymore, and it's all thanks to her big sissy!

-Sometimes Miku takes Rin to look over the Sekais with her when she's small, and she absolutely loves it! Look, that's her! But different! And those kids are doing such cool things, like becoming idols and putting on plays, can we do those things too? Huh, some of the people that have made Sekais are also age regressors? Woah! She plays pretend games based on what she sees often, or she'll pretend that she's the Rin for a Sekai of her plushies or the other Virtual Singers :3

[zmediaoutlet]

Happy WW! I have to pick your brain about established relationship wincest, because I agree it has a lot of untapped potential. Like, other the years how much does “brotherly-ness” go down, and “romantic partner-ness” go up? When was The Moment that they realized there really wasn’t going to be another outside relationship, that it could be them until the end? On the flip side, with canon, how much does Sam wonder "it could have been different with us"? Bc thinking about Dean II makes me so sad!

happy wincest wednesday!! (we enjoy wincest on all the days, it's fine)

So -- I'm taking a slightly different tack at this, but I think that with a lot of married/long-term romantic partners, the sibling-ness goes up a lot over time. Once you're out of the fresh lovey-dovey stage when flowers stop puking out of the beloved's eyes every time you look at them, it's like -- okay, so you have a long-form relationship with this person where you know a ton of their background and secrets; you've been together long enough that you act like each other in certain ways and share lots of in-jokes and common language; you find each other irritating in some ways but also fun in others, and you tease each other about some stuff and joke about some stuff and some stuff you just have to ignore/roll your eyes about for the sake of the house (unless you're those shitty siblings who insist on picking fights about every little thing). And like... that's Sam and Dean.

Now, adding in actual romance of course makes it different, but the thing is that they're starting pre-equipped with all of the intimacy and long-worn grooves of knowing each other that a married couple doesn't get until they've been married twenty years -- but Sam and Dean have that already! In the new-relationship era I can obv see a jitteriness destabilizing them some -- let's imagine for the sake of argument that they aren't hatefucking to start and instead it's a relatively nice coming-together (and coming, together) -- and so maybe there's a little period where they kind of don't know what to do with each other. But then Sam still farts in the car after a burrito and Dean still sings warbly and off key in the shower and they know each other, so the fact that they're also learning about each other's dicks can't wreck all that history. And, honestly, on the "romance" side of things -- while they maybe can be softer with each other, show a more tender side, get the benefit of lowered-barriers that pillow talk etc might bring -- I absolutely 100% cannot see them, like, "dating." Sam's not gonna pull Dean's chair out at a fancy restaurant they've inexplicably gone to, and Dean's not going to ask Sam to go on the ferris wheel except as a joke. They're going to keep doing the things they always did, because they are brothers and they aren't somehow awkwardly shoving that relationship into a romcom box -- they're gonna go on a hunt and to a pie fest and to the movies, and they'll act just like they always did, but maybe with handjobs after. That's what makes it *interesting* that it's an incestuous relationship, you know?

As far as The Moment -- that obviously depends on how you're writing the incesty bits, but in honest to g canon I think it's at very different speeds. Honestly, I think Dean's there about midway through s1, but it's obviously cemented after the thing with Lisa blows up (with the caveat that I'm not sure he believes Sam can feel the same until s10); for Sam, I think it takes until s11, really, because he's always looked outward -- asking Dean if he ever considers anything else, and then not arguing when Dean blows off the question -- and really sitting there in his life like, yeah. Yeah, I think this could be it. And it feels like a peaceful realization, and that point, and not the curse he might've considered it in s1 or 3 or 9.

(Sorry, I can't quite parse the last question w/r/t Dean II etc, but hopefully that's enough wincest to be going on with.)

[navree]

hi! any thoughts on Jinx and Jason parallels (/nerokchi/767512314557628416/wip-younger-siblings-with-mental-illness-and-an)? or Batfam in the Arcane universe?

(sorry about the wait anon i was actually planning to answer this on nye but then i got sidetracked by passing out at the restaurant we were at and spending the entire following day being coddled by my mother who was convinced i was dying even tho i'm fine, but also happy new year anon!)

One, this art slays. Two, I think there are some parallels, especially in terms of having things done to their bodies to restore them to factory settings without their consent or input (there's some differences, Silco allows Singed to use shimmer on Jinx as a last resort as he's desperate to prevent her from dying, and Singed still needs to sedate him because if Silco were conscious he probably would have stopped it once he saw Jinx in pain, to say nothing of once Singed starts exceeding his mandate which he does I think based on context clues, whereas Jason's resurrection, depending on canon, is either a spontaneous event no one is in charge of or something that is absolutely not done in his best interest or by people who have his best interests in mind, the al Ghuls were not thinking about Jason at all when bringing him back, only about Bruce and themselves in that iteration). But I think there are also a lot of key differences, like how they handle things like trauma and their mental health, it's touch and go which writers give Jason mental health issues and which ones don't but they're largely trauma responses borne of circumstances, while Jinx clearly has some kind of mental health thing going from the getgo, like a lot of people. Also their relationships with their siblings and parental figures are verrrrrrrry different, especially once you factor in that Jason does not remain the youngest in his family dynamic once you add in people like Damian.

As for Batfam in the Arcane universe overall, I think it can work! Kind of like when I talked about Batfam in ASOIAF, they really can lend themselves to a lot of fusion AUs very well (it's why I've got a Stranger Things fusion in the works along with the asoiaf au that's been living in my head since I got those asks). Obviously Bruce would be some rich Piltover elite, top tier though not necessarily on the Council (since canon Bruce isn't in any official government position himself). Obviously Jason's from Zaun, and likely Steph and Duke too since they also come from Gotham's more lower income neighborhoods in canon, and the versatility of Jason's origin, poor kid steals something from rich guy who finds that to be really awesome actually, can absolutely be transplanted to the Arcane world. You don't really need to change a lot about how anyone else came into the family, since Bruce just finding Cass and Damian being his biological son are also plausible and easily transplanted as well. Really after that, the world's your oyster, especially if you wanna add things like Hextech (if Bruce had access to some Hexcore thing when Jason died in canon, he'd have done the full Jayce and used it to bring him back to life and not felt an ounce of second guessing about it, but in a platonic 'i love my son' way rather than a 'puppy boyfriend who can't survive five seconds without viktor and loves him more than anything or anyone and will allow anything for him' way, God Jayce Talis you're nuts) and how that would affect it. Sorry I can't add more, but I'm not that well verse on League lore or even much of Arcane because I skipped a lot whenever my faves weren't on screen (mainly meaning if a scene didn't have Viktor, Silco, Jinx, Mel, Jayce, or Sevika in it I was either tuning out or just straight skimming, sorry to the lesbians I wish I had more energy for you). But that's my two cents on it!

[ca-hsmt-evaluator]

The big one. I've been readying this analysis for a while! Buckle up, this is a long one.

So, this song is obviously meant to depict the troll fight against their 12x Prototyped Black King, as shown in the positively INCREDIBLE video that is linked. Seriously, if anyone is reading this, give it a watch. The song goes through every troll, sectioned up by the black king.

To start, the black king's (as well as the condesce later on) theme plays on a harpsichord not unlike the one terezi's music uses. The theme is in a minor key, and sounds quite tense, despite its regality.

The theme speeds up before leaving the listener with the sound of drums, choir, bass and rain for a few seconds. These instruments are a constant of the entire song, and they, similarly to in much of the other music from this album, provide a strong rhythm and sense of motion to the entire thing. During certain parts, they may be edited or removed, but they always come back to remind you that this is a fight, and an important one.

Our first troll theme belongs to Karkat. It starts off with descending notes, almost reminiscent of carnival music? Whether this is because of Gamzee, the inherent silliness of crabkat, or the fact that his entire team is made of clowns, nobody knows. The section is taken from Karkat's theme, and thus Crustacean. Notably, the melody is edited to work in this song's 4/4 time signature, and it sounds excellent!

Next up is Terezi, who takes her part from the Lemonsnout turnabout. Her theme cuts in quite abruptly after Karkat's, though it may just be because of the way Karkat's ends on a sustained note. The melody plays twice, first in a serious, almost dark manner, while the second is much more upbeat, with horns (nonclown) and piano added in. Terezi, similarly, has a dark courtroom persona, with threats of hanging or worse omnipresent, but in reality, she's pretty silly and lighthearted, aside from the occasional murder. Additionally, during her section, the piano from both Terezi's them and the Lemonsnout Turnabout plays in the background. Her section ends with what must be the king screaming out.

Afterwards, the king's section plays again, faster than the first. Other than the speedup, there's not much new.

After this is Tavros, who gets his section from his theme, dESPERADO ROCKET CHAIRS,. What was originally a mariachi? style song (correct me pls) has been morphed into a violin refrain. It's quite short, and is missing a lot of its original characteristics. Perhaps an indication that the character it was written for has changed and grown? Where he once got a happy, fast trumpet song, he now gets a lower, slower, and almost melancholy violin. I personally believe this reflects Tavros' growth from being anxious into being more "confident." He's still himself, but notably different.

Next up is Kanaya's section, taken from Virgin Orb. The section starts off with everything going dead silent, save for a piano playing the start of her theme. Afterwards, in what can only be described as the most awesome usage of non-musical equipment in music (Eat your heart out Tchaikovsky), we hear her chainsaw rev into action, as her theme is repeated, but with every the instrumentation of rex duodexim and an electric guitar. Much like our fave vampire, this section starts of gentle and sweet, and then, when shit gets going, it unleashes hell. Thank you Mr. Brown for giving us chainsaw in song. Notably, the choir sings Kanaya's Theme in the 2nd repetition!

After this, we start getting trolls in pairs, and who better to introduce us to these pair than the dynamic Meowrail duo themselves. Equius part comes from the Horsechestra songs, while Nepeta's come from her theme. Equius comes in with a blaring trombone and deep bass drum hits, followed shortly by nepeta on what sounds like a xylophone. At the end, Equius' trombone takes a quick dive in pitch, only for Nepeta to sweep in and "catch" the section. This section shows the ideal moirail relationship, always stepping up for one another in order to help when needed. Additionally, Nepeta's theme is very playful, as opposed to Equius' which is so gruff it ends up being just as silly.

Afterwards, we see another moirailegiance between Eridan and Feferi, with Feferi on the piano and Eridan on guitar. This section is taken from Keepers, a song shared by the two highbloods, and while the original had more of a duet style, this one takes on a call-and-response style. Unfortunately, these two never get much screen time, so speculation is tough. There is the possibility of this being about them beginning to not work as smoothly together as they used to, but it's hard to say.

Once again the black king's theme plays, with no new differences! Short paragraph.

Next up are Sollux and Aradia, with what respectively sound like a synth guitar and sinewave synth, respectively. Sollux gets his section from The La2t Frontiier, while aradia's is from psych0ruins. Sollux's section comes as descending third-notes, while aradia's comes as ascending fifth-notes. Both of these are strange to find in a 4/4 song, especially when it previously changed songs in order to align. I believe this is a reference to the more otherworldly nature of these two, as sollux is deeply psychic and tormented by voices, while aradia is dead, a ghost, and similarly tormented.

Next up is Gamzee, with a fucked up rendition of the King's Theme on clown horns! Every instrument sans the horns and drums are silent, as the theme slowly speeds up. The horns come from every direction in headphones, making this a. bizarre listen. After the motif is played, lightning strikes, and we're left with the sound of rain and echoing honks. The choice to have Gamzee repeat the King's Theme is strange, and I have 3 theories as to why this was.

1. Gamzee has no Theme. Most song attributed to him have been horrific ambiance meant for murderstuck. Despite this, I still think they could have made one fit, and this is also a boring answer!

2. Gamzee serves higher powers. Gamzee has no theme, because he barely has a character. Gamzee, throughout the story, is always following the orders of another. Because of this, how can he express himself in this fight if there's nothing to express?

3. Gamzee is mocking the King. Just like in most other times we see him, he could just be mocking the entire battle, providing a shitty rendition of the main theme on honks, and not even bothering to add his own motif.

Despite this, Gamzee's section works as an excellent transition to to the ending.

We hear a new transition, which eventually leaves us with snare drums, beating away, as if in a march, just like in Terezi's section.

Vriska's section then begins. A version of BR8K SPIDER!!!!!!!! played on a deliciously crunchy guitar plays. The harpsichord accompanies as one last lightning strike finishes the song.

Frankly, who other than the girl who want to be important would finish this? Vriska is born to get the last word! Aside from that, Terezi's instruments accompanying her is an odd choice. The harpsichord may be the king's, but the drums are CERTAINLY from Terezi.

So. With ALL of that done, what do I think?

The song expertly combines around 11 to 12 motifs into 6 minutes, without ever feeling bloated or like someone is getting snubbed. That takes incredible musical talent.

Additionally, the song has excellent direction, it feels like it's actively progressing the entire time, thanks to the addition of the "king" phases.

Lastly, it's had tremendous impact. Not only is it for an incredibly important moment, but it has it's own retro-canonized flash. That's beyond impressive. It's also my favorite track in the soundtrack.

Thank you for reading.

Rex Duodecim Angelus

Album: AlterniaBound Composer: Malcom Brown Leitmotifs: Rex Duodecim Angelus, Crustacean, Lemonsnout Turnabout, Desperado, Virgin Orb, Horschestra, Walls Covered in Blood, Keepers, La2t Frontiier, psych0ruins, BR8K Spider Characters: Black King, Karkat Vantas, Terezi Pyrope, Tavros Nitram, Kanaya Maryam, Equius Zahhak, Nepeta Leijon, Eridan Ampora, Feferi Peixes, Sollux Captor, Aradia Megido, Aradiabot, Gamzee Makara, Vriska Serket, Skaia

You may know this from:

[S] Rex Duodecim Angelus (Fantastic fan animation)

[rommahh]

{Harry in sparkly black….Harry lemme **** *** *** for free}

You hadn’t talked to Harry all day. Not that you were mad at him or anything but your therapy this morning left you feeling a little spacey. There was something about talking about your emotions that left you feeling emotionally drained.

You missed Harry terribly and though it’s only been a short week, you felt very lonely. But on another note, your anxiety wasn’t as bad as it was. You were starting to feel like your normal self again but missing something.

You loved the tight knit life you have with Harry. You like being around him most hours of the day. You two were inseparable. If you were in the shower, he was in the bathroom reading a book from the lounger chair in the corner. If he was writing music on the beach, you were somewhere on the shore collecting shells. If you were going to the grocery store the least he could do was go for the drive with you. You two were close and it was something the both of you were ok with.

Some couples don’t like being so close but it worked for you and Harry. Being away from Harry was a weird experience. It’s only been a week but you feel like it’s been a lifetime. You haven’t minded being on your own but you wanted to be with the person you felt most connected to.

So being you, you purchased a ticket to Chicago. You didn’t know how Harry was going to react but you could only assume it would be a positive reaction. You told Jeff that you were coming so he could get you a hotel key and backstage pass.

As you sat in the airport you felt your back pocket buzz- your music pausing for the call. Your hand slipped into the pocket roughly pulling out the small phone. Harry’s icon, him in a fluffy robe looking as grumpy as ever, met your eyes. You cursed because you were quite obviously in the airport and if he saw you, the surprise would be ruined.

You answered anyways but only for audio. You made sure that your airpods were snug in you ear and there was no chance of them falling out.

“My lover!” Harry greets you a in sing song voice. You could hear his humph as he recognizes that you didn’t answer with the FaceTime video on. “Turn your camera on.”

“Can’t, I’m not feeling good.” You fib nervously. Harry frowned, nervous that he may have done something to upset you.

“Oh, alright. What’s wrong then?” He asks. You chew your lip trying to think of an answer.

“Uh, period.” You stammer.

“Your period doesn’t start for another few day…saw it on the tracker.” Harry may have your period tracker on his phone but it was because he wanted to make sure he was able to comfort you the best way he could when he needed to.

“Must be the meds-“ The sound of your boarding attendant sounded over your head cutting you off. “Hey bubs, I’ve actually got to go but we can’t chat later.”

“Sure, that’s fine I guess. Love you.” He mumbles, confused by the phone call. You hang up leaving Harry a little lost in his thoughts.

Later, Harry sang through his rehearsal carelessly, his head clouded with thoughts. He even sang through TBSL and though he was in the worst of moods, fans waiting at the venue thought he never sounded better.

You on the other hand had just sat through the worst flight of your life. There was a woman in the flight who didn’t want to wear her mask causing commotion before the flight could even take off. You had the worst headache halfway through the flight and because of the lack on supplies, the flight couldn’t give you any ginger ale or accommodations.

You didn’t let any of it get to you though as you directed for the chauffeur Jeff sent for you to go to the venue for show.

Harry sat in the common room backstage with the band and Jeff eating dinner grumpily. His fork was stabbing every little piece of lettuce of his salad, everyone watched worried that he may break his bowl.

“HS3 is trending on Twitter today, pretty exciting.” Jeff says to Harry breaking the silence. Jeff just received a text from you saying that you arrived to the venue and were walking towards Harry’s dressing room.

“Mmm great.” Harry grumbles. Jeff rolled his eyes at the diva.

“Someone’s a little pissy this evening. How about you go fix that mood before you greet your fans with a bad attitude.” Jeff scolds him like a child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Jeff really didn’t care about Harry’s attitude, used to the moods at this point, but he needed a way for Harry to leave the room and see you in the dressing room.

“Fine, didn’t want to be around anyways.” Harry shrugs.

Back in Harry’s dressing room, you rolled your suitcase into a corner where Harry’s outfit for the night resided on a hanger. You smiled at the sparkly black top that you helped pick out. You walked around his dressing room from the hair and makeup table, past the bathroom/ dressing area, and back around to the couch’s and coffee table where you took a seat. You snagged one of his green juices needing the boost of energy from being on the flight.

You heard the door knob jiggle but stayed planted in you seat sipping on the juice. You never made a peep as Harry barged through the room, scowl covering his face. He stormed past the couch not batting an eye at you. He went to the mini fridge where his juices were before letting an exasperated sigh.

“Who fucking took my juice?” He whines. You quietly giggle in your hand at his tone.

“Im sorry, thought I could have it.” You chuckle. Harry leaps from where he stands letting out a yell. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, hand over his chest as if his heart was going to explode from his chest. You stood from the couch waiting for him to react more but he just stood there in shock. When the realization of you actually being there kicked in he let out another yell before bounding over to you.

Before you knew it, you had two strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your wrapped around his neck, hands and fingers spread through his hair. His face tucked into your lower neck peppering desperate kisses all over just to feel something.

“What are you doing here?” You hear him cry. You pulled away from him to wipe his eyes of the tears that streamed down his face.

“I needed to see you.” Was all you could muster. He pulled you down on the couch, your body cushioning his larger frame. He laid in between your legs, your back flat in the body of the couch.

“Im so happy your here.” Harry couldn’t even put his excitement into words. He knew you were coming in a week but to have you here earlier than that made him feel things. He sat up from suffocating you into the couch, allowing for you to sit up beside him. “What about your therapy? I hope you’re not jeopardizing your mental health to be here with me cause I would much prefer if you put me on the back burner and took care of yourself.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m ok. I still will see my therapist virtually, I’ve got all new meds that are working fine, and if all goes to shit I will go back home. It’s ok bubs.” You reassure him.

He grabs your face with both hands pulling your face to his. Your lips meet with need. His lips slotting with yours, moving slowly but with rigor as if he was scared you would slip from his fingers. Your bottom lips fit between his lips leaving for him to suck on it slightly. You moaned at the feeling making Harry pull you in tighter. You sat slightly upon his lap, chest against each other tightly. Your tongues pushed at one another, lips loving in tangent.

You pulled away when you felt his lower presence awaken. He whined at the loss of contact making you giggle.

“If we go any further you’re gonna be late for your show. I’ll give you more back at the hotel, yeah?” You say lowly trying to catch your breathe. He groaned resting his forehead on yours chasing your lips with chaste kisses making you smile.

“Fine, you owe my though. This is level three apology situation that can only be resolved with these things; sloppy blowies, butt stuff, or face masks if you catch my drift.” He chastised. You let out a deep belly laugh pushing yourself away from him. You two still sit facing each other, your legs slightly on top of his.

“You’re so nasty, but I may be able to arrange one of those.” You wink making Harry let out a triumphant laugh.

“Are you staying for the show? I understand if your not.” He questions fiddling with your fingers.

“Think it would be best if I didn’t. I’m really tired and I obviously need a nap if I’m going to be up for your post show antics.” You joke giving his nose a poke. He jokingly pretends to bite your finger in retaliation.

Harry went on stage that night happier than ever. He started plotting proposals from the second he walked you to the car with your suitcase and waved goodbye to you. You went to the hotel room and “accidentally” fell asleep wearing one of your most recent purchases curled up in your tour bus blanket.

Let’s just say that Harry not so accidentally woke you up after that concert ready to love all of his adrenaline off in you.

Part 2👀

[marauderundercover]

Day 6: Party

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE 

Continuation of days two and three

Marinette grins at her reflection in the mirror. The costume was perfect- close enough to the original that you could tell who she was, but also with her own touch so that she didn’t hate looking at the costume. She’d even curled her hair slightly. The knock at the front door makes her squeal in excitement, knowing exactly who it is. 

“Cass!” She cheers, opening the door and grinning widely at her best friend. Sure, Cass didn’t talk a lot (she was like Luka in that way), but she always seemed to know when Marinette needed help out of her own head. And she was eternally grateful for that. She was even more grateful that Cass had agreed to do a duo costume with her since Jason apparently didn’t want to dress up. He was ‘too old’ or something. Well, Marinette wanted to have fun and wear a damn costume. 

“The suit is amazing! I’m not sure the cowl I made will be good enough for it.” Marinette says worriedly, examining the stitches on Cass’ costume. “Where’d you say you got this?” She asks, frowning. It was definitely higher quality than the Halloween store downtown. Cass just smiles, the one that basically says ‘not telling’. Mari just grins, used to it by now. She passes the cowl to Cass and grabs her own domino mask, sliding it on. Posing next to Cass in the full length mirror, Marinette takes a picture and sends it to the group chat that Jason had recently added her to. Dropping her phone into her purse and grabbing her keys, she turns to Cass. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

“Ready.” Cass says. Marinette grins. Look out, Gotham, Batman and Robin are out on the town. 

---

Dick squeals as the picture comes through on the groupchat. He was beyond relieved that Jagged had scheduled his Halloween party two weeks before the actual holiday. It meant that he, and the rest of his brothers, could actually go instead of being on the extra patrols they always had to schedule around the holiday. Grinning, he opens twitter. 

@flyingrayson

Look at my little sisters! Aren’t they the cutest?! #halloween #Waynefam #jaggedstone

[image description: One girl stands with a hand on her hip, dressed in what is obviously a spin on a Robin costume, including: a domino mask, black tights, dark red tunic with a Robin logo, gold belt, knee high emerald boots, and a dual sided cape black on the outside and gold on the inside. Another girl stands next to her with her arms crossed over her chest, dressed in what is obviously a Batman costume, including: black catsuit, yellow utility belt, black cape, and a redesigned black cowl.]

---

Marinette pecks Jason’s cheek and grins. 

“What, not a Robin fan?” She asks teasingly at his frown. He huffs. 

“Not really. More of a...Red Hood guy.” He says, and she snorts. 

“Of course you’d like the one with guns.” She says, shaking her head with a smile. “His costume is actually probably one of my favorites. Well, besides the whole helmet thing.” Jason grins, pulling her in and giving her a sweet kiss before he glances behind her and groans. 

“My brothers just walked in.” He says and she smiles. 

“Go say hi, I’ve gotta go ask Uncle Jagged a question really quick. I’ll be right back and Cass and I can show your brothers our awesome costumes in person.” She says, pecking his cheek before walking away. She looks around for Jagged, but frowns when she doesn’t see him in the main room. Pulling out her phone, she sends him a quick text asking where he is. 

In the garden with Fang!!!!!!!

She shakes her head fondly. Of course he skipped out on his own party to spend time with his crocodile. Smiling, she heads out to the garden to try and get to him. She’d wanted to see if the man planned on being in the US around Thanksgiving. Bruce had already invited her (probably to get Jason to show up) and said she could invite any of her family as well. Since her parents and superhero partner were both dead and her grandparents didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, she decided she’d really love Jagged and Penny to come instead. As she walks outside, she’s shocked that Fang doesn’t immediately run up to her. 

“Uncle Jagged?” She calls, frowning. Where was he? And why was it so dark out here? Fang was scared of the dark. Jagged never would have brought him outside without more lights on, he was too protective of him. She tenses when she notices a slumped figure next to the bench Jagged had put in the gardens for when she visits. It was one of her favorite places to sit and design. 

“Hello?” She calls, watching the figure for any movement. Seeing none, she steps closer and her stomach drops. Immediately she runs over and checks her Uncle for a pulse. She sighs in relief when she feels it, but the gash on his head is worrisome. How-

“Hello, Birdie!” An amused voice rings behind her, making her blood run cold. She whirls around and manages to catch a glimpse of the man’s pale face before a thick piece of metal flies at her head and the world goes black. 

---

“Jaybird! Where’s Mari and Cass? They’re blowing up on twitter, even MDC liked my tweet!” Dick says happily, making Jason scowl. 

“Did you seriously post my girlfriend all over your twitter?” He asks grumpily. Dick nods. 

“Oh yeah. Her and Cass looked too cute to keep it to ourselves. Where are they anyway?” Dick asks, scanning the room. 

“M said she needed to go talk to her Uncle about something. Personally, I think she was just avoiding you guys. You all crowd her every time you see her.” Jason reprimands, crossing his arms. Replacement rolls his eyes. 

“It’s ‘cause she’s so much cooler than you. And she’s not an asshole like you are.” He says. 

“Something’s wrong.” Cass says, suddenly appearing at Jason’s side. He jumps slightly, but then frowns at her. 

“What?” He asks, surprised to see the deep scowl form on her face. 

“Don’t know.” She huffs. 

“Well if Cassandra believes that something is wrong, we should investigate.” Damian says, looking relieved that he wouldn’t be asked to socialize with anyone. A startled scream from outside makes the five vigilantes tense before running towards the noise. Jason curses when he realizes it’s Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone’s….something. She’s kneeling by a slumped figure, shaking it until a groan escapes it. Jason feels his blood run cold when the figure’s hair catches the light. It’s Jagged. Then where-

“Where’s she? Where’s she at?” Jagged slurs out, blinking wildly. 

“Who?” Penny asks, gently holding the man’s face. Jason frowns at the gash. 

“M. He wanted ‘er.” He says, and though the man is looking around crazily and slurring his words, Jason can tell he’s completely serious. And M-

“Do you mean Marinette?” Jason asks, stepping forward. Jagged frowns, but nods. 

“Crazy clown.” He adds before turning and throwing up in the grass. Jason growls and turns on his heel, ready to go hunt the damned clown down. Out of everyone in this damned city that he could’ve targeted, why did he choose her?

“Jason, wait.” Dick says, grabbing his wrist. “We need to have a plan. Come on. You can’t just go out like this.” He reminds him lowly, Jason’s eyes narrow but he follows anyway. Might as well use the good tools. That fucking clown won’t make it to morning. 

---

Ice cold water falls over her and Marinette sits up, gasping in shock at the sudden temperature change. 

“Little cold, Birdie?” A voice asks before walking around and standing in front of her- a huge smile on his face and a thick piece of metal in his hands.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Marinette says, trying not to let her voice shake. This was the villain. The one she never wanted to meet. The one that gave her boyfriend nightmares that he couldn’t explain to her. And now she was alone with him. 

“If you’re sure, we could have some...fun before Batsy arrives.” He laughs. 

“Why would Batman show up?” She asks. “You do realize this is just a Halloween costume, right?” She flinches as the piece of metal- a crowbar, she thinks shakily- stops inches in front of her face.

“How stupid do you think I am? Of course it’s a costume. A costume posted by one Dick Grayson. You’re a Wayne, somehow. And Batsy always shows up when a Wayne is involved.” Joker says, his twisted grin making her sick to her stomach. 

“I’m not a Wayne! Batman isn’t going to come for me.” She argues, cursing her decision to not wear her earrings today. Some days were harder than others, especially leaving in a mask. Even if the mask was a costume. Every time she tried to put on her earrings today, she shook and started to panic. Granted, it was probably for the best. Because she would definitely be tempted to transform and she did not want to give Joker that kind of knowledge. 

“Wayne or not, one of the bats will come. You have friends in very high places, Birdie.” Joker tuts, twirling the crowbar in his hand. She flinches as it nears her face, making Joker laugh. “If I wanted to hit you, I would.” He says. She doesn’t even have time to figure out what he means because her shoulder explodes in pain. The pain is blinding and she wants to scream but no sound will come out of her mouth as she gasps for breath. 

“That’s no good. A silent bird is a dead bird. So sing, Birdie.” Joker demands, and he aims slightly lower this time, shattering her left arm. And she screams. The pain tearing at her throat nothing compared to the pain in her arm, her shoulder. She sobs, the shaking making the pain worse, but she was unable to stop. It hurt. 

“S-stop!” She manages to yell, nearly biting her tongue when Joker grabs her chin and forces her to look up at him. 

“Hmm. You’re right! The internet should definitely see this.” He laughs, pulling a phone out. She shakes her head, flinching as he whacks the crowbar against the floor near her chair. He points the phone at her, and she knows he’s recording. The bastard. 

“Hello Gotham! Look at this little Birdie. I’m afraid she flew too far, and now we have to clip her wings.” He says, sighing as if he’s actually apologetic. He sets his phone up on the table and stalks over to her before turning and waving at the camera. She watches him move the crowbar around warily, her breathing shaky. God, she hoped Jason wasn’t watching this. Hoped he was somewhere safe, not trying to go do something stupid. She winces as Joker acts like he’s about to hit her, only to stop before the crowbar actually connects with her good arm.

“I told you, I’d only hit you if I wanted to.” He chuckles. 

“Go to hell.” She spits out, ignoring the voice in her head (that sounded suspiciously like Tikki) telling her to shut up. To not antagonize the crazy man with the crowbar. 

“Gladly.” He says with a grin, rearing back and swinging the crowbar out to hit her in the ribs. Her scream echoes around the room and she has no time to catch her breath before he’s attacking her ribs again. Tears stream down her face, but she can’t scream, she can’t even catch her breath. I’m going to die, she thinks, and the thought is terrifying. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live. 

---

“Do we have a fucking location or am I about to go shoot up every goddamned warehouse in this city?” Jason growls as he zips through the streets on his bike. He knew Babs and Alfred were back at the cave, watching the livestream and working to locate Marinette. And even though he couldn’t see the video, the audio playing through the comms was enough to make his stomach churn. 

He didn’t give one singular fuck what Bruce said. He was going to kill that goddamned clown the minute he saw him. 

---

Marinette glares at the Joker, barely able to keep her head up. For some unknown reason, he’d decided to use his fists on her face instead of the crowbar. Not that she was complaining. She wouldn’t have survived multiple hits to the head. Not with the force he had. She watches him, and she knows he’s saying something, but she can’t tell what it is. She’s too tired, too hurt, to care what he’s saying anyway. Unless it’s some magical cure to stop her from feeling like she’s broken into a million pieces, she doesn’t want to hear it. 

Eyes wandering behind him, she’s relieved when she notices the costumed figure. The cowl, the cape- Batman did come. How strange. Though, she had assumed that Joker was live streaming. So that could definitely explain that one. Deciding she was out of immediate danger, she lets her eyes droop shut, reveling in the darkness that surrounds her. She let’s it stay, and she can feel things slipping away, some of the pain lessening. It’s nice, until someone is poking her and talking much too close to her. She lets out a whine as the person forces her eyes open. 

“‘m tired.” She mumbles, wincing at the pain that comes with breathing, with talking. 

“I know, kid, god I know. Just keep your eyes open.” A voice says. She blinks, the blue marks on the suit in front of her helping her to identify the vigilante. 

“Couldn’t fight.” She spits out, tears springing to her eyes as her attempt at conversation makes her chest ache. 

“But you’re fighting now, you’re staying awake. You’re doing such a good job, I’m proud of you. Stay awake kiddo.” Nightwing says quietly. She vaguely feels the ropes slide off her wrists and ankles. Fighting to stay sitting up, because slumping will hurt more than she’s willing to allow, she sighs. 

“Jason’s gonna worry.” She mumbles, and Nightwing hums. 

“Ambulance is almost here, kid, just stay awake.” He says instead of asking about Jason. She hopes Jason is okay. Hopes he isn’t mad at himself for letting her go talk to Jagged alone. Suddenly, sirens are close and she lets the world finally slip away.

---

The pain is the first thing that clues her in. She isn’t dead. Which is a relief. But the way her entire body aches, is not a relief. Forcing her eyes open, she sighs at Jason’s slumped form in a chair next to her bed. She wished she knew how long she’d been in the hospital so she could scold him. Because he was still wearing the outfit he had on at the party. Which meant he hadn’t given himself a break. Just as she’s trying to decide how to ask the nurses for pain medicine, Jason’s eyes open. 

“Marinette!” He gasps, starting to lunge forward, then stopping himself. “I thought, god, M, I thought-”

“‘m okay.” She says softly, and he frowns. 

“Okay? You were nearly beaten to death with a goddamned crowbar. You’re not okay.” He argues. She sighs. 

“I’m alive, and I’m with you. I’m okay.” She insists, wincing. He looks like he still wants to argue, but stops himself. He scoots closer and holds her hand, kissing the back of it softly. 

“I’ll never leave you.” He promises. She smiles softly, before falling back asleep, finally safe.

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess 

[watercolorfreckles]

An idea:

Hero and Villain going to the same therapist but don’t know about the other. The therapist knows both of their secret identities obviously and has to deal with them complaining about each other separately

Bonus scene:

Villain finds out that therapist knows Hero’s secret identity and tries to trick the therapist into revealing Hero (can be flirting, snooping in the office, etc)

Btw, I think you’re doing fantastic with your writing! I honestly can’t believe you haven’t written in so long— your recent work flowed perfectly. Thank you for sharing your talent for writing on tumblr!!! Also I just realized how long this ask is sorry I didn’t mean to overwhelm you lol

Answering my first ask (((finally)). I'm kinda nervous lol! Thank you so much for the sweet words, @glowing-alpaca (it wont let me tag you), that makes me so happy to hear. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you pictured, but this is the direction my brain wanted to go lol I haven't written anything based specifically on someone's request before so I really hope you like this!!

"Villain?"

The villain blinked and Doctor Meadows' office came back into focus. He shook his head slightly to dispel the thoughts nagging his attention.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked whether you gave what we spoke about last week a try? We talked about finding productive ways to express your negative emotions." Her voice was soft and void of judgment. "You have a creative mind, have you tried anything that has seemed to help you so far?"

Villain's gaze followed the curve of her pen as the therapist jotted a note down on her notepad.

"How can I possibly be productive when that fool in colored spandex is always barging in, getting in my way? What am I supposed to do, mm? Throw some pottery at him?"

The therapist's hands folded in her lap. "Even if you can't control the situation in the moment, you can still find ways to better prepare yourself, then you'll be equipped to process the aftermath in a healthy way. You can't keep Hero from doing things that act as triggers for you, but you can implement some techniques to control yourself better."

Villain scoffed. "What, you want me to try soaking with a bath bomb, sing kumbaya? Nothing will change until that cockroach is out of my way."

Despite the chill to his voice, doctor Meadow's expression was warm and gentle as she regarded him. She was much more sincere than the cold and demeaning therapists he'd met with at the previous facility he'd tried; or the doctor who cowered in fear when he showed up to his first appointment.

"I am confident that with time and effort, we can find a solution that will help you, villain. But you have to put your best foot forward. You have to invest enough in yourself to sow the desired outcome." Doctor Meadows held his gaze without fear, kind eyes and soft smile settling his restless energy.

She always had a way of snuffing out the tension that corded through him and wound him tight.

They had a connection, and Meadows seemed genuine in her care for him. Sometimes he even wondered if she felt more for him than that.

Villain huffed and glanced around the room, taking in the colorful artwork on the walls, the comforting throw rugs, pillows with silly inspiring catchphrases, and soft furnishings making the space feel inviting. He found it far more disarming than the sterile white, desolate offices he'd visited before.

The therapist continued after allowing him a moment of quiet to consider her words. "I understand that we are a ways away from you being in a place where you feel comfortable giving up your...occupation. I believe that we can work our way there, but for now, we have to take steps to minimize your destructive behavior. The intent behind your actions is the key to why you are compelled to do the things that you do. If we start there, we can make changes that are healthier for you and those around you. What things best calm you and make you feel grounded?"

You, he thought, but didn't say.

"Chaos," he said instead, dazzling her with a sharp smile. He crossed his legs, leaning back on the plush lilac couch.

Doctor Meadows didn't flinch. "So when you feel like your life and personal environment are no longer in your control, it comforts you to inflict that same helplessness on other people? To help you feel less alone."

Villain stared at her. Anyone else would have run and hidden at the look on his face.

Doctor Meadows waited patiently for his response. "Do you feel that that is a correct assesment?" she prompted.

Villain straightened to lean forward in his seat. When he spoke, his voice was low. "What gives you that impression?"

"When Mr. Ma--" her eyes widened as she cut herself off, correcting herself, "--when [Hero's superhero name] isn't around, you--"

"What did you say?"

For once, the therapist's blood ran cold at her mistake. "Pardon?"

Villain braced his hands on the table between them, slowly rising to his feet. He towered over her. "Hero. You know his name. Tell me his name."

Doctor Meadows pursed her lips. "I can't do that, Villain. Doctor-patient confidentiality states--"

"--He's your patient," Villain interrupted again, his smile something too sweet, too manic, to be sincere. Like poison.

The therapist tracked his movements while still looking steady and unshaken.

"Doctor Meadows. Juliet. You want to help me, don't you?" he purred, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "If I knew who he was, I could solve all my problems. Not to hurt him, just to keep him out of my way."

His fingers trailed up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin. She shuddered in a soft breath, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

"I am not at liberty to share my patient's information. You should be grateful that I don't share yours."

"Sweetheart, let's not pretend I'm just any client." Villain gently took the pencil and notepad out of her hands, setting them aside. Their gazes interlocked.

"Villain--"

"Juliet," he countered, voice honeyed. His free hand landed at the small of her back and he could feel a shiver run through her.

"Villain," she said, tone giving no room to argue. "If you are not willing to respect my rules and the policies I am required to follow, I will be forced to transfer you elsewhere."

He paused at that. The silence stretched. Could he stomach losing her? His therapist, his Juliet, the only person who came close to understanding him?

How dare she threaten to abandon him?

Finally, she shifted slightly under the dangerous look he studied her with.

"Villain. Do you understand?"

Slowly, he lowered himself back into his seat. He clenched his hands at his sides.

She smiled again, and it looked like home. "Good. Take a deep breath. Let's try a few new exercises together to help you manage your emotions."

Part 2

General Taglist: @writing-on-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter , @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees , @thelazywitchphotographer , @deadlygemuwu, @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher , @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @thanatoastie , @vlerlove-deactivated20210701, @feyriddle, yet-another-heathen

You're on this list if you've asked to be tagged in any of my writing before. I prefer doing a general list instead of individual ones since that is tedious to keep track of. Let me know if you want to be added or removed. :)

[cozza-frenzy]

Hey there! Was hoping someone out there would want to ask some questions. Obviously I can't speak for all systems, but this is based on our experiences and the experiences of systems close to us. - Terry, host of The Magbox

Yes, this is possible! Used to know a system just like this; large amount of alters, but a "front locked" host who very rarely left the front

Sure can! I'm non-binary, there are several alters in system who are the body's AGAB and many who are not. At least one of us is a confirmed trans man in-system.

Older alters are very common; often they manifest in younger-bodied systems as a substitute parent or big sibling figure. Our oldest, at least mentally, is Vimes who is in his 50s, the body is 35.

Any kind of alter can have any kind of role in a system, even if they don't "make sense", so while I've never personally seen a protector that's also a Little I suppose it's possible! Especially if the protector was created when the host was very young, and then stayed the same age

Depends on the system. For some switching is entirely voluntary, for others it's only involuntary, for us it's a mix of both. *Front triggers" can be useful sometimes (like when we need someone specific to help) but can also be a bad thing (we have an alter with misophonia who us front triggered by singing off key)

Depends on what you mean by this. We can voluntarily rapid switch to experience something in the body together (usually food!) but we can also rapid switch when we don't want to - alternating between two alters back and forth, usually due to stress.

Yup! As the host, I'm our most frequent fronter, and can go several days without leaving front. Other systems besides ours have alters that might front for days in a row without leaving.

For us, it varies? A dissociative episode can lead to a switch. We have one alter (who I'm not going to name because I know they can't help it) who frequently has dissociative episodes and forgets they're part of a system.

Our answer for this might be a bit different; we're OSDD-1b, meaning our "amnesia barrier" is lower. We don't tend to forget much between switches, and we have access to a "shared memory pool" of short-term memories.

Yup, this happens. Generally it's Ari and Hyi who ensure the relevant information gets passed on to someone fronting.

Co-fronting for us is when there's more than one person fully aware and "tuned in" to the body's senses. Backseating is when someone is "near front" and can come to the front easily - it's like if you want them at front you can just look over your shoulder, rather than shouting and hoping they'll hear you upstairs.

This might be an OSDD thing, but all our alters at least know who our friends) safe people are. They might not feel as close to them, though.

Yup. Alters are people just like any other, and sometimes they just don't like each other. This can cause disruption to the system either passively or actively; an alter who is actively trying to bully or sabotage others is called a Persecutor. They're not "evil", but are usually just misguided, looking for a way to reclaim lost control or reinforce what they think is a necessary fear of certain people/ situations.

It can be any kind of trauma, not necessarily One Very Bad Thing That Happened. For us, it was a lot of compounded emotional and psychological abuse as well as medical neglect over most of our life.

DID generally starts developing at such a young age that it's impossible to describe what it feels like. Discovering you have DID/OSDD at a later age though, like we did? A lot of stuff suddenly makes sense, like why the inside of our head was so noisy, and why "I" would do something and immediately be like "why did I do that" (because it wasn't me). But mostly it's varying levels of painful, confusing, and yet joyful and peaceful (because you realize you were never really alone, and you get access to old memories)

Depends on the alter! Our protectors are usually triggered when someone or something threatens us or someone close to us. Trauma holders it varies; they can be triggered by something related to their trauma, or something completely unrelated. Littles are usually triggered by fun or "childish" things - ours are polite and won't take over the front, but will come and see what's up when there's animals or toys that they like.

I wanted to educate myself more about DID, so I wanted to ask some questions I have about it to further understand what it’s like. I do not have it myself so I will word these in a way to avoid accidentally offending anyone or any confusion:

Is it possible for someone diagnosed with DID to not regularly switch alters? Like almost little to no switches

Do some systems with a trans host have alter(s) that are their AGAB and vice versa?

Is it possible for a system to have an alter that’s much older than the host, like 30-40+ years old or older?

Is the protector alter usually near the age of the host or is it possible for a protector to also be a little/young alter, or are little alters usually not protectors?

How can an alter switch? Are they triggered by an external trigger or switch whenever they want?

How does rapid switching happen?

Can an alter front for more than one day?

Does a dissociative episode happen every time a switch happens or only sometimes, or is it also sometimes immediate?

How does an alter switch back to the host? And I’ve heard that when an alter fronts, the host has a gap in their memory from the time the alter was fronting. Does that memory gap ever get filled or is it just never told to you?

Do the alters share information with other alters if they aren’t fronting? And can they talk in the background like a subconscious? (It’s a silly question but I’m just curious)

What is backseating and co-fronting (I think that’s what it’s called) and what does it feel like?

If the host meets someone like a friend while fronting and a switch happens, does the alter recognize/know who the person is, or do they think they’re a stranger, since it wasn’t them who met them?

Can an alter(s) dislike/hate another alter/the host and does it cause any problems with the system?

What type of trauma usually causes DID? Can it be any physical/emotional/SA related event or does it usually affect a specific type? (Sorry if this question is worded poorly)

How quickly does DID start developing and what does it feel like when it first starts?

How is a protector alter triggered? How is a trauma holder triggered? How is a little alter triggered?

If anyone can help educate me on this topic I’d really appreciate it! Feel free to put your answer under a read more

[parkers-gal]

simple acts of intimacy that actually mean a lot T.H.

wc: 3.1k (fluff)

taking something out of your pocket

"Tom!" you called for him.

"Hey, babe," he greeted you. You had just gotten back from a shopping spree, and you were holding about seven heavy bags, two drinks in your hand. Harrison and Harry were seated on the couch in front of the two of you, Tuwaine in the kitchen getting more snacks. 

"I didn't bring my purse," you huffed, out of breath from the walk. "Can you check for my phone? My wallet?" 

Tom smiled softly in response, sending you an easy nod. "Of course," he said, moving to the pockets of your jeans. 

He searched the front right pocket first, his fingers strong and warm and lean, and the touch made you giggle. He found your keys in the front right pocket, momentarily holding them up for you to see before moving to the next pocket. He found your phone and wallet pocketed in the back pockets, and then he was by your front again, searching your left pocket. 

"Your chapstick," he held it up, and you giggled again as he opened it and applied it to his own lips and then your own. "They say you get more alike to your significant other, y'know," he smirked, and you laughed again with a nod. 

knowing just how to calm you down

It was a dangerous scenario to be in in the first place, though it wasn't your's nor Tom's fault. After dealing with a rather rude man from the front desk, you were rushing out of the building, Tom barely trailing after you. Just as you were making it to the car, he rushed ahead of you, halting you.

"Hey- hey, hey, hey," he said, hands gesturing for you to slow. There were frustrated tears in your eyes, threatening to spill if any one move prompted them. You'd hope Tom could be the dam to keep them up. "It's alright," he assured you. 

"No, its-! It's not!" You exclaimed, breaking your silence. "N-now I have find another way to do it and I can't t-" 

"Love," he cut you off, hand caressing your arm, moving you into his embrace slightly. "He's an asshole- he had no right to tell you those things, okay? We're gonna find another way, but later, okay? Listen to me, listen to my voice," he whispered. "And look at my eyes," he moved your chin, engaging eye contact. "We're going to be alright." 

A smile broke out onto your face for the first time, and you nodded, fully accepting his hug and hiding in his chest. 

calling to make sure you've eaten

Calling in between takes and scenes wasn't uncommon, and especially calling during lunch. Tom had a tendency to forget to eat or take breaks; wearing the Spider-man suit was a big contributor to his re-prioritization, his reason for the distractions. Unfortunately, he tended to bring this habit onto the sets of different films. Luckily, you had paid mind to the habit, and made sure to check in on him everyday, especially if you weren't on set all the time. 

"Hi, angel," Tom spoke into the phone after picking it up. 

"Hi, Tommy!" You exclaimed excitedly. "How's filming?"

"Good, tiring. Miss you," he huffed out, still with a smile. 

"Miss you too bubs, tell everyone I say ''hey.'" you replied. "Have you eaten today?"

Tom was nodding off silently to a crew worker who had asked him a quick question. "Hm?" he laughed a light one. "Oh, yes I have. Have you, darling?"

"I have, I have, no worries," you assured him. "Drinking water?"

"Just got a new bottle," Tom smiled. "Alright well," he trailed off disappointingly, "I hate this part but, they're calling me now. I call you when the shoots over. Love you, baby." 

You hummed, "'kay, love you Tommy. And good luck!" You giggled before hanging up.

"Y/N?' Harry asked Tom, looking to the phone. 

"Mhm," Tom smiled. "She says 'hi'." 

wearing/borrowing clothes

"Hey, Y/N, have you seen my-?" Tom stopped short in his tracks, barely through the doorway. He smiled at the sight of you, a pint of ice cream sitting on the table in front of you, an open book in your lap and a spoon in your mouth.

You hummed, "What was that, hun?"

He eyed your figure, clad in his pink sweatshirt, before shaking his head. Upon realizing you weren't looking at him, he breathed out a laugh. "Never mind."

You hummed again, glancing up to him before smiling softly at him. 

**

"Hey, love?" Tom hollered from within the depths of the closet. 

"Yeah?" you shouted back, applying some lip gloss as you looked into the bathroom mirror. 

"Does this work with my outfit?" 

You laughed before walking over to him. You smiled at him: he was holding a baseball cap in one hand, your beanie fitted on his head. Though he loved his buzzcut, he also loved to wear matching hats, though this time you were wearing the sweatshirt. 

"I like the beanie," you agreed. 

He glanced up with a smile, setting the baseball cap down. "Me too." 

zipping up/ unzipping

Tom was waiting in the living room for you. It was almost routine, that whenever the two of you were attending a gala or a premiere together, he'd wait to see your final look, and god he loved the reveal every time. This time, however, was one of the first times you were doing everything on your own, no makeup artists or stylists there to assist you. 

"Tommy?" you yelled softly. 

Tom's head perked up, and he slipped his phone into the pockets of his dress pants before making his way to the closed bedroom door.

"Yes, love?"

You opened the door, stepping towards him slowly. Tom was awestruck, mouth agape and eyes wide. You were absolutely stunning, from every and all angles, and Tom swore his heart leapt into his throat.

"Tom?" you repeated, waving a hand in front of his face. 

It had just occurred to him that you had been talking and he had completely tuned your voice out, too taken up by the sight in front of him. 

"Sorry- what?" he asked, finally looking at you. 

"Can you zip me up?" you asked again, softly. You turned around, gesturing to your zipper. Tom smiled, fingertips softly grazing the lower portion of your back, before softly gripping the zipper. The fingertips of his left hand ran up your spine, his right hand with the zipper following along. He left a small kiss on your shoulder and you went straight back into the bedroom to get the remaining accessories for your outfit. 

putting jewelry on for each other

After you chose a few rings, you walked back over to Tom with a necklace in hand. You placed both ends in his hands with a hopeful smile before spinning around, making sure your hair was not in the way. Tom clipped both ends and let the jewelry dangle off your neck. He left another kiss on your shoulder before you intertwined your hands.

remembering coffee/tea orders verbatim

"Go find us a booth," Tom whispered in your ear, hand on the small of your back as he gave you a nudge, and the two of you separated into two different directions, you towards the seats and him towards the line to the barista. 

"Hi, how're you?" The barista greeted.

Tom returned a smile," I'm good, how're you?" 

"I'm good, what can I get you today?"

"Can I get a hot chamomile tea with some lemon...?"

"Size?"

"Uhm, medium please." 

The barista, Sophia, nodded. "Anything else?" 

"Yeah uhm, a medium honey cream latte? Not too heavy on the creamer?"

"Got it. Will that be all for you today?" 

"Yes I think so," Tom replied, handing her his credit card before moving to the counter to pick up the drinks. 

When he had both, he made his way over to you, who found a booth by a window. 

"Hey, love," Tom trailed excitedly, placing the mugs down softly. "I got your favorite." 

"Light on the cream?" 

Tom sat down across from you. "Light on the cream," he repeated with a smile.

dancing in the kitchen

A quick trip to the kitchen for some toast had started a mini concert by the sink and in front of the dishes. Tom was clad in a pair of sweats, white socks helping him slide on the cool tiled floor, his pink hoodie fresh on his torso. 

The speakers were playing a playlist of his favorites, which also consisted of your favorites, because you had introduced him to several new artists and genres. Song after song came on, distracting him from the opening and closing of the front door. 

Hearing the commotion from the cooking room, you left your bags by the door, going upstairs to change into some comfy clothes and finding your boyfriend rocking out to some of Taylor Swift's Lover. 

You giggled from the doorway, and he spun around to look at you, lowering the large metal spoon away from his mouth. 

"Hi," you laughed again. 

"Hi," he panted. 

"What," you took a sip of water. "are you doing?" 

"Dancing in the kitchen, obviously."

You nodded, drinking your water again with a smile. 

"Care to join me?"

You set the cup down with raised eyebrows. "Thomas..." 

Mariah Carey started ringing through the speakers, and the spoon went back up to his mouth as he started singing his heart out. 

"C'mon, Y/N...." he smirked. "You know you want to," he held his hand out. 

You rolled your eyes playfully before extending your arm, accepting his hand. "Fine.."

Tom grinned in victory, singing louder again, and you joined him, twirling him around as he did the same for you, toast long forgotten in the toaster oven. 

knowing what food you're craving based on your attitude

"I'm bored," you whined to Tom, who was sitting next to you on the couch, looking at his phone. 

He chuckled quietly as he clicked the device off. "Yeah, whaddya want to do?"

"Cuddle. I'm cold." 

He grinned again, turning to you, caressing the skin of your ankle, which was splayed across his lap. 

"Are you hungry, my cuddle bug?" he asked after pulling you into his chest, arms circling around you. 

"Mhm," you nodded, fiddling with his fingers. "How'd you know?" 

He grinned again, his face out of sight for you. "What if we eat... pho?"

You gasped, louder for dramatics, hand slamming down on his, halting your movements. "Thomas Stanley Holland how did you fucking know?" you whined, feet kicking lightly. 

He chuckled again, kissing the back of your ear before opening the Ubereats app on his phone. 

offering to drive instead

The gala was coming to a close, and you and Tom had both taken the clue to get ready to leave, heading out to the parking lot after saying your goodbyes to the present participants. 

Rounding the car, you pulled the key out of your hand-purse, unlocking the car. Your hand was still intertwined with Tom's, about to separate to get into your respective seats, when he spoke. 

"Do you want me to drive instead, love?" 

You glanced to his eyes with a thankful nod. "Will you?" you asked, reaching to give him the key. 

"Of course," he smiled, moving to the other side of the car, giving your temple a kiss as he rubbed your arm, taking the key from you and closing your car door after you had been seated.

remembering confessions from late nights or simple words that are forgotten by most

"Hey did you book the flights for next month?" You asked Tom, sitting across from him at the dining table, planner in front of you, a pen and your phone in each of your hands. 

"Just up till the nineteenth," he replied, thumbs moving across the keyboard of his cell phone. 

"Got it." 

"Oh also," Tom looked up from his phone, forearms leaning on the edge of the table as he looked at you, focused on writing more details into that little book you loved so much. "I booked us a round trip to Mae Raem. I talked to Harry and I managed to get a week off from work, in between films I think."

Your eyes were fixed on the boy sitting across from you, hands frozen in their places. 

"You what? "

"I booked us a flight To Mae-" 

"I heard that part!" You exclaimed with a laugh. "Why the fuck are we going to Thailand?!"

"Well I just-" he looked off to different parts of the room, the tips of his ears turning scarlet as his cheeks heated up. "I remember you saying you wanted to go to this little place in Thailand and I just- I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget. I was just waiting until I had free time in my schedule." 

"Tom you moved film times for this trip!" You laughed. "Why- how did you even remember that? It was like three A.M. when we were talking about those crazy dreams and shit," you laughed. 

"I don't know," he put his phone down, fiddling with his fingers and knuckles. "You just sounded so passionate about it- I just remembered the sound of your voice, I guess. It seems like fun." 

You clicked your pen, putting it down, and closing the planner. "Yeah, yeah it does."

remembering to buy something you'd forgotten to (grocery shopping) 

"Oh fuck, I'm out of jaffa cakes," you huffed, closing a cupboard door. 

"Let's go to the market then," Tom said, finishing his cup of tea.

**

A shower and a car drive later, the two of you were walking into the supermarket, Tom leaning on the cart as he followed you. You spotted the chip aisle, and headed straight for it. Tom chuckled at your behavior, suspecting that perhaps you were stocking up on your cravings-foods, knowing your period was coming too. 

Aisle after aisle the two of you went before grabbing a few boxes of brownie mix. You saw the aisle with cereal, and left Tom on his own. He chuckled, moving over the next aisle. 

"I think I'm done," you huffed, placing your last items in the cart. Tom nodded, putting a bag of apples into the cart before moving into a line for the cash register. 

"Wait lets do the self checkout thing." 

"Really?" Tom laughed at your suggestion before reluctantly agreeing, heading into the direction. He was scanning while you were bagging, the two of you moving like clockwork. 

Tom paid the receipt before stopping abruptly. "Wait fuck, I forgot something." 

"What?" you asked. 

"Nothing, I'll meet you at the car." 

"'Kay," you replied, rolling the cart out of the shop. Tom went off to find your favorite jaffa cakes, buying some extra danishes as well. When he paid, he added the items to the bags in the trunk before joining you in the front seat. 

"Ready?" He asked, turning the engine on. You hummed a confirmation, and Tom changed the car's shift, driving home. 

After the two of you brought the bags into the kitchen (in one trip, because two trips are for loser), you began unloading the items into their spots in the kitchen. 

"Wait," you groaned after opening the cupboard. "I forgot the fucking jaffa cakes!" 

"Ah ah," Tom spoke, pulling the sweet out of a bag he'd just unloaded. 

You gasped, jaw slightly ajar as you reached for the food. "Oh. My. God," you looked at the wrapping. "I fucking love you." 

Tom laughed, "Well," he was moving forward, his face two inches from yours, "it's a good thing I fucking love you too." 

and finally, showering together

"Tommy! I missed you," You greeted him, rushing to your boyfriend, jumping into his embrace just as he closed the front door. 

He groaned with a laugh, arms on your waist. "I missed you too, angel."

"Are you sore? Tired?" 

He chuckled again, "mhm." 

"Let's go get you cleaned up and we can go to bed then," you smiled at him, fingers running over the hair of his brows, trying to smooth out the stray one. 

"Sounds like a plan, darling." 

Making your way up the stairs, you ridded Tom of his coat. You went into the bathroom to turn on the shower, hoping to get the water warm, before pulling him into the bathroom with you. 

"We can do face masks or we can fall asleep watching movies." 

He booped your nose before answering. "Let's do the face masks tomorrow."

"'kay, arms up now, mister," you ordered him playfully, and he rolled his eyes before complying. 

"My limbs still work, yanno-" 

"Sure mister I-love-being-babied." 

"I do not!" he denied, cheeks reddening. 

"You secretly love it," you kissed his nose after removing his shirt, hands splaying across his bare chest and abs. He visibly shivered at your touch, and you smirked. 

"Now get in the shower, you big doof," you playfully pushed him in the direction of the shower before stepping out of the bathroom. 

Tom, unknowing of your full plans, hopped into the shower, letting the heated water cascade down his skin and drench his hair. As he was about to reach for the bottle of shampoo, you opened the shower door, your bare skin coming into view as you joined Tom in the shower. 

His eyebrows shot up, movements stopped. 

"Uh-" 

"Hi," you said with a giggle. "Let me," you took the shampoo from his hand, squirting some into your hand before rubbing it onto the top of his head, fingers running through his unruly curls as he hummed contently at the feeling, always loving when you did anything to his hair. 

"Rinse now," you said, moving to clean the strands out, ridding them of the suds. You repeated the process with conditioner (your conditioner, because though Tom would deny it, he secretly loved it, and cheered internally when you picked it up instead of his own) before reaching for the body-wash. 

"Uh-uh, let me do this one," he took the bottle from your hands, starting to clean himself. 

You laughed at his attempts before snatching the bottle from him. "You can't even reach this part of your back!" 

"I'm a gymnast! I'm flexible enough to reach that!" he breathed out a laugh. 

You giggled, shaking your head and letting your fingers caress his shoulder blades, his lower back as well as his ribs. You spun him around so you could continue on his chest as well, and his eyes were closed in bliss. When you finished, you walked him backwards under the streaming water of the shower head, arms wrapping around his lower stomach, hugging him, chin resting on his chest as he looked down at you. 

"Thank you for this, love." 

"Anything for you Tommy." 

He kissed the tip of your nose and smiled. 

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

Nightman (T), Chapter 1/2 >1k

Summary: Simon's come up with a brilliant song, but Penny and Agatha refuse to perform it for a musical assignment. Perhaps Simon’s roommate/enemy/boy who inspired the song can help his musical dreams come true.

Or, a cracky fic where Simon writes the nightman song from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Inspired by @facewithoutheart​ ‘s post

Warnings: none

Read the 1st chapter on ao3, or below :)

JUST TWO MEN SHARING THE NIGHT

“Guys, I finally got the song for our project!” I announce to Penny and Agatha as I sit down for breakfast.

Since the beginning of the term the three of us have been working on a music assignment for our Lyrical Spells class, but everything we’ve come up with so far has been awful.

Part of that is because Penny and Agatha are complete shite at anything music related, and part of it is because I really don’t get the magickal aspect of this class. (It’s like: lyrics can become cultural touchstones something something melodies as effective memory tools blah blah blah).

We had hoped with Penny’s great magic skills, and the basic keyboard skills I picked up from a boy in the care home last summer that we’d be able to make something passable, but we’ve had no such luck.

Until last night! I was watching Baz sleep (only because he’s been weird ever since he showed up late to the start of the term: he limps, he doesn’t eat enough, he looks scared when he sleeps instead of peaceful) when inspiration struck! I grabbed a notebook and started scribbling down lyrics. It was perfect! I could finish this assignment, and since apparently being on a truce isn’t enough, maybe my song could get under Baz’s skin enough for him to finally tell me what the hell went on in the weeks he was missing.

I eat breakfast as fast as I can, while explaining to my friends how I came up with the song for our Lyrical Spells assignment and how it could help with getting information out of Baz.

As soon as we’re finished eating, I drag Penny and Agatha to one of the music rooms, excited to show them what I’ve written. 

I place my notebook on the stand and run through the chords I came up with in my head this morning.

I start with a C minor chord and sing the tune I’ve made up.

“It’s the Nightman / you sneak into my dreams / you make me wanna cry / you make me wanna die / I hate you, I hate you Nightman.

“Every night you come into our room / pin me down with your strong glare / you pin me down and I try to fight you / you sink into me / I fill you up / you fill me up / and I become the Nightman.”

Agatha makes a face and it messes me up. I stop playing to ask what’s wrong, annoyed that my music is being interrupted.

“Well, I like the tune and all, but why are the lyrics about you and Baz having sex?”

“Merlin!! Ewwww, Aggy. That is obviously not what the song’s about!” I defend myself. I can’t believe she’d even think that.

Agatha looks doubtful. She just doesn’t understand lyrical metaphors.

“Just listen to the rest of the song, okay?”

I start up where I left off.

“It’s just two men sharing the night! / it must be wrong / it feels so right! / it’s just two men sharing each other / just two men, supposed to be brothers!”

Penny starts making a face but I don’t stop this time. I run my fingers up the keys in a fancy little move before getting to my favorite part.

“One on top and one on bottom / we were always meant to be more / one is inside and one is out / this is what rivals are for / one is screaming he’s so happy / the other’s screaming a passionate shout! / It's the Nightman / feeling so wrong, so right man.” 

For the last line I slow the tempo down and lower my pitch. “You fill me up then I become the Niiiiiightmaaan!”

I finish the song smiling, it sounds so much better with the keyboard, but Penny and Agatha aren’t matching my energy.

“It still sounds like a song about Baz buggering you,” Agatha says, crossing her arms, making that grossed out face again. 

“What!?! How did you get that from what I just sang??”

I turn to Penny for support but she’s also looking at me weird.

“Okay it’s obviously about our epic rivalry and Baz plotting to turn me into an evil creature of the night like him!”

The girls roll their eyes in sync.

“Maybe write some less homoerotic lyrics then, Si,” Penny suggests.

My face heats up (in anger, obviously) at her words.

“It’s not homoerati-homoero… it’s not gay!” I shout.

“Okay, Crowley, it’s Totally Not Gay,” Agatha says, coughing from the green smoke that’s started pouring off me. “Can you please stop setting the place on fire?”

She’s still not getting it, but I do my best to calm down and get my magic under control. I shoot Agatha an apologetic look, I know how much my magic bothers her when it gets out of control. I just wish they’d understand what my song is about.

“Okay well, you guys can either go with my song, or think up something yourself,” I say a little smugly. Even if they don’t like my song, it’s the best thing we’ve come up with so far. And it’s not like they could create a song without me.

-

In class later that day the girls talk to Ms. Lyra and pair up with Gareth instead of me. 

[h2bakugou]

I don’t know if I have sent a request before but here I go anyways, can I request a head cannon for the three musketeers (todobakudeku) (separate) when their s/o flinches during and argument. No rush and take your time thank you!

a/n: thank you for the request even if you haven't sent one in before! i haven’t written some angst in a bit but i’ll try to give these a happy ending!!

headcanon: their s/o flinches during an argument

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, some angst 

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shoto todoroki

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Todoroki doesn’t like arguing with you. He finds arguing quite pointless. There are more civil ways to come to an understanding but yelling at one another just sounds like a waste of time.

He’d much rather prefer to sit down and discuss things with you, listening to what you have to say and saying what he believes.

But there are some rare times where some arguments just form out of nowhere.

This particular argument is about nothing in particular.

It would be like having an argument over someone taking all the cover while they slept. Which is what Todoroki had claimed you were doing.

“We can get another blanket.” You smiled. The few times you’d actually slept together, seriously sleeping together, you might’ve taken all the blanket.

“It’s fine if you could just learn to share.” Todoroki mentioned, once again showing you how large the blanket was.

“I’m asleep and I’m cold, I’m sorry I’m taking all the blanket. I thought you had a half-hot side to keep you warm at night jeez.” Your stab wasn’t meant to mock him or his father, but Todoroki sure took it that way.

“You know how I feel about my left side.” Todoroki had finished folding the blanket, placing it back on your bed. 

You couldn’t help but sigh. He was really making this a problem.

“It’s a blanket. You don’t have to lay with me if you get so cold at night.” You folded your arms over your chest. You really couldn’t believe you were arguing with your boyfriend over a blanket.

“I want to lay with you but being cold is quite a nuisance-”

“I’m sorry i take the damn blanket! Just take it back! Jeez, you are making this so much harder than it has to be Sho.” You cut him off, tired of having to fight over a blanket.

His next actions were what threw you off. He was silent and he turned away from you.

Scared you had overstepped, you reached out to touch his left shoulder right when it set ablaze, singeing his shirt.

Flinching away from him, you stumbled back onto your bed. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, looking down as you stared at your hand, red from the immense heat that had grazed over it. Worried that he’d burned you, Shoto quickly turned around, panicking.

“I apologize. Are you hurt? I didn’t burn you did I?” Todoroki examines your hand, completely off of the blanket subject.

“I’m fine-”

“No no. that was not fine. I overreacted. I’m sorry. My love, I’m so sorry.” Todoroki kissed the palm of your hand before placing it on his right side, holding it to his cheek, allowing his cool skin to ease the redness on your palm.

“Can we cuddle tonight?” You ask, a small smile on your lips.

“I promise to share the blanket.” You throw in, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

“Of course, my love.”

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katsuki bakugou

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I’m not saying possessive Bakugou is a bad thing, because it’s not. But there are times when Bakugou can be a bit overbearing.

He’s not doing it on purpose by no means.

But I think deep down, he might struggle with insecurity. Everyone does.

He’s a pretty egotistical guy, and he’s cocky, and he’s got an attitude. But that doesn’t mean he has dark thoughts that creep into his head and tell him that no matter what he’ll never amount to anything great.

All that perseverance has to come from somewhere.

The argument sparks from you, Kirishima, and Kaminari all hanging out together.

“Hey babe, I’m back! Sorry, I’m late.” You smile, arriving at your scheduled hangout with Bakugou just a few minutes late.

“Oh yeah, how were Kirishima and Kaminari?” Bakugou asks, glaring at you as he stands up from sitting on his bed, patiently waiting for you.

“They were great like always-”

“So great you couldn’t send me a fucking text? Or pick up my calls?” Bakugou interrupts. 

Your mouth hangs open at his response. You quickly grab your phone and examine that you did indeed have missed calls and texts from ‘katsu<3′ in your phone.

“I was helping clean up and by the time I was done, I was rushing over here. I didn’t do it on purpose.” You tell him, surely this was all some misunderstanding.

“Are they better than me? Do they have something I don’t? I’m the best there fucking is here babe, you aren’t gonna get shit from anyone else that you’ll get from me.” Bakugou approached you, causing you to take a step back.

When your back met the door you thought you were done for. The raised hand coming up, surely to strike you, made you flinch, cowering down as it crashed into the wooden door you were pressed against.

In those few seconds of silence, waiting for something to happen, Bakugou recoiled, snaking back a few steps, staring at your small form.

His words were quiet.

“I’m sorry.” He said. You lifted your head to look at him. His own head was lowered.

You approached him and carefully placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Katsu, there’s no one else but you. I love you. More than you probably know. I don’t need anyone else but you.” You explained, watching as his blonde locks began to rise with the movement of his head.

His crimson eyes stared into your (e/c) ones.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou wrapped his arms around you. Bakugou didn’t hate affection, but he did reserve himself. He only opened up to you like this in private. His ego was a bit too big to pull some sappy stunts out in public, but this was what mattered.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you. I was just mad. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Bakugou whispered.

“I know you weren’t. I trust you.” You kiss his cheek, sliding your hands into his.

“Wanna get some pizza and watch a movie?”

“That sounds nice.” Bakugou rested his head on your shoulder, sure to be a bit soft for a while. He wasn’t always big and bad but soft Bakugou was still just as sweet.

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izuku midoriya

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Bless his heart, he hates arguing. 

He’s one hell of a hero, one hell of a fighter, and he’ll beat a bitch up if he needs to.

But with you, the thought of even having to raise his voice at you makes him worry. That’s not saying that he can’t but he doesn’t like arguing, not with you at least.

He cares about you, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

Like Todoroki, he believes there are civil ways to resolve issues, and communication and understanding, and listening are big roles in avoiding arguments.

But when some of these factors fall through, chaos is sure to ensue.

There’s a bit of a fallout with communication when Deku accidentally sends the wrong time for your date.

It’s a mistake but it happens.

The argument isn’t terrible, but it pulls on the heartstrings.

Deku’s running late. By an hour. You’re all alone at the restaurant and for the first time, you’ve been stood up.

He’d been training with All Might and didn’t have his phone. So when he sees the texts, he’s instantly on his way to shower and get dressed.

But when he arrives, the waiter tells him that you’ve just left.

Determined to make it up to you, he tries to find you. You couldn’t have gone far.

Sure enough, you’re sitting on a bench in a nearby park, listening to the trickling water from a nearby fountain.

“(Y/n)!” Deku calls for you. You turn at your name and sigh when you see it’s Deku. 

“Let me guess. You were training?” You could smell the fresh shower gel on him. You stood up to meet him.

“I was, I got my times mixed up.”

“I waited for an hour. You didn’t think to check your phone before starting training?” You ask, obviously hurt at his failure to inform you of the changed schedule.

It was an honest accident, and it felt kind of wrong to be mad, but at the same time, it still hurt.

“It was an accident!” Deku threw his hands up to try and explain but you flinched out of instinct. It wasn’t an instinct that Deku was going to hit you, but the instinct of fists coming at you. Something you’d just picked up from sparring matches.

“I-(Y/n). I’m sorry. I should’ve double-checked. Can you forgive me?” Deku quickly brought his hands down, lowering them and wrapping them around your waist to bring you in for a hug. 

You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled into his touch.

“I’m sorry too. I overreacted.” You owed him an apology. And it was accepted, as well as Deku’s apology.

“We can reschedule the booking at the restaurant-”

“Takeout and cuddling sounds a lot better than that fancy place. Besides this top is itchy.” You smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Sounds good with me. More time to spend with you.” Deku places a kiss on your forehead before placing his hand in your own to lead you back to U.A.

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masterlist

[acaplaya-musings]

Way Down thoughts: cover vs OG (with me being pre-biased towards Geoff's cover, and having watched it so many times I can pretty much remember the whole arrangement in my head) (below a read more because succinctness has never been one of my strong points, especially when it comes to my hyperfixations)

Okay so both start off on the same chords pretty much, but the Elvis version has a little bit more instrumentation (at least two different guitars I think). And then an electric guitar (another guitar?) comes in, and I'm certainly no expert in music theory and I don't have the means or knowledge to identify notes or chord progression, but the first three notes/chords it plays sound like the same ones that Geoff makes when he starts humming!

And then we get some drums as well

(I wish I was better at describing this, but alas.) After the line "the sound of your breathing, has made the mood I'm in", there's a brief instrumental run(?), leading to a key change on the next line I think? Anyway the music climbs upwards by about four "steps" (don't @ me), which Elvis does with guitar (again), but Geoff does with piano (I prefer the piano, but obviously I'm biased)

Oh so JD Sumner did backing vocals for the studio recording too (the "way on down" at the end of the chorus, because I heard the first one and was like "that ain't Elvis!"), I for some reason thought he only did this at one or more live shows with Elvis?

Huh, so in the original, the line is "a swirling carousel", but in Geoff's I'm 99% sure it's "a burning carousel"? Was Geoff the one who changed the word for his cover? The word "burning" does sound easier to sing/enunciate well than "swirling", but it's still an unexpected difference. (Oh and the "c'mon" was a definite Geoff addition, but I already guessed that 😋)

For most of the song, Geoff either matches Elvis pretty closely or goes an octave lower, but for "the medicine within me, no doctor could prescribe", he goes an octave higher - likely akin to the way most of his solo covers have at least a short section where the "backup Geoffs" take over the lead vocals (whether onscreen or not), and often in a higher register.

The next line is different as well, but in a different way. Elvis sings "your love is doing something, that I just can't describe." But Geoff sings it more like "yourrrrr love is doing something, that I just can't, (that I just can't), that I just can't describe." Y'know?

Maybe this isn't much of a hot take, given my pre-established Preferences, but I feel like Geoff does a better job on the "and I can feel it, (feel it)" bit leading into the chorus than Elvis (who had female backup singers helping him out on it). There's at least one or two reactors also that have talked about how the "ee" vowel sound is a difficult phoneme to go up on while singing while having it still sound good, or something like that.

Unrelated to Elvis's OG, but I gotta say I love the shift in singing technique between the first chorus and second chorus in Geoff's cover. Like he still sounds really good right from word go of course, but when the second chorus starts (as Character!Geoff completely ditches the janitor gear and fully embraces his inner Elvis), it somehow sounds even better!

The bridge is a little different too! I don't have the music expertise to fully explain it, but the flow of the lyrics is slightly different, and Geoff's is maybe in a slightly different key to the original?

And then the final chorus, with the different lyrics (e.g. "Way down where it feels so good/Way down like I hoped you would") is played basically identical to the choruses before it in the OG. For Geoff's cover, however, the instrumentation becomes very minimal (just a bit of light guitar strumming iirc?), and there's a little bit more of a pause between each line (just so Geoff has ample time to flirt with the camera)

Not gonna talk too much about the fancy vocal run thing that Geoff slotted in at the end before the Super Duper Low Note, because it sounds fairly complex, but basically it's his addition, it's very cool, and it took me a while to actually remember that part exactly because it flows so seamlessly!

JD Sumner's C1 chest note, my god! Like I knew it was coming, of course I did, and I was like "come on, hit me with it, lemme hear it!" And yet my expression still ended up like What It Do Dave when he makes a "Bass Note Stank Face". Yeah, that was impressive, kudos to JD Sumner. And kudos to Geoff for hitting it in a subharmonic!

In conclusion, I'm still a Castellucci stan through and through, but I didn't hate the original, and frankly I don't know why it doesn't get played on "classic hits" radio stations more often, as compared to some of his other songs, like "Burning Love" and "Viva Las Vegas" and stuff. I'm gonna go rewatch Geoff's version of Way Down now, just because!

I just heard the OG version of Way Down by Elvis Presley on the car radio? Geoff's cover of Way Down is one of my absolute favourite videos on his channel (so far), but like about two thirds of his channel (and a fair handful of Voiceplay covers), I went in totally blind, not knowing the original song, and not bothering to look it up before or after. But I guess now I might as well go relisten to the OG version properly (i.e. on my laptop and through headphones) so I can do more of a proper comparison (which maybe I might stick in a reblog)

[hotwings0203]

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

 It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

 You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. 

 Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

 ¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

 ¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

 ¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

 ¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

 ¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

 At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

 He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

 ¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

 Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

 ¨No way.¨

 ¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

 ¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

 ¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

 You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

 ¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

 It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

 ¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

 ¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

 You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

 Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

 Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

 When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

 So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

 The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

 Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

 You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

 Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

 Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

 Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

 Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

 Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

 You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

 After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

 Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

 Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

 From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand. 

 ¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

 ¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

 You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

 Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

 Damon barely acknowledges you.

 He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

 You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

 Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

 And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

 Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally. 

 Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

 Everyone except Damon Albarn.

 The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

 ¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

 ¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

 Until he spoke.

 ¨Is this your first time playing?¨

 You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures. 

 ¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

 ¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

 But nonetheless, you don't back down.

 ¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

 ¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

 ¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

 ¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

 The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

 ¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

 You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

 ¨I didn´t-¨

 ¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

 You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

 The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

 Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

 He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

 It's quiet for a moment.

 ¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

 ¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

 You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

 ¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

 Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

 ¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

 ¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

 Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

 You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

 Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

 Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

 You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

 Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

 The obsidian glass rolls down.

 ¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

 Oh.

 ¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

 ¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

 ¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

 ¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

 ¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

 ¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

 You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky. 

 He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

 You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

 The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

 You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

 ¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

 ¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

 ¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

 Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨ 

 He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

 You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

 You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

 ¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

 Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

 ¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

 You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

 ¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

 Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

 Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

 But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

 ¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

 ¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

 What a save.

 *******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

 But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

 ¨You´re late.¨

 ¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

 ¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance. 

 The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

 It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

 During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship. 

 Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

 Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

 Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

 For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you. 

 Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

 ¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

 ¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

 Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

 ¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

 ¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

 His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

 ¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

 ¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

 Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

 ¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

 Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

 ¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

 You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

 The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

 Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

 Take right now, for instance.

 As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

 You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

 Weather-2

You-0

 You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

 And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

 The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

 All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

 ¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

 Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

 Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

 You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier. 

 ¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

 Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

 He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

 ¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

 He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

 He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

 For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

 ¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

 He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

 ¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

 But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

 ¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

 Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

 ¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

 You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

 ¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

 ¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

 There it was again, pretty woman.

 You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

 ¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

 Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

 He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

 You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

 ¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

 He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

 ¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

 He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

 But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

 ******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

 So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

 The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

 No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

 ¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

 ¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

 You feel your smile drop a smidge.

 ¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

 But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

 Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

  Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

 ¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

 ¨Damon!¨

 You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

 Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

 ¨Get out.¨

 ¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him. 

 ¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

 Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

 You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

 It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

 ************

 It's nighttime.

 The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

 Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

 Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall. 

 The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

 Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

 ¨Looking for something?¨

 You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

 ¨D-Damon?¨ 

 ¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

 You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

 ¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

 ¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

 You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

 He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

 You can´t help the scoff that escapes you. 

 ¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

 He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

 It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

 ¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the  door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

 A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

 ¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

 You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

 His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

 ¨You smell so good.¨

 ¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

 He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

 ¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

 You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

 ¨We can´t.¨

 ¨Sure we can.¨

 You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

 ¨You´re not worth this.¨

 ¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

 And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

 You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

 ¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

 You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

 But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

 You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

 He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

 ¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

 You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

 It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

 ¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

 ¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

 He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

 But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

 His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

 ¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

 You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

 With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

 You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

 ¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

 Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

 Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

 You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

 He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

 ¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

 Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

 You want to run your hands through his hair.

 ¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

 ¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

 Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

 ¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

 Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

 He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

 You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

 It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

 And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

 He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

 Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

 ¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

 Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

 You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

 It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

 He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

 For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

 He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

 ¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops. 

 You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

 ¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

 ¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

 ¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

 He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

 It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

 You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

 ¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

 He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

 ¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

 ¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

 ¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

 ¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

 Halfway?

 Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

 Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

 His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

 He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

 Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary. 

 You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

 It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

 You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

 ¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

 ¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

 It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

 Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

 He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

 Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

 Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.