#lyrics are from I'm not okay by Weathers

[aterfish]

I'm not ever careful and I can be rude, yeah

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

Goodbye BTS World 🥺 goodbye video calls and text messages that made us smile, goodbye phone calls that made us laugh </3

[bookshelf-dust]

when it's rainin'

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 2,666 ;)

warnings: swearing, reader has a fear of thunderstorms, kinda newly established relationship, a few sexual innuendos, fluff

a/n: hi! this was very self-indulgent for me and i am decidedly dedicating this fic to all of my fellow thunderstorm fearers. i see you. i am you. i hope this isn't too bad. i revised it too many times and i'm still feeling a little fretful over it. also, the title is a fleetwood mac lyric. bite me. anyways, please let me know what you think! mwah mwah i love you <333

————

“Billy, I gotta get going.”

You squeeze the fat of his thigh where it’s draped over both of your legs. He takes hold of your wrist; his grip gentle, if not a little teasing. 

He turns to look at you, head lolling against the back of the couch. His hair is pushed up messily behind him on the cushion. You know that if he were to sit up, it’d be matted in the way that it gets when he lays on it for too long. 

Billy knows the cogs in your brain are at work. The beginnings of a cocky smirk play at the corners of his mouth. He furrows his brow, faux concern written all across his face, as if something’s wrong. 

“But it’s rainin’, baby.” He gives his head a little shake, like he can’t believe you’d leave in weather like this.

His smirk is in full bloom when he laces his fingers with yours and lifts your hand up to his mouth. You turn to look out the window and feel him press a kiss to your knuckles. 

He’s buttering you up and you know it. 

“It’s just rain, Hargrove. And I do know how to drive.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the rain picks up, enough so that you can hear it pounding against the roof. 

Billy laughs, low and sweet. You glare at him.

“Fine. I’ll wait it out.”

“Mhm,” he grunts, peeling his leg off of yours and repositioning himself on the couch. He leans up against the arm, and holds his own out to you. You know what he’s doing, so you oblige. 

Billy loves to watch storms, and holding you this way makes for a better view out the window. You lean into him, back pressed to his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and buries his face in your neck. 

There’s a crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder that follows seems to shake the earth itself. Your stomach drops. This is exactly what you hadn’t wanted to happen, and now you’re stuck here, with Billy, internally panicking over a thunderstorm. Admittedly, you do feel a bit safer than you would alone in your bedroom, but this fear isn’t exactly something you share with others. 

“You can’t drive home in that,” he argues. 

You grab hold of Billy’s forearms, his skin warm under your palms. “I said I’d wait it out,” you mumble. 

He kisses the side of your throat, and it’s the kind of kiss you might feel lingering there for the rest of the day. Like his lips have left a searing brand against your skin. 

“You could just stay,” he drawls. 

“Billy.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh and moves his face back from you. “Yeah, I know. You don’t love me.”

You let yourself slide further down the couch until your head rests on Billy’s tummy. He doesn’t let go of you though, hands rubbing over your collarbones. “That’s not fair.”

It thunders then, at a volume you couldn’t have expected. It rattles both you and the windows, making you jump. 

“You okay?” Billy’s tone is sincere. 

You sit back up a little bit, and he uses the leverage to pull you into him. He wraps his arms around you completely, enveloping you in warmth and the scent of his body wash. The gesture is protective. He can see the way you glance out the window, and he thinks you might be looking for that flash, that queue for another rumble. 

“‘M fine. Scared me is all.”

Your grip on Billy’s knee says otherwise. He thinks he understands.

“I’ve never been with you during a storm before. You don’t like ‘em?”

You glance back at him. The concern on his face is genuine this time, but you can still see that underlying tendency to tease, like he’s ready to use it when he feels necessary. 

“Rain is fine,” you start. “I love it, actually. It’s just when it gets like this, when you can’t see down the driveway anymore and it’s windy. I really don’t like the wind.”

It is pretty damn windy. Billy hadn’t noticed it until you pointed it out. It makes him glad he parked under the carport today, knowing this is the kind of storm that leaves a mess behind. 

You’re starting to panic, not only because you’ve just told Billy about your childish fear, but also because you don’t know what kind of weather they’re calling for. You live in Indiana, for fucks sake. You don’t like that all of this is out of your control, that there’s nothing you can do but wait it out. 

“Hey, look at me.” Billy says, voice low and enticing. It pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. Your fingers are cold where they press into his legs. You twist around to face him and his hands meet your cheeks. His eyes are boring into yours. 

He kisses you. It’s slow, measured. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and demands your full attention. 

You realize too late that it’s a distraction. You don’t jump when it thunders this time. 

Billy pulls away, pleased with the blissed out look on your face. With the fact that he’s seemingly calmed you down for the moment. 

“That sweatshirt you like is on my bed. Why don’t you go get it, huh?”

You nod and he steadies you when you climb off of him and the couch. Billy wants to look at the weather, but he also wants to take care of you. He’s not letting you drive home tonight. 

You slip down the hall and Billy uses the time to flip the channel, assuming the weather will be on. 

You find his sweatshirt where he told you it’d be and stop at the foot of his bed, pulling it on over your head. It smells like him. Not like his cologne or cigarettes, but like the Billy who took a shower and got cold, who fell asleep earlier than usual and slept in more clothes than he ever has—this sweatshirt included. 

You see the lightning this time and are able to brace yourself for the thunderclap that follows. You still scramble back to the living room, seeking refuge in Billy. 

Your footsteps are quiet despite your panic, and Billy only notices you’ve entered the room because he’d sat up firmly against the back of the couch. You’re chewing on your lip, staring at the warnings flying across the screen. “What’d it say?” 

Billy turns the tv off. “Nothing bad baby, promise.” He holds out his hands and scoots to the edge of his seat, pulling you to stand in between his legs. He closes them against your own, gently trapping you there. “Just that it was gonna be stormy the rest of the night.”

Your brow furrows. “It’s not gonna let up?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” This time you catch the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. Clearly he’s happy with himself and the weather. 

Billy’s always loved these kinds of storms, and he hates that you don’t, but if he can get rain and his baby to spend the night all in one go? He’ll be pretty damn content. 

You realize that you should’ve watched the weather report this morning, but it seems that when you know you’ll be spending time with Billy, he’s the only thing that occupies your brain. 

“Dammit,” you say. 

Billy squeezes at your hips, and it makes you look down at him. There’s a pout on his face: the crease between his brows deepening, his bottom lip jutting out just that little bit. He squeezes harder now that he’s got your attention. 

“Something wrong with staying here? You really wanna go home that bad?” 

Billy’s teasing and you know it. You know that he’d let you go if you actually wanted to, that he’d worry until you got home and called him to say you were okay. You also know that he wants you to stay, and you’ve known that since you got to his place and saw the relief on his face. Hell, he hasn’t stopped touching you since then either. He’s plenty needy today. 

You cup his face with your hands, swipe your thumb over the smattering of freckles under his eye. His fingers have made their way under the hem of your (his) shirt and are pressing into your skin. 

“I didn’t say that. I just told my parents that I wouldn’t be home too late.”

“So call and say you’re staying the night, that you don’t want to drive home in this weather.”

You decide then that maybe you don’t need to overthink this so much. That maybe you shouldn’t let your brain ruin what could be a nice night. 

“Okay.”

Billy blinks up at you.

You move away from him and then you’re picking up the phone from its place on the wall, punching in your home number. 

Billy can’t believe that worked. You never listen to him. And clearly you recognize this given that you’re hiding a grin with the back of your hand as you talk. The phone call is over quickly, and when you walk back over to him, Billy pulls you down into his lap. Your fingers find their way into his hair before you can even think about it. 

“Have I behaved better than I thought?” Billy asks, tentatively rubbing up and down your thighs. 

You grin at him and place a kiss on his cheek. It’s warmer than it should be, because somehow you’ve managed to fluster him. 

“You keep giving me your pitiful little looks, Billy.”

He scoffs. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, pretty boy.”

He blushes. Goddamnit, Billy thinks. You can read him much too easily now. He’s really fucked. 

Billy exhales. “I’ve wanted you to stay the night for weeks. But you always had to be home or somethin’. And the storm seems to be working in my favor tonight, y’know?” He gives you this look then, his eyes traveling across your face, down your neck and back up. He bats his lashes at you and you slap him on the shoulder. 

He acts as though he’s appalled, grabbing you by the waist and maneuvering you off of him and onto the couch. Billy braces himself against the cushions and hovers over top of you. “Now that was just rude.”

“You deserved it,” you bite back, leaning up to swipe the tip of your tongue across the end of his nose. “Hate it when you flirt with me.”

Billy rolls his eyes and lets his weight drop down on top of you, causing you to voice an audible oof. 

He props himself up on his elbows, face inches from yours. “Mhm. Hate it when your boyfriend flirts with you. I believe it.”

You start to say something, something he knows will be a smartass remark, so Billy presses his lips to yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. You make a noise of surprise and Billy starts to laugh against your mouth, a low chuckle that makes you want to both keep kissing him and shove him on the floor. 

Billy pulls away to press kisses to both of your cheeks and the center of your throat. You’re lost in his affection when it thunders again, making you jolt underneath him. He brings a hand up to cradle your cheek. “Hey. S’okay.”

You start to nod when the lights flicker, and you swear your heart falls out of your ass. Please don’t let the power go out, you think. He can read the panic on your face. 

“Okay,” Billy grunts, pushing himself to stand. “New plan.”

You sit up, and Billy quickly hooks one arm around your back, the other under your thighs. He hoists you up and over his shoulder, making you squeal with how swift the action is. But you don’t protest, and only hope that he won’t drop you on the way to his next destination.

Billy sets you down on his bed.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, running your hands down your face. You realize too quickly the opening you’ve given him.

He leans in to kiss your forehead, though he pulls away and lets his mouth linger over the shell of your ear. 

“You can ride anytime you want, baby.”

You fall back onto his mattress. “Billy, please.”

“Don’t gotta beg, honey. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

You hold back a groan at his antics. “I really should’ve gone home.” 

Billy laughs and lands a playful smack to the side of your thigh before moving towards his dresser. 

You push up on your elbows to watch him sort through his clothes. He grabs a couple things and brings them to you before pulling his own shirt off over his head. 

“Why are you stripping?” You question, looking over the shirt and shorts he’d handed you. 

“If you think that’s stripping, clearly I haven’t been good enough to you,” Billy snorts.

You grin up at him. “Are these for me?” you ask, holding onto the bundle of fabric in your hands. 

“Mhm. For you to sleep in.”

You nod hesitantly, having just seen a flash outside of Billy’s window. This time the rumble is just that, not a clap, not enough to rattle the windows in their frames. 

Billy moves towards his door, with the promise of getting more blankets, allowing you a moment to change. He comes back with water for you, too.

He kicks the door closed behind him, internally melting at the sight of you in his clothes. You’re so pretty, it physically hurts him. He’s never felt that way in his life. 

Billy gets you to drink some for him before you’re scooting further into his bed and he’s kicking off his sweats. 

You watch him move around the room, the way the muscles of his back move as he’s shutting blinds and pulling makeshift curtains closed. He turns off the overhead light, leaving only that coming from the lamps he has. 

You’re in awe of how easy it is for him to take care of you. How he didn’t pester you for being afraid of the storm but instead has comforted you and seems dedicated to keeping you safe. 

Billy finally slips into bed beside you. “What are we doing?” you ask, eyeing his torso while he settles in. He pretends not to notice. 

“I’m protecting you from the big bad storm, baby.” He kisses your hairline. 

You smile at him, one of pure joy that starts slow and grows brilliantly. The both of you are bundled up like it’s some big sleepover, or like you’ve stayed up hiding a book beneath the sheets. 

“Well, I’m not sleepy. So what’d you wanna do? Tell secrets?” 

Billy props his head up, palm cradling the base of his skull, elbow squishing his pillow. He laughs and squeezes at your hip. 

“Trivia? Talk about boys?” you continue. 

He shakes his head, his smile matching yours and making his eyes crinkle at the corners. Sometimes he can’t believe he landed you. “You got a boy you wanna talk about?”

You snort. “Mhm. There’s one I like. He’s pretty but super grumpy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep.”

“I think trivia might be better since you’re just going to bully me.” 

Billy flops down on his back. You push up so you can hover over him. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

Billy rolls his eyes but kisses you again, pulling your face down to meet his, mouth warm against yours. The next round of thunder is louder than the last and your heart rate picks up, but with him here it feels okay.

It’s hard not to feel safe when he takes such good care of you, when he’s warm enough that everything feels protected, like you could weather any storm with him and his smart ass mouth.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson (for being such a gem and helping me)

[starzwithapen]

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

[fleursbending]

𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆. 

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : sully!family x daughter!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you try to prove to your family the endurance you behold. but your trials and tribulations get the best of you.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : requested, yes | no. based on a few chosen lyrics from the song this is me trying by taylor swift. not proofread sorry!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : angst no comfort, dialogue-heavy, character death oops, deviates from the original atwow movie plot!

𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 : - ‘eveng - child // tsmuke - sister // iknimaya - rite of passage // muntxate - wife // ngaytxoa - i'm sorry // 'ite - daughter // sa'nok - mother // olo’eyktan - clan leader // tsamsiyu - warrior // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k words.

I've been having a hard time adjusting.

Life in the Hallelujah Mountains was a direct juxtaposition from whence you came. The ruggedness of the rocks, the sound of your feet making contact with the stones beneath you. There wasn't any shrubbery to whack out of your face. Instead, it was squeezing around the commune of people and narrowly avoiding knocking into tents.

You missed the plushness of the earth that would encompass you, guiding you to another adventure. Instead of your feet aching at the impact, they'd sink into the soil. When you'd inhale, the oxygen granted you serenity.

Up here the air was a little thinner, not enough to affect your oxygen on a larger scale - but it didn't pass you. Nothing did.

You made sure your father knew of such grievances.

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting.

A prodigy had been birthed within you the moment your soul graced the world. The people were more than hyperaware of it. Especially Mo'at who looked like she'd seen Eywa herself as Neytiri cradled you for the first time in her arms.

That was before. When wielding a bow and arrow came easy to you, when you'd been the youngest to have a successful hunt, when you'd come back from a fishing trip with your dad with enough to feed the whole clan.

After coming in the form of your brother who was proving to be someone who looked and felt like he was more deserving of the role of Olo'eyktan one day.

The berries on top came in the form of leaving the communities rendition of Home Tree up to the mountains where the Sky People could no longer target them.

She'd never felt this weathered down, this loneliness ebbing away at all her wasted potential. The regrets anchor themselves then, a stark reminder that this war was brooding and vicious. At a young age, she must force herself to become capable.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back.

When the day came for you to prove just that, you did so within a blink of an eye. You didn't know the consequences that would come for doing so, all that was drilled in your mind was "my family."

So when your mother's arrows came flying in the dark of the night to try to save you from your kidnappers. The rain casts itself over and your little sister Tuk is getting choked out by one of the soldiers. This was your time to truly try.

I have a lot of regrets about that.

You barreled in, ripping the soldier's hands from your sister's neck, and pushing her behind you.

"Go tuk, run!" Urgency is crystal in your voice, and Lo'ak can only give you a quick glance of fear before grabbing your sister in haste.

He was waiting for you.

"No, Lo'ak - go! I'll follow after you, okay?" You grunt, trying to battle this soldier off.

He soundlessly nods, gulping and blinking the tears that prickle at his eyes before disappearing into the foliage and eclipse of the night.

If only her stubborn self just kneed the soldier in the groin and left with them.

Could've followed my fears all the way down.

The trepidation began to bubble in the pit of her belly, and it sunk deeper and deeper the more the soldier overpowered her.

A wrangled cry escapes her throat as a very distinct "pop" echoes through the brewing chaos. He'd dislocated her shoulder. She didn't have time to dwell on it though, her uninjured arm reaching for the knife and unsheathing it from the soldier's grasp.

Everything slows down then.

Somehow she's being pushed onto the floor, and the knife that was once pressed to her perpetrator's neck was now inching into her stomach.

Oh, she's hurt. Blood pooled in her mouth then, the man letting out a menacing laugh - gun in hand and about to land a bullet to her head when an arrow shot into his instead.

And maybe I don't quite know what to say.

"My dear 'eveng, no!" She hovers over you in worry, looking around before muttering apologies. The knife was still lodged in your gut as she tried her best to lift you up and carry you to safety.

Your hand gripping the handle of the knife weakens, slipping in and out of consciousness as your mother tries her best to find the others.

"Ngaytxoa, sa'nok." You rasp out, chest shuddering at the sheer effort such a minor action took.

She hushed you, worries growing at how pale you'd already gotten as she enters a clearing.

"Muntxate?" A hushed whisper comes from in front of you.

It makes your mother jump in fright, jostling you a little making you let out something akin to a wail.

"Ma Jake, help her! I do not know what to do!" Your mother sobs in defeat, crouching to gently lay you down on the soft patch of grass beneath you.

"D-dad..." You grunted as his hand pressed on your dislocated shoulder.

I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

"Ma 'ite, what happened?" Your sempul's eyes glaze over in worry taking in your form. He did not know anatomy well, but the placement of where you'd been stabbed would have definitely gotten some of your organs.

"I had to save her dad, I had to save Tuk" She mumbled, eyes lost and looking at the night sky peering at her through the branches of trees.

"Tsmuke!" Tuk whines out, kneeling by your head at the mention of her name. She'd forever be in debt to you, and while she was young - her heart knew what was coming.

Lo'ak, Neteyam, and Kiri, follow her movements. All of them settled by you, not knowing what on earth to do but be there for their sibling.

Jake gave them all a look then, a twisted confirmation - an ending to your chapter. This wound was lethal, and you were suffering.

They told me all of my cages were mental.

Neytiri and Jake had never felt such utter distraught until today's events. Sure their kids were mischievous, always finding themselves up to no good. But they thought they had this handled, each battle they've gone into - they've lost some...not all.

Yet this felt too cruel, too world-altering and crumbling. Their child, is so frail and withering.

You and Neteyam were their mighty tsamsiyu's. Never did they want to have to see you go like this. Not when you had so much ahead yet to experience and live through.

They knew you were going through your own external crisis, and now more than ever - your parents wished they'd been more of a lending hand.

So caught up in raids, so caught up in making a stand - protecting their people. That their daughter had swept herself under a mat right before their eyes.

Her cages were going to finally win today, how ironic.

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

As the eldest Sully daughter, you were more than self-aware of the baggage that came with who you'd become. The mantle to live upon and make yourself a dazzling star to gain the approval of your people.

You won over the people, and their hearts and souls. Strong in their eyes, almost the exact replica of Neytiri.

A healer apprentice under Mo'at, yet still going hunting with your father and brothers. There was a balance you'd manage to create that aided in you spreading out all the help and effort you could give.

But spreading yourself out so thinly can only last for so long.

Fell behind on my classmates, and I ended up here.

Even if you were the eldest though, you knew Neteyam was the one to become Olo'eyktan. It was what your Tsahik wanted, after all, Eywa had spoken it to her after Neteyam successfully finished his Iknimaya.

The tasks that filled up every inch of your day began to dwindle, and the people's hearts swayed to another. Your own brother, yet you didn't blame him for it.

For now, he to had to bare the weight that comes with a treacherous amount of responsibilities. The weight that comes with being named the future Olo'ekytan of your clan.

Therefore your uselessness began to amount...to nothing. Your father began to pour his efforts and lessons into Neteyam, who before used to just be a bystander - it was his turn to be molded.

Sure, you still were a daughter of the infamous yet famous Sully's, but the desire to be more than that no longer was set aflame.

Pouring out my heart to a stranger.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, - I just wanted to live up to you both. I wanted to be better, I just wanted to protect our family." She whispered, voice growing fainter as time ticked by.

"That's not on you to do!" Jake wept then, infuriated at the circumstances. It should have been him who suffered at the hands of the sky people, it was him they wanted anyway.

"At that moment - it felt like it, sempul." She insisted, her weak hand grasping his own that hovered over the knife still embedded in her.

"Leave it, I'm going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

A sharp gasp leaves his lips, before forcing them closed. His head shakes, shoulders quaking as he tries to muffle his cries.

Neytiri lets her hand rest on his shuddering shoulder as she leans down to press a feather-like kiss yet filled with so much purpose to your forehead.

She tries to explain.

"What your sempul is trying to say, is that it should be us who had been there. Not hiding in the dark, by your side."

At least, I'm trying.

A broken scoff escaped you then, "Can you just say thank you? I'm trying, I tried. I just wanted to show you guys I still had it in me. I wanted to save my little sister. I wanted to be of use, I wanted to help."

Neytiri doesn't care for the tears that cascade down her face, instead thumbing her daughter's ones away instead.

"I knew you always had it in you, baby girl. I'm sorry if it seemed like I ever stopped. I'm so sorry." Jake's voice wavers, cracks, a tear of his dropping onto your cheek - masked by your own that moves like a silent ship.

He was determined then, your efforts would not go down in vain.

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound.

A smile graced her face then, one of acceptance. The clock was going to halt soon and she hopes that her intentions did not come off as something vengeful and selfish. But from a place of genuine protection and vigilance.

One fleeting look at them gave her great comfort though, they knew.

She etched the faces of her family into her heart then, even if they looked like they were in as much pain as you currently were. You wanted them to be the last thing you'd see.

The pain numbed then, the cries of anguish from the people that love her the most in this unsure world - muted.

The one thing that never faltered was the tight grasp of your father's hand that held onto your own, a gentle reminder that he was there as his thumb rubbed a soothing motion on the back of your hand.

Right by her your mother caressed your hair, occasionally leaning down to press another kiss to your head. Her cries oddly quieting, instead, revenge began to paint scenarios in her mind. All while she reminisced of everything you had been and what you were becoming.

"We're here, Tsmuke." Neteyam whispered, Kiri and Lo'ak chime in with a wavering hum of unfortunate understanding.

Hidden between the lines of such a simple statement, it's alright - you can let go and rest now.

Her heart stills then.

I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @pandorainmymind @eywas-heir @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn @scarlettwitch-4 @23victoria @avidreader3107 @theycallmesia @mazemymirror @tsireyasgf @nijirozzz @useryourbut @yua-himari @sweetheartlizzie07 @grierpilots @reneehillary69 @fruitsalad1 @forasgaard @iwaslikeblah @dumb-fawkin-bitch @theicemav @narutoboi @hai-kbai @goosemothersblog @audigay @cyberfreaky @worldofmunson @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @wwwellacom @starl1g4t

[ckret2]

Chapter 32 of human Bill is convinced he's the best prisoner ever and does not deserve this abuse from the Pines:

Bill gets his fingernails painted! 💅🌈✨ Look at his fingernails, I drew this week's picture just to show them off. They're fun.

Bill also gets bound to a magic poppet that can control his every move.

It's hilarious for Dipper and Mabel, but not for Bill.

The early morning still was broken by Stan's wails of despair.

At some point during the night, the egg-and-toilet-papering kids had come back to Stan's car.

And they'd brought rocks.

####

Bill woke up with a sheet tossed over him and a cupcake sitting on the window seat. The cupcake was pink with green frosting and decorated like a happy jack-o'-melon. It was sitting on top of a note:

"Sorry I didn't mention I had plans tonight! Robbie's mom made cupcakes for everyone so I grabbed you one. The music video's gonna be AMAZING! I'll show you when Robbie posts it!" Mabel had signed with a shooting star.

Bill decided he hadn't been mad at Mabel last night at all.

He battled gravity to heave himself vertical, trudged downstairs to the bathroom, stuck his face under the faucet until his mouth tasted less like sour sandpaper, agonizingly dragged himself back upstairs to his makeshift bed, and collapsed under the sheet to wait until his head stopped hammering.

####

Sprawled on the living room floor, Mabel said, "What should I draw?"

"Draw me." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching the news and nursing a glass of Mabel juice. In an effort to counteract the lingering queasiness from overdosing on sugar and chocolate, he'd spiked the juice with two ground-up Elderly 60+ Vitaman™ brand Man Vitamins (khaki flavor) stolen from a bottle that Ford had bought for Stan and that Stan forgot to take.

"Okay!" Mabel turned around and squinted up at Bill. "Strike a pose!"

"Not like this!" Bill shoved a hand in Mabel's face to force her to stop looking. "Draw me how I really look."

"Bill, that's illegal. Remember?" Mabel pointed at the TV. Bodacious T was reporting on a child who'd dressed up for Summerween as "that weird out-of-towner who bothered us last year, you know the one," and who, under the Never Mind All That Act, had been fined fifty pieces of candy. The child's mugshot showed his crying face, but blurred out his yellow costume.

"He'd be the coolest kid in town," Bill said, "if he wasn't such a crybaby in front of the cops. Draw me anyway."

"I don't wanna get arrested!"

"Do you see any cops?" Bill grinned. "Just don't sign your name, nobody will know it was you."

Mabel considered that. "I can sign it someone else's name." She pulled out a few crayons.

"That's what I'm talking about! Do anything you want forever and frame the innocent!"

"What do you want me to draw you doing?"

"The coolest thing you can think of."

Mabel considered that, and got to work.

The news was boring now. They were talking about the weather, and it wasn't even interesting weather. "So hey, you were gonna tell me about filming last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel said. "Did I mention the part where the dead rose from their graves?"

Bill muted the TV. "And I missed it?"

Robbie had decided the cemetery at his place would be more atmospheric than the trick-or-treater-filled streets (and less likely to have their shots ruined by passersby that didn't appreciate the depth of Robbie's lyrics). It went great, until the vibrations of angsty rock-and-roll stirred the slumbering corpses and they clawed their way from their graves. It turned out Gravity Falls had been having off-and-on invasions of the undead for the past year, ever since somebody decided to reanimate every corpse in town for fun, Bill.

"You can't prove it was me, I'm not the only one who knows how to raise the dead!" Bill laughed. "Hey—you're not drawing this body, are you? You said you wouldn't."

"I'm not, I promise!"

"Then why do you keep staring at me?"

"Um."

"Let me see!"

"No! Don't ruin the surprise!" Mabel picked up a glitter pen with feathers glued to the end and waved them in Bill's face. "And no cheating with your eye-bleeding psychic magic!"

Bill smacked the pen away. "Fine! So what did you do with the zombies? Feed one of the teens to them?"

"No! I chewed like four packs of gum me and Dipper got from the weird homeless dentist and made a fake baby brain. We used it as bait to lead them into an open grave," Mabel said. "And then we realized we could use the brain to train them to do tricks! So now we have dancing zombies in the music video. They actually learned the choreography pretty easily."

"Makes sense," Bill said. "I did fill the space where their souls should be with an insatiable hunger to party."

Mabel grinned. "I thought you said they weren't your fault."

"If they're good at dancing, I'm taking credit!"

"They were pretty good—especially considering how many limbs they were missing," Mabel said. "I'll show you when Robbie's finished editing the video."

"And I'll get to see you playing a creepy ghost kid, right?"

"Yeah! We were the greatest ghosts ever! Check it out, we were like—" Mabel fixed Bill with a dead-eyed slack-jawed stare and whisper-sang, "'We're the things that you have lost. Childhood joy, dead as a ghost.'"

"Chills."

"Dipper tried so hard to get in character as a ghost that he completely zoned out for a minute! When we shook him out of it, he said he felt like he had an out-of-body experience!"

####

At his computer, Robbie clicked play on a clip of the twins standing side-by-side in front of the cemetery gate. As they sang the chorus, Dipper's face went still; and then a spectral gray form rose out of his head, still singing in sync with Mabel.

"Whoa," Robbie said. "Sick. I'm keeping that in."

####

"So, it turns out my bro is an expert method actor," Mabel boasted.

Bill thought back to Dipper drifting up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. "Yep. Sounds like he's got quite a talent."

Mabel set down her crayons and held out a paper. "Okay—what do you think?"

Bill accepted the drawing. "Am I riding on the back of a rocket ship?"

"Like a bucking bronco! See the rocket flames doing a loop?"

"Sure do. Why am I holding a fish bowl?"

"It's like a cowboy waving his hat, but, you're in space. So that's your astronaut helmet."

"It's beautiful," Bill said intensely. "It's the best thing I've ever seen."

"Aw, really? Thanks!"

"When I take over the universe, I'm rearranging the constellations to look like this."

"Don't do that, though."

"Fine, but I'm hanging it up in my throne room." Bill set down his empty glass so he could hold the picture with both hands, beaming at it as proudly as though he'd made it himself. Big change from his lukewarm reception of her house drawing yesterday. She should draw Bill more often. Being a good artist meant understanding what your audience wanted.

Unfortunately, now that she'd finished her drawing, she didn't have anything to distract her from staring at Bill. And she'd taken about as much of seeing him as she could stand. "Bill. I say this with non-judgmental love. But you look sooo terrible."

"Yeah, I know. I think I'm shaped about as nicely as a human could ask for," he pantomimed drawing a triangle in front of his torso, "but let's be real, there's only so much you can do when you're working with a human bone structure. And there's way too much neck—"

"No! Bill, your body is beautiful just the way it is, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I meant your hair looks awful."

Bill had taken a shower yesterday morning, emerged with his hair all wet and tangled, and done absolutely nothing to detangle it. And then, with it still half damp and totally disheveled, he'd shoved it under a cheap acrylic wig for the rest of the night. And then he'd fallen asleep on the floor still wearing the wig.

And now, with the wig removed, his hair looked like a bird had plucked out half a scarecrow's straw brains and made a nest out of it.

"It sure does," Bill said, with the slightly forlorn air of someone complaining about a war in a far-off country over which one had no power.

"So brush it!"

"No. Never. You can't make me."

"Why not? I thought you wanted to keep your hair all triangly!"

"Not enough to touch it. Either it'll figure out how to straighten out on its own or it won't, I'm not messing with it. I've got enough going on in my life today." By which he meant he had the last lingering traces of a hangover, which was a valid excuse to get out of all social, moral, and aesthetic obligations.

Mabel groaned in frustration. "I can't take looking at it anymore! If you won't brush it, can I?"

Bill gave her a skeptical look; but then he flung his hands out dismissively. "Sure, why not? If it bothers you so much. Have at it."

"I'll be right back!"

She got her brush from upstairs and a spray bottle from the kitchen, and directed Bill to sit on the floor so she could get on the couch behind him. After making such a fuss about brushing his hair, Bill was surprisingly well-behaved with somebody else brushing it for him. He didn't even complain when Mabel accidentally yanked on some nasty snarls a little harder than she meant to.

"I feel like a corpse getting prettied up for my funeral," Bill said. "Grooming each other is how humans bond, isn't it? This is one of your little social rituals? If all you wanted was to make sure we're still friends after you ditched me last night, you could have just asked."

Mabel shoved her foot between Bill's shoulder blades. Wise guy. She joked, "Yeah! We're bonding now! After this we're gonna paint each other's fingernails and talk about what kind of boys we like."

"I want rainbow spiral fingernails."

Mabel really should be used to this—but she still kept getting surprised that Bill was interested in the stuff she liked. And not even in a patronizing sure-I'll-play-along way. He'd turned to look at her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He really wanted rainbow spiral fingernails.

And now she wanted rainbow spiral fingernails, too. "Fine! But look forward until I finish your hair." One way or another, Mabel vowed, she would reform Bill into a proper good guy—even if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Fun dress-up partners were hard to find, and she couldn't afford to lose Bill.

####

Soos wandered to the living room to find somewhere to hang up his and Melody's "Best Couple Cosplay" award, but stopped in the doorway.

Bill, Mabel, and Waddles were sitting on the floor, watching some kind of cartoon psychedelic fairy princess lecture a spider on the importance of colors, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Bill and Mabel both had bright multicolor fingernails and were eating the popcorn with chopsticks to avoid touching their nails. There was more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl. Waddles had taken no such cares to avoid dragging his freshly painted hooves through the carpet. 

"Truth or dare," Bill said.

"Dare!"

"Dare you to assassinate the..." Bill trailed off. "I can't have the mayor assassinated, he runs Rainbow Club. And the sheriff and deputy invited me... There aren't a lot of public officials in this dumb town, are there?"

"I'm not killing anybody, Bill. Truth."

"Fine, coward. What's your favorite toxic fume fragrance?"

"That's easy! Gasoline!"

"Hey, mine too! At least on this planet. It smells like—you know that smell that heralds the coming of rain? Gasoline is the smell that heralds a really fun time."

"Yeah! Like going on a road trip!"

Bill paused. "Right! I was... I was definitely thinking about road trips. That's exactly what I meant."

Mabel added, "And it looks so cool when there's a little bit spilled in a parking spot—"

"The rainbow puddles! Yes! Big fan of the rainbow puddles—"

"I love parking lot rainbow puddles! It's like surprise happiness in the most boring place on the planet!"

Soos mumbled, "Girl talk," decided to hang his award up later, and left.

####

Dipper heard the bedroom door open and Mabel call, "Hey Dipper!"

"Hey." He didn't look up from his journal, where he was documenting last night's zombie adventures. "Oh, hey, bad news—Wendy said she got a text from Robbie, it sounds like all the footage from the cemetery last night is ruined?"

"Aww! What? But we worked so hard to train those zombies!"

"Yeah, it's just static. But everything we shot outside the gates is fine. I wonder if it's something supernatural that interferes with electronics?"

"Something supernatural? In the cemetery? Full of zombies? What are the odds of that!" Mabel laughed. "But heyyy, I've got some good news!"

"What?"

Mabel stuck a hairbrush full of gold hair between Dipper's face and his journal. "I got a replacement for the Bill hair sample we gave Pacifica!" She grinned and whispered, "Wanna make a poppet?"

####

It would have been really cool if the first full moon of summer vacation had come on Summerween. But the calendar gods were unkind that year, and instead, it came the next day, on June 23.

Which worked out, in the end, since it meant they didn't have any scheduling conflicts on the one night they could make a poppet.

They had the ritual space set up in their bedroom—a chalk star drawn on the floor with a black candle at each point—and the doll representing Bill—which Mabel had upgraded with button eyes and a miniature version of his favorite knit hoodie. They collected all the shed blonde strands off Mabel's hairbrush, wrapped them around the doll's neck, and tied them on. They set the doll in the center of the star; Bartholomew talked them through the ritual; the flames on the candles leaped a foot in the air, turned a pale blue, and then went out; and the binding ritual was complete. The doll was now connected to Bill Cipher.

"Weird," Bartholomew said. "Usually the flames turn black. I've never seen them turn blue before."

Dipper said, "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, no. I've just never used the binding ritual on an alien before! I guess it works a little different!"

Dipper picked up the doll and eyed it skeptically. "Mabel, I know we said we're saving this for emergencies only, but—maybe we should test it out just to make sure it actually works?"

"I guess we should," Mabel said, grimacing. "Just—don't do anything that'd hurt him. Okay?"

Yeah, Dipper should've expected that. Whether he liked it or not, Mabel didn't just see Bill as her weird experiment in criminal rehabilitation—she saw him as her friend. He sighed. "Okay. But is it fine if we do something that would embarrass him?"

Mabel shrugged. "I don't see why not!"

####

As they crept from their room, Mabel whispered, "What if we stick him in a box and shake it up? And then tell him there was an earthquake!"

"I thought you were the one who didn't want to hurt him."

"Oh right."

Bill wasn't on his cushions under the window, so they crept downstairs. Halfway down, Dipper stopped, putting a hand on Mabel's arm. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, staring out the window.

"This is perfect," he whispered. "He's completely vulnerable. He's got his back to us, he's looking at the moonlight—even if he turns around, he won't see us because his eyes will have to readjust to the dark."

"I don't know if his eyes need to adjust," Mabel said. "Have you ever noticed he never turns the lights on when he goes into a room?"

Dipper considered that. He hadn't noticed—but now that Mabel mentioned it, Bill did have a tendency to lurk in the dark. "Well—okay, but he's still not looking at us. Let's see how this works..." He studied the doll; then turned it around and gently brushed a finger through its yarn hair.

For a moment, nothing happened; and then Bill swatted at the back of his head and looked around, as if he was trying to find what had touched him.

"I think it's working," Dipper hissed.

"Are you sure? What if there's actually a fly in the kitchen?"

Could be. "Let me see if it can control him."

"Careful—"

Dipper grabbed one of the doll's arms and tentatively lifted it.

Bill's arm shot up. He stared at it in bafflement. "Wh...?"

Mabel bit her lip. Dipper waved the doll's arm.

Bill's arm waved. After a pause, he tentatively asked, "Hello?" As if he thought maybe his arm was waving at someone and he should play along with it.

Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their mouths, fighting to keep their giggles quiet. Mabel elbowed Dipper, "Hey Dipper Dipper Dipper, get him to stand up, let me control his legs, I have the best idea—"

Bill knocked over his chair and had to flail his arms for balance as he abruptly jerked to his feet. He looked around, eyes wide and wild, an edge of panic to his voice as he hollered, "WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Dipper held the doll out to Mabel. "Okay hurry!" Mabel took it by the legs—

—and Bill started doing the cancan. He shrieked. "WHAT?!"

Dipper shoved his shirt over his mouth to muffle his hysterics. Mabel was letting little wheezy squeaks out through her nose. Bill's voice was almost an octave higher as he screamed, "WHEN I FIND OUT WHO'S BEHIND THIS, I'M GONNA SHRED YOU—" and they both got so close to bursting laughing out loud that they had to pause to punch each other's shoulders for self control.

Still holding one of the doll's legs up, Mabel hissed, "Dipper do you remember the bottle dance. Where they crouch down with bottles on their heads. Can we—can we get a tiny bottle for the doll—"

Bill was failing both arms to avoid falling with one foot held in the air. He grabbed the counter for balance. And then, with a grunt of effort, he wrenched his foot down and stomped it to the ground.

The doll's leg yanked out of Mabel's hand.

Dipper and Mabel fell silent, staring at the doll. They looked at each other. Mabel whispered, "It shouldn't be able to do that, right?"

They looked at Bill.

Bill's face was burning red, and he was so far past fury that his expression was perfectly blank. His eyes were huge, and round, and pointed straight at them.

They bolted up the stairs.

Bill charged after them.

They screamed in terror. They weren't loud enough to drown out Bill: "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BRATS—"

Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm. "Dipper, do something!"

"Uhh—!" He tossed the doll in the air and caught it.

They heard an alarmed yelp as Bill was launched in the air and then a crash as he landed on the stairs again.

They scrambled into their room and slammed the door. "Safe!" Mabel said.

"Yeah," Dipper said, panting for breath. "Can't get us here."

The doll's head twisted 180 degrees to stare up at them.

They yelped. Dipper tossed the doll to Mabel. Mabel held it out at arm's length, threw it in her nightstand's drawer, and slammed it. It tried to open again and she leaned against it with her full body weight. "Dipper, the duct tape! In my craft supplies!"

"Which craft supplies?!"

The tiny knocking inside the drawer was echoed by the pounding at the door, accompanied by a string of creative death threats: "—and when I'm finished the coroner won't know which corpse was which! I'll make a belt out of your spinal columns—!"

"We didn't do anything," Mabel shouted, "it wasn't our fault!" She took the duct tape from Dipper and frantically wrapped it around the night stand. Dipper added, "It was someone else! And we'll never do it again—"

Sleepy and muffled, Soos's voice drifted through the door, "Dudes? What's all the hubbub?"

Dipper and Mabel gasped, "Soos!" "Save us!"

His voice the perfect tone of righteous indignation, Bill declared, "I'm being assaulted, that's what!"

Stan's voice joined in from downstairs: "BILL! If you don't leave those kids alone I'll cave your nose in!"

"THEY'RE THE AGGRESSORS," Bill screamed, half hysterical. "They are! I'm the victim here! I'm being victimized!"

Stan shouted, "Kids, good work! Bill, you can go to—" He grumbled as he self-censored, "—sleep! Shut up and go to sleep!"

"You can go jump in the bottomless pit, Stanley Pines! I'll tear you all apart with my teeth if I have to! NOBODY in this stupid junk heap of a shack is getting any sleep until I get my—"

From just outside the attic door, Stan roared, "BILL!"

There was a dull thud as Bill leaned against their door; a lot less shouty, he quickly said, "I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed."

"That's what I thought," Stan snapped. The kids heard his footsteps retreating downstairs. Soos said, "Um... night," and his door shut. After a moment, there was the creak of footsteps retreating from the attic door.

Dipper and Mabel slowly, softly snuck across the room to the door, and pressed their ears to the crack. No sound.

They stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, listening to the silence.

Finally, Mabel pulled away and looked at Dipper. They both nodded, and Dipper opened the door a crack to check if the coast was clear.

Bill's eye stared in. "Hey, kids!"

They yelled. Dipper tried to slam the door; but Bill had already shoved his hand through. Fingernails painted with neon colors and black spirals clawed at the doorframe. He shouldered through the gap in the door, and then he was in the room, smiling much too wide and eyes fixed on them like helicopter spotlights on two wanted criminals. There was blood on his teeth. "Wow! Playing with poppets?"

Dipper upturned his suitcase and held it up like a shield. Mabel pointed a can of spray paint at Bill's face. Bill took a step closer and they took a step back.

"Pretty advanced trick for a couple of children your age," Bill said conversationally. "Not bad, not bad at all. Heck, I'm impressed you pulled it off! Although you didn't make a very smart choice of test subject." He stomped a foot twice.

Something in the nightstand thudded twice. The twins jumped. Bill laughed at them.

Mentally cursing himself for having flinched, Dipper straightened his back and glared at Bill. "You're just mad you got jerked around like a puppet! What's the matter, Bill—you can dish it but you can't take it?" Mabel looked at Dipper like he was crazy.

Bill's indulgent smile cracked, dropping into a snarl of rage. He shifted his weight toward them. Mabel dropped into a judo stance and Dipper sucked in a breath to shout for Stan.

Before anyone could launch a full attack, Mabel took a shaky breath in, forced a nervous smile, and said, "Bill, hey..." (His eyes snapped to her face like a predator that just heard a twig snap.) "This was—just a funny prank, and we're all cool? Right?"

"Mabel," Dipper muttered. "Shhh!"

But Mabel kept looking at Bill. "Right? Buddies?" She held up her arm, showing Bill her friendship bracelet.

Bill stopped and rocked back on his heels. He gave Mabel a long, hard look—like he was seriously considering whether to accept the reality she was inventing. "Yeah. Real funny." Smiling through grit teeth, he said, "You know—it's been a while since I've had my energy strung between two vessels. I didn't even know what that experience felt like for a human! Very interesting. Educational. And it was nice to feel weightless again for a second. Even if the landing was a little rough." He licked the blood off his teeth. One of the teeth shifted. "So—thanks so much for spicing up a boring night. It's been a real blast. Hasn't it." He stared at them like he expected an answer—and possibly like he planned to strangle whoever answered first.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper shook his head slightly. Mabel looked Bill in the eyes again. "Yeah! Big blast. So, you're not... mad. Right? Nobody's mad!"

Bill stared her down for a moment longer; and then said, "Sure, kid! It's all fun and games!" He forced a laugh—and then another, longer one, hahhh, like he was exhaling all his rage. And just like that, he was back to normal. "I'll admit it—for a second there, you almost got me good! Not bad at all." He held out his hand insistently. "And now the game's over, so you're gonna give me that toy so I can neutralize it. Aren't you?"

Dipper bit his lip, looking past Bill toward the stairs. He could yell for Stan; there was no way Bill could kill them before reinforcements got here—

Mabel elbowed Dipper's side and whispered, "We can't keep it."

And she was right. Now that Bill knew about the doll, he'd be spending all his time plotting how to get past them to take it, and they wouldn't have a second's peace. Either he got it now, or he got it later. Bill wouldn't rest until the doll was out of their hands.

Because he was terrified of it. Why wouldn't he be?

"Yeah," Dipper sighed. "Game over."

"I'll get it." Mabel peeled just enough duct tape off the night stand to wiggle it open a crack and try to squeeze her fingers in. Bill stretched his hand toward Mabel, and the doll stretched an arm out of the drawer. Mabel flinched in surprise, but grabbed the arm and yanked the doll free.

"Ow." Bill grabbed his shoulder and rolled it gingerly. "Careful, kid, are you trying to dislocate my arm? I don't mind popping it back in, but eventually that socket's gonna wear out."

"Sorry! It was a tight squeeze." She held the doll over Dipper's suitcase shield. "Here."

Bill snatched it from her hand. "Thanks a million, star girl." He favored them both with his most nearly-charming, far-too-wide smile. "Good night, kiddos. Have sweet dreams."

"You too," Mabel said weakly.

Bill left. Dipper shut the door. He and Mabel both heaved a sigh of relief.

From the loft over the attic, Bartholomew called, "Is he gone?"

"What are you doing up there?" Mabel asked. "Barty-mew-mew the scaredy-cat."

"I'm not fighting that guy, I'm porcelain and he's crazy."

Dipper flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Welp. I'm gonna have nightmares about Bill chasing me up the stairs."

Mabel sat on her own bed. "He just wanted to terrify us. And to keep us from seeing we'd terrified him." She fingered the star beads on her friendship bracelet. "He wouldn't have hurt us, I'm sure of it."

"Wh—seriously? You don't think Bill—"

"I know! But he's changed a tiny bit! He'd hurt anyone else, but he won't hurt us," Mabel said. "Or—well, me, at least. But I think he'll leave you alone too if I'm with you!"

Dipper pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "If he'd caught us on the stairs, do you really think he wouldn't have tried to tear us apart?"

Mabel considered that; and then reluctantly admitted, "He wouldn't hurt me as long as he remembers he doesn't want to hurt me." 

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't count on him remembering when he's mad." Dipper slid under his covers and rolled over. "Barty, can you get the lights?"

"Sure, one second." All the lights and lamps in the room flickered ominously; and then, with a sinister pop, snapped off without being touched.

"Thanks, man."

Mabel didn't climb into bed. She was staring at her fingernails. She'd painted them the same colors as Bill's; but she'd used a black marker to draw spirals on his, and he'd drawn stars and sloppy tiger stripes on hers.  In the dark, the colors were all faded.

This time, just once, maybe she and Dipper were the bad guys. He might disagree—he'd actually been puppeted, maybe he saw this differently from Mabel—but that probably didn't make it okay to do it back to Bill just for fun. They should've saved the poppet for an emergency. And the cancan, she decided, was definitely too much.

She smoothed out her covers; then she pulled up her knees to her chest, hugged them, and stared thoughtfully down at Bill's face in the middle of her zodiac blanket.

####

In the dark and quiet of the downstairs bathroom, Bill sat cross-legged on the toilet lid. He held the doll in his cupped hands. Soon, he'd disassemble it—but not yet. Tonight, it was his tool. He shut his eyes and focused on it.

There was the thinnest thread of energy, channeled through his shed hair, connecting this doll to him. He studied the thread, feeling it in his mind, exploring it, strengthening it—until he could almost feel it tugging on him.

And then he started psychically groping for similar connections.

He set the doll on the floor, on top of the drawing Mabel had given him.

His other eyes—the billions of depictions of his face scattered across this planet—weren't meant to be used in this dimension. They were designed like windows he could peer through from the Nightmare Realm; here on Earth, he was on the wrong side of the windows to see through them. And he wouldn't be surprised if the Axolotl had somehow found a way to blindfold them on top of that—after all, he seemed to have done the same to most of Bill's other abilities.

But Bill was resourceful, he was stubborn, and he didn't have anything better to do.

He focused all his energy on trying to feel the drawing the same way he felt the doll, searching for a connection between this body and that face—and he searched, and searched, and searched.

He wasn't sure how long he tried. At least a couple of hours. Straining, straining—for nothing. His head hurt.

What was the difference? The doll was shaped like him, the drawing was shaped like him. What did the doll have that the drawing didn't?

The hair. A bit of his flesh.

Bill knelt over the picture, studying it in the dark. He opened an eye wide, wiped a fingertip across the surface of his eyeball to collect his tears, and pressed it to the drawing's eye.

He could feel a thread of energy stringing from his eye to the paper.

He climbed back on the toilet lid, shut his eyes, and focused on that thread. With an effort that threatened to split his head in two, he pried open his inner eye. And then he was staring up at his own human form from the drawing on the floor.

His body was shaking. His head was throbbing. He wobbled dizzily on the toilet; and as he saw himself topple off, his trance broke, the vision disappeared, and he blacked out. White spots burst behind his eyes.

When he next opened an eye, the room was spinning. He shut his eye. It was several minutes before he could sit up without being sick. He leaned against the wall and let the sweat on his forehead and cheek soak the old wallpaper.

The white spots he'd seen as he passed out were his distant all-seeing eyes. 

He'd done something tonight. That was good. But there was no way he was seeing through any other pictures like that. He needed something he could focus his power through, like an antenna.

He needed gold.

####

(Last chapter of the year!! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts & comments! Thanks!)

[idiotcurls]

IMAGINE THIS! Eddie is a musician, Steve is studying to become a teacher. Right before Steve's exams, he goes to a cafe to study. The Band arrives to play a gig and Eddie knocks over a glass of water with his guitar case.

Eddie has a up and coming band, they are playing small gigs all around the country. Even though they gathered up quite a following, they still haven't signed to any major label yet. Because they are not posers or whatever. The fans love Corroded Coffin, for the hard sounds with the clever thoughtful lyrics and also due to the fact that Eddie is a very charismatic frontman, who has the allure of an old timey rock star. Steve is sitting in the café, studying for his exams, writing frantically on his laptop, his glasses on the tip of his nose. Since he had a hard time in high school, he still thinks he is less than in the intellectual departmen, which is of course not true. And he has an amazing hand with the kids he is currently teaching, as student teacher. When Eddie and his band arrive at the venue, loud, all dressed in black leather, some instruments carried on their backs, he doesn't even look up. Steve was used to bands playing in the back of the venue. The café and bar area was only separated by a small glass door, so he was usually gone by the time, they got on the stage. But today the weather wasn't exactly on his side, he wasn't going to walk home in the pouring rain, risking a cold. It was too close to exam season. Eddie's hair was dripping wet, some of the droplets are running into his eyes. While Gareth is asking for someone to show them where to set up their stuff, Eddie ventures into the café area, to steal some napkins off a table. When he turns around to leave again, tapping over his eyes, the swing of his guitarcase knocks over a glass of water on a table behind him. Whos table you ask? Why, of course Steve Harrington's. What a terrible coincidence. Steve jumps up, shouting "FUCK" as he gathers up napkins trying to dry up the spilled water on his keypad. Startled by the cussing behind him, Eddie turns around and immediately recognises the damage he had caused. "Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry, here, I'll get you more napkins, or a towel. Gareth!! Ask the waiter if he has a towel?!" Gareth looks up from his conversation with one of the staff member and just shakes his head in an annoyed fashion. Like Munson was up to some bullshit again and he wasn't going to be part of it.

Eddie is frantically bringing more napkins to the table, furthering Steve's annoyance at him. "Please.. just fucking stop, man." He is wiping his wet hands on his blue jeans looking at the laptop mournfully. "It's already fucking ruined. Shit." Steve sighs and walks around the table, a hand over his mouth, looking at the crime scene, wondering how he could afford another laptop that fast. But that long haired idiot, who knocked over his glass kept on babbling, ignoring the fact that Steve was in the middle of a crisis. "Listen, oh my god, I'm so sorry man. I read, that you shouldn't turn in on for bit after, uh, a spillage. Maybe it will dry? Or maybe we should put some rice on it? Maybe they have rice in the kitchen. Gareth?- My friend Nancy says that is bullshit, but-" "STOP! Please just go away." Steve sounded desprate. Eddie raised his hands in defeat, still holding some Napkins. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm with the band, who plays tonight. You can message us for a refund, or repair.", he says more calmly and walks away. Steve watches the young man walk back to his band members, he assumed, at least. They all wearing the same sort of clothes. "What are you doing with all those Napkins?", Jeff asks bemused. "Just shut up, man." Steve is close to tears. All of his notes and work he already did ahead of time were on the laptop. He did not safe them anywhere else. He grabs his coat and cigarette and leaves the café to have a smoke. If anyone wants to take any of his other stuff, they were free to do so, everything was ruined anyway. He watches the band carry all their amps and instruments in, from a little distance. There was a quick glance exchanged between him and that long haired idiot. He looks like a beaten puppy with those big sad eyes. Shit, now Steve felt like an asshole. Back inside, Steve waited for a while, to turn on his laptop, like the idiot had said. Meanwhile he was texting his best friend Robin the details of the worst evening in his life. She is sympathetic and hopeful, that the gods were in favour of his laptop. And while she didn't think Steve was the villain of the play, he might have been a bit harsh. They guy with the curls didn't do it on purpose, to ruin his life. After a while Steve breaths in deeply and exhales. He presses the on button. The laptops starts. He types in his password. Loading. All of his open tabs and word documents appear. The laptop was alive. He tries to write some words and all the keys work. A sigh of relieve. The gods had mercy on his computer in the end. After thanking the universe, Steve's eyes wander to the other side of the café. Behind the glass door, the band is setting up and starting to do some sound checking with the technician.

The idiot is holding his guitar, strumming a few chords and signing the thumbs up to the tech girl, who nods, looking bored. Now he is singing along to his chords, his eyes closed, like he is feeling the music or something. Steve finds, the idiot has a very beautiful voice. And a handsome face. He sighs. With that new information the apology is going to become even harder. When the band is done soundchecking and Eddie climbs off the stage, bickering and laughing with his band mates, Steve decides to go for it. "You can do this, dingus." pops up on his phone, before he puts it back into his pocket.

When Steve walks up to Eddie, the others are still rumaging around. Before Steve can open his mouth to say a single word, Eddie raises his hand. "Let me stop you there. I talked to the guys. We have a door-deal with the venue. Depending on how much money we make, you can have some of the money to pay for the repair." Eddie chuckles. "Now we just have to pray some people show up." Steve raises his left eyebrow, listening to him. "It's not like theres no people coming to our gigs, it's just that it's raining, and it's a weekday, people are at work..." Eddie is rambling again.

"Hey, can I say something too?" Steve chimes in, stern but not unkind. "Uh, sure." Eddie answers. "My laptop is fine. Everything works. I wanted to apologize for being a dick." Steve takes down his glasses and puts them on the top of his head. "I was just very stressed. You didn't do it on purpose." Eddie looks down and smiles. He seems shy.

"I'm a bit clumsy.... yeah." Steve finds it almost funny, that a guy like him, who just confidently sang on a stage, becomes shy like that. "Well, don't worry about it. I just thought... It's fine." Eddie looks up at him. "Why dont you stay for the set? Be our guest?" Steve does not answer. "I'll put you on my bar-tab. Stay and listen. Here- have a tape." Steve looks at the tape he got handed. "I don't have anything to play this on..." "Don't worry. I'll make it worth your while. Get a drink. We start in 20 minutes." Everything in Steve says, it's better to go home. Sleep and study. But he does stay for the set, to see the charaismatic idiot in action.

and then they fall in love or something.

[moonlight-prose]

wip wednesday!

no one tagged me this week, but that's okay cause i still wanted to share what i've been working on. i'm neck deep in several winter fics to come before we say goodbye to december (hopefully next week). so here's a small snippet of my jake "hangman" seresin oneshot.

Is It New Year's Yet?

Bing Crosby crooned his rendition of I’ll Be Home for Christmas on the vintage radio, a few uncles joining in sporadically with their alcohol induced lyrics. Jake’s voice loudest among them all. It made the hair stand on your arms, chills of his offensively good voice filtering into your small bubble of safety. A breach of familiarity that stoked a fire you knew would forever burn for a man who let you down.

He used to sing this to you directly. Through shitty phone lines and pixelated video calls. He soothed the stress, the worry you felt each time his bag showed up by the front door—a pair of boots beside it. Now he offered nothing but a swift kiss of farewell with the odd letter scribbled on a piece of paper stolen from an office or two.

Tears burned on their way down your cheeks, the soft footfalls of slippers on tile lost to the echo of his voice. You jolted at the figure of his mother in your peripheral, a freshly opened bottle of wine in her hand. Wiping away the evidence of your pain became an afterthought as she offered you a smile, topping up your glass before adding to her own. You cherished the conversations with her—adding them to your memory bank with a tender hold of pride and the knowledge that she loved you like a daughter.

Tonight however you anticipated the worst—digging your teeth into a lip painted ruby red hard enough to numb the pain in your chest. She knew, she could see, yet even she couldn’t change his mind. When it came to Jake…no one could.

“My son is an idiot at the best of times,” she finally uttered with a desolate sigh. “He doesn’t know what he’s got.”

You grinned even if it felt tangled with your grief. “I don’t…I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“I know.” Another glass poured, another secret revealed. “You shouldn’t have to. Three years of nothin’ but nonsense. I ain’t gonna sugarcoat it sweetie and I can already see you know what I’m about to say. If he won’t change then do it for him.”

“But…I…”

She nodded solemnly, as if your fate had been sealed the say you met him. “You love him.”

“I do.” The whisper slipped of your tongue, the alcohol making your head fuzzy with a clarity you should have endured long ago. “I thought he wanted to marry me. To…to have a family.”

A hand weathered by the weight of keeping the Seresin family upright clasped over yours—a palm devoid of its love. “Believe me sweetie I want you in this family. If it were up to me he’d have asked you that first Christmas. But my son is a hardheaded fool sometimes. And I don’t wanna watch you lose what you want for only a chance.”

“I want him,” you admitted.

tagging: @elflutter @ohtobeleah @fluffyprettykitty @outercrasis @karasong @agirllovespancakes

[dailytogachako]

Oh! Are we talking about togachako songs? I’ve been working on a playlist…

The lyrics for “Tungs” by The Frights are very apt.

“Wet” by Dazey and the Scouts is a very Toga-coded song I say.

OKAY OKAY, I was listening to the first song you mentioned and I wasn't finding any similarities until suddenly

"i keep my love, i want my blood inside of you. do you think I'm cute?"

DAMNNN THIS IS LITERALLY THEM,,, THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT HAPPENED I'M IN SHOCK. From what I've seen, the song is from 4 years ago (I'm not sure), so so much familiarity is surprising.

"Wet" for me there are other meanings, but I can quite fit toga in there either!!

"Arms Tonite", "Sweater Weather" and "All the things she said" are songs that also remind me a lot of togachako yk?? some may not make sense but if you are delusional enough they do...and please, when you finish your playlist share it with us!!!

[inkedbydave]

MY HEADCANONS ON THE TDA CHARACTER'S MUSIC TASTE :3

Part I - Julian, Emma, Ty, Kit, Dru and Livvy

(comment if you want to see me do a part II or one with characters from TMI cuz I'm not sure I will do it by myself if no one's interested in it, i just had to get these out of my head)

Julian Blackthorn: I think Julian would gravitate toward grunge and nu-metal because of their raw emotion and intensity. He’s constantly under pressure and carries a lot of emotional weight, so bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Alice in Chains would resonate with his introspection and struggles. He’d also appreciate the angsty energy of Linkin Park and the chaotic rebellion of Sex Pistols(this one is basically canon with that one official drawing from SoBH).

Some examples: Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden, Alive by Pearl Jam, In The End by Linkin Park, No Feelings by Sex Pistols

Emma Carstairs: Emma would absolutely be into The Neighbourhood and Mitski, both of which balance emotional depth with moody, atmospheric vibes. Her complex emotions and fiery personality would also resonate with Lana Del Rey and Arctic Monkeys, blending longing with intensity. For her more energetic side, she might love Halsey or Wolf Alice, both of whom bring fierce energy and emotional vulnerability. But she also loves the heavier genres that Julian listens to, it's just that she never listens to it by herself but she absolutely sings along with Julian

Some examples: Your Best American Girl by Mitski, Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood, Ribs by Lorde, When We're High by LP

Ty Blackthorn: Okay it's canon that he likes classical music but hear me out on this one: Ty would appreciate intricate, atmospheric and melodic music that aligns with his analytical and introspective nature. In my opinion he would absolutely love bands like Radiohead, Modern Baseball and The Front bottoms. Probably Sufjan Steven and Elliott Smith too. On darker days maybe something like Nine Inch Nails (I'm sorry about this one, but i can honestly imagine that and I won't elaborate) Dare of me to say that but he would probably grow to love midwest emo and indie rock after Kit introduces him to more genres.

Some examples: Hurt by Nine Inch Nails, No Surprises by Radiohead, Be Nice to Me by The Front Bottoms, Say Yes by Elliot Smith

Kit Herondale: I think he is into all kinds of music. But i just know he is a HUGE Troye Sivan stan (his absolute faves are "Bloom" and "Angel Baby" and "FOOLS" would be his anthem probably). So from gay pop and Taylor Swift to classic rock like Fleetwood Mac or Queen basically anything. He’d love emotional, atmospheric tracks from artists like Frank Ocean, Phoebe Bridgers, and SZA, alongside high-energy hits from Dua Lipa or The Weeknd. He’d even dip into lo-fi hip-hop or experimental indie on his more introspective days. Also it was him who introduced Ty to Radiohead and American Football and there was no stopping the other boy from there.

Some examples: White Ferrari by Frank Ocean, Somebody Else by The 1975, Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift, Starboy by the Weeknd

Livvy Blackthorn: She's such a pop girly. I just know Livvy would definitely vibe with Taylor Swift, especially her more storytelling-focused and emotional eras like Red and Folklore. She’d also adore pop artists like Chappell Roan and Lorde for their relatable and heartfelt lyrics. Livvy’s love of life (i'm not crying, you're crying) and curiosity about the world would make her lean toward empowering and introspective pop.

Some examples: Never Really Over by Katy Perry, My Kink Is Karma by Chappell Roan, Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summers, Colors by Halsey

Dru Blackthorn: Dru would fully embrace goth and emo subcultures. She’d be obsessed with Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Birthday Massacre, and maybe some newer acts like Pale Waves. Probably also bands like My Chemical Romance or Evanescence. For her horror-loving side, industrial metal like Rammstein or Marilyn Manson would appeal to her aesthetic.

Some examples: Spellbound by Siouxise and the Banshees, Cry Little Sister by Gerard McMahon, Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division, Dead Can Dance by The Host of Seraphim, Helena by My Chemical Romance

pls hype me up i went way out of my comfort zone to make this, i never ever listen to pop music or music outside my comfort genres which are grunge, goth, punk and emo (it probably shows *sigh*) and i had to listen to rap, industrial, pop and anything else you can imagine for DAYS to have a general idea on the most popular artists in that field.

On the bright side i discovered that i actually vibe with Troye Sivan's older music, it speaks to my love sick gay little soul

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

Hold my hand, I'm nervous.

Minho likes spending time with you and discovering new aspects of this friendship.

Friendship, Mutual Pining, Domestic Fluff, Nervousness, Comfort, Concert, Protectiveness, Holding Hands, Cold Weather, Clumsiness, Cooking together, Napping, Nightmare, First Sleepover, Platonic Cuddling

⚠️: Body Shaming (by stranger) indicated, Fear of Crowds indicated

wc: 3966

'Hold my hand, I'm nervous.'

He wasn't nervous, not at all, but you know, sometimes he was convinced that lying was completely okay as long as it didn't harm anyone. Besides, he was sure you knew when he was telling the truth and when he wasn't anyway. That's something he loved so much, the comfortability in the friendship with you that caused him to be able to goof off and bullshit around as much as he wanted to.

'You're on a chair not a mountain.', you stated and rolled your eyes in annoyance. The concert was about to start and the fact that you arrived too late to get good spots made you already regret going out this evening.

'Still.', Minho insisted and waved his hand in front of your face until you took it to make him stop.

'Man, that's gonna be one awesome show. I've always wanted to see them live, you know.', he smiled and looked over the mass of people, excitement shimmering in his eyes.

'I know.', you grumbled and remembered why you went out, why you were out in the cold surrounded by people, many drunk, some probably on other drugs, holding his hand even though it was completely unnecessary. Him playing his 'fear of heights'- card was so pretentious that you were almost amused by his preference of saying anything but directly what he wants. Involuntarily, you shook your head and couldn't keep yourself from smiling despite your bad mood. It was silly anyways, especially when Minho was right next to you having the time of his life. His happiness was simply contagious after some time.

Was he able to not look down at you and smile? No, not at all. Did he feel like an idiot, standing on a chair to see the stage, yet having his eyes only on you? Yes, for sure. But it didn't surprise him. He stepped down, tightened his grip on your hand while he did, because he was actually worried that he might lose balance for a second. Once he was stable on the ground, he pretended like he would actually fall and not even he would have expected your reaction of pulling him into your arms immediately.

'I was joking.', he clarified with an embarrassed blush that crept over his cheeks up to his ears. He was pushed away harshly, but your low mumbling, the only word he could comprehend was 'idiot', made him smirk.

'Aaaaw, you thought I was actually falling?', he teased and caressed your cheek, his fingers light and warm on your skin. 'Thank you for always being my saviour, babe.'

'Don't touch my face with your unwashed hands.', you grunted and pushed his arm away.

'So, I wash my hands and can touch you?', he asked, eyes widened in excitement.

'No. Never.', you answered monotonously and crossed your arms in front of you. 'Why did you come down? I thought you wanted to see the stage properly.'

'Want to stand next to you, but you can still hold my hand when you miss it.', he explained without looking at you.

When the concert started he was jumping and dancing, singing along the lyrics and laughed from happiness. The crowd was hyped and even you began to show that you were having fun, actually recognizing a few songs that Minho must have shown you before.

A man next to you kept glancing at you from time to time and you thought it was because you probably looked weird in some sense. You kept wondering if it was your hair or your outfit or your makeup. Every bit of your appearance could have been a reason for someone to express their dislike for it, but in the end no one cares about stuff like this, so you tried your best to ignore his temporary stares and convince yourself that he must have had reasons that weren't under your influence.

'This was awesome. Thank you for coming with me.', Minho laughed after the last song was performed and the band left the stage after several rounds of applause. He took your hand and secured you close to him when everyone became busy leaving the hall.

'Can't lose you.', he said and squeezed your hand, inaudibly assuring you that he was planning on keeping you safe with him.

Many people passed by including the man that kept paying attention to you before Minho decided to leave as well. He saw him, he hated him. Not that he knew him, but the way he kept looking at you and turning to his friend to laugh and joke immediately after scanning you, was enough for him to have an opinion. Minho needed to see him walking away.

'Soooooo, should I bring you home or are you up for chilling at mine?', Minho asked during the walk through the streets, enjoying the fresh air after the concert, his hand still holding yours while playfully swaying them back and forth between your bodies.

'Yours?', you asked happily and he responded, 'Mine?!', sounding just as bright and happy and started laughing.

The fresh air slowly became uncomfortable and Minho started to worry that he might catch a cold. You probably felt the same. Unaware of what he was doing, he pulled you closer to him and immediately heard your teeth clashing against eachother in a fast pace.

'You're an idiot for not bringing a jacket.', he announced and laid his arm around your shoulder.

'You brought me with you. Isn't your task to take care of me then?', you questioned and sneaked your arm around his waist, seeking his warmth, wishing you could just stop walking and push your face in the softness of his shirt.

'No? Since when do you rely on people?', he laughed, but secretly wished he would have been more considered. He would have brought a scarf, a jacket, a whole heater if he'd known you wanted that.

'I don't.', you clarified and took a step away from him, his arm falling off your shoulder.

'Well, I didn't bring a jacket either. That makes two idiots here, hm?, he smiled and pulled you back into his embrace, ignoring your protest.

The apartment complex was soon arrived and Minho held the door open, waiting for you to enter first. He gave you the keys to his apartment and nodded upwards. 'I have to get something from the basement, but go and make yourself comfortable already.'

He heard your steps on the stairs echoing from the empty walls and hurried downstairs to get a pile of his old clothes that he picked up from his parents' house a few days ago. He didn't have any use for them, but thought that you might like them.

When he arrived at his apartment door, he was surprised to find you still standing there, fondling with the keys. Your hands were red and stiff and you visibly struggled to pick the right key, dropping the whole chain clumsily.

'Fuck.', you mumbled and picked them up.

'Let's swap.', Minho announced behind you and gave you the pile while you handed him the key chain. He was even more worried now that you must have been freezing more than he did, so the second he entered the apartment, he went straight to his bedroom and carried the thick blanket to you.

'You go and get cozy in the living room.', he demanded and waited for you to take off your shoes before he pushed you in the direction he wanted you to head to, taking the pile of clothes from you at the same time.

Once he was done washing his hands and grabbing two bottles of water, he followed you, sat down on the floor in front of the sofa where you were curled up into a cocoon, the bottles placed on the small desk. His heart started beating so strongly that he could feel it in his throat. He could just move one meter forward and collect you in his arms, all cozy and close. Just one question, just one agreement and a few moves...

'I need to pee.', you announced, freed yourself from the blanket and went to the bathroom.

It was also just one moment, Minho realised.

The evening proceeded to be just as lacking of conversations as the whole day had already been. You didn't talk much on the way to the concert, the concert itself is no event that provides many talking possibilities and afterwards you two were busy processing all new impressions. Now you spent your time watching dramas, you spread on the sofa and Minho chilling on the floor, head resting on an empty spot of the sofa cushion.

His stomach grumbled and without saying a word he made his way to the kitchen area to cook something. He kept glancing over to you from time to time and the later it got the more he wondered if you would be up for sleeping here. He would like that a lot, he realized and began humming happily when he started imagining how your sheer presence might influence the atmosphere in his apartment.

Suddenly, when he turned to grab a spice on his left, he saw you standing next to him. When did you get up? How long was he actually daydreaming? In panic, he stirred the vegetables in the pan, scared he might have let them burn.

'Can I help with something?', you asked and he was caught off guard by the tiredness in your voice.

'Did you fall asleep?', he asked, genuinely curious, but his voice didn't cooperate and his tone made it sound like he was mocking you.

'Yeah.', you whispered dreamily and sighed.

You seemed happy. He wondered why.

'Good nap?', he questioned and filled some rice in two bowls that were already waiting, while he was working on the greens.

'Hmhmm. Can I help?', you repeated and Minho quickly shook his head, before he could think of verbalizing anything.

'I'll wash the dishes later then.', you shrugged. You didn't move. He found it almost awkward how you were standing in the middle of the room, not initiating of going back to the TV.

'May I smell yo-your shirt?', you whispered, and he dropped the spoon in surprise.

It landed in the pan, and he awkwardly fished it out of the sauce. He carefully laid it down and wiped his hand on a small kitchen towel.

'What?', he finally asked, baffled.

'It's just, your blanket. Like, I want to know if it's the smell of your laundry detergent or you.', you explained, fumbling with the hem of your own shirt.

'The smell?', he didn't understand.

'If the smell comes from the detergent, you need to tell me which brand and scent you're using. I swear, I haven't slept this well for months.', you spoke and started stirring the inside of the pan while Minho kept looking at you in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

After your explanation, he smirked. This was way too funny and if he was honest, way too good to be true to him.

'And what if it's my scent?', he asked confidently, taking the spoon out of your hand.

'Then, ahm, I guess, I, I will cherish this wonderful nap I got to take here?', you spoke slowly, sounding like you were unsure if what you should be saying, like you didn't even think this far.

'Go on, I'm all yours to smell.', he consented and put the pan to the side, deactivated the heat and turned towards you, arms spread to his side, him fully presenting you to himself with his eyes closed, because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle looking at you when you'd approach him with the intention of absorbing something as personal as his scent.

'I could also just smell the detergent.', you clarified and reached around him to take the pan, starting to fill the bowls with vegetables and sauce.

Yes, Minho was disappointed. Not in you, he would never be disappointed just because you didn't do something you didn't want to. He was disappointed in the whole situation and especially in himself, for not being genuine with you. If he were, he would have told you right away that the scene's origin didn't matter, that you could always take a nap here whenever you wanted, because he really liked having you here, giving you everything you'd possibly ask for.

'I'll show you later. Let's eat now.', he suggested and let you carry the bowl to the sofa, following you like a sad puppy that lost its favorite treat.

Other than you said, you didn't take care of the dishes alone. Minho was right by your side. He paused the drama you were watching and turned on music, grooving lazily while washing and tidying up. He caught you covering your mouth due to yawns several times and finally ask nonchalantly, 'You're staying here this night, right?'

'I would love to if it's okay for you.'

He smiled. His was sure his ears got all red, because he felt his body warming up comfortably.

After being done with mundane chores, you returned to the loving room, realizing that it was already 1am. Minho, sitting on the sofa, settled back and sighed. It was a great day. He was absolutely happy.

'Was it alright that I dragged you with me to the concert? I know it's not something you originally enjoy, but I'm very happy that you were with me.', Minho spoke lowly, eyes closed, feeling the exhaustion in his body.

'I actually ended up having fun. Maybe your taste in music isn't that bad after all.'

'Didn't know you had doubts. My taste in everything is out of this world.'

'Sure it is. Keep hallucinating.'

'You're mean, you know that?'

'I'm not and you know that.'

'Yeah... I know.'

'I wanna sleep with your blanket this night', you mumbled after a long pause, cuddling the big blanket that you kept with you ever since Minho gave it to you.

'And I thought you wanted to sleep with me.', he blurted out, unconscious of what he was saying, but he realized after a few seconds and cleared his throat in embarrassment.

'If that was the case I would use your trick and say that I'm scared and need to hold your hand.', you responded, ignoring his embarrassment, but you were well aware of his mood.

'I wouldn't fall for that trick. I know when you're lying.', he laughed.

'And you think I don't know when you're being overdramatic?', you questioned, leaning closer to observe his face, but also to play with him a bit. When would he drop his act of false disinterest and confidence?

'The chair was higher than you think.', he whispered and held eye contact. Silence arose, and the only thing he was focusing on were your eyes, and he recognized once again how weak he was for you. You were so close, so calm and just one question, one consent and one move away for him to caress your cheek with all the gentleness he could put into one touch. He hoped if he'd ever did that, you would become just as weak, melting into his touch like he seemed to find himself melting into your presence.

'I would hold your hand every time you'd ask me to. No chair needed.', you whispered back and he observed you blinking more often, realizing that this position was difficult for you too, but your words sank in, and he felt like crying out of happiness. He believed you, because he really wanted your words to be his reality.

'You're so much braver than I am.', he said and ended the starring contest, looking down at his hands.

'I'm the bravest version of myself when I'm with you.', you confessed and he saw you smiling at him in his peripheral vision.

'Can we go to sleep? I'm very tired?', you asked, wrapping the blanket around you a bit tighter and he nodded , in awe of how adorable you looked.

'I bring you some pillows. You can go get ready for sleep in the meantime.', he said and vanished into his bedroom to bring you anything you might need to have a comfortable sleep. He also pulled out another blanket from his drawer, because there was no way he would take the one you recently occupied from you.

He instructed you to rest well in a serious manner before he left to his room and once the door closed behind him, he threw himself onto the mattress, gathering all wonderful moments of the day in an imaginary treasure box, then actual items he needed after the shower.

The hot water washed away the smell of the concert hall and the spices from cooking. The lotion bottle was still wet, because you used it earlier. It wasn't the first time you showered here. In summer you two would always take a break here for you to take a cold shower, because of how easily you were overwhelmed by warm temperatures. However, you never slept over. You two camped together or stayed over at friends' houses, but having you at his own apartment over night was a first.

He returned to his bed after 20 minutes and wondered if he would even be able to fall asleep, to agitated by the day's events, but he laid down and tried.

A knock on the door woke him up. He actually fell into a deep slumber. The door was slowly pushed open and revealed you, still carrying his blanket with you. He wasn't surprised, but he was still in awe.

'Did the blanket power run off of scent energy?', he groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and then making his way towards you. You didn't say a word, and he got slightly scared.

'Are you okay?', he asked, worried, gently pulling you into his room and switching on the fairy light that was unorganized and forgotten on a shelf until this moment. He didn't want to hurt your eyes by switching on the brighter ceiling light.

When he finally saw you properly, he was immediately worried. Your eyes were teary and your breath shaky.

'Scent energy immune against nightmares, I guess.', you whispered and sounded like you're about to cry every moment.

'It's a lot to ask, I kno-ow, but can I sleep here?', you whispered, voice so quiet and shaky that Minho had trouble understanding, but he instantly agreed, expecting you to walk to his bed. You didn't. You spoke again.

'With you?'

He wanted to. He wanted to sleep with you in the same bed, even holding you, so badly. He wanted to be bold and confident, but at the same time he was so intimidated by the way he felt when it came to you and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, feeling even unsafe in any sense. He would also give you everything you'd ask for and if you wanted him with you, he would be with you.

'Sure.', he said and added a smile, hoping it was assuring and casual.

He took the fairy light and dropped it on the bedside table, waited for you to settle, and once he thought you were comfortable, he switched the light off and laid down as well. It's not much he wished for right now, yet he felt like it was too much to ask. Maybe that's how he could phrase it, so he tried.

'I want to ask you for something.', he started and heard a small 'okay' from you, quiet and in your consciously gentle tone that made him feel good right away.

'It's a lot.', he continued and paused, waiting for an indication if you’re ready or if he should drop it.

'I conquered your bed and you with your pretty body for a night. This is a lot from my side to ask, you have every right to do the same.'

'You're literally the only one I know who could phrase it this way without making it sound dirty.', he chuckled, amused, because it was true. He heard you laughing as well.

'Okay, I really want to hold you close to me. I, I want to, you know...' , he ended.

'You know.', you repeated and he was sure he could never sound as innocent as you regardless of how innocent he actually were.

'Yes, please, I'd like that a lot.', you said and Minho thought he was already in dreamland.

'Please, can you initiate, I'm way too overwhelmed and shy right now.', he heard you whisper and confidence finally returned to its home.

He scooped closer and lifted the blanket from you to let it drop over him as well. Under one blanket, he felt your warmth and every of your movements and it was new to him, he didn't dislike it though. As much as he knew he liked you, he didn't know to what extent and it was as exciting as it was scary to investigate that aspect of himself and the relationship he had with you.

'Minho.', you whispered and he immediately stopped his breath.

'Can we, kinda, set rules or something?'

'What rules?', he asked, not moving.

'Like, for example... that... we have to say... out loud what we think? And we don't judge that? And we don't act on it or something, just, we, ahm, talk eachother through?'

He slowly exhaled and let out a low chuckle.

'Wow. I take it back. You can make your words sound dirty.'

You laughed and sat up, now looking down at him. It was weird, so he sat up as well.

'No, not in that way. Just, I feel like I need to say what's on my mind here or otherwise it's gonna consume me. I don't want it to become awkward with you when there is no reason for that.'

He understood exactly how you felt and was eager to make this right.

'I really want to caress your cheek.', he announced, well aware of how weird it must sound like said out loud and when he heard you laughing, he knew it was weird.

He also realized that it was completely fine. It doesn't have to be serious, it can just be.

'You can do that. I allow it.', you said, the second sentence only a whisper.

Reluctantly, Minho reached out for you, he was feeling calm, but his hands was slightly shaking. However once his fingers touched your skin, he wanted nothing more to make sure you were confident in how much he liked you, how much you were liked and respected.

He pulled away and huffed in a smile. 'You're good?'

'Yes. You?', your voice sounded drained and he laid back down, indicating you to do the same by patting the mattress next to him.

'Just wanna sleep, holding you. Nothing changes, just like having you with me.', he mumbled and felt you rolling over, hesitantly placing your head on his chest.

'Okay?', you questioned and he laughed feeling you relax against him so easily.

'Yes', he said as if your question was the most ridiculous one ever.

Then he remembered something.

'How do I smell?', he asked teasingly, throwing his arms around you to comfort your embarrassment by rubbing your back.

'You should hold my hand.', he announced and heard you huffing tiredly.

'Is the bed that high?', you asked, sounding like you were about to fall asleep every second.

'No, but I'm high on endorphins.', he explained very seriously and wasn't surprised when you pinned his arm down to grab his hand, acting all annoyed when he knew you actually weren't at all, that you liked his company just as much as he enjoyed yours.

[matthewswifeyx]

Trip <3

Summary- Y/N and Matt go on a roadtrip and they pass the time by singing songs for the journey.

Warnings- just fluff :)

Me and Matt were on a roadtrip, just us, to visit Vermont. I had never been before and Matt wanted to take me so he could revisit his childhood memories and tell me about them. Matt had booked us a lovely and cozy cabin for us to stay in. He was bouncing off the walls with excitement when it was a few days before we would be leaving. Matt had planned out what we would do to keep us busy on our trip. We were staying at the cabin for 5 days.

But right now we were loading all of our bags into the trunk of the car. I had definitely over-packed, but Matt's amount of luggage was even worse, he had 7 bags and one big suit case all for himself. Matt just claimed that he wanted to have all of the best outfit options depending on the weather that day. i just rolled my eyes. I was passing all of the bags to Matt so he could stack them neatly in the trunk so they wouldn't fall over during the drive.

"Baby, you don't need to help me. I got it." He smiled at me.

"But I want to help Matt!!" I whined.

"I know you do sweetheart, but it's cold out. Why don't you get in the car and queue some songs for the journey and put the heater on, hmm?" Matt suggested. I couldn't say no. I just nodded my head and skipped over to the passenger seat.

I was queuing some songs and I could feel the car shaking a little, I looked over my shoulder back at Matt. He was standing on one of his bags to get it to fit in the trunk.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" I chuckled.

"Don't worry 'bout me, you just sit there and look pretty." Matt said through gritted teeth, he was getting frustrated at his organisation skills. I laughed once more at his efforts and then turned back around.

After a few more loud ruffling and shuffling, Matt closed the trunk and practically sprinted to the driver's seat. He leaned over the centre console and kissed me quickly on the cheek. I blushed almost instantly at the action. I turned to Matt and gave him a funny look, trying to compress my laughter on the tip of my tounge.

"I'm just so excited to be going on our first trip together!" Matt squealed. I was just smiling at his enthusiasm. Matt started the car and I played the queued songs. And just like that, we were on our way to Vermont.

We had flown into Boston with Chris and Nick, so the journey to Vermont would be shorter for me and Matt and it would be easier than driving from L.A.

We had been on the road for about an hour and I was growing bored. Matt was doing fine, he was occupied with the driving. I let out a loud huff and slammed my head onto the headrest. Matt looked over at me.

"What's wrong baby?" Matt asked confused.

"I'm bored." I groaned.

"Okay-" Matt paused. "Why don't we play a game?" I shook my head. "Umm, do you want to stop driving and get something to eat?" I shake my head again. "I don't know then baby!" Matt laughed at my stubbornness. "What do you want to do?" He asked.

I looked out the window to have a think. Matt tapped quietly on the steering wheel waiting for my response.

"Can we sing a song?" I nervously asked. Me and Matt hadn't really ever sung with each other before. I wanted to do it because that's what I did with my family when we went on roadtrips.

"Sure!" Matt smiled over at me. "Pick a song that I know though." He warned.

I laughed and scrolled through my phone looking for one specific song. 'Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zero's'. I clicked on the song and it started playing quietly. I reached over to the volume button and turned it up drastically. I looked over at Matt. He looked back at me, he was trying to recognise the song lyrics.

"Oh my god! I love this song! Great choice baby!" He reached over and held my thigh softly.

I had felt a bit nervous to start singing but when I heard Matt humming quietly, that gave me the courage to start singing.

We had reached the end of the chorus and the next verse was approaching.

"I'll follow you into the park. Through the jungle, through the dark. Girl, I never loved one like you." Matt sang softly.

"Moats and boats and waterfalls. Alleyways and pay phone calls. I've been everywhere with you." I joined in.

"That's true, laugh until we think we'll die. Barefoot on a summer night. Never could be sweeter than with you." We sung together. We were both laughing with each other. This felt really intimate.

"And in the streets you run a-free. Like it's only you and me. Geez, you're something to see." We both were in fits of laughter and quiet giggles, so we stopped singing. Matt turned down the volume a little bit. I looked over at him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. I saw that he turned a slight shade of pink. I just chuckled quietly at his reaction. He looked over at me and had a wide grin on his face.

"I love you Y/N. This is going to be the best trip ever." He declared. I couldn't disagree with that.

Banner credits to @bernardsbendystraws <3

Hey guys! I hope you really enjoyed this fanfic! If you have any suggestions/requests please do not hesitate to send me a quick message and i will try and get back to you asap! <3

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Stick Season

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader, Larissa Weems x reader

Warnings: angst, hints of miscarriage

The team sat drinking in Emily's apartment “Oh and what about that woman you dated! The pretty one” Morgan laughed “Y/n?” She responded confused. “Yeah! What happened to her?” Penelope gasped wide-eyed “Um- she moved away” Emily swallowed.

“She was so pretty” JJ sighed leaning back on the sofa “I still remember her babysitting Henry for me” she smiled “She has talent” JJ tilted her drink. The radio played softly in the background as the group made Emily's ex the main subject "Imagine having to tell people how badly you fumbled" Morgan shook his head.

Penelope hummed along before starting to sing, JJ joined in until Spencer and Morgan hummed too "And I'm terrified of the weather, 'cause I see you when it rains". Emily closed her eyes listening to the music, Hotch and Rossi looked knowingly. This was you.

"Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes" They all stood to dance not realising the lyrics just yet or maybe they did. "And I love Vermont but it's the season of the sticks" Emily's eyes opened you always wanted to visit Vermont, that's where your mum was from. It had been two years almost since you had broken up "And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed" Emily wanted to laugh.

"And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim" She knew it was partly a dig at her "I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas". You never drank because your dad was an alcoholic "And I'll dream each night of some version of you!!!" Spencer's voice cracked.

"That I might not have, but I did not lose" Emily quickly stood, on a race to the bathroom, closing the door only making the music seem louder. "No, I am no longer funny 'cause I miss the way you laugh. You once called me forever now you still can't call me back."

She had to find you and it wasn't hard she knew you tried to contact her still Emily watched the phone ring through unable to face she had hurt you. Stick season was the name of your song. It came out a year ago but now you were posting some gorgeous blonde on Instagram,

You were finally doing everything you had always planned, you looked happy Larissa had proposed on your anniversary she seemed nice. The more she scrolled Larissa was a principal for what school it didn't say but your following had boosted. You'd made it just like you spoke about.

There was another picture- a few actually that stood out a picture of a dove but you were scared of birds the caption read Joanne Prentiss. Emily didn't know a Joanne and definitely not one with her last name, it was posted a few months after you broke up. Another picture closer to when you had moved out was two plates but only one set of cutlery. It flew over Emily's head, had you been seeing Larissa longer than the internet said?" she wondered still stalking you.

"I hope this pains just passin' through, but I doubt it" Emily slumped against the bathtub watching the last two years of your life in pictures. Everyone made sure to remind her how she let you go but back then it felt best.

You will marry Larissa who helped you gain your shine back and she'll rot at work, you will continue a family while hers will grow without her. You will be happy and that's all she could hope for until she accidently liked a post from when you moved to Vermont.

"Em? Are you okay?" you messaged not long after but Emily couldn't bring herself to say the truth "I'm great, Penelope was on my phone" she frowned. 'Okay, I'm just checking but it's good to hear you're still alive' Two years for this, Emily still lying. It's the alcohol she tried to pass 'Yeah I guess, I heard your song it's...' Emily typed only to delete it 'Yeah, I'm sorry I wasn't there' No Emily.

'I love you- no' 'yeah I guess so, I see you're well' the song was coming to an end "Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes. And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do" JJ sang loudly. It took a moment for you to respond 'Yeah it took a while, life was tough but it wasn't anything I hadn't gone through before'.

'Can we be friends?' Emily was quick to text 'I'm not sure, you really hurt me but only time will tell. I have to go now Em, Larissa just got home but please take care'.

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans so please keep that in mind! Homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More polls here and more info here! Lyrics for the songs and FAQ under the cut!

Innocent lyrics

I guess you really did it this time

Left yourself in your warpath

Lost your balance on a tightrope

Lost your mind tryin' to get it back

Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days?

Always a bigger bed to crawl into

Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything

And everybody believed in you?

It's alright, just wait and see

Your string of lights is still bright to me

Oh, who you are is not where you've been

You're still an innocent

You're still an innocent

Did some things you can't speak of

But at night you live it all again

You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now

If only you had seen what you know now then

Wasn't it easier in your firefly-catchin' days?

When everything out of reach

Someone bigger brought down to you

Wasn't it beautiful runnin' wild 'til you fell asleep

Before the monsters caught up to you?

It's alright, just wait and see

Your string of lights is still bright to me

Oh, who you are is not what you've been

You're still an innocent

It's okay, life is a tough crowd

32, and still growin' up now

Who you are is not what you did

You're still an innocent

Time turns flames to embers

You'll have new Septembers

Every one of us has messed up too

Lives change like the weather

I hope you remember

Today is never too late to be brand new

It's alright, just wait and see

Your string of lights is still bright to me

Oh, who you are is not what you've been

You're still an innocent

It's okay, life is a tough crowd

32, and still growin' up now

Who you are is not what you did

You're still an innocent

You're still an innocent

Lost your balance on a tightrope

It's never too late to get it back

🫶🫶🫶

Electric Touch lyrics

Just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay

Just an hour 'til your car's in the driveway

Just the first time ever hangin' out with you tonight

I've got my money on things goin' badly

Got a history of stories ending sadly

Still hoping that the fire won't burn me

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

I've been left in the rain lost and pining

I'm tryin' hard not to look like I'm trying

'Cause every time I tried hard for love, it fell apart (Woah)

I've gotten used to no one callin' my phone

I've grown accustomed to sleepin' alone

Still, I know that all it takes is to get it right

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

I was thinking just one time (Just one time)

Maybe the stars align (Just one time)

And maybe I call you mine

And you won't need space

Or string me along while you decide

And just one time (Just one time)

Maybe the moment's right (The moment's right)

It's 8:05 and I see two headlights

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch (Ooh)

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life (Life)

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

🫶🫶🫶

The question is which song is queerer to you! Queerer can mean whatever you want it to mean; you might consider a song queer because you think it was written that way, or because of Swiftian lore. It might be queer to you because of how you relate it to your own life. Maybe you think from a purely literary standpoint the lyrics have queer themes; maybe you're just thinking about vibes!!!

If you’d like to send in interpretations or propaganda for a specific song you can send them to my inbox! All interpretations are welcome and let’s be open and kind in response to all interpretations <3

[mint-ty]

a prompt if you're still doing those: bojere, taking care of bojan when he gets sick 💗

thank you!! 🥹💕 this got a bit longer, but bojere is my drug, what can you do 😌Also thank you to @nembzz for suggestions on Finnish remedies 😁💕

Bojan dragged in his hand luggage through Jere's apartment door and they shared a long hug. Several days ago Bojan had complained on their weekly phone call that he was starting to feel under the weather again, even though he just got better. Jere suggested, that maybe in that case Bojan should just change the weather, and that he's always welcome at Jere's. To his pleasant surprise, Bojan did take the offer without any further pushing.

"Sorry I can't pick you up from airport..." Jere apologized when they separated.

Bojan smiled back. "Oh don't worry! It was actually so nice remembering the route and knowing where you live."

"You want to eat something? I have food here, but I can order also. Or drink? Do you want drink? Do you want to go out?" Jere jumped right into offering anything he could think of.

"No that's okay, don't worry." Bojan sat down on the couch and immediately he felt the gravity pushing his shoulders down and he stretched out. "I'll just lay down for a moment if you don't mind." The travel wasn't long, but somehow it seeped out all the energy he had.

"Yes yes of course." Jere was hovering around Bojan, not being sure how to help. "Do you have temperature?" He asked with a heavy accent on the 'r' sounds and pressed his hand to Bojan's forehead.

Bojan smiled at Jere's touch. "No I'm fine, really."

"We should really go to sauna... I am sure it helps."

"Maybe later, okay?"

"Sinkki... You need to drink sinkki... um, zinc?"

"Jerč..." Bojan extended his hand to grab Jere's hand, who was about to run off to the kitchen. "I just need to rest for a bit, can you stay with me, please?" Bojan scootched to the wall making space for Jere, and after a brief pause Jere carefully arranged himself next to Bojan, hugging him and placing Bojan's head under his chin.

Bojan chuckled to himself. In a silent and sunny living room, with Jere's heartbeat next to his ear, of course he would immediately feel better. If there was one safe space in the whole world, it was here - in Jere's arms.

"I'm tired..." Bojan whispered and felt Jere gently brush his hair with his cheek. "I don't think I'm actually sick, but I am so god-damn tired all the time... No matter how much I sleep or eat, there's no difference."

"...Maybe you have panic again?"

Bojan had to think for a second. "I don't think so? At least I don't remember. But it feels... like I don't feel anything." Bojan burrowed his face into Jere's neck and confessed the scariest thing of all. "I don't feel motivated. I don't feel like creating lyrics or playing music, or singing... it's all a chore. I just want to... I don't want anything." He finished with a small voice.

Bojan knew that Jere would understand, but for a moment he was still scared of Jere's judgment. Would he think Bojan was giving up?

Instead Jere wrapped Bojan harder in his arms and sighed. "Bojan, I think you're burnout."

That surprised him and Bojan lifted his face to look at Jere. "From what? This year is so much easier than last year... Why would I have a burnout now?"

"Maybe if you know, you wouldn't have it?"

"Huh? So how do I get better if I don't know what's wrong?"

Jere brushed Bojan's arm and gave a soft kiss on his forehead. "You listen. Your body know what you need if you listen. If it says he don't want anything - don't do anything, just rest."

Bojan placed his head back on Jere's chest, thinking. Maybe Jere was right, Bojan's body did take him here, back into Jere's arms, almost without any conscious thought. He didn't have energy for anything, other than a spontaneous international trip to Finland it seemed.

"But I still think maybe you also are little sick too." Jere continued after a while. "So I take you to sauna later. And we drink tea and honey. And I give you socks with garlic."

"A what?"

"Garlic in sock? You don't know? You sleep and you feel better!"

"And you'll let me sleep next to you with garlicky feet?" Bojan had to laugh at that.

"Yes yes! It cure you, you will see!" Jere was looking at Bojan with an open eyes and once again Bojan wasn't sure if Jere was joking or not. But Bojan was about ready to try anything that might help. And Jere taking charge was so comforting that Bojan decided not to question the methods for now and just let Jere care for him.

"I don't have onion... I need to buy some." Jere mumbled to himself.

"Jere... You're making soup out of me?..."

"Ha! No... but I still eat you!" Jere grinned, squeezing Bojan hard to his chest.

It really was a wonder. Only twenty minutes here, and Bojan was already feeling so much better.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello!! Recently found your page and when i tell you i binge read almost all of your lookism content i mean it.

That being said i would love to ask if you could do a scenario where y/n and Goo hate each other but fake date in order to make Gun jealous and of course annoyed (in Goo’s case), however in the end they both fall for each other.

Aww!! THANK YOU FOR READING!! Isn't this community great. Isn't Lookism great.

I LOVE fake date fics! Slight deviation to just trying to prove Gun wrong (the plot is thin, okay).

Goo Kim x Reader: Fake Dating

"Get your hands off me!"

"It's called acting, you bitch!"

"Dumb bastard!"

"Stupid hag!"

"Four eyed fuck!"

"Shit for brains!"

A door slams shut. You and Goo freeze for a brief moment before throwing yourselves at each other. Your lips smash painfully together, and hands wander. It's for authenticity, you see.

(And it works.)

Gun stops in his tracks, "What the fuck?"

.

.

You had been chit-chatting as you usually do during one of the lulls in your missions with Gun.

"-and winter weddings are sorta magical, y'know? I like the idea of getting married and having snow falling all around me. But summer with the weather, I-"

Gun has had enough of your mundane chatter. "How the hell do you find the stupidest shit to talk about. You can't even get anyone to date you."

You throw a punch at him, "We dated!"

He dodges your attack, "And we broke up."

"Fuck you, loads of people want to date me!"

Gun peers over his sunglasses at you, he knows you are bullshitting.

Ugh. You'll show this asshole.

.

.

"Hey, you big lump," you kick Goo's chair. Oops maybe a bit too hard. You cackle as he tumbles into a heap on the floor.

"AHH! What was that for, you dumb bitch!" Goo gives you the filthiest look.

(On paper you and him should get on like a house on fire. But the first time you met, he had opened his mouth and asked who brought along this pretty little bimbo. You tried to rip out his tongue for that. Well, the rest is history.)

"So..." You eye up the blonde dusting himself off and readjusting his glasses. Is this one of your worst ideas? Probably. "Wanna piss off Gun with me?"

"I don't need you to do that."

"But what if we can take it to new realms of irritation?"

"..."

"I'll pay you."

"Why didn't you say so, Princess! I'm all ears."

Goo had always thought you were a little weird. As if this doesn't prove his point exactly.

Whatever.

He's making money and irritating Gun. Two of his favourite things. Add in beating someone up in there, and it's his holy trinity.

Hmm, maybe he could beat you up after this. That would be fun. He gives you a sly glance as you're explaining the 'fake dating' and what it entails.

Seriously, what an oddball.

.

.

After Gun discovers you two all over each other, he turns around and swiftly exits.

He did not care for getting involved in your love life. That ship had long sailed.

The only concerns are with his own sanity.

Having you and Goo together is a dangerously irritating, annoying combination. It doesn't just increase his chance of getting a headache and into trouble two-fold, it increases it exponentially.

...And the fake dating begins.

.

.

"Sweetheart, this song reminds me of you!" Goo gives a mocking smile that only you could see.

Gun is sitting in the back while Goo drives and you occupy the passenger's seat. That's fine as far as Gun is concerned. The further he is away from the both of you while you have this little... thing going on the better.

He honestly could not care less. But even listening to you two flirting is like nails on a chalkboard. The headache is returning. He should really invest in some headphones.

"Aww~ You are so sweet!"

You run your hands along Goo's thigh then brutally dig your nails in as you pinch him. This fuck. Did he think you couldn't hear the lyrics? The woman in this song is a useless doormat.

Goo blows you a kiss in return.

.

.

"Cupcake!" Goo matches pace with you and goes to hold your hand. You hear Gun's unhappy grumblings from behind. "There's a new hot restaurant that opened up. We should go on a date!"

"I would love that," That really would be thoughtful if you guys were an actual couple.

"We can have a nice night out and walk along the Han river."

"Perfect."

Goo's grip on your hand tightens, he looks deviously at you. Oh no. You prepare yourself for whatever comes out of his mouth next.

"And afterwards we can go back to mine for dessert? You know what I mean? By dessert? That's how everyone phrases it right? To mean we will just fuck all night? With my big, huge, throbbing-"

You hear a stumble and cursing from Gun. You look at Goo and feel him mentally high five-ing you.

Heh. That'll teach Gun for being such a dick. This isn't such a terrible idea after all.

.

.

"Sweetheart! Don't I look handsome!"

Gun questioned his life choices.

You and Goo had insisted on running into a designer store for something quick. 'Something quick' had turned into an hour of Goo parading around in suits. And now Gun is waiting sullenly in the corner for you both to finish up whatever the fuck you are doing.

"Hurry the fuck up,"

"Gun, you sourpuss! It's for the HNH function tonight. Goo needs to look his best."

Goo definitely did look good, you'll give him that. The blonde has a great body and a keen eye for fashion.

"Honeybun?" you turn your attention towards your 'boyfriend' as he strides out the fitting room. The suit looks like it was tailored especially for him.

Oh. Has he always been this handsome? You start to think maybe he isn't so bad until-

"You said you'll treat me for showing you a good time last night?"

You must be a better actor than you thought. Your mouth doesn't drop open at his boldfaced lie and your face remains neutral.

This prick. No doubt he's going to rack up an absurd bill and make you pay.

"Let's have a closer look then," you walk over to him, playing the part of a sweet girlfriend. Your hand smooths out the lapel and shirt.

"Silly, your tie is all askew," you adjust the knot and tighten it until it almost chokes this idiot.

Goo doesn't say a word, just looks down at you with a smirk. You feel the urge to wipe it off.

"I do like this one," you say. Your hand reaches out to caress his face. He stills at your unusually tender touch, his next backhanded comment gets stuck in his throat.

You push yourself up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

As if on autopilot, Goo's arms moves to circles your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. Something about the way you fit with him feels natural.

You nip at his lower lip. Hmm, Goo really is a good kisser.

Gun closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. You two are getting on his fucking nerves. He really shouldn't kick your asses here. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten.

Scratch that, maybe one hundred.

.

.

Goo, with his arm around your shoulder, eyes your Uno cards.

He had already won a couple rounds ago, and now you and Gun are determining who between you is the loser.

"No cutie-pie, don't put the green one down. Gun will +2 you!"

"Don't help her out!" Gun growls at you both sitting across from him. He gets awfully testy even with silly games.

You hum and haw at whether to trust Goo as he studies your hand, trying to come up with a strategy.

"Put this one down," he ignores Gun and points at a particular card, "cross my heart babe!"

Fine. You follow his instructions.

Gun huffs and picks up a card from the pile. Guess he couldn't follow your colour or number.

Goo taps twice on his cheek. You giggle and reward him with a loud smooch.

.

.

"Like this,"

Goo comes up behind you, pressing himself fully into your back and helping you adjust the grip on the golf club.

You subtly elbow him.

"Watch it," you whisper.

"You're paying for my boyfriend services," he responds under his breath, a grin never leaving his face.

Your voice returns to its normal volume, "I thought I was doing it right?"

"Nooo Princess, your swing is all off!"

He rests his head on your shoulder, actually telling you about where your hands should be and correcting your stance.

If you were a weaker woman, you would be feeling butterflies, and your face would flush. You would think about how sweet Goo could be, and how fun he is in a relationship...

You see Gun from the corner of eye and quickly derail any straying thoughts. Instead, you turn and lightly graze your lips on Goo's cheek and shuffle your hips into his crotch playfully.

Goo, delighted at your movement, chuckles.

Off to the side, Gun facepalms.

.

.

You open your mouth obediently as Goo spoonfeeds you.

"Isn't it extra delicious when your Goo-bear is feeding you?" He flutters his eyelashes. God, this guy is so ridiculous you couldn't help but laugh.

"Do you have to fucking do that? I'm trying to eat here." Gun glares at the display.

"Don't be jealous just because you'll never know love like this!" Goo snaps before feeding you another mouthful.

Gun rolls his eyes. Why does Charles curse him with the most idiotic partners.

"Yeah I'll just pay for mine and the wifey's food," Goo smiles at the waitress, handing over some cash.

"Just pay for it all you cheap asshole!" Gun is exasperated. It's a goddamn hole-in-the-wall, not some fine dining establishment. The total is pocket change.

"Nope!"

"You fucking-"

The waitress clears her throat awkwardly.

"Pay for it yourself, you prick," Goo retorts as he nuzzles into your neck.

Gun angrily slams down some money.

.

.

"What's this?"

So much for doing work. Goo loudly makes an entrance into your office and wafts a piece of paper in front of your face. You snatch it irritably.

"My invoice!"

What? This wasn't the duration that was agreed.

You narrow your eyes at him, "But we're not done yet!"

"No, we're not."

"So?"

"So I thought I'll give you a 100% discount for the foreseeable, sweetheart."

Your eyebrows knit together. Does this mean what you think it means?

Goo is a picture of nonchalance, he perches on your desk as he examines his nails.

"You mean you actually want to...?"

"I'm having a good time. You look like you are too."

Hmm, you couldn't deny it. And you never thought kissing him could be so pleasant.

"So we're really...?"

Goo gives you a smile and a casual shrug. "If you want to, Princess."

How does nothing ruffle his feathers. How can he be so relaxed about this?

You mull it over. What's the worst that could happen? The last few weeks have been undeniably fun. You don't think you had ever laughed so much.

You school your expression and give him a nod.

Goo's easy smile turns into a toothy grin. He pulls you close and kisses you, like all the times he had before. But this one feels sweeter. Real.

Goo fucking Kim is actually your boyfriend. Who would have thought?

When you finally pull away, you both stay within touching distance, beaming at each other like morons.

"Bastard."

"Bimbo."

Goo suddenly frowns, and the magic breaks. "This doesn't change anything. You still need to pay the bill!"