#narrator voice: she did in fact give many fucks

[danhowellz]

IDGAF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths)

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken/Remember the pact of our youth/Where you go, I’m going, so jump and I’m jumping/Since there is no me without you

How, the most dangerous thing is to love/How, you will heal and you'll rise above/Crowned by an overture bold and beyond/Ah, it's more courageous to overcome.

You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It's all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste your self on this roof

Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down/Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

"I'm sure you'll get other submissions for this one. I have no idea who this band even are outside of this song but it fucks me up like it does everyone else. It's the tragic love of it all. The desperation of trying to save your loved one from themselves. Or are the narrators of the song Achilles' own conscience representing his indecision on whether to kill himself or not? It can mean so many things and SO many parts of the lyrics are very poetic and powerful. (also again for me this makes me cry over a Specific Blorbo in this case Dimitri Blaiddyd but that doesnt matter)"

"The cellos in the background, the lyrics, telling the story of Achilles, the fact that it's fucking 7min long, it's beautiful, it breaks me to then pull me back together, it gave me hope in a moment where I wasn't in the best mental space, it's like getting undressed to your very soul only to be cover up with a weighted blanket afterwards and be told "it'll be alright." It's like that image with the guy that's like "this is cinema" but with a song, god I love this song so much"

"Ohhhg my god. It’s so. It’s a fucking heartbreaking song but it gives hope (^^see abovw lyrics. there may not be meaning so find one and seize it gets me the most). I can’t say anymore about it but yeah"

"Achilles is about to jump off the roof, his lover is trying to convince him not to. the vibe of this song itself is so unique, the violin and the segments of French reading really grip at your soul. Towards the end there are two voices seemingly arguing. One voice is Achilles’s inner monologue and the other is his lover trying to yell over it. This part is my favorite, especially if you’re envisioning your blorbo. Tbh in my darkest times I would fall asleep to the ten hour loop every night. It felt like laying on a rooftop and looking out at the stars and the street lights. I think maybe it kept me from doing things I would regret."

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

[chi-the-idiot]

Many have said this before, but i feel it's meaningful and important to highlight this.

People watching Hbomberguy's video on Plagarism and Youtube seem to have laser focused in on the particular people he mentions instead of the overall message.

And let me be clear: it's understandable that this happened. Hbomberguy spends most of the 4 hours of the video recounting the types of plagarism he's seen pop around on youtube, naming people like Filip, Iiluminaughty, Internet Historian, and later using those examples to showcase all the forms combined into one, with all of their excuses included, in James Sommerton's chanel. The video does name several well known creators, so on a surface level it could be seen as a "hit piece/call out" towards all of them.

But people seem to have ignored the real message, the real importance of why Hbomberguy mentioned all of those cases.

Most of those people are well known within their fields of content. Its likely that, if people were to watch their videos, they would not go out of their way to look for the other sources of their content if they were, in fact, cited. And, in the most despicable cases, they were not, and with reason: they didn't want to be found out.

Iilluminaughty cited her sources so badly it would have been tedious for the regular viewer to go through them just to find what they wanted.

Internet Historian literally stole man in cave from someone else, narration and all, and when he was found out, instead of being honest, he was fucking sneaky about changing some words to still make it pass as his own.

And what can we say about James Sommerton that hasn't been said?

Ultimately, I feel like people don't really take into account the true harm plagarism does. Plagarism is taking someone's work and passing it as your own. The time destined to actual research, the talent of writers, the personal tone. It is all lost when something is stolen from them just for the sake of content. For the fame and fortune that comes from it.

Internet Historian took the views Man in Cave could have gotten for the real author all to himself.

James Sommerton took the recognition and praise for phrases, ideas, and musings that other queer creators could have gotten, effectively taking the voices of his community and potraying it as his own.

From all of this, I hope we can learn. This is not drama, this is important. I don't want deplatforming for any of the creators that are still here (except for Iiluminaughty, she has done much more than just plagirize). I want Internet Historian to put effort into not plagirizing, to not be sneaky about it by saying "inspired by" and telling the full story of "hey, i stole this, i will do better" and calling for his viewers to give recognition to the article he read. Hell, James Sommerton could start making other types of content that is not stolen from articles if he wants to.

Plagarism is not the end of the world. But it is harmful to creatives of all sorts, and it's important to recognize that and, if we did do plagarism, credit those whose work we used (if its not possible to take down the work whatsoever), and promise to do better and go through with it.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[the-fallen-blue]

Ok so of all the things about Baldur’s Gate that everyone keeps saying are amazing, let me put this one out there, because this is a thing I’ve been yelling about for easily a decade:

The voice actors know what they’re saying.

Like, here’s the usual flow for a voice actor in a major, triple-A rpg like, say, Mass Effect. The team pulls and prints a list of every line in the game for a specific character, and only those lines, and that “script” is handed to a voice actor. If there are weird alien words, someone might have thought to add a pronunciation guide. And that’s it. That’s all they get.

So you end up with a game where three different characters pronounce the same name in three different ways. You end up with a game where a character says “A bottle of [space drink] for whoever bags the most bad guys!” and another one says “that’s a sucker bet, you drank the last of the [space drink] last night (emphasis on space drink, like, you consumed a space buff so you’ll obviously win)” instead of “you drank the last of the [space drink] last night! (emphasis on the fact that it’s gone, and therefore there’s nothing to win).” You end up with a game where a character says “no one has thanked me” as though no thanks are being given to anyone, when the line should have been “no one has thanked me” because the entire point of that line is that everyone else except that character has just been thanked, and pointing that imbalance out is core to the scene. When a voice actor puts the wrong emphasis on a sentence, it changes the whole meaning, and when a voice actor has no context, it is inevitable that they will sometimes pick the wrong emphasis!

And I don’t know what Larian is doing backstage, but in however many thousand lines of dialog, I have not found even one of those yet.

In fact, very early in the game, there is a moment where the narrator is called upon to say a single word. One word. No surrounding sentence. No contextual dialog whatsoever. That word is “perfect.”

You read that as “PER-fect,” didn’t you? The adjective? Of course you did. That’s the natural reading. Literally any native English speaker, seeing that word in isolation, would automatically assume it was the adjective. 99% of the time, that’s what those letters mean.

The word was actually “perFECT,” the verb. “To improve a thing to its best form.”

And she gets it right.

Because someone told her what the fuck she was supposed to be saying.

Whatever else nonsense the industry does and does not take from this game’s production, I really hope “giving your poor VAs some godforsaken context improves the game” manages to sink into the brain of even one single other producer, somewhere.

[ross-sluggo]

ah screw it, i'll post my cw assignment on the razor

context of what we had to use for our template here

The Razor

I enter the cabin atop a hill

Someone dubbed “The Narrator” telling me my task

I have to slay her

… Is she armed?

No matter

I go to slay her

She was armed.

I reset, that didn’t go as planned

I don’t question it this time, go to slay her immediately

I may need that knife later, though, so I try to grab it from her chest after she dies

She was armed.

She stabbed me.

She fucking stabbed me.

Everything goes dark, and I die.

The woods are the same, I try questioning the narrator again

He refuses to acknowledge that I might’ve been here before

The Cheated is here, though, and he understands my frustration.

I go up to the cabin

It looks VERY different

And there’s a mirror this time. Fantastic.

I tried looking into the mirror, it vanished. Par for the course at this point.

I don’t think I need the knife this time. I go down the stairs.

She looks a bit different this time.

I try to chat with her, there’s something so wrong with her voice.

I ask if she wants to stab me again-

“What? Noooo, noooo… I wouldn’t STAB you…”

Yeah. I’m not buying that for a second.

I try questioning her more.

She slips up.

“Would I just lie? Would I just lie to your face and tell you that a thing I remembered happening didn't happen just so I could stab you again?”

That word.

“Again.”

She knows.

Even the cheated one pointed that out.

The hero tried to insist there’s been a misunderstanding.

We don’t need to listen to him.

I ask what she’d do if we let her out.

“All sorts of things, which is why I think that's a great idea! I would love to not be chained up down here. Being chained up is so boring and I crave fresh and new activities to broaden my horizons.”

Activities like stabbing or cutting or murdering?

“Yes! I mean maybe! I've never done any of those things but there is something alluring about the sound of it. I think it would also be fun to do other activities like look at a bird or touch a tree.”

… Y’know.

I would like to look at a bird.

While I’m not super convinced, I don’t know where else this could go. I might as well look at the locks.

I looked over at the locks. The narrator made a weird comment about being in arms reach of her, though-

Aaaand I got stabbed again. Fantastic.

“Hehe.”

Everything goes dark, and I die. A second time.

Everything starts as normal-

"No, fuck that! If we're going to have to keep doing this over and over and over again, we're not starting in the goddamn woods every time. We're starting in the fucking cabin."

What- huh?

I’m at the cabin suddenly.

I didn’t think the cheated had so much power.

There’s more voices- a contrarian and a broken one.

This is getting crowded.

The cabin is different again. And that damn mirror is back.

Maybe we do want the knife this time-

“And then, we throw it out the window!”

Damnit, contrarian.

We did, in fact, toss it out a window. Fuck me.

I try going down the stairs- oop, I slipped. That hurt.

"Hi! It looks like you don't have a way out, so I'm not going to play dumb anymore. And you still don't have a weapon! That's funny! That's a joke! I'm gonna kill you now."

At least she’s honest.

Blades erupt from her arms. Great. I’ve got many options this time.

So naturally, I’m going to flirt with her.

I give her The Look.

She blushes.

This is going to work, isn’t it?

“Still going to kill you though.”

Ah, shit. Well, it was worth a try.

She skewers me, cheeks still rosy.

Another voice, one rather smitten.

… Wait, I’m not dead. Where did he come from?

I try more options.

I try to flee. A paranoid voice shows up as I’m skewered.

I try to keep dodging. A voice that is hunted shows up as I’m skewered.

I try to fight back. A stubborn voice shows up as I’m skewered.

I try to just endure it. A cold and unfeeling voice shows up as I’m skewered.

I try appealing to her. An opportunist shows up as I’m skewered.

I try to think of another option. A skeptic shows up as I’m skewered.

I’m finally allowed to die.

We’re once again in the cabin. The voices all agree to tell the narrator to shut up.

Blade’s still gone, though.

We go down.

"You know, this last time I killed you and you didn't pop right back up again?"

Yeah?

"I thought I'd actually done it! I thought I'd cut you into so many pieces you just weren't able to stitch yourself back together."

Uh-huh.

"But I guess we're not done! That's okay with me. It's good, even. I like that!"

Okay?

"I got something ready for you while you were gone. Do you want to see it?"

I don't get a say in the matter, do I?

"I'm not going to wait for an answer. I'm just gonna show you!"

Called it.

"It's worth it, though. Just you wait. And not for very long, because I'm going to do it right now."

… Is the narrator even still here?

"Oh, do you want me to talk now? Really? Okay then."

Alrighty, so what happens?

"The Princess' skin twists, splitting into red blooms of raw meat as it stretches and tears. And then it... erupts. She becomes a wave of blood and viscera, pieces of her splattering against the walls. All that remains in the center of the room is a skeleton of blades. A heart beats furiously in its cage of a chest."

... Well. Shit.

“Are you ready for what comes next?”

All the voices panic.

“Holy shit!”

“She’s gorgeous… absolutely divine!”

“Yes, behold! The perfect woman!”

“Do you think we can throw HER out the window?”

“That looked… painful.”

“How is she still alive?!”

“Heart’s still beating, that’s all she needs.”

“This is all fake! None of this is real!”

“I say we bow down to her right now if that had ever even slightly worked for us.”

“This is all just a sick joke. I hate existing.”

“We’re screwed! I quit, I’m done. Forget it!”

So much noise.

So much noise.

Everyone.

Everyone.

EVERYONE SHUT UP!

“What just happened? It’s so quiet-”

YOU TOO. GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

Everything is gone.

She’s still here.

I can finally think.

I’m taking control again.

No more distractions.

She charges at me.

She misses.

She’s confused.

She charges again.

Her “hand” crumples into curved and damaged blades.

She gets almost frustrated.

One last time.

All of her unfurls.

Her heart, beating less but still beating, falls into my hand.

Another hand takes it.

I think I need to rest for awhile.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

WIP Wednesday

I got tagged by @materassassino and why the hell not, I have so many WIPs right now.

From the King-Ohger thing I started today:

“Good!” Jeramie finally lets go of his waist and gives him a pat on the shoulder. “Then let’s go find Gira, normally around this time he’s in the library—he’s been doing his very best to learn about, you know, economics and civil infrastructure and so on, ‘king things’ as he calls them, but he really needs a dictionary to be convenient while he’s reading.” He heads down the hall, reaching over as he does to take Yanma’s hand like they’re gross teenagers on a date. “He’s very much enjoying having access to Himeno’s library, as a matter of fact, she also has an excellent drama collection. I’ve been timing him, we’re trying to see if he can make one of his villainous king extempores last a full ten minutes.”

Towed along slightly behind him, Yanma stares, distracted from the warm feeling now pervading his entire body by his own bafflement. “You two really made for each other, weren’t you.”

“Mm. I try not to give too much credence to the idea of fate, but it is very convenient that we mesh so well, isn’t it?”

“So what’s with this, then? What do you want me for?”

“Well, we’ve both got a minimum of two functioning eyes, don’t we?” Jeramie glanced back at him with a sunny smile. “Matters of theoretical fate or narrative determinacy aside, one of the ways in which we mesh well is that we’ve both got excellent taste.”

“You–I–do you always talk like this?”

“Like what?”

From an extremely silly SVSSS thing that's mostly back-burnered at the moment but which I think about a lot:

Shen Qingqiu awoke one morning with his face rather awkwardly smushed into his husband's armpit and discovered, to his intense displeasure, that he was being narrated.

Initially, of course, he was simply displeased to be awake, and assumed that the voice he heard was someone speaking in the near distance. It was only when he was standing in front of the bronze mirror in the bathroom, cleaning his teeth, that he fully processed what was happening.

"What the fuck," he said to the mirror.

Once his teeth were actually clean, his hair was at least out of the way, and he'd put on clothing that didn't have any Binghe-induced rips, he sat down to figure out what the hell was going on. He certainly wasn't hearing the dry, computer-cheerful tones of the System, which hadn't actually spoken to him in some time. Nor did it sound like anyone he knew or knew of in the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way. (Not that he would have particularly appreciated being narrated by Sha Hualing or Tianlang-jun or someone, but it would have given him somewhere to start.) As far as he could tell the voice belonged to a woman, who was probably an adult and definitely slightly congested. She wasn't a very deep voice, or a very high one–sort of mid-range, whatever that was called. She was also speaking English, with what he thought was an American accent of some kind, which seemed like it was probably important. Shen Qingqiu's English had never been very strong, but it was good enough to understand what she was saying most of the time, at least, and if this kept up his fluency would probably improve. Score one for skills with extremely limited application in this world.

Did Proud Immortal Demon Way even have an English translation?

"Binghe," he said, when Binghe came into the room with breakfast, "you can't hear a woman speaking right now, can you?"

Binghe blinked at him. "No, shizun. Which woman was it? Should I talk to her?"

And last, from one of the ghost story interlude shorts:

“Huaisang, you’ve got to stop throwing things at the electricians.”

Too...many...WIPs...

Anyway! I will tag @giraffeter @plushie-sentai and @timetoddddavis!

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 30: Children of Shadow

Spoiler alert: So many Wheel of Time spoilers are to come. You should go somewhere else if they bother ya. Too tired to make a longer spiel today.

The chapter icon this time is the Whitecloak's sigil, which checks out because guess who shows up to be awful this chapter?

“A blind man could read your face, boy. Well, speak up. Do you hate the girl? Despise her? That’s it. You were ready to kill her because you despise her, always dragging her feet, holding you back with her womanish ways.”

Elyas is such a weird fucking mentor. He knows damn well what Perrin's emotions were at the time, none of which were hatred. I guess he was planning on explaining to Perrin he had no right to decide this kind of thing, except Perrin's come to this conclusion on his own. So that saves time!

Perrin hefted the axe in his hands, still tempted to leave it in the pool. Easy for him to say wait. What if I wait and then can’t throw it away?

Worse still, what if you wait so long that the axe stops being an exclusive metaphorical symbol of your violent corruption so your throwing it away means nothing because you continue on your path of blind vengeance with no restraint or respect for morality? Because that's what's going to happen, Mr. Slavery-Is-Okay-When-I-Profit-Off-It.

But points for asking, and I guess it makes your reluctance to be a wolf shaman a little more understandable because you associate the two. It really is the narration's fault you end up where you do.

“Dapple says they smell wrong. It’s . . . sort of the way a rabid dog smells wrong.”

Whitecloak lovers take note.

We’ll shelter in Artur Hawkwing’s hand. Maybe some of his justice is left here.

Sadly, rather like late series Perrin, Hawkwing couldn't ever throw away the axe. Metaphorically speaking, it's really no surprise that a prospective Aes Sedai and a werewolf can't find shelter by him.

Light, he thought wonderingly, she’s trying to comfort me.

You are the emotional and hysterical one in this partnership. Though hey, I'll skip back a bit to give you credit for the kind of good insight that you really need to display more often:

People don’t see what they don’t expect.

Y'all ever see that video of the people throwing basketballs around and then a dude in a gorilla costume is running around in the background? Perrin hasn't and he still understands the lesson it taught me. Sadly, you're dealing with paranoid assholes, so they in fact expect enemies at every corner.

“There is something up there,” one of them said. His voice was too loud, as if he was afraid of what lay outside the light of his torch. “I told you somebody could hide in that. Isn’t that a horse?”

Really, between Perrin's empathy magic, scary familiars, and people-based reality warping, he should have really graduated to being a horrifying take on Batman that made most of his enemies ask dumb questions like this right before being eviscerated or at least tied up or something if he insisted on keeping Batman's no killing policy.

Out of the night Hopper came, and Perrin was one with the wolf. Hopper, the cub who had watched the eagles soar, and wanted so badly to fly through the sky as the eagles did. The cub who hopped and jumped and leaped until he could leap higher than any other wolf, and who never lost the cub’s yearning to soar through the sky.

Remember literally seven chapters ago when we were told wolf names were only impressions imperfectly translated into words? Turns out that Hopper's name is given to him for the exact sorts of reasons that all sorts of folks throughout history were given verby names and as such perfectly encapsulates him!

It seemed a kindly face, bluff and dignified, and something about it fit the elegant austerity of the tent’s furnishings. A table and a folding bed, a washstand with a plain white basin and pitcher, a single wooden chest inlaid in simple geometric patterns. Where there was wood, it was polished to a soft glow, and the metal gleamed, but not too brightly, and nothing was showy. Everything in the tent had the look of craftsmanship, but only someone who had watched the work of craftsmen—like Master Luhhan, or Master Aydaer, the cabinetmaker—would see it.

This is how we know that Geofram is a reasonable authority figure who does not represent the average Whitecloak, naturally. This reinforces a lot of his stuff about belief and order giving strength - normally the Whitecloaks are all zealotry without any real guide but their whims. But Geof here takes care of his shit.

“Nine men dead, my Lord Captain, and twenty-three injured, seven seriously. All can ride, though. Thirty horses had to be put down. They were hamstrung!” He emphasized that in his emotionless voice, as if what had happened to the horses were worse than the deaths and injuries to men. 

In fairness, the horses are innocent and only suffered because of their associations. Also, losses like this against a wolfpack of about seven are absolutely hysterical. Y'all are the continent's only standing army and this is what you've got?

Byar drew a deep breath and hesitated. “I have had the wolf that was with this lot skinned, my Lord Captain. The hide should make a fine rug for my Lord Captain’s tent.”

RIP Hopper. You didn't deserve any of this shit.

Cautiously, reluctantly, he felt for Elyas, for the wolves . . .  and found nothing. It was as if he had never been able to feel a wolf’s mind. Either they’re dead, or they’ve abandoned you.

Mostly the latter. Elyas got injured apparently, so at least there's kind of an excuse, but it's still pretty funny how quickly Perrin here got ditched.

“Excellently balanced, my Lord Captain. Plainly made, but by a very good weaponsmith, perhaps even a master.” His eyes burned darkly at the prisoners. “Not a villager’s weapon, my Lord Captain. Nor a farmer’s.”

Luhhan being such an amazing blacksmith that he can create masterwork combat weapons is honestly a bigger stretch to me than virtually any other Two Rivers Exceptionalism. I guess it helps that it's an axe and thus closely related to the kind of tools he'd be making anyway.

“Go easy, Child Byar.” Bornhald looked at the captives again. “I expect you do not know much about the Anointed, or about Lords Captain of the Children of the Light, do you? No, I thought not. Well, for Child Byar’s sake, at least, try not to argue or shout, yes? I want no more than that you should walk in the Light, and letting anger get the better of you won’t help any of us.”

Note that my description of Geof as "reasonable" is very much grading on a curve. Right now he's just playing good cop to Byar's bad cop and while Byar might legitimately be that awful, it's clear that Geof's very rehearsed in his interrogation techniques.

Perrin blinked, trying to clear his head. His brain still felt like jellied pain, but there was something wrong here. He could not get his thoughts straight enough to puzzle it out. “Not all of them,” Egwene muttered. Perrin gave Byar a wary look, but the gaunt man only watched her. “Some of them have horns, like rams or goats, or hawks’ beaks, or . . .  or . . .  all sorts of things.”

The problem with Egwene's being very enthusiastic about showing off everything she knows is that she's way too cooperative in interrogations. While Perrin is busy being concussed, she quickly digs a very deep trap for the two of them.

Egwene stared at him openly before she caught herself, but he pressed on with the truth—or a version of it. The two of them had left the Two Rivers to see Caemlyn. On the way they had heard of the ruins of a great city, but when they found Shadar Logoth, there were Trollocs there. The two of them managed to escape across the River Arinelle, but by that time they were completely lost. Then they fell in with a man who offered to guide them to Caemlyn. He had said his name was none of their business, and he hardly seemed friendly, but they needed a guide.

Possibly one of the reasons that Perrin doesn't get the time to shine as the third ta'veren going forward is that he stops needing to bullshit. He's really good at this for being concussed. Points to Egwene too, for being able to fill in the hole in his lie once he gets going. This is why you interrogate prisoners separately, so they can't coordinate their bullshit!

You may be telling the truth about being from the Two Rivers, since you know about Baerlon, and the mines. But Shadar Logoth . . . ? That is a name very, very few know, most of them Darkfriends, and anyone who knows enough to know the name, knows enough not to go there.

Of course, Perrin's story doesn't even get them as far as it might, since he casually namedrops ancient bullshit too. Really, it's almost unbelievable that Geof here is so educated; why was he at the devil's sacrament anyway?

“But you, just Perrin from the Two Rivers. You killed two of the Children.” He touched the axe that Byar still held. “For you, I fear, a gibbet waits in Amador.”

Don't fear, the gibbet is actually waiting in Ghealdan! Maybe Jordan would have had them move into Seanchan territory in his version of the story to complete the foreshadowing though? Kinda contrived but you never can tell.

Next time, we finally get back to Mat! Also Rand I guess but... Mat!

[frobislive]

so you don’t have to: mermaid’s song

hey friends! today’s review will be on the movie mermaid’s song, also known as charlotte’s song, directed by nicholas humphries. it is a loose retelling of hans christian andersen’s the little mermaid.

i did not know this until the opening credits of the movie. let me give you the description of this movie that i saw when i first watched it on tubi [where it is still available at the time of writing this]:

A girl in the 1930s has a family business a gangster wants to illegally help, but he doesn’t know she’s a mermaid who controls minds with her voice.

to call this description misleading is... an understatement. but before we get into that, let me clarify a few things: i have watched this movie before, and this will be like my 4th time watching it as i write this. most reviews i have seen of this movie do NOT like it one bit, and i can see why. but for me it has a certain je ne say quaough. i will be giving a rather lengthy summary of the movie talking about a lot of aspects i really enjoy and a lot i think they could do SO MUCH BETTER, so naturally, this review will be LONG and have a lot of SPOILERS! this is your only warning [for this review]! but i hope you guys won’t mind because the reason i’m reviewing this movie in particular first is to introduce my subgenre of reviews: SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO, where i watch the random movies i find going through a hot actor’s filmography—you guessed it—so you don’t have to! all will be formatted like this: less of a professional review and more me telling you what happens in the movie and getting silly with it.

so levi, you might ask, who is the hot actor you subjected yourself to this identity crisis of a movie for?

well, let me show you the poster:

notice anyone familiar? someone from... game of thrones, perhaps?

that’s right folks, i watched this movie for mr ramsay bolton himself, iwan rheon. so let’s get into it, shall we?

the movie takes place, as stated before, in the 1930s. this wouldn’t be so strange if not for the fact that it is set in oklahoma. do you know what absolutely killed middle america in the 1930s? i’ll give you a hint: exactly what’s killing the southwest right now, only about a hundred times worse.

this is a mermaid movie in which the only water exists in a bathtub or wash basin.

our main character is charlotte, a thirteen[?] year old girl who is the youngest of six girls. i do not remember any of the sisters’ names despite seeing this movie several times, so it might get a little confusing but we’ll be okay. the movie begins with a flashback charlotte, about six years old, catching fireflies. she comes inside and we are introduced to her sisters and the girls’ mother, singing for a crowd in their bar that is also their house. her older daughters—all except charlotte—are background dancers. the patrons look pleased and their father [whose name is george] watches lovingly from the bar. as charlotte walks away from the stage, she is stopped by a man [iwan rheon] who, seemingly telepathically, tells her be careful. she looks confused, so he kneels down and says, out loud, “i said, be careful.” by the way, when he kneels down to her level, and when he gets back up, his movement is sped up. it is not clear why they do this and i believe it is the only time it happens. the mother notices him and looks concerned but does not stop the show. this opening bit is cut with shots of a classic big ol’ fairy tale book complete with many mermaid illustrations, which are fucking awesome, and narration of one such fairy tale. 

i want to take a moment to point out that the sound editing in this movie is atrocious. it is not balanced at all. at many points the music is almost too loud to hear the dialogue/singing. i watch movies with subtitles, so this does not bother me, but it seems to be a big issue for many people who have reviewed this movie. this also does not stop me from getting the songs stuck in my head for weeks after every time i watch this.

now we are introduced to charlotte’s “grandmother”, the sea witch of this retelling. we quickly learn that she is not her real grandmother and no one likes her except charlotte. she tells charlotte what is essentially the story of the little mermaid and the movie makes it obvious that this story is about her mother. the sea witch tells charlotte that “unless [the mermaid] returns to the sea, another must be found to take her place, for the balance between worlds must be preserved at all costs.” by “another” the witch means charlotte, as she immediately tries to steal her away, but the mother catches her and locks her in george’s office, after which she goes to argue with him, because the prophecy must be fulfilled and it’s her or charlotte. here is where the setting of oklahoma comes into play, as it’s revealed that they have moved as far away from water as they could in the hopes that the witch wouldn’t find them. george suggests they “pay the debt” and give up charlotte, and she responds by killing herself, with charlotte finding her body. yes. seriously. take that, sea witch, i guess?

cut to title sequence, where the title card looks an awful lot like they used a rip-off pirates of the carribean font.

now we move to present day. the dust bowl is in full effect, and the family’s business has been affected heavily by this and by the death of their mother. the sea witch still lives with them and has been subjugated to maid status. we also find out that this bar/cabaret is also a gas station now? or maybe it always was. either way, charlotte feels bad for a family that cannot pay for gas and ends up running out on their property, so she fills up a canister behind george’s back. on her way to give them the gas canister she runs into a man named tim, an old friend of the family. he offers to deliver the gas can for her and says he’ll be back in a couple days to talk to george. tim is young and cute and it is very obvious charlotte has a schoolgirl crush on him. tim obviously loves her too, but in a very familial sense.

we see the family growing stressed because of money troubles and customers becoming increasingly dissatisfied with their entertainment [can’t fuck the girls] and drinks [can’t afford real liquor to serve]. the sea witch tells charlotte she will soon have to make the choice that her mother did, and it becomes increasingly obvious that charlotte is regarded as the black sheep and the baby of the family. also, george is not a good father, and soon he’ll get worse.

so far, this movie is strange at best and a disappointment at worst. the acting is hit or miss, the sound design isn’t balanced, and the story is confusing. but now, a character returns to the fray: randall. oh randall. iwan rheon does such a wonderful job with randall. he’s the perfect combination of cheesy b-movie fruity villain and seriously scary. iwan serves cunt in this role and if you disagree i cannot help you.

anyway, who is randall? well, remember the ‘gangster’ the poor description of this movie mentioned? yeah, that’s him. he offers george a steady supply of canadian whiskey and an untold amount of money as an investment, under the condition that he has the final say in how the business is run until the loan is paid off, after which george resumes control and randall gets a cut of profits. he also tells george that he must begin prostituting his daughters, saying he needs to “utilize all the assets at [his] disposal.” george agrees, for all but charlotte [i think the next oldest is like. 16 but who is paying attention to age of consent laws in 1930s oklahoma. did they even have any back then?]. the dance show also involves stripping now. charlotte initially does not know that her sisters are being prostituted, but finds out after she sneaks into her sister’s room to put on makeup and has to hide in the closet when she comes in with a man.

cut to: it has been a couple days. what does that mean? tim is back!! when he comes in, george is... chopping chairs apart with an axe, for some reason? anyway, tim talks with george about the struggles of the world and we learn he has come back from california. george offers him a job working for him and tells him about randall. tim warns george to stay away from him, as he has worked for randall in the past and he is not a man to be trifled with. george is angry that tim is telling him his new boss sucks so he kicks him out.

now, when randall made this deal, he left a man, harold, behind to make sure things are running to his liking. harold takes a... problematic liking to charlotte and suggests that george does start prostituting her, specifically, to him. george agrees but it is obvious that he feels he needs to do it because they are so broke, as immediately after harold leaves the room he vomits. would like to see that same revulsion for what you’re doing to the rest of your daughters though, sir.

charlotte is prepared by her oldest sister for her, um, “meeting” with harold and it is clear she does not know what’s about to happen. as it turns out, neither do we. once she realizes what harold is there for, she has a panic attack which triggers HER FIRST MERMAID TRANSFORMATION!!! instead of harold getting to ruin a little girl’s life, he gets a face full of mermaid claws and runs away screaming. the sea witch appears again as charlotte passes out and she instructs charlotte’s sisters to put her in the bathtub and fill it with water.

here i want to point out that another thing i really like about this movie is the cinematography. it feels a bit lynchian, and i cannot tell if they were going for that vibe on purpose or if it’s just the result of some weird ass editing [affectionate]. either way, something about this movie feels distinctly twin peaks-ish.

charlotte wakes up in the bathtub and notices that a small patch on her leg still has scales. she picks one off. her sister brings her some water and charlotte begins singing, and it is here she realizes that her singing gives people visions of whatever they want most, a trait she inherited from her mother. her sister has a vision of her [secret] boyfriend proposing to her. it’s not 100% clear whether or not charlotte can actually see these visions she’s causing but i think she can. this is important later. george brings tim back to the house to inform him about this catastrophic clusterfuck and that charlotte is starting to get mermaid-y [apparently tim knew that the mother was a mermaid as well]. tim says he’ll talk to randall for george and try to smooth things over. charlotte speaks to tim before he leaves, and he tells her some things about her mother before she ends up kissing him. he tells her they can’t do that, obviously, to which her response is, “you won’t have to pay like the other men,” after which tim immediately gets up and physically fights george, who claims they were going to kill him if he didn’t start prostituting charlotte as well [lie]. tim still agrees to speak to randall.

we go through more family troubles, all of the daughters rightfully hating their father for the situation he’s putting them in. charlotte learns more about mermaid stuff and is able to sneak into the sea witch’s room with the ring of keys that harold dropped when she attacked him. did i mention that george had “forbidden” the sea witch from seeing charlotte, and what he means by “forbidding” is tying her to a chair and locking her in her room? because that’s what he does. charlotte releases her and the sea witch convinces her to let her take her to the water, to be home. unfortunately george catches them and just. kills the sea witch with a fire poker? if she could be killed by mortal means why didn’t they do it like 10 years ago lol. charlotte is obviously upset about this and we get some real cool shots that i’m pretty sure are supposed to symbolize the nightmares she has afterwards. one of her sisters comes to comfort her and again she sings, and again she finds that her sister has a vision, this time of their mother.

now, remember the sister with the secret boyfriend? well, apparently, she has a plan to run away with him. she agrees to take charlotte with them and sends her to steal the money that george has stashed away in his office while he is asleep. in his office. naturally charlotte fucks it up and george wakes up and chases them outside the house, where he tries to shoot the sister’s boyfriend. unfortunately, he misses and instead shoots... the sister, killing her instantly. this is never talked about again and has no effect on the story other than to make charlotte more upset with her father.

but no matter: randall is back! he informs george that harold is, in fact, alive and “won’t stop raving about the monsters.” george claims that he tried to look for him [lie] but couldn’t find anything, and randall thanks him by threatening to cut off his finger! how does george respond? by begging them to cut off his oldest daughter’s finger instead of his! fortunately, no one actually has any fingers removed, as before they can start on the oldest daughter, charlotte begins to sing to them, stopping the men as well as her sister in their tracks, daydreaming as they stare into the distance. randall seems rather unaffected by this, staring down charlotte directly. when she finishes, he tells her, “neat trick,” quite bitterly, which is a line i absolutely love. charlotte convinces randall to let them go back to the regular song and dance show with no more prostitution, i suppose because he’s becoming intrigued with this weird little girl with bigger balls than her fucking father.

charlotte begins singing in the shows, which brings a life back to their business that they have not seen since their mother died. however, george has not stopped the prostitution like he promised, but does not tell charlotte or randall, and pockets the cash himself. shortly after this change, george successfully pays off randall’s loan and does not tell his family. tim comes to visit again after charlotte begins doing the show, and this time he brings his fiancée. charlotte clearly does not appreciate this, and it only gets worse when tim tells her that they are moving away, but before he leaves she tells him that she has something to show him, which means that she sings for him and he has a vision of himself kissing her mother. now, i forgot to mention that at some point in this movie, we learn that if a mermaid and a human conceive a child, that child will only be a mermaid if it is born out of true love. so, DING! now we know why charlotte got the mermaid gene and not ANY of her FIVE other sisters: she’s tim’s kid, not george’s! aaand now it makes it even weirder that she kissed him.

charlotte is now beginning to recognize that people aren’t actually coming to see her for her voice, but rather the visions she gives them, and she quickly becomes disillusioned with her celebrity. she decides to leave, but on the night she tries to sneak out, randall is in her house for reasons we do not fully understand for the time being. he speaks to her telepathically again and we also learn he can seemingly control lights or electricity? idk he turns on a lamp by waving his hand over it. seeing him use these powers prompts charlotte to say, “you’re one of them,” and to which he responds, “them? i’m one of us.” which is also a banger line and i think about it weekly. charlotte realizes that he has been trying to push her towards realizing her powers and he tries to convince her to come with him and be a protégé of sorts, so he can teach her all the wonderful ways they can use their powers to mess with humans [and i like to imagine that this means randall sings to his gang sometimes]. she refuses and like, sure, you do you, but girl i’m different. that sounds fun as hell. imagine being mermaid loki’s sidekick. before randall leaves he tells her that george has indeed paid back his debt.

we soon see why randall is at the house/bar/cabaret stage when he confronts george, dragging a beaten and bloody tim with him. randall says tim tells him that he had spoken with george the previous day, george says he hasn’t seen him in ages, randall shoots tim in the knee. when this happens, a rather jarring synth note plays just before he takes the shot. not extremely important but another little bit of lynchian influence i love. i think about that shot all the time.

from here, everything turns to chaos. charlotte learns about the prostitution, george learns randall is a mermaid, randall tells his men to “take the girls, kill george,” everyone is struggling and fighting, another sister gets shot, and then charlotte has another mermaid transformation and starts screaming. apparently, mermaid screams work the opposite of mermaid singing, as the men all begin to have visions of themselves doing “sinful” things and end up killing themselves or each other. this also causes the oldest daughter to shoot and kill george. randall simply leaves the bar in the middle of this with a very “my work here is done” air about him.

finally, charlotte gets to leave. as she takes one last look at the house she’s spent her entire life in, randall approaches her. he tries once more to convince her to come be evil with him, and as she instead walks towards her new life, he comments, “very brave of you to go in the exact direction they’ve been trying to lure you this whole time.” she smiles and responds, “i’ll write you when i get there.”

and that’s the end of the movie! first thing, i obviously absolutely love randall’s character. he is really the only light in this dreary, underwritten cast and i so wish that either he and charlotte played off each other more or she did decide that being evil is fun actually. this movie also introduces a lot of weird mermaid powers that i’ve never really seen before? but only uses them like once. i mean, yeah, we’ve all heard of siren song, but has anyone else ever heard of telepathic mermaids, or mermaids with super speed, or mermaids that can control electricity/light?

this team obviously had a vision here, and even if it wasn’t executed very well, i appreciate the hell out of the passion i can see in this project and everyone involved. i hope that the team behind this movie learns from the mistakes they made and keep all the things that made this so beautifully strange.

if you liked this post, stay tuned! i’ve got a lot more movies to talk about.

[call-sign-shark]

Sorry for the delay babe, I finally had the time to read this second part and I am yelling at my screen because it was a fucking masterpiece. Your new series got me hooked so fast that I was frustrated for days because I couldn't read this second part. Also sorry if my comment doesn't make any sense but, Brummie, there are so many events to cover here.

First thing first... I SWEAR TO GOD IM GOING TO KIDNAP ARTHUR AND TIE HIM TO MY BED BECAUSE HE IS LITERALLY SO PERFECT AND CUTE. I just love his friendship with Y/N, this is so sweet I can't - The way he gently bothers her like an older brother figure but also tries to wake her up from the helpless love she still has for Tommy. I think the part that got me swooning was this one: "You and everyone else in the betting office were convinced he had made it his life mission to get at least one smile or laugh from you a day, even if it meant ridiculing himself at your expense." Not only it is in character for Arthur considering Y/N is his childhood friend, but this is particularly sweet. Arthur is a loving character despite the horrors, and I feel like he's truly Y/N's biggest support in this chaotic situation. Also the "Yes Sergeant Major" put a smile on my face 'cause I could hear him through your voice.

Arghhh I just want to smack Tommy so bad. I mean, I get it: he's been disappointed and broken by her refusal -- which is a wonderful idea for the plot of your story Brummie. How can you be so talented and creative ??--. It is also true that he must have felt rejected but it is no reason to hold a grudge for SO LONG? Moreover, the way he doesn't even greet her and just slaps a pile of work on her desk is just mean. Arthur's right, she needs to kick him in the balls. Yet... It's understandable why she doesn't do it. I mean, she must feel incredibly guilty. Maybe she even thinks she deserves this treatment after breaking his heart? Nevertheless, it remains incredibly painful for her especially since she's still trying to "seduce" him in a way.

"You're your own worse enemy" = GO GO POLLY GO TELL HIM!! Gosh this woman spits facts.

Alright now about the birthday party at the Garrison... It's fun to see Tommy being cold and despicable but still looking to attract Y/N's attention. What a clever way to show that he is definitely still feeling something for his ex-lover! Tommy apart, Arthur's boring speech is a good comic relief. Poor kitten, he's just doing his best lmao! But before we dig into the topic I just have to be a fangirl one last time and say that this part "Arthur caught your line of sight sending you a wink and a smile" .... I cant. I'm sorry Brummie I can't. He's just too cute. Fortunately enough, you counterbalance the cuteness with Tommy's coldness and dickery. Usually, I am not a Grace hater you know? Quite the contrary, I enjoyed her character and thought she was the best match for Tommy. Yet, the way you portrayed her made me want to slap her face. The way she tries to taunt Y/N and talks about the pocket watch is awful. I mean this quote "I'll get rid of it, it's not like it's worth anything" SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH??? I feel so bad for Y/N, especially since Tommy did put the new pocket watch and dismissed Y/N's feelings. Come on, I think I'm going to grab Grace and beat the fuck out of Tommy with her.

Once again, the real hero and sweetheart of the whole story is my baby husband Arthur 🥹The way he runs after our favorite little narrator and reassures her is indescribably soft. He might be rough and rude, but he does know what heartbreaks feel like -- he's also not stupid and sees that Tommy still loves her. I swear when he hugged her I sighed with relief because she really needed that. Moreover, he really nailed the whole scene by insulting Tommy and refusing to give him back his pocket watch. That's what I call the best big brother ever! " You're breaking her heart you stubborn prick" This was epic.

"She broke my heart first" TOMMY YOU IDIOT. He's more childish than a three-year-old!!! Don't you want to use your brain and understand that she didn't want to be your wife for five days and then become a young widow?? Ughh. Imma just --

The ending was spectacular: whether it is the escalation with Kimber's men or the fact that despite all these years she is still Tommy's girl was a powerful way to end this chapter. Brummie, this is once again one of my fav ongoing series and I already can't wait for part 3. Thank you for writing my Arthur so well and giving him a little bit of spotlight, he's truly a well-deserved moral support for readers. In the meantime, I am (not so) patiently waiting for the next update teehee. 🖤

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART TWO)

Summary: After spending the whole night finishing the documents Tommy had asked for, you woke up confronted by his cold demeanour once against. Your heart only breaking further when you had to sit through his birthday celebration at the Garrison opposite the new barmaid he was now seeing. If that wasn't enough you watched on as the one thing you never thought would get replaced did, when Tommy was given a birthday gift in a small box.

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, mutual pining

"Wakey wakey, rise and shine" Arthur said as he stood in front of your desk with a huge grin on his face. " You're a bloody snorer" he chuckled as he dropped the accounts book that was sitting amongst the various documents on your desk right next to your head in attempts to wake you again.

" Fuck sake" you mumbled, your whole body jolting at the loud noise as you reached your hand out pushing the book away from you. " I don't snore" you said with a grunt as you slowly lifted your head from the papers beneath you, one of them awkwardly stuck to the side of your cheek which Arthur took no time in ripping from your face, leaving you with a lingering sting. With a cheeky smirk playing on the corner of his lips he looked back at you and the glare you was sending his way, knowing how much you desperately wanted to return the favor, but thankful that you hadn't enough energy to do so in your sleep deprived state.

" Late night?" he asked picking up your half empty glass of whisky, swirling it around before downing the rest. " Brrr fuck! That'll put hair on your balls" he said grimacing at the sharpness from the bitter liquor. "Not that you would know, since you know, you don't have..."

" Ok Arthur shut up, I get it " you interrupted as you rubbed the side of your neck feeling the soreness of the uncomfortable position you had slept in all night start to set in.

" You gonna tell me what you were doing here all night then?" he asked as he perched himself on the edge of your desk looking to you then back to all the workers now making their way through the betting shop.

" Tommy wanted me to finish these" you said as you collected the documents in front of you, your eyes quickly darting to his face knowing what his reaction would be. " Deadlines today Arthur..." you said as he slowly nodded his head, rubbing the side of his nose with his thumb. " He asked me because I'm the only one that will finish it on time" you added trying to convince him and yourself you hadn't become a complete push over. " Please, just don't. Don't say it" you said before he had a chance to reply, turning your head away as you tried to fight back the tears now welling in your eyes, knowing full well how pathetic you had become in your desperate attempts to please his brother.

" Come on love" Arthur said as he placed his hand firmly on your shoulder trying to comfort you in his own way. "Where's that girl I used to know ay? She would've kicked him in the balls already, or at least told him to fuck off if he asked her to stay an extra five minutes let alone a whole night" he chuckled trying to make you laugh as a small smile broke free from your lips.

" There you go" he said giving your shoulder a small squeeze as Tommy walked in, quickly turning the mood sour again. Bringing your head down in embarrassment at your show of emotions you frantically brushed away your tears, hiding yourself from his piercing glare.

" Those papers done?" Tommy said walking through the betting shop as Polly followed behind. No greeting, no smile, cold as ever. This was the Tommy you had now become accustomed to since his return from France, since your break up.

" Hello would be nice " Arthur replied for you. " You know, good morning, how are you? Oh I'm fine Tommy, bloody fantastic!" Arthur said as he stood up gesturing with his hands whilst his brother ignored his theatrics.

" Have them on my desk in ten minutes" Tommy replied slamming his office door, pulling the blind down.

" Birthday boys in a mood" Arthur said turning back to you as you sent him a small nod, the smile he had managed to coax from you having left the moment Tommy walked through the door. " Coming for a drink tonight?" Arthur asked as he walked back in front of your desk, forgetting or purposely leaving out the fact those drinks would be for Tommy's birthday. " Me and you Y/N we'll have a little dance, that'll cheer you up" he said mimicking a waltz all by himself as Polly turned around from the pot of boiling water she was pouring, her eyes widening in horror at Arthur's dangerously swaying hips.

" Jesus Christ, you're putting me of my tea" she chuckled as she walked over with a cup for you. "You'll end up in hospital dancing with him, he's all legs and arms " Polly said as Arthur stopped to look at the blank expression on your face, unresponsive to any attempts he desperately made to get you to laugh.

" Would you lot stop fucking around and get to work!" Tommy yelled from his office as he slammed his newspaper on the desk in front of him.

" Bloody party pooper, ay Y/N? " Arthur laughed trying to cheer you up once more as a smile finally reappeared on your lips lighting his eyes up in accomplishment. You could always count on Arthur to try and cheer you up. You and everyone else in the betting office were convinced he had made it his life mission to get at least one smile or laugh from you a day, even if it meant ridiculing himself at your expense. " Yes Sergeant Major" Arthur saluted as he opened Tommy's office door, the huff of a response from his brother loud enough to remind everyone just how much of a mood he was in or more specifically, the year long mood he had been in with you.

Sitting in front of your desk you collected all the papers in your hand placing them neatly together in a file, nervously biting your bottom lip as you glanced up to Tommy's door. Quickly looking around the room you turned away from everyone as you pulled out a small mirror and lipstick from within your handbag. Dabbing a small amount onto your fingers you brushed the cherry red gloss onto your lips, rubbing the rest into your cheeks to give your self a rosy glow. God you was pathetic you thought to yourself as you closed your compact mirror, the loud snap of it shutting inadvertently snapping you out of your pitiful attempts to look nice for him. But yet you continued in your endeavour to make yourself look more presentable as you pushed your fingers through your hair, taming your rebellious locks into something more orderly than the birds nest currently framing your face. Placing the folder under you arm you stood up heading for his office, head held high, summoning as much confidence as you could.

" I know you're up to something Thomas. Billy Kimber..." Polly was saying when you opened the door and she and Tommy turned to look at you.

" Sorry, I know you wanted these since the deadlines today" you said as you looked down at the documents in your hand stood between the door frame.

" Twenty minutes " Tommy replied taking out his watch as your shoulders dropped, his cold manner never ceasing to crush the small amounts of courage you could muster up nowadays. Rolling her eyes Polly walked over to you, pulling you in as she shut the door.

" Come on love, come in" she said with a smile as she took the file from you looking through it briefly when her eyes snapped up to Tommy. Clearing his throat Tommy fidgeted in his chair his eyes darting to his Aunt then back to the cigarette between his fingers.

" Pass me the diary Y/N" Tommy said shifting away from the formidable stare his Aunt was sending him. Was he seconds away from feeling the back of her hand like he did on a daily occurrence when he was a child? He thought to himself as her eyes pierced into him. Nodding you walked over to the shelves behind him as the fabric of your dress brushed against his leg, your perfume filled with notes of vanilla and jasmine quickly engulfing his senses, transporting him back to happier times. Leaning over you placed the large book in front of him as your hair slowly cascaded down to his face, swaying gently across his cheek, sending a shiver of goosebumps throughout his body. A sudden surge of emotions rushed towards him, catching him off guard as he briefly lost himself in the memories your presence conjured up.

" You can go" he said coldly, recomposing himself as he stubbed his cigarette out into the ash tray on his desk, his whole body stiffening at the intrusion of misplaced hurt now quickly filling his chest.

Turning around you walked to the door stopping momentarily as Polly curiously raised her brow, watching you as if she was anticipating a response. But no response came. Arthur was right, where was the girl you once was? That girl would have launched something at him, that or given him a kick in the balls. Instead you quietly closed the door behind you as you walked to your desk, deflated by his constant hostility towards you.

" You little shit!" Polly said throwing the documents she had been clutching tightly in her hand at Tommy the moment you shut the door. " These don't need filling out for another week. You had her stay all night!" she said placing both her hands on the table looming over her nephew" You can add scorned to your new founded personality Tommy" she hissed as she shook her head at him. "Not only do you remind her everyday of how wronged you feel, you won't let her move on. Keeping her here all hours, making her come in on the weekends, stopping all attempts of her ever being able to move on. You were so young, all you had to do was wait. But no, your stubbornness prevented that. And she waited for you Tommy oh did she wait, feeling guilty everyday for being mature on the matter, guilt forced upon her by you" she finished catching her breath, fed up with the way he had been acting. Standing up Tommy walked over to the window lighting a cigarette as he cleared his throat, the scolding he had just got from his Aunt unexpectedly unnerving him.

" You can go too" Tommy said dismissively as he looked out the window watching the busy streets below him while rubbing his brow with his thumb, feeling just as deflated as you.

" You're your own worse enemy" she said as she turned to face the door. "Oh and Tommy" she added as she looked over her shoulder at him. "That new barmaid you're seeing, I wouldn't count on her to piss on me if I was on fire" she said folding her arms as she left the office, leaving Tommy to wallow in his own self-pity.

Kicking the chair In front of him Tommy leaned back against the wall turning his head to look at you sitting at the desk just outside his office. Ten years ago today, did you think he'd forget. The promises he made the hopes and dreams you shared for the future. Polly's words had unsettled him, not because she was forcing him to remember but because it made him face the uncomfortable truth of how unfair he had been with you. You were too young, it was bad timing. That's what everyone said when Tommy asked you to marry him five days before leaving for France, a proposal you was sure he made on a complete whim. He had brought the ring, asked the priest, fuck he had even managed to scramble enough money together for a new suit. But you said no. Not because you didn't want to or because you didn't love him, but because his timing was bloody awful. He was days away from leaving to fight in a war that was claiming young men's lives every minute of every hour. Sure it was romantic, young couples were doing the very same thing up and down the country. But you wanted to wait, wanted to celebrate his return with something everyone could look forward to, something to hold onto as the lonely nights without him passed by. The last thing you wanted was to be left a newlywed and a widow, your nuptials stained by the possible outcome of him never returning. But Tommy being the stubborn man he was wouldn't accept your reasoning. He had quickly convinced himself you had been influenced by your family, by your friends, heck the whole of Small Heath for all he knew when you made him wait for your answer until the next day, popping the happy bubble you had both been living in for the past five years. Darting his eyes away from you Tommy clenched his jaw, leaning forward to grab his coat and diary on his desk as he stormed out his office. His bitterness was justified, you didn't love him the way he loved you, he was sure of it.

Five minutes until the end of the day and all you wanted to do was go home and sleep but being the good ol' sport you was you had agreed to go for drinks to celebrate Tommy's birthday.

As you all made your way to the door, Polly stood beside you casually speaking about her plans for the weekend you turned your head to the side to see Tommy stood right behind you, so close you could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. Was this a new way he had chosen to make you feel uncomfortable? If it was it was certainly working you thought as you impatiently waited to leave. God what was taking John so long to open the door?

"It's bloody stuck again. It's this fucking weather it's freezing up the handle" John said as he rattled the doorknob trying to loosen it.

" Come on John give it a good push or are your hands too dainty?" Arthur shouted stood right behind Polly as she grimaced at his bellowing voice. A small traffic jam of people started to accumulate as everyone waited for John to get the door open, your bodies getting pushed closer together. With Tommy's firm statue now firmly pushed up against your back his eyes wandered down to your reddened cheeks, flushed from the contact of feeling him so close to you again. For just as much as your heart was rapidly beating so was Tommy's, the warmth of your body comforting in the only way that could.

" Bloody hell Curly" Uncle Charlie shouted as he stumbled into everyone pushing you all forward once more. Falling into you, Tommy quickly grabbed hold of your waist stopping you from stumbling over. His touch now so unfamiliar, your eyes darted down to his hand still resting on your hip as you watched his thumb instinctively brush over the curve of your body like he had done hundreds of times before. Suddenly realising, Tommy quickly moved his hand away as he cleared his throat.

" You was gonna fall" he said as you turned your head to the side in response to his sharp movements.

" Don't worry Tommy I wouldn't dare to think otherwise. We're done" you said surprised at how confidently the words had left your lips. Although not being completely honest with yourself, you had begun to realise you needed to stop, stop your constant lamenting over the past, stop your persistence in holding onto the faintest of hopes. Looking straight ahead you pushed your shoulder back, in turn pushing his body away from yours as you crossed your arms. You was getting tired of his shit. The remarks, the looks, his constant mood swings, enough was enough. Scoffing Tommy stepped back, giving you the space you clearly wanted as a small wave of self-doubt crept up on him in response. Had you moved on, met someone knew? Or had he taken things too far thinking you'd always be there waiting for him? The thought of either being true made him feel uncomfortably sick.

Now sat in the Garrison snug surrounded by Tommy's family and friends you looked up to see him sat directly in front of you, his arm draped over the back of the chair next to him, a scowl spread across his face. Trying to focus your attention elsewhere you ignored the constant glares he was sending your way, the words you had left him with clearly bothering his thoughts. He was getting impatient he wanted you to give him attention, wanted you to look his way. But every remark he made you would dismiss, unapologetically enjoying the growing confidence in you as you started playing the push and pull he had playing with you for the past year. That was until Grace walked in and sat next to him, snuggling into his side as Tommy fidgeted in his seat removing his arm from behind the chair as his whole body stiffened and he sat up straight. Feeling a sudden wave of nerves wash over you at the sight of them together your eyes quickly darted around the room when Arthur caught your line of sight sending you a wink and a smile, the self-doubt that was bubbling in your stomach quickly simmering down at the sight of his reassurance.

" Right a toast!" John said standing up as Arthur jumped up pushing him down by the shoulder.

" I'm the oldest, I do the toasting" he said lifting his glass as a sense of superiority rose within him. He may not be the boss but he was still the big brother and there were some things only big brothers did.

" Yeh whatever, just don't ramble on" John said as he rolled his eyes taking a sip of whisky.

" This time ten years ago on the eve of Tom's birthday..."

" Jesus Christ..." Polly mumbled under her breath as Arthur started his speech.

" I had just scored the biggest loot of of my life and Tommy the biggest win of his. A night never to be forgotten. To whisky, sprouts and cramped storage rooms. Happy Birthday baby brother!" Arthur finished downing his drink them slamming it on the table as everyone looked at eachother mumbling happy birthdays whilst they raised their glasses in complete confusion at the meaning behind Arthur's toast. Looking up through hooded eyes Tommy caught your eye as you both sent eachother smile, the memories of that night flooding back to you both. Watching the moment between you Grace gripped harder onto Tommy's arm, uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you, the way she often caught him looking at you.

" What in the bloody hell was that toast?" John said as he looked up to Arthur, his whole face scrunched up, completely bewildered by his older brothers speech.

"Those that needed to hear it, heard it" Arthur said trying to sound poetic.

" Sit down Arthur" Polly said shaking her head as she poured herself a third glass of whisky.

" Anyway..." Grace said raising her brow turning to Tommy as she pulled out a small box from her bag. " Happy Birthday" she said kissing his cheek as she handed the gift to him. Putting his drink down Tommy cleared his throat as he sent her a faint smile, opening the present she had offered him. Looking down into the box Tommy's eyes quickly darted up to your face as he pinched his bottom lip. Furrowing your brow at his sudden change in expression, you quickly understood as to why he reacted the way he did when he pulled out a brand-new gold pocket watch from within the small box.

" Tom's already got a pocket watch, he's had it for ten years" Uncle Charlie was the first to say as he leant against the wall whilst the rest of the room suddenly went quiet.

" Exactly, ten years. I got him a new one, a nicer one" Grace said as you felt your heart suddenly drop into your stomach. " You not going to put it on?" She asked turning to Tommy as he nodded reaching into his waistcoat unclasping the watch you had scrimped and saved for a decade ago. Brushing his thumb over the front of it, you and everyone else watched as Tommy placed it on the table, glancing up to you and the tears now welling in your eyes.

" Thanks love" Tommy said attaching his new watch to the chain on his waistcoat, giving her a small peck to the lips as she smiled into the kiss.

" What are you doing?" She said as she watched Tommy turn the dials on his new watch back an extra five minutes, a habit ten years in the making first started by you. " It's five minutes too late" she laughed as she took it from him turning it to the correct time as Polly rested her hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze in reassurance as everyone else's eyes looked back at you knowingly. Picking up his old pocket watch Tommy was about to put it in his suit pocket when Grace quickly took it from him.

" I'll get rid of it, it's not like it's worth anything" she said whilst Tommy brushed his hand down his mouth as a heavy expression washed over his face. For ten years he had carried that watch against his body, ten years he had carried what felt like a piece of you with him. Its sentimental value was unmatched and Tommy did not want to be parted from it.

" I'll melt it down get some money from it" Arthur said reaching over the table grabbing it from her.

" You won't get much" she laughed as she looked around the room at everyone and the unamused expressions on their face, making it clear they did not share the same opinion. " It's scrap metal" she said as she shrugged her shoulders sipping on her whisky. Turning to Polly a tear fell down your cheek as you quickly collected you coat and bag into your lap.

" I need to leave" you said quietly as she nodded her head sympathetically, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Standing up you pulled your chair back when Tommy abruptly stood up at the same time taking everyone by surprise. Your eyes now locked onto eachother you momentarily stared at one another whilst he also watched the cascade of tears fall down your cheeks.

" You bastard" you mouthed as Tommy swallowed harshly watching you now storm out the room.

" Y/N wait up love, I'll walk you home" Arthur said climbing over the table not bothering to walk past everyone as glasses and bottles scattered all over the room. " Oops, sorry Grace" Arthur sniggered, clumsily treading on the end of her shoe as she yelped in pain.

" Arthur..." Tommy said as he watched his brother walk out the snug putting his old pocket watch in his coat, feeling like a part of his already broken heart had left.

" Y/N!" Arthur said running up to you. " Bloody hell when did you get so fast?" he joked as he spun you around.

" I can't... I can't do this any more" you said sobbing as you fell into his chest holding on tightly to the front of his coat as he wrapped his arms around you.

" Go on love let it out, have a good cry" he said sighing as he looked back to the Garrison. "You know it's my brotherly duty to give him a good punch in the balls now and then, he's long due one" he informed you as a small laugh escaped your sobbing cries.

" When you do, make sure you don't hold back" you said pulling away as he held onto your shoulders.

" You look like a snotty kid again" be said handing you a rag from his pocket which you furrowed your brow at.

" God knows where that's been" you sniffed throwing it on the ground beside you.

" Charming " he laughed as he pulled out Tommy's pocket watch. "Ere, this belongs to you" he said as he placed it in your hand.

" Melt it down Arthur, he doesn't want it. He has something new and shiny" you said bitterly, no longer reffering to watch but rather the barmaid constantly clinging onto him.

" Nah, don't believe it. He'll want it back, all of it." he said closing your fingers around it as you looked over his shoulder to see Tommy standing outside the Garrison watching you.

" Bye Arthur" you said as he turned to see his brother looking at you both, exhaling a cloud of smoke out into the bitter January air " Go, he's your brother, it's his birthday go celebrate with him" you said as you gave him a hug before you turned and headed for home.

"My watch?" Tommy asked as Arthur approached him, stopping to face his younger brother in the door way.

" You're breaking her heart you stubborn prick" Arthur said as he pushed past him ignoring his question as Tommy squinted into the distance, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips as he watched you turn the corner.

" She broke my heart first" Tommy muttered quietly under his breath as he threw his cigarette into the dirt heading back into the warmth of the Garrison.

Turning the corner onto the back alley of your bedsit you headed for home wiping your tears with the sleeve of your coat when you looked up to see two men blocking your way.

" Alright sweetheart?" One of them said as he turned to face you opening his coat to show you the gun he had sitting in his holster.

" I don't want any trouble let me pass" you said trying to move around him when he grabbed you, slamming you up against the brick wall.

" Tommy's girl right? He said, now holding tightly onto your arm as he looked to his friend for confirmation.

" No you've got the wrong girl" you said looking between them, shuffling in place as you tried to loosen yourself out of his grip.

" No, it's you alright. Said he had a girl waiting for him back in this shit hole of a town and that the barmaids Kimber's for the taking when he asked if he could dance with her at the races. Good thing he didn't bring you, 'cause I reckon Kimber would have rather had a dance with you instead" he said as he glared down at your body, brushing his tongue across his bottom lip. " Y/N right? Tommy's childhood sweetheart. No point in denying it love, everyone as far Kings Norton to Old Oscott have told us so" he said as you furrowed your brow in confusion. You hadn't been Tommy's girl since the war.

" I'm not his girl" you said stomping on his foot as you pushed past him.

" Jesus fucking christ! She's broken my toe, she bloody broke my toe! " he said as stumbled back onto the ground.

" It's definitely you, feisty little thing aren't you?" the other man said as he approached you leaving his friend to attend to himself. " We've heard whispers your boyfriend might be up to something. Tell him we're keeping our eye on him and if he doesn't play by the rules the boss will put a bullet through his head, but not before your gypsy lover watches you do the rounds with every single one of Kimber's men" he said as he opened his pocket knife in one swift movement, pointing it inches away from your throat. "Understood?" he said as you slowly nodded your head your eyes focused down at the blade now pressing against your skin and the burn of it slowly cutting into your flesh.

"Good" he said putting his knife back into his pocket as he turned to his friend leaning against the wall opposite you.

"She broke my fucking toe I'm sure of it"

" Would you quit your whining" his friend answered as he put his arm around his shoulder and they both turned the corner back onto the main street.

Leaning up against the cold brick wall you opened your coat as your chest heaved up and down your whole body trembling in fear. Turning your head you saw Isaiah one of Tommy's men at the end of the alley way watching you, his brow scrunched up in confusion at seeing Kimber's men leaving the same area where you was currently standing. Tipping the end of his cap to you, he glanced back at you a second time as he scratched the back of his head quickly walking off in the direction of the Garrison. Pulling your coat back around your body you stumbled along the cobbled path, your hand out against the brick wall beside you, keeping you up from your legs buckling beneath you as fear and adrenaline continued to course through your body. Fumbling in your bag you pulled out your keys as you watched your desperate attempts to open your front door, your shaking hands preventing you from even holding the key straight. Giving up you slid down the door collapsing onto the floor as a stream of tears fell down your cheeks, your mind replaying what had just happened. You knew of Tommy's dealing with Kimber, dealings you oversaw when Tommy got his own betting licence. That was supposed to be the end of it, but after what just happened you quickly realised Tommy had another plan, one that was not only putting his own life in danger again but yours too. Is that why he mentioned you to Kimber's men, not wanting to get his new fling in harm's way, his bitterness and hate towards you so strong he diverted their attention to you, diverted everyone's attention to you? Y/N Y/L/N Tommy Shelby's childhood sweetheart. Apparently he had the whole of Birmingham still thinking it, now a pawn in his never ending game for more power, more success. As you battled with all the questions running through your head you ended up at the same conclusion that not only did Tommy hate you he had let harm to come to you by putting you in the firing lane. Or had he? It had been a year since the command went out on the streets of Birmingham an order intended for your own protection decided long before any dealings with Kimber, a command that clearly hadn't gone unforgotten. You was not to be bothered not to be approached. No one was to lay a hand on you by order of the Peaky Blinders by order of Thomas Shelby, because you was still his girl, always.

(Part Three coming soon!)

Tag list: @cosniffee @jonsncws @powellssaturn @jessimay89 @bruher @riseandreigns4u @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @chimchimjiminie16 @gaslysainz @calicoootalks (unable to tag) @weaponizedvirtue @vlryexsworld (unable to tag) @shittyprofilebutfuckit @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @peakyswritings

[modelbus]

Hii! Can I request a Tommy x fem! Reader where they’re streaming together and they’re just like jokingly insulting eachother thought the stream and chat is just going crazy with how much they’re flirting (romantic) <3

<3 felt like the photo really is accurate.

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Fem!Reader

Flirting or Fighting

"You are shit." Tommy deadpans, staring at you. "Shut up. Never speak again."

"Oh, yeah, I'm the shit one when I know for a fact you were up to your elbows in it yesterday-" You begin, fondly rolling your eyes.

"WE BOTH KNOW THAT I HAD A REASON FOR THAT!"

"YOU WERE CUTTING IT WITH A PLASTIC KNIFE!"

"A man's poop is private business."

You give a look to the stream. Yesterday was quite disturbing for you to walk in on, actually. And, as his girlfriend, you were taking it upon yourself to share it to the world.

"You are a bitch. Out of my many bitches, you are at the bottom." He suddenly declares.

"And your hairline is receding, but we both have things we lie to ourselves about."

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE TALK ABOUT MY HAIRLINE LIKE THAT. IT ISNT THAT BAD. CHAT, CHAT, LOOK!"

Leaning up to the camera he flips his hair up, showing off his hairline. To emphasize your point and hopefully win whatever was going on, you scream in horror.

"She's- chat, guys, come on, it's not that bad. She's lying!"

"I'm not, Tommy."

He fake-sobs into his hands, prompting you to awkwardly rub his back in comfort. When you agreed to stream with him today you definitely hadn't thought it'd turn out like this.

"I am going to eat your esophagus. Wait. What's an esophagus?"

You stop rubbing his back, staring at him in horror. "My- my esophagus? Like, my throat thing?"

"Hang on, hang on, I'm Googling it." He quickly types it in. "Do you think that'd taste good?"

"For the sake of my esophagus I'm going to say no. Chat, ask us questions. To save me. I was forced into this."

"You were not! You were at my feet, begging me like the peasant you are." Pitching up his voice in what you assume is meant to be you he mimics, "Oh great Tommy please let me on your stream!"

Wrinkling your nose you say, "I don't sound like that. Nor did I say that."

"You sound just like that!"

"I don't! Chat, back me up here."

"Woah, fuck off. This is my chat. They're loyal to me."

"Then why are they backing me up?"

He turns his head to read chat.

It isn't actually backing you up at all, too filled with spam of other stuff. Like the fact you two are being cute, or the ridiculous number of hearts. You knew this would end up on Tik Tok later or a YouTube video of "five minutes of Tommy play flighting with his girlfriend."

"Chat, I know you. I have your addresses. I will come in, sneak in with my little sneaky skills and- ha- and wrap my hands arou-“ He cuts himself off by his own laugher, making you laugh.

“Dont fall to his threats, Tommyinnit may be a man but he’s a weak man.”

“Hey! I’m a very manly man! Look at these muscles!”

As he flexes his “muscles” you relax into the chair he had bought specifically for this stream. No matter how much you loved him you weren’t going to sit on a stool.

“Yeahh!” He yells. “Look at me flex!”

“And here you observe the wild Tommyinnit doing what he does best: lying.” You whisper into the mic. “As he rages at being called out for his behavior, watch as he slowly becomes crazier.”

“Wait, narrate me bitch!”

Tommy hops up from his chair, flapping his arms.

“Uh, and now you can see him trying to fly only to discover that his dreams are hopeless and will never be achieved.”

“I will achieve my dreams!”

He turns around and starts what he calls twerking but what you’re pretty sure is a war crime.

“Well chat, thank you for coming to the stream! It’s-“

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims. “I was trying to show off my magnificent ass!”

You open and close your mouth, trying to find a response. “Please never say that again.”

“My ass deserves to be showed to the world.”

“I want to leave.”

“You’re trapped in here with me forever!” He reaches out and drags your chair closer to both his and the desk before collapsing in his own chair.

“Kill me now chat. Kill. Me. No-“

He slaps his hand over your mouth, cutting you off. Despite the fact he is literally taking away your ability to talk, you can't stop smiling.

“Isn’t this so much better chat? Isn’t it so much better when she can’t talk?”

You let out a muffled “hey!” in protest.

When he leans forward a little to read chat, you take your chance.

“EW! DID YOU JUST LICK ME?!” He screams, jerking his hand away.

“So, Minecraft, right chat?" You ask, free from Tommy.

"Why are you all just awwing us? Fuck off, we will kill each other. Stop awwing."

"...we will?" You ask slowly.

"Yes. Would you not kill me? I'm offended. I thought you loved me."

"I- I mean yeah, of course I'd kill you. I'd even lie to Philza Minecraft about it."

"Never lie to Philza Minecraft. You know better. Let's play Minecraft!"

You blink at the camera, mouthing "what the fuck" to the stream. Sure enough, everyone in chat eats it up.

"Hey, do you want the mouse or keyboard?" Tommy asks. "Never mind, I want the mouse."

"Thanks for the options." You say sarcastically but place your hands on the keyboard anyways.

"You are so fucking welcome. See guys? I'm so nice."

(As if planned, exactly thirty minutes later you both get into an argument over why you died in the game. So nice.)

[studiojeon]

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | -   Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee). 

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed. 

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish.  “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes. 

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better. 

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you. 

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face. 

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly. 

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. 

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips. 

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way. 

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were. 

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion. 

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on? 

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week. 

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker. 

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way." 

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while. 

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either. 

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out. 

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside. 

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you. 

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of  his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know". 

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right. 

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?" 

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though. 

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t. 

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

[icharchivist]

"Cecil isn't a tumblr sexyman" whom the fuck is Cecil? An herb??

ANON.

ANON??????????????

IS THAT A JOKE 😭😭😭

I guess only the 2013 tumblrinas (gn) know properly who Cecil is.

Cecil is the protagonist and narrator of Welcome To Night Vale, a surreal horror podcast (perhaps THE surreal horror podcast that kickstarted the trend you see those days like tma and stuff). (go listen to the Pilot, though huge warning for unreality stuff if that's a problem with you)

The show is set up to be a radio show set in Night Vale, a city where weird things happen all the time except that for the narrator, all of this is normal. Yeah of course a 5 headed dragon is running for mayor against the faceless woman who secretly lives in your house. Of course no one is supposed to go to the Dog Park. Of course everyone must give their offering to the Mighty Glow Cloud. Of course there's a ghost cat in the bathroom floating and having kittens, isn't she adorable.

One of the extremely refreshing thing about this podcast, especially in 2013, where tumblr was mostly obsessed with queerbaiting shows, is the fact that in the very first episode, Cecil meets Carlos the scientist, and immediately falls in love with him. Meaning there's a lot of episodes going "the eldritch monster camping on the highway once again committed some new incidents and people died. but that's not important. DID YOU SEE CARLOS'S HAIR? ISNT HE DREAMY?" (and they went on dates and eventually got married).

And the thing with Cecil, outside from his dreamy voice, his gay crush, and the beautiful existential sentences he could spur sometimes (“The past is gone, and cannot harm you anymore. And while the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first and settles in as the gentle present” is one of my fav quotes), is that he was just a voice. There never was a single canon design about him.

So everyone could make their own Cecil. Everyone had their own version of him in mind, though we all somehow agreed on him wearing Night Vale's purple, and you would often see tattoos of eyes and tentacles on him (or that pushed with literally showing them off outside of his skin).

in the early 2010s on this website you couldn't go ANYWHERE without knowing about Cecil. Everyone was talking about him. Anyone who has been on this website for about ten years would talk to you fondly about their friend Cecil Palmer from the radio show.

We're discussing Tumblr sexymen. if you think tumblr sexymen just means a man tumblr finds sexy (even though it's weird), you're dead wrong. And Cecil had earned his place because HE was THE Blorbo.

On another note for you to understand exactly what it means on tumblr, you heard of Dashcon? Everyone's heard of Dashcon. Many people weren't here when Dashcon happened. I was here. One of the scam the people of Dashcon ran in order to get people from tumblr to come was to invite the wtnv's cast. However, last minute, they didn't pay them, and the condition of hosting were deplorable (the nearby hotel was stacked, and the organizator of the con didn't even pay the con's site at all, which means they locked all the teenagers who had came into the lobby to ask them to pay for the fees of the con's rent. Do you even realize how insane that is). So the wtnv crew didn't come.

But it was literally THE thing that represented tumblr enough that it ended up wrapped in this horrible scam. It was the moment. The thing that truly defined the early 10s on this website.

Of course you might think he's not a proper sexyman for tumblr (tbh i think Sans and the Once-ler are the real sexymen of this website) but Cecil has been the embodiment of the early 10s culture of this website. (and personally i think it'd be somewhat very vindicative of the website to have him become the sexyman this time).

Somehow... the way history gets lost in here i swear.

[thesolferino]

⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing 

Masterlist | Next 

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101​ ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy​ ; @bizarrebibitch​ ; @bellomi-clarke​ ; @ladybismuth​ ; @katyasrussianaccent​ ; @satanhauntedourcats​ ; @owl-llie​ ; @teenloves​ ; @notannis​ ; @mcntsee​ ; @rottenroyalebooks​​ ; @peachdoppi​ ; @mirahg​ ; @foxxtrot-116​ ; @koi-soi​ ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

[callmearcturus]

okay fine here is a collection of moments i love from LRHS

hey guys Arc did it again, she wrote so much her arm got a little messed up, so while I am trying very hard not to stress it more, I scrobbled through a chunk of LRHS to point out moments I like. These are vaguely in order, and all should have timestamps to the relevant part.

This is just Beta Kids/Trolls, I will do the Alpha Kids next because they are stone cold fucking perfection.

Terezi's dumb coin flip with the Narrator having fun too. SHE'S BLIND, REMEMBER?!

This is a small joke, but I love Terezi's delivery here, the AA joke.

This whole segment of Sollux talking to Terezi and then having to deal with Karkat's bullshit. The Sollux VA is honestly so fucking good it's ridiculous. KK DO NOT RUN THAT CODE!

KARKAT AND VRISKA, WHEN KARKAT GOES OFF ON ROMANCE FOR SEVERAL PARAGRAPHS. Oh my god. Also Vriska's VA is one of the many that puts in the fucking work and never had a bad line read, jesus fuck.

Okay one of my favorite things in LRHS is the Hivebent Narrator, because they do this little trick where every time they introduce a troll, they emulate that troll's way of speaking for just a moment. Kanaya is my fave.

Kanaya having to deal with Eridan's shit. 1. how the fuck is the Kanaya VA so consistently fucking excellent, 2. HOW THE FUCK DOES THE ERIDAN VA DO THAT WITH THEIR MOUTH? HOW.

Hussie-The-Character stuck in the fucking attic, bc Michael Guy Bowman did an incredible job honestly.

Okay into Act 5.2 now

Rose and Kanaya's 16th conversation. I.... honestly cannot get over the mad-on chemistry here. It's so good. Rose's VA frankly has chemistry with everyone, it's magic.

I need to give more props to Terezi, because what a fucking performance. Giving 100% all the time. Dave at the LOHAC Stock Exchange and Terezi bugging him, love it.

Okay enough bulletpoints for a moment because

THE FUCKING FRUITY RUMPUS ASSHOLE FACTORY MEMO. LEGENDARY.

This one is long and runs to the end of the video and it's just..... amazing. There's some shit that is delicious in hindsight, like the fact Karkat and Dave wind up together, like that does genuinely make the whole thing 10x funnier, but.

TG: not cool TG: luring me into your cyber boobytrap with shitty clip art who told you my weakness CG: IT'LL WORK, WON'T IT? TG: obviously

This is why Karkat is a good leader.

EB: what's so different about your romance? EB: what's a quadrant? how many do you have? TG: john god dammit stop embarrassing us TG: first of all weve got to be on record here as not giving a shit about that TG: second obviously theres gonna be 4 quadrants come on

Dave's exasperation with John being kind of a dumbass, incredible

also i'm sorry but karkat and dave laying into each other at 29:30 is MY LIFE

TG: oh god stop talking about my lips thats the second time

CG: OH RIGHT, THE BIZARRE HUMAN ANATHEMA OF INCEST, I FORGOT. TG: oh my fucking god TG: please let this conversation not be taking place

legendary.

Rose vs Eridan, jesus fucking christ. "Consider this your first lesson in showmanship." Rose is INCREDIBLE, and Eridan hateflirting with literally everyone is my fave running joke.

honestly the above convo continues directly into Rose talking to Aradia and Nepeta, and honestly ROSE IS SO FUCKING GOOD SHE HAS MAD FUCKING CHEMISTRY WITH EVERYONE

Rose's goodbye to Jaspersprite, fucking end me, i tear up every fucking time, christ. This is a perfect combination of voice acting and music. Godddddddammit.

On the opposite emotional spectrum: Dave vs Equius. Equius rapping. Fuck. Equius is a better rapper/slam poet than Dave by far.

what if i just collect every conversation someone has with rose??? here is rose hasslin her brother.

holy fuck this conversation between karkat and jade

look this is where I'm going to go off on how good the Karkat VA is. they, like Rose's VA, read EVERY LINE like an individual unit. there is thought into every single delivery, and it's DELIGHTFUL. they make some hilarious choices, like I cackle out loud at "PLEASE GO ON, I AM LISTENING TO YOUR PROBLEM" every time.

"NOW, TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS" i'm fucking crying, i love karkat, he's a fucking bitch and i love him SO MUCH.

the Karkat VA has more lines than every single other person in the fucking story, and they fucking BRING IT.

Karkat, Feferi, and Sollux. I love them all. I love Sollux and Karkat's friendship.

I keep going on about karkat but its hard not to, they have incredible chemistry with everyone. I have narrowed down my Favorite moment of Karkat's and its this one. Karkat and Eridan. Karkat has just lost his best fucking friend, and he goes The Fuck Off on Eridan and it's incredible. For all of Karkat's big talk, he's not a very violent person, so seeing him actually truly furious is amazing.

Dave and Aradia, because I...... love Aradia. I think Aradia is the best troll actually? Whoops. (Also the Dave VA can be a little inconsistent, but this log is VERY fucking good)

THIS IS A SMALL MOMENT BUT look This fucking moment, when the Beta Kids' narrator hands off to the Trolls' narrator, and they get to talk about Aradia as she finally feels fully alive, it GIVES ME EMOTIONS

another small moment, Jade is hilarious: "yeah, youre never gonna read this are you" fucking CHRIST

DAVE AND ROSE DAVE AND ROSE DAVE AND ROSE

okay i'm done for now. be back with Act 6 moments bc its the best act

[rumblelibrary]

Back at it again with mysterious anon,

Could I request some Niki angst? You've done one where the reader cheats on James to be with Niki so maybe reader cheats on Niki with James 👀

Muted [Niki Lauda x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: angst

A/N: This one makes no sense, I just wanted to break my own heart. Little narration, a lot of feelings.

Niki wished to be able to tear his ears off when he heard James sweet talk to you after a pre-season testing. He whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you how he would sweep you off your feet, bring you away to his house in England.

Then things got heated, he started mentioning how he wished to do you this and that. He didn't need to be specific with his words, Niki could easily understand the situation by how y didn't even flinch or tried to deny yourself.

He knew you, he knew you too well.

With him you have always been protective, jealous, proud of your relationship and there was only one way he could imagine you giving in.

You already gave up. He already lost you before that very moment, you slipped through his fingers like water through wood, following every curve and every wrinkle, weakening it from the outside until you got to the inside, opening it up, exposing it.

His jaw clenched, he pulled his cap over his eyes as he marched away.

There was no time to regret, no time to think twice, he had only one thing to do.

Throw the soaked wood away.

You were speechless the moment you came home to find your stuff already dislocated outside the door, your keys completely useless in the brand new locker.

Very Niki: efficient, resolute and without looking back.

You knocked at the door, you waited but there was no answer.

Your eyes darted down onto the simple and effective doormat you brought, or was it already there when you moved in? As you wondered why it had to end like this, you didn't even act surprised, you knew perfectly what you did and you took full responsibility over your actions.

You were no saint in this situation and maybe it was bold of you to just expect confrontation from Niki.

You considered to just leave, even if pained you to go like that, but you were temporary bruiselessp, you knew actions weren’t the most painful weapon in Niki’s arsenal, it was his cut throat way of speaking and in particular when it came to you.

Before you could have the time to realise that it wasn’t a punishment but a chance the door opened. Wild curls and beaming eyes, simple home clothing and steady hands.

He was everything you ever wanted and all you could never achieve.

“Niki” you murmured as you looked at him “Listen”

He looked at you eyebrows up “Oh, no I think I heard enough today between you and Hunt”

“No, no, now you’ll listen”

You paced inside the house quickly to stand in front of him, a visible frown over

your features.

Don’t do it, you ket telling yourself, just leave, just go, don’t confront him, you can’t win.

He was right, you cheated but it was’t pure lust, it wasn’t like you enjoyed to hurt him and hadn’t felt a single beat of guilt, you just wanted him to know that.

“Tell me the truth, were you even serious with me?”

You asked him and the question made him cringe.

“Like what? The doubt made you wish to make sure you will always have a bed to sleep into? We lived together, sounds pretty serious to me, evident if you apply a bit of brain power in it”

You frowned as he was hurt and he was attacking you but he saw you wanted to talk and he smirked shaking his head “What are you doing? Finding a way to put the blame on me?”

“I just want to talk Niki” you groaned but he rolled his eyes

“No, you just want to tell me why you did it”

He was stone cold, maybe you hoped he’d react somehow, maybe a bit, maybe just a bit. And now he was just humiliating you even more. No matter the pain of being cheated on, he wouldn’t let you win that either.

In that moment you realised that your gut feeling was right, you should have just disappeared.

“Go on, how bad can I have been to make you decide it was better to fuck James Hunt?”

“You never cared about me”

It was dry as an answer, you hated yourself forn ot being able to express all you went through now that it was the time, his eyebrows shot up in disbelief and a bit of

sassiness. He was mocking you.

“Didn’t I?”

“No, not when you’re constantly dismissing me, telling me anything I say it is stupid or judging anything I do from your superior being. Anything I did was poorly done, or not the right moment or just not enough for you”

“You’re not stupid, but clearly you need to see everything through your heart shaped eyeglasses, right? You need confirms and words and speeches and big excitement. Well, go play the princess somewhere else, what I offered you will be the only true relationship you’ll ever have, and you know it. I never lied to you, I never cheated on you, I tried to better somebody that liked to stay as she is, that’s my only fault”

“I didn’t want to be somebody else, I just wanted you to care about something, anything that was not your job”

“So fucking around was a better choice to keep your ego up”

“No, but at least somebody would gave a fuck about me”

You snapped back immediately to him, you couldn’t remember the last time

you and Niki had sex, maybe a little shag in the middle of the night but it

felt more like trying to get rid of the tension to fall asleep.

He rolled his eyes like little he cared, his hands opening like you just stated what you had to do:get the fuck out.

That always hurt you: the fact that whenever he seemed driven to you, he would pull you into amazing kisses and heated love sessions but always at his time, his desires. If you ever leaned to kiss his neck or reach for him when he was busy or doing something more important, which was most of the times, he would shrug you off, literally closing the space between his neck and shoulder, stretching his back to get you away.

Not now.

Stop it.

Don't be like this.

You really aren’t good at picking timings, are you?

Those words hunted you day by day, you felt like he didn't need you, like anything you did was wrong, flawed, helplessly meant to annoy him one way or another.

You always seemed to organise dates in the wrong days, to wish to stay lazy at home on the wrong day, to pick the wrong moment, the wrong occasion, the wrong words, the wrong topic.

There were times you even woke up with him, you would sit at the breakfast table with him, not knowing if to engage a conversation or just trying to show him your support. You just wanted to see him even if you didn’t know if he would stay outside for the night or leave for some business meeting or whatnot.

But it was never worth it, it was never enough.

Every time you engaged him for confirms or any kind of formal commitment you always were out of place, out of time.

Your touches denied, no sweet words for your ears. You felt like a shadow beside him, you weren't there for the good and neither fo the bad. You weren't into his thoughts and not even into his hopes.

You grew detached from him, angry, you wished to hurt him even though every time you found yourself staring in his eyes you felt bubbles in your stomach and an happy feeling. A voice in your chest telling you how much you cared, how dear he was to you.

And yet , no fondness was reserved to you, no tender touches or gentle words.

It was just the bare minimum of a relationship.

So it felt natural, terribly natural that when somebody, it was James but you know anyone could have worked it out, gave you the backhand of attention you felt loved and blessed. Did your heart flutter when you saw him? Probably not, but he held your hand, he wanted to spend time with you, he stayed in bed after sex with you, he held you and not just dealt with you. You didn’t feel dumb every second of your day with him.

Because that's how Niki made you feel.

Like you were a burden and you'd gladly relieve him now from that, even if you never wished for it to happen this way.

Not reducing it all to the unstoppable drive of sex, your pain was discarded, once more.

You probably deserved it, you got it in the moment you admitted your weakness to him, the moment you slipped into some other man’s bed instead of facing him.

Or maybe, admit it, maybe you just hoped that he would lose control.

Just once, just one time he would have to put the rest aside and focus only on you.

"Now that you wasted some more of my time" he held the door open and waited.

You felt anger and sadness mixed up, the realisation that even now you couldn't win against him.

You'd never get your point across, you will just be the cheater and he would be right.

The loud slam followed your exit as your eyes dropped onto the couple of luggages belonging to you, all your stuff. You never realised it was so little.

You didn't feel like seeing James, let out friends and family that will give you random hypocritical phrases to cheer you up.

Maybe you'll go to an hotel, maybe you'll just leave.

You wished to change your name, change yourself.

The instinctive thought that crossed your mind made you gag, because for a moment, just a random malicious moment, you imagined how beautiful it could be to start from the beginning with Niki.

And maybe you won't do the same mistakes, maybe you'd be better.

James told you many times that you didn't have a reason to feel less than Niki, but the truth was that after hearing to be wrong, do wrong and act wrong, you begun to believe it.

And as you dragged your stuff t the car and drove off you begun wondering what life could be without Niki and while watching you and your little suitcases he wondered why you have such a small amount of things. He wondered if you have always looked so frail, he wondered if there will ever be an after you.

Or maybe, all hope was leaving with you, you were his Pandora’s box, a box full of all the feelings he prohibited himself to distract him and the hope was leaving with you, hidden tightly in the perfect cage of your chest.

Far from him, safer.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog