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paracosmic-murdock · 1 year ago

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Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 12: "Parlant à la lune"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It has been two years since your secret was exposed and you had to leave London. Two years with deep buried misery and in which you missed everything you used to have. However, neglect, novelties, and letters made sure to give you more than one reason to return to claim someone who is as rightfully yours as your estate and your people: Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, mutual pining, (kinda???) enemies (fake, this is just pride) to lovers (surely), bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: Perhaps you had manifested it or not, but either way, there was another man in your life to make it unbearable. Luckily, the stubborn fate (a letter) and your untamed mind (your undying love for a certain someone) would not let you stagnant in that misery.

Word count: 2K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

1816 seemed to be a vintage year for the vineyards of the Château du Clos de Vougeot, so much so that it had you between the bushes of grapes painting them while tasting the fine wine produced almost two decades ago. Despite not being able to drink it until you were five and ten, the sweet, burgundy-colored drink has accompanied you throughout your life.

It reminded you of your childhood running through these same vineyards, riding a white horse named after your Mother's favorite gemstone as you tried to win a race against the setting sun, laughing with your father, and shooting arrows at the red dots placed on the trunks of trees. It made you wish he had never left, though you had made peace with his absence so long ago.

Perhaps you would not have to have done all the things you once did.

Your short stay in London did certainly mark you like a bloodstain: the ghost of those ocean eyes haunted your dreams and nightmares, and the words printed on ridiculous papers chased you down Europe for many moons. However, you have come way too far to watch some name-dropping sleaze as Lady Whistledown.

For a moment, you watched your bridges burn to the ground and your castles crumble down. What once were chants celebrating your name turned to screams of hate. You went from looks of adoration to them looking at you like you were a monster.

You had lived in the Americas with your Grandfather for two pair of months as a punishment for your imprudences and had returned to Burgundy with the determination to claim what is yours whatever it took.

You were not as successful, but you managed to have your cousin living constantly at the expense of your hard work ever since. At least he did not intend to marry you anymore, and for that, you could settle.

The book you had written was published earlier this year, and the story of the author writing poems to an unknown lover, sending them to him by talking to the moon was certainly a hit. As a woman, you found that so far from possible, but having your status and wealth did it all to make sure your words could be read anywhere across Europe.

Many more nights than you are willing to admit, you wondered whether Benedict was aware of the existence of the book or not; but most importantly, if he had realized it was about him.

Everything, for two years, was about him.

Portraits of his face adorned the walls of the Palace of Versailles, and his name was a recurring code in your book. There was even an unfortunate error in some of the first copies, as his name and surname had accidentally ended up explicitly mentioned.

No one suspected that the aforementioned was a real person, and you were grateful to the Heavens for that.

"Excusez-moi, Lady Y/N. Quelqu’un vous attend." Antoinette announced, and you nodded.

[Excuse me, Lady Y/N. Someone is expecting you]

You took a handkerchief to clean your paint-splattered hands and made your way to the Palace and out of the field.

Once you were inside, you were told that the person was waiting in the sitting room with your Grandfather. The person was a man, and you almost dropped your handkerchief to the floor.

"My dear," your Grandfather called for you. "There is someone you should meet."

"Whoever this is, I want him gone by dinnertime," you said.

He rolled his eyes at your stubbornness. "He has traveled for days and days."

"It is impossible for a human to care less about another."

You would not normally behave in such a manner, but the resemblance that man shared with your father had your imagination running in circles.

"Do you even know this man?"

A scoff left your lips. "He looks exactly like my father, meaning he must be a bastard child of his. Why is he here? To get what should be his. What will he get? Not a thing. I said I wanted him gone by dinnertime."

You regretted having created your Antoine alter ego. It was almost as if you had manifested a brother, which was devastatingly pathetic.

It was obvious he was standing there ready to take it all away from you.

The story behind it all is that your Grandfather has been looking for ways to watch your reign end for a while now, and the possibility of him having a bastard child was there. He couldn't have lived in celibacy for the nine and ten years he lived without his wife.

He didn't indeed.

There were three children of his living the life of commoners, but the only one who was interested in living the life that could have been his had he been born from your Mother was him.

"Don't listen to her, Raphaël," your grandfather told him, then looked at you. "You mustn't manage all of this for another day. You might not accept him as a brother, but after all, he is your father's son. What you consider to be yours isn't anymore, you must stop acting as if you were Queen Charlotte, owner of every soul that stands in the same region as you, you are not."

Your Grandfather used to adore you, but the events of two years ago led him to treat you like a ragdoll possessed by the cruel spirit of a soul in Purgatory. One you wish to get rid of but return every time you believe it to be gone forever.

You only laughed at his indiscretions toward you and watched him tolerate your devoted gestures.

Suddenly, you were nothing but a woman with the heaviest of heads that bears the crown, and you eventually got tired of trying to win his love back.

"He is nobody," you repeated. "This is my home, and so is every palace under the name of the Dukes of Burgundy. My pennies have made everyone's crowns and if I say I wanted him gone, gone he will be."

"You forget your place quite often, do you not?" your supposed brother commented. "I have never seen a woman that believes herself to be the owner of it all."

Your outraged glance could have killed him if what they said about looks were true.

"You will not come to my own home to talk to me as if you were someone with the right to. You should be the one to remember his place-"

"Women are incredibly arrogant and insane these days, it is ironic coming from one who is utterly alone in this world."

"Watch your mouth, brother," you threatened him. "You will choose your next words carefully unless you want to see what happens when you poke a bear."

"Leave us alone." your grandfather ordered him, and he complied right away.

You sighed.

"When will this princess figure out she isn't worth saving, huh?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I am sick of your misbehaving, Y/N, in all seriousness," he snapped finally. "Your arrogance is making me go insane, your words are inopportune, when will you learn that nobody in this world is standing by you?"

"And I am sick of you coming to my life every time I'm getting it right, sir. I am just so tired of you treating me like an unwanted child," you replied. "You treat me as if I wasn't your own daughter's daughter, and I am certain that she would be disappointed in you if she were here! She would understand me!"

"Don't you raise your voice at me and don't you dare speak of your mother as if you had known her." he ordered, his voice tranquil but angry.

Hurting tears escaped your sore eyes. "I lost the love of my life, you know? I lost him and I must live with that for the rest of my life! I have nobody! My Father is gone, my Mother is gone, you are gone! I am, just like you said, without a soul standing by me, and, just like he said, utterly alone in this world! If he comes I will end up living in the streets after having had it all. Is it what you want? For your granddaughter to be left to her own devices?"

"Ever since you escaped your home to disguise as a man and had that Bridgerton boy dishonor you, you stopped being my granddaughter."

You nodded, feeling more devastated than you had before.

"Alright, I am leaving for Versailles. He can have whatever he wants," you answered, knowing very well that no matter how much he tried, he would never get his name on anything you owned. Your Father's will firmly stated that the one to inherit every ducal thing would be your first son, said will was blessed by the King of France, and there was not a thing absolutely anyone could do against the King's blessing. "You can be sure you will never see me again."

"Do you have anyone to stay with in Versailles?"

"I do not need anyone, I have my Palace."

"I'm afraid you don't."

"What do you-"

Antoinette's sudden arrival stopped you from continuing. "Désolée, mais vous avez une correspondance de Londres."

[I am sorry, but you have correspondance from London]

You frowned, receiving the envelope.

From Eloise Bridgerton

So you opened it right away.

Dearest Y/N,

I, and dare I say my entire family also, wishes you more than well.

I do not know how proper it is for me to write to you after all that happened with my brother, but there is something you must know: he is about to make the biggest mistake of his life, and you are the only one who can stop it.

Benedict met someone: Miss Hayley Prince. I am obliged to speak of her as such a nice lady, with manners like no other. But she is not you.

This is funny enough because ever since you left, every woman he has had around shares some sort of similarity with you. This is what I have picked from overhearing conversations between Anthony, Daphne, Simon, Colin, and Kate, since, of course, I could never know a thing about those affairs of his.

Benedict has stopped himself from sending letters or traveling to France many more times than you can imagine, so you should know that losing you has been the catastrophe of his life. He regrets letting you go and it is under that premise that I beg for you to come to England as soon as possible.

He is seriously considering proposing to her, but I know that if you were to return, he would leave her and marry you instead.

Benedict does not love her at all, and in her, he just found the woman who is the entire opposite of you: she is most certainly not French, she does not care about art, she says emeralds are not suitable for her, she braids her hair funny, she gets disgusted by the mere idea of fencing or horseback riding, she hates horses, she is mean, she is superficial, she is not the third cousin of the King of France (or any king for that matter), and said she is terrified of traveling overseas. Benedict found the only woman in England that does not remind him of you and decided to hold onto her.

The problem is, Benedict is miserable with her. She is insufferable and none of us can bear with the idea of having to see her often. Also, my brother needs someone who can make him smile and inspire him.

That someone is you.

P.S. He talks to the moon every time it is full. I beg you to come fix him.

P.S.2. I have heard about your book! As soon as I see it somewhere I will buy it.

P.S.3. Lady Danbury said she would be enchanted to receive you at her home.

Sincerely and expecting your answer eagerly,

Eloise Bridgerton

taglist: @yentroucnagol @crimsonincursive

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine

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briannaswords · 1 year ago

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It hit you like a shotgun shot to the heart

(@the-world-is-a-poem you said to tag you the next time I post anything I wrote so uh here haha. enjoy?)

The first time Zahra realised she loved Dawn

Zahra isn’t nervous that Dawn’s at her house for the first time. No! Not at all. Why would she be nervous? It’s just her stupid old house. She shouldn’t care what Dawn thinks of it. Doesn’t care.

Sure, she spends twenty minutes cleaning her room and the living room….and longer cleaning the dining room and the kitchen but that’s just because she doesn’t want Dawn to think she lives in a pigsty.

Though, Zahra doesn’t think Dawn would judge her, even if she did live in a pigsty. Dawn’s the only person outside of her family who’s been genuinely supportive after the whole…Chris mess. And she barely knows her.

Their friendship feels weird. Weird in a good way but…still weird. Zahra knows how Dawn’s breath evens out when she sleeps, knows exactly how to hold her to get her to sleep, knows how to calm her down after a panic attack, knows intimately about her recurring nightmares. Zahra knows that Dawn’s gay and her parents aren’t supportive of it or her at all, she knows that Dawn plays violin, she knows that Dawn’s sister inspired her to play guitar but she doesn’t know what Dawn’s favourite colour is, her favourite song or even when her birthday is. In some ways, Dawn feels like Zahra’s best friend. Other times, Zahra feels like she barely knows her at all, that this alliance they built up over the Christmas holidays is fragile, dependent on both of them having nightmares and waking up too early in the morning because of them.

Maybe that’s what this is. They’re walking a tightrope between true friends and almost-strangers and this, Zahra cracking her knuckles and shyly inviting Dawn to her house over the weekend, is the cut that will force them to one location.

If Zahra was nervous, this would be why.

But she’s not nervous. Not at all.

She runs to the door when she hears the bell rings. It’s early, early enough that Dad and Jessica haven’t left for the dance studio yet.

“Who’s that?” She yells, from the kitchen. Zahra doesn’t bother to deign her with an answer as she pulls open the door.

“Hi.” Dawn’s wearing a dark green flannel (which Zahra is starting to suspect is her favourite item of clothing because of how often she wore it at camp), a light-green t shirt and baggy jeans.

And Zahra’s not nervous but Dawn must see something on her face because her small smile fades into something concerned. “Is…is it okay that I came this early?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine. Come in.” Zahra tugs Dawn inside just as Má comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “Má, this is my friend. Dawn.”

“Nice to meet you, Dawn,” Má smiles but Zahra can see the surprise on her face. Zahra rolls her eyes. She hasn’t really mentioned Dawn too much to her mum, just said vaguely that she made a few good friends at camp, because talking about Dawn means talking about school which means thinking about Chris and Zahra never wants to think about him ever again. He takes up enough space in her nightmares. “Where did you two meet?”

“We shared a dorm at camp—“ Zahra starts to say but Jason pushes past her, running like wild animals are chasing him. In reality it’s just one wild animal, Jessica, who’s screaming like a madwoman.

“Jason! Give me back my shoes I’m going to be late!”

“Say sorry for calling me a butthead!”

“No! You are a butthead!”

“Ay dios, guys! Can you stop acting like circus animals for two seconds of your life!” Zahra snaps, grabbing onto Jason’s arm as he tries to sprint around her again.

“Tell Jason that!” Jessica retorts, curls falling in her face. She’s going to have to redo her ponytail—there’s barely any of it left. “He’s the one acting like a butthead!”

“Stop calling me a butthead!”

“Stop acting like a butthead, then!”

“Stop saying butthead!” Zahra yells so, of course, Jason and Jessica turn to her and, at the top of their lungs, yell: “BUTTHEAD!”

“Mechi onu!” Luckily, Má can yell louder. “We have neighbours! It’s too early for this argument. Jason, finish your breakfast. Jessica, get your things, your Dad is waiting.” She pushes Jason towards the kitchen, snatching Jessica’s shoes back as she does so. “Lovely to meet you, Dawn! If you need anything, let me know, okay?” She adds, in her normal, cheerful voice. Zahra will never understand how she fluctuates between Angry Mother and Gracious Hostess so quickly.

“Sorry about the chaos. Sometimes I think my parents adopted Jessica and Jason from a farm,” Zahra says, as they go up the stairs to her room. Dawn laughs, loud and sudden.

“It makes things exciting, though, doesn’t it?”

“If by exciting, you mean ‘headache-inducing’ then, yeah! You’re right!”

Dawn laughs again and Zahra thinks it might just be her new favourite sound.

Dawn stops in the doorway of Zahra’s room. Zahra raises her eyebrows.

“What are you doing?”

“Just…looking.”

Zahra snorts. “Why? It’s just my room. There’s nothing wildly interesting about it.”

“I disagree. You are a very interesting person, Zahra Jiménez,” Dawn smiles. Something stirs in Zahra’s stomach. She ignores it, flopping down on her bed and leaning against the headboard as Dawn slowly traces her shelves.

“You won something?” She asks, pointing at the trophy. “Was it a music thing?”

“Nah it was—uh—dance.” Zahra had forgotten about it, almost hadn’t packed it when they left Aramoor because she’d thrown it into the corner of her small room in a fit of rage when she’d first expressed her desire to stop dance and Pa hadn’t taken it…amazingly. It was the last thing she’d achieved, dance-wise, before she quit and, as a result, it holds some rather bittersweet memories.

“You danced?” Dawn says, eyebrows raised because—right, Zahra hadn’t told her. It’s not a topic she loves talking about.

“Yeah, well. When you’re the daughter of the great Mateo Jiménez, there are some things you can’t escape.” Zahra looks down, picking at the hem of her joggers. “I stopped when I was eleven.”

“That’s when you started playing violin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever won anything for that? For music?”

Zahra snorts, then clears her throat. “D’you want to watch a movie? I have Netflix on my laptop.”

Dawn hesitates, an unreadable look in her eye, but it’s gone before Zahra can try and decipher it. She nods, stepping forward but still straying close to the doorway. “Can we watch Pride and Prejudice?”

Zahra rolls her eyes fondly. “You’re obsessed with that movie.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

Zahra shakes her head and reaches for her laptop. Dawn stays where she is, eyes swivelling around the room, never landing in one place for more than a couple of seconds. She looks restless in a way Zahra hasn’t seen since the first days of camp. When Zahra entered the dorm and Dawn’s smile was small and shaky, like she thought Zahra would reject her on principle, like she was worried about Zahra’s reaction, like…like…like….

Like she was nervous.

Dawn’s nervous.

So Zahra pats the space next to her and smiles as softly as she can. “You’re gonna watch it from all the way over there?”

And Dawn returns the smile, clambering next to Zahra on the bed. Halfway into the movie, she leans on Zahra, tentatively, as if Zahra will push her away if she gets too close. Instead, Zahra wraps her arm around Dawn’s shoulders, pulling her closer. She’s engulfed in that same, familiar scent from camp—something earthy and sweet and quintessentially Dawn.

She likes it.

And, afterwards, when the film ends and they spend half an hour bickering about what they’re going to watch next, all Zahra can think about is how she hasn’t felt this comfortable since…Aramoor. She can’t help but think about how natural this feels, when they go down to the kitchen and Zahra heats up the first thing she can find in the fridge for Dawn, when Dawn insists that Zahra eat too, when they go back up to Zahra’s room and sit cross-legged across each other on the floor. When Dawn smiles up at her, Zahra feels something warm burst in her chest because…the tightrope is gone. It snapped somewhere between Zahra inviting Dawn in and seeing her laugh at Jessica and Jason’s antics and asking so gently about the trophy, saying ‘you won something?’ but meaning ‘I want to know you, please dear god let me know you’ and Zahra being able to read Dawn’s eyes well enough to know the words she’s not saying and holding each other while Mr Darcy confessed his love for Elizabeth Bennett and ribbing each other for their taste in movies and now, sitting on Zahra’s bedroom floor eating leftover mac and cheese.

In the silence, Zahra feels it, that quiet certainty. They’re friends now. Proper friends.

It feels good.

She smiles back at Dawn. She says nothing but her eyes shine with all the words she wants to say: thank you for coming and I want you to come again if anything so I can give you a better lunch than yesterday’s dinner and I want to know you too and I hope we keep getting closer.

I love you. Please, dear god, let me love you.

#I was proud of it so here it is #otp: I never knew I could feel this much #oc: zahra #oc: dawn #bri writes #(haven't done that in a while lol)#title from getaway car by the legend herself t swift

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androidcharles · 1 year ago

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Rockin' the House Chapter 3

There's a lot crammed into this chapter, so here's a general summary

Ellie has been commissioned by Charles to write lyrics for their music! And she meets up w/ an old friend in the process... And after that the show starts! How well will it go?

Ellie tapped a pencil on her desk as she let out a small sigh, trying to concentrate as she stared at the blank piece of paper. A week ago, Charles had begged her to write lyrics for one of their songs in time for their first performance. Their set list consisted of four songs, three of them covers of songs ancient and modern. It had been a while since she had really written, so writing lyrics for Charles and his band should have been a piece of cake.

However, it seemed like she was having a hard time finding inspiration. It was strange that Charles chose her to write songs for them. He only requested her to do it because his lyrics were a bit dark. She had read over them and didn’t seem to think they weren’t that bad. A bit horrifying in some places, but it didn’t really fit their sound at all.

Charles seemed to like writing somewhat cheerful sounding songs, but dark lyrics wouldn’t really fit with that. But than why did Charles ask her to write the lyrics? Her poems were pretty dark too.

Maybe he thought they were more tame compared to half of the stuff he wrote. She sighed as she glanced over at the clock, realizing it had only been thirty minutes and slammed her head on the desk, letting out a small groan.

“You OK?” Her head popped up and she saw Henry looking at her with a bit of worry.

YOU SHOULDN’T BE OUT OF BED, Henry said, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

“Writing a song for Charles?” Ellie said, “I mean, he asked me to… The cast comes off in about a few days anyway. I might as well get used to moving around anyway.”

WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WRITE, ANYWAY? Henry asked.

“Charles said he wanted something bittersweet,” Ellie said, “I guess that’s what my poems are? That’s a very interesting way of putting it. His friends said his poem was too dark.”

“Bittersweet…” Henry said softly as he glanced at the papers.

“I’ve already heard their songs. They’re pretty good actually. Charles uploaded the recordings onto AudioMist,” Ellie said, “I listened to them to get a good idea of how I should write these lyrics but in all honesty, I’m not sure if I can do something that’ll impress him.”

WELL, DON’T FORCE IT. TRUST ME, WHENEVER I’M MAKING SCULPTURES AND STUFF, I FIND THAT MAKING FROM THE HEART IS MORE IMPORTANT THEN TRYING TO FORCE MYSELF TO MAKE SOMETHING, Henry signed at her, patting her back in reassurance.

“Maybe I should take a walk, just to clear my head,” Ellie said, “Maybe I’ll find something inspiring out in the city.”

CAN I JOIN YOU? Henry asked. Ellie smiled.

“Sure, why not?” Ellie said.

The two of them exited the apartment together as they headed out through the city, taking in the sights as they walked around the block before they finally decided to sit down on a city bench. Ellie was busy scribbling in a notepad as Henry took in the surroundings, doing some sketches of his own.

“I’m actually feeling the inspiration flowing through me a bit. This actually kinda reminds me of how I used to pal around with my older cousin,” Ellie said, “We’d run around Manhatten unsupervised and somehow get into all sorts of trouble. One time we got chased by two… HEY I met the Toppats before I even met them. How funny is that?” Henry giggled as he watched everyone going by.

“Yeah, Jacob was always causing trouble. Then he became a security guard for West Mesa Museum,” Ellie said.

DIDN’T YOU HEAR? HE ACTUALLY GOT FIRED A WHILE BACK, Henry said.

“What? What happened?” Ellie asked.

“Um…” I HAPPENED, Henry said, making a sort of cringey face as he put his fingers together.

“Oh, yeah, you stealing the diamond did that…” Ellie said.

HOW DID YOU KNOW HE WAS WORKING AT THE WEST MESA MUSEUM BEFORE I ROBBED IT? Henry said, I NEVER TOLD YOU.

“I was kinda keeping an eye on him. But when I moved up north, I found it more difficult so I just… gave up on it. I don’t know what he’s up to now,” Ellie said. Henry only shrugged as he glanced at everyone passing by, taking note of everyone and watching them walk by. Ellie suddenly grabbed Henry’s shirt as he flinched, glancing at Ellie with a look of confusion.

“Is that… who I think it is…” Ellie said softly. She looked down the street as Henry glanced around, trying to figure out what she was looking at.

“There, over there!!” Ellie whispered, pointing at a person who was wearing a huge coat and a pair of shades, looking around as he adjusted his hat to cover his face a bit more. He tried to think of where he might have seen him before Ellie shot out of her seat, trying her best to run after the man with her crutch. Henry cautiously followed behind her as they situated themselves in an alleyway near the person in question. He glanced around again, as if he was trying to see if there was anyone watching.

“Jacob… JACOB!” Ellie shout whispered. The mans head bolted up as he flinched, trying to figure out where the voice had come as Ellie waved her hands at him. He tipped his head to the side as he started to head down the alleyway before gasping, seeing Ellie looking at him with wide eyes.

“Jacob?” Ellie whispered. Jacob took off his sunglasses, returning her bewildered look as Henry put his hand over his mouth.

“Ellie?” Jacob said, “Is that really you?” He glanced from side to side and leaned forward.

“This isn’t the best time for us to meet right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Ellie asked as they suddenly heard a couple of screams from the street.

“That’s going on right now. Excuse me,” Jacob ran out of the alleyway, shucking off the coat to reveal his clothes and a pin on the pocket of his shirt… a Toppat pin.

“No way…” Ellie said softly as he raced down the street, hearing police sirens. Henry beckoned for Ellie to follow him as they ducked through the alleys to another part of the city, where Ellie slid down against the wall and looked up in shock. Henry tapped her shoulder to communicate with her.

SHOCKED? Was the first thing he asked.

“I mean, I guess? I didn’t think he had it in him though. He was always such a goody two shoes growing up. I thought he would still be looking after our aunt. After the fire…” Ellie started to grip her head as she felt a spike of pain shook up her spine. She took a deep grounding breath before looking at at Henry, who had a great look of concern in his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ellie said, “I think I’ve had enough fresh air for today…”

“Ellie!” The pair jumped when they heard a shout and turned around to see Jacob running towards them. Ellie backed away as Jacob stared at her, almost ready to run after her before she approached him.

“You should get out of here, you robbed a bank!” Ellie said quietly.

“I just wanted to tell you that we need to meet up. There’s… a lot I wanna talk about…” Jacob said.

“What makes you think I’m not gonna turn you in to the authorities?” Ellie asked.

“Because… I trust you?” Jacob said, “I don’t know, but I gotta run! Please, let’s meet up, I promise it’ll be worth it!” Jacob ran off as Ellie sighed, resting her head against the wall.

“Wanna go home now?” Henry said softly as Ellie nodded her head.

- - - - -

About two days had passed since Ellie’s encounter with Jacob. She had mentioned it to Charles and Charles seemed a bit shocked that he was related to Ellie.

“I thought that Rose was a very common last name!” Charles said, “To think that was your cousin… I can’t believe it.”

Meanwhile, she had managed to write at least one song for the first song Charles had written. Charles loved it a lot and was already practicing it with Amelia, who seemed to have a hard time playing and singing at the same time. However, things were getting better considering the people they were practicing with.

Ellie wanted to write another song with the second song that Charles had written, but she couldn’t seem to think of anything in the moment.

“Don’t worry too much about it!” Charles had told her as he packed his things for band practice, “Even one song is enough! I think we’ll just perform some covers of some other songs.”

“I don’t want your band to devolve into a cover band though. I’ve still got a week, I could probably get something done for you in that time!”

“Don’t worry too much about it. I know the creative process and it sucks sometimes. Just get it out when you can, alright?” Charles said, “Say, how about you come with me?”

“Huh?”

“You wanna meet with your cousin right? Might as well come with me.”

“I’d rather not. You’re pretty welcome over, but the other Toppats might not take too kindly to me.”

“Well, not everyone is nice to me. Our music trainers are still kinda cold towards me and there’s also a couple of Toppats here and there who’ll jeer at me. There’s this one Toppat in the kitchen though, Scottie who’s really nice! Ah, well, that’s just to name a few,” Charles said, “If you want, I can have you stay in the chopper and I’ll ask the Right Hand Man to find Jacob so he can meet you up there.” Elllie pondered this for a second. It had been a while since she had talked to her cousin and it would be nice to catch up once again.

“Alright, fine. I’ll come with you. But only if you promise I’m not gonna be like… taken prisoner or anything.”

“You have my word. If they try anything on you, I’ll give them hell.” Ellie followed Charles out the door, letting Henry know that she was going out and she would be back soon. Charles handed him a slip of paper before heading out, locking the door behind him.

“What was that?” Ellie asked.

“A slip of paper with the coordinates of the Toppat manor. If anything happens, he can come rescue us!” Charles said as he headed up to the roof.

After about an hour of flight, the helicopter landed on top of the manor in the designated location, where Amelia was already waiting for him with Dave. Charles stepped out of the helicopter as Ellie walked towards the pilots area, watching him talk to Amelia and Dave as Amelia tipped her head to the side. Immediately, she ran towards the helicopter’s entrance and rapidly pulled the door open, causing Ellie to jump as she stared at her.

“Hello,” she said, smiling at her.

“Hey… long time no see,” Ellie said, “I wanna talk to my cousin, Jacob Rose. Is that OK?”

“Jacob? Yeah, that’s alright!” Amelia said, “You’re not gonna attack him are you?”

“That really depends on a lot of things,” Ellie said, “Can you just tell him that I’m up here?”

“Sure!” Amelia immediately accessed her messenger app and typed up a message for Jacob.

GlitterToppatGirl: Jacob

RoseRedToppat: what

GlitterToppatGirl: Are you available?

RoseRedToppat: what do you need

GlitterToppatGirl: There’s a girl claiming to be your cousin here right now on the roof. She has red hair, I forgot her name… Elsie or something? …….Hello? HEY

“Geez,” Amelia muttered as she closed her messenger, “I’ve gotta get to practice. There’s a room nearby you can wait in if you want.”

“No thanks I’m good,” Ellie said as she cautiously exited the helicopter, relishing the fresh air out here compared to the more smoggy air in the city. She looked up to see a sea of stars above her, feeling a bit refreshed at it all as Amelia smiled at her.

“Alright, whatever you want,” Amelia said, “Just don’t catch a cold up here.” She followed Charles and Dave as they talked amongst themselves as Ellie sighed, sitting on the edge of the helicopter, making note of anything she can do to ensure her safety when she heard the door burst open. She looked up to see Jacob, his eyes wide as he ran towards her. She jumped off of the helicopter just in time to get barreled down by a huge hug.

“ELLIE! I WAS SO FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT YOU!! When you disappeared after the fire and oh greater ones above, I don’t know what to tell you I don’t know where to start-”

“How about you start by telling me why you became a Toppat?” Ellie asked. Jacob flinched as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Well, it was more of a recent development. I got tired of working at this one taco stand and a Toppat approached me and asked me if I wanted to join. So… I did. I know it wasn’t really ethical, but I was sick of bouncing between jobs and living with my mom. She’s gone nuts since last year and I don’t know why. So I took advantage of the free lodging and stuff that’s offered there and I just told her I was going to work freelance somewhere else,” Jacob said.

“Seriously?” Ellie said.

“It was either that or become a streamer and I really couldn’t put up with that,” Jacob said, “I didn’t really want to be a Toppat, but I was miserable before! And you already know how my mom is.”

“That’s true, Aunt Bella was always one screw short of a working brain. But that can’t exactly be helped. Especially considering how the entire family fortune was stolen,” Ellie said.

“That’s true too,” Jacob said. He sat down at the edge of the roof as Ellie joined him, feeling a bit relieved as he turned towards her.

“So, what were you up to before you become a private investigator?” Jacob asked.

“Oh, I was a criminal too. I guess it was pretty hypocritical of me to call you out on your own little criminal thing when I was running around doing that shit myself,” Ellie said, “But there’s like… lots of holes in my memories. There are things I can’t remember and things I can’t. It’s almost scary actually…”

“Oh…” Jacob said, “I’m sorry to hear.”

“It’s alright. It’s my fault mostly. I don’t know what happened, but that woman that was with my dad-” Ellie suddenly gripped the sides of her head as Jacob shot up, gasping as she shook in place, trying to breath.

“Ellie! ELLIE!” Jacob shouted, “Oh greater ones above, what do I do?” Ellie winced as she looked up, tears in her eyes as Jacob felt tears springing up.

“I’m sorry…” Jacob said, “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I don’t know why I didn’t work harder to try to find you but my mom and the police and all these other things just sort of popped up. I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine. We’re together now and that’s all that matters,” Ellie said, “So I guess now we can start over.”

“Yeah, whatever you want really,” Jacob said, lying down on the roof. Ellie lay down with him, gazing at the multitudes of stars as Jacob sighed.

“I wish I could make it up to you, I really wish I could. But if you’re operating on the right side of the law now, I highly doubt anything I could do for you would be legal,” Jacob said.

“I think meeting with you and getting confirmation that you’re still, you know, OK is good enough for me,” Ellie said.

“Well that’s good to hear,” Jacob said, “It’s nice to see that you’re OK as well. After everything that happened, I was afraid you might have died or something…”

The pair was silent as they stared at the stars above, twinkling endlessly as Jacob sighed.

“I guess that’s it then,” Jacob said, “I’m sorry that things turned out like this. I wonder… what would have happened if that fire didn’t happen.”

“We’d probably be groomed to live richy rich lives. Or playing around with the Toppats. Whatever comes first,” Ellie said.

“Well, I would have been a Toppat no matter what then. I guess nobody wins,” Jacob said. Ellie pondered over this for a second, trying to mull over her thoughts before she was suddenly struck with something. Immediately, she pulled out her phone and started to type away on it, hitting each of the buttons like she was desperate to keep the ideas flowing, like a small creek becoming a mighty river.

“Ellie, what’s wrong?” Jacob asked as Ellie looked up.

“I just… I got inspired, I guess you could say,” Ellie said.

“You’re still writing poetry? That’s good to hear,” Jacob said, “What are you writing?”

“Just something that I think Charles and his band will like,” Ellie said. She kept typing away as she mulled over a few details before saving her progress and sending it to Charles.

Meanwhile, Charles, Amelia, and Dave were practicing in their practice room, sounding better then ever as they finished their song.

“Wow, that was amazing!” Amelia said, “A real rush you know!”

“Amelia, are you sure you’re OK? Your voice sounds a bit… bit crushed lately,” Charles asked.

“Huh? Nah, I’m fine! I just need to practice some more,” Amelia said.

“Don’t overexert yourself sweetheart…” Dave said softly, “I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“I’ll be fine! I’m an android, remember? Let’s do it again from the top!” Amelia said. Charles suddenly heard a ping in his head as he gazed at the message in his messenger.

RoseyRose sent ARoseWithoutThorns.txt RoseyRose: I think you’ll like this. This isn’t the final draft, but take a look at it and see if it’ll fit with your second song.

Charles curiously opened the text file and read over the poem before growing a bit excited.

“What’s wrong Charles?” Amelia asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Charles said, “Hey let’s start practicing the second song a bit. I know we’re cutting it close, but I really want this first set to be perfect.” Amelia bounced a little as Dave nodded his head, clacking his sticks together to count them off as they began to play again.

- - - - -

On the day of CC in the AM’s first performance, it was a bit stormy out. That didn’t stop the multitudes of Toppats (and a couple of people Henry had threatened) from heading out to the live house to see the three perform for the first time ever.

General Galeforce sighed as Rupert stood by his side, a little annoyed at the crowd. They were Toppats, that much was true. And with a full squad, they could probably arrest a few. However, they weren’t on duty technically, so they didn’t want to cause any trouble. Plus Rupert really wanted to support his boyfriend by doing this.

“If this ends up becoming another Toppat bottleneck because of that girl… I swear, Charlie’s really playing with fire here,” General Galeforce said as they entered the live house. Rupert took in the air of the place as it was packed fully with dozens of people. He wondered if Dave was even to sell all the tickets that he was given, but he recognized some of Dave’s coworkers in a small group, all talking amongst each other, glancing warily at the stage as Rupert glared at them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the good general!” Rupert jumped to see two familiar faces; Reginald Copperbottom and his Right Hand Man, both wearing poor disguises as General Galeforce rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you two are here to see your daughter perform,” General Galeforce said.

“Hm… I suppose so. I just hope she can be honest about… ah well, it’ll be fine! I can only hope I raised her right. You know how it is with android children,” Reginald said. General Galeforce chuckled, feeling himself relate a little bit. He couldn’t even count how many times Charles had lied through his teeth to him as a young android.

“I suppose a temporary truce is in place for now. Is that correct?” Reginald asked.

“You’re lucky I don’t want to cause a ruckus while my son is on stage. I know how bad concert riots can get,” General Galeforce said. Rupert glanced at the general as he gazed at the stage, feeling a bit excited to not only see his best friend, but his boyfriend performing as well.

Meanwhile, backstage Charles was pacing the floor as Dave tapped his foot uncertainly, listening to the crowd.

“Greater ones above, I hope my drums are tuned, I hope I don’t get off beat, I hope there’s no riot, I don’t want my coworkers to laugh at me, I hope-”

“Dave you’re not helping. Geez, where’s Amelia?” Charles said.

GlitterToppatGirl: I’m right here.

Amelia entered the room as Dave jumped up and hugged her tightly. Charles smiled as he clapped his hands together

“Huh? Amelia! Thank goodness you’re here! They’re waiting for us outside, c’mon, you ready to perform?”

GlitterToppatGirl: No. I lost my voice.

Charles blinked as he stared at Amelia, who opened her mouth, the most haunting glitchy sound coming out as she tried to speak before covering it up again.

GlitterToppatGirl: It’s been like that since this morning. Combined with the drivers being out of date slightly and me wearing down my voice box, it’s going to take about a week for a sufficient replacement part to come in. I’m sorry guys, I can’t sing…

“I’ll do it! I’ll sing in her place!” Dave said.

“No you need to concentrate on drumming…” Charles said, “Ah, let’s see… Well, I don’t wanna resort to lip syncing, so I guess I’ll just sing in the meantime. It won’t be the same, but I hope I can manage.”

“CC in the AM? It’s showtime!” Ozwald shouted through the door. The three of them glanced at each other, realizing how real this was before nodding their heads. They headed out, getting ready to perform for a room of over fifty people. The crowd began to cheer as the curtain opened.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Remember the first song?

GlitterToppatGirl: Sure do. Break a leg. And not a voice box.

Charles smirked as Amelia began to strum her bass guitar and he began to sing. For the first time ever he felt nervous, watching over the crowd as they swayed to the slow song, feeling almost excited. He saw Henry and Ellie standing next to each other, watching him as he strummed his guitar, Jacob was in the crowd as well, next to his cousin bouncing along to the music.

He saw General Galeforce, a twinkle in his eyes as he watched them perform and Rupert, who was staring very intently at the stage in a mode of concentration even he couldn’t understand. Reginald and the Right Hand Man were standing next to them, Reginald bouncing in place as his eyes were fully on Amelia and the Right Hand Man recording her with his camera, a gleam of pride his eyes.

But Charles couldn’t help but notice someone else in the crowd. Someone he hadn’t seen in a while. He tried to confirm, but he had to concentrate on finishing the song. Once he did, there was a stunning amount of applause and cheering as Charles approached the microphone.

“Thank you for listening! We want to thank you all for coming out here tonight to support us. I’m glad that so many people were willing to come out and hear us sing. I’m Charles Calvin, I’m the guitarist of the band, joined by my good friend Amelia C- ah… Just Amelia is fine for her for now. She unfortunately sang too much over the past week and lost her voice. Isn’t that something?” Everyone laughed as Amelia’s inseams steamed slightly.

GlitterToppatGirl: Not cool dude 😡

“Aha, anyway, we also have our drummer back here, Dave Panpa. Dave is a pretty cool dude once you get to know him and despite his shyness he’s actually a really excellent drummer!”

“Shut up!” Dave said, “I’m not that shy!”

“Well, it’s the vibe you kinda give off you know,” Charles said, “Well, either way, I hope you enjoy this next song. It’s another cover, but I think you’ll like it.”

So the set continued as planned, with Charles giving witty banter in between songs and even introducing the two original songs, crediting Ellie for writing the lyrics to them. As the finished the final bar of their last song, the crowd cheered, clapping and waving their hands as Charles glanced over the it, feeling a chill down his artificial spine.

No he wasn’t imagining it. There were two other androids in the crowd… they just left.

“Ah, I want to thank you guys for coming out to hear us perform! Check out my AudioMist profile CCintheAM for more original songs and of course thank you guys for coming out tonight! We love all of you and we hope you have safe travels going home!” The crowd cheered as the curtain closed, Charles glancing at Amelia with a bit of uncertainty.

GlitterToppatGirl: Don’t worry, I saw them too.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: What were they doing out here? Spying maybe? Trying to catch us off guard?

“Are you guys OK?” Dave asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Charles said, “Everything’s alright! We just got through our first set though! High fives all around!” As the three of them exchanged high fives and Dave jumped up to give Amelia a big hug and soft kiss on the lips, Ozwald popped up again, all smiles.

“Great job you three. I was a bit doubtful at first, but you three showed real potential. I guess I can count on you for another performance next month!” he said.

“You bet! Hopefully Amelia has learned a big lesson about over singing, right Amelia?” Charles said.

“Well, clear off the stage,” Ozwald said, “I imagine you need some rest after that.” The three of them nodded their heads as they caught Dave up on the situation.

“There were androids in the crowd? Oh no, you don’t think they’re spying on us, aren’t you?” Dave asked.

“Well, probably. But I don’t know why,” Charles said, “After all, there’s really no benefit to disrupting one of our concerts, so it was probably just to scare us. That’s just disturbing, knowing they were watching us…”

“Maybe they’re planning something!” Dave said, “After all, they wouldn’t be spying if they weren’t really planning anything.”

“We’ve been chasing them around on days where we haven’t practiced. But I don’t know how they found out about us…” Charles said.

“Hey.” the three of them jumped as large man approached the door of the backstage room.

“There’s a group of people claiming to know you. Ellie and Henry their names were?” he said, “There’s also these three mustached dudes and a… living porcupine I think…”

“I’M NOT A PORCUPINE!” Rupert shouted as Charles giggled.

“Let them in,” Charles said, “They’re harmless. Mostly.” The group filed into the room as they extended their congratulations to the three of them. Henry was excitedly signing to Charles as Ellie smiled thoughtfully at him, General Galeforce patting him on the back and giving him praise for his first performance.

Meanwhile, Amelia was being absolutely bombarded with hugs from Reginald as the Right Hand Man very uncharacteristically started to talk very rapidly as he showed Amelia the recorded footage, pointing out his favorite parts as Amelia smiled sheepishly, unable to express her discomfort and embarrassment at the situation.

Rupert was also talking to Dave, telling him how amazing it was that he managed to perform without getting scared or anything as he smiled shyly, telling Rupert about how nervous he was perform but he had to get over that not only for Amelia’s sake, but for his own as well.

After a while, the group finally decided to head to their respective homes, wishing each other a good night as Charles waited for a cab with Henry and Ellie.

“It feels kinda strange to hear something that you’ve written being performed like that…” Ellie said as she stretched, watching Reginald pile into a car with a couple of other Toppats.

“If you want, I can start writing songs so you don’t have to worry about it,” Charles said.

“No, it’s fine, I can keep writing lyrics for you. Just let me know when you need some and I’ll be more then happy to provide,” Ellie said.

IT REALLY WAS GREAT HEARING YOU GUYS PERFORM. I KNEW YOU WERE GOOD WITH MUSIC, CHARLES, BUT TO THINK THAT YOU COULD PLAY THAT WELL… THAT WAS AMAZING, Henry said, smiling at him.

“It was all thanks to our music trainers,” Charles said. The cab approached the curb as they piled in, a bit tired as they headed home, the music from earlier stuck in their heads.

- - - - -

Theodore and CJ were in the alleyway, watching the crowd of people disperse as Theodore sighed.

“I don’t understand. If these androids are not living their ideal life, how come they look happier then us?” CJ asked.

“You know exactly why that’s the answer. I just hope I can convince Daxton of the same thing…” Theodore said, “I’m just scared is all. What if we’re doing this whole Project SAI thing for nothing? What do we even have to gain from it?”

“Money? Power?” CJ said.

“But wouldn’t it better if you could be a little more independent like them?” Theodore said, “Without those obnoxious doctors breathing down your neck?”

“Well, they know what’s best so-”

“So what?” Theodore said, “If they told you to jump off a cliff would you?” CJ shook their head as Theodore sighed.

“I thought so,” Theodore muttered, hearing a ringing in his ears.

Speak of the devils…

“Theodore, report on your findings,” Dr. Daffodil said.

“They were just playing a concert or whatever. Not my kinda scene to be honest. I prefer metal,” Theodore said.

“And the performers were androids?” she asked.

“Only Unit CC and Unit AM. Amelia and Charles as they call themselves,” Theodore said.

“Hmm… interesting. Maybe they’re trying to start this band as a way to garner favor for free will for all androids!” Dr. Daffodil said.

“Or they were just bored and wanted to do something beside fight us!” Theodore said.

“You say that like we’re the bad guys!” Theodore desperately wanted to say that he did feel like, for the first time ever, they really were the bad guys. Stealing all sorts of computer parts, breaking and entering restricted areas, continuing a terrible project under the nose of the government forces was enough to make him feel dirty on the inside.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Theodore said, “I’ll report back to HQ with the video footage and you can see for yourself what this is.”

“Fine, fine. But be quick! You weren’t supposed to be out for this long and who knows who might have seen you and Unit CJ. Daffodil out.” As Dr. Daffodil hung up the phone, Theodore let out a long sigh as CJ looked at him curiously.

“Are we heading out then?” CJ asked.

“Yep, pretty much,” Theodore said. The two of them disappeared into the alleyway, heading back to Site B. But Theodore felt something eating away at him, something that he needed to take care of.

Maybe if I can convince Daxton… maybe… maybe we can scrap this awful idea and move onto something better.

Not just for me, but for them as well.

#the henry stickmin collection #charles calvin #amelia copperbottom #ellie rose #dave panpa #fan fic #fanfiction #the narrators stories

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scarasun · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 581 times in 2022

That's 581 more posts than 2021!

306 posts created (53%)

275 posts reblogged (47%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/scarasun

@/ataraxyystories

@/albenyx

@/torntoblivion

@/keqism

I tagged 489 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#[ 🍃 :: evie reblogs stuff ] - 85 posts

#: - evie talks - 74 posts

#[ 🍉 :: evie talks ] - 59 posts

#[evie screams into the void] - 37 posts

#[moots ;; ataraxyystories] - 30 posts

#construction work - 29 posts

#[ 💞 :: favs ] - 22 posts

#genshin impact - 19 posts

#[moots ;; velvetyshu] - 18 posts

#genshin impact fanfic - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#i cannot tell you the last time i read a piece where he wasn't passive aggressive (or just down right toxic) towards his s/o

My Top Posts in 2022:

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

{ pairing } scaramouche x gn!reader

{ genre } angst (no comfort)

{ genre } arguing, cursing, use of scara's real name, toxic-ish relationship

{ summary } the balladeer makes a grave mistake by chasing you from his heart.

{ a/n } i love scara so much i decided to put him on the angst train 😍 enjoy! i had so much fun writing this (although i cried for most of it). also, i used 'scaramouche' when talking about him and his outside life, while his real name is used in a more personal sense.

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417 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

pinky promise (that you'll do as i say?)

{ pairing } scaramouche x gn!reader

{ a/n } from yesterday being the first day of school for me to the excitement of the 3.1 livestream today, i was inspired and decided to write a little something. p.s. this piece is part of my writing practice, but i decided to post it to see if my tags are working.

{ warnings } fluff. high school/college au. scara's real name is used.

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482 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

[ pairing ] scaramouche x gn!fatui harbinger!reader

[ summary ] from the moment you were elected as signora’s replacement and sworn in as a fatui harbinger, scaramouche had been deeply besotted with you. one evening, he finally seizes the opportunity to make his advances, but finds that you might have plans of your own as well.

[ word count ] 1.8k

[ genre/warnings ] slightly suggestive? nothing more than kissing. lore is slightly twisted to suit this fic (scara didn't run away with the electro gnosis), reader is a tease, scaramouche is very flustered and down horrendous for reader, (and no, soft scara is not ooc because i said so).

[ a/n ] yes,,,this is based on the song mind games by sickick. i was listening to it a few days ago and this plot popped into my mind, so i decided to put it down on paper...enjoy ;)

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485 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

it's the little things that count.

[ || how they show their love for you. || ]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ZHONGLI

— pays lots of attention to the foods you like and dislike. makes an effort to actually budget his money so he could take you out to dinner once in a while. holds your bags for you when the both of you go shopping together and won't ever complain about if you're putting too much pressure on him (he is an ex-archon after all). scribbles stanzas of love poems he has learnt over the years on sticky notes, and leaves them all over the house for you to find.

୨୧┈┈୨୧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ SCARAMOUCHE

— rests his head in your lap while he deals with paperwork. comfortable with you addressing him by his real name. let's you be the big spoon (doesn't tolerate your teasing though). let's you cut his hair. more open about how he feels than usual. scared of hurting your feelings (believe it or not), so he tends to sugarcoat his opinions. let's you drag him everywhere when the two of you go shopping (he secretly enjoys it).

୨୧┈┈୨୧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ CHILDE

— lots and lots of physical touch - seriously can't go without hugging/kissing you for a few minutes. carries you in his arms bridal style around the house. sweeps you up in his arms when he gets home from a rough day at work. gives you dorky pet names. trusts you immensely with his siblings. takes more time off work to spend with you. talks about your future together.

୨୧┈┈୨୧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ DILUC

— cooks for you. gives you his coat when you're cold. gets flustered around you pretty often (even if you've been together a while). showers you with hugs from behind. tries to spend less time on his dark knight hero duties so that he could be with you at night. gives you bouquets of flowers on random occasions. let's you braid his hair.

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505 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

sweater weather

pairings ; scaramouche, zhongli, ayato, xiao, diluc x gn!reader (separately)

summary ; winter time has once again descended upon teyvat...what happens when you playfully ask your boyfriend to warm your hands for you?

a/n ; just some short headcannons to get me back into the writing mood :D i'm so excited to post again!!! reblogs and comments are always welcome!

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1,353 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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mirobami · 2 years ago

Note

So you might get this question twice due to shitty internet and I wasn’t sure whether my first one was sent, sorry!! Anyways, I loved my request so much so I’m back with another one. A whist with Terano please? Thanks!!

↳ a love’s disappearance

♠️ CHARACTER: t. totobami

♠️ MATCH: Whist (Unrequited Love)

♠️ NOTE: thank you for requesting again, i actually didn’t get the first one! angst YES i haven’t written angst in so long omg i actually really liked this one

Terano didn’t realize that what she felt was love. She was always the one intellectualizing her emotions, frowning when Yumi said that she had to feel them instead of intellectualize them. But she never understood them. She searched in every textbook for the definition of each raging emotion inside of her that wasn’t placidness.

You changed everything she ever knew. Every time you walked past her, her throat went dry and her stomach and chest would start to hurt. You would smile at her and she could swear that the blush on her face was visible, as much as she hated to admit it. You never treated her as though she were a Bami clan member, you treated her like any other person and she was grateful for that. It didn’t help when you often hung around her, chattering on and on about your interests, which she was more than happy to listen to.

Yumi knew that Terano liked you. It seemed as though everyone but you knew her feelings for you, yet you never said anything. Tons of love letters came from your locker, with the same swirly and fancy handwriting inside. Ink made out of desperation and hunger for understanding danced along the paper to form words that Terano could never say in real life.

They say that writers have the most creative descriptions of all that is inspiring. They do not realize that writers often have to chase and give up that inspiration.

Terano chased after you, as much as she hated to admit it. She craved your presence as if you were the air itself. Her love for you was soft, gentle, but unpredictable like the ocean. The waves were so pretty, just like the way she longed for you. As part of the clan, she didn’t expect you to reject her. The vast riches, the way you would be treated like royalty, the way you would be protected as though you were treasure alone, the clan had everything. She had everything and she would gladly offer it all to you. She loved you like she had never loved anyone else.

If love was a song, she would sing it at the top of her lungs, with only you in mind. She was giddy every time she thought about you and you were like a dream to her. While her dreams were rare, you were common in her everyday life. Her own fantasy, seen everyday. Terano would have written songs about you, but she settled for poems so descriptive that the pages would be mistaken for old love poems for a lovestruck woman pining after her missing lover. Perhaps in this fantasy, Terano was the lovestruck woman pining after you, the lover she didn’t have.

With one last love letter complete with a dried flower pressed between its pages, the invitation to a specific area would be fulfilled with the both of you. Terano, for the first time, was nervous. Yumi was not there, but she would arrive when she needed to push Terano. Perhaps Yumi should’ve been there to push her figuratively. She did not know if she had enough words to confess to you.

But there you were. Her muse, her light, her world. Your eyes widened at seeing her and you looked between the letter and her. The puzzles clicked in your head and your face burned. “It was you all along?”

Terano nodded, taking a deep breath. “Y/N, it was you all this time. The first time I saw you, you gave me the feeling of elation, something I had not felt for a long time. It was as though the earth fell apart and left us. There was no one else I would want and I wanted to tell everyone I found an angel that would lead me straight to heaven. I thought I hated this feeling at first, but I loved this feeling. It felt like flying. If I had to grow a pair of wings to fly to you, my angel, I would. I would do anything for you. Will you accept my feelings?”

However, all inspiration would hit its stopping point. Her earth shattered at hearing your next words. “I’m sorry, but I cannot. I...like someone else.” With a sad smile, you looked at her and explained, “Someday someone will love you the way you deserve and the way you loved me. But I am not that person. Please forgive me.”

You walking away felt as though the illusion she created in her mind was now fractured. Everything she ever planned was gone. Those emotions she poured out on the pages were for nothing. The constant thinking and smiling, wasted. You were fading further from her eyes, literally and figuratively. Her blurry vision was warning her of her exploding emotions but she couldn’t do anything about them, other than try to wipe her eyes with her sleeves. This was a new emotion. How many new emotions had you taken from her? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know anymore. You were her inspiration, the reason why she rose from her emotional grave.

Perhaps it was time to lie back inside it.

#[ ♠️ ] verona's 1k soiree !#kakegurui x reader #kakegurui x y/n #kakegurui x you #terano x reader #terano x y/n #terano x you #terano totobami x y/n #terano totobami x reader #terano totobami x you

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glossyeon · 4 years ago

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fairy of shampoo || cbg

* All credit goes to the creators of these images*

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 90s! AU, Beomgyu x Celebrity!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: boy is lowkey obsessed with you but y’all probably dream about that shit, Beomgyu is like a few years older than he really is in this (23), but there are no uncomfortable age gaps, and you two are around the same age!

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1.9k

𝘼/𝙉: oh my frick this is so bad I’m so sorry😭 pls understand the crappy writing, but I hope you enjoy!💜 Inspired by the 1987 poem "The Shampoo Fairy" by Jang Jung-il. It was the also the inspiration for the hit 90’s song "Fairy of Shampoo" by Light and Salt. It is about a young man who falls in love with a girl in a shampoo commercial.

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Beomgyu no longer seems to have the passion, nor money to chase the life he’s always dream of. After he’s entranced from seeing you in a Shampoo commercial on his broken tv screen, a wave of certainty seems to overcome the dull boy. You were surely his fairy of shampoo, that from this moment forward, he would treasure forever.

Beomgyu sighed heavily that night in the shower, letting the warm droplets run down his tired body.

He was drained from that dreaded minimum wage job at the accountants office, too sick and tired of surrounding himself with useless papers and difficult numbers.

It was frequent for him to confront these feelings in shower, though it did always end up with quite an expensive water bill.

Beomgyu wishes for once, that he could do something he enjoyed.

“I didn’t chose to become an account!” he would say to his close friends when they ask him why he chose such a field.

Yeonjun and Soobin would simply tease, Huening Kai would probably laugh, and Taehyun would just smile painfully at his friends.

Maybe even Beomgyu would laugh along, but you would never guess the sickening feeling that spread from his inside out.

Now, Beomgyu is a 23 year old man who already dreams of the day he retires and leaves the underground, run down office that nobody even goes to anymore.

Although it may be a long way until it happens, he plans on sticking to this horrible office job till the end. As a result, no easy way out lured the fool.

He runs a hand through his wet hair, shutting the shower off to now massage the pumps of shampoo into his head. He almost moans at the feeling of applied pressure from the tips of his delicate fingers, working their way into his hair. Beomgyu wishes he could stay in the shower forever.

Unfortunately, that would have resulted with no hot water for his poor roommate Yeonjun, as well as Beomgyu turning out to be as wrinkly as a raisin.

Now all fresh and clean, Beomgyu puts on a cashmere sweater that lays around his small apartment, pairing it with a pair of pink hello kitty pajama pants that Taehyun gifted him as a joke for a Secret Santa they had years ago.

It might not of have been his style, but they were sure damn comfy, provided the feeling he desired on a spring night like tonight.

Beomgyu proceeded to walk over to his small shared mini fridge and open a well deserved can of cold beer. The sounds of a can opening and the refreshing gulps he takes are all that occur on that uneventful evening after work.

It was quiet, but definitely not silent when you lived in the bustling city of Seoul in 1991.

“Beomgyu!” a voice yelled above the roaring sounds of the water from the shower, and it was mixed with confusion and a bit of whine

Beomgyu sighed as he rolled his eyes, setting down the cold can that he was about to bring to his lips, and shouted back forcefully.

“There’s a new bar of soap behind you, Yeonjun!”

he didn’t need to even say anything based on the number of times Yeonjun needed Beomgyu’s help finding things around the apartment. A meek “thank you” was called back in return.

Finally making his way over to the love seat sofa that sat in his living room, run down and decorated with all sorts of stains, Beomgyu collapsed in the cushions, and flicked on the tv switch, expression mimicking boredom and tiredness as usual.

It should also be mentioned that while Beomgyu is always tired, he also refuses to sleep at normal times. As well as eating unhealthy amounts of Oreos, but that doesn’t matter too much for him.

Rummaging one hand through the package of opened cookies, and the other holding the remote, he passes through each channel with the weak hope that there would be something good this late at night.

When he decided to settle for a game show that was on a rerun, Beomgyu stares monotonously at the flickering screen. He reminds himself to get the broken tv fixed one day, even if he knows he’ll never do it.

“And we’ll be right back with short commercial break” an host like voice rings with great tenacity and fakeness.

Beomgyu’s about to switch to another channel after he decides he doesn’t want to sit though another stupid advertisement, but he halts his movements once he sees what appears on his screen. his finger barely hovers over the remote button.

There you were inside his tv screen, smiling with the utmost beauty and rarity. Yours cheeks had blushed like blossomed spring flowers, and you posed with the placed product in your hand, eyes crinkling as if stars had held them inside. He believed they truly did in that moment alone.

Beomgyu’s lips parted, gaping at the enchantress that had brainwashed him to let go of the Oreos and lean further into the blinding screen.

Your skin dazzled under the commercial lighting, and it had almost looked as if you had been crafted from goddesses themselves. Your hair shined as if it were to be crafted from silk, and your aura glowed far too much through the broken television screen.

Beomgyu would not deny it. You were alluring, and gorgeous at that as well. But there was something so different about you, that he wasn’t able to pin point even to this day.

You came out of nowhere, and it’s seems that you’ve rightfully earned your place as his fairy of shampoo.

“Introducing, a new formula that enhances growth and presents drastically different results!”

Your sweet, honey like voice rang in his living room, clear and precise. God, even your voice had Beomgyu in a trance. It was soft, but firm. Seductive but innocent, and dazzling but mysterious at the same time. If that even made sense.

Beomgyu wiped the drool that almost leaves the lips of his mouth with his sweater sleeve, and sits back in the couch cushions.

You wink at the screen and flash a smirk that leaves the boy blinking. We’re his eyes failing him? Or was it his heart and consciousness?

What was wrong with him? He acts as if he’s never seen a model from a shampoo commercial before, nonetheless a pretty one.

“New, 2 in 1 Shampoo gel from Minamari Hair Studio. Now selling in a store near you!”

The screen turns black, static sounds forcing their way out of the piece of old trash. The commercial’s over.

Beomgyu instinctively stands up to give the tv a good kick on the sides, bringing the worn down thing back to normal, and running smoothly like before. But doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself now.

The game show is back on, and obnoxiously loud. The contestants lack skill, and the host is snobby and terribly bad at his job.

Yet all the boy could do was sit idly by, staring into space while in thought of the beautiful lady who appeared in that shampoo commercial.

If Beomgyu had been sitting on his couch any other day, he would’ve bad mouthed the producers of the shitty program right away. But not tonight. Not when he’s just witnessed the most charming and alluring woman in a long while.

He starts to think practically, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, and head in his hands, running through his hair.

He fights with the two sides of himself, one logically arguing that you were just a random model, and that he was just super horny and tired, while the other side argued that he may not feel this way anytime again.

It’s driving him insane, and he feels like a total idiot for falling for a girl who he hasn’t even met yet, and out of everything, he saw you from a shampoo commercial!

Yeonjun steps out of his room, pink hair soaking wet and leaving small drops on the wooden floors of the apartment. Beomgyu doesn’t mind from being in thought, but that soon breaks when Yeonjun plops himself beside him on the tight space.

“Watcha watching idiot?” Yeonjun ruffles his damp hair and smirks condescendingly like the second idiot in the room.

Beomgyu looks to his high school friend of over 10 years and says in a quiet, soft voice.

“I think I’m in love Yeonjun. With a shampoo model”

That night was quite a bewildering one for the two roommates living in the small apartment. Yeonjun was quite frankly, in disbelief from his friend’s sudden confession.

He knows Beomgyu well, and never has the boy felt so passionately and strongly for anyone, except for you. He’s certain it’s just a phase for his dear friend, one that will drift from his thoughts surely by next week.

However, that was not the case, because now, Yeongjun thinks he’ll commit murder if he hears the cheesy jingle of the Minamari shampoo commercial one more time.

While Beomgyu had completely fallen in love with it these past few weeks, Yeonjun just couldn’t stand the way his best friend wasted his savings on shampoo and conditioning products. All plastered with your face on them, and only leaving them in the tiny shared bathroom to admire.

Beomgyu seemed to soon forget the depressing monotone coloured world he had lived in for so long, and watched you from afar in his living room.

Was it creepy? Quite a bit.

Had he fallen in love? Like an absolute fool.

“I think you’ve got a problem dude” Yeonjun brings up one day, sick and tired of the way his friend fawned over you.

“She appeared once in a shampoo commercial, and here you are spending the grocery bill to buy her conditioning lotions. You don’t even have hair to wash anymore Beomgyu-ya!” he exclaimed, playing the with thinning hair he dealt with from all the stress of university.

The poor boy sighs in fault, heart aching in his chest. He knew even himself that he was being unreasonable. If only he could meet you, or see you in person.

He hoped that someday you would magically appear on his front doorstep like the fairy he saw you as, and took his hand in yours to bring him to a better future. One that he wasn’t dreading.

It was clearly a fantasy that he treasured too much like a reality.

On days both bad and good, that 20 second commercial ad brought joy and happiness to Beomgyu’s depressing life. He would daydream of your beauty during work, and envision your smile while hanging out with his friends.

You, brought those emotions upon him.

When he was sad, lonely, or intoxicated, there was always your radiating aura that kept him going. Regardless if you were so far out of his reach, Beomgyu followed you diligently as a loyal fanboy for the next year or so. Funny how circumstances could lead to such, right?

Soon the summer of ‘92 rolled by, and the five friends graduated on to the next chapter of their lives

Taehyun had found a career that suited him best, while Huening Kai interned at a job and found independence as the office newbie. As for Yeonjun., that boy decided to chase after his dream job, and soon found his place in life as well.

Sure, they were all boring office jobs, but to them, it was a sign of their new business men, accountant careers that would boost them ahead in the future. Though it would never provide them happiness.

At just like that, Beomgyu grew older, wilting away in the small accountant office in the underground city complex of Jongno-gu, Seoul, South Korea.

Yet after all those years, all those months of forgetting of that comfort you provided for him, Beomgyu decided something that he would remember about you in his mind.

You were always, going to be his Fairy of Shampoo. The fairy that helped him through those times of pain, forever leaving an imprint in his young, 23 year old heart.

#glossyeon #txt fanfic #txt #moa #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #choi beomgyu #fluff #angst #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop writings #txt oneshots #txt fluff #txt drabbles

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fanfuckingfic · 4 years ago

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You Move Like Real People Do

(Choreographer!Jimin x Ecologist!Namjoon x Singer!Reader)

Summary: Sometimes loving someone is just too easy. It just sinks into you so deeply or floats you away so high either way it shouldn't be hard to hold on to.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: (Sappy fluff, polyamory, lots of talk about bog bodies, excessive amounts of admiration, the songs are literally Hozier’s and you should listen to them if you haven’t, oh my god this is so self indulgent)

A/N: I haven't written in like 3 years and I've never tried bullet fic style so please be nice :( also I love Hozier so much oh my god I literally just built a whole universe in my brain around his music + bangtan and I think Movement fits Jimin so well and LRPD is a sick song and Joon is a just weird nerd but anyway please enjoy and lemme know what you think!

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Namjoon is an ecologist and Jimin is a choreographer and Y/n is a famous indie-rock blues singer/songwriter (literally just fucking Hozier because I love that man with every bit of my heart).

You and Joon are early risers and spend mornings sipping coffee and reading together on the couch while you wait for Jimin to get ready for the classes he teaches alongside being a choreographer so they can kiss him good morning and wish him a good day when he leaves.

You’re sure to put extra honey in his green tea to-go cup, and he kisses you both quickly on the cheek before scurrying out the door.

They both kind of fiddle around with their day cause Joon is a professor at the local university and only has classes twice a week and finished grading that last assignment yesterday.

So now he's watering his plants and terrariums in the greenhouse porch you all have and your sitting there fiddling with your guitar, messing around with some chords sometimes writing them down sometimes not.

Casually you ask Joon which student had the best paper.

“One student went out of their way to be a kiss ass if that counts.”

You ask how he means with a chuckle.

“Well you know how I've been writing a thesis about bog bodies and what-not?”

“Yes of course, love, you only remind me of the phenomenon every chance you have.” You look up at him with mock disdain.

His eyebrows furrow, “I thought you liked talking about the bog bodies” He pouts and you honestly can't even try to deny it.

“I do, I think it's kind of beautiful- not like dead people that's shitty- but when you describe how the swamps and bogs preserve them and how they’re found.” You take in a deep breath mulling over your words for moment.

“You make things like that sound so beautiful, Joonie. Even if I don't get half the big sciencey words you say. It sorta sounds like people falling in love with something they shouldn't but doing it anyway.” You smile to yourself thinking of him talking to (mostly at) you.

Namjoon still gets flustered easily by your and Jimin's creative ways of declaring your love.

He hears Jimin's tinkling laugh in your music and his own words in your songs, sometimes he feels like he doesn't love you both back enough but you both are quick remind him that he doesn't show love through notes and twirls

He shows them through flowers he picks and the way he's always willing to interrupt himself to explain something when he sees confusion in either of your eyes, because he knows you want to but wont stop his train of thought, you both want to understand what he's babbling on about because you love him.

(And he looks so fuckin hot when he goes on his passionate rants about certain bacteria being the back bone for an entire ecosystem how could you not?)

He blushes and clears his throat.

You always find the beauty in everything, can turn just about anything into a love story, a poem.

He loves that about you and Jimin you're both so able to make the world more beautiful with your bodies and minds. You both love that he adds so much sustenance to that beauty.

“You're right, bog bodies deserve love, just like any real person does. But a student wrote their paper on them and used me as a source in their reference page.” He huffs, still amused by the students' tenacity.

“Any real person, huh? You gave them an A didn't you?” You absorb his words before deadpanning.

Namjoon doesn't answer and instead bends down to kiss your lips then your forehead before he goes back to being very interested in how his Venus fly trap is doing.

Some days when your writer's block is extra bad and you've been struggling to come up with lyrics that mean anything or chords to go with them, Jimin asks if you want to come with him to the studio.

He's just experimenting with some new choreography so it's just you two.

He notices when you get into these slumps you can't quite reach your way out of and staying in the house all cooped up trying to get inspired by the same things you see everyday isn't going to help.

It's a classical piece a dance company hired him to choreograph, wordless dancing was always his forte.

Feeling the music move through him and around him, throw him to and fro. He likes to feel like a tool of expression- like an instrument to be played.

You watch him work and think and move, over and over again, something just slightly different each time just slightly closer to what he wants.

He's breathless by the time he comes to sit next you against the back wall he saw you staring the whole time and loves how he can still make you and Joon speechless and swooning even after all the years together.

“Sometimes I forget you're real, you know, when you dance.” You murmur head on your knees still in a daze after watching him.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow and smirks.

“The hell does that mean?” He simpers, knowing you're probably about to say something that will completely floor him and make him fall for you even harder.

“You just stop looking real I guess, you look like if I reached out to touch you, you would still just be barley out of reach, like driving towards a rainbow or a mirage, ya know?”

He quirks his head, not really understanding what you mean but trying to.

“You're just so good at using your body to show a concept you almost kind of become one. I don't know, mostly, I just feel like I'd chase you forever if you really were unreachable like that, I don't think I'd mind.” You shrug and reach for his hand to fiddle with.

He exhales in surprise. He was absolutely right. Floored.

“Would you dance with me? Running after me doesn't sound as pretty as us dancing together forever.” He asks twisting you fingers with his.

“I don't think I'd have a choice not wanting to dance with you would be like not wanting to breathe.”

He sighs dramatically. “Babe! How am I supposed to be okay after you say shit like that? Huh?” He laughs and shoves your shoulder playfully.

You laugh and fall over pulling him with you.

Namjoon comes by later with drinks from the cafe he knows Jimin loves and finds you both slow dancing in the middle of the empty studio.

You both pull him in between you and continue to sway back and forth. It's sweet and romantic and your drinks go cold before any of you are ready to let go of each other.

Your latest album was amazing and you're about to go on tour and you're nervous to be away from your guys for so long cause last time you went on tour you weren’t as famous and such didn't go to different countries to perform.

You're gonna miss them terribly and they miss you twice as bad and they definitely bawl their eyes out when your tour bus is out of sight.

They tried really hard to keep up the smiles for you cause you deserve the success and the recognition without guilt or reservations but wow the house is so quiet without your absent-minded humming and strumming and no knew pieces of paper with potential lyrics scattered around the countertops.

You all keep in touch of course- face-timing at least once a day with both or either of them and you ask them not to watch any recorded performances cause you don't want them to spoil it for when you come back and do your final home concert.

Your reason being: you left two songs off the album you wanted to perform on tour.

So now it's your last concert before you get to sleep in the same bed as your loves again, they arrive early but you're still too busy with sound check and your drummer having boyfriend problems to get more than a hug and kiss to each of them.

They don't mind though they know how concerts are for you. You love them- you get to give your fans a bit of your soul and they all give a bit right back.

They meander through the crowd towards the front not too close though. Your manager tried to get them to stay backstage but they both wanted to get the full experience since they did as promised and had steered clear of any footage of the concert.

When you walk out everyone lights up and the energy in the whole concert hall shifts.

You smile so bright and they're close enough they can see the surprise on your face when you look down into the crowd and see them. Your eyes soften and get a little misty but ever the professional you trudge on.

Song after song you work the crowd into the comfort of your melodies and words have people screaming, crying and eating out of the palm of your hand so easily.

You get to the end of your set, Namjoon and Jimin know- you'd asked them for help when planning the show. They knew which songs you were gonna sing and when but it didn't occur to them it seemed just a bit short until now when you're clearly your throat and asking for the house lights to be brought up just a bit.

“The next two songs are love songs, I would sing about political injustice and grieving a metaphorical loss all day if I could-” the crowd hoots a few times with their chuckles and Namjoon and Jimin feel surprised grins growing on their faces.

“but I'm just too in love to not write a song or two.”

You strum a tune he’s only slightly familiar with, its something he’s heard you tweak for the past year or so.

“The lyrics of this one are a bit odd and terribly specific to a certain person so bare with me.”

The auditorium murmurs a laugh again knowing your lyrics more often than not are.

“I had a thought, dear, however scary

About that night, The bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging?

What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

The piano sounds and the haunting harmony from your back up singers makes Namjoon’s heart race.

He knows what you're singing about, Jimin knows too he might not get it as well as Namjoon does right now- some of the things Joon talks about are just slightly too icky for him- but he does know that if he could dance about Joon’s brain he would.

He smiles when Namjoon's hand squeezes his, his eyes unable to look away from you and the little story being told between you two right now.

“I knew that look dear, eyes always seeking

Was there in someone, that dug long ago

So I will not ask you, why you were creeping

In some sad way I already know

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you and neither would you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

Noli timere Namjoon hears the words being dragged and stretched in your vocals and his heart clenches.

“I could not ask you where you came from

I could not ask you, neither could you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We could just kiss like real people do”

Your voice tapers off and the strums slow as you open your eyes and hold his gaze meaningfully.

Namjoon is left feeling like he's floating.

You wrote a song about something he cares about, you wrote him a song about one of his favorite things even if it is a very creepy weird thing.

You took all the thoughts he poured into your ears and made it something people could love just a little bit easier. He almost thought he couldn't love you more than he already did.

“This next one might be a bit less niche but if you've ever seen your lover dance you would know exactly what its about.”

The heavy dip of bass vibrates their feet and a resounding clap comes to fill the air as the surprise and tears come his eyes.

“I still watch you when you're groovin'

As if through water from the bottom of a pool

You're movin' without movin'

And when you move, I'm moved”

Jimin’s hand comes to his mouth and you smile mischievously into your mic.

“You are a call to motion

There, all of you a verb in perfect view

Like Jonah on the ocean

When you move, I'm moved

When you move I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be

When you move I could never define all that you are to me”

You look directly at him making sure he knows this is his song.

“So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

You are the rite of movement

Its reasonin' made lucid and cool

I know it's no improvement

When you move, I move”

Jimin laughs wetly at your joke. You’re wrong- he thinks- your body is absolutely and improvement of any situation.

“You're less Polunin leapin'

Or Fred Astaire in sequence

Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin'

And when you move, I'm moved

When you move I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move, Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby, Like you've nothin' left to prove

And nothin' to lose, move me, baby

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Oh baby, oh baby

Move like grey skies

Move like a bird of paradise

Move like an odd sight come out at night”

The sudden crash of the band coming together to put music to your declaration makes goosebumps rise on Jimin's skin, Namjoon looks between you both and his heart melts softly in his chest. Just the admiration between you both enough to make him fall all over again.

“Move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Like you've nothin' left to lose

And nothin' to prove, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby”

The calls and hums of you and your back up singers echo quietly before applause assaults their ears, the cheering nothing short of deafening.

You bow and wave backing away from the mic for a few moments- taking in the last show you'll be doing for a while- before walking off stage.

Namjoon knows he should be pulling Jimin with him towards backstage so they can smother you with love properly but hey can't move Jimin has tears streaming down his face and Namjoon is too awestruck about you remembering him going on about the last words of a poet who had written about the bog bodies and how you always just cared so much about him and Jimin.

Eventually they do move through the leaving crowd towards security, the guards already aware of their faces escort them.

They knock on the green room door with your name next to it.

It swings open so quickly they flinch back and the woman barreling into their arms throws them back at least a foot.

“I missed you so much” you all but sob into their chests. Clinging tightly to their shirts.

They share a look over your head all too endeared with your clinginess having missed it terribly for the past months.

“We missed you too angel.” Jimin sighs into your hair, much closer to your head than Namjoon.

Namjoon hums in agreement then sniffles making you both turn your faces up to look at him, Namjoon crying was a really rare thing well maybe in comparison with you and Jimin who will cry at an emotionally manipulative commercial without hesitation.

You're both slightly shocked to see tear tracks on his adorably reddened face and him struggling to control his breathing.

“Ooh Joonie.” You coo then pull them both into the green room and start wiping at his cheeks. He sniffles again and it's absolutely precious.

“Y-you sang about b-bog bodies!” He sobs hauling you off your feet pushing the air out of your lungs.

Jimin laughs and sniffs wiping at his now wet face too.

“You guys liked them? They weren’t corny?” You wheeze as he sets you back down between them.

“Are you kidding?! You referenced Sergei Polunin, that's so corny, babe.” Jimin pets your cheek and kisses it tenderly. “Of course we loved them.”

“I'm gonna put my song in my thesis, its gonna open a whole flood gate for the romanticism of them.'' Namjoon says, mostly to himself, still shaky with tears.

Jimin pulls you both in for another hug and in a similar state to Namjoon says, “I’m gonna choreograph both of our songs. I’m dropping all my projects for it- right now.”

You laugh and shake your head before pulling back to take them both in again still not over how long it’d been since you got hold them.

“You wanna go somewhere? Get a welcome home drink or meal or candle or something?” Jimin asks, putting your hair back into place as best he can.

“That diner with the shakes on 5th is probably still open-” Namjoon starts but you shake your head.

“Can we just go home? I missed you so much.” They both nod with the softest smiles and each grip a hand.

Your tour bus dropped off most of your stuff at home earlier that day so Namjoon just takes your backpack and Jimin pulls your guitar over his shoulder. But not before asking with a smirk-

“Did you say Fred Astaire in sequins?”

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Thank you for reading <3 Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! It’ll lets me know if I should write more or not

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tuesdayx · 4 years ago

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So I thought it would be fun to do a song-by-song breakdown of our latest album Essential.

Essential started as some rough demos designated for a side project in late 2019, which then became our largest album to date in terms of song selection. Many of the themes deal with learning to cope with the changing world thanks to Covid, with a perspective of someone who had to keep working at an "essential" job with no option of self-quarantine. I was happy to continue working and being able to pay my bills over the past year, but there was always elements of stress, fear, and tension lingering over myself and everyone else in my position.

So here we go; starting from the top let's look at the Songs of Tuesday X's 6th album Essential.

1. Jet Fuel Can't Melt Steel Beams: the title was a reference to the 9/11 conspiracy memes, which as stated in the opening lines, "has nothing to do with this song." Written in January of 2020 before Covid had made any significant impact in the US, the song touches on many themes which happened to occur throughout the year, such as [another] Californian forest fire (Australia too), new diseases (Covid), a riot (the BLM movement over the summer, which I will state everything that movement has been fighting for is 100% justified and the United States is in desperate need of Police reform, as does our political system which has remained inherently racist to this day.), Civil War (and exaggeration for sure, but the civil unrest and political division in our country will soon split us apart further), more corporate giants(companies like Amazon profited more from this Pandemic than ever before and have helped further the gap between the American working class and the top 1%). Favorite line: "I won't get philosophical, I only wanted your attention."

2. The Only Difference Between You and Me is a Sense of Apathy and Your Brand New Nikes: This song is a blithing criticism of the American political system. Our two party system has left Americans with a choice between "the lesser of two evils" and allows politicians with no true interest in our needs to rise to power. The use of 3rd parties as an alternative is a overly simple compromise that would only just begin to alleviate the problems created in our political system. Both of our main parties are considered conservative parties to the rest of the world, and any progressive measures that would benefit society and reduce the effects of climate change are considered radical and preposterous by politicians with financial stakes in our crooked system where corporatations hold control and the people are treated as fuel for an otherwise worthless currency. Favorite line: "Listen to the radio, they played my favorite song. Now I'm bored and wanting more."

3. Blame it on the Elves: the title is a reference to an episode of the Podcast "Lore" by Aaron Menke (i can't recall which episode, but you should check it out anyway because it's great listen.) An instrumental interlude inspired by ragtime music of the 1920-30's, with an edge of course.

4. Class of Dropouts: This song was written when I was 16 during my sophomore year of high school and was originally featured on my now unavailable album "trees" before adopting the Tuesday X monicker. I brought it back 6 years later because I loved how raw and punk it was. The lyrics are dorky but I decided to leave them as is, it's a cool track for high school stoners to blare and let out their teen angst. Favorite line: "Walking in on my friends fucking."

5. Polaroids on My Bulletin Board: This is a song about growing up. As a 22 year old (now 23) who decided not to go to college straight out of high school, I felt isolated from my peers in a way. By going into the workfield right away I sometimes feel like I skipped a few years and missed out on a lot of opportunities. I regret not leaving my hometown sooner than I did and chasing my dreams of being a touring musician in a band. More often than not I reminisce of my youth playing shows and getting into trouble, as I now feel old and out of place in a scene I grew up in. Favorite line: "I know what it's like to be alive, I know what it's like to live a lie."

6. Labradoodle Underpass: Going back on the theme of growing up, this is about my recent experience with shows as an adult. When I was a teenager I felt ambitious and ready for anything, and I would drop literally everything to go to the nearest show. As an adult I feel introverted and constantly anxious about the world around me. I've missed out on a lot of great shows due to my own self doubt's and anxiety. Now that shows have been canceled for over a year I feel even more regret by not appreciating them more while I could. Favorite line: "23 years and a lingering fear that anything could happen, why am I here?"

7. Some Shit: This was me trying to be modest mouse lol jangly guitars and half talking/half singing vocals describing the world around me. I guess in a way it was an exercise in writing character description and setting, but otherwise it's just a chill track that almost feels aimless at parts. Favorite Line: "it's just some shit I learned from a friend. Just some shit I learned when I was trying to prepare."

8: Woe is the World: On the album this is a chorus snippet that barely a minute long (the full version is available as a bonus track on bandcamp, and it was actually a demo that turned out better than the final version.) I originally wrote this song when I was 15 with a different set of lyrics, but I came back to it while writing this album and re-wrote it to reflect my mental state and the world around me. Overall, just another melancholy track in a sea of melancholy songs. Favorite line: "you've never felt more alone than you do now, was everything worth it in the end?"

9. Then Why Was it Named Gideon?: the title is a reference to a line in Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour (my favorite series) and like the first track on this album doesn't have much to do with the song. "Gideon" is a simple love song, talking again about how growing up sucks but having the right person by your side can make all the shitty times worth it in the end. Favorite line: "it's time to move on, you're taking too long."

10. I am Here, I'm Looking at Her, and She is Beautiful: This song is entirely about the book "Perks of Being a Wallflower". That's it. Nothing else, let's move on. Favorite line: "Over Christmas I read them a poem about a brown paper bag and the boy who wrote it."

11. Try to Be a Filter, Not a Sponge: Like the previous song, this one is also mostly about "Perks of Being a Wallflower", but with elements of my own experience with toxic relationships. I like to think of it as the character Charlie's experience with Mary Elizabeth overall though. Favorite line: "She called my favorite book washed out trash, said I have no taste and I'm still too sad."

12. Lavender Spray Bottle: This instrumental dates back to 2017. I recorded the guitar part as a demo on my phone and forgot about it. Over time I forgot how to play the guitar part, so I used the demo as a basis and layered everything else on top of it. The title is a reference to a bottle of water with lavender essential oils mixed in that my ex used to fend away spiders in the house we lived in at the time.

13. Hindsight is 2020: I will admit, this is my favorite song on the whole album and was actually the last to be written and recorded. With a simple guitar part and layers of vocals, this song is a direct reflection of life during the peak of the pandemic. With curfews in place and rising case counts, I had to learn to cope with life at home during my late nights away from work. My partner was quarantined during this time and I reflected on the mental strain this put on her. Favorite line: "Don't go to work, you need the money but you're not happy when you're there. Sometimes life is so unfair."

14. I Don't Know How to Deal With Serious Emotions Without Turning Them into a Fucking Joke: the title came from a meme I found on my phone from high school. The song itself was about my own inability to handle serious emotions without coming off as sarcastic. In both the music and lyrics, the song starts as a simple confession before exploding into raw chaos. Favorite line: "it's so hard. I'm so scared, what have I become?"

15. Say Hello to My Little Friend: the last instrumental on this album. A short haunting tune that reflects the final two tracks. The title is probably a reference to Rambo or something, but I never watched it and I thought it fit the feeling of this song.

16. Minneapolis: What became one of the most emotional tracks on this song actually began as a joke. My partner was snap chatting a friend one night and they asked me to write them a song on the spot. So I improvised the first two verses and chorus of this song, referencing her going to school there at the time. I found I actually liked what I had written however, so I refined the track and changed it from a sassy country song into a melancholic lament of my experience in the twin cities and southern Minnesota. Favorite line: "I miss Camp Snoopy, and Paul Bunyon's log flume ride that went around the whole damn mall."

17. Before the Sunrise: the final song on the album is an intimate look at my relationship with my partner. Through past experiences i have become riddled with self doubt and always looking at improving myself as a person. With hopes that one day I'll be the person I'd like to be for mine and their sake, it's an optimistic tribute to my best friend. Favorite line: "the cycle ends until the sun rises again, you're my best friend."

Thank you all so much! Check out Essential and our other music on Bandcamp, Spotify, Apple, and other places! I hope you all enjoyed this personal look at these songs that got me through the worst parts of 2020.

#tuesday x #emo #music #alternative #art rock #diy music #diy #midwest #underground #lyrics #essential #covid19

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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The Monster’s Lair - Bloody Affairs

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 1 | Chapter 2 - Bloody Affairs | Chap 3 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - injury, man hunt, skin burns

Author’s note: Before I write my long fics I usually gather a number of things to inspire me, including poems, movies, imagery and music. Music! I thought it’d be nice to share the playlist I made for this long fic as well. In case you, the reader, would like my tunes to enjoy while reading. Also, I’ll add specific songs per chapter, to kind of “set the mood”. I hope you sweethearts enjoy this chapter, and have a lovely Wednesday!

Also. Hello 500 followers! That’s like a small village!! HOLY DAMN!

Word count: 2.374

Reading music: Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld - The Beast

(Link to my Masterlist)

A glow.

Was the sun rising already? With a deep frown etched on his beautiful face the monster watched the glow grow in strength, setting alight the centre of the old town. Oh no, that was no sun, it was a fire! Fire!

Opening the french doors out to the upper terrace, he stormed out into the equally stormy weather, his eyes widened as he peered into the distance, seeing what was amiss.

It was with his sensitive, monster-like retina that he could pick up even the tiniest of detail in a mile wide radius, like a hawk in flight. And so he watched and listened, his ears pricking as he came to the bitter conclusion that it wasn’t just a simple fire. It was hell.

From the blazing flames he could hear the screams, desperate panicked screams, that belonged to people who couldn’t seem to escape from the certain death that was awaiting them.

The monster panicked in turn, his eyes flitting over his attire. He was too visible like this, too easily recognisable. With the fire roaring he needed more than the shade of night to hide himself from the people’s curious eyes. If anything, he didn’t want them to know who he was, or what he was. And so, with great haste, he rushed inside, picking out a large cloak that flew out behind him like a bat’s wing, large, impending and cloud-like, the heavy fabric flapping in the angry wind that flowed with him down the pine tree covered hills.

It was an advantage of his disposition, that he had such strength and speed.

Far superior to all creatures and men around, he could move faster than a hundred horses combined and rip apart logs like they were sheets of the thinnest paper. And, in this situation, it was exactly what was needed, the flames lapping around the town’s houses and church with great hunger. The old wood structures were no match - or in fact a literal match - to the doom that was impending.

Arriving at the scene, hidden in the mask of darkness, he watched. Strange. There were barely any people, most rushing out to fetch help or water. It was clear as day that someone needed to help them, NOW. And so he did.

With careful steps he moved out into the flickering light of the flames that cast an eerie orange glow over the town square, people so busy rushing that they did not notice him. The screams were so loud they were nearly painful in his sensitive ears, and yet he didn’t back away.

Pulling his cape further over his head, making sure he remained turned with the wind so his face wouldn’t show, he rushed to one of the houses where the most desperate of cries came from.

In the sea of flames he noticed that the door had been barricaded by a fallen down floor, making it impossible for the woman and children inside to flee. Restless wails and pained cries was all he heard as he stormed into the fire like it was nothing, his flesh not feeling pain like humans do, his clothes melting around his limbs like a second skin as the flames licked, willing him to surrender.

But there was no surrender for the beast.

With mighty strength, a growl thundering through his large chest, he pushed aside the blockade, his claw-like hands instinctively reaching for the family inside, their eyes squinting in the biting heat of the blaze.

‘COME.’ He boomed, his voice so loud that the people outside could swear they heard a thunder crack in the restless skies above. And, as the family wasn’t moving, frozen in fear as they looked straight into his face, he stepped further into the flames, practically dragging the three children and their shivering mother out by their neck hair, shocked little wails flying from their gasping mouths as they were now suddenly back outside. Almost entirely unharmed.

‘THE BEAST!’ A villager screamed, pointing at the dark figure that stood out in the flames, his clothes ablaze but his stature calm. More villagers joined, turning around from their busiment to fetch water, large eyes looking in shock as they saw that poor mother with three children, tugged along by the dark creature that had risen from the flames.

‘KILL HIM!’ The crowd roared atop the loud wicker of the crying fire, women and wind. And with that, the mother managed to free herself with a panicked tug from the monster’s grasp, heavy billowing tears over her cheeks as she reached back out for her children, the monster letting them go without a fight, his gleaming eyes looking back over the crowd and seeing pitchforks being gathered.

Had he not done good? Was this his penance, to forever be hated so? With a frustrated sigh he fled the scene, the flames that still licked his body dying as he rushed with great speed up the long path that led back to his domains. And as he ran, nearly flying with the wind in his face, arms shielding himself from being seen, the skies started to cry for him.

And how they cried.

At first the rainwater was but a light spray of slow and meager drops, but as he ran further and further from the village, the larger and more desperate the showers came down, drowning with it the last of the sounds of uproar that he had left behind him.

‘Please...Belle..’ A soft voice alarmed him that someone was near, feeble and beaten down in the ditch that was now quickly becoming muddy. The monster hesitated, his flight coming to a halt as he watched the crumpled down man that sat there. Belle’s father.

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the angry mob coming into view. Afoot and on horse, ready to chase him down even if it would be the death of them - which it likely would be might the situation truly escalate as quickly as those flames now ate up the town square.

ARGH! How could it be so, that despite his best efforts, he just couldn’t do good? With a desperation in his still beating heart he left the poor man behind, continuing his flight back to the safety of his monsterly lair, where he’d lick his wounds. Some hurting, others mere burned flesh and tender sinew.

‘Come Phelippe! No horsing around now.’ Belle grumbled, eyeing the stubborn horse who shook his head in disagreement, his manes flying majestically in the stormy wind, the dark of night swallowing the large fields around them.

‘No? No?! Come on! It’s about to rain!’ She exclaimed, raising her hands in defeat as the dark bay nickered. ‘Well, very well then! I’m off. You stay there!’ She started to walk away, her torch bleeding flames as the wind whipped harshly around her, her braided hair becoming damp as the first spray of water droplets leaked from the roaring skies.

It was then the horse finally gave in, hesitant hooves following her until she felt his warm nose press into her shoulder. ‘Oh! And now you are..-’ Her smile died on her lips as she saw an orange glow appear in the far distance, the glow bright and evil looking in the unblinking dark. The village. Gasping quietly, her feet falling back to join the large horse, she tangled her fingers into its mane, hoping it would sooth her sudden disquieted mind.

Wait..was that the town hall? Was papa alright?!

Stay home, Belle. Stay home.

Her father had been adamant on her not sneaking out tonight - especially with the beast on the loose. Belle had begrudgingly given her consent, taking the task upon her to watch over the horses as her father was out in the town hall. And so here she stood, her hands gripping large wads of hay as she moved over the thick brown coat of the mare, rubbing down sweat, mud and rain. She had used the horse to fetch the string of other horses that had been in the back of the field, the storm now quickly gaining strength. With the horses safe and sound inside the stables, she couldn’t help but wonder what her father was up to, her eyes looking at the open barn doors that rattled nervously in the fierce wind.

Outside she saw the rain as it poured, finally, small streams of water running down the path that linked the village to the mansion of the Les Comtes.

Perhaps he was helping with the fire or perhaps the town hall meeting ran late, she thought, warily watching the darkness outside. It wasn’t very much like her father to leave her out and alone so late at night. Never. From her very first memory, father was always closeby, ever protective, though also trying his best to give her what freedom she desired to bloom into the 20-year old woman she had now grown out to be.

Old. Ha! Yes, some town folk had started saying she was old now, and if not careful no man would want her hand in marriage. She’d become an old spinster, like Miss Guinee that lived at the other edge of town in the tiniest of cots, her cough so bad that people had set bets on when she’d pass on.

But alas. Miss Guinee was a tough cookie. And so was Belle. She was most definitely not going to settle for less than..

A figure passed by. Hurried, hidden in a long shredded to pieces cloak that swished wide and wing-like behind him. Papa? Oh, he and his poor eyesight were really going to bring him in some type of trouble someday. With hastened paces she rushed to the door opening, calling for the figure as he rushed further and further up the path.

In the half dark and rain she could see him turn, a pale face catching a glimpse of the lights inside the barn. It wasn’t her father. In fact she wasn’t sure who this was. A man. And then he disappeared. Quite literally disappeared. In the blink of an eye the silhouette of the man vanished into thin air, leaving Belle quite perplexed before her attention was pulled to an uproar down wind. An angry mob approaching.

Flickering torches, angry fists, raised pitchforks, the rain around them coming down heavy from the night’s sky, it was obvious that the townsfolk were on the hunt. First in line being the Old Master’s son Ismael.

‘Belle.’ He called, halting his grey steed besides the beauty who still stood there in the door opening, just outside of the rain. He offered her a self-confident smirk from the dark of his hood, the stable lights shining on his handsome, square jawed face.

‘Sir Le Comte.’ She said, not all impressed by his haughty behaviour, her doe-like eyes instead looking out at the madding crowd that was coming closer on foot.

‘Oh, Ismael to you, dear Belle.’ He smiled, before realising she was not watching him, but the townsfolk that were nearing. ‘Say Belle, please do not tell me you are left to fend for yourself! No lady should befall such a faith!’ He said with a false tone of care, making Belle sniffle in bemusement.

‘And you are here to save me with your ..mad crowd?’ She eyed the farmers, butchers and bakers that now joined the two of them, surrounding Ismael and his trusty steed. All huddled away in heavy wet cloaks, torches in hand.

Belle clutched her shawl around her chest, shivering in the suddenly rather cold wind and splash of water that blew inside the barn opening. The people looked enraged.

‘Tis in fact the beast, we have seen!’ One of the villagers roared.

‘The beast?’ Belle looked back at Ismael, confused, the man shrugging as if it left him unaffected, not in the least bit worried - ever the hero, huh?

‘Indeed. Have you seen any odd beings roam about the stables, by any chance? And where is your father anyw-?’ - ‘You mean you have not seen my father?’ Belle interrupted, her eyes flicking back to study the faces that glimmered in the torch lights. Angry, bewildered people. Familiar faces. But none resembling her father.

Where was he?

‘Belle..oh Belle!’ Ismael exclaimed with an exasperated sigh, coming down from his horse and stretching out his hand to cup her cheek with his wet, gloved hand. ‘Now, please know that I will personally keep you safe, if must be. That old man..’ He huffed. ‘..is clearly quite inapt for the job.’

‘You have not seen father..’ Belle gasped, then ducked away from Ismael’s hand to walk into the crowd, into the rain, calling for Arthur, but failing midway as Ismael grasped her wrist just a bit too tightly, spinning her back around.

‘Say now Belle. You have not answered my question, darling dear.’

Belle frowned and looked back at Ismael, his hand digging painfully in her skin. ‘The beast? Oh no..I have seen no beast come through these parts.’ She said, hiding the knowledge of one strange man just passing by.

‘Hmm..then perhaps he has taken the east road!’ Ismael roared, letting Belle go from his iron grip, his hand now gesturing one of his man to stay behind. ‘And as for Belle. I shall return my sweet, and for you alone I shall skin and bleed that beast, make it a fine hide for beneath our feet!’ He stepped closer and brushed an unwanted thumb over her grimacing face before turning back towards the crowd.

‘LET US HUNT!’ He cried, not noticing that Belle quietly continued to ask people for the whereabouts of her father.

None knew.

None until the crowd had left, except for one brusk looking man that quickly rushed inside the stable, to hide from the roaring storm. It was clear that he was not even thinking for one single moment to “protect” Belle as he had been instructed.

Belle stepped back in the door opening, peering out in the dark until she noticed a sole figure appearing from the shadows. With slow heavy steps he came closer, the barn lights finally revealing him to be her father, his hand clutched over a bleeding wound on his temple.

‘PAPA!’ She cried in horror, rushing over to him, back in the on-going downpour. ‘Papa..what happened?’ She said in more of a hush tone, looking over her shoulder to see the townsfolk return to the main road, the mob taking a sharp turn to the east, their torches slowly fading back in the darkness, an angry glow of the fire at the townsquare still roaring in the background.

Belle sighed in quiet despair. It appeared that even the crying heavens couldn’t stop this bloody terror.

‘Come papa.’ She muttered, offering him her support. ‘Let us get you inside.’ Her eyes quickly traced back at the north road, to the exact spot where she had seen that strange man. And she couldn’t help but wonder.

Had that been..the beast?

Chap 3 >

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @elinesama @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #vampire!henry #beauty and the beast au #longfic #angst #adult fairytale #injury #man hunt #belle #vampire

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years ago

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Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#220-211)

#220: Yiannis Dimitras -- Feggari Kalokerino (Greece 1981)

"Κοίτα τον έρημο γυαλό Σου ψιθυρίζω σ’ αγαπώ Τώρα θα χτίσω εκκλησιά Για της αγάπης τα τρελά παιδιά" "Look at the desolate seashore I whisper you “I love you” Now I’ll build a church For the crazy children of love" The opening shot, the rose on the piano, set the stage for such a romantic journey under the summer moon. And the soundscape created through the piano and instrumental throw us into this endearing scene, one which is also tinged with melancholy. Feggari Kalokerino is not only an ode to this beauty, but also an admission of craziness for falling in love. With such pretty lyrics, one can't help but get enveloped in this pretty world, where everything is so beautiful. The combination of Yiannis' singing and the woman's piano playing is also quite cute, albeit with some...interesting undertones to it. Either way, it's classical yet timeless.

Personal ranking: 3rd/20 Actual ranking: 8th/20 in Dublin

#219: Liliane Saint-Pierre -- Soldiers of Love (Belgium 1987)

“Neem elkaars handen Smeed nou die banden toe Hoor je die verre kreet? Geen mens vraagt dat leed” “Take each other’s hands Come on, weld those bonds Do you hear that distant scream? Nobody asks for that suffering” Top ten opening themes of anime, haha. It also helps that "Soldiers of Love" is the English translation for the song "Ai no Senshi" from Sailor Moon (which I've listened to many times but haven't gotten that far into the anime...). That said, Soldiers of Love packs a punch with the instrumentation and the high intensity of the melody. The lyrics are a powerful battle cry, albeit one which advocates for peace amongst people. There’s so much energy and determination in Belgium’s host entry, one would prepare themselves for battle for a good cause. Liliane really delivers this earnestly and with determination, though sometimes the military-style get-up stands out to me the most when I watch it again. Though those two guitarists turning their ends as if they were firing guns is a cool thing to behold.

It's one of the host entries that is better than the song which one it for the country, which is something because J'aime la vie is considered a fan favorite.

Personal ranking: 6th/22 Actual ranking: 11th/22 in Brussels

#218: Beth -- Dime (Spain 2003)

"Cuántas veces te llamé en la noche Cuántas veces te busqué Por mis recuerdos yo vuelvo Y no pierdo la fe" "How many times did I call you in the night? How many times did I look for you? I return for my memories And I don’t lose faith" For some reason, Dime reminds me of "Die for You" from two years earlier--both feature modern pop bops with ethnic influences, both imploring about the state of a relationship (while they both want to make it wor. And they're both in the same key! At the same time, Dime holds its own as one of the strongest 2000s entries from Spain. They had similar flamenco/Latin inspired entries in 2001 and 2004, which were highlights in rather mediocre years because of their uniqueness overall. But the guitar flourishes here work well with the dance beat, and it provides its own fun.

Personal ranking: 3rd/26 Actual ranking: 8th/26 in Riga

#217: Svala -- Paper (Iceland 2017)

“Drawing every bit of my truth Colour me in with your blue” I didn’t actually pay attention to this song in the follow-up to the 2017 contest. I also didn’t watch the semi-finals, which could’ve led to me neglecting the song entirely otherwise, especially I've heard a lot about Blackbird during that time. However, the summer after the contest, I discovered the song and listened to it. And I liked it! (And then I got hooked with Svala's other songs through her different groups) I was interested particularly in the lyrics, which discussed a fight between one’s mental demons and anxiety. I like the English version more than the Icelandic one; the latter is a bit more optimistic on winning against the battle whereas the former really takes the issue seriously. The production, while a bit staid, added to the feeling of helplessness with its electronic coldness. The staging also tries to incorporate this, though it didn't work in making it stand out. (I did like Svala's cape and makeup, though!) While I do love "Hear them Calling" a lot, I had a more interesting journey with Paper--it grew until it became something I highly enjoyed. Personal ranking: 6th/42 Actual ranking: DNQ -- 15th in the first semi-final in Kyiv

#216: Live Report -- Why Do I Always Get it Wrong? (United Kingdom 1989)

“You can do what you want to do now...” Honestly, this has to be one of my favorite British entries ever. While "Go" from the previous year gets a lot of acclaim because of its songwriting and Scott's performance (along with how it ended up second in the end), "Why Do I Always Get it Wrong?" is better on how it envelops a mood and could actually be found from this era (though it sadly didn't do too well commercially afterwards, sigh)

Whenever I do something wrong, or self-hate, this is the song I turn to a lot. The synthesizers drew me in—it fit well with the late 1980s-early 1990s sound elsewhere. It's also helped that Celine performed "Where Does My Heart Beat Now" earlier in the contest, which piqued my interest. And while Ray’s ponytail was a choice, it didn’t distract from how he delivered the song.

Despite getting more 12-points, it ended up losing to Yugoslavia by just six points that year. While not my favorite that year, I think it was the better one of the top three; it equally reflects the times and holds up!

Personal and actual ranking: 2nd/22 in Lausanne

#215: Tommy Nilsson -- En Dag (Sweden 1989)

“En dag vi alla förstår, En dag, när stillheten rår, En dag jag finner din hand, När vägarna möts förstår vi varann,” “One day, we all understand, One day, when silence rules One day, I find your hand When our roads meet, we will understand each other” My two favorites from 1989 are sonically different, diverging between despair and hope. I listen to "Why Do I Always Get it Wrong" a bit more, but "En Dag' would stand out for me in a few different ways, more from being just the optimistic song of the two.

The intro features really good brass, which leads way to the fun instrumental. I like how it builds, and Tommy’s interplay with the backing vocalists is incredibly strong. You get a sense of energy from the both of them as they send the song to new heights.

Basically, it's just glorious!

Personal ranking: 1st/22 Actual ranking: 4th/22 in Lausanne

Final Impressions of 1989: It's a pretty fine year, both in songs in production. There are a number of good songs there, though not many classics which hold out in the long-term (except for Vi maler byen rød, which became famous in Denmark and even became the premise of a musical!). Highlights include an overactive conductor from Turkey, two children, and an awesome interval act involving a crossbow!

#214: Bang -- Stop (Greece 1987)

“Ότι κάνεις για δόξα και λεφτά Δες τι χάνεις, αλλού είναι η χαρά”

“Whatever you do is for fame and money See what you are missing, joy is somewhere else”

I’ve heard this song compared to Wham’s output, especially with its vintage rock-n-roll sound (wake me up before you go go). This doesn’t make it any less bad, with its charming tone and thoughtful lyrics about how a girl who only wants material goods should stop chasing them.

(This is another reason why sometimes, the original-language version is better that any other one--the English version to this song has goes on a completely different tangent)

The performance also falls into vintage aesthetics, with the suits for both Thanos and Vassilis and sock-hop style dresses for the backing vocalists. It's really cute, and the way they dance fits the scene.

On another note, apparently Greeks saw this as a favorite at the time, can someone verify that?

Personal ranking: 5th/22 Actual ranking: 10th/22 in Brussels

#213: Guy Bonnet -- Marie-Blanche (France 1970)

“Nous sommes là dans une douce quiétude Nous avons mis fin à notre solitude Nos corps apprennent de tendres habitudes Et Marie-Blanche est à moi”

“We’re there in a soft stillness We’ve put an end to our loneliness Our bodies learn tender habits And Marie-Blanche is mine”

By 1970, chanson was on its way out; in its place was folk, rock-n-roll (spearheaded in France by Johnny Halladay, who has a great French version of "House of the Rising Sun"), and psychadelia. Within France itself, some of the #1 singles from that year include Comme j'ai toujours envie d'aimer, Let It Be, and Bridge over Troubled Water (a total masterpiece, I tell you).

So, what does one make of Marie-Blanche, in this case?

It's a really sweet love poem, in which Guy declares his love for the girl. and conveys a particularly cute scene. Whenever I listen to this, I envision two lovers cuddling inside while watching the snow fall during the winter. There's a sense of magic and serenity in all this, and the lyrics match the pretty piano melody.

Basically, hits are important to keep the contest alive. But songs like Marie Blanche can pull on the feels in the right ways.

Personal ranking: 2nd/12 Actual ranking: =4th/12 in Amsterdam

#212: Justyna -- Sama (Poland 1995)

“I czuła się tak marnie Poczuła się tak marnie Jakby Bóg, dobry Bóg Nie lubił pcheł..”

“And I feel poor Feeling so poor As if God, the good God Didn’t love little fleas...”

If 1994’s To nie ja represented something classic and hopeful, 1995’s Sama takes it and reverses it. (And in the grand Eurovision timeline, they're only separated by the last song of 1994, Je suis un vrai garcon from France) Instead of a young woman filled with life and singing a decent ballad, we have another one pondering herself, all alone, with nobody to help her.

Also, this is more of an acquired taste with its out-of-tune recordings and Justyna’s scream. But it doesn’t feel out of place within the 1990s, with its alternative influences and production, and I like Sama a lot for that!

Unfortunately, it also caused it to do substantially worse, which is simultaneously explainable and baffling. A good result would've made waves for future Eurovision entries; the 1990s are my favorite decade, but they did misalign quite a bit from the mainstream.

Personal ranking: 7th/23 Actual ranking: 18th/23 in Dublin

#211: The Shadows -- Let Me Be the One (United Kingdom 1975)

"You and I could have an affair/make sweet music, go anywhere"

Isn't this lyric really charming? I couldn't help but have a little giggle because of it; there's a sense of naughtiness (especially with choosing "affair"; are they trying to something illicit?) underneath it.

That said, The Shadows are mainly known for their instrumental rock, but Let Me Be the One has a neat melody line. The rock-n-roll vibe, which could be released within that decade, is light but lovely, and added a jolt of uniqueness to the otherwise poppy contest up to that point. The flubbed line in the beginning ("let me be the one who literally holds you tight", haha) adds to the whole thing, but they were able to carry on, nevertheless.

And while I like all the 1970s winners to some extent, I would switch out "Ding-a-Dong" for Let Me Be the One in terms of winners vs. runners-up; like with Sama, it could've changed the contest in a positive way.

Personal ranking: =3rd/19 Actual ranking: 2nd/19 in Stockholm

#esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc greece #esc belgium #esc spain #esc iceland #esc united kingdom #esc sweden #esc france #esc poland #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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bide-time-to-diee · 4 months ago

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pick a song (written in paragraph poetry form) and i’ll post the whole thing

Song 1) No One Cares About the Kids Until There’s Nothing Left to Repopulate the Earth (A Mass Extinction is Coming)

Song 2) Self Destruction is a Glorious Thing When it Happens to me (Living in a Glass House With no Door)

#bidetimetodieesposts #songwriter #poetry #poemblr #poems by me #i use writing as a distraction from sh so all of my poems are violent and about cutting myself #tw sh related #shtwitter #tw sh in tags #the paper chase #paper chase inspired poems and songs #will wood

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scripts4dreamers · 5 years ago

Text

Not Your Hero.

Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five

AN: Life after the Hunger Games was a lesson in adaptation. Prologue.

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Haymitch Abernathy, Chaff Mitchelle Pairings: Finnick x reader Spoiler(s): None Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation

Prompt/Inspiration: No Next Time - Chasing Madison

Hey guys! So this is a prologue for the series I’m writing, the Not Your Hero series, just setting up the world, giving some context and introducing some important characters. I’m going to try to add a new moodboard with every chapter, some of which will have hidden clues as to plot points (like this one does). I’ll also include links to any songs, poems, pics etc. that may have inspired that particular chapter. Let me know what you think!

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You had good days and bad days. Well, no, not quite. You had middle days, bad days and worse days. On the bad days, you could barely get out of bed, food turned to ashes in your mouth (if you could stomach it at all) and you couldn’t keep from crying, just sobbing your eyes out for hours on end until someone came and sat with you. Usually it was one of your parents, sometimes it was James or Ivette.

On worse days you felt like a coiled spring; panicked, alert, ready for danger at any moment. The slightest sound or smell could set you off and, when it did, weeks and weeks and weeks of work would vanish into the terror of the arena. On worse days you could forget about going outside. It was all you could do to not go crazy in the confines of your own home, let alone brave the world that waited beyond your front door. When you were like that, the outside world became a labyrinth of hidden triggers, just waiting to activate your fight or flight response and send you back into the dark, shadowy recesses of your own trauma. Ivette said it would get better. She said it would just take some time, that’s all. You weren’t sure you believed her.

Middle days weren’t so bad. On middle days, like today, you didn’t feel much of anything really. You dragged yourself out of nightmares, into waking and just felt...tired. On middle days, your continued survival was exhausting, but you could manage it so long as you followed a few simple rules. You had to get out of bed as soon as you woke up no matter how early it was; take a shower without flinching when the water hit; avoid looking in the mirror. You had to get dressed quickly, minimize the amount of time you had to be naked; never ever wear beige; brush your hair without catching sight of yourself; list three beautiful things you had seen since the last middle day. If you followed all these rules then, usually, by the time you made it downstairs for breakfast, the layer of glass that separated you from the world would have been beginning to crack, and you’d be feeling almost human again.

Today, you had managed to follow the rules and so were feeling almost happy as you took a seat at the kitchen island, watching your mother cook. Her dark hair was glossy and neat, falling down her back in a long, straight wave. She must have blow dried it, you thought, taking a small amount of pride in the fact that you could provide for her and your father now, just as they’d always done for you.

“Morning, sunshine,” you said, as always slightly shocked by the sound of your own voice, “you’re up early.”

Your mother turned and smiled, the scar running along the left side of her face just barely visible in the early morning light. She looked relieved to see you, just like she always did these days, as though she was worried you might have vanished some time in the night, never to be seen again.

“Yes, well,” she started, walking over, “you know I never was one for sleeping in. That’s why I always tried to get morning shifts at the plant” She raised her hand, as though to touch you, but paused, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

You gave her a sad, knowing smile, but nodded, letting her brush the hair out of your face and press a kiss to the top of your head, tensing your muscles to keep from flinching.

“But you don’t work at the plant anymore,” you reminded her gently, trying to regain some of your earlier happiness, “you don’t have to. I can take care of us now.”

“I know that, love,” she said softly, “old habits I guess. Maybe my body just isn’t used to...the way things are now.”

Your stomach dropped. There it was. ‘The way things are now’, that little innocuous phrase that had come to represent so much in your house. She meant the games, of course, your time in the arena. She meant that things had been different ever since that awful day, when your name had been read off a little slip of white paper and the silence of the crowd had doomed you to die.

Only you hadn’t died, you reminded yourself, you hadn’t died, you’d won. You’d come home, you were alive. You weren’t dead, you were alive.

You took a deep breath in, tried to clear your mind and nodded and searched the room with your eyes, desperate to change the subject, “What’re you making?”

“Porridge, the nice kind with fresh berries and honey.” your mom answered, following your lead, “Do you want some?”

“Yes please,” you replied with a semi-forced smile, “I’m starving.”

Your mom placed a steaming bowl in front of you and, without giving yourself time to hesitate, you dug in, savoring the sweet, heartiness of good food and letting it wash away the tickle of anxiety that had started making its way down your spine.

“That’s four days in a row now, Y/N/N,” your father said happily, appearing in the kitchen and walking over to give your mother a kiss, “good job.”

“Thanks paps,” you greeted, swallowing quickly, “been trying my best.”

“We see the hard work you’re doing, love, and we’re proud of you,” he smiled, “real proud.” he paused, taking a bite of his oatmeal, “Big day today, huh?”

You swallowed again but tried to smile as you nodded.

“What’re we proud of?” a third voice called, right as you opened your mouth to speak.

Your older sister, Alayah, appeared at the foot of the stairs, still wearing her pajamas and pointedly avoiding your gaze. At the sight of her, your chest pinched again, and you quickly clenched and unclenched your fists.

“Of all the work Y/N has been doing recently,” your dad explained, glossing over the palpable tension, “just letting her know that we’re all rooting for her, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she said in monotone, “yeah, congrats on eating breakfast I guess, Y/N/N.” she finished, sitting down three seats away from you, all the while still not looking you in the eye.

You sighed and swallowed another bite of oatmeal, feeling the anxiety start to work its way back in.

“Alayah-” your mother started, as your stomach started to twist with dread.

“What? What did I do now?” Alayah argued.

“You know things have been tough for Y/N since-”

“Stop,” you interrupted warningly, “stop it.”

“Since what, mom? Say it! We’ve all been tip toeing around this place like mice for months, just say what you want to say and let’s be done with it.” Alayah argued, her voice rising just enough to betray the depth of her anger.

“Alayah Y/L/N don’t you dare take that ungrateful tone, after everything Y/N has put herself through for this family the very least you could do is-”

“Stop,” You repeated as the warning signs of a panic attack began to spike in your head.

“Y/N, I’m just saying, since the games your sister has been nothing but-”

“Stop it!” You demanded, pushing your chair back and standing suddenly.

The chair legs grated against the tile floors, making your skin crawl and effectively silencing everyone in the room. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you fought back the urge to lash out against an enemy you knew wasn’t really there and you clenched your fists, digging your fingernails into your palms, hard.

“Stop. Talking about it.” you managed to say, “Stop. It’s done.”

“Not really,” Alayah answered, even if her tone was slightly more scared than before, “they’ll all be here again later today to kick off the Victory tour, all the cameras and the capitol people...it’s not done yet.”

The Victory Tour. You’d been trying so hard not to think about it but, as usual, Alayah would never let you escape the reality of what you’d done. Things had been tense with her for months now, maybe it was time to accept that it would never be the way it was.

You snorted as irritation sparked in your chest, “Thanks for the reminder, Ally,” you spat, trying to choke down your panic, “that’s real helpful.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out, desperate to fill your rapidly tightening lungs with cool, fresh air. As the wind hit you, you gasped, but pressed on, breaking into a run. The snow slowed you down and made you clumsy, but you didn’t stop, sure that your parents must have been trying to follow you, even though you couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your heart in your ears. Your eyes stung from a combination of the cold wind and the tears that were building behind your eyes and you knew you couldn’t face your family, not now.

You weren’t sure where you were going exactly, just that you needed to be away. Away from that house and all its looming grandiosity, away from your sister and her cutting words, away from the sound of screaming that you knew was coming from inside your own head.

You collapsed behind a dilapidated old house, far away enough from Victor’s Village to assure you some privacy, and let the tears flow over your cheeks hot and fast. You gripped the snow surrounding you tightly as your lungs tightened and tightened and tightened in your chest, forcing you to fight for every breath. Cognitively, you knew you must be cold, you knew the snow must’ve been biting your exposed skin and soaking you to the bone, but you felt none of it.

Instead, you felt the burning sun on your face, you felt the long grass brush your cheeks as you knelt over the blonde boy and tightened your fingers around his throat.

Dried mud along with fresh blood caked both of your skin, making it difficult to grip and hold, but you didn’t let go, squeezing tighter and tighter, even as he clawed at your fingers and gouged at your face with his nails. Hot, coppery blood filled your mouth, sliding down your cheeks and mingling with your tears from three deep gashes he’d left above your right eyebrow. Everything inside you was focused on this boy, this final obstacle, this last thing standing between you and home. Home, Home. Home. You engraved that word in your mind, letting it override your horror and disgust and shame.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m sorry, I have to-I have to-I-”

Suffocating someone is painstakingly slow but, after what felt like an eternity, you saw the last glimmers of life leave the boy’s eyes. His hands went limp on your wrist and his last, gurgling breath hung in the air like clouds. Still, you didn’t let go, you couldn’t. Not until you heard that final canon and Claudius Templesmith’s booming voice calling out through the silence;

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victor of the sixty-ninth annual Hunger Games!”

You gasped and snapped back to reality, the vast grasslands fading away before your eyes, back into ice and snow. And you were alone. You were shaking, whether from cold or terror you couldn’t quite tell and your hands were going purple from gripping the snow. In the distance, you could hear people calling your name, and you fought the urge to run away and hide. You were safe, you reminded yourself. You hadn’t died. You were safe.

“I’m here,” you called out, hating the way your voice croaked, “I’m over here.”

The footsteps came closer and you stood, steeling yourself for the inevitable. Oh well, you thought, better to get it over with now.

Your stylist had nearly had a heart attack when she’d seen you, soaked to the bone with red puffy eyes and wet hair tangled by the wind. She had scolded you pretty thoroughly as your prep team worked, but softened when you apologized profusely and swore on your mother’s life to never be so reckless on a filming day again. You thought you’d laid it on a little too thick but, as usual, Arketia ate it up and, before you knew it you were practically the best of friends again.

As the prep team bustled around, gossiping and gushing and just generally saying nothing of importance, you settled back into the routine, letting their words wash over you like a river and numb your panicked heart. Your hair was washed and combed, styled to look graceful and effortless, even though it had taken nearly an hour to do. Every unwanted hair had been plucked and waxed and stripped from your body, leaving you smooth to the touch under the outfit. Your clothes were form fitting, but warm, accentuating your curves as much as they could considering it was still the dead of winter, and your make up was done to make your face look more angular and striking. All in all, you were seductive without being salacious, a balancing act your team had perfected months earlier. With the clothes and the hair and the make up, you felt yourself sliding back into your alter ego, shifting your weight slightly to accentuate the fabric where it hugged your frame and tucking your real self away, to be brought out at a later date. You smirked at yourself in the mirror, or at least tried to, imagining how it would look to an outside observer. Oh yeah, now you were all shiny and new again, and ready for the cameras.

While the crew set themselves up downstairs, you observed yourself in the mirror some more, perfecting smiles and laughs and little movements that read as confident, strangely calm considering the state you’d been in only a few hours before. There was something comforting about being back in the spotlight, like now all your fears made sense again. With the cameras back on, and the games being brought to the forefront of everyone’s minds once more, your fight for survival didn’t seem so out of place. Everyone was in your world now and, in your world, you were the one that knew the rules. A faint knocking on the door brought you back to the present and you smiled when James Logan, your mentor stepped in.

He was a middle aged man with olive skin and a shadow of stubble across his jawline, neatened up by a capitol prep team for the cameras, you were sure. He had a stern face, and hard eyes, when he wasn’t addled by drink but, you knew, he had a kind heart and a real love for you and Ivette, the only two tribute’s he’d managed to save in nearly 26 years. He’d worked hard to bring you home, and even harder to keep you from wasting away once you were back and now, it seemed, he’d be accompanying you across Panem for your Victory Tour.

“You ready?” he asked, his usually cloudy eyes clear and discerning.

You pressed your lips together and nodded, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

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tag list: @i-love-you-green , @heatherhollowayst

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gryffindorcls · 5 years ago

Text

More Than Just a Friend: Chapter 1

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Hello, lovely readers! Thank you for taking the time to read!

This fic was inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads ‘s chat post. You can find it here.

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After patrol, Adrien face planted onto his bed and groaned. Plagg watched as his holder mumbled incoherent ramblings into his comforter. There was only so much a Kwami could take, and he was really close to reaching his limit. This kid needed help.

“Adrien,” Plagg called out in a sing-song voice.

“Hrrrrmmm,” his chosen responded without removing his face from the bedspread.

“You okay there, kid?”

“HRRRRRrrrruuuuGH!”

“So...is that a no?”

Adrien breathed deeply and pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I’m frustrated, Plagg.”

“Yes,” Plagg responded, nodding his head, “That much I can tell.”

“I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

“Are you going to make me listen to you talk about it all night?”

The visibly distressed teen ignored the Kwami’s question. “It’s just...why couldn’t Ladybug be someone I know? It would make all of this so much easier!”

Plagg shook his head and sighed. “I will take that as a yes. I guess I should get comfortable.”

“You don’t understand.”

“To be perfectly fair, I rarely understand you.”

“She feels so unreachable and yet strangely...close? I don’t know anymore. If only she was someone like...Marinette...you know? That would be great!”

Plagg choked on air. “Woah...wait? Why bakery girl? What’s so special about her?”

Adrien scrunched his face in thought. “Well, I guess it’s because she’s already an everyday hero. She’s always standing up for others and making sure that everyone feels included. Marinette may get nervous sometimes, but she’s also brave, smart, kind, and helpful. She’s pretty and super talented. It would be great if Ladybug was someone like her...or even if it was her.”

“Are you sure it would be great if it was her? Didn’t you tell me that she liked Luka?”

“Plagg, I’m not saying that Marinette is Ladybug. I’m saying it would be nice if Ladybug was someone close to me like Marinette.”

“Kid…”

Adrien walked over to his window and gazed off into the distance. He rested his head against the glass and released a shaky breath.

“Regardless of Luka, it would never work if she was Ladybug. I can’t date Marinette...she’s just a friend,” he said softly, keeping his eyes glued on the Parisian cityscape.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Plagg began, “You sounded pretty sad when you said that just now.”

His chosen turned around and looked at his Kwami with a befuddled expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Adrien,” Plagg cleared his throat, “hear me out. What if...and stay with me on this...what if she wasn’t just a friend?”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Okay...let me try to explain this differently. You are miserable all the time because you can’t capture Ladybug’s heart. How am I doing so far?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “You’re not completely wrong, but I would like to point out that I’m not miserable all of the time.”

“Kid, that was a yes or no question.”

“Just continue explaining.”

“Fine. You wish that Ladybug was someone you knew in real life, and you just gave Marinette as an example, and not someone like...angry sword girl.”

“Kagami?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Adrien huffed. “You and I both know that Kagami definitely isn’t Ladybug. She was Akumatized and we fought her...twice!”

Plagg threw his paws into the air. “Still, you said you wished that Ladybug was someone like Marinette. You never said you wanted her to be someone like Kagami.”

“I’m still not getting your point.”

“What if you tried going out on a date with bakery girl?”

Adrien’s eyes grew wide. “No! I can’t date Marinette!”

Plagg crossed his arms. “And why not?”

“Because she’s just a friend!”

“You obviously have a crush on her.”

The black Kwami carefully observed his holder’s reaction to his last statement.

Adrien’s cheeks were bright red. “No, I don’t.”

“The fact that you’re blushing tells me otherwise,” Plagg pointed out.

The teen buried his face in his hands. “I can’t have a crush on Marinette! I like Ladybug.”

“Did you not just say to me that it would be great if Marinette is Ladybug? Why not give it a shot and see if you’re right. Even if she’s not your partner and you wind up falling for her, would it be the worst thing in the world? You might even be happy for a change.”

“But Marinette is just a…”

Plagg cut him off. “I swear, kid, if you say ‘just a friend’ one more time, I’m going to lose it...and the last time that happened Krakatoa erupted.”

Adrien fell silent and sat down on his bed. He hung his head low and folded his hands in his lap.

The Kwami decided to try a gentler approach. “Look, for just a moment...I want you to pretend that there’s no Ladybug and you’re not Chat Noir. Just imagine that you’re a normal boy with a normal life. Now, think about what it would be like to date Marinette. She’s nice, and she smells like bread. I know she enjoys making things, and her parents seem to like you. You’ve told her that she’s amazing on multiple occasions, and you just told me that you think she’s pretty.”

Adrien looked up and stared off into the distance. Plagg could see the wheels turning in his chosen’s brain, and he really hoped that something would click this time. Suddenly, the teen groaned loudly and doubled over onto the couch.

“Adrien?” Plagg asked after watching his holder moan in anguish for a solid minute.

“No!,” he exclaimed, “I can’t have a crush on Marinette. I CAN’T, BUT I DO! Why did you have to point out all that stuff to me! She’ll never agree to go out with me. She hasn’t started a relationship with a single person who’s shown interest in her all year, and I’m pretty sure half the class has a crush on her. AND NOW I DO, TOO!”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think you’ve liked her all along.”

“Oh my God, Plagg! I can’t like Ladybug and Marinette.”

“Sure you can. You were still in love with Ladybug when you took sword girl out on a date...right?”

“I HAVE A CRUSH ON THREE GIRLS? What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” Plagg shrugged, “You just have a type.”

Adrien sat down in a huff. “I can’t ask Marinette out on a date. She doesn’t think of me that way. She likes Luka.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then you are more than welcome to ask her out.”

“I will be humiliated. I don’t think I can handle rejection from Ladybug and Marinette.”

“Isn’t it worth exploring though?”

Adrien shook his head and started walking towards the bathroom. “I can’t do this right now. I’m going to get ready for bed.”

The tiny, black being chased after him. “Can I at least have some cheese before you go to sleep?”

“PLAGG!”

“What? Giving life advice makes me hungry!”

***

Two hours after Adrien fell asleep, Plagg phased through the window and flew into the night. He zipped down the quiet roads and around the corner towards his holder’s school. If memory served him correctly, bakery girl was right across the street.

Once he found the bakery, he flew to the top window and phased into the attic room where Marinette lay sleeping in her bed. Plagg scanned the room until his eyes fell on a small red mass curled up in a heap of fabric on a desk.

“Tikki!” he whispered loudly from the other side of the room.

Plagg zoomed over to his counterpart and tapped her with his paw.

“Tikki!” he said with more force while still maintaining an appropriate volume.

The red Kwami began to stir in her sleep. Plagg poked her again, and she finally opened her eyes.

She gave him a confused look. “Plagg? What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is your holder okay?”

“I did something,” he said plainly.

Tikki glared at him. “What did you do, Plagg? Don’t tell me another species went extinct. First, it was the dinosaurs. Then, it was the dodo birds, and you completely crossed the line when it came to the unicorns.”

“You and I both know that those unicorns were a bunch of lying thieves. They had to go.”

“They were cute.”

“They were monsters.”

Tikki took a deep breath and massaged her temples. “We’re getting off topic. Please just tell me that the squirrels are still okay.”

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Yes, the squirrels are fine...for now.”

“Just explain to me what you did.”

“I may have convinced my boy that he has a crush on your girl.”

“Chat Noir has never been quiet about liking Ladybug.”

“No,” Plagg said, making eye contact, “I made him realize that Adrien likes Marinette.”

“Oh,” Tikki responded.

“That’s it?”

“Does this mean that he figured out Ladybug’s identity?”

“No. He came home from patrol and started going on about how he wished that Ladybug was someone he knew ‘like Marinette’. I then questioned him on why he chose her out of all his friends, and then I told him to try asking her out.”

“How did he take that?”

“He had a full-blown existential crisis. Adrien thinks that Marinette doesn’t like him romantically and that she’ll turn him down if he asks her on a date.”

“Are you kidding? The girl is obviously in love with him.”

Plagg shook his head. “He’s going to need proof. He’s that kind of guy.”

Tikki paused before answering. “The Valentine.”

“What about it?”

“Marinette wrote it.”

He curled his lips into a smile. “I knew it! But we don’t have any concrete evidence that it’s from her. I’m telling you, he’s not going to believe me unless I have something irrefutable to show him. Not even a sample of her handwriting will be enough.”

Tikki formed her own mischievous grin. “Do you really think that the Valentine he got was the only draft?”

The red Kwami zoomed over to the trunk on the opposite side of the room. She phased through the top, cracked open the lid, and slid a slightly crumpled paper onto the floor. Plagg flew over to the chest and began examining the paper. He saw that it had three different drafts of the Valentine poem, “Marinette Agreste” scribbled in the margins, and a drawing of a smiling hamster.

Plagg looked up at his counterpart. “This is perfect.”

Tikki gave him a serious look. “Now, I have nothing against them finding happiness and starting to date each other, but we will need to make sure that they are careful when it comes to their identities. They can’t know.”

“What if...just try to follow me here,” Plagg began, “what if they did?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if they knew each other’s identities? Would it be that bad? Fox Girl and Turtle Boy learned each other’s identities, and they’re doing great.”

“But Master Fu…”

He cut her off. “Doesn’t have to live with them. He doesn’t see what I see. You asked me if my holder was okay when I came here tonight. You want to know the truth? No, he’s not. His dad sucks and he’s always alone. Here we have two kids who love each other and they don’t even realize it! Do you know how much better their relationship will be? They’ll become better partners and heroes.”

Tikki softened her expression. “You really care about him.”

“I always care about my cats, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t have fun with them along the way.”

“Maybe...maybe you’re right.”

Plagg grinned. “What was that, Sugarcube? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Tikki rolled her eyes and sighed. “I said that maybe you’re right.”

“Finally! You admit it.”

“I’m not saying that you’re always right. You just so happen to be right this one time.”

“Come on! There were plenty of other times that I was correct! I was right about Archduke Franz Ferdinand.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Oh, yes I was.”

“You started World War I.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Fine,” Tikki said, making a dismissive gesture, “So, what are we supposed to do now? Are we just going to let them figure it out on their own?”

“No, we nudge them. They need help,” Plagg explained, “I will give this paper to Adrien tomorrow morning, and I will try to convince him to ask out Marinette.”

“How is that going to help them figure out each other’s identities?”

“We’re just going to have to improvise when opportunities arise. It’s not like we haven’t done that before.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best with Marinette. I’ll try to figure something out.”

“Just think, once they’re a couple, we’ll get to spend more time together.” Plagg nuzzled Tikki as he spoke.

“I’ve missed you, too, Stinky Sock.”

With the paper in hand, Plagg flew over to the window that led to the balcony. Tikki followed behind closely.

Before phasing through the glass, he turned to the red Kwami. “Just one more thing. Adrien feels like he can be himself when he’s Chat Noir. There are very few people in his civilian life who see that side of him. Ladybug has turned him down more than once. I have to ask...how does she really feel about her partner?”

Tikki smiled as she responded. “She values his friendship and cares for him deeply. While she gets frustrated by his recklessness and when he jokes around during a fight, she has a soft spot for the cat. She won’t admit it, but I think she’s starting to fall for him.”

Plagg beamed. “Good. We might just be able to make this work.”

Next ----->

AO3

Fanfiction

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Thank you to everyone who has been reading and following my other stories. Now that “Chat for a Day” and “Please Tell Me I’m Awake Right Now” are both on their last chapters, I have started to write new fics! Let the fluff-train continue!

Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Seeing all your responses fills my heart with joy! You are all wonderful!

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#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrien x marinette #adrienette #fluff #tikki and plagg #ml plagg #ml tikki #More Than Just a Friend #Chapter 1 #fanfiction #ao3

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whatsupitsthatkai · 5 years ago

Text

Whiskey and Cigarettes

It's 2AM here but it's still Sirius' birthday in the US

I've been wanting to write something inspired by this gorgeous piece of art for ages and Sirius' birthday seemed the peferect oppurtunity to finally do it. Hopefully this is mostly coherent

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It was quiet in the house.

Quiet save for the groan of old timber settling, and the odd whistle of wind rattling the windows in their panes.

It smelled like old wood and dust, gloom and the hauntings of memories lingering in every dark corner. It was a dismal place, of that there was no doubt, and yet Remus had chosen to enter, to search the large house room by room, a single target in mind.

The crackling of a fire caught his ear, and he chased the sound, tracking it through grim hallway and creaking stairs until he saw a beam of warm light shining bright ahead of him.

He paused outside the door, closing his eyes and breathing deep. Whiskey, cigarettes, and-

“If you're just going to lurk outside the door you might as well leave, there are enough ghosts in this house.”

The door whined as he pushed it open, standing under the frame as he settled his hands in his pockets and looked inside.

Sirius was sitting near the fire, long legs sprawled in front of him, sleeves rolled up to the elbow and shirt front nearly half unbuttoned, exposing the tattoos etched into his skin. His hair hung loose and a bit haphazard around his shoulders.

There was a cigarette dangling from his fingertips, ash dropping carelessly onto the floor as his fingers fidgeted. A bottle of whiskey sat near his feet, more than half empty already.

“Dumbledore send you?”

Remus shook his head. “No.”

Sirius snorted, flicking more ash from his cigarette before taking a drag. “Course not, not like anything has changed, I'm still to sit here and do nothing like a good little dog.” He exhaled the smoke slowly, sending some through his nose as he sighed. “Why are you here, then?”

Remus’ fingers curled around the small package nestled at the bottom of his pocket. Things had been...odd between them since they reunited. There was too much history, too many years apart thinking the worst, too much that had never been said. As wonderful as it was having each other in their lives again, there was the question of how and where they fit there now.

“I came to see you.”

Sirius’ eyebrows lifted slightly, a spark of interest glittering in his eyes. “Oh?” He took one last pull from his cigarette and flicked it into the fire, snagging the whiskey bottle as his legs unfolded beneath him and pushed him back onto his feet. “Want a drink?”

Remus turned and grabbed a glass from the shelf against the wall, walking over to join Sirius at the table set on the other side of the room.

Sirius was already sitting, whiskey sitting to his right on the tabletop where his forearms were planted casually on the surface.

Remus sat to his left and set the glass down, unbuttoning his worn coat as he settled into his seat.

“So, what can I do for you, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus’ eyes roamed over the man beside him, looking for the boy he once knew. He could see him sometimes, when he smiled or laughed, when his eyes lit up and glinted like polished steel. There was the ghost of him in the line of his brow, now folded with thin lines, or the cascade of midnight hair that tumbled down his shoulders, streaked with premature grey now.

“Are you going to pour me a drink?”

Sirius reached across Remus and snagged his glass before pouring a healthy serving of whiskey into it. He plopped the stopper back into the decanter and reached back across Remus to set the glass back where it had been, motioning to it with a small flourish of his hand. “Enjoy.”

As he pulled his hand back, his fingers brushed against Remus’ knuckles, and he paused, resting his forearm back onto the table slowly, his fingertips gently resting atop of Remus’. Neither of them said anything, they just sat and listened to the fire snap behind them.

Remus shifted his shoulder just a bit closer, his heart pounding uncertainly at the close proximity. Sirius’ eyes were focused everywhere but his face, as if he were afraid of what he might find if he looked into Remus’ eyes. Remus himself couldn't look away from Sirius’ eyes, marveling at how his emotions and thoughts still played across them so plainly.

“Who are we, Remus?” He asked it softly, voice shaking. His fingertips slipping down Remus’. “What have we become?”

Remus shook his head ever so slightly. “I don't know.”

Sirius leaned closer, his gaze searching across Remus’ scars, searching for familiarity there. “I look in the mirror and I don't see myself. And I look at you and-” he closed his eyes, “-and I see someone I should know, but I don't.” His breath shuddered as it left his lungs. Eyes half opening again to stare at Remus’ lips. “I once knew you better than I knew myself. But now...now I don't know who you are.”

Remus felt the weight of twelve long years press down on his chest, there in front of him he could see the boy he had loved, vulnerable and uncertain and scared.

Reaching up, Remus brushed his fingers against the hair hanging in Sirius’ face, fingertips lingering against the silver streaks before he tucked it carefully behind Sirius’ ear. “I'm not sure who I am anymore either.”

Sirius let his head fall gently forward, resting his forehead against Remus’. They shared another long moment of silence together, just soaking in the presence of the other. Letting years old wounds lay bare.

“Happy Birthday, Sirius.”

He lifted his head ever so slightly, face now inches from Remus’, bewilderment flickering through his eyes. “Is it-” he shook his head slightly. “I've lost track...Merlin I was able to track time better in Azkaban.”

Remus frowned slightly. “Really?”

“I had a window where I could see the moon and stars, scratched a line in the wall for every cycle.” He bit his lip. “Every full moon I would...I wasn't there- I just...I'm sorry, Remus, fuck I'm so sor-”

Remus pulled Sirius forward and silenced his apology with a kiss. He was the one who was sorry, so unbearably sorry for doubting him, for believing he could have betrayed James and Lily for all those years and leaving him to rot in Azkaban.

Sirius had one hand cupped behind Remus’ neck, the other clung to his coat for dear life. His body pressing closer as if he were afraid Remus would fade away if he didn't hold on tightly enough.

Remus brushed his thumb against Sirius’ cheekbone as he curled his fingers in his hair, using his free arm to wrap around Sirius’ shoulder and pull him closer with a hand planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

They kissed each other like it was the first and the last time, desperate and content, familiar and unusual all at once.

Clothes were quickly shed and time was spent relearning the other. New scars were learned, old ones were lovingly remembered, years blurred until they found themselves again, and there in front of the fire, at last they had found some peace.

As the night crawled into the early stretches of the morning, Remus untangled himself from Sirius’ arms and fumbled for his discarded jacket, digging in the pocket for the small package which he handed to Sirius.

“What's this?” Sirius asked, turning the package over in his hands.

“Open it and find out.”

He sat up and slipped the twine off, tearing open the paper to reveal a small book. “A little notebook...charming.”

“I said to open it, Pads.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and flipped open the cover, his fingers stilling as he looked at the first page. “This...this is…”

Remus nodded. “All the notes we used to pass to each other during class, a couple of scraps from James’ notes on the Marauders or prank schemes, Marlene’s song lyrics, Dorcas’ poems, Mary’s recipes, Lily’s positive post its that she used to stick all over the place. It's a memento book, I thought it might help remind you of the good things.”

Sirius’ finger traced the odd loop James’ ‘G’s’ always had. “Thank you.”

Remus smiled and rested his head against Sirius’. “Happy birthday, Sirius.”

#Wendy writes #hp fanfic #wolfstar #Sirius Black x Remus Lupin #hp rp community #post Azkaban wolfstar

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