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badomensgoodomens · 2 months ago

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BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER TWO.

Noah Sebastian X reader

cw: emo. and mention of taylor swift. if u have a problem with that please get over it.

taglist at bottom of post.

He stared at the computer in front of him, nothing was working, the lyrics weren’t flowing and he was just a mess. his knee bounced up and down, his thoughts constantly went back to her, it had been a week since she completely shut him out. Blocked him and removed him from everything. All because he couldn't give her what she wanted.

he jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in” he croaked out, Nick's face scrunched up as he entered the studio, wincing at the bags under Noah's eyes. “You look like actual shit man.” he states, setting down a plate of food. He pulls up a chair next to him, grunting at the way it scraped along the wood floors. “Right, you won’t talk to jolly, you won’t talk to nicholas, what's got your knickers in a twist?” he said, resting his hands on his thighs. He came from good intent obviously, but it was painful how the boys wouldn't leave him alone.

“What are you? The fucking IRS?” Noah grumbled, picking at the food. “Is it a girl?” Nick asked, taking notice of the way Noah tensed. “It is a girl!!! Tell me everything.”

“Dude. you're crazy. If an art hoe is in love with you, you gotta bag her.” Nick said, nudging Noah. He shook his head, sighing. “You know I'm not ready for that.” Nick audibly groaned. “It’s always Natasha bro. You need to get over her.”

“I am over her! It’s just…” Noah took a deep breath. “You know how I am with commitment after that.”

Nick sighed, his shoulders visibly dropping.

“Lets get you into some therapy, hey?”

She was gutted, crying to every single Taylor Swift song that was even remotely related to her current situation. It took her a couple days to even leave the house. No long drive through the city, accompanied by fast food and sad songs, could save her from this. Her sister, Nevada, always told her never to fall too hard for a situationship, but I guess that advice fell on deaf ears.

‘Us’ played over the radio as she cruised through the bustling city part of florida.

‘I wonder if you regret, the secret of us’

Hearing those words sung was almost laughable, she was a silly girl for ever believing that she was in love. Tears clouded her vision as she drove, rain beating down on her windshield. It was only September, yet the seasons were changing drastically.

“I just wanted to be yours.”

The words came out in a broken whisper, almost a plea. Truth be told, she barely knew Noah. Never cared to look into his social status, his music, what he was like other than the feeling of his sex. She had created this false idea of what he was outside of sex. It made her want to tear her hair out.

Eventually, she couldn’t go any farther. She pulled over, her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel, tears blurring her vision until the world outside became a hazy mess. She sobbed, gasping for breath, as though trying to expel the weight that had settled deep in her chest. All she could think was that she was waiting—for a sign, for some kind of message, anything that would make sense of the chaos, that would make this unbearable ache stop. A text. A call. A word, just one word to tell her it wasn’t really over, that there was still something left to hold on to.

It was a futile effort, her and Noah meant next to nothing. How is one supposed to build a thriving relationship off of a sex bond?

After a long phone call with her sister, she came to the conclusion she needed a change of scene. This town had seen too much of her, from every highschool heartbreak, to coming home at 4am from the club. Her art was never appreciated here either, no success at markets, or even by word of mouth. Her day job was excruciating, a boring cubicle with endless paperwork. Multiple times she’d considered giving up, leaving this boring life to live in a trailer park with some junkies, or move to LA and become a stripper.

It took awhile, but she packed up her studio, and her small townhouse, and took the long drive across to her sister’s house in California. Nevada had so graciously offered her a job as the barista in the small, quaint coffee shop she and her husband owned. She fell in love with Dawn in senior year, she was a cheerleader and he played in the band. He had successfully set off within the music industry, thus providing financial support to nevadas small coffee shop that probably loses 30k a year.

After a terrible night's sleep in a cheap, shitty motel, she pulled up to her sister's big white house. They both welcomed her with open arms, setting up the guest bedroom to be her temporary home until she got back on her feet. Her paintings being stored in the back shed.

For a while, things had been good. She was in a better place mentally, her routine steady with a reliable income from the coffee shop. Life in California was finally starting to feel right—like everything was falling into place. But then, as if on cue, her past came rushing back. Her ex from high school walked into the café, his new girlfriend in tow, and just when she thought she had control, disaster struck: the back shed went up in flames.

Her ex was just taunting, but the shed was gut wrenching. Her past lay scattered like ashes in the wind, each memory a flicker of flame extinguished, leaving only whispers of who she once was. Just as the remnants of a life turned to smoke drift into the afterlife, so too did her former self dissolve into the ether, leaving behind a haunting silence where laughter and light once thrived.

Dawn apologised profusely, explaining that his electrical gardening equipment had spontaneously combusted, turning everything, including the shed exterior, to ash. She brushed him off, it wasn’t his fault whatsoever, it was just daunting that she’d have to put all that behind her.

It was going to happen inevitably, but a more appropriate exit would have sufficed. She managed to book some therapy sessions. Just barely being able to pay for them. I mean, music in itself was a perfect form of therapy,

“It only hurts this much right now.”

Were the words she whispered at the beginning of each session. They were draining, and fried her social battery almost immediately. But they were helpful. Dr Sanchez was able to help her label the fact she allowed herself to fall easily, despite knowing the boundaries of their situationship.

It was hard, having to deal with the different diagnoses that came with therapy. Especially how Dr Sanchez was able to offer medication for Adhd and anxiety. It made her question a lot about her childhood. Her dad, who was never there, did not believe in mental health, much less not abusing his children. Her mom however was riddled with mental health issues, which definitely contributed to the divorce. Hence why Nevada was so quick to move away.

9/10 times when she got home from therapy, she would escape to her room. Instead of painting, she opted for drawing, sitting in front of the big window. The sun set, illuminating the soft pout of her lips as she concentrated, and the small dimples in her cheeks. She watched as the cars drove past, taking note of the gradual transition to headlights. Her mind subconsciously drifted back to her old life, having pondered so much of it with Dr Sanchez, it was almost a daily occurrence.

He had spent the past month drinking himself hopefully into a coma. He was butthurt for no reason, not even about y/n, but about everything, about Natasha. He had a nightmare about her recently, it set him back quite a bit, almost reversing all the therapy it took to get here. It was then that he made the conscious decision to take folios advice, and go back to therapy.

He kept drinking for a while after that, despite Jolly's constant complaints. Some of his best songs had always come from his drunk thoughts. Right now, they were deep into working on their newest album, fine-tuning each track. It was a shift in direction—blending elements of The Weeknd’s atmospheric style with hints of Bring Me The Horizon’s intensity

At the start of their new album cycle, Noah had 3 demos in production. The songs were oddly personal compared to previous albums, the boys just assumed Noah was finally channelling and dealing with his emotions through song following his return to therapy.

Not one week goes by where Noah doesn’t ponder about what could’ve been, with both Natasha and y/n. They honestly didn’t live far, Noah even considered visiting them. I’m sure Natasha would’ve been thrilled, y/n not so much. Didn’t stop him though, a whole year after they stopped talking, Noah found himself planted in front of y/n's house. Standing face to face with an empty block of land.

‘Fuck.’

It invoked something in him, an odd feeling that left him feeling unsettled and kind of woozy. He didn’t love her, he swore up and down he’d never date someone again. But as he slowly pushed his pride and fears aside, maybe she had wormed her way into his heart. With her warm skin and the scent of her perfume, or perhaps the cheeky smile always slung across her face.

It made him a little suicidal that he had somebody infront of him, that despite the sole purpose of their relationship was to be greedy, and seek sexual pleasure from eachother with no strings attached, was so, so deeply infatuated with him. He felt guilty that he wasn’t ready and in the right place to hand himself over to someone, yet still agreed to be friends with benefits. It was a selfish act, nobody could connect in the way that they did, and not fall in love.

Nothing has ever felt so wrong.

Tour had kicked off, something to distract Noah. He wrote and scrapped so many songs in the two years he had between touring. His song writing, and the new album sumerian was egging for, were a losing battle.

On a particularly windy night, Noah was sitting in the confines of his tiny bunk, hunched over his notebook. Nicholas poked his head in, staring at the tall man, concern lacing his tone. “You look like shit.” his words echo within the bus, earning a grunt of agreement from Joakim.

Noah rubbed a hand over his face, the words scribbled on the page barely making sense. “I know.” he grunted, crossing out a line. “Look, i get that sumerians on your dick about the new album but-” Noah cut him off, waving his hand in his face. “I don’t have time for a break. I’ve pushed it back far enough.” Noah grumbled out, pulling the black fabric of his curtain along the rod, concealing himself from his concerned bandmates.

‘I’m taking it slowly, you’d never know’

‘Her skin feels unholy, but I'm still drawn.’

‘No god, no religion. Just bad, bad decisions.’

The words made no sense by themselves, but they sounded right. He took a swig of hennessy, the bitterness burning his tongue. it almost made him laugh, thinking back to that night. Their relationship was just one, big bad decision.

‘Bitter ends to the night’

‘I'm along for the ride.’

‘Out of breath out of time.’

‘Everything has a price.’

The way everything flowed together made Noah want to tear his own skin.

‘You can be all ive got, what's the difference?’

‘Hennessy, and a lot of bad decisions.’

The song itself made Noah think deeply if perhaps everything that happened had stemmed from his ‘slight’ alcohol problem that had lingered from the stress of last tour. He had managed to polish off a whole bottle of hennessy and a whole new song by 2am. Drunkenly sliding under the covers to fall asleep.

He awoke to Nick and Nicholas standing above him, reading the notebook he had forgotten to stash away. Immediate regret filled his stomach, this is not what he needed.

“Yooo is this about art hoe? Damn bro she got you messed up,” Nick said, laughing.

“Who the fuck is art hoe?” Nicholas says, brows furrowed as he read over the lyrics.

Noah rubbed his hands over his face, groaning internally. He was hungover and not about to deal with their shit today.

READERS POV

I tied the apron around my waist with a weary sigh. Morning shifts at the café were always tough. It was early November, and winter was starting to creep in, its chill settling in the air. After flicking on the lights, I got to work, preparing the weekly specials with practised ease.

A small interchangeable collection of cakes Nevada and I designed. I’ve taken an interest in design lately, taking short classes at the local uni. I was gradually ticking off the long strenuous list of chores when the bell above the door rang. Looking up, I met the eyes of a happy looking boy.

“Hey, what can I get you?” I smiled up at him, his dark brown hair was loosely combed back, his nose adorned a silver ring, a grin on his face.

“I’ve got quite the order, if you don’t mind.” he said, pulling his phone out. I internally groan, peering over the counter to the long message laying out his order.

“Okay.. perfect. Let me just type that into the system..” I hummed, lip between my teeth as I focused. “Alright, name?” I said, looking up at the boy, taking notice of the casualness, and sweetness radiating off of him.

“Nick” he replied, a small smile on his face. He really was beautiful, ugh. And youthful, how old was this guy? “Alright, that’ll be $63.80” I respond, a little astounded myself at the price. “Fuck, sorry one moment please.” he smiled, pulling his phone out. I make myself busy, cleaning up my mess from before, managing to catch on briefly to the end of his phone call conversation.

“Alright, I'll just use the band card-”

Huh. Maybe this guy is a musician or something. I've definitely dealt with a fareshare of musicians.

All done?" I asked, smiling at him. He nodded, handing over the payment for the drinks. The bell above the door jingled as Nevada rushes in, offering a flurry of hurried apologies as she quickly tied her apron and hurried behind the counter.

It took a while, but we finally sent Nick off with his seven drinks. The day moved slowly after that—Fridays aren’t exactly prime café days. Most people prefer hitting up bars or catching a gig. I used to enjoy concerts, but these days, I’ve become more of a homebody.

“Yo dude i saw the cutest girl at the coffee shop-” Noah groaned, having heard enough of Nick’s questionable relationship choices while on tour. “No- seriously, she had this long, thick hair. She probably has a boyfriend though. Californian boys snatch the hot ones up real quick-” fuck? This kid was yapping.

“Do you say that about every girl you see?” Jolly snorted, throwing a pillow in Nick's direction. He scoffed, throwing it back. The smaller boy sits down next to Noah on the bunks, handing him a controller. “You’re all so uptight, come on, play a round of mario kart with me.”

Nights like these always ended the same, drunk rounds of mario kart followed by play fighting until everyone was too tired to move. The sun set hours ago, yet Noah found himself sitting on the bus roof with his notebook. The creative flair just wasn’t quite there though, the page having been empty for the past hour. He was feeling so many different, violent emotions, yet none at the same time. It was hard to portray these emotions in a controlled way, especially during tour. He tried not to let the boys see him when he was most vulnerable, wanting to maintain the respect they had for him. It was unrealistic, almost like a ticking time bomb.

When Noah went back inside, Nicholas, his best friend, was the only one still awake. They sat opposite each other on the leather couch, beer in hand. “How’s the missus?” Noah slurred, taking a swig. “Ivy’s good, I really wanna marry her, yaknow?” Nicholas slurred back. The mention of marriage knocks the breath out of Noah’s lungs. “I wanted to marry Natasha.” he drunkenly murmured, slumping back on the couch. “I think she was a porn star.” Nicholas mumbled, his words make Noah laugh.

She laid staring at her ceiling, the window, which faced the city, was cracked open the slightest. Something so melancholic, yet comforting about laying in the dark, just feeling feelings.

Not even about anyone in particular, just feelings.

She knew she needed to be awake at 6am for work, but the feeling pooling in her stomach was addicting, overwhelming, and most of all, fucking amazing. It was like a coil, seconds away from laughing, seconds away from crying.

hi gang!!! see, this one is somewhat better than the first chapter. I understand if you feel that this story is moving too fast but honey... this is just the beginning xoxo.

reply to be added to the taglist x

Tags: @emluvsuxo @Ima1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months ago

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Singing songs w/ them in the car (various crps)

I tried cajun shrimp yesterday and omfg it's so good I need to make it again soon but ik itll be a while since my dad isnt a fan of the seasonings

Characters: laughing jack, nina, jeff, ticci toby

Notes: reader is GN, you're both just going on a ride around town, songs are grabbed from my playlist at random so! yeah!

CWs: none

LAUGHING JACK

the randomized playlist has chosen hot to go .... this one is going to be... fun...

doesnt know the lyrics, but hes following along with you trying to guess the words as you sing along with him- he definitely gets the spelling parts right on the mark as soon as hes familiar with it

very loud and very into it, and not at all embarrassed about messing up the words or stumbling over them

he likes the energy the song has- very fast and high energy... he loves music like that

bouncing in his seat, the car kind of shifts and rocks a bit because of it, very large and hes not very.. calm about it... hopefully you guys dont get pulled over..!

NINA

The randomized playlist has chosen psycho teddy, which is so... fitting for her...

it should come as a shock to no one that she knows this song by heart, regardless of what version you have playing- the original, a remix, or an edit... she enjoys any rendition of the song

puts all over her energy into getting the words out and can keep up with the song- including the various other sound effects/noises in the sound

would sing with the window rolled down and tries to encourage you to sing alongside her, thankfully there arent many people out and about tonight- otherwise you might get a few odd looks

and if you do, nina doesnt seem to care at all- youre both having a good time so why should either of you care what others think?

JEFF

The randomized playlist has chosen psychosocial !

you cannot look me in the eye and tell me jeff wouldnt be a slipknot fan- he knows most of their songs, and at least a handful like the back of his hand

that being said... hes not the type to sing out loud to songs... but given the delivery and lyrics of the song, hes definitely getting into it! is it a distraction to your driving? it might be at least a little, to be honest

if youre listening on your own playlist hes going to be very pleased in your taste in music, he generally doesnt make fun of you for your interest save for some teasing but he does have some genuine appreciation of your taste here

leaves him feeling a little more hyped than he was when he got into the car, grinning as the song comes to the close and you just know hes going to try to string you into some shenanigans- the question is what nature of antics will it be... knowing jeff, its not going to be something chill

TICCI TOBY

The randomized playlist has chosen mr blue sky !

honestly hes just happy to sit in the car with you while listening to music, and yes, hes going to belt out the lyrics- will loudly swear if he messes up the lyrics... its been a while..!

he uh... doesnt get to listen to that much music nowadays- you make a mental note to give him a player to keep on him so he has something to fill the silence when hes wandering the woods

definitely tries to pitch up his voice during the "so loong" at 1:50 in the song, his voice cracks but he just leans into it

overall hes having a good time and hes playing himself up simply because you seem to be happy that hes enjoying himself

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yandere-romanticaa · 1 year ago

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Here are some crumbs about yandere mortician! From now on, his name is Viktor. (I'll make a detailed post about him, his personality, looks later, I promise.)

masterlist.

Viktor can often be seen with headphones in his ears, his expression neutral and eyes glazed over with a sheen of nothingness. When he's spotted in public people want to give him the benefit of doubt and say he's just lost in his own world, consumed by the sound of music. Perhaps he's just so in tune with the lyrics, maybe they speak to him on a level which people often seek out when listening to music. His playlist is filled with all sorts of songs - be it long ballads, cheesy love songs, generic pop, heavy metal, screamo, classical music, frankly some songs you wouldn't even expect someone like him wouldn't even listen at all(a la WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion).

Even while working, Viktor likes to have something playing in the background. His co-workers often joke about his music taste but he just shrugs them off without saying anything. It's all just a rollercoaster, a complete mess but he likes it that way. It's fun to be on his toes.

Truthfully, Viktor never liked music. He never bothered paying attention to the lyrics nor the meaning or even the tune of the song.

He simply can't stand the silence.

Viktor is a walking contradiction - he dislikes most people and yet wishes to be a part of them. He wants to be someone. But he doesn't know how to do that. His way of coping became listening to music. He even learned to play some instruments growing up, thinking that maybe someone would take a liking to him.

Even so, no one bothered with him. He was still a nobody.

Some did admire him, from a safe distance at least. His aura was black as charcoal and posture stiff as a board. Even if one dared to look at him for too long it felt like Viktor would pluck their eyes out if he caught them looking.

Perhaps he would. He wasn't sure either.

The sounds had no meaning to him. It was all used to cover up the silence, pure white noise. Nothing more, nothing less.

All of that came to a screeching halt once he met you, his tiny piece of sunshine.

You'd go through his playlist, sometimes scoffing, sometimes liking the things you saw. His eccentric side never failed to amuse you. Amongst that jungle you'd ask him who his favorite artists were, if he had anyone specific he liked.

Viktor said the names of some random artists he thought you fancied yourself. He wanted you to like him.

His answer ultimately did not matter in the end as you would still recommend some of your own personal favorite songs to him. Viktor promised he'd give them a listen as soon as he could.

Later that evening, he was hard at work. As he was putting on his coat he turned towards his phone and reached towards it, slightly eager to see what you had in store for him. The song played quietly in the background as gently rain tapped against the window, giving the morgue a more tranquil feel than it ought to have. The person on his table tonight was an old man who presumably died of a heart attack earlier this morning.

Poor soul. That was all he could bother to say.

The evening went on as it usually did but Viktor could not stop thinking about you. His sweet little sunshine, he was so touched by the fact that you bothered to go so far for him. He could feel his heart racing as unfamiliar butterflies started to flutter in his chest.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

If he wasn't careful he would be the next one to die of a heart attack.

The music got a bit louder as it reached the chorus, its tune almost perfectly in sync with his heart. He hadn't even realized that he started to sway his hips gently. Left, right, left right.

It felt like the correct thing to do.

Viktor also picked up the sound of a male voice humming which was odd, considering the fact that the singer of the song was a woman. He nearly dropped his scalpel as he realized that the one who was humming was him, not someone else, him.

For the first time in his life, Viktor bothered to pay attention to the song. The singer detailed her undying feelings for her lover, promising herself to them and them only.

Viktor thought about you the entire time. He never fancied himself as a dancer but if he could, he would want nothing more than to dance with you.

Would you want to dance with him?

For the first time in his life, Viktor found joy in the music he listened to. And it was all thanks to his sunshine.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince

#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere mortician #yandere mortician x reader

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 months ago

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Make sure to get plenty of rest after your flight babe, and eat well!💋

Vessel x reader (who is a singer) where either he or she want to collab/work together and he starts to like her romantically

Fighting low blood pressure today but trying to down vitamin waters and shit. Thank you for your care. ✨

Slow love

Vessel never took any collaboration offers. He got many of them. Some were more appealing than others. But it never truly felt right. It felt like too much of a change. Too much to give and too much to lose. Not to mention the NDA’s that had to be sighed because he wasn’t about to spend the whole time recording while wearing the mask. That was until he found you.

It had been a late night, one that Vessel had quite often when he stumbled upon your video. A cover of one of his songs. The sound of Aqua Regia filling the darkness. Vessel had moved to sit up, as the video played and played. The perfect runs, the vocal control. He had spent nearly all night stalking your page that time. Singing harmony alongside your voice.

Now weeks later you were officially the new part of the team. You being a new small artist helped with lots of things. You both worked on shared music as well as Vessel offering you to be the lead back vocal for him. It had been a tight squeeze with the tour being right around the corner but the way you worked had only proved to Vessel that he hadn’t made a mistake.

“Here”, you jumped slightly, feeling something cold touch your shoulder. “Oh, Christ”, you clasped the plastic material, realizing that it was a water bottle, lifting your head to meet Vessel looming over you. “The size of you and how quietly you move still doesn’t add up”, you chuckle softly, turning to him. “When was the last time you drank?”, he asked pushing the empty chair closer to where you sat. You quickly unscrew the lid taking a couple of sips, “Just now actually”. Vessel shook his head, making you chuckle softly as he leaned over glancing at the pages spread out.

“New lyrics. It’s a mess so maybe I shouldn’t let you look yet” You placed your palm over it, “You’ll realize that I ain’t that good”, you added laughing nervously. “I know that you’re perfect already”, Vessel mused softly, his much bigger palm landing over yours. You let him lift your palm. Let him turn the pages as he continued to hold your hand in his.

“These are good”, Vessel nodded, “this line especially”, tapping onto the page as he looked up. “You think so?”, your cheeks glowing softly pink. “Yeah”, he nodded firmly. “Shit sorry”, he suddenly dropped your hand when the realization finally hit him. Your palm instantly grew cold now that his fingers were no longer intertwined with yours. “It’s okay, I… it’s fine”, you quickly reassure him.

“I didn’t even notice”, Vessel frowned slightly, his own cheeks crimson. You had fit so effortlessly into his life that he hadn’t realized how much he needed someone like you. Someone who was consistently there. Quietly looking after him. “Is it bad that I don’t mind?”, you muttered, pulling at your sleeves. Vessel blinked softly letting your words sink in. You two sat there for a moment. Just looking at one another before he once again reached out, threading his fingers through yours. A soft smile spread across his lips, a smile that matched yours.

#sleep token x reader #sleep token x you #sleep token imagine #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token vessel imagine #sleep token vessel x you #sleep token vessel x reader #sleep token vessel fanfiction

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dsireland86 · 3 months ago

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I was wondering if i could request a fic for either Folio or Ruffilo or both x fem reader whichever you prefer. And i was thinking you know for whoever you pick they have a sudden realization one day as as reader like baking or cleaning and she is singing and dancing in a shirt and some underwear and that they want to marry her and have kids with her or something like that maybe she doesn't realize they are watching her at first. (I was also thinking the song All around me by Flyleaf would be playing) Also sorry for rambling

This has Ruffilo written all over it!

All Around Me

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @an0mallly @flowery-mess

"My hands are searching for you/ My arms are outstretched towards you/ I feel you on my fingertips/ My tongue dances behind my lips for you/ This fire runs in through my being/ Burning, I'm not used to seeing you"

The music was loud enough for her to not hear me as I walked into the house. The all too familiar song of Flyleaf was playing from the kitchen speaker as the smell of cookies filled the inside air around me. It smelled like heaven. It felt like heaven, too.

After being gone most of the day, coming home to her and the place we shared was the best feeling in the world. It was healing to my soul and regeneration for my mind, making me feel like the luckiest guy in the world. I couldn’t wait to hold her, to kiss her and feel her kiss me back.

I sat my guitar case down and took off my jacket, laying it on the back of the couch. Her sweet voice rang out as she sang the familiar lyrics to what she had called, “our song” making me smile when she hit the wrong key. She didn't care. Neither did I.

Walking towards the kitchen, the music got louder and so did the warmth from the oven. I heard her well before I saw her, choosing to lean up against the wall and wait for her to appear. It didn't take long.

Wearing nothing but my Cure shirt, panties and a pair of socks, y/n shuffled in the kitchen lightly swaying and moving to the music. She looked incredible; delicious enough to eat and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

How she didn’t notice me is beyond me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched how she effortlessly pulled the hot sheet from the oven and sat it on the counter, only to take another one that was ready and toss it right behind, closing the door and pressing the timer.

She had a method and followed it perfectly, just like she did with everything else in her life. Her work was perfectly planned everyday, right down to how long she sat at her computer and typed, to how much laundry she would do a week. Dinner plans were just as organized, with one meal planned for the first four days of the week; the last three were take-out and left- over days.

The only thing that wasn’t as organized was our relationship. She wanted forever, a commitment, even though I’ve told her a million times that I was, but she said words weren’t the same as actions. At first I didn’t know what that meant, but now I think maybe I do.

“Holy crap, Nick! You scared me!” She stood there clutching her chest, looking as if she’d just seen a ghost. I smiled at her and she smiled back, running her arm over her forehead to move the loose strays of hair away from her face. “Why were you just standing there?” “I was looking at you; watching you dance and sing.”

Her face went instantly red as she grinned shyly, looking down at her feet. “How much did you see?” she asked, peering up at me through her long eyelashes. I gave her a small grin. “Enough.” Moving away from the wall, I walked over to her. She reached for her phone, muttering something about turning the music down, but I took it from her hands quickly. “Hey!” I hit the replay button, turning up the volume as our song began to play:

My hands are searching for you / My arms are outstretched towards you I feel you on my fingertips/ My tongue dances behind my lips for you This fire runs in through my being/ Burning, I'm not used to seeing you I can feel you all around me/ Thickening the air I'm breathing Holding on to what I'm feeling/ Savoring this heart that's healing My hands float up above me/ And you whisper you love me And I begin to fade/ Into our secret place The music makes me sway/ The angels singing say, "We are alone with you" I am alone and they are too with you/ Take my hand, I give it to you Now you own me, all I am/ You said you would never leave me I believe you, I believe

We started to sway slowly, barely moving at first. Her hands were pressed against my chest while mine rested on her lower back right above her bottom. I stared into her eyes as she stared back into mine, and for the first time ever, I saw my future with her. It was in the soft glisten of her hazel eyes and the way the small smile hid in the corner of mouth. She was it. She was my forever.

“You know, I've never really listened to the lyrics to this song.” She looked up at me, wide eyed. “Really?” Her face made me chuckle. “Yeah, really. But now I know why you say it’s our song.” I brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. “Which part?” she asked quietly, walking her fingers up towards my neck. “Umm, how about ‘My tongue dances behind my lips for you, this fire runs in through my being’”

She closed her eyes, grinning, leaning her head back a little. “Yeah, that part always makes me think of you.” I hummed in response.

‘Take my hand, I give it to you, Now you own me, all I am.’

“But that part, that makes me think of you.” Her eyes locked with, holding me in a state of trance. “What are you saying, Nick?” Her fingers caressed the skin of my neck, creating goosebumps all over my body. Taking her hand, I kissed her fingers before bringing it to my chest, all the while holding her into me so she couldn't escape. I needed her as close as possible for what I was about to say. “Commitment; I'm ready for it.” She was speechless, but her expression said everything, and when the tiny tears slipped down her cheeks, I knew I had won her happiness for life.

She didn't make a scene, didn't even say a word. She just fell into me, completely. With her arms resting on my shoulders and stroking the back of my hair, I continued holding her close, burying my face in the crook of her neck. She smelled like flowers. I slid my hands gently down her bottom until they reached the end of her shirt, careful gliding them up and under. Her skin felt like velvet compared to my rough calloused hands, but if it bothered her she didn't let on, only pressed herself harder into me.

“So I guess this means I have to buy you a ring and purpose properly, doesn’t it?” She leaned in and kissed me, taking a long deep breath through her nose as she did before letting go. “I guess so.” My hands trailed further up her shirt, stopping right under her arms. “I think I can do that,” I grin at her. “Good,” she said, kissing me again. “But until you do, you can er, you can show me you’re committed,” grinning as she bit her bottom lip.” I let her tug me towards the bedroom, not before hitting the timer and turning the oven off. “Anything particular in mind?”

I watched as she removed her shirt, my shirt, threw it to the floor and stood in front of me in only her underwear. “A few things,” she smirked. “Is this what the rest of our life together is going to look like?” I asked, shaking my head, smiling. “God, I hope so!” She threw her little pair of cotton panties at me, giving me the “come and get me” look. “Me, too,” I assured her, snatching her up into a tight hug. She squealed the moment I tickled her, picking her up bridal style and carried her to our bedroom, shutting the door behind us.

#nicholas ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo #bad omens cult #bad omens #bad omens band

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crazychaoticizzy · 1 month ago

Text

TRACK 3: Tennessee

Y/n L/n—an indie artist that became the leading female vocalist of the famous band Heart Attack. How did someone with such a soft sound come to join the rock band anyway?

EREN X READER X JEAN

CONTENT: multipart fic, rock band au, slow burn, love triangle, angst, substance abuse, toxic relationship, if I missed anything let me know!

WORD COUNT: 10.6k

series masterlist

AOT masterlist

<< previous part

Y/N: I should probably start at the beginning, right? Well, I truly fell in love with music when I was little. My mother, Alice Kraney, gave me that love. Crazy as she was. She would always come back from sets humming the tune to whatever song had been playing. She’d let me make up lyrics, even if they were wrong.

That was before she . . . got carried away with everything. Before the heroine and ecstasy got to her. She fought a lot with my dad because of it. They eventually got divorced, and my dad won custody of me in court. The jury said Mom was too unstable to raise me. My dad was gracious, though. More than he should have been. He got me in New York during the school year, and when summer came around he let me go to my mom’s if I wanted.

It shouldn’t have shocked you that Alice Kraney’s house reeked of marijuana and various other substances. Some part of you always had a sliver of hope that she’d decided to change herself during the school year. She never did.

You nearly threw up walking through the front door. It was a mess. You didn’t like being at her small townhouse in the middle of Fuck-Shit-Nowhere, Tennessee, but you still liked your mom. The delusional side of you always assumed she’d stop for you.

She never did. She never did anything.

You stepped over a pile of mail and held your suitcase and bags just above the floor. It was meant to be wooden, but it was covered in so much grime you couldn’t really tell.

Jesus, did it really get that bad in ten months?

Alice wasn’t home. You knew that because the door was unlocked. She never locked the door when she went out, even while she was with your father.

You carefully maneuvered your way across the living room and down the hall. You spotted a couple needles and orange caps on the floor, and reminded yourself to always wear shoes and never sit on cushions in Alice’s house.

The only clean room in her house was yours. Alice never touched it. She hardly even knocked on the door when you were there. Did she even know you were there?

It didn’t smell great in your room either. The fumes from the rest of the house had bled through the vents and made the space stink. You made another note to buy a shit ton of Febreeze and those wallflower things from Bath and Body Works.

You set your bag aside and sat on your bed, heaving a sigh. At least your room was drug free. That was something you took pride in.

Your phone buzzed. You looked down at the screen. You smiled at the Instagram DM from a guy you had been talking to. Damian — a guy from California that had complimented your music.

Your fingers glided across the keyboard as you orchestrated the perfect response. It wasn’t moments later that you held the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” you said. Your voice was pitched higher on purpose, and you tried your best to cover the Brooklyn accent you had.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Damian said. You swooned. How easy it was to romance you. “Haven’t talked to you in a bit.”

“It’s only been a day,” you giggled. You stood up. There were still things you had to unpack from your car.

“A day too long.” You rolled your eyes. “So what are you up to?”

“Oh, you know. I just got to my mom’s. It’s a mess, as usual.”

You heard Damian exhale — one of the ones that sounded as though he were daydreaming. “I still can’t believe I managed to catch the attention of Alice Kraney’s daughter.”

You laughed again, poised and perfect. “Well it isn’t hard.”

“Not for me, anyway.” A moment of silence passed as you pulled your guitar out of your trunk and began your second trip through the house. “Say, pretty girl” — God, your heart fluttered when he called you that — “d’you pack that special gift?”

You scoffed playfully. “Damian.”

“I’m only asking. Maybe we could have some fun.”

You smiled. Damian couldn’t see it, but he knew he had enticed you. “My dad wouldn’t approve,” you said, but it would take nothing more than a flick for you to crumble and give in.

“Daddy’s not around, is he, pretty girl?” You rolled your eyes, but already you were digging around in your suitcase to comply. “C’mon, babe. Hop on FaceTime and we can have fun.”

“Okay, okay. I’m looking.”

“Atta girl.”

Damian’s photo appeared on your phone before you knew it, and it wasn’t long until you were complying with his every wish.

—

Y/N: When I tell people about Damian, they tell me I was weak and naïve. Someone even called me stupid when I was on a press tour with Heart Attack. They say I should have known better. But I was not weak or naïve or stupid. I was a baby. I wanted someone to care about me the way he said he did.

I regret everything having to do with Damian with my whole heart. Even the songs that got me where I am. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to take all of that back.

“I wrote you a song.”

You were on the phone with Damian again. Your phone was propped up against one of your pillows and you listened to his voice with headphones.

“A song? Isn’t it a bit early for that, pretty girl?”

You shrugged, standing from your end to retrieve your guitar. When you settled back on your bed, you strummed the strings lightly. “Maybe. But I wanted to write one for you. Can you hear the guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can hear it.” You could hear the reluctance in Damian’s tone, but you ignored it. “Alright then, show me what you made.”

You smiled, looking down at the neck of your guitar to make sure you had the right fingerings with each note change.

That smile didn’t leave your lips as you sang. The guitar rhythm was soft, your voice even softer. Candied and light, your voice carried through the house.

As you strummed the final chord, you looked at Damian expectantly, eagerly awaiting his feedback. When he didn’t say anything, you cleared your throat.

“Did you like it?”

Damian didn’t respond for a moment again. But he eventually clicked his tongue and furrowed his brows.

“It was . . . Something.”

You felt your heart crack. Your vibrant smile faded ever so slightly, but you tried to keep it.

“I thought you liked my music.” That’s why he had contacted you in the first place. He had come across a clip of you singing a snippet from a song you’d written. He told you he loved your voice and the way you played.

Damian shrugged. “No, I do. I do. It just- It was just okay. I know you wanna be the next Historia Reiss influencer or whatever, but don’t you think that’s a bit silly?”

Your smile faced completely. You let your posture sag. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean that, you know, not everyone makes it. Not unless they’re pretty and talented, and you just don’t quite hit that mark.”

You blinked at him in silence, the gears in your head working overtime to fully dissect Damian’s words. You were trying to piece together the contradictions of what he just said and the things he told you before.

“Plus, like, we’re just casual. This is just a casual thing, you and I. You don’t need to write a whole song.”

You nodded. “Right.”

But your gaze flitted over to the notebook on your desk — the one filled to the brim with pretty words describing the way Damian made you feel. You had planned to flesh them out into full songs for him, but now you weren’t sure.

An uncomfortable silence had enveloped the room. The air was so thick it was suffocating you, pushing down in your chest and weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said, clearing your throat. You could feel your eyes burning with tears. “Uhm, I have to go.”

Damian groaned as you grabbed your phone. “Pretty girl, I didn’t mean it like that-”

You hung up before he finished and tossed your phone as far away from you on your bed as you could. You held your legs to your chest like a damn toddler and took a deep breath, pressing your forehead against your knees.

You heard a knock on your door. You lifted your head and sniffed, wiping your cheeks to clean any stray tears. “Come in,” you called out, your voice cracking.

Your door creaked open. On the other side stood your mother. She looked like she was about to go out and throw herself onto the first man that looked at her. Her fried hair was straightened and she wore shorts that could hardly be classified as such.

“Hey,” is all she said. Her voice was hoarse. “Was that music you?”

You softly nodded. You couldn’t tell if Alice was high. You hoped she was, at least a little. That way she wouldn’t pay your dried tears any mind.

Alice hummed. “It was nice. Pretty.”

“Thanks,” you dryly said.

Alice bit the inside of her cheek. She stood awkwardly in your doorway for a moment before clicking her tongue. Her lips curled up, revealing the circular gap in her front two teeth. “Smile, babe,” she said, pointing at the apples of her cheeks.

You hummed, unamused, as Alice closed your bedroom door.

You didn’t know whether to take her compliment or not. She was a druggie, but before that she was just a street away from Broadway and was a riding actor nearly everyone knew the name of. If she said you sounded good, did she really mean it?

You pushed her words to the back of your mind and put your guitar away. You laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours before you heard the front door open and your mom stumbled into the house. She was giggling, and you heard another voice with her.

You reached for the headphones on your nightstand and put them over your ears. You put them at the highest volume before pushing play on a playlist your friend had made for you.

Why you were always so sure you wanted to spend every summer with Alice, you didn’t know. But every year without fail, you find yourself wishing you hadn’t come.

—

The start of the school year was always stressful. You hated driving, and the trip back to your dad’s Brooklyn apartment was going to beat your ass.

Not to mention that you always managed to arrive home later than anticipated. You weren’t sure what it was, but last year you arrived a whole day late and missed the first day of school. And you still had to go get school supplies. And repack your bags.

Instead of doing any of that, you were tucked under the blankets of your bed, watching one of your mom’s old movies. One from her early twenties.

She really was a good actress. Her expressions were spot on no matter what and she was always able to adapt to her co-stars choices easily. The movie you were watching was an indie film called Esperanza’s Dog. It won an award once, though you don’t know what for.

It was probably one of your favorite films. Not just because seeing your mom play the main character, Esperanza, but because the movie was so beautifully shot and written. It always made you cry. Your dad had also worked on the film. That’s where he met Alice.

You were so engrossed in the movie that you didn’t even notice Alice push your door open and come in. You only knew she was there when she sat down on the edge of your bed with you. She looked more out together than usual (though there were still dark rings around her eyes and her hair was a mess), and her clothing was more modest that what you had seen her wear.

“Whatcha watching?” she asked, even though her eyes were already glued to your computer screen. You knew she could recognize the movie. You knew she recognized the work your dad did.

“Esperanza's Dog,” you quietly replied. You pulled the blankets tighter against you, watching as Alice’s lips curled up the smallest bit.

“You know, that was my favorite to film.” She wasn’t high. Or drunk, or intoxicated in any way. You wondered what the occasion was.

“Is it because of dad?”

Alice laughed and leaned back on her arms. “Part of it. But no, it was just fun. It’s a nice movie and Kasey Mulls is a really good director. She’s working with Hollywood now, you know.”

“What studio?”

“Oh, who knows. But her new movie went up for tons of awards this year.” You hummed, and that was the end of the conversation. An uncomfortable silence wrapped itself around you, and you kept your eyes glued to the screen in an attempt to not start another talk.

Your mother, however, did the opposite. Her gaze flitted around your room, analyzing every aspect of it from your open windows to the paper wisteria that was hanging in all corners of the room. She eventually landed on your guitar case, which was open.

“Will you play something for me?” she asked. Her voice was hopeful, and you saw a glint of the same thing in her eyes when you met her gaze.

You stared at her. For a moment, you could see the twenty-something year old that was currently on your screen, sharing a romantic moment with one of the love interests.

It almost pained you to see. You knew the woman on the screen was your mom, but it was such a far cry from who she was today that it was almost impossible to see the connection. You had seen many articles and Redditor’s and Tumblr users and Instagram reels that tracked the timeline of Alice Kraney’s downfall, and in every one there was no clear path that landed her as a blacklisted druggie.

“I don’t really have anything,” you said, turning back to the movie.

“Sure you do. What was that song you sang earlier? About here?”

Your heart clenched. So much it hurt. You remembered her asking about it when you first sang it in full, but you didn’t think she would. You had hoped that she was too involved with herself that day so she wouldn’t remember it.

But of course she did. Because if she heard you singing the song, then she heard you talking to a boy — to Damian. If she heard the song, then she heard the exact moment your heart cracked and reality dawned on you. If she heard the song, then she also heard who it was about.

“It’s not very good,” you said.

“Yeah it is! It’s a great song. I think it would do wonders on radio. Maybe even a movie? Hey, I could probably call someone and see if-”

“Mom.” Alice quieted, looking at you curiously as you sat up. “It’s fine. It’s not- I don’t really want to get into show business.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Since when?”

You shrugged. “I’ve just been thinking about it. It’s really hard to break through and stay relevant. Anyone can be a one-hit wonder, but if I want to be able to do this for a living then I have to be able to be… seen.”

What Damian said to you had sent you down a spiral. Okay, maybe you weren’t as pretty as other celebrities or a nepobaby like Historia Reiss. That was fine, but if you weren’t pretty then why would people pay attention to you?

“I just think it’s more realistic to get a real job.” You shrugged again. It felt like you were lying through your teeth. You really did want that. You wanted the life celebrities lived even if it was nasty and drama-filled. You wanted to be seen and to write songs that other people could relate to.

Alice was silent for a moment. You could see your words turning in her mind.

“Even if you don’t make it, you can still do it,” she stated. “It can be a side hustle.”

“Mom—”

“You are talented. You have a beautiful voice and know how to play a guitar—”

“I really don’t think—”

“Listen to me.” Alice grabbed your hand. “You are nearly seventeen. If this is what you want to do, then start now. The industry gets so much more competitive when you’re an adult than when you’re a teenager. You have the talent and sound to make it big, you just have to try. No one’s going to know who you are if you don’t put yourself out there.”

You exhaled, your back curving into a slump. Even if your mom wasn’t a very strong fighter, she got stubborn when she thought something would work out with her whole heart.

“Now, play me a song. Please? I want to hear it.”

You folded. Mostly because your mom rarely paid attention to you and now she wanted you to do something for her. That, and she wasn’t high out of her mind like she usually was. This was something she would remember.

You paused your movie and closed your laptop, reluctantly sliding out of bed and crossing the room to your guitar case. You pick it up, lifting the strap over your head and strumming the strings to make sure they were in tune. You pulled your rolley chair out from its spot at your desk and turned it with your foot, sitting down.

You met Alice’s gaze. She was sitting straight — attentively. She gave you a soft smile and thumbs up. When you strummed your guitar and started singing, you were reminded why you loved it.

—

EREN: Marco’s death put a damper on everyone’s mood. You have to go really far back on the Heart Attack socials, but if you look at the dates you see almost a year where nothing new was posted.

CONNIE: Erwin threatened to cut our deal with Scout Records if we didn’t quit moping. We needed to provide something for the studio to produce if we wanted to stay. We used one of Marco’s old keyboard tracks and made “Holiday”.

JEAN: “Holiday” found itself on TikTok pretty fast. People liked the sound. They liked rock music. I was grateful, I guess. But… Marco wasn’t there. And if he wasn’t, then why was I?

“Eren, you fucking idiot.”

Jean crumpled the paper in his hand, a noise that was louder than it should have been due to the silence in the room as everyone looked over their music.

“What the fuck is this?” Jean strode across the studio to Eren and shoved the crumpled paper into his chest. Eren let go out the microphone and grabbed the paper before it fell to the floor and unfolded it.

“It’s your music.”

“Well no shit. I mean why is it changed?”

“Then maybe you should have said that instead of what the fuck is this.” Eren mocked. He looked back down at the sheet of music. “What song is this?”

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” Jean snapped. Maybe he was irrationally angry, but that was his song. He wrote it. Every part of it. Why was Eren changing it?

“Oh.” Eren hands him the paper back. “Your backtrack with the bass sounded off. It didn’t line up with everything else.”

“That was the point! It’s supposed to be discordant to disconnect the listener. It gives the song meaning, Eren.”

“We aren’t trying to disconnect the listener, Jean! If the listener feels disconnected then why would they listen to more of our music?”

“This is my song, idiot. You can’t—”

“Stop arguing.” The voice was loud over the intercom. It was something the band still wasn’t used to.

Everyone’s head snapped to the pane of glass that separated the studio to the control room. They could vaguely see their reflections in the glass, but beyond those they were met with Erwin’s stern stare and Levi’s disapproving glance.

“Nothing will get done if the two of you keep picking on each other. Jean, I told Eren to change the song. Now sit down and start figuring it out.”

Jean huffed, sparing a glance at Eren before he snatched the crumpled paper out of Eren’s hand and retreated to his stool.

He knew Levi was lying, but no one talked back to Levi Ackerman and stayed where they were.

Eren was humming the tune of the song. He was humming it wrong, which meant he would sing it wrong. If they were in their apartment, then Jean would have stood up and corrected him. He would have stood up and fought back until he got his way, but since they were in a professional studio, he refrained.

When everyone felt they had a feel for their parts, they gathered together and Erwin played Marco’s backtrack through the speakers around them. The first run through was messy — everyone was figuring out where their parts fit into the rest of the music — but they figured it out eventually.

And when they finally got everything together after nearly a week of workshopping the song, “Holiday” became Heart Attack’s first song to reach the top of the charts.

—

Y/N: Junior year was . . . An experience. It was definitely a lot. I also had a bunch of situationships and . . . problems . Probably the worst year of my school career. The last, too, but I like to pretend I completed high school.

It wasn’t really a good year for me, but it was a good year for my music. I started focusing on that, maybe a bit more than I should have, and I got my name on the map. Sure, I might not have been recruited by any talent scouts or however that works, but I had built my own little following.

Your dad didn’t know you were out.

As far as he knew, you had locked yourself in your room, listening to a playlist that included Ritchie Valens, Leslie Gore, and Paul Anka through your speaker as you worked on an English project with your partner.

He wouldn’t suspect that you were gone, because on top of the soft music was talking. Your friend Jazelle (who you affectionately called Jazzy) had snuck into your room earlier. She would replace you in your room for the night, and she would be on the phone with her boyfriend to make it seem like she was working with someone else.

It was perfect, really. You had called in a favor that another friend of yours, Ella, owed you and managed to find yourself performing a gig in her uncle’s small blue’s bar. You had dressed yourself in a lilac dress that reached just above your knees and cowboy boots. Your hair was pinned out of your face and soon enough you would be on a stage, singing and playing a guitar for a small audience and your dad would be none the wiser.

Jazzy’s boyfriend, Dallas, was with you. He had decided to tag along since Jazzy wanted to watch you perform, but had been given the job of filling in for you at home. The two of them would be on FaceTime so she could watch you.

“How are you feeling?” Jazzy asked, dragging out the last word with an excited tone. There was an infectious smile on her face, and the sight of it made you feel calmer.

“I’m kind of scared.” Dallas’s phone was big, so you had set it against a ledge backstage so you didn’t have to hold it. “I think Dallas said he was getting me water to calm me down, but I don’t understand how that’s going to help?”

“It has something to do with your nervous system, I think. I don’t know, he’s explained it to me before but I don’t remember.” Jazzy readjusted her phone. You assumed it was resting against her laptop screen since she had started typing. “But you’re gonna do great! Your songs are good and I think you’ll find the right audience in the kind of bar you’re in.”

“Hopefully.” You turned your head at the sound of footsteps, holding your hand out when you saw Dallas walking toward you with a plastic water bottle. You immediately opened it and took a long drink.

“Oh, my God, I’m so nervous,” you said once you had lowered the bottle from your lips. “What if I pass out on the stage? Or a light falls on me and I die? Or I just like . . . die, or something.”

“Y/n, you’re so dramatic,” Jazzy said. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Besides, the lights for the stage are so far out there is no way they would fall on you,” Dallas added.

“Well maybe they’ll walk over to me before they decide to fall on my face.”

“They’re inanimate. How would they—”

“Miss Kraney?” You turned your head. Standing at the end of the hall, just a few strides from you, was one of the guys that had led you backstage. It was one of Ella’s cousins, though you didn’t remember his name. “Are you ready to go on?”

You nodded in response quicker than you intended. Were you really ready?

The answer was no. This was the first crowd (no matter how small it was) that you had ever played for. You didn’t think anything would ever be able to prepare you for something like this.

You grabbed your guitar and followed Ella’s cousin just outside the door that led to the small stage. You waited until the previous singer stepped off to follow him and sit at the stool left behind.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Y/n Kraney.”

You smiled, adjusting your patterned guitar strap around your shoulder. You had taken the name Kraney because it was recognizable. So many people knew Alice Kraney — the promising young actress that had fallen off the deep end who knows how long ago. People would recognize the name and, hopefully, connect you as her daughter.

You hoped they thought you would have that same potential Alice did.

You waited until Ella’s cousin adjusted the mic to your height before smiling. You quietly thanked him before leaning into the microphone.

“Hi, everyone.” You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. Your heart was pounding in your throat and your blood was rushing in your ears. You started to mindlessly pluck different notes on your guitar, hoping to alleviate the thick atmosphere. “Has anyone ever heard my music?”

That was a dumb question. Who would have? Was anyone even paying attention to you? You thought it over later that night and realized you were just supposed to be background noise for the people trying to relieve any stress from their days.

You got one singular whoop! in response to your question. Even though the one person was embarrassing, it provided the evidence you needed that you were making your breakthrough, even if it was only to one person.

“We’ll, for those of you that have never heard me before, I hope you enjoy.”

—

HANGE ZOË, producer for Heart Attack: The first time I heard Y/n sing was in New York. I was visiting a friend to discuss a film he wanted me to make music for, and I found myself in the same bar as her. The only thing I could think when I heard her voice was wow. I mean, I couldn’t believe she had the kind of talent she did and she wasn’t even eighteen yet.

ERWIN SMITH, owner of Scout Records: I remember Hange video calling me at five in the morning. Though, I suppose with the time difference it would have been late at night for them. I had just woken up and was still processing that fact when they told me, “Erwin, I’ve found our next star.”

Hange flipped their phone camera, ignoring Erwin’s rant about how early it was in Germany, to show a clear view of you on the stage.

Your voice rang out like a bell, soft and melodic as you strummed your guitar. You sang a song that Hange later learned was called “Fragile,” one that you had written about one of your exes. They found themselves wondering what the song would sound like in a different setting—not on your acoustic guitar.

“What’s her name?” Erwin asked as you wrapped up the song.

“Y/n Kraney,” Hange replied.

Erwin’s brows furrowed. “Kraney as in Alice Kraney?”

“They certainly have a strong resemblance.”

“Wow.” Erwin blew out a breath and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. We worked on a movie together once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Alice was nice to work with.” Erwin went silent as the sound of your voice filled the air, this time a cover of “Donna” by Ritchie Valens gracing his ear. “I want you to recruit her. Offer whatever it takes.”

“Actually?” Erwin nodded, making Hange click their tongue. “That’ll be hard, Erwin. I’m pretty sure she lives here.”

“You’re the one that told me you found a star.”

Hange scoffed and rolled their eyes. “Yeah, but it was more like a what if we consider this sort of sound instead, you know?”

Erwin deadpanned. He knew that obviously wasn’t true, but it was clear he was still exhausted. The faint circles beneath his eyes became more prominent with each night that passed. “Sure. Do whatever it takes to get her to sign with us.”

“Like I said, I can try. But I make no promises. We’re stationed in Germany.”

“Then tell her we’ll buy her a place here. An apartment, a penthouse — whatever she wants. I want her with my company.”

Hange saluted. “Yes, sir. Whatever you want, big boss man.”

Erwin exhaled. He hated when Hange called him that. “Have a good night.”

And then he hung up. Hange scoffed once more before cursing at him under their breath. They tucked their phone back into their pocket and returned their attention to you.

Hange’s leg bounced. They were waiting until you finished and walked backstage to go there themselves and talk to you.

The moment your fingers strummed the last chord and you smiled, sugared words thanking everyone for listening falling from your lips, Hange was out of their chair and beelining toward the back.

They made it before you did. They waited for you to arrive down the hall impatiently, their foot still tapping against the floor.

You walked down the hall with your guitar case in tow. You shot Hange a brief smile before walking past them, but the sound of their voice interrupted you.

“Y/n Kraney, correct?”

You paused, turning to them and nodding. “Yes. Can I help you?”

Hange took note of your thick accent (one that you didn’t have when speaking on stage or while singing), but they smiled widely and held out their hand. “Hange Zoë. I’m a producer for Scout Records.”

Now they had your interest. You turned your entire body to face them and grabbed their hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Hange dropped their hand, tucking both of them into the pockets of their blazer. “You have talent.”

“Thank you.” You lowered your head briefly to show your appreciation.

“Have you thought about where you’re wanting to go with this? If you wanna make it a career or keep it as a hobby?”

You nodded. “I’ve been striving to make this my job. Though, I haven’t been very successful.” You force a laugh, though it’s obviously strained.

“Well of course. It’s hard to break through in an industry with so many people.” You nodded. “Have you thought about signing with a label?”

Your eyes slightly widen. You figured that’s where this was going, but you hadn't wanted to get your hopes up.

“Yes.”

Hange smiled. They pulled out a card from their blazer and handed it to you. You took it from their hand, absolutely gobsmacked that this opportunity was, quite literally, just being handed to you. It had to be too good to be true.

You were about to accept then and there. You had opened your mouth to say that yes, of course you’d sign with their company. But when you looked down at the card in your hand and scanned over both the address and phone numbers listed, you faltered.

“In . . . Germany?”

“Yes, dear. In Germany.”

“Oh . . .”

You didn’t know what to say. You had jinxed yourself because it really was too good to be true. Of course when the perfect opportunity arises, there has to be a weird, exigent circumstance that prevents you from reaching your dreams.

You had been so close.

“I don’t think I can do that,” you said. You met Hange’s gaze again.

“Why not? Is it living arrangements? I can assure you that the label will—”

“No. No, it’s- It’s not that.”

Hange’s brow raised in curiosity. “What is it then?”

“Just . . . Germany is so far. My parents are here in America and- God, not to mention school.”

Hange was taken aback. They blinked, speechless. School?

“How old are you?”

“I just turned seventeen,” you replied, rather bashfully.

Hange hummed, running their hand over the bottom half of their face in thought. Your youth definitely caused a problem.

“And you’re in eleventh grade? Or twelfth?”

“Eleventh.”

Hange exhaled a silent curse.

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling the new tension building as Hange thought.

“Alright.” Hange exhaled again, holding out one of their hands to motion to you. “The offer still stands and will so long as you take this seriously. If you want to move to Germany and join Scout Records, then we will take care of everything you need.”

You nodded, even knowing that you’d never accept the offer. You needed to stay in America. It’s where everything you’d ever known was.

Hange’s gaze softened. They reached forward and gently grabbed your shoulder. “You are very talented, Y/n. Even if you don’t join our company, I hope you find yourself doing great things.”

“Thank you.”

“If you change your mind, just call one of these numbers. We’ll get you situated.” Hange tapped the card in your hand before letting you go. You stood in the same spot as they stepped around you and left, the door closing loudly behind them.

You couldn’t believe you had to miss out on the chance of a lifetime just because of where you would have to go.

—

“We need to find a keyboardist.”

Armin’s voice cut through the silence of the apartment. It was early in the morning, and Jean was the only one in the shared living and dining space that would pay attention, since Mikasa was on her phone and listening to music through big headphones.

“Why? What’s wrong with playing the tracks?” Jean asked. He had been outlining something in his notebook, but he promptly set his pen on the pages when Armin spoke.

“It just- It doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t sound natural when we play with it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It sounds like a backtrack.” Explaining it almost made Armin feel stupid, because it was a backtrack so of course it would sound like one. “It just doesn’t blend well when we do live music. It needs to sound like live music when we do gigs. Plus, when we get bigger and start doing tours—”

“You think we’re going to get bigger?” Jean tone was condescending, and Armin flinched back like he had been burned.

Jean hated that he did that. He always showed the worst of him when he was upset or sad or . . . not happy. He had tried working on it before, but to no avail.

“Jean, our song is number five on the charts right now. People are starting to notice us.”

“We’re probably going to be a one hit wonder. Holiday got the attention, but what about The Bends? Or Boulevard of Broken Dreams? Or any of the samples we’ve put out on Instagram? No one pays attention to those.”

“Well we won’t know that if we don’t take this seriously,” Mikasa added. She had paused her music when Armin started talking. When Jean turned her way, her gaze was piercing. “Armin has a point, Jean. Playing the keyboard tracks when we do live music isn’t gonna work for long because it’s at a different volume than what you are playing. It doesn’t match the energy either.”

He let out an exasperated exhale, but reluctantly listened as Mikasa continued to ramble about coherence and continuity in their music.

“And where do you propose we find a keyboardist? We can’t just go out and magically find one.”

Jean found himself eating his words later that day as he marveled at the brunette tapping the keys of her well loved keyboard in a park. Mikasa had dragged him outside and had driven around aimlessly for what had seemed like hours in hopes of finding a street performer that could play the piano.

And dammit did she find a good one. The brunette pressed the keys like she was playing in a bar and sang with a similar twang to American country stars, but she was good. Her fingers slid across the keys like she was on a mission. Every note seemed to have meaning when she played it, and Jean was in awe.

“So today we learned that we can just go out and find a keyboardist,” Mikasa said cheekily. She turned to Jean, a smug grin painted across her face.

Jean scoffed. “You got lucky.”

“The point is, if you look, you’ll find something.” Mikasa turned her attention back to the brunette, watching as she smiled widely and thanked a child who offered her a half-empty bag of jerky and two euros.

“She doesn’t play what we do.” There he went again. Criticizing whatever he could. The girl probably could play some sort of rock sounding medley, but Jean was too stuck up on Marco to even want to find out if she could.

“Well, that’s why we ask if she can.” Mikasa spared Jean a sidelong glance as the girl began another song. “We won’t find out if we don’t try.”

That was basically the same thing she had said earlier. Mikasa was all about taking chances, Jean had noticed. She was always on the lookout for the next big thing and had become bolder since becoming Heart Attack’s publicist and social media manager.

Jean mumbled some sort of offhanded reply before going silent. He listened to the girl’s music, but it seemed like she had reached the end of her performance because less than ten minutes later, she was thanking everyone around her and disconnecting her keyboard from the two speakers.

Mikasa took the opportunity. Jean watched as she approached the woman when everyone else dispersed. He reluctantly stepped closer, not wanting to seem like a creep to others.

“Good afternoon, I’m Mikasa Ackerman.” Mikasa really had gotten bolder since becoming a publicist. The pre-Berlin Mikasa never would have walked up to a total stranger of her own volition and confidently introduced herself like she was somebody to know.

The brunette glanced up from where she worked to wind up a cord, smiling at the sight of Mikasa. “Sasha. Nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand to meet Mikasa’s.

“The pleasure is mine.” Mikasa dropped her hand from Sasha's, holding her hands behind her back and twirling her fingers. She nodded to the keyboard. “You’re a very good player.”

“Thanks. My dad taught me forever ago.” When Sasha had finished winding up the cord in her hands, she grabbed a clip from her pocket and secured it before moving on to the second cord.

“How nice. Say, have you heard of Heart Attack?”

Straight to the point. The old Mikasa would have beat around the bush and engaged in small talk longer.

“The band?” Mikasa nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard some of their music. Uh, Holiday, right?”

“That’s the one!” She was also . . . cheerier than normal, Jean noticed. “Well, I’m a publicist for their band. Basically I look around for places they could book gigs and events they could play at . . . All that fun stuff.” Sasha nodded, though it was clear that she wasn’t sure of the direction Mikasa was heading.

“And they’ve recently found themselves without a keyboard player.” Jean watched Sasha’s intrigue heighten. She had slightly tilted her head, her brows raising just the tiniest bit.

“Are they?”

“They certainly are. And, wouldn’t you know it, you fit the bill.”

Mikasa smiled. Sasha nodded, her gaze moving to where Jean stood behind the black-haired woman. He could tell she didn’t recognize him, which was proof that while people recognized their band name, they had no clue who the band actually was.

Sasha’s gaze flitted back to Mikasa, and she sat back on the battered stool at the keyboard. “So, what, are you holding auditions or something?”

“Nope. I’ve gone around to a few parks in search of street performers. The next big thing, you know?” Jean knew Mikasa was probably bullshitting this entire speil. He wasn’t even sure Mikasa knew talent when she saw it—she probably approached Sasha based on Jean’s reaction.

“So you’re a scout?”

“In a way, yes. But what I do is besides the point. The reason I’ve approached you is because I want to offer you the position.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. If she were standing, Jean thought she might have fallen over. “You want me to play with the band?”

Mikasa nodded. “I think you have what it takes to help them become the best artists in the world.”

Jean watched Sasha think. He watched the gears turning in her head as she considered the offer. After a moment, Mikasa reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notepad and pen.

“Here, I’ll give you my number. If you decide you want to join, go ahead and text me, okay?” Mikasa jotted down her phone before tearing the paper from the notepad and handing it to Sasha. Sasha gently grabbed it, bringing it closer to her as if it were a priceless artifact.

“Thank you. I’ll think about it and let you know.”

The two of them shook hands again before Mikasa turned. She motioned with her head toward the way her car was parked to Jean before the two of them fell into step together.

“You’re so stupid,” he said, though he didn’t mean it. He just wanted something to express his annoyance at Mikasa’s constant success with the band.

“No, I’m determined. This is your guys’ dream. Hell will freeze over before I let it fail.”

Jean hummed, but didn’t say anything in response.

The rest of the walk to Mikasa’s gray car was silent. It wasn’t until they had settled in, clicking their seatbelts into place and soft indie music playing through the car speakers, that Jean spoke.

“Do you think she’ll accept?”

Mikasa shrugged. She turned to look in the rear view mirrors before she started reversing. “Hopefully. I’ll be—”

Mikasa’s sentence was cut off when her phone started ringing. She had to double take at the number displayed on the console, but when she saw the unknown number, she smiled.

She pressed the green button, clearing her throat before saying, “This is Mikasa.”

“Hi. Sasha again. Uhm . . . When did you want me to meet everyone?”

Mikasa smiled, glancing at Jean. He rolled his eyes and looked out the window.

Heart Attack had a new keyboardist.

—

SASHA: Of course I accepted. I was living in my car when I met Mikasa and Jean in that park. It was not a good look. Honestly, I think Mikasa probably saved my life when she asked if I wanted to join their band.

I was excited, as one typically is when they join a band. Mikasa gave me a time and address to meet everyone that Saturday. It was the studio, and I met Mikasa in the lobby. She led me up to the room they were practicing in and introduced me. But when I walked in there was this . . . tension.

This was not what Sasha had imagined.

Well, maybe it was. There were three people in the control room talking amongst themselves, their voices unheard on the other side of the glass. The other four focused on their own instruments. Sasha didn’t know anyone’s name, but she would learn them as they spoke to each other.

Their actions were what Sasha would expect in a studio. She didn’t expect the silence. Or the looming feeling of doom lingering in the room.

“Sorry if they’re a little weird,” Mikasa whispered to her as she led Sasha to the keyboard. “Jean just announced he’s leaving the band.”

Sasha’s eyes widened, but she didn’t comment. She didn’t know which one Jean was, and even if she did it definitely wasn’t her place to offer her opinion.

She did, however, offer a soft hum. She felt like it would have come off as cold if she didn’t say something.

Mikasa handed her a green folder as Sasha sat herself in the stool. Mikasa briefly explained what songs they were running through today before she left the room altogether and joined the other people on the opposite side of the glass.

Sasha opened the folder, thumbing through the music until she found what she needed. She places the loose pages against the stand, something her personal keyboard didn’t have, before looking down at the keys.

It was a sleek instrument. Glossy black and probably brand new. Sasha adjusted the knobs to the setting she knew she liked before connecting a cord to the speaker.

“Alright, is everyone ready for the first run through?”

The voice over the intercom was loud. When Sasha looked up, she saw a blond man hovering over a microphone in the control room.

It was silent for a moment. When no one had any objections, the brunet with longer hair spoke up.

“We’re good. Ready when you are.”

“Sasha? You okay to continue?”

Sasha faltered for a moment as all eyes turned to her. She felt obligated to nod and say yes, especially with everyone’s gaze rested on her.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Thank god she could sight read.

“Alright. When I hold my hand up get ready. I’ll count down from five. Once my hand goes down, Connie starts the beat.”

Connie held up two thumbs, drumsticks clenched in his hands, before lowering his hands and getting ready to hit his drums.

The blond in the booth held his hand up. Sasha watched as he lowered his fingers one at a time before pointing out.

Connie’s response was immediate. Sasha counted the beats in her head and internalized it, waiting for her cue.

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon in the studio. When Erwin — the blond man that had been directing them from the sound booth — called for them to start shutting down the session, Sasha put her music back in the green folder and turned off the electronic keyboard.

She had learned everyone’s names and the loose dynamic they had with each other. On her way out, she waved to them all before closing the door behind her.

Once she got settled in her car, she exhaled a breath. A wide smile stretched across her face as the heater began working.

She drove to the parking lot of a gas station, triple checking to ensure her car was locked before pulling the lever that laid her seat back.

She stared at the roof of her car, wondering what this new opportunity would bring.

It had been a rough session, yes. No one had their parts perfect and some of the notes were discordant and there was only one run through where everyone came in when they were supposed to. But despite that, Sasha fell asleep with a smile.

That had been the most fun she’d ever had.

—

You were in a police station. You were in a police station and you were high.

Granted, your mind was clearer than it had been, but you were still high.

It was a first. One last hoorah! for the end of your junior year of sorts. Of course, it hadn’t really ended yet, but spring finals were less than two weeks away. You counted that as the end.

You, Jazzy and Ella had gone out. You’d planned to meet Dallas and a friend of his at the Chili’s just a few blocks from your apartment. After dinner, the five of you carpooled in Dallas’s car.

You really didn’t know how you ended up at the police station. You just remember Dallas’s friend, Rylan, pulling out a bag of weed.

Next thing you knew you were sitting in the back of a police car, the seats hard beneath you, and on the way to the station.

You were waiting for your dad. That’s what the officer had told you, anyway. You waited with both Ella and Jazzy, Ella absolutely knocked out and snoring against Jazzy’s shoulder. You leaned against her other shoulder. Dallas and Rylan had been taken someplace else.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” you exhaled.

“We’ll go out together,” Jazzy responded.

“Who thought this would be a good idea?”

Jazzy shrugged, her shoulders lifting both yours and Ella’s head up. Ella snorts, but quickly falls into steady breathing.

Silence enveloped the two of you. There was no sound except for the slowly ticking clock, and even then each tick was quieter than you thought was normal.

You grabbed onto Jazzy’s hand and squeezed. She returned the squeeze, and it was just a few more moments before you heard voices and the door opened.

You lifted your head, meeting your father’s gaze. He was tired, his hair disheveled like he had woken up mere minutes earlier. Despite that, he was fully dressed in jeans and an old Blink-182 concert shirt.

He let out a breath at the sight of you and your two friends. You could tell it was from disappointment. That thought was enough to make you squeeze Jazzy’s hand harder and wish you could fall through the wall behind you.

Your dad beckoned you forward with his hand. You stood up and strode over to him. His arm wrapped around you once you were in his reach and he turned to walk out, but paused and turned back.

“Do you girls need a ride?” he asked Jazzy.

She shook her head. “No, we’re okay, John. My grandma’s coming to get us.”

Your dad nodded. You have a weak wave to Jazzy before leaving.

You were told to wait in the car while your dad signed paperwork. You did as he said, not wanting to argue when he was so obviously done with you for the night.

You got into the front seat of his truck, turning on the heater and listening to the songs playing on the radio.

It was an oldies station. “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” by Paul Anka was playing, and you found yourself softly humming along to the song.

You quieted when your dad got in the car. He turned off the radio and started driving, which really only made the whole situation more serious since you were basically being forced to think about your actions.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine.” Your dad stopped at the red light, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel impatiently.

“No it’s not.”

“It’s not, but what can you do?”

Another moment of silence passed. The air was thick— so thick you felt like you were suffocating on it. The light turned green

John sighed, running a hand through his messy hair as he started driving again. “What is going on with you, Y/n?”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed.

“You’re not acting the way you’ve been before. Your grades have gone down and now I have to pick you up from the police station? What the hell happened at Alice’s this summer?”

You just shrug. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. You’d ghosted Damian, yes. Maybe you’d even grieved over it for a bit, but nothing had happened to make you . . . this.

John sighed again, glancing into the side mirrors as he switched lanes.

“You’re just like your mom.”

He’d mumbled it, so obviously you weren’t supposed to hear it. You weren’t even sure he meant to say it out loud, but the words felt like a knife to your heart.

To be like Alice was the last thing you’d ever wanted. You’d deliberately made so many choices so you didn’t turn out like her just to end up being compared to her anyway.

Maybe you were still a little sensitive from the weed, but tears sprung to your eyes at the statement. You sniffed before turning your head to look out the window. You wiped your eyes before the tears could fall.

“You have to get better, Y/n. I’m not going to support you if you can’t even support yourself.”

You take a moment to respond. Of course you want to agree. You want to say that you will get better, even if it was just so you didn’t disappoint him again.

But was that realistic? You knew that once a hole was dug it was hard to get out of. It was more difficult to build yourself up than it was to knock yourself down, and you had kicked yourself to the curb.

Your response left your mouth without much thought.

“Okay.”

—

It was almost more miserable in Tennessee than it was in New York. The only difference was the scenery.

You dad refused to let you go to Alice’s house the summer that followed your junior year. Naturally, you didn’t listen and bought a plane ticket anyway. Ella had driven you to the airport and dropped you off.

You hadn’t planned on going back. You didn’t even want to bother trying to get yourself out of the hole you’d dug, so what was the point of going back to school? You’d stay with your mom until you could buy your own place.

You’d picked up a job at a local diner, working every shift you could and shoving your tips into an emptied baby puffs container that sat on your desk, right below your bulletin board. The board was empty, save for one thing, and that was the card Hange had given you almost a year ago.

You considered the offer every day. You were too ashamed to ever show your face at your dad’s apartment again, and Alice was constantly jumping the line between being suicidal and a semi-productive member of society. Did you really have as much in America as you did last year? Would it be more worth it to go to Germany?

Every day you reconsidered the offer, and every day you gave yourself no answer and instead went to bed. You found yourself longing for that even more day after day.

It took copious amounts of courage for you to finally call one of the numbers listed on the battered card. It took you a moment to figure out how to do it, but a Google search later had you holding your phone up to your ear and waiting for someone to pick up.

“This is Hange Zoë.”

They’d said it in German. It took you just a moment to translate what they said in your head, and when you did you exhaled in relief. It was still Hange’s number.

You internally thanked your late grandmother for teaching you German when you were little. You had no real reason to use it, but it was coming in handy now.

“Hi. Uhm, I’m not sure if you remember me, but this is Y/n.”

Hange was silent for a moment. They switched to English when they said, “Remind me where I’d know you from.”

You took a deep breath. This was more nerve-wracking than you’d anticipated.

“You came to Brooklyn around this time last year. I was performing at a blue’s bar and you came up to me after.”

You hoped to god they remembered who you were. If they didn’t, then any hope you had of going somewhere would be blown out.

“Oh! Yes, Y/n Kraney.”

“It’s actually L/n now,” you softly corrected. You’d stopped going by Kraney after your dad compared you to Alice.

“Y/n L/n. Sounds like the next star.” You smiled. You couldn’t tell if they were being genuine or just saying that to butter you up, but it made you feel good nonetheless. “Now, I assume you’re calling because you’ve reconsidered my offer, is that correct?”

“Yes,” you said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Wonderful!” You heard shuffling coming from their line. Your brows furrowed in confusion from the sound, but you didn’t comment on it. “Is it right to assume you’re going to be moving here?”

“Yes.”

“What sorts of arrangements will you need? We can get you almost anything.”

You stuttered, wiping your sweaty palm against your pants. “A ticket there. And a place to stay. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, just . . . something.”

Hange went silent for a moment. You assumed they were writing something down. “Alright. We can get that done for you. Say, I’ve been wanting to show my coworkers your talent since I watched you in New York. Ya think that if I gave you a date and location you’d be able to come to an open house?”

“Like, where I’d sing?”

“Yeah. Lots of execs and producers go things like this to scout out the next big thing. I want to show Erwin we have that.”

“Okay . . . Yeah. Sure. Just let me know where and when.”

Hange agreed. They told you about an open night that they would be present at a bar called Quasimodo. You agreed to meet them there, and continued to make more plans about how you would get there.

Another thing you requested was a translator. Or someone that could teach you more German. Hange immediately gave you the number of a friend before promptly hanging up.

You exhaled when they did, wondering if you’d regret this decision later down the line.

—

Y/N: I think going to Germany at that time was probably the best decision I could have made. Who can say if I would even be here if I hadn’t decided to call Hange that day.

I boarded a plane nearly a week later. I met with Hange and they showed me to the apartment that had been rented for me, and I took a few German classes. I met up with Hange and Erwin at Quasimodo a few days later, and Erwin agreed to keep me signed with them.

CONNIE: I think someone told me once that Y/n was the one to go on after us at Quasimodo. I think it might have been Hange, actually. But I remember thinking how crazy it was that our paths were so close to crossing before we officially came together.

EREN: After the Quasimodo gig it was maybe . . . two years before Y/n came in for “The River.” I think. Without her, Heart Attack would have been a one hit wonder.

Y/N: Yeah, it was about two years before Hange proposed a collaboration. Those two years weren’t very eventful for me. Hange and I produced more professional sounding versions of all the songs I had made, and I was steadily growing.

JEAN: Erwin came into the studio with us one day. He told us that the label wanted to cut ties with the band.

ARMIN: We weren’t making very good music. Everything we made was doing horribly. Our songs actually flopped so bad that Erwin pulled a couple strings to have those songs taken off the public record, actually.

SASHA: That was really scary for me. Even if we weren’t doing well, being with Heart Attack was already giving me a better life. I had managed to move out of my car into a small studio apartment, and I was terrified I would lose that.

EREN: Erwin said he was this close to giving us up. I was convinced that session would be our last in studio, but then he brought up Y/n.

Y/N: I remember going out for coffee with my friend, Annie, when Hange called me. They proposed the idea of a collab with a band I had never heard of.

MIKASA: Adding Y/n into the mix was . . . an interesting choice. Not to say it was a bad one, but . . .

ARMIN: The girl Erwin proposed we make a song with had a very different sound than the one we were reaching for. We’d heard one of her songs on the radio before, and yeah, it was good, but it’s wasn’t really what we did.

CONNIE: After Erwin brought it up to us, we went back to the apartment and listened to some of her music. Jean was definitely not a fan.

JEAN: She was a fucking flower. All she did was write songs about her exes and how much she missed them or songs about how she wanted to find love.

CONNIE: He and Eren got into a fight about it. They were yelling to each other about whether or not to do the collab without consulting the rest of us.

ARMIN: Eren snapped and said, “Well you’re leaving the band anyway, so what does it matter?”

EREN: He threw a fucking plate at me.

JEAN: Did he mention the knife he pointed at me?

EREN: I was cooking and made a general motion. It was not that dramatic.

MIKASA: It was a really bad argument. Jean and Eren have always had this strained relationship. The best analogy I can think of is like toxic exes. They were always fighting, but when they were able to lift each other up they succeeded together. A lot of the success we had came from them and Y/n as a trio. When they weren’t at each other’s throats, of course.

ARMIN: Jean had obviously brought up leaving the band before, but I think he had been putting it off because he didn’t want to separate himself from us. After that night, though, he was dead set on leaving as soon as possible.

What changed his mind?

ARMIN: Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I have my suspicions, but . . . I’ll let you ask and find out from him.

JEAN: I told Eren I would do one more song, and that song would be the one with Y/n. And when it wasn’t a hit, I would laugh in his face and tell him I told him so.

Y/N: I told Hange that I would give the band a try, but if I didn’t like what they were doing then I was calling it quits.

So you liked it more than you had anticipated?

Y/N: [smiling] Yeah. I guess you could say that.

the exposition is almost over I swear they all officially meet in the next chapter

i did not mean for this chapter to take me so long either i’m so sorry 😭

TAGLIST: @arlerts-angel @conniesrockstargf @fvckingeetar @pluckyduxck @kkkingsman @beaniebaby12 @catkidsposts if you'd like to join the taglist please comment or DM to let me know!

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nexility-sims · 8 months ago

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟖 (𝟐/𝟑) ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | EARLY OCTOBER 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

→ 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 The performance lineup was long, mixing dilettante regulars with real, true artists. Renzo hadn’t told her in advance what he planned to do; she knew he would be accompanying Fluke at some point, but his turns at the front were rare and unpredictable. Tonight, he used his voice, one that Leonor found impressive if not astonishing, to serenade the room. That was the illusion, anyway. He held her gaze the entire time, which was enough to convey intent. The songs announced were all covers—music from her aunt’s milieu, or quite possibly her discography. While Leonor didn’t recognize the song and rapidly became unable to hear the lyrics as words with a meaning, the unmistakable mood gripped her. It wasn’t a caress so much as a stroke, a fondle, a pinch. It made her skin crawl in the best way.

❧ "venus in furs" won the poll but "time of the season" ended up fitting better (and also the clapping in this performance was compelling dsfsjg) ... anyway, i am SO pleased with this post specifically

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

The performance lineup was long, mixing dilettante regulars with real, true artists. Renzo hadn’t told her in advance what he planned to do; she knew he would be accompanying Fluke at some point, but his turns at the front were rare and unpredictable. Tonight, he used his voice, one that Leonor found impressive if not astonishing, to serenade the room. That was the illusion, anyway. He held her gaze the entire time, which was enough to convey intent. The songs announced were all covers—music from her aunt’s milieu, or quite possibly her discography. While Leonor didn’t recognize the song and rapidly became unable to hear the lyrics as words with a meaning, the unmistakable mood gripped her. It wasn’t a caress so much as a stroke, a fondle, a pinch. It made her skin crawl in the best way.

The Den possessed an unexpected number of quiet backrooms beyond the bustle of its main space. People who were just passing through experienced the stage, the bar, the shadowy corners that ringed them both. Friends got to see the enviable wine cellar and the room where the gambling happened; although less exciting, they might also see the liquor storage or the disorganized mess that barely warranted the title of “office.” Leonor had probably jiggled most of the doorknobs before she went onto the roof. Of course, Renzo’s favorite backroom wasn’t in the basement with the others. It was the small section cordoned off from the main space, drenched in red lighting, with a sectional on which he could sprawl. It was where Leonor had first met him, and it was where they tended to retreat as any given night progressed. Tonight had been no exception. It was a place to fully crawl out of her skin, and the knotted satin of her costume, and the nervous confines of her mind.

With delusional buoyancy setting it, an urgent question had bubbled up unbidden. It force itself out like a hiccup. Renzo caught it, if with surprise, rolling along with her as she wondered aloud. ‘Do you love me?’ A terrible question, this one. Had she not already felt so much, had she not been overflowing with shapeless and blooming euphoria, she would have felt ashamed. He didn’t recoil. Against her fingers, he answered, ‘I love ... the idea of you.’ She didn’t recoil from the honesty either. It wasn’t a wave; it was a rainfall that soaked, heavy, gentle, to the bone. She followed up with the same earnestness, ‘Do I love you?’ He swirled his tongue around her thumb as he considered it. Then, ‘You love who you think I am.’ Did she? ‘Really?’ ‘Really.’ It was settled. She did. Otherwise, it had to be a fleeting concern, one sinking beneath the surface again, that couldn’t really matter.

TRANSCRIPT:

[Music, overlapping conversation, laughter]

RENZO | Come on, don’t be shy. Look, all of this—live plants, the murals, fucking real rabbits to play with—all courtesy of Nora. She’s been busy employing artisans and patronizing florists and shit. Did you know she came up with the theme, too? Can’t forget that. Because she loves this place. She loves all of us. My moon goddess.

[Music, conversation, laughter continues]

[Crowd cheering]

[Music, crowd singing along]

[Discordant, playful strumming]

[Music begins, Renzo singing]

[Rhythmic clapping]

No, no, too much! No? Yes! Fuck. It’s fine. Yeah? Too late now. Oh, baby—

[Laughter, echoing]

[Muffled music, Leonor sighs]

Do you love me? I love ... the idea of you. Do I love you? You love who you think I am. Really? Really.

Is that real? The rabbit? The fur? It’s so ... That’s a lot. Poor rabbits, huh? Yes, but ... It’s soft! Oh, it’s soft. You have to leave the, um, the—[laughs] The chaps? Yes! It’s so important. I love them. If you want. Please! I do.

[Urinating, sink running, door opening and closing]

?1 | —such a cute theme, though. Little bunnies? I look so good. ?2 | Yeah, but can you believe what she did? No one else is yellow. ?1 | Not surprised. Princess has to be the center of attention, duh.

?2 | But, I would be so fucking bored if I were him. ?1 | I only talked to her once, and I’m still bored. [Snickers] ?2 | Blah, blah, my mom is dead, blah, blah, blah, I do government stuff. Where’s the camera, look at me, I’m a Reyes, blah, blah, blah. ?1 | [Laughs] So dumb! That’s it, though.

?1 | Maybe she’s just hot, in a cute way? She’s new. Doesn’t know how to do anything fun. A "yes" girl. Ooh. We’ve been there. ?2 | Yeah, I don’t get it, but, oh, well—Okay! [Smacks lips] Let’s go! [Footsteps, door opens and closes]

[Door closes]

#cw drugs #ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e04

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1-800-crscnt · 4 months ago

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-music taste hcs for some clones, more under the cut-

Fox: likes slow songs with meaning you really have to dig for + minimal instrumental + soft but clear vocals & the type of rock music you'd find in sonic amvs from the early 2010s. Occasionally likes a very upbeat songs of most genres, usually as a distraction or quick motivator. HATES short songs (≤ 2 minutes long) and complains about it a lot to Thorn and Doom.

Thorn: likes metal, rock, rap, & punk, but listens to a lot of fast-paced electronic music too. Prefers songs that sound grim, screamy, or just sound like if the vocalists were out to get him. Doesn't like super happy pop music that much, but will endure it and occasionally dance if one of his brothers really likes it enough to dance first.

Stone: loves relaxing non-vocal music, but will sometimes listen to songs with it if the vocals are soft/flat and relatable. Other from that, isn't too picky about what he listens to. Prefers a lot of what I call "background / daydream" music, and is the number one hour-looped game ost fan. likes to hum along. can't stand fast-paced songs.

Thire: doesn't listen to music. it weirds everyone out besides Stone, who finds it "predictable". if he had to choose, it would be between breakcore or R&B. He's mostly using his experience and knowledge from parties he's been to and people he's watched/interacted with to choose what songs he "likes" so people stop bothering about him not listening to music.

Hound: loves EVERYTHING literally EVERYTHING. always wants to discover more music, but prefers more lullaby-like songs because they help him focus and sleep. Jazz and hip-hop are also high ranking on his mental list because he likes dancing and singing along to them, but he doesn't get chances to listen to either of those very often.

Cody: generally likes any song about the high and/or lows of romance with very emotional & strong vocals because he likes learning about different views on love, but likes a bit of psychedelic rock. Doesn't actually listen to music that much, and doesn't go out of his way to do so, might actually even pass up a completely harmless chance if offered.

Rex: likes a LOT of rock subgenres but hates dubstep completely. prefers a deep bass somewhere in the music he does listen to, and music criticizing messed up parts of society. loves shoegaze and the grungy rock you'd hear in games from the early 2000s. is very quiet about this, so most people assume he's just too serious to like music, and he doesn't correct this.

Wolffe: listens to metal and goth music, doesn't have a preference for any specific subgenre. honestly doesn't listen to music that much and tends to pass up chances just like Cody does, but mostly because he thinks it's too distracting. doesn't hate any sort of music, but says he hates random ones to mess with other people.

Doom: into most music actually, but goes out of his way to avoid listening to it in front of people, so all this music discovery is accidental on his part. gets strangely embarrassed about people knowing anything about him, and denies even caring about music. has a heavy preference for anything jazz and disco, but doesn't like metal or hip-hop that much. Avoids depressing songs when he can.

Bacara: is like Thire and doesn't listen to music. doesn't care about it, probably won't ever, and has no opinion about music at all. May find lyrics strange, and (rarely) question people for listening to "something that stupid", but genuinely couldn't care less as long as it doesn't distract anybody.

#radio.static #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thorn #commander stone #commander thire #sergeant hound #commander cody #captain rex #commander wolffe #commander doom #commander bacara #star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #sw #tcw #sw tcw #clone wars headcanons

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sketching-pasketti · 1 year ago

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Oh hey look it's the longest fucking post I'll ever make

Proxy Headcannons

——————————————————————————

General Headcannons:

All of them hate Slender but literally can't do anything about it cause he controls them

Everyone hates Tim but love Brian

Toby is a gremlin

Individual Headcannons (Masky/Tim):

"Oh I'm a whore for red velvet cake" "Yeah, Tim you say that everytime we go get cake"

Smells like cologne and cigarettes

Tired 24/7

Probably hates Slender the most out of all of them

Loves Five Guys a lot for some reason

"Uh, half of y'all have criminal records and the other half are supernatural creatures, no shit Slender won't let y'all work"

Says "y'all" a lot even though he's not southern (me too tho)

Cannot stand county music

A metalhead

Coffee addict

Calls people nicknames sometimes (example: Kate;Katie, Lulu;Lu, Lazari:Lazii, Kate:Katester)

"Ow? My ass?? What the hell, Katie????"

Speaks 4 languages

Can't stand Jeff

"You smell like cigarettes and it's really repulsive" "Okay?? You smell like weed, shut up"

Kicks ass at Mario Kart Wii

Also kicks ass at Wii Sports

Individual Headcannons (Hoodie/Brian):

"I pay for all of you guys' food so I don't think you get to say anything"

Is always either in his room or out at the store

Disappears for literally months and then comes back like nothing happened

Low-key has a (b)romance with Tim

Babysits Sally

A swiftie

Really likes Hits Different

Assigns people random emojis to their names

Examples are Tim(🚬), Toby(👹), Kate(🥺), Jeff(🔪)

Plays visual novels in secret

Not really though, cause Slender knows

Really good friends with Jane and her wife

Doesn't like how itchy his mask is

Wants to run Offender over with a car

Individual Headcannons (Toby):

Screams Taylor Swift lyrics at people who piss him off (*cough cough* Tim *cough cough* ex; "LET'S FAST FORWARD TO 300 TAKEOUT COFFEES LATER" "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU RODGERS??")

Also blasts music at ungodly hours

Heavily annoyed that Tim is the only one that Slender trusts to help with his tic attacks

Heard Jeff snort crack once and now that noise is a tic of his

Names his hatchets

"oh no"s randomly

Threw an egg at Slender once

Screams the lyrics to the songs he listens to

Has a collection of shiny things he's stolen from his victims

Honks (goose or car, you decide)

5'8"

Ate glue on multiple occasions

Didn't even notice it was glue actually until Brian told him

Tastes Jane's candles (she gets very upset at this)

Bites people

Forgets he chewed the side of his mouth off and gets shocked when he looks in the mirror

Rare whisper boy

His grandparents taught him German and now he has an accent and everything

Drew on all of his Converse

Perches on the stair railing

Sleeps in the starfish position

Individual Headcannons (Kate):

Also draws on her Converse

Draws everyone and everything

Painted most of the pictures Slender has in his office

Helps Toby collect shiny things

Hunches over like the hunchback of Notre Dame whenever she's doing something

Her back hurts constantly

Mapped the house so she wouldn't get lost

Whisper girl

Pierced her nose by herself (and made a huge fucking mess)

Let's Sally do her makeup

Slaps Tim's ass everytime he walks past her

Eats crayons on purpose

Vomits each time though

Has a large vinyl collection

And a Funko pop collection

Uses "🥺" unironically

Can ice skate

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta hcs #hcs #headcanons #headcanon #ticci toby #tim wright #kate the chaser #brian thomas #hoodie #masky #creepypasta hoodie #creepypasta masky #slender proxy #proxy #proxy headcannons

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wave2tyun · 11 months ago

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cool hot sweet love (beomgyu's ending)

word count: about 1k

a/n: don't read this if you haven't read cool hot sweet love first :0

you woke up at noon with a pounding headache, barely gathering the strength to roll out of bed. it seemed like you didn’t know your alcohol limit that well after all. yeji, however, took notice of how wasted you looked once you got back home, and left some water and hangover medicine on your nightstand, which you gladly took.

you did your usual morning routine to make yourself look presentable again, then started cleaning up the big mess you created in your room while being in a rush yesterday. you gathered the clothes on the floor, spotting a white button-up shirt thrown on your desk chair. confused, you picked it up, memories from last night coming back in an instant, making your cheeks burn again. ‘shit. i should probably return this to beomgyu’. you folded the shirt, feeling something strange in its pocket. putting your hand inside, you discovered a small piece of paper with text on it:

‘meet me at sunset? -beomgyu :)’

you frowned, feeling both excited and nervous about facing him again. still, you wanted to know what this was about, and went to search him at the bar at the appointed time.

the beach was deserted, no tourists around and no workers either. your shoulders slumped; you stopped in your tracks, worrying whether that note was really meant for you, or for today. you took a step back, about to go back, when suddenly the instrumental of a song started softly playing through the speakers around you. so there was someone here after all. you leaned forward, eyes spotting a familiar mop of red hair behind the counter at the bar. unconsciously, your feet led you towards it. you were anxiously playing with your fingers, not knowing what to expect.

“you’re here.” beomgyu smiled once he saw you “i was afraid you wouldn’t notice my note” he tilted his head down, scratching his neck nervously. the fairy lights scattered around the beach started to light up.

“what’s all this about?” you asked, in awe beomgyu’s preparations.

“just come with me.” beomgyu answered shortly. his fingers wrapped around your wrist, guiding you towards a picnic blanket, carefully placed on the shore. there was a plate full of the vanilla cupcakes you adored, with 2 glasses of the famous cherry daiquiri on the side.

“i noticed you liked these, so i wanted to make you more” beomgyu said, pointing at the cupcakes “don’t worry, soobin taught me how to make them.” he added bashfully.

you sat down next to him, still a bit unsure about the context behind this. beomgyu handed you the sweet treats which you both ate in silence. it was a comfortable silence though, there was something about beomgyu that always made you feel at ease around him.

beomgyu played with your fingers, occasionally placing small bits of the fine white sand on your arm, then brushing it off. “could you close your eyes for a bit? there’s this song i really want to show you.”

you nodded, closing your eyes to take in the music as beomgyu pressed play.

you nervously bit your lips ‘was that soren-?’

And if there was a place that I had to choose

Or a memory that fades that I cannot lose

If there was a place that I could call home

Before I die, you oughta know

It’d be in your arms tonight

you felt beomgyu’s gaze on you, heart fluttering as you continued to pay attention to the lyrics.

The green in your eyes

Are like the leaves in the summer

And it changes with the weather

The pink in your cheeks

When you slightly lose your temper

Makes me love you even more

the chorus played once more, the instrumental at the end of the song slowly fading away into the night. you opened your eyes, making eye contact with the boy that has been relentlessly tugging at your heart all summer.

“no one’s got me feeling quite like you” beomgyu spoke softly, wanting his words to be heard by you, and only you “you don’t have to give me an answer right now, maybe it was the push of the alcohol, but i just wanted to get these words out before my heart got captured by my own worries again-“ you cut him off, grabbing his face and giving him a kiss on the lips “is this enough to relieve your worries?“ you slightly pulled away, whispering against his lips “more than enough” he answered back in a daze, eyes full of sweet desire looking into yours. you could feel his hot breath on your skin, his lips were open, softly grazing yours. he grabbed the back of your neck, bringing you closer for another kiss. he kissed you slow and tenderly, taking his time to feel you, to show you all of his emotions, his adoration towards you. you both smiled into the kiss, stopping just for a second to breathe before he gently caressed your lips again, too impatient to feel them once more. his tongue grazed your bottom lip, the taste heady and familiar.

cherry daiquiri.

you couldn’t help but let out a gasp when he gently bit it, nibbling on it. “gyu-“ you wrapped your hands in the strands of hair sitting at the base of his neck. beomgyu left a trail of kissed on your jaw “you’re so pretty, did you know that?” he whispered as he moved to make his way down your neck to leave more kisses. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hair tickled you as he was busy nipping on your skin,“wait-“ you took his face in your hands and lifted his head up to make him look at you “i want to kiss you too” beomgyu’s cheeks burned at the mere thought of your touch on his body. he put his hand over yours, speaking in a hushed tone “i want to be the one to take care of you tonight.”

taglist: @huekalover3000 @maybabe00 @sunoooism

#wave2tyun #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #txt headcanons #txt beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu headcanons

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autumnwhistles · 7 days ago

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Lyric Breakdown in my Last Life (mainly Martyn-centric) song, "Corners of the World"

youtube

'Abridged' version here, and longer analysis (ft. a lot of Martyn character analysis... and also the full lyrics I'm actually talking about) under the cut.

"I'll lie, double cross to best them all" is yet again a reference to a line from Martyn's Last Life teaser poem ("Surpass them all/Take friends for foes"), which was from the perspective of the Watchers (and was previously referenced by them in the first song, Middle of Nowhere). Martyn using this phrasing hints that the Watchers already hold some influence over him, hence the outline of the lyrics flashing purple in the video!

"Walls, corners, edges" is taken from Martyn's speech after Ren's beheading (as is the title of this song, for the same reason):

"You took me in when I was a lowly traveler, going across the land, searching the four corners of this world. I learned there was nothing in this world for me – nothing but walls, corners, edges. And you know what, you showed me life. As much as I’ve taken it from you, you gave it back to me in buckets’ fulls."

The point here is that, after the events of 3rd Life, Martyn's reverted back to that previous worldview. That life he was shown clearly meant something to him, but ultimately, its price was far too high. So now, he's deliberately separating himself from a mindset that would allow him to care too much about others and feel that same pain: the world is walls and edges; the people in it are figures to use for his own benefit, not to care about; the world does not hold those buckets' fulls of life. As we see with his reactions to the Southlands' fall, he doesn't really end up being successful in this (and it's a major topic of exploration throughout the musical) – but it doesn't mean he doesn't want or try to be.

Of course, the wordplay this verse ("You'll be cornered in the corners, and on edge in many more/And walls you'll build and walls you'll raise(/raze), and walls will fall in war") is to establish Martyn's strengths in that area. Getting the voice right is an important part of musical characterisation too!

"Keep it a void you're fighting for" is either dramatic irony or foreshadowing depending on how much you know of his lore. Martyn's only referring to not fighting for anyone else's sake here, but between the seasons the players do spend their time falling through the void (while unconscious) – regardless of whether they win or lose. By fighting to win, you are just fighting for that same void... which of course, Martyn doesn't know (because surely winning means something). If he knew nothing changes after you win, the incentive to win would be much weaker, and I'd argue we do see that in c!Martyn post-Limited Life. But despite his cynicism and distrust, he's still naïve to this particular cruelty of the world... :) i mean lore-wise if you win a fragment of your soul does get protected but 1) no bearing on last life and so on this musical whatsoever, and 2) how is c!martyn supposed to know that even after his win

"Careful with the name you pick/Don't want it to get flamed" is (as the editing hopefully makes clear) a pun – 'you don't want your name to be made fun of', and 'your tree fort is flammable'. This is again meant to establish Martyn's quick wit as well as progressing the song/storyline, and as well as showing us him messing with people, which he very much likes to do! (I am also aware Cleo was the one who informed Lizzie, but I had to streamline various things for the sake of the medium – this is both a Martyn character establishment song and an intro to the world and various figures in it, so it's easier if Martyn is the one who introduces that to those figures (and for us to get more information about Martyn based on how he interacts with them). And Lizzie's reaction to that information was something I wanted to keep in)

Of course Skizz and Etho were in the Red Army too, Martyn's just being cheeky/faking indignation here (if there'd been space, I'd have given Skizz a line of protest, but from a musical standpoint I preferred the instant transition into Scar's section). But guys.... BEST/Dogwarts parallels... guys.....

"(...)I'll lead, not play a pawn"/"(...)little pawn" (sung simultaneously, the first by Martyn and the second by the Watchers) is a callback to the first song, Middle of Nowhere, in which there's a section of randomised lives being given out. The first line there is "Four for the traitor, four for the pawn", and this confirms/establishes 'the pawn' as referring to Martyn (referencing what he's treated as by the Watchers). Note that here Martyn's desire 'to lead' refers to being in control of his actions and not deferring to anyone, not specifically to leading an alliance. Of course, Martyn's part is full of dramatic irony on his behalf :)

Those are the 'flashier' lines and word choices I especially wanted to highlight. Now, for the version with way more character analysis!

As mentioned, Corners of the World is Martyn's – our main character's – introductory song. Regardless of whether it counts as an 'I Want' song or not (it's a bit nebulous, because yes, he does express things he wants – to win, to be in contol of his own actions and not at others' whims. But for me, the more important part of the song is what he doesn't want to do, what things he's distancing himself from that he's presumably done before, and the questions and implications that arise from that. And the core of that is explored slightly later on), it's going to be our first impression of him as a character. The traits and worldview established here will be viewed as important, and will form the basis of his arc throughout the musical.

Because of that, the two verses focus on establishing that inital worldview (as well as establishing what he's aiming for):

MARTYN (Verse 1) Right, here I go again — new world, another start. New chance to see who’ll reach the end, and who will fall apart Well, won’t be me – this time I’ll be the very last to fall No care for cost, I’ll lie, double cross to best them all

So we know he wants to survive and win the game (especially after not doing so last time), we know he's willing to play dirty to achieve that and definitely should not be trusted. We know he's under no impression that this is anything other than a death game (or death match, to quote his Limited Life self) – he doesn't hide from the knowledge that people will fall apart, that only one person will be left standing. Importantly, this means he's playing the game exactly as intended, with no intentions of defying it or even deviating slightly* from what the first song has expressed to be the goal (to 'best'/'surpass' everyone else). Even as he expresses the wish to play for himself, he's already committed himself to following others' unseen rules.

Walls, corners, edges, I’ve been this way before. You’ll be cornered in the corners, and on edge in many more; And walls you’ll build and walls you’ll raise(/raze) and walls will fall in war, Kinship destroyed, so keep it a void you’re fighting for.

And here we get an exploration of Martyn's mindset in more detail. I've touched on this already, but a major point of exploration throughout the musical is Martyn's relashionship to emotional attachment – he's coming right off the bat of Ren's death in 3rd Life, which "broke" him and made him play more selfishly since (both statements taken from the LimLife lore stream), and he is someone who tends keep his distance and who'll prioritise himself over allies whenever things get dicey. But the "life" that closeness gave him back in 3rd Life was still clearly important to that version of him, and he does inadvertently (and unwillingly) start chasing that again this season – ending up growing close to the Southlanders (bar Grian) despite his efforts, enough to hallucinate them and be manipulated by the Voice's(/Watchers') false promise to bring them back to life if he follows its commads (in a moment where he expresses resistance to following its commands, and where the Voice is clearly distressing him). LL Episode 8 intro my beloved...

Still, that's to come. At the start of Last Life, he's firmly in a reactionary mindset to the events of 3rd Life, separating himself from that life and that version of him. 3rd Life was a failure on his part (in addition to the emotional damage, but he's trying to separate himself from that side of things and to focus purely on the win), and he's absolutely not wasting this new chance at victory.

So corner to corner, I’ll keep wandering on, Border to border, through woods, through caves, through spawn, Sure, laugh with some, don’t keep it glum, so long as lines are drawn Forego the rest, and don’t invest, just keep on wandering- WATCHERS Wandering, wandering MARTYN -on.

It's Watcher manipulation time, encouraging unhealthy mindsets that help them further their own aims! The more untied he is, the easier he'll be for them to play (less loyalties to others –> the more likely he is to rely on the Voice, and the less resistance there is to doing certain things that might involve those connections). Yes, emotional connections would mean more emotional pain (and so more negative emotions for them to feed on) in the future, but Martyn's very resistant to that idea right now, so it wouldn't do much to push it. They do encourage emotional connections later, though (heavily pushing him towards Ren for example, and note that that's only once it would mean Martyn betraying his own alliance (which would mean more emotional pain for someone, regardless of its impacts on Martyn himself. Or it would've been if that was revealed)).

There's another important part here, though. After all the 'allies won't help you' etc in the first two verses, I wanted to make clear that Martyn's not against being around people, far from it – he's almost constantly around people, just not generally around the same ones for an extended period of time – it's just the emotional investment he's trying to avoid. He is a very social player, he does enjoy joking and/or messing around with others and does it constantly, that's also an important aspect to him (he's a very "you talk a lot but never say anything" type of person**). So "sure, laugh with some, don't keep it glum" is a very important line!

LIZZIE Welcome, oh welcome to my tree fort, yet unnamed. MARTYN Be careful with that name you pick — don’t want it to get… flamed. LIZZIE …Ah. They won’t demean A fellow green? …Your lives? MARTYN That’s mine to know Is that a tower over there? See you, I’ve got to go!

And immediately, here's an example of Martyn actually messing with someone (as a new player, Lizzie is fun to tease)! His "don't want it to get flamed" triples as that, as a wordplay demonstration, and as another recognition that they are living in a world where people will inevitably turn on each other. If something's flammable, it will be burned.

Lizzie's characterisation here is meant to show her as someone who wants to do her best and is establishing herself, but is unsure/nervous about how the game will unfold due to having had no past experience (, the '...your lives?' comment is prompted by the momentary urge to want to know how close Martyn is to turning Red and potentially burning down her tree fort) There is the element of naïvité coming from not having lived through a previous series, too – not thinking about how badly having a flammable base may end, 'they won't demean a fellow green' again here, etc.

Because this verse is a dialogue, I focused a lot more on trying to keep the character's voices true to themselves as well. With Lizzie, the "Welcome, oh [welcome]" is moreso there to suit the 'fairy queen' persona she was going for, but the "tree fort... yet unnamed" would be something she'd say for humour's sake, in her particular style which I cannot for the life of me describe; her 'ah' would be quite deadpan in that way too (again, not sure which words to use to describe it). With Martyn we have the aforementioned wordplay, but also his method of slipping out of situations that go in directions he wants to avoid... which is to pretend to get distracted by something else, promptly change the subject to that thing, and run off (a clear example of this is in Wild Life when Scott is questioning him about his powers, and he conveniently gets 'distracted' by a zombified Skizz dying in the distance instead (~17:30 in his vid). Maybe not the smoothest of getaways... but a habit nonetheless).

TEAM BEST BEST will be the best, and we’ll show em what we got With our matching shields, and our towering snow fort MARTYN Hold on a sec, where’s your respect? BDUBS Respect? MARTYN Yeah, that’s my bit! Same shields? Snow? A world ago? With Ren and- fine, have it

Again, this verse is largely leaning into character voices and interactions. BEST do initally set out to be the heroes of the server (eg by recovering the enchanting table and returning it to the server), and do have some very loud/enthiusiastic figures within their ranks (Bdubs and Skizz), so the tone of their lyrics is meant to reflect this (though the instrumentation, which we'll talk about in a different post, does a lot of this work as well). Of course you also have Etho who's the complete opposite of course (and Tango somewhere in the middle), but it's the louder voices that are going to be heard in the interactions so it's their side of things I'm portraying. And, as mentioned before, we also have Martyn completely going into mock-offense mode.

SCAR/BEST/LIZZIE/MARTYN No matter if you're in your sixes or twos/Let's find some ore to- I'll sell you an offer you/-mine cannot refuse/It'll be the fairy fort! Crystals for fleeing,/I'm fine just to chat Crystals for flame,/Not falling for that! Survival's the ALL Name of the game!

Pretty self-explanatory here, with Martyn not buying into Scar's deals and other alliances going about their lives. BEST heading down to mine is set-up for the next song (aptly named "Down In The Mines"), in which Bdubs reveals he was cursed with the Boogeyman curse while down there, narrating his experiences in the form of a ghost story.

SCAR/BEST/LIZZIE/MARTYN Corner to corner, I'll just keep on wandering, wandering on/Yes, join the fairy fort, I'd love to have you here!/BEST will be the best, with our diamonds and our gold We can build a secret passageway so we'll always be near!/Put us to the test, and you'll see that we won't fold/A crystal or spell, oh, Joel, you'd help me sell?/Through woods, through caves- -But still for my sake I probably should find a team: it would do me some-/We'll aid each other when we need, together we will succeed, oh-/Put us to the test and you'll see that we'll do-/Goody! Magical Mountain we'll be! ALL (including Cleo, BigB and Joel, who are now onstage with their respective alliances) Good – It's this I've understood!*

Here we see the different players' attitudes to playing the game, and what they've "understood" about how to play it, as well as more alliances forming. Nothing much to say about Scar and Martyn here (aside from Martyn expressing the fact that he does want to be part of an alliance for numbers' sake, which we'll build more on in Song 4 (A(ha)lliances) when the Southlands are formed; and also continuing the thread that he sees others as figures he can use to benefit himself. Maybe there were things to say about Martyn here!), but a lot of Team BEST's part is foreshadowing ("put us to the text and you'll see that we won't fold"... they will fold. They will) in addition to contuining the 'server heroes' thread from earlier. Meanwhile, Lizzie's part continues to show her as a player who hasn't experienced the way the server devolves into bloodshed, still having a pretty idealistic view about the co-operation between herself, BigB and Cleo without thinking about the ways they'll inevitably have to turn on each other if they get later in the game.

The part about the tunnel connecting the Fairy Fort to Cleo and BigB's base is taken directly from the first session (originally proposed as an escape tunnel, in the same conversation that Cleo pointed out that the fort was flammable).

UPPER WATCHERS/LOWER WATCHERS Oh, wander, wander on/Wonder, wonder On/When they'll all start to turn tails Wonder, wonder/Wander, wander When trust will yield to betrayals/On

I've mentioned it before, but the Watchers feed on negative emotions, which is why they run the Life series. This is one of the few times we see emotions from them, as they're very excited to see what chaos and carnage this new game they've formed will bring (which I took care to portray in my voice)!

WATCHERS/MARTYN Till the rest are gone.../Right, here I go again – I'll fight with my axe drawn* Oh, wander, little pawn/But, unlike then... I'll lead, not play a pawn.

I've talked about this in the 'abridged' version, so I won't repeat that. The other thing here is the axe being an obligatory Dogwarts reference (or, more accurately, an obligatory rhyme (with 'pawn') which gave way to a Dogwarts reference I took).

[End]

(You can hear the instrumental continue for a while – ideally, Martyn would talk for a bit with Scott, Pearl and Jimmy, but though I can act through singing I can't act through speech and I'm not subjecting viewers to that xD)

If you've read this, thank you so much! You can definitely chart me going more and more unhinged as this progressed...

*eg by also wanting to find friendships, to be helpful while you can, etc, in addition to winning. There's no secondary aim there, aside from protecting himself from emotional harm.

**(to quote Martha from Doctor Who)

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