#sorry for all the melodrama this morning everyone

[wildsaltair]

don't talk to me don't look at me don't breathe in my direction while I mourn my husband

[allkordelia]

Keep Me in Your Thoughts (25)

It was dim in the room when daemon woke up, he move his arm on the bed to find the body that was next to him last night. His eyes snap open and look to the side of the bed to find no one, he frown and look around the room.

He got up walking over to the closed curtain to look out to see it was snowing heavily, he wonder to himself if that meant that rhaelle had a free afternoon. He turn at the sound of the door hoping to see rhaelle, but got an servant instead he watch as a young red hair woman come in with a tray in her hands. 

"Oh, dear." She squeak out before averting her eyes to the floor, daemon furrow his brows at her sudden action, "I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to disturb you..." she said still looking at the floor, daemon hum in response.

"Rhaelle isn't here." He stated as he step forward making the girl look up before looking back down.

"I-I know...the food is for you, my lord. The queen requested it for your liking." A wide smile appeared on daemon's face before he walk towards the girl, the poor child had to look to side when daemon stood in front of her to take the tray from her.

"Where is the queen, now?" He asked looking at his favorites all in one tray.

"A council meeting, she told me to tell you once you are finish with breakfast to meet her in the north tower." Daemon hum before looking at the young woman to find her still avoiding looking at her, he tilt his head to the side looking at the girl in thought.

"Is there anything else you need, my lord." He watch for a second before grunting out a no and turning away from her to go back to bed.

The girl was quick to leave, she walk out to find other maids standing out waiting for her.

"So?"

"Was he awake."

"Did you see it? " Another girl asked with a wide grin as they stood around their friend wanting what alora said was true.

"I saw...more than I wanted too." The red hair said embarrassed making the others giggle and pull their friend away from the door so she could tell them everything.

The gossip of what transpired between the queen and the prince spread around the castle like wildfire, some find it entertaining since the moment the prince arrived everyone got to see the banter between the two. It was like watching one of the plays that the bards would put on at the amphitheatre. Others did not care for the melodrama that is the queen's business, but they're were others who did not like the fact that the queen was sleeping with the rogue prince, some being the men who serve under the queen.

Rhaelle watch annoyed as Marrio and Banneth argue across the table, either men trying to out shout the other to get their points across. And all over who rhaelle was bedding.

"Shut up!" Rhaelle hiss slamming her hand down on the table making it shake, the two man stop and look at her just like the others.

"Banneth you have called a meeting regarding rumors when you know we have a snow storm right outside our shores," she glared at the older man who duck his head, "Rather than helping prepare my subjects, I had to spent the better half of my morning listening to YOU TWO FIGHT!" She stood from her chair piss and angry, both man look down ashame, they knew what they were doing was petty and could have been discussed at a later date.

"I am...sorry, my queen." Banneth spoke first looking up, marrio looks up and says the same thing, but this does not deterre rhaelle as she now have to set some things straight.

"I do not care for your sorries, I care about my people. So, it seems I need to make some things clear," she looks at marrio who was looking at the table, he was tracing his nail along the wood avoiding the queen's wrath.

"As much as I hate to discuss marriage especially since I am still married to the king, marrio..." The man look up and at rhaelle, "And I are still set to be married once the king's pass on," Marrio look away annoyed and upset, rhaelle notice and didn't show a lick of care, she knew what he was doing when he was arguing for rhaelle and daemon to be married.

"That's good to hear, my queen. But, the rumors..." Banneth trailed off when rhaelle gave him a look.

"What I do with daemon in my chamber is my business and mines alone," she said with a firm voice, so they will understand that daemon and her business was her business and nobody else's.

"I still do not understand." Meleah says, rhaelle glance at the woman, she haven't spoken to her since the argument in her room.

"What is there not to understand." She stated irritated.

"What if daemon wants more than just being your whore, I don't think he will take kindly that you will be marrying another." Meleah said, marrio glance at rhaelle to see her reaction, but rhaelle did not show any emotions as she spoke.

"If he doesn't like who I am marrying than he can fuck off back to King's Landing, I couldn't care less." All this talk about daemon this and that was getting on her nerves, she needed to go and make sure they had enough beds and blankets at the septon.

"But–" Meleah started.

"Why don't you let me worry about him and you worry about making sure there's no traitors among us trying to kill me." Meleah glare at the rhaelle with a look of annoyance, rhaelle gave her look that said she was not in a mood for arguing. Meleah was never one to let things go or listen.

"I'm just saying it would be better to marry daemon–"

"Meleah!" Banneth looks at her shock and slightly betrayed by her words.

"I am right and you all know it, a marriage between house targaryen will finally allow westeros to open up to us." She says looking around the table at the other men, "I'll agree with meleah." Marrio said making banneth roll his eyes in irritation.

"Oh, shut up, you fool." Banneth snap getting tired of marrio voice, "The queen has made her decision, thank the gods. We need House Rogare for their money and support, what do House Targaryen provide for us expect for complaints and their constant condescending attitude."

"You are confuse, dear friend. It is otto who treat us that way."

"Yes and king viserys let's him, and besides," Banneth crosses his arms over his chest, "The queen had said it countless of times that the rogue prince gets bored easily from his duties, what makes you think he won't give up on his duties to this kingdom when he is king."

"Because he loves her." Meleah says standing up as she looks at banneth, rhaelle turn her eyes over to the woman, "For months, he have shown her that he can be responsible and reliable, I have seen him in the morning with baelor going to his riding lessons and not one time was he absent. Not even when he and the queen didn't talk for weeks."

The men in the room were quiet.

"He even started going with valaena to do her duties, many have seen him in the city helping valaena feed the poor and visit the orphanage." Rhaelle brows shot up slightly, she didn't know about that she wonder why he didn't tell her, "Does that sound like the same man, who was said to abandon his duties for whores and chaos." She asked looking at banneth, the older man frown with a look of disappointment.

"I...I guess not," he said painfully making a small smile appear of meleah's lips, "I guess people can change, even a man who people refer to as the Rogue Prince can become...king material." He finish in disdain.

The young queen stare at Meleah with frustration, "I will like to talk ro the mistress of secrets alone, leave us." She announced to the men, they all stood up and bow at her as she continue staring at Meleah.

"Vogero. Marrio. Banneth" The hand of the queen, the lord of coin, and lord of law stop mid way of leaving their spot, "Wait outside I will need your help with gathering some guards and maids to help with the storm." They bow and walk out with the rest of the men leaving the queen and the priestess alone.

@watercolorskyy @green-lxght @spderm4nnnn @supermassiveblackhope @avidreader73 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @beggarsnotchoosey

[bereft-of-frogs]

friday! and a nice friday too, the sun is out and everything!

books:

(finished) This Wretched Valley - Jenny Kiefer: I maintain this would have been better/scarier if they had been good at their jobs lol, like I said last week. Like imagine how scarier if you're doing everything right and still can't escape and slowly realize there's some*thing* keeping you in the wilderness? Personal preference.

(finished) (phone book) Into the Dark - Claudia Gray: You know, I didn't love this one as much as I did on the first pass a couple years ago. A weird opinion shift: I really don't like Cohmac haha. I remember liking him before and this time I'm like...no you can't have custody of Reath, I don't like you. Ok, that's...not the most mature book critique but still. I wish either Jora hadn't died or Dez or Orla had taken custody of Reath :( But it does make me consider giving Midnight Horizon a second chance, because my opinions shifted so much, maybe the opposite will happen with that one. Or maybe I'll just be able to further justify my Cohmac dislike.

(in-progress) (phone book) The Rising Storm - Cavan Scott: Bell is back! I missed Bell and Ember. Not too far in yet but at least I am back on track. I feel like this is where things start getting sadder which makes me happy (sorry Bell) :)

(in-progress) The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien: I'm like 30 pages from the end lol, I only read this while I have my morning coffee, just to explain why it's taken me like three weeks to read a 250 page children's book.

tv:

(finished) Anthracite (Netflix): What an insane amount of subplots for 6 EPISODES?? Either Netflix needed to greenlight like...4x as many episodes or once they got their budget the writers needed to cut like half the subplots and tighten up focus. I'm still honestly reeling. It did do a good job getting you to care about the main characters despite all the insane plot stuff. Also this was weird: like 90% of it was really well shot, and then randomly there would be a scene that looked like it was shot by someone in high school. I don't know if they had to go back in for reshoots or what but occasionally it was like oof that's not good.

(finished) Baby Reindeer (Netflix): Everyone was talking about this so I had to check it out. It's very intense. Is it bad I found the comedy shows were the hardest scenes to watch, despite everything else?

(in-progress) Under the Bridge (Hulu): Seems like sort of a standard mystery but I'm really just here for Riley Keough and Lily Gladstone and the moody vibes and so far am satisfied.

(in-progress) Constellation (AppleTV+): Nice little bit of unreality/space horror so far. I actually got got by a couple scenes, I'm so desensitized to horror that it's nice when I actually get creeped out by something (the ARM in the second episode!!). Looking forward to seeing where this is going, judging by the first two episodes, seems like my pet conspiracy theory (the Lost Cosmonaut theory) is getting a high budget AppleTV adaptation, never thought I'd see the day. Also I got kind of hyped about the Canadarm cameo in the first episode. The shot panned over the space station and I out loud shouted 'it's the Canadarm!', startling the cat

film:

The Apology (2022): Apparently this was the only movie I watched this week, it was ok, mostly just background noise for making lunch/writing. I wish it had leaned more comedic, which is not something I usually say but I think it would have fit if they'd committed to making a really dark horror-comedy rather than flipping between predictable melodrama and some pretty funny catharsis.

craft update: I am free of the tyranny of having to purl! I joined up the two sides of my sweater so I'm knitting in the round now yay! It turned out I didn't have a problem with needle size, the whole thing did fit on one circular needle so now we're cooking with gas.

to do:

finish the work day. ick. but depending on how long it takes me to get through actual work, I can probably get some writing done too

laundry, both clothes laundry on my lunch hour (now) and sheets/towels at my parents'

I'm through 8 out of 12 chapters of current wip! Unfortunately chapter 9 is SO action-focused. why did I do this to myself. I mean I know why because then chapter 10 gets to be angsty but damn I have to block out so many action scenes. why.

I ordered a filing cabinet. it arrived. most of the negative reviews were about how hard it was to put together. so I should put 'assemble filing cabinet' on this list but I think 'let filing cabinet percolate' is a more realistic entry

I might go to a local yarn store on my way up to my parents' tomorrow, because it's local yarn store day and I do not need any more stitch markers but BUT I want more stitch markers. don't @ me I know I have plenty of stitch markers.

pick a new book: I'm torn between giving Kill Show another shot, starting the other book I have checked out of the library (The Deep Sky) or a secret third thing

have a good weekend everyone!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 297: We’re Bustin’ Outta This Joint

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi did his best to undo all of the good vibes from the Girl Power arc by killing off Midnight. It sucks and I still don’t like it, but it is what it is. Unfortunately, Not Killing Off Your One Female Teacher Character With Any Character Development was worth 30% of his grade for the semester, so it brought his average down all the way to a C-, and so he and his report card will just have to live with that. Meanwhile Ochako did some rescuing, and the other U.A. kids lay around unconscious and/or traumatized. The chapter ended with an abrupt cut to Tartarus, where AFO is apparently just chilling and waiting for the Nearly High Ends to come bust him free. What kind of a cliffhanger is that to leave your fans hanging on for three whole weeks. Who’s suffering more here, the characters or the readers.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “okay I know you all want to know what happens to Deku and Shouto and the rest, but have you considered finding out what happens to Overhaul and Muscular and Moonfish and New Girl Character instead?” Fandom is all, “you had us at New Girl Character.” Seiji’s dad is all, “I’m just going to say a bunch of stuff to help make sure none of the readers feel conflicted about cheering on a bunch of mass murderers escaping from prison.” Tomura is all, “dammit AFO why are you still here.” AFO is all, “shhh, Tomura, go back to sleep.” Tomura is all, “wtf but you’re literally hijacking my body and continuing to shred it to bits while we break into BnHA Alcatraz to recruit your own personal Suicide Squad.” AFO is all, “:).” Real!AFO is all, “HERE I AM, EVERYONE, SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING.” And then the chapter ends. Geez.

oh shit lol it’s a whole big fucking page all about Tartarus

my very first thought was “that’s a long-ass fucking bridge”, and then I went to go google “longest bridges”, and Wikipedia was all “son there are literally a hundred and fifty bridges in the real world longer than 5km, and the longest one is actually 165km”, and I was all “oh shit I really don’t know jack shit about bridges.” then I looked at the list for a few more minutes and realized that the super-long bridges were all built over land, and that the longest bridge over water is only 38km. which is way more reasonable, but also still really fucking long though?? ngl I would freak the fuck out on that bridge. what does any of this have to do with Tartarus you ask?? absolutely nothing, I literally forgot I was reading a chapter for a sec lol uh

anyway, my parting thought on the bridge is that it kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a giant island fortress prison, but whatever. moving on

and the six levels thing is straight out of One Piece lol. something tells me BnHA’s prison break arc isn’t going to be quite as fun. hmm

so now we’re cutting to “the Bronze Gate”, which is the main entrance off of the bridge, and some goat-looking motherfucker is out here trying to become my new favorite character. bro

SON OF A BITCH WHAT’S WITH THE BULLETS FLYING IN THE BACKGROUND. DON’T TELL ME THEY’RE SHOOTING AT GYGES. THEY CAN’T KILL OFF MY FRESHEST HOMIE GYGES. SURELY THEY WOULDN’T

ooh and now, giant robots!

giant robots with machine guns. “I’m very sorry I killed off Midnight, makeste” you know what, fuck you Horikoshi. thinking you can buy my affections back so easily

does Gyges have six arms??? look how fucking calm he is announcing the code red security lockdown, holy shit. GYGES

NOOOO

NO NOT BRIAREUS. THIS DAY EXACTS A HEAVY TOLL

YO, WHAT

he came there himself?? so much for making the Noumus do his dirty work. and based on the speech bubble shape and font, this is still AFO talking

uh oh what’s happening

is he using Decay or is his arm just sort of crumbling to pieces because he hasn’t had time to heal up yet? if it’s the former this prison break is going to set a record for shortest arc yet isn’t it

now we’re cutting to B10 which is apparently the lowest level. but do they mean lowest as in the least security, or lowest as in the deepest underground, a.k.a. the most security? idk it’s confusing and I think they should be more specific. is it B like in basement?? are there six levels or ten?? stupid Tartarus

anyway so the guards are talking about how Gigantomachia is scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning. heh. will there even be a Tartarus tomorrow morning

(ETA: WELL, UH.)

wow they’re talking about just killing him outright. damn

I kinda feel like “prison guard” is one of those jobs that just sort of naturally attracts shitty people. anyways yeah, Seiji your dad is a real piece of work

and he’s even doubling down on it after the other guy repeatedly keeps trying to hush him up. dude we get it, you’re an asshole

ooh and now we’re getting an interesting look at the various prisoners, some of whom look suspiciously familiar!

for starters, that’s definitely Moonfish in the upper left corner, I’m like 99% sure. not quite clear who that is across from him in the upper right, but it’s been a hot minute since we saw Muscular, so maybe?

and could that be Overhaul in the panel beneath him?? they’re not showing his face so I assume it’s someone we’d recognize, and he’s the only currently-incarcerated villain with that haircut as far as I can recall. though it seems weird that he’s not restrained more given his quirk. I thought Horikoshi mentioned in Ultra Analysis that he’d gotten it back somehow. eh well we will wait for answers

I don’t recognize the person to his left either (though she has an oddly familiar look to her?). but the person on the bottom right, next to Kurogiri... is it Stain?? the hair and body language are sure giving off Stain vibes. if someone had told the me from two years ago that I’d actually be excited to see Stain again I would have said you were full of shit. and yet here we are. these sure are interesting times

anyway so now the Code Red intruder alarm is blaring. and I gotta say, that one scene sure was effective at killing any sympathy I might have been inclined to feel for these guards lol. bring on the imminent massacre

“what horrible timing” lol yes. it’s almost as if they planned it that way

uh oh

is he omae wa shindeiruing. watch your six, Mr. Prison Guard

oh shit

WHAT DID I SAY. WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY. but nooo, you all were all, “but a bridge is more convenient!” VERY WELL THEN, LIE IN THE BED THAT YOU HAVE MADE

anyway so it’s the High Ends lol. I mean we already knew it was them. let’s just get on with it

omfg Tomura ARE YOU RIDING ONE

WHAT ARE YOU, A NAZGUL. WHY IS THIS MY FAVORITE THING

and it looks like it actually is Tomura again, too (as opposed to AFOmura)

-- is he using Decay on himself?? is that what it is?? or no wait, is this just more of the weird side effect shit that’s been happening since he Awakened. actually yeah never mind that’s clearly what it is

y’all this man is out here having a full blown argument with himself

so this is equal parts compelling and hilarious to me right now lol. like I feel so bad for Tomura, but I also lowkey want to see how far this escalates. like do you think he’d go as far as to punch himself in the face. where will this journey lead us

fucking look at this shit

other people have already mentioned this, but with this scene especially it makes me really curious how they’re going to show this in the anime. will it be AFO’s voice coming out of Tomura’s mouth? or Tomura’s voice using AFO’s speech patterns? more importantly, will it be cool and dramatic, or will it actually wind up being hilarious? or both?? never count out both

also he’s looking pretty good there in that bottom panel with his one eye just barely visible. that doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but here I am, pointing it out

also also, lol at Tomura being all, “the fuck do you mean, ‘rest’, you’re the one that dragged my body out here to raid a fucking prison,” and AFO being all, “oh yeah, lol, true true, but I meant rest after that.” yes, this man clearly has nothing but the purest intentions, Tomura. trustworthy af

this fucking guy. Tomura is your bullshit radar finally operational yet?? can you see yet that it was always his intention to use you right from the very start?? oh man I am starting to get fidgety now listening to this

so Tomura’s saying he doesn’t just want to be used as a chess piece. and AFO is all, “well okay but what if it’s a VERY NICE AND IMPORTANT chess piece.” bro DID HE STUTTER

-- AHH BUT NEVER MIND THAT, HERE IT IS, THIS IS WHERE THE FUN STARTS OMG

GO ON AND ACQUIRE THEM THEN! omg. why am I so fucking excited. it seriously makes no sense. like seriously, ‘hooray, our old buddies, Overhaul and Stain!!’ -- come again now?? who is this person that I have become

meanwhile AFO is making all this fuss and I really don’t understand it though

why would you need to plow directly through the building. why can’t you just use doors like a normal person. it’s not like they can lock you out, like hello, you can literally turn anything you touch into dust, what’s with all the melodrama

anyway so he’s apparently hitting the prison with some sort of EMP attack now and shutting down all their systems

omg the suspense is killing me. this is going to be so badass once it’s animated, but right now all I keep thinking is “YES, GREAT, CAN WE PLEASE JUST MOVE IT ALONG”

the doors are opening ahhhhhhh come on come on come on let’s go let’s get to the excitement already

now the guards are running over to try and regain control. but, like

yeah that’s pretty much how I’m expecting the rest of this to go basically

so now they’re shooting at the dust cloud lol. well if there’s one thing movies have taught me, it’s that bad guys who wait inside clouds of dust while panicked cops blindly rain bullets at them until they run out of ammo are basically invincible lol. soooooo

OHHHHH SHIT

AHAHAHAHAHAHA. THEY ARE SO FUCKED LOL, SHIT

YEP, AND HERE’S ANOTHER ONE

is this the first time we’ve seen Moonfish’s face? I feel like we might have caught a glimpse of it before on an omake page or something. either way, it wasn’t anything I actually needed to see again. thanks...?? I guess??

okay but seriously, are we supposed to actually know who this badass lady is?? like I don’t know her but I feel like I know her, you feel?

(ETA: lol there are already like 60 different theories about how she’s related to every single character in the series. will be interesting to see if anything comes of this. although we did just get three “this villain was secretly related to [insert character(s) here] all along” reveals just in the last arc, so idk, it might be better if we pass on it this time lol.)

girl who are you. please stick around. for the love of god don’t let this man kill you off too

????

wait so is this Overhaul? boy sure has seen better days huh. but the floppy sleeves... yeah, it’s gotta be him

anyway so then the only ones missing are Stain and Kurogiri, yes?? omg. and one page left to go

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO CONVINCE ME HE COULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS SHIT RIGHT FROM THE VERY BEGINNING. FUCKING TIME-BIDING DRAMA QUEEN

AND HE’S JUST FLOATING HIS LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM ALONG BEHIND HIM SOB. THIS FUCKING GUY

AND IS HE JUST ABSENTMINDEDLY DRAGGING SOME POOR SCHLUB’S CORPSE ALONG BESIDE HIM LIKE A SLEEPY TODDLER CARRYING THEIR TEDDY BEAR. I FUCKING CAN’T. REST IN PEACE, FRIEND. GIVE MY REGARDS TO GOOD OLD BRIAREUS

so that’s it! and we still don’t have any idea what AFO is actually planning to do now, after all of that. are they going to merge bodies?? or is he going to try to switch with him?? either way Tomura’s body has to be part of the plan somehow since he keeps making so much of a fuss over it. flkhglkhlk. dammit I need answers lol

[sassyhobbits]

"You look even more beautiful covered in snow."

For rowaelin (post-canon)

oooh a post-canon fic! i think this is the first time ive written anything like it! this is short but sweet, and i hope everyone enjoys

~~~

There were few sights that Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, queen of Terrasen, enjoyed more than her homelands covered in a fresh blanket of white snow.

The winters in Terrasen had a reputation of becoming brutal with their terrible blizzards and snowstorms. Though, when the sky wasn’t saturated with fat, gray clouds, it was beautiful. Like today.

The snow shone like thousands of diamonds under the brilliant sunlight, nearly blinding. It was perfect, like a painting or a dream… but no. It was real, and this was Aelin’s home.

It had been three years since the defeat of Erawan, three years of peace and rebuilding. Three years as queen. And three years with her friends, family, and the people she loved.

Aelin sometimes couldn’t believe that they had succeeded. Against all odds, they had triumphed. The people of Terrasen were happy, building up their lives and their kingdom once more, helping Terrasen become as strong as it had once been.

Yulemas was only a few days away, and Orynth was filled to the brim with guests. Aelin loved seeing her home so warm and full, people happy and celebrating freely. No fear, no oppression. Just joy.

Aedion and Lysandra had come to the palace for the holiday, as did Elide and Lorcan, leaving behind their duties as Lord and Lady for a short while to celebrate. Darrow had brought young Evangeline, who grew more beautiful with each passing day, to Orynth as well.

It was perfect. Aelin couldn’t have been happier.

They took advantage of the beautiful, but brisk, day, taking a walk around the grounds. Evangeline was running through the snow with Fleetfoot, her blonde-red hair like a beacon against the white snow, her laughter like a bell in the air. Lysandra was holding her son, who was nearly a year old now, against her hip, walking side by side with Aedion. Lorcan was being a fussy bastard, hovering over Elide who was a few months pregnant, but completely capable of walking on her own. Aelin glanced over her shoulder and laughed quietly to herself as Elide snapped at her husband once more.

“I hope you’re not going to be that ridiculous when I’m with child,” Aelin murmured to Rowan, holding her husband's arm as they strolled across the snowy ground.

Rowan pressed his lips together tightly, an answer within itself. “I shall not make promises I cannot keep, Fireheart.”

Aelin pinched his side playfully, making Rowan hiss his displeasure. He leaned in close and nipped at the shell of her pointed ear. The shiver that raced down her spine had nothing to do with the cold air.

“Must you do that here? There are children!” Aedion griped, pointing to his son who was more interested in sticking his hand in his mouth than anything else.

Aelin rolled her eyes at her cousin as they came upon a large, frozen lake. The whole party slowed to a stop to admire the view. It was expansive, but lovely. A stunning view.

Aelin rested her head on Rowan’s shoulder. “Hm. You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?”

“That time you tried to feed me to that creature in the lake under the mountain.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed what she had uttered. Oh, Aelin had been saving that little story for years. She delighted in sprinkling tales of the wild things she had endured into conversations here and there, keeping everyone on their toes. She had no shortage of melodrama.

“You did what, Whitethorn?” Lorcan asked incredulously.

“That’s a gross oversimplification-”

“He froze over a lake,” Aelin said loudly over her husband, “chained the kitchen boy to the middle, and sent me, who had no control of my magic, into the middle of it. Somehow, my dear husband was unaware of the giant serpent that lived in the lake. Which promptly tried to swallow me whole.”

The small crowd simply blinked at the king consort, who had no defence against what she had just said.

“A serpent?!” Lysandra cried.

“How could you not know-?” Elide asked.

Aedion shook his head in disbelief. “You almost killed my cousin for a training exercise?”

Aelin almost felt sorry for her husband as he was interrogated by all of their friends. Her quiet laugh was drowned out by their shouting, letting go of Rowan’s arm and slipping away into the treeline. Her absence wasn’t even noticed amidst the arguing.

Aelin took a moment to enjoy the peace and solace she found within the Oakwald. Walking into the ancient forest always felt as though she was coming home. Her keen eyes noted the tiny footprints in the soft snow, following them to a few scraggly bushes and finding the Little Folk peering at her. She smiled and waved hello.

The young queen lost track of time as she wandered between the towering pines, tracing her fingers over frosty trunks and relishing in the cold bite of the wind against her cheeks. It was truly a gift that she was able to take this time to herself, to wander and let herself go, without feeling as though she was failing someone. She had brought peace to her continent. There was no war to fight, no evil to defeat. It had brought freedom to her people.

It had brought freedom to herself too.

Aelin paused, sensing something but not being able to pinpoint exactly what it was until it was too late. She glanced upwards just in time to see a familiar white-tailed hawk disturb a branch heavy with snow, causing a heavy sheet of it to fall right on top of her head.

Aelin gasped at the shock of cold, at the bits of snow that slipped down the back of her fur-lined gown.

“Rowan!”

The hawk’s cry sounded suspiciously like a laugh before it swooped down and, with a flash of white light, shifted.

“You deserved that,” Rowan said simply, planting herself before her.

Aelin glared. “It took my ladies an hour to do my hair this morning… it looked so beautiful.”

Rowan brushed a few flakes from Aelin’s golden hair before his palm cradled her cheek. “You look even more beautiful covered in snow.”

A roll of the eyes. “You’re a terrible sap, Buzzard. You’re lucky I love you.”

Rowan chuckled lowly, the sound leading to a warm happiness spreading through Aelin’s chest. She savored every laugh she heard from her normally stoic husband. He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

“I love you too, Aelin.”

They savored a few more slow, soft kisses in the privacy of the Oakwald, wrapped up entirely in one another. Yet, Rowan eventually pulled back, raising a silver brow at her. “Now, I do expect you to go back and fully explain what happened to our court so they don’t maim me.”

Aelin’s smile was nothing short of feral. “Never.”

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

taglist:@criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

(I'm tagging my usual hotchreid taglist but let me know if you would not like to be tagged in this fic OR if you'd only like to be tagged once it's complete! Either fill in the taglist form again or DM me.)

[mossflowermouse]

This is a gift for @ah-nakin as part of the @starwarssecretsanta exchange - I hope you like it! Massive thanks to @lilhawkeye3 for organizing this, it’s been so much fun <3

(1.5k. In which Obi-Wan’s padawan and grandpadawan kids decide he needs a rest, pretty much everyone agrees with them, and nobody in this lineage is capable of doing anything without being Dramatic about it.)

Anakin and Ahsoka have been plotting something.

Not that there’s any real proof of it, mind you – they’ve become far too careful with their schemes lately to actually risk him overhearing anything – but Obi-Wan’s seen them trading glances, and he knows that look. At the very least, it means mischief. At its worst, well, quite a few officials are still scratching their heads over how anyone had managed to divert two-thirds of a parade plus cheering onlookers through the middle of the Temple last Republic Day. Although in fairness to the two of them, that one hadn’t been entirely their fault. It would have been resolved far more quickly had Master Yoda not chosen to interpret “please help” as “please help Anakin and Ahsoka” and gone to assure a bemused steward that of course this was the correct route for the parade, keep going you should, enjoying it the younglings are. 

(Mace had eyed Obi-Wan a little suspiciously when he’d informed the Council of that part. Obi-Wan had given his friend his most innocent I’m-a-responsible-Jedi-Master look in return; after all, his intention in going to Master Yoda had been to get the misunderstanding cleared up. And if it hadn’t been, Mace can’t prove it.)

Now, though, his padawans seem to be taking steps to avoid including him in their newest plot. Which means he’s almost certainly the target.

Ah well. Whatever it is will most likely be a nuisance, but a harmless one. There’s no point worrying about it now. Obi-Wan has more pressing matters to address, like the stack of paperwork he really ought to make a start on before the Council meeting at noon, and then there are a few odds and ends to check with Anakin about, and then –

There’s a knock at the door. He knows before answering it that Anakin and Ahsoka are standing outside, their familiar Force signatures bright with amusement. Well then. Perhaps he won’t have to wait that long to find out what they’re up to after all.

The first thing Obi-Wan sees as the door slides open is Anakin’s grin, which more or less confirms his hunch; Ahsoka is out of sight.

“Anakin. I wasn’t expecting to see you up this early. What brings you here?”

Anakin smiles innocently at him, which is never a good sign. “Well, Ahsoka and I were talking, and we think you should take more days off. Starting today. Take a break, Master, it’ll be good for you.”

Obi-Wan wonders, a little guiltily, if he’s misjudged his padawan’s intentions. “I appreciate the thought, Anakin, but I really can’t take today off. There’s an awful lot to sort out while we’re still on Coruscant, so…”

He trails off, suspicions returning in full force as Anakin’s smile widens. “Oh, don’t worry, Master. We’ve got everything planned out.” This is definitely what they’ve been scheming about, then. Obi-Wan wonders if he ought to have a bad feeling about it.

And speaking of we – Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. “Anakin, why is Ahsoka hiding in the corridor? We all know I know she’s there.”

Anakin steps back from the door and gestures to his left, inviting Obi-Wan to take a look. He does. Standing in the corridor and trying desperately to look serious is Ahsoka, wearing a set of Obi-Wan’s robes and a cloak that trails on the floor and a – he squints at the piece of orange fabric stuck to her chin – is that meant to be his beard? It’s awfully scruffy. And rather hastily made, from the looks of it. He blinks a few times in confusion.

“I’m going to be you for the day!” Ahsoka announces. “So you can rest and you don’t have to worry about missing anything.”

Obi-Wan really doesn’t think that’s how this works, but he’s prevented from saying so by Anakin chiming in again. “That’s right. Look, Master, the resemblance is striking. Nobody will even know the difference.”

Obi-Wan stares pointedly at Ahsoka’s montrals and terrible fake beard, then raises an eyebrow at Anakin, who just snickers a little. Before Obi-Wan can rebuke him, though, Ahsoka fixes Anakin with a look of mild disapproval, rubs her temples wearily, and says “Anakin” in an uncannily precise imitation of Obi-Wan’s Coruscanti accent. If he’s being honest, it’s a little surreal.

“Now, Snips, don’t tease Obi-Wan,” Anakin chides. Obi-Wan’s not sure he’s ever heard him sound less sincere. “But she’s right, you know, Master. We can handle everything.”

This is a little ridiculous. “Anakin, I have a Council meeting today - ”

“Don’t worry, Master, we already knew about it,” Anakin interrupts cheerfully. “Ahsoka can manage.”

Ahsoka, who if Obi-Wan recalls correctly was complaining about having to attend so many long briefings just last Taungsday, nods confidently and gives him a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this, Master Kenobi. Just relax!”

“Ahsoka will be there right on time for the meeting, won’t you, Snips?”

Obi-Wan can’t believe this. They can’t be serious.

He looks at them again and sighs internally. No, they are.

***

“ – and I checked with Cody and he told me you didn’t have anything urgent to sort out for the 212th while everyone is on shore leave, and that just leaves your meeting, and we’ve already got that sorted out, trust me, so – ”

“Anakin. I believe you. And I already said I’ll take the day to relax, you don’t have to keep trying to convince me.” It’s…mostly true, though Obi-Wan’s still planning to get a little of that paperwork done once they’ve left to go and cause chaos.

Anakin beams, basking in the success of a plan well executed. “That’s great, Master. Oh, I almost forgot! One other thing before we go – Ahsoka, that cloak’s way too long, you’d better leave it here.”

Ahsoka’s face lights up; clearly this part was planned, because right on cue, she shrugs out of the cloak with a level of exaggerated melodrama that rivals her grandmaster. Obi-Wan’s honestly a little proud to see it.

Anakin picks up the discarded cloak, wraps it around Obi-Wan’s shoulders with a flourish, and steers him firmly back into his room. On his way out, he calls over his shoulder, “By the way, Cody took your ‘pad earlier, so you’re not wriggling out of a day off by doing paperwork either. Relax, Master!”

So even Cody has joined the conspiracy against him. Obi-Wan will admit the betrayal stings a little. He sinks into a chair and resigns himself to a day of doing nothing in particular.

Two and a half cups of tea and half an hour of meditation later, Obi-Wan’s decided this might not be so bad after all. Though he ought to comm someone to explain. Yoda perhaps. Or – no, Yoda will just laugh, better to speak to Mace. And maybe make sure Anakin and Ahsoka don’t cause too much of a disturbance in his absence.

***

“Good morning, Padawan Tano,” holo-Mace says, completely deadpan. “Can I help you with anything?”

Obi-Wan resists the urge to turn the comm back off and throw it across the room; instead, he settles for giving his friend a deeply unimpressed look almost uniquely reserved for Anakin at his most irresponsible. “Mace. If this is meant as revenge for helping them with Republic Day…”

The corner of Mace’s mouth twitches, subtle enough that most would pass it off as a flicker of the holo without a second thought. “Certainly not, padawan.” Yes, it absolutely is. “You seem frustrated. Is there a problem?”

Obi-Wan huffs with exaggerated displeasure that entirely fails to make Mace look even a little bit sorry. “I was planning to explain my absence from the meeting and apologize in advance for anything Ahsoka and Anakin might get up to, but it seems there’s no need. Just how many people did they rope into this, Mace?”

Mace chuckles, dropping the act. “The rest of the Council, Skywalker’s droids, and I expect half your battalion will be in on it too by the end of the day. If you insist on working through every spare minute you shouldn’t be surprised when people notice it, Obi-Wan. They’re only trying to make sure you look after yourself.”

“This seems like far too much effort just to get me to take a day off. You could have just asked.”

“Perhaps,” Mace admits. “But it was funnier to see what Tano and Skywalker would come up with. Although I may regret saying that in a few hours.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, smiling fondly.

The same smile returns early that evening when his padawans drop in, Ahsoka now sporting an even more ridiculous fake beard and Anakin carefully balancing three cups of tea. Obi-Wan invites them both to sit down and gently straightens Ahsoka’s new beard – made by Quinlan this time, apparently, and it covers half her face and is longer than her lekku and honestly, where did Quinlan even get the time to make this? – before taking a seat again himself. As Anakin passes out the tea and Ahsoka excitedly begins to tell him about what Master Plo said to her in the Council meeting, Obi-Wan realises he’s quite intrigued by the inevitably chaotic details of their day. Particularly since with the rest of the Council enabling them this time, nobody can falsely claim he’s responsible for any of it. 

He takes a sip of his tea and settles in to listen.

[lambourngb]

For the first sentence meme: “I didn’t have the words then.”

TITLE: there’s too much smoke to see it

PAIRING: Michael/Alex

TAGS: hurt/comfort, temporary character death, getting back together, lots of talking, lots of sex, brief forlex, malex is endgame, canon typical friendships between everyone

SUMMARY: He had run out of time in making things right with Alex, which honestly was the worst part of dying in Michael’s opinion. It would have been good to die without leaving behind regrets and things unsaid. But then he survived and nothing changed, or did it?

This is finished, 15,858 words.

****. 

“I didn’t have the words then.”

Michael glanced down at the fading bar of his cell phone battery in his hands, before turning to muffle the rib-shaking cough of dirt and grit from his throat into the bend of his arm. In their long history of loving one another, hurting one another, pushing each other, dragging each other back in, this was probably the cruelest thing he has done to Alex, leaving a goodbye message recorded on his phone.

The air was getting thinner in the cavern, the mix of carbon dioxide slowly taking over the available oxygen. Michael wasn’t sure if Mr. Jones wanted him to die from lack of water and food, or suffocate in the sealed space, only that he wanted Michael to suffer. That much had been made clear to Michael as he laid on the rocky ground with the depowering serum coursing through his veins. This was meant to be both his prison cell and grave, sentenced and executed for the crime of being his mother’s son. “I read up on these overly intelligent beasts you’ve surrounded yourself with, and I know they had your mother for a long time, tortured her for years, but it wasn’t by my hand, which lacks a certain emotional closure for me, I’m sure you understand.”

Collapsing the mouth of the abandoned mine with telekinesis, Michael’s last view was the self-satisfied expression of his brother but-not Jones, backing away with a sketched-salute.

After the dust settled and the walls stopped rattling, Michael had taken a quick accounting of the situation. A quick pat down of his pockets had revealed his multi tool, his truck keys and his cell phone, which was half-charged but with zero signal from the insulating barren rock walls of the mine. He had swept the meager flashlight over everything, hoping that he would find a place where there was water seeping in, or evidence that there was a forgotten shaft, only to be met with disappointment. What was even more concerning was that the mineral composition of the mine was unfamiliar to Michael, different from the patterns of strip-mined turquoise he recognized from the caverns that sheltered their pods. 

He wasn’t in Roswell. It was possible he wasn’t in New Mexico at all. The black void from his last memory of leaving his bunker for the night and waking up on the unforgiving ground with Mr. Jones smirking above him could have stretched anywhere from hours to days. 

Michael had paced around the small confines and had traced each crevice with his fingertips for some sign of give to attempt to dig himself out only to realize Jones had brought down the side of the mountain on him. Without access to his powers there was little hope of moving the rock debris on his own. The last time he had been dosed by Helena Ortecho, the effects had lasted for several days, including those frustrating moments when Jesse Manes had held a gun on Alex and then him at the Crashcon. Lucky for all of them that Gregory Manes had been there, and even more so for Maria’s quick thinking with the other bomb.

Luck took a faraway vacation from Michael after that night between getting unceremoniously dumped by Maria, to watching Alex move on easily with Forrest Long, to now. 

When the feeling of his old friend, hunger, began to gnaw at his stomach, he had some hope that the serum would wear off in time to save himself, but then slowly that hope faded from his body when the desire to eat grew quiet, sleeping inside with the burrow his missing powers had made in him.

He was trapped and the executioner’s axe, swinging down on him inescapable, was time. 

Thinking about time, like usual, sent Michael’s thoughts turning down the familiar roads in his mind and heart to Alex. At first, as he pillowed his head on his arms and stared up at the endless black of his prison, he had pretended there were stars above him and Alex was next to him. The rocky ground was just as unforgiving as the metal bed of his pickup truck. He was used to that fantasy, pretending Alex was there with him but just far enough away Michael couldn’t feel his breath or touch his skin. 

It had kept him going during those years when Alex was serving overseas under a whole different starlit sky. It had fueled him during the surprisingly harder times, when Alex was serving in the next state over, one timezone, two at most, but the separation was wider than the Atlantic Ocean under Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. It had kept him hopeful as well, waiting during the in-between times of those scarce visits on leave. And then finally, Alex was serving in Roswell, but by then it was Michael who was out of reach, pulled down so deep in grief and pain he couldn’t see a way forward at all, let alone picture Alex nearby in his mind's eye. 

Now he was out of time to wait and see if maybe the fates would be kind enough to grant them one more chance at being together. 

The screen on his phone went black during his too-long pause. That was happening more and more, thirst was not enough to keep his thoughts sharp and his mind on the task. He kept drifting off on tangents, and time slipped with them as he worked to find the words to say goodbye to Alex. The battery life of his cell phone was dying under every pause, goddamn it, he needed to focus.

“I didn’t have the words then, to tell you how bad things were that summer. You know the one. I know I was too much for you, for anyone, hell even for myself. But… I didn’t mean to do it though, to make you the only good thing in my life back then- that was too much to put on you, when you were just a kid too, trying to survive.” 

His skin was tight and dry, he couldn’t spare the moisture to cry, but his eyes burned with the need. “I blame myself, you know, for you leaving that first time to join up. Going to war. I know you what you said, about wanting to learn how to fight battles and win, but I’m not dumb, Alex. I know your dad catching us together was the real reason. You were trying to fly under his radar, to get out of the house and disappear to California or New York once you turned 18, and I ruined it. And I’m sorry-”

Another rib shaking cough seized Michael’s body, ripping through his throat like a wildfire, leaving ash in its wake as he tried to close his lips around it and hold it in uselessly. It was futile, trying to protect Alex, but he hoped that Alex would hear this goodbye, hear how slow and sleepy the words were and perhaps picture Michael’s death as being a peaceful slip into oblivion. Not the true state of affairs, that he was fighting for air as the walls of the mine seemed to creep closer and closer with every inhalation.

Like the rest of his previous attempts to protect Alex in his life, he was failing again.

 “So, that apology was twelve years overdue. It wasn’t your fault I was a mess back then. And, the shitty part is Alex, if I had to relive that summer again, I can’t promise I would do anything different… except, maybe I would have been there to say goodbye to you.” 

The bar on the phone was slipping closer to the critical red line. 

“Guess that’s what this is. This recording. My poor attempt to make amends and give you a proper goodbye. I don’t have enough room on my phone or battery life to apologize for everything I’ve done, and honestly, what good are apologies? They don’t change the past. I think we did the best we could at the time. It is just- I lied before when I said I used to think we’d end up together.”

That bittersweet morning of watching Alex walk away one last time had changed something inside of Michael though he didn’t know at the time. He had thought he could close the book on their sad story and move on, trying as hard as he had with Maria, only to have that same damn book hurled at his head after Crashcon by Maria when she had ended things. He had spent so much time holding his and Alex’s story open in his heart, that the book didn’t close anymore. The spine was cracked, the binding bent in all the places where they had loved each other and hurt each other, that it made it impossible to shelve again and move on. All it took was the softest breeze of memory; the cover would flip open, and then Michael was right back in the middle of their story again, knowing that he would love Alex forever. 

His thoughts were wandering again, bounding down hallways of melodrama. He almost laughed at the metaphor he had crafted for Alex; that their love was a roughly handled book. Forrest would appreciate it, being a researcher and lover of libraries. Forrest seemed to appreciate everything that Michael hadn’t. 

Michael forced his eyes open, struggling to make sense between the black that circled his vision and the black of the mine. “I tried to stop thinking about it, picturing it, you and me, making a life together. I might have succeeded for a little bit, probably long enough for you to think I got over you. But I didn’t. It never really took. So yeah. I really thought we were going to have more time together. Time to try again. Or like, really try for the first time. I was ready now, to be good to you.” His lips cracked as he smiled in thought, the taste of blood sharpening his attention. “I had these big future plans. I was just waiting for- for the right time.

“Now I’m out of time- fuck, is it cruel to tell you this? I don’t want to be cruel to you. I love you. So much. So, I’m sitting here in the dark, and I’m trying to think good thoughts. God, Alex, you’re every good thought in my head, and I was planning on showing that to you, if you still wanted me.”

If. Michael forced himself not to linger on that. It was a huge ‘if’, considering how happy Alex was at the moment with someone else. Amazing what sharing hobbies but not trauma could do for a relationship. Well, Michael could admit it, that he was selfish enough at this moment not to care. He had held all these thoughts inside for so long, their only company his lost opportunities and dead dreams about finding his family. If he was going to die here, so be it, he didn’t want to leave anything unsaid.

“Maybe you don’t, maybe all you have for me is love in the past tense and that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve stood there before myself, when my tank was dead-empty, and I couldn’t trust that another go-around would take me anywhere but back to heartbreak. Just, if you could indulge me one last time? I want you to know how I saw us.”

His lips stung, the cut breaking open again as he uselessly tried to wet them one more time. Michael curled around his phone holding it close to his mouth, his head was too dizzy to hold up anymore, but he pushed on, this was the important part of his message. “So, the plan was this. It is the same plan I had when we were 17. We’ve both taken some detours, almost got lost even, but I think this was where we were heading. A house, a yard, kids. We were going to have it all. I was going to play the guitar, you would play the keyboard, our daughter would play the drums, our son the flute because fuck gender stereotypes, am I right? Of course, you would have to sing, my voice only sounds good when I’m backing you up.”

The battery hit the final red bar of warning. There was a splash on the phone screen. Carefully Michael brought it to his lips to lick the precious tear away for moisture. His body had surprised him one more time, with tears. 

“And yeah, that’s the gist. I would back you up on everything in our dad band, but you have to let me be the disciplinarian about homework, okay? Also, you don’t know this about me, but I make the best breakfasts ever. That was going to be what I led with by the way, if you were ever single again. I was going to make you breakfast and woo you. Every day for the rest of your life if you wanted. Whatever you wanted. I just want you to be happy… I love you.” 

He closed the recording, saving it as the phone shut down on the exhausted battery. It wasn’t perfect, his last message to Alex, but then, when had he ever managed to tell Alex everything and get it right? He never had, and would never get a chance again. Never. 

Michael tucked the phone into the pocket of his shirt, resting it over his heart and shut his eyes. He was aware that he was breathing harder, his lungs were looking for more non-existent oxygen in the closed off mine. Hopefully, he would slip into unconsciousness soon and feel the weight of grief that had taken up lodging in his chest sometime after the age of 7, finally check out. Evict that pain at last, and he could be free. 

It was the bitterest irony of his current imprisonment.  

***

continued on AO3 -

[forever--rain]

Hello! 1. For Zutara because I’m weak for scar kisses?

Hi, darling! I hope that you find this to your liking! 😁😉 It took some turns I wasn’t expecting.😳

1. Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

The rain sluices down around the Ember Island house in relentless torrents, trapping its inhabitants inside. Storms like this are not uncommon during early fall in the Fire Nation and the islands always receive the brunt of the weather. It’s not a bother to most of the group. They’ve had several days of sun. Sokka, though, had been pretty displeased.

Suffice it to say that the state of the living room and the others is his fault.

Come morning, Zuko will regret having shown Sokka where the key to the liquor cabinet was back during the war.

“Remember the last time we were all here?” the tribesman says to the room at large. He and Suki are sharing a chair and a bottle of plum wine.

“Sokka,” Katara says, rolling her eyes. “Shut up. Everyone remembers.”

“Yeah, Snoozles,” Toph says. She adjusts her position on the couch, inadvertently shoving her feet in Aang’s sleepy and unsuspecting face. He yelps, narrowly avoiding the toe that almost goes up his nose. “Sorry, Twinkletoes.”

“Sit on the couch like a normal person, Toph!”

“No thanks.”

Toph swings her foot in his face once more, this time with intention.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, “what was the name of that theatre troupe we saw while we were here?”

“No,” Zuko replies at the same time Aang supplies, “The Ember Island Players!”

Katara, standing in the doorway for proximity to the storm, groans and buries her face in her hands. The firebender feels a smirk pull at his lips just watching her.

That is, until Sokka continues with, “Yes! Thank you, Aang! Let’s go see if they’re putting on any shows!”

“I’m out,” Katara announces. She nabs her discarded drink from the floor where it’s been resting near her foot and beats a hasty path out the door.

As the other four begin a heated debate about the merits and drawbacks of attending another Ember Island Players performance, Zuko silently follows after her, closing the door behind him. Katara turns when she hears him approach, leaning back against the railing of the porch. He holds out the bottle of whiskey to her, a silent offer that she accepts by holding out her empty glass.

“Oh, Zuko,” she deadpans as he pours her a couple fingers of the drink. “You’re so bad.”

He snorts. “Wrong bad guy, Katara.” Gazing out at the empty, rain-drenched courtyard, he rests his forearms on the railing. Katara bumps his arm with her hip.

“I’m just teasing,” she says softly.

He looks up at her. Feeling encouraged by the half-smile on her face and the whiskey in his belly, he straightens up and leans close. “You don’t have to make fun of me.” The words come out in a near growl that darkens her irises.

“I’ve had eyes for you for years,” she counters.

The melodrama inexplicably slips away from the exchange in favor of something fragile and honest. Zuko blinks at her, dumbstruck and rooted to the spot, as she leans in to press a kiss first to his forehead and then to his right cheek.

“I don’t care if anybody finds out about it.”

And then her lips find his left cheek, fragile and sweet in a way that hits the firebender’s heart with more force than the lightning he took for her seven years ago did. It’s on instinct that he follows her movement when she pulls back, her cheeks flushed. He presses his mouth to hers, hot and demanding, delighted by the noise of enthusiasm she makes before winding her arms around his neck and returning the kiss.

They’re so preoccupied that they don’t hear the door as it opens. What finally interrupts them is the yelling coming from inside the house.

“I’m telling you,” Toph hollers, “you don't want to go out there, Snoozles!”

Zuko’s lips freeze against Katara’s.

“Relax, would you? I’m just going to--Oh, gross!” Sokka yelps.

And then the door slams shut.

Send me a kiss prompt and a ship!

[samnyangie]

Personal reviews on RSL filmography

Rsl, iI thought it’d be a good idea to record my thought on each films rsl was in, it was something I always wanted to do...

Rsl in total, was starred in (excluding tv series etc) 27-ish films, to be honest, considering his years as an actor(approximately more than 30 years) he wasn’t starred in that many. We all know why lol

Just saying I’m not a film expert, therefore the list is very subjective.

The reviews with trigger warning (r*pe, g*re etc): Tape, Killer: Journal of Murder, A glimpse of hell. Tho in the writing I’ve censored them with * since I don’t feel comfortable saying them here

There isn’t particular spoilers except for dps, tape, and ground control

The favourites (literally my life time films)

Dead Poets Society

I assume many would agree, and as many would have, it was my first ever rsl film, like I was on the plane and it was one of the films they offered, and I was like, oh I think i heard of this, so I watched and instantly loved it. The message is very relevant to this day, the cinematography is very beautiful and somehow nostalgic. I was horrified with Neil’s death. Tbh now I’ve seen too many memes and all kind of things from the fandom (which I’m grateful for!) I thought the heartfelt I once had would deluded a bit, however when I watched it again last April with my family at the cinema and it still moved me very deeply.

The age of Innocence

Okay, unpopular opinion here, I love this so much. It’s my all time favourite rsl film. It even outruns dps tiny winy bit haha. Aside from how he had tiny winy screen time, appearing at the end but the fact that he played quite an important role and him being gorgeous in it just<33 I couldn’t help but smiling! It just the whole film was so much of my cup of tea? The melodrama and the hypocrisy hidden by elegance among the upper social classes in 19th century is just what I needed. The more I watch it, the more I understand the characters and their emotions, it’s one of those films you should keep visit to discover the things you weren’t aware of before. I watched it again this morning and i couldn’t stop thinking about it. However, I know some people find it boring and I understand why, my sister is one of them lol(except for a bit where rsl was in) but i think it’s more complex than what it appears to be at a first glance haha. In conclusion, it became one of my comfort film to watch time to time. 

The ones I like<33

Swing kids

At first viewing, I didn’t expected much because it had underwhelming reviews but when I actually saw it, I thought it was quite decent and more and more I watched it, I felt like it was underrated. Yes, I think some directing choices were bit old fashioned and cheesy especially the ending, I’m not saying it was a perfect masterpiece but it deserves more recognition than it has now. Also in spite that there’re some parts being too simplified, it touched on something other films about ww2 normally don’t. It was interesting to see the German perspective on it than Jewish or the allies perspective like many of them does, but of course the latter perspectives matter, it could be argued that they more valid than the former, which partly was where sk criticised for, however, the portrayal of the varied reactions of the German people (in this one particular the teenagers) has its value in their on way. Anyway along side with it, the music and the dance scenes were great, without exaggeration, though Swing kids isn’t my fav, peter’s solo dance scene is my favourite scene in any movies I’ve ever watched. I mean that scene had both visuals and meaning as it demonstrated Peter’s determination as well as resentment with a hitch of unsureness. Rsl acting in that scene was just phenomenal, it’s not about showing off the dancing skills but he portrayed every mixed emotions peter has from his expression and the moves, I just can’t talk about this enough especially this scene was the reason I started fallen for him. lol

Much ado about nothing

Much ado is something I never seen anything like so it was a refreshing exprience. I barely watched Shakespeare on screen kind of thing. Though I felt there were some bits too cheesy for me but they are also the charms in the same time, and the cinematography was pretty also Claudio aka rsl, it was like an official announcement of declaring my worship on this man. Especially it was after SWING KIDSSSS so I couldn’t help it now everyone knows how I fallen for him but no one can blame meeeeee Anyway, it’s a really good film to watch when you want be relaxed with cup of tea maybe hehe

In the gloaming

I heard about it before I watched it, that it’s a heart wrenching, tearful piece, though I didn’t managed to cry, it’s just.... painful and in a way heartfelt. I liked that story telling was calm and collected rather than forcing you to join the sob party, just showing the characters to carry on. And thanks to the great acting from the cast, the characters could be emphasised and understood, personally the older sister was the most relatable character for me, well, eldest complex lol. In short I liked it but it’s not something I would watch it often.

Last days of Disco

As a person who looks at aesthetic in films, I simply enjoyed this for that tbh. I don’t know, I just liked the feeling. But I don’t think it’d be everyone’s cup of tea. I love the day time clothes the girls wore in the film. Tbh I love the music too, I think I love all the films of rsl with music in it. Speaking about rsl, oh rsl, he’s.... His character might be bit unlikable but he was just.... This is why I can’t unlove his characters even the debatable ones<33

They were decent! (I would recommend it)

Married to it

This is the first and last ever attempt of rsl of romcomssss The film itself is cliche to be frank it’s like love actually but it’s about marriage life + it’s not christmas but I like heartfelt cliche stories like this, if anyone also loves this type of story, it’s really worth watching, it’s one of my comfort films, also, rsl is so pretty I mean he always is but to see him being a office man with a baby face made me go awww my baby grew up heheh I wish he did another romcom like this or more preferably, melodramatic romance, I’d have made a shrine of it and worship it every morning lol

The boys next door

I kind of smiled while watching it throughout, if you want something that is heartfelt and touch on some serious topic about social workers and the people with mental disorder, Rsl plays a character who has (I think it was) Schizophrenia and troubled relationship with his father(Deja vu I know) but general atmosphere tend to be quite humourous. I don’t get me wrong, though it’s light hearted, it doesn’t mean they treat the topic in the same way. There’s a scene where the protagonist imagining the one of the characters with the disorder talking eloquently and honourably at the court on the rights and the dignity of the people with mental disorders deserve to/should have and they’re just the same people as the people without mental disorders. It was a powerful scene.

My two loves

Rsl’s first ever screen debut film! Hehe it’s about a woman who is discovering her sexual identity and the conflicts within I personally thought it was fairly sensible depiction but I can’t say for sure whether it was accurate or else, since I don’t think it’s my place to say it:) But if you’re interested, it’s on YouTube, you can just search for it or go to this post I made. Fun fact: since it was his debut film, it credits him as he’s real name, Robert L. Leonard, I just find it amusing haha

Tape

It’s another type of film I don’t encounter that often, I enjoyed it, especially with Neil and Todd’s reunion lol. Rsl mentioned how he enjoyed it because it felt like doing a play, my first impression was that the structure is like a play, though the camera work made me quite dizzy haha. But the dialogues, the acting, I think it was quite spot on. Especially the human contradictions and hypocrisy side of it. The most people assume the baddie in the film is Jon the character rsl played and has a distaste for him. I mean how can anyone love a character who is accused of r*pe but to be honest, Vincent for me seemed just as problematic, both of them are hypocrites for sure in their own different ways but in the end we can’t be sure what’s really the truth or not. It’s about the vagueness, and phychology and the uncertainty from the audience on who to believe(well, myself included, most would trust on Amy’s claims since she’s the victim in the accusation, but by her denying the claims, making everything way unclear,) so I don’t know. I don’t really have an opinion haha tho I don’t believe nothing happened because Amy denied so, even Umma Thurman who played her, said that her interpretation was that Amy lied. I felt it’s endless rabbit hole this film. Sorry I couldn’t worded it better.

My best friend is a Vampire

It’s cringey and weird but there’re odd charm to it. Vampire rsl’s so cute as well.... and I think it’s the only film, he acted kind of flirty ? So for that itself I’d like to appreciate itttt And it’s so 80s/90s, like it has general odd nostalgia like all films from that age has. I saw a Korean blog about rsl films and this was mentioned, that- they said- it’s a bible of rsl’s adorableness and I think that sum up the film perfectly.

Mr&Mrs Bridge

Before this was in ‘I mean it was fine” category, but I watched it again and now I want to retract my statement lol Still isn’t my fav but I noticed how delicately depicted each characters are, Mr and Mrs Bridge in particular. This film is alternatively about the changes in the young generation regarding liberty, feminism, free expression especially on sex. It’s in the perspective of the bridges, the mother and father who is old fashioned and conservative (as it was normal in their previous generation) and the children who are the young generation, and the misunderstanding and conflicts between them. After all it all happened not only because of the difference but also the lack of communication, which rsl emphasised in his interviews. I found it interesting that they made it seems like the Bridges truly existed with the video footage and (with the ending) describing what happened to each family member in text with photos. When I watched it at first I was really confused if it was based on a real life. I think what they wanted to suggest was that the Bridges every typical American family at the time. It was something everyone was going through. I said previously I didn’t get why Rsl’s character (the youngest in the Bridges) treated his mother so coldly. Honestly I do get why, but I guess I felt so bad so the mother haha

I mean it was fine

The safe passage

It was okay but to be honest it didn’t stood out to me. It was okay. The story, the characters weren’t that interesting. I wish they extended it longer to go depth with their family relationship or something.

A painted house

I find it likeable, it has a chill, old folk story vibe, but same as previous one. it didn’t really stand out except for shirtless rsl, do close ups you cowards

Bluffing it

I was really fond of the premise of this film and I think it has great intention. It was specifically made to promote the awareness of illiteracy and how to get support. However, I don’t get the reason of Jack the protagonist’s illiteracy. Unless, it was common occurrence in America at the time, I feel like it’d have been more convincing if he was in poor family hood, so there was no time to learn at school due to working at young age...? I mean, just finding it hard to believe he passed the high school just like that, I mean the teachers or anyone should have noticed it, maybe I’m missing something here but it seemed unlikely to me.

Ground control

Again, I liked the message, as it depicted how frightening and difficult job the ground controller is, by one mistake could take away the lives of hundreds, especially as someone who goes on planes a lot... But it was quite cliche throughout, I just couldn’t get engaged to it. But I do admit at the end when the protagonist runs off to the landing zone see the pilot who he had just saved, they acknowledged each other and have eye contacts was truly wholesome. Rsl as cocky, bad boy was such a icing on the cake, I loved it so much. Chewing gum in every scene lol I hope he plays these sort of characters more often. I saw someone criticising him saying he has narrow spectrum of just playing nice boy roles like Neil but I really wanted to debunk the narrative and this could be one of the examples! 

Chelsea walls

I knew that this has split reviews but nonetheless I think worth to watch it, 1. Ethan and rsl re union, 2. Ethan is the directer of the film and rsl sing in it. But I have to say, it’s one of those hard to follow art indie film so I couldn’t finish it on one go. I feel like I have to devour it over and over again. Maybe later on I grow fond of it more lol But his character, I loved him so much. He’s just has everyone don’t touch me, I’m a cocky artist vibe, there’s a scene where his annoying friend annoying him and he looks up and says: ‘Fck off’. Absolute golddddd not to mention he sings and plays guitar so beautifully<333

Well... it’s not my cup of tea

The Manhattan project

I don’t think the film it self was that bad, it’s about high school boy who find out the existence of some nuclear energy research lab and stole the energy to make his own nuclear bomb. I just don’t get the thinking process of the protagonist. It really frustrated me. He seemed apathetic and unlikable I disliked him throughout and that’s why I didn’t really enjoyed it. I mean it has humour and ridiculous storyline might be humorous to some. But more importantly there was such little screen time for rsl!! LIKE WHY? WHY PEOPLE?? HE LOOKS LIKE A FRESH HUMAN MOCHI!!! It makes me soooo mad to think about it

Killer: Journal of Murder

Well, first of all, it had a lot of graphic things than I imagined, brutally murd*red bodies, execution, and r*pe scene, gosh I was strucken by it when I saw that, I had to skipped that scene. It’s based on a real event and a real criminal called Carl Panzram, so if you’re aware of it, it might be more intriguiging to see. But personally for me... meh, I don’t think directing was good as it failed to portray it enough for me to comprehend fully.

A Glimpse of Hell

This is also based on a true event of a tragic accident in the us battleship in Iowa in 1989. They shows tragedy lin a blunt, brutal way by showing horribly damaged bodies of the soldiers torn into pieces, all the horrid things directly so be warned about that. I was quite alarmed because i didn’t expect to see it haha there’s no much to say. The film quality was so so for me. I feel their approach wasn’t appropriate, they were clearly trying to make it dramatic which is fine but in a melodramatic emotional way. It didn’t work because first, there aren’t enough portrayal of the characters for me to get attached, secondly it added the unnecessary exaggeration it prevented me from being emotionally involved or even to think about it. In my opinion, I think it’d have been better if they made it more restrained, dry, focus on the accuracy. For example like 1987 or Zodiac, I mean both of them has dramatic elements since they’re not a documentary but they were not overdone, in a contrary added emphasis to their message/conclusion. I know it’s easier said than done but it was something I consistently felt during it.

Sir.... I’m sorry but-

Standoff

Haha... it’s very peculiar... the directing is off and it just weird. I knew it was bad already but I watched it because rsl as a cop with gunssssssss just... so rare and just.... something else. There’s no way of me missing that seriously. Tbh him doing an action stunt isn’t what I imagine when it comes to him and there’s really any actions scenes anyway but it really was something. Like the character he played here really became my soft spot Hehehehe he was pretty and plus, tbh it’s kind of film I’d make fun of while watching so everything was (alomst) forgivable. There is a recent thing I think about, since this is about a cult, I kind of hope he’d at some day play a role like Eli Sunday from There will be blood: a manipulative, deceitful and maddened priest with twisted faith. Though Paul Dano did a grand job, the idea was in my head the whole time. Well, it’s a shame he wasn’t any of those here lol

Driven

From what I seen, the majority of people seem to unanimously hate this film, and after watching it I became one of those ppl. At least Standoff could be make fun of and rsl held gunssss but this...... I want to say so many things... I feel like they should have chose either fancy, fast paced, thrilling racing film or detailed depiction of emotions/relationships with the racers and people involved in it, I know both can be done, but I think that was outside of their ability, but since they tried to do that at once, it became a mess that doesn’t go either way. And the characters, any of them, including rsl’s are narrow or impossible to understand. I mean rsl did great himself, it was not about acting, the problem lies on the script and editing in my opinion. Also there were so many unnecessary characters made me question of their existence. Luckily rsl’s character isn’t one of them, however because of them, he had to squeeze in and unable to elaborate, which is a shame as he was an interesting character and someone rsl rarely plays; a arrogant and opportunist agent/brother of the protagonist, who would do anything for success... ha.... whyyyyy

This is it. If I watch other stuff I might add to it in the future. Overall, I know I’m biased but I do like His filmography, I do have appreciations in every one of them in different way to the good ones to bad. He may have disagree, but I love his acting on screen, well, I barely seen him on stage (crying)

Edit: as some of you could see, I’ve edited this over and over again haha elaborating on thing or the contrary. I can say with a glimpse of hell I practically managed to watch every rsl films out there lol except for the i inside and the short film he did called a dog race in Alaska. But with the former I’m not interested and already know the storyline, and the latter is just impossible to find, trust me I did my best;; 

So to sum up: I HAVE MASTERED THE RSL FILMOGRAPHY!

[ladyloptr]

•Part-Time•

Request: twt@LUSTFORLOKI. To sum up this one, Reader is a college student who took a part-time job in the Avengers tower as a sort of housekeeper/maid/butler. Steve, for all of his self-righteousness, doesn’t know how to treat a housekeeper/maid properly in the 21st century. Thankfully, Loki shows up, and as usual, has a plan for everything. (I’m such a Steve-anti. Poor Steve.)Lots of angst, some fluff.

Fandom: MCU AU

Pairing: Loki x College!Reader.

Warnings: Angst, Abuse, Violence. OOC Steve, Major Steve bashing, so any Steve-stans, please look away.

{————}

You need this job.

That’s the only reason why you’re here, and why you tolerate some of the insanity that you’re forced to endure.

You saw the advertisement on the internet, it was hard to miss. Big, bright and attention grabbing, just like your employer, Tony Stark. He was looking for a butler basically, but also sort of a housekeeper. Someone to help keep the tower in order, but also to help the Avengers if they ever needed anything.

Surprisingly, for all of his melodrama, egotism and childishness, Tony Stark is a great boss, and his wife, Pepper, is an even better boss. They’re both always pleasant to you, they pay you well, they pay you on time, they’re never rude (despite Tony’s jokes sometimes being a little-uncalled for), and they never really ask much from you.

Sure, your job is to help keep the 90-something tower “in order”, but you, interestingly enough, don’t do much cleaning. As Tony once said “I have people I pay to do all of that.” Your job is mostly centered on making sure that Tony’s physical files are organized, that the training room has all of the practice weapons properly locked up, and to make sure that the kitchen and main lounge/living room isn’t a hot-mess-express.

So, the only thing you really ever have to clean up is the kitchen, and on occasion, the living room. The Avengers don’t typically leave behind much of a mess.

Really, the insanity isn’t Tony, or Pepper, or cleaning, or the pay, it’s helping the Avengers when they “need something”.

Oh-correction. The insanity is helping Steve Rogers when he “needs something”.

The Avengers are all grown ass adult superheroes (minus Peter), and you’re a college student taking a part-time job so that you can take care of yourself. Most of them find it uncomfortable to ask you to do meager things for them, so they mostly ignore you, and do things for themselves like functional members of society.

Except for Steve Rogers.

You are unsure of what you did, but the moment you started working here, he’s been nothing but cold and mean to you. He asks you to bring him a drink, to bring him a snack, to bring him a napkin, to bring him his breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s gotten ridiculous. He’ll even ask you to make sure his bedroom is neat after he wakes up, and to make sure his bathroom is cleaned every few days.

This is behavior you expected from the Asgardian princes, Thor and Loki, but definitely not from Captain fucking America.

Then again, as Captain America, perhaps his behavior rightfully represents what a lot of Americans are; entitled.

(I’m American also, lol, no hate plz.)

He’s nothing like what he was supposed to be. On camera he was gentlemanly, kindhearted and appreciative. It was a shock to you when you found that Loki, of all the people in the tower, acts more like Captain America, than Captain America.

Which was truly bewildering to you at first. Just think about it for a moment...

The guy who tried to take over the whole world and enslave mankind is the one who greets you with a smile everyday, and offers to make you tea on Saturday and Sunday mornings (which are the only mornings you can work-you got those 7am college classes, RIP). He even helps you with your studies, homework and college essays if you find yourself falling behind. It took some time to get used to his kind gestures, which sometimes bewildered even Thor at times.

While Loki got familiar with you, your relationship with Steve Rogers, on the other hand, ended up only getting worse.

It turned abusive, sometimes violent, and the only reason you never went to Tony is because you know that the two are close friends and coworkers. You could go to the other Avengers, but you’re sure that their relationship to Steve is similar, as well.

Bucky Barnes is another person you know is close with Steve. Those two go way back-before you were even born.

One day, you were careless in leaving your house. It was a Saturday morning, you were tired and you hadn’t noticed that both of your arms had begun to bruise from Steve’s super soldier strength.

He had hit you a few times in anger yesterday. You can’t really recall why.

“What are those on your arms?” Loki asks, within seconds of seeing you. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“I’m The God of Lies, my dear, you’ll have to do better than that.” Loki says, looking over your arms, carefully. “Is someone harming you?”

“No. I fell.”

“Try again.” Loki challenges, looking up at you sternly.

“I’m fine.”

“Who is harming you?” He asks, narrowing his eyes. “Is it someone in here?”

“Loki...”

“Is it an Avenger?”

Loki catches the subtle change in your eyes, the spark of fear that lit up when he asked whether or not it was an Avenger.

He growls. “Who is it?”

“Loki, please, I don’t want to talk about it.” You plead, getting rather uncomfortable now. “Can we just... play chess or something?”

Loki frowns at you for a while, before sighing in defeat. “Fine, alright.”

He doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the day.

You make sure to wear long sleeves to cover the bruises on your arms for the next couple of days, at least until the bruising goes down.

“What did I tell you about leaving my bedroom a mess?” Steve demands. “It’s a simple request. I’m not asking you to teach a dog to sing.”

Steve has decided to now confront you in an empty hallway about not tidying up his room yesterday.

“I’m sorry...” You mutter. “...Tony wanted me with him all day yesterday.”

“You couldn’t have come do it before you left? You just went home knowing my bedroom is a mess?” Steve asks, quickly getting upset.

“Tony clocked me out himself, so I was already off shift. Besides, it’s not like you can’t clean your bedroom yourself.” You answer.

Wrong answer, apparently.

He grabbed your arm and held it in a bruising grip, once again reminding you that he’s no ordinary human.

You let out a whimper and try to pull away, which proves no use. You’re not surprised when he slaps you. You’re surprised by how a super soldier serum can make a simple slap so painful. You’re even more surprised when your nose starts bleeding.

He must’ve inadvertently popped a blood vessel or something.

He raises his hand again, and you close your eyes, prepared for a punch or something worse, but it never comes. You open your eyes and see Steve looking at something behind you. You turn around and see Loki standing at the other end of the hall, his hands behind his back, an indifferent look on his face, but his eyes tell a different story.

You’ve known Loki long enough to realize that if you want to know his true emotions, you read his eyes, not his face. He’s a master at using his face to guard his true feelings.

And his eyes currently hold a barely contained storm of rage inside of them.

“I apologize for... interrupting...” Loki barely managed to keep his voice steady. “But dinner is ready, and I was wondering if (Y/N) would be joining us tonight.”

You nod, frantically. Steve releases your arm, and you rush over to Loki’s side.

“Loki Laufeyson, master of perfect timing, always ready to save the day.”

“Actually.” Loki corrects. “It’s Loki Odinson, master of sorcery, always ready to put ignorant Midgardians in their place.” He smiles a very unpleasant smile. “But yes... I suppose you’re also somewhat correct.”

“No one will believe you.” Steve says.

“Perhaps you’re correct.” Loki drones. “I am not here to hold a conversation with you, however, I am here to take (Y/N) to dinner.”

Steve snorts derisively, and walks by Loki, intentionally bumping shoulders with him.

Well, Steve was bumped, Loki didn’t move even a centimeter.

“Might want to clean her up first.” Steve says, as he retreats. “Wouldn’t want everyone to think you were beating up on her before dinner.”

Loki clenches his jaw. You look away, nervous about what he’s going to say.

You’re startled when he tilts your face up by your chin, and then slowly uses his seidr to heal any damage Steve has dealt you, including the bruises on your arms. He checks you over multiple times, making sure you aren’t still hurt.

Once he’s finished, he takes both of your hands and makes eye contact with you. He’s still upset, but the anger has tapered down to a manageable level.

“How did you know he was hurting me just now?” You ask, in a hushed tone.

“The same day I inquired about your bruises, I forged a... connection of sorts.” Loki explains. “Today, I felt that you were in danger, so I went looking for you. I have a similar connection with Thor, otherwise that oaf would’ve perished long ago.”

You nod, it makes sense, somewhat. You blush as he kisses your cheek and then your forehead.

“I am sorry.” Loki squeezes your hands, gently. “I wish I had noticed earlier. I would’ve killed him in that moment, would it not result in me being casted back to Asgard. The last thing I want, is for you to be left here to deal with all of this on your own.”

“Well... there’s nothing we can do about it now...” You murmur.

“I believe that to be untrue...” Loki’s eyes slowly shift up to the security cameras. “...Rogers appears to have forgotten about the many eyes this tower has.”

Your eyes widen. “The security cameras...!”

Loki smirks. “Stark will review the footage if you ask him to. I could accompany you to his lab tonight after dinner, if you so wish.”

“Yes, I’d love that.” You wrap your arms around Loki as tight as you possibly can. “Thank you!”

“You’re most certainly welcome.” Loki chuckles. “Time to cook up a scandal...”

A/N: SORRY STEVE STANS, I TAKE ALL REQUESTS, NO REQUESTS LEFT BEHIND.

Also, I wrote this while struggling with depression (it’s been two weeks, and it seems to not be improving, and this crap can last as long as a couple of months, so I wrote it anyway. Better than waiting a few months to finally get on this), and I’m not sure if y’all have noticed, but my storytelling feels weird in this one. My ability to produce a thorough, flowing storyline appears to be sort of hindered right now. I’ll try to update it if I can.

[lizacstuff]

Sen Çal Kapımı episode 47 asks

Below the read more find asks and answers about episode 47, the fragman for 48 and other miscellaneous things.

(UNDER THE CUT)

Anonymous asked: Hi! I hope you are enjoying your vacation. I remember you mentioned you would be traveling. What were your thoughts on the epi? I think this was one episode where everything was happy! No big problems. The truth about Kemal being Serkan's dad could have been dramatic but Ayse and team wrote it like a romcom. I'm not really feeling the Deniz being the saviour of Artlife like they are portraying in the fragmans but I'll wait for the next epi to make a judgement.

Thank you. Once again, I though the whole episode was a really easy watch and I enjoyed every minute.  

I really appreciate the tone this season, even something as series as Serkan’s parentage is played lightly, as you say very much rom com, and not full of heavy melodrama (as it would have been if explored during the 30s). This is exactly the tone and feel of this show that I want.  

Serkan’s reaction was predictable, but it was also clear that he just needed time to adjust and settle down and he’ll come around. I like that. 

I don’t have time this week to do full episode thoughts, but I enjoyed Serkan and Eda’s morning after conversation. Hilarious that he’d removed all the sharp objects from the room. Loved that after all of Eda’s fear-fueled reticence, once she decided to take the plunge with him, she was all in. Eda admitting that she’d been unbalanced and had been at fault for hiding Kiraz,--and acknowledging that Serkan had been fighting for them and now she wanted to as well-- was very nice. After running a bit hot and cold, Serkan deserved to hear that.  

lolo-deli asked: Hard to believe we didn't get a reconciliation scene in 47... Nobody expected sex but we couldn't even get a hug or kiss when they made up? "I want to see that tattoo" was not the romantic reunion I was hoping for. Were you at all disappointed?

IMO, we did see the important part of the reconciliation, and that was the conversation. Sure, I think we should have seen Serkan and Eda kiss in the last episode. If I were in charge we would have, but I don’t think the story actually loses anything because it’s not a mystery what happened.   

Clearly, he says the tattoo line and they jump each other, make their way to the bedroom, have sex, but don’t really communicate until the morning when she wakes up, and that’s where the show picks up and we get to see those first important moments. 

If you’re looking for romance, then I would point to everything that led up to that tattoo line in 46. That entire episode (and the one before it) was their romantic reconciliation. Moments alone where he takes in her scent and whispers how much he’s missed her, waking up in bed together when they just automatically gravitate to one another, the moments of pretending to be married that were very comedic, but also very soft and romantic (What’s your greatest passion, what’s the first line you ever said to one another), the heartfelt conversation on the bench, the actual tattoo conversation at dinner. That’s the romantic reunion. Yes, if they had just reunited after years (like in episode 40) right before the tattoo line, I  would have needed more romance, but we’ve had 7 episodes of them working their way back to one another. Everything was primed, all they needed was to light the match.  IMO that line did the trick. 

So, am I disappointed? No. I’m happy to go with the flow and enjoy every minute of what they do give us in these last few episodes. I choose not to get tied up in what I wish would happen vs what actually happens. I find I don’t enjoy any show when I put the onus on the show to conform to my wishes. 

Some might be disappointed, that’s their choice, (and make no mistake, it is a choice) but that’s not how I’m approaching this second season which is serving up so much romance, comedy, and domestic family goodness. I suffered through the 30s so I could get to this, I’m not going to waste any of it being disappointed.

Anonymous asked: Idk why this proposal was the most emotional out of them all for me. Perhaps with the other ones I just KNEW the other shoe had to drop because they couldn't let them get happily married this early and this time I knew it was finally it. Or maybe it was the fact that knowing they're married means the show really is ending soon, but I was a blubbering mess lol. Sure there's drama ahead, but it's definitely not a plane crash and memory loss or a "fake" Selin pregnancy!

Yes! Thank goodness we don’t have any of that nonsense waiting for us.  They are really going to be married. 

I enjoyed this proposal very much, it was so sweet the way he planned everything out and had everyone helping, while Eda (and even sort of the audience) was in the dark about what was really going on there.  

For me, as far as the words spoken, nothing really tops his speech to her in 27, but the great thing is that we get them all and this was special in it’s own right because he really surprised her and swept her off her feet this time around.  I loved it!

Anonymous asked: So I am confused about Serkan’s ability to have kids- it’s not a problem now? If him being infertile was only temporary, why did he say it was impossible to have kids and it was a part of why he left Eda in the first place so she could have it somewhere else? They could’ve just waited a couple years to have kids then...? I know he also left her cause he was scared of dying but they really made his reaction seem like he’d NEVER be able to have kids

My assumption is that since they were able to have Kiraz, they know it’s possible, so even if it won’t be easy (and fertility is usually not a hard yes/ no line... mostly it’s a measure of how likely it is) they are choosing to believe they will be able to conceive again.  

If you’re looking to change what his assumptions were when they first broke up and he thought he was unable to have kids (and that there was a 70% chance the cancer would come back) and deciding he should have made different decisions based on the fact that he was able to father Kiraz... to be blunt you’re looking at it the wrong way. 

At that time, he thought he would never be able to have kids. Full stop.  The fact that wasn’t necessarily true doesn’t change what he believed at the time. 

Anonymous asked: serkan being the overly protective, worrying, affectionate baba is EXACTLY what i imagined, as i'm sure everyone else did. who else would worry about the pH balance of the soap at their daughter's preschool?! serkan thinking his angel can do no wrong.. of course it was all can's plan to hide them in the bathroom lmao. i hope, and with how this season is going i think we'll get it, we get to see this serkan in action when eda is pregnant too.. even if we just see a couple minutes of it!

YES! I loved overly protective Serkan. Thankfully, for Kiraz’s sake he has Eda (who might be a bit too far the other way) to balance him out.   I agree that it was hilarious how he was trying to blame sweet Can.  Even without seeing what happened, I’m pretty sure anyone else who had spent two minutes with those kids would figure out who the instigator was.  When rabble rousing is going on, I think it’s fair to point to the offspring of Serkan Bolat and Eda Yildiz as the cause, lmao.

It would be great it we got to see glimpses of Serkan as an expectant father and also the father of a newborn.  I would love that.

Anonymous asked: I see that the "Nitpick of the Week" as I'm calling it, this week is where Serkan proposed. Because Serkan Bolat would neeeeever propose in a "parking lot" .. am I the only one seeing that it's not even a parking lot, it's a road. Like if it is a parking lot where are the other cars then lol?! Putting aside that he's proposing outside their literal wedding venue, their entire story started in a parking lot. He told her he loved her for the first time on the side of a road. I'm not understanding.

You make great points!  Their love story did start in a parking lot AND he was trying to pull off both a surprise proposal and a surprise wedding in one day’s notice. Since we’ve already seen a proposal on a plane, a proposal at a piano bar and a proposal at their place of work, I don’t really have the energy to join the discontented masses on twitter and nitpick the location of this proposal. He could have proposed in front of a landfill and I would have been delighted. 

Anonymous asked: I'm sorry if you don't find it as funny, but people's reaction to this new fragman is so exaggerated like they're about to witness Indecent Proposal dizi-edition that I literally couldn't help but find it hilarious. Like no where is it ever implied that Deniz is offering Serkan SEX, but when Eda says "just do what you have to" somehow that's the first thing everyone thought of?! Not to mention we know this is Deniz's last ep.. the dramatic reactions really have me dying lmao.

OMG! I know. So this is a show that doesn’t show sex, Serkan didn’t sleep with the woman he thought was his girlfriend during amnesia, Serkan and Eda were both celibate for 5 years, but suddenly they’re gonna have newly-married Serkan go to the edge width Deniz?!?!?!  Those people on twitter lost their damn minds.  

On Saturday, I was on vacation and had just popped in to see if the new fragman was released, I was happy to nope right out of there when I saw the insanely melodramatic overreaction to the fragman. 

It’s obvious that since the biggest issue between Eda and Serkan is Eda’s fear that Serkan will always prioritize work over her, as he did on their first wedding day, this story is to show that Serkan will 100% choose Eda over work and Art Life.  Also I’m sure the episode will have the same tone as the rest of the season, which is light and comedic.  

Anonymous asked: sometimes I go back to episode 28 and still can't believe they got that bathtub + shower scene in there with the rtuk guidelines. I've watched a couple more romcoms since starting SCK and have never seen anything close to that. I know they got fined afterwards but they were really like "screw it, we're going it for anyway" 😂

It’s interesting that the production company and network went for it there. But as you say they did get fined, so they didn’t get away with anything.  

[portokali]

melocrows (melodrama for the crows)

green light - nina!!! did it frighten you? how we kissed when we danced on the light-up floor

sober - but what will we do when we’re sober? / ain’t no pill that can touch our rush - all very jesper, a song all about chasing a high and drowning away your troubles/using pleasure for escapism, while constantly anxious of inevitably having to face reality.

homemade dynamite: jesper/wylan anthem. don’t know you super well but i think that you might be the same as me / behave abnormally and they are, of course, blowin’ shit up with homemade dynamite.

the louvre - kanej anthem, giving half of my wardrobe is on your bedroom floor a different meaning - they’re not fucking, it’s kaz casually undressing & washing up in front of inej (all part of his flirting technique all part of the plan). i am your sweetheart, psychopathic crush is kaz pov / but lover you’re the one to blame, all that you do, can you hear the violence? is inej pov.

liability - you were little much for me / you were liability is very much Sad Wylan Hours, whether because of his father or even the crows roasting him early in the first book.

hard feelings - predictably another kanej anthem. please could you be tender? and i will sit close to you is inej @ kaz i’m at [ketterdam] city, it’s late and this song is for you is kaz @ inej. the entirety of the song? kanej 2nd act breakup (it actually plays everytime they get pissed at each other and inej walks away bc theyre dramatic like that)

it was real for me, yeah, real for me, now i’ll fake it every single day til i don’t need fantasy - also very nina/matthias post-betrayal

loveless  - all of them as they are all the l o v e l e s s generation (of the barrel).  but it’s specficially giving nina and jesper cause they’re the ones to go well guess what? i like that so although the general sentiment of lovelessness applies to all the crows, nina and jesper are the narrators of the song because they’re aware of it (as Designated Team Flirts)

sober ii (melodrama) - Everyone anthem, as after all it is the title track. ish.

clearly a much more somber jesper pov from sober (all the gun fights, and the lime lights / god i wonder why we bother) - but the fact that the tone is much more reflective this time around gives the song a wylan voice (something about lights are on and they’ve gone home / oh how fast the evening passes, cleaning up the champagne glasses and wylan alone/lonely in his family mansion)

the existential/religious undertones of this steer to an inej pov: the holy sick divine lights is her struggling to reconcile her actions with her faith as well as her being an outsider to the main religion in ketterdam, and no you won’t remember in the morning when i speak my mind is very inej pov kanej early in soc.

at its heart, though, the song is undeniably soc-era nina/matthias: they’ll talk about us, all the lovers, how we kissed and killed each other, and then finishes off with one of the most -if not the most- kaz lyrics, which is, of course, we told you this was melodrama / you wanted something that we offered

writer in the dark - 1st verse is kaz pov of the kanej breakup (sorry i was never good like you)

the chorus doesn’t really fit them as they never kiss, but it works beautifully for wylan after jesper kisses kuwei (bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark - kuwei isn’t exactly a writer but everyone literate is a writer to wylan).

but in our darkest hours i stumbled on a secret power, i’ll find a way to be without, babe - nina in the second half of ck. edit cause apparently this post wasn’t already long enough: so is i still feel you now and then, slow like pseudoeuphedrine [*parem]

i’ll love you til my breathing stops / i’ll love you til you call the cops on me is everyone @ everyone.

supercut - matthias and nina about their relationship pre-soc. mostly matthias pov, but make you crazy over my touch is all nina

liability (reprise) - as liability is a wylan song, liability (reprise) is a jesper song, especially after falling out with kaz and progressively getting over him while still caring for him. all of the dreams that get harder / all of the things that i offer you / but you’re not what you thought you were. 

perfect places - kaz!!! are you lost enough? have another drink, get lost in us, this is how we get notorious / all of the things we’re taking, cause we are young and we’re ashamed / all of our heroes fading / what the fuck are perfect places, anyway?

[steepgan]

t. oikawa - the balcony

in which you befriend your neighbor during quarantine. gn reader.

To put it briefly, your neighbor across from you will not be quiet.

Everyone is cooped up in their respective apartments due to a pandemic, and this guy decides to have a party every goddamn day. You can hear his music when you’re in the shower, and sometimes you don’t want to listen to Firework by Katy Perry. Sometimes you want to listen to One Direction.

Your apartment is situated oddly. The neighbor you speak of is not across the hall from you (if he was, you might have already filed a complaint). Instead, your apartment is given a balcony that directly faces the neighbor in question’s balcony.

Below the balconies is a small street that has passerbyers and chatting people that are looking for a shortcut. You get the occasional street cat that yowls in the trash cans at night and fights with raccoons. They are far more pleasant company than your neighbor.

In other words, the loud neighbor lives in a different apartment complex from you.

Every day is a new horror. Once, there was nonstop playing of Lorde’s Melodrama album (to which you were so concerned to the point of finding your neighbor a therapist), and the next day, there were strange trumpet noises (where did this guy find a trumpet during Covid?)

After the third week of the neighbor’s incessant noise, you take it upon yourself to ask your neighbors if they, too, are perturbed by the loudness. To this day, they do not mind the noise.

You’ll get used to it, they say. We’re neighbors. Sometimes we make noises, too, [L/N].

The noises are seemingly getting louder and louder. You swear you hear a chainsaw at some point. Not even your poor headphones can cancel out the sound. You wonder how your neighbors are faring with this sort of noise. 

You hope that they are annoyed as you are this time. If they are, you can laugh at their face and ask who is getting used to the noise now. However, you suck up all your annoyance and pretend that you don’t mind the noise.

Then one day, you snap.

You open your balcony doors and march to the railing that is only a few feet away from your noisy neighbor’s balcony. You clear your throat and try to yell. 

“Dude!” you shout. “Hello? Mind turning it down a bit?”

There is no response.

“Hey, man!” you persist. “Turn it down! No one wants to listen to the Backstreet Boys at 6 A.M. in the morning!”

The neighbor who lives beside you opens his balcony door. He sleepily pokes his head through and says, “I, actually, find it quite ni—”

“Go back to bed, Jorge,” you snap. “No one cares.”

Jorge retreats back into his apartment.

Grumbling, you go into your apartment as well. If shouting will not catch the neighbor’s attention, you need to find something tangible. You need something that will physically grab your neighbor’s stupid attention away from the Backstreet Boys.

You pick up the nearest object that you could find and return to your balcony. Without further ado, you throw it over. You aim at your neighbor’s balcony window, hoping to alert the neighbor without completely shattering his apartment and getting sued.

As luck would have it, the infamous neighbor himself opens the balcony door just then. He is rubbing the back of his neck with his lazy brown locks of hair falling here and there, perfectly framing his face.

Unfortunately, you do not manage to get a good look at his actual feature, as the object you chose to throw at him hits him smack in the face. He is taken aback by the sudden force and staggers before falling backward.

You wince.

He groans.

You let out a meek voice. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

The man stands back up, and you flinch as if he rises from the dead. He holds the object in hand and stares at you. He seems a little groggy (rightfully so) as he asks, “did you just throw a purse at me?”

He speaks the truth. You chose to throw a purse at him.

Your neighbor looks more put together than you thought. He maintains a broad, athletic frame and stands at a decent height enough to impress. He leans against his balcony door, and the rising sun peeks over the apartment buildings, shining generously on his face.

The rays illuminated his cheekbones and rich, brown eyes. He tilts his head, his skin pulled smooth over his jaw down to his collarbone. He looks otherworldly. Ethereal, even. It must be golden hour, you quickly convince yourself. It’s just the golden hour.

“It was empty,” you say, not helping your case. You scramble closer to the railing. “Sorry! Super sorry. I just needed to get your attention.”

“You most certainly got it,” the neighbor says, amused. You hope he is not too annoyed. Most of your pent-up annoyance is melted away because you threw a bag at him. “Do you want this back or—”

“Of course I want it back,” you say. “I was just wondering if you could turn down the music a bit. You play it all the time, and it’s disturbing me.”

The neighbor gives you a blank stare. It’s as if he’s never been asked this before. He sheepishly admits, “I’ve never been asked this before.”

Bingo.

“Oh, well, do you mind being a little considerate?” you ask. “And give my bag back?”

“Sorry,” the neighbor says. “I’ll be sure to turn the volume down.”

He does not intend to throw the bag over the balcony as you foolishly did. Instead, he reaches out with the bag in his hand. Your bag dangles over the street, precariously close to falling down.

You stretch over the railing. Your fingers briefly brush your neighbor’s. Warmth crawls up your cheeks, but you blame it on the fact that you’ve kept human contact to a minimum ever since quarantine started.

He gives you the bag, and you hold it in your arms. You are tempted to crack a joke about Covid and ask if he washes his hands regularly, but your neighbor seems like the type of man who knows how to take care of himself properly.

“Say, do you have a party or something every day?” you ask. “You play it so loud, so I’m just wondering if you hold small kickbacks.”

“Every day?” the man goes. He shakes his head and laughs while crossing his arms. “Nah. I try to follow Covid procedures as well as I can. Oh, but, umm, I do have the occasional party to myself.”

“You throw parties by yourself?”

“Why do you look and sound so disappointed?”

True to his word, the neighbor keeps his music down for you to concentrate. You are extremely grateful, as you can now listen to your own television and study for your online classes.

Although you hear the faint drumming beat of music sometimes, you decide that it was far worse last time he blasted his music all over the place so you let it slide. There are a few neighbors who pass you in the hall and thank you as well. 

Unable to rest one night, you walk out onto your balcony for some fresh air. After this, you will finally go to bed at 4 A.M. in the morning. In the dim light of the lanterns, you can see a silhouette of a person on your neighbor’s balcony.

Oh, if it isn’t your good neighbor!

(Well, who else would be on your neighbor’s balcony?)

He is on his phone while leaning on the railing. The bright screen reflects on his face, showing his concentration. His athletic build is slightly hunched over his phone as he hums leisurely, scrolling innocently.

“So,” you say, “do you usually stay up until 4 A.M.?”

The man, slightly startled, looks up from his phone and sees you. He cracks a grin that’s more brilliant than the fact that his house plants are still alive despite you never seeing him water them. 

“Well, hello, there,” the neighbor says. “I actually get up at 4 A.M.”

You still. “You what.”

“I get up at 4 A.M.”

“No, I don’t think I heard you right. Mind repeating it again?”

“I get up at 4 A.M.,” the man repeats, and although he has said it three times already, your mind cannot process it. While you’re going to bed at 4 A.M., this guy was waking up at 4 A.M. How insane! “I’m an athlete, so I wake up and use an elliptical. Feeling sluggish isn’t good for me.”

It was then you catch his name: Toru Oikawa of Club Athletico San Juan. You can’t bother to be gobsmacked as you do not catch up with sports news, but you keep in touch with old friends who are still involved in sports. You believe that they’ve mentioned the San Juan club a few times.

“Jesus Christ,” you say.

“No, not Jesus,” Oikawa pipes up, “although I’ve been told about the similarities.”

“I’m [F/N] [L/N],” you offer. “It’s very nice to meet you, Toru Oikawa.”

“Likewise,” he says, “unless you're throwing a purse at me.”

“Again, I’m super sorry—”

You and he talk for some time about anything that comes to mind. You ask him to show you a few of his volleyball videos, as you want to see how he plays. You assume that because of social distancing, he’s been unable to practice.

He obtains your phone number and sends you a few videos with a snarky little comment at the bottom, which you choose to ignore. You watch his videos, and you realize that this Oikawa guy is actually really good.

It seems your friendship with him is on feebly, baby-doe legs. There are days where you do not talk to him at all, as you are more of a night owl and Oikawa is the physical embodiment of carpe diem. There are some days where you and he do not let a single hour slip by without texting each other (you must admit that Oikawa is very entertaining).

Your neighbors tease you, constantly reminding you of your previous hatred for Oikawa (back when you did not know what his name was). You tell them that it was perfectly sensible to be mad, especially since he had been so loud, but they wave you off with a smirk of their faces you’d gladly wipe off. You can tell that they think you like Toru Oikawa.

You tell them that the day Oikawa calls you enchanting and thinks of you as a goddess is the day you might consider him as something more than a neighbor friend.

A month and a half flies by, and you are dawdling on your balcony with Oikawa. He is sitting with his legs swinging back and forth through the rails of the railing. His volleyball hands grip the top of the railing as he chats with you aimlessly, the same smile that he typically wears is upon his face.

“You must have a lot of experience,” you note, watching Oikawa’s videos on your phone. “It’s super impressive.”

Oikawa laughs. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” you say incredulously. “I was watching one of your old high school videos, and I compared it to one of your more recent ones. Your growth is to die for. I super admire your skills, Toru.”

“My skills?”

I wish I could say more, you think. You believe your words are not enough to describe how you feel. Nothing is able to amount to the pride you feel towards your newfound friend, and it aches to keep your words to yourself. You can tell that he has suffered, and you can tell that he is suffering even now. You smile thinking about how far he has come, how far he has gone to be standing across from you with such a moonlit smile on his face.

You know how he fights, and you are so proud.

Of course, there is no non-cheesy way to say this, so you hope that Oikawa can read your eyes well enough. You hope that Oikawa knows that you are being more genuine now than ever, and you hope that he does not mistake your authenticity for pity.

“I think you are very great,” you say to him truthfully. 

Oikawa’s voice is shaky. “Thank you.”

It feels as if years are going by with you locked in your apartment. Oikawa becomes an integral part in your life and in your everyday habits. You text him nearly every day and find yourself rising early in the morning just to talk to him for a few minutes before collapsing back on your bed.

Your neighbors suggest that you and he have a forbidden lovers thing going on. You ask them where they got that from. They bring up the fact that you and he are from different apartment complexes that just-so-happen to be facing each other.

If your neighbors want their own drama, they might as well try throwing a purse at their neighbor’s window and hope the neighbors are as amicable and handsome as Toru Oikawa. You struck gold with him.

He is easy to get along with. He tells you a lot of stories in the middle of the night and whenever he can. Every experience he tells you about seems to be linked with another experience, which is linked to another and then another. The conversations are flowing out of him, and sometimes, the most you can do is keep giving him positive affirmations so he will keep talking to you.

You like it when he talks to you.

“No phone, Toru?” you note, seeing his empty hands. Oikawa usually has his phone when he talks to you on the balcony. It is strange to see him without it, but Oikawa is a strange guy, you figure. He’s a total dork.

Oikawa is in love with a sport. 

You have many athlete friends. Ordinarily, they complain about waking up early and never getting enough sleep—especially when balancing it with schoolwork. They enjoy their sport to a degree, but it pales in comparison to what Oikawa feels toward volleyball. 

To Oikawa, and to people like Oikawa, volleyball is a practice. They turn volleyball into a habit. It becomes a habit that they care for the sport, and most importantly, it becomes a habit that they, in turn, take care of themselves.

“Too much blue light,” Oikawa says, shaking his head. “I’m cutting down my phone time. It’ll be better for my eyes, too. You ought to do the same.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you joke. “I have to look at screens all day, even if my eyesight deteriorates in the long run.”

“What will you do if you end up blind?” Oikawa leans on the railing. It’s as if he is trying to get close to you. However, the distance between the balconies is six feet apart. Whether you and Oikawa like it or not, you and he are following safety procedures. “You won’t be able to look for aliens with me.”

You laugh. “I don’t believe in aliens.”

“Well, they don’t believe in you, either.”

You make a sad face.

Oikawa is taken aback. He starts speaking quickly. “They don’t have to believe in you. It’s their loss. I’ll believe in you instead. You don’t need the approval of aliens, and you don’t need their opinions. They’re not even on Earth! The Earth is grand enough with you on it, [F/N]. As long as one person—me, or yourself, even!—believes in you, you’ll achieve greater things than aliens.”

It is then you smile. Oikawa is so silly, you think to yourself. You doubt there is anything else in the world that can replicate the neighbor across from you. He is truly one of a kind. “Thanks, Toru. You’re such a loser.”

“Hey,” he says, “love me or hate me. Don’t do both. Make it make sense.”

With Oikawa cutting back his screen time, you do not receive as many volleyball videos or texts from him. You miss his texts, of course, but this only spurs you to catch him in the mornings or in the late evenings when he gets back from practice. Your whole sleep schedule now revolves around the man. He is your friend, after all.

You slightly envy the man, as he seems dead set on becoming better than the person he was yesterday. However, you and he carry different morals. You do not mind not knowing what to do at all; you live from one day to the next, happily taking whatever life gives you. You are content not knowing what the future holds because you know that it is scary, but nothing is fun without being scary.

You do not need to follow Oikawa’s beliefs. Everyone raises themselves differently than the next person, and that does not make them any less productive. As each experience goes by, people take a different lesson from it, learning and learning and learning. That is human thought.

Of course, you learn a thing or two from Oikawa. You learn that there is always someone better, and that should only move you forward. You come to realize that if life does not lead you along, life will drag you, and you are far too pretty to be dragged.

With this in mind, you finish your project in time.

More weeks fly by, and Oikawa greets you as you walk out on your balcony. He is dressed in his practice clothes, and you are dressed in pajamas. You wrap your coat around yourself tighter, as the colder seasons are approaching and you aren’t so keen on freezing to death.

Oikawa’s brown hair feathers the tips of his reddened ears and touches the nape of his neck. He gives you a small wave, and you groggily wave back in response. It is far too early to meet Oikawa, but it seems you and he have an unspoken meeting time at 4 A.M. You have set many alarms for this man, and you hope he appreciates your efforts.

He holds something in his hands. You ask him what it is for, and he calls it a phone. It is not a phone. It is two cups, and they are held together by string. Oikawa tells you that one of the cups belongs to him and the other you. He stretches over the balcony, and you do so as well.

Your fingers barely whisper over his as you grab the cup from him. Oikawa quickly pulls away, nearly making you drop the cup. You swear you felt as if you were on the verge of a heart attack. You angrily curse out Oikawa for scaring you like that, and he only laughs in return.

That is the second time you’ve touched Toru Oikawa.

What a douche.

“Let’s test out the phone,” Oikawa says, putting his mouth to the cup.

You settle your ear to the cup, awaiting Oikawa’s message to you from your balcony. You wait, you wait, and you wait. Your ear is warm with anticipation, and just as you are about to tear your ear away from the cup to yell at Oikawa for joking with you, you hear something.

It is soft and quiet. If not for the stillness of the morning, you would not have been able to hear it. The voice is very faint, and the voice is very, very him. 

“[F/N],” he says. He says your name like a prayer, like something he has kept lodged in his throat. He says it with apprehensiveness and doubt, as if he isn’t sure that it will reach you, as if he isn’t sure that it’ll work—but it does. But it does. 

You smile, and you hold the cup to your mouth. 

“Toru,” you say. You say his name again. “Toru.”

You flit your eyes up to see Oikawa, to see what he thinks of your personal message. In the dim light of the lanterns that hang on his apartment, you see that Oikawa is blushing. The red of his ears has spread across his cheeks. 

He realizes that you are looking at him, and he turns his cheek to the side—a poor attempt of hiding. It is really impossible to keep his expressions from you, as it is only him and you outside. Even your neighbors recognize that there is an hour designated for you and Oikawa.

You put the cup down. Excited, you ask him, “did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he says, regaining his composure. “Your breath stinks—”

You then throw the cup at his head. Oikawa falls back.

It is every day that you and he speak through the string-cup-phone-thing. You and he speak through it in the mornings when he wants to tell you a secret about his coworkers. Oikawa tells you that he has returned to work, as his team mates (including himself) have tested negative for Covid. You are entertained by his stories.

Oikawa has some of your habits, you realize. He must have picked them up from you during the duration of your friendship with him. When he eats candy, he saves his favorite color for last and eats his least favorite first. When he speaks, he crosses his arms—a habit that you have only because of your easy annoyance. He takes some of your jokes as well and repeats them to his coworkers (and you only know this because he tells you; at least he gives his credit to you).

He finds satisfaction in the littlest of things now. He will bring up how pretty the lights in the street below are, and when you are slightly pissed at anything, he will tell you how those aforementioned lights are nothing compared to you. He likes the smell of the bakery down the street, and he promises that he’ll take you there one day because it’s his favorite.

When he tells you a joke, he looks at your face to see if you are laughing. You think he likes your laugh. Or maybe he likes your time and appreciation. Whatever it is, Oikawa does not grow tired of seeing you laugh.

Toru Oikawa is as strange as you, you believe, and strange people stick together.

“Today,” Oikawa says through the string-cup-phone-thing, “I saw a skunk, and I thought of you.”

You blink. “I hate you.”

“Skunks are cute!” he insists through the cup. “I’m talking about its eyes. It had beautiful eyes. Take it as a compliment! The skunk’s beautiful eyes were so astounding that they seemed to—”

“Don’t try to redeem yourself.”

There are some days where Oikawa is too tired to talk to you, and although you are hurt by it, you realize that he needs time to himself. He sits on his bed, visible through the balcony window doors and buries his face in his hands. He looks defeated. All you can do is watch and pretend you do not see.

The thing about character is that one has to keep building it.

Oikawa constantly compares himself to others. At first it is not visible, but it becomes painstakingly obvious to those who are close to him. Oikawa brings up other volleyball players all the time, and he says that he wishes that he can serve like him or receive like her. You tell him that he can, and he laughs.

His envy is tiny, and you can see it in the way he praises this person’s sets and in that person’s passes. All you say in response is that they have to grow to get there, and that he, too, can grow.

So you wait by the string-cup-phone-thing. The cup hangs from you railing and dangles near your ear. It is too late in the day, but you force your eyes awake every time you feel yourself drifting off to sleep.

You will be here for Toru Oikawa. You will be here for him.

Oikawa steps outside today, and he sees you by the string-cup-phone-thing. You are curled up in a ball, dozing off near your respective cup. There is a lopsided grin on his face that appears whenever he sees you. He feels dizzy.

He sits down on the balcony, reaching for his cup that dangles from his railing. He starts talking. He tells you about his day, and he tells you about what he’s worried about. Although you are barely awake to hear it, Oikawa is glad that you are here anyway. You have this unspoken determination about you that makes Oikawa feel jumpy.

The months pass by, and you realize that you have a strong connection with Oikawa. Although having never spoken before quarantine and having never seen him closer than six feet away, you feel closer to him than ever. You do not need to be holding him; you do not need to be near him.

All you have to do is be there.

There are nights where it is you and him and silence. You and he seem to forget that the other is there with them, but if one were to leave, then you and he would feel as if something was wrong. The Earth will not be the same without the other, and you come to the profound realization that the universe is built upon one thing missing the other.

You are humming, and Oikawa is rolling around his volleyball. There is nothing but the sound of the concrete underneath the leather ball and your broken humming. You hum quietly, and it is breathy and choppy.

Then you hear something from your string-cup-phone-thing. You quickly snatch the cup and motion for Oikawa to repeat what he said.

It is quiet and apprehensive. “Do you want to spend Christmas with me?”

You drop the cup. It dangles. You stare at Oikawa, whose ball was rolling away toward the panel of the balcony window door. He is sheepishly carrying his cup and looking at you, expecting an answer.

“Just reject me already,” Oikawa says. So his invitation has more connotations that you realize. Your heart is like that of a jackrabbit. “Then you’ll never hear me bring this up again, if you don’t want me to.”

He stands there, his hair looking like shiny lucky pennies on sidewalks. His smile is as genuine as ever, and it tells you that even if you tell him no, he will still be there with you because that is what friends do. 

If Toru Oikawa were to look in a mirror, he will see a hero.

He is glowing, you think. You don’t know if anyone else can see it. You want everyone to look at Oikawa and see how beautiful he is glowing. He is like the moon. The noisy neighbor whom you once hated is now the person who is most cherished across from you. You believe you can find no one close to Oikawa.

You don’t think you can ever stop appreciating the pillar that is Toru Oikawa, and you don’t think you ever want to. You have a thousand things you want to say, and you do not know which one to say right now. You do not think that this is the right time, either.

Maybe you will say these things later, if you have time.

During the most unfortunate of times, human beings are desperate. Thus, you can say with your utmost confidence that you are here for Oikawa, and that is all. 

You grab the cup and scramble to your feet. It is then you lean over your railing and hold the cup to your mouth. You are happy. You are indescribably, ardently, and passionately happy. There is an answer that rips from your throat when you open your mouth. You say something along the lines of hoping that it better be the best Christmas you will ever have.

Oikawa laughs, and he says, “you’re a delight, [Y/N]. I think you’re like a goddess.”

“Delight is a lousy way to describe me,” you say. “Call me mesmerizing, jaw-dropping, and radiant.”

“How about enchanting?”

You think about it. “I think enchanting will do just fine.”

“Right then,” Oikawa says, “[F/N], you are absolutely enchanting.”

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Melodrama Prompt List

A collection of prompts set to Lorde’s Melodrama

I do my make-up in somebody else's car, we order different drinks at the same bars

I know about what you did and I wanna scream the truth

Thought you said that you would always be in love, but you're not in love, no more

Did it frighten you, how we kissed when we danced on the light up floor?
 I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it

Sometimes I wake up in a different bedroom

I whisper things, the city sings them back to you

All those rumors, they have big teeth

But, honey, I'll be seein' you down every road

It's time we danced with the truth

We're sleeping through all the days

But my hips have missed your hips

Will you sway with me?  Go astray with me?

We're King and Queen of the weekend, ain't a pill that could touch our rush

But what will we do when we're sober?

These are the games of the weekend

We pretend that we just don't care, but we care

Midnight, lose my mind, I know you're feeling it too

Can we keep up with the ruse?

I know this story by heart

Jack and Jill get fucked up and possessive when it get dark

Midnight, we're fading, til daylight, we're jaded

In the morning, you'll be dancing with all the heartache

Don't know you super well, but I think that you might be the same as me

I'll give you my best side, tell you all my best lies

Know I think you're awesome, right?

Our rules, our dreams, we're blind

Blowing shit up with homemade d-d-d-dynamite

Our friends, our drinks, we get inspired

Might get your friend to drive, but he can hardly see

I guess we're partying

Well, summer slipped us underneath her tongue

Our days and nights are perfumed with obsession

Half of my wardrobe is on your bedroom floor

I am your sweetheart psychopathic crush

I overthink your p-punctuation use, not my fault, just a thing that my mind do

Our thing progresses, I call and you come through

Blow all my friendships to sit in hell with you

But we're the greatest, they'll hang us in the Louvre

Okay I know that you are not my type, still I fall

I'm just the sucker who let you fill her mind, but what about love?

A rush at the beginning, I get caught up, just for a minute

Says he made the big mistake of dancing in my storm

So I guess I'll go home, into the arms of the girl that I love, the only love I haven't screwed up

They say, "You're a little much for me”

I understand, I'm a liability

Get you wild, make you leave

I'm a little much for everyone

The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy til all of the tricks don't work anymore, and then they are bored of me

But every perfect summer's eating me alive

They're gonna watch me disappear into the sun

Let's give it a minute before we admit that we're through

I remember the rush, when forever was us

God I wish I believed you when you told me this was my home

I care for myself the way I used to care about you

Know you won't remember in the morning when I speak my mind

Lights are on and they've gone home, but who am I?

Oh, how fast the evening passes, cleaning up the champagne glasses

We told you this was melodrama

And the terror, and the horror, god, I wonder why we bother

All the glamour, and the trauma, and the fucking melodrama

All the gunfights, and the limelights, and the holy sick divine nights

They'll talk about us, all the lovers, how we kiss and kill each other

You wanted something that we offered

Sorry I was never good like you

Hated hearing my name on the lips of a crowd

Did my best to exist just for you

Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark

I am my mother's child, I'll love you 'til my breathing stops

I'll find a way to be without you, babe

I still feel you, now and then

When you see me, will you say I've changed?

I ride the subway, read the signs, I let the seasons change my mind

I love it here since I've stopped needing you

In my head, I play a supercut of us

We keep trying to talk about us, I'm someone you maybe might love

I'll be your quiet afternoon crush, be your violent overnight rush

In my head, I do everything right

Because ours are the moments I play in the dark

We were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart

All of the dreams that get harder, all of the things that I offer you, and all of the shit that we harbour

Maybe all this is the party, maybe we just do it violently

But you're not what you thought you were

Every night, I live and die, feel the party to my bones

It's just another graceless night

I'm 19 and I'm on fire

But when we're dancing I'm alright

Are you lost enough? Have another drink, get lost in us

This is how we get notorious

We are young and we're ashamed

All of our heroes fading, now I can't stand to be alone

Let's go to perfect places

Every night, I live and die, meet somebody, take 'em home

Let's kiss and then take off our clothes

All the nights spent off our faces, trying to find these perfect places

What the fuck are perfect places anyway?

[dayurno]

god Christ I can’t help it I’m having thoughts and they’re not smart ones. Kevin has a semi-parasocial relationship with lorde. Neil was briefly exposed to the microcosm that was one direction fans circa 2013 via katelyn and now assumes that that’s what all self proclaimed [insert any music] fans are like so he stays away from all of it but he does like those websites that let you listen to obscure international radio. Everyone assumes Andrew either doesn’t listen to music at all or he listens to solely edgy mid noughties emo rock and like he does a little bit but only because that’s what Aaron listens to and he’s absorbed some of it by osmosis but I think he’d be more into like, frank ocean. maybe some paramore. I’m so sorry for dumping this into your inbox have a lovey day.

nothing couldve prepared me for this but i think you're absolutely right. this prompted me into wanting to answer this ask with what i think kandreil would listen to, so here you go. consider it an extension on your thoughts

andrew: frank ocean one HUNDRED percent and it's the only thing that can make this man feel anything other than unbridled rage and sheer horniness. i agree on the paramore but i think he absolutely hated after laughter for the general cutesy looks so now he has an everlasting grudge against hayley williams. i also think andrew goes really hard to obscure, late-00s german rock and would definitely fuck with indie folk and what i affectionately like to call lesbian music. andrew, i have seen your 50 streams on men i trust and i'm not impressed. also he gives me major white boy who listens to eminem and/or weezer vibes and you KNOW i'm right! other artists also include daft punk, fall out boy (emo ass), green day, and whatever 90s shit old white men like to consider superior music

kevin: i do not think kevin listens to music. actually, let me rephrase this: up until his graduation, kevin doesn't listen to music. it's not an habit he was allowed or encouraged to have in the nest, he had no time for it, and he wouldn't even know where to begin after so long without it. so, yes: when kevin actually finds music that he likes, you bet it becomes an hyperfixation. i like to think kevin can't really enjoy anything he doesn't understand, so he'd go deep into music theory and whatnot once he starts to actually listen to it, which is how he gets his parasocial relationship with lorde at all. he's REALLY into the melodrama-greek tragedy lore but is not as invested in the teenage lethargy of pure heroine, if only because he has no teenage stories to relate to it. i think kevin would enjoy recent pop music moderately, but his real shit is 70s and 80s disco pop, which is most of what he can remember his mother listening to. i also believe he'd fuck with 90s hip hop and rock because of wymack and andrew :^)

neil: neil listens to fucking. grocery store music. he's not really as interested in music as kevin or as moved by it as andrew, since most of what he listens to is on the radio during his jogs, but he's developed the habit of tuning in every morning and now he can't give it up. neil knows bits and pieces of pop culture from what he's learned during his life on the run, but ultimately he doesn't really care enough to know what is considered good or bad, so he is quite unashamed of his music taste. i'm talking one direction, that "baby! why don't you just meet me in the middle" song, the chainsmokers, really whatever's popular enough for him to know about. on the other hand, i also think he'd fuck with classical music, and white he mostly tolerates kevin's and andrew's music tastes, he's well informed enough about those to adapt his own playlists to whoever's near him at the time. he is obsessed with pop culture conspiracy theories as well — do Not ask neil about how and why he thinks tupac died if you're not ready to argue with him about it.