#still it's a lot colder than theyre used to and that alone makes them excited

[fizzytoo]

surprise! the kameāloha's are spending winter break in san sequoia !

i feel so nostalgic being in this home again :( it feels like i’m coming home too. everything is as i left it (well obviously lol) i just didn’t expect to be so emotional about it

i haven’t been in this home since may :(( i missed it

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

         The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

          That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

          And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

          “[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

          You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

          “Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

         Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

         “What’s wrong?”

         “I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

         “On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

         As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

        “Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

        Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

       You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

       The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

      If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

      When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

      You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

      “Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

      “Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

      “I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

      Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

      You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

      Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

      “You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

      Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

      “Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

      You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

      “You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

      You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

      “Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

      Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

      “Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

      Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

      So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

       “I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

      You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

      He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

      You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

      “In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

      Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

      The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

      You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

      Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

      And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

      You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud. 

      Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

  ��   “I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

      “You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

      “But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

      It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

      “What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

      “You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

      Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

       “It will.” 

        When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

       While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

       “Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.” 

       You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

       You were using Michael Mell.

[sexysilverstrider]

LMAO IM STILL BLAMING YOU my angst brain didnt use to be this active 😂 i was listening to that oldcodex song you reblogged and i imagine. alfonse sings to kiran while theyre chilling together maybe some askr traditional songs idk. fast forward its after kirans gone (dead or back to her world, whatever is okay) and he misses her so he sings that song again but this time alone. and then he cries. damn i think the storys better if kiran dies

i love you c:

 His voice was her favourite melody.  Seconds after silence finally sang its turn, her ecstatic clapping filled the meadow. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “Wow, wow, wow!” she repeated, over and over. Cheeks flushed in faint red from the joy that bloomed within. A pink smile curled wider to see the wild flash of crimson in his dashing face.  To be honest, Alfonse started to briefly regret telling her about his little secret.

 “I-It’s…” Voice broken to embarrassed stutters, he then proceeded to take a deep breath. “It wasn’t that great, Kiran.” Still, the smile he vainly tried to hold back perked up slightly. White teeth nipped the insides of his burning cheek, the prince slowly shook his head at her overly excited denial.  “Nonsense!” Both hands waved up and down, then plopped back to her lap as she looked at him. Her legs stretched forward. Her toes curled cosily. The green grass beneath them felt like a plush carpet. One hand placed onto the ground, Kiran silently wondered if she would fall asleep immediately if she lay down on her back.  Maybe Alfonse could sing another song as her lullaby.  Tempting. Truly tempting. But otherwise a terribly embarrassing request.  “And may I know what you find funny now, Kiran?”  She hadn’t realized laughter had bubbled out of her lips from the idea. Right hand then zoomed to her mouth, fingers delicately pressed against her hot skin. “Oh no—nothing, nothing!”  Alfonse didn’t buy her blatant lie.  A single eyebrow raised in curiosity. A charming grin tickled the corner of his mouth. “It doesn’t seem like a ‘nothing’.”  “It does.” She convinced, though more laughter rang as an act of betrayal to her words. Back straightened slightly, Kiran pursed her lips and quickly changed the topic. “So, do you basically know all the traditional Askarian songs or are there any secret ones that require a soul-searching journey in order to know?”   She always loved listening to his chuckle.  “I know…” Those pretty pink lips were pouted for a while, “some, I suppose. Mother introduced a lot of songs when I and Sharena were little. But in time, there are some songs that I find quite difficult to sing.” One hand placed on his crossed legs, Alfonse brought his right finger up and tapped his chin. “I think it’s mostly because it’s written in ancient text, so to read and memorize it might take some time than usual.”  “Ah,” Her head tipped upwards in understanding. Interest fully shined upon the prince, Kiran bent her legs close to her chest. “If it’s okay with you, can I hear the melody of these old songs, at least?” Her left cheek gently rested on her knees, Kiran flashed a sweet smile. “I mean…” Embarrassment now sizzled her face. Excitement now accelerated her heartbeat. “If…you don’t mind, of course.”  His smile was one of the radiant sun. “Of course I don’t, Kiran.”  Their smiles matched each other perfectly. Their faces continued to burn, yet warmth pooled cosily in the pits of their stomachs.  She loved staring at him. But she could never get used to him staring at her.  “A-Anyways!” Again she quickly changed the topic. “So, tell me about the super old songs!” God, she really needed to fan her face from the sudden heat. “Since you said it’s written in ancient text, does it have another magical powers?”  His reply was immediate, but Kiran didn’t expect it to be in a form of lively laughter.  Deep brown eyes were wide on the prince. Stupor briefly flashed upon the summoner’s face, heat then boiled straight to her head when she realized her question might be the stupidest question she had asked yet.  “That—!” Swiftly he huffed out his laughter into chuckles. Upon realizing that his reaction might have offended her, Alfonse coughed once into his right fist and kept a serious expression in front of her.  It failed, however, when he saw that adorable pout.  “You never know!” Without waiting for his response, Kiran stifled a loud, long groan. “I mean, mages and sorcerers use weird words to form magic, so I just assumed—” More groans replaced her reasoning when she saw that frustratingly cute tremble of his lips. “Oh shut up!” Head dizzying with embarrassment, the summoner then opted to just drop her head to her knees.  She could still hear his laugh.  “I’m sorry, Kiran.” His smile softened. His gaze never torn away from her. “Truly I am.”  God, her heart could melt so easily like this.  Forgiveness was then given in a form of a jutted tongue. More laughter rang from the prince, and soon enough, Kiran couldn’t help herself and joined him in the silly bliss.  “To be honest, I am quite curious, though.” Sitting in front of her, Alfonse momentarily gazed at the blue skies. “Since it is written in ancient texts, I wouldn’t be surprise if the texts share similar traits to those the magic-users use.” Shoulders shrugged once, he then dropped his gaze back at the summoner. “Who knows? Maybe it might possess some magical qualities that we never knew.”  “Yeah.” Her heart raced. “Like a spell to revive someone.”  For a short moment in time, Alfonse felt as if all air had been robbed right out of his lungs.  Shock flickered in a pair of azures. But when he saw her smile beamed so brightly in his vision, that shock simmered down to pure, sheer admiration. “Yes…” His laughter this time was softer, quieter. “Perhaps.”---  He couldn’t hear anything.  Steel was clashing against steel. Sounds of flesh tearing apart and bones breaking into pieces echoed demonically into the bright blue sky. Blood soaked the once green ground. Bodies decorated the area that was once pure from war and death.  His arms were shaking. His breathing grew heavier.  He didn’t let her go.  He didn’t want to let her go. His arms were still trembling, but his grip on her body remained firm and close. Right arm wrapped around her back and hand squeezed her right shoulder, Alfonse pressed his shaking left hand onto her chest.  The blood felt cold. The flesh within felt colder.  K— Dazed horror flashed in a pair of wide azures. K-K— Tears pooled fast and heavy in each socket. Head lowered and bobbed weakly above her, Alfonse trailed his gaze from the gaping wound to her face.  Her eyes were wide. Too wide.  She didn’t move a muscle. Her whole body was still as stone as the only movement that could be registered from her was entirely from him.  She still didn’t move.  Screams and cries still shrilled painfully around him, yet Alfonse begged, prayed desperately for the only sound in his arms.  “Like a spell to revive someone.” His throat then felt as if someone had clamped one hand around it, Alfonse coughed heavily before nausea rolled deep in his stomach.  A song.  His whole body began to shake. His numbed mind forced itself to remember the ancient song that he had secretly learned and memorized in order to surprise her. Torn lips dry and shaky, Alfonse heaved a shaky, uneven breath before weakly lowered his head to hers.  Azure eyes met deep browns.  His voice was weak. Too weak. Too brittle and too faint to make out any words that deemed incomprehensible. But he forced himself. He forced out the words that slurred pathetically against the growingly cold face.  She still didn’t move.  More and more tears dropped, cruelly mixed along with the blood that gushed through the long line on her left cheek. The colour in her iris started to fade, started to be swallowed by the growing shape of her pupils. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. Blood caressed his lips as Alfonse weakly sobbed the song close to her mouth.  The sounds around him was agonizing, jarring, deafening.  He didn’t want to hear them. Pl— He didn’t want to hear any of them! –ease—Pl—e…ase—!  Right now, her voice was his desperate wish.END