#there's another song about this unearthly feeling of missing someone so hard that makes me weep

[katierosefun]

i don’t care what y’all say, bts is actually really great + all the group members are actually super talented, and people only roll their eyes at bts because of racism + also concept that everything teenage girls like are stupid 

[lazaefair]

Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral. 

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees. 

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?” 

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

[love-and-monsters]

Arunio the Merman

Happy Mermay everybody! In honor of this wonderful month, here’s a story about a lovely merman. I had a good time writing this (it’s a bit longer than usual) so I hope you all enjoy.

Male merman X gender neutral reader, 6,447 words

Living near the sea was supposed to be peaceful.

It wasn’t during the day, that was for sure. Living on the boardwalk meant hearing the constant chatter of tourists and visitors outside from dawn until dusk. But the rent hadn’t been bad, considering it was beachfront property, and working in the shop downstairs meant that your travel expenses were nearly nonexistent. It had been a great stroke of luck that you’d been able to get a job and a home in one fell swoop- apparently the owner of the shop wanted someone to watch over everything at night and open early in the morning and had been willing to drop rent significantly in return.

You had been expecting there to be crowds and noise during the day. But the night, at least when there weren’t events, was supposed to be quiet. The beach was closed, and even the people who snuck on were at least somewhat quiet, lest the police show up.

Despite this, you had been woken every night, just after midnight, by someone singing.

At least, it was probably singing. That was the only way you could describe the unearthly wailing that came from the water’s edge. The tone ululated, notes wavering in a way that seemed both sad and hopeful.

The sound seemed unusually loud, given that you were fairly certain it was coming from the beach and your house wasn’t that close. And no amount of closing windows or pulling pillows over your head would make the sound go away. If anything, it became more insistent, needling against your brain until you gave up and lay awake for the requisite hour.

It was always an hour, or thereabouts. The song would remain constant until at least one, then it would fade away and you would have to try and fall back asleep again. That would have been easier if the song wasn’t so haunting. You would drift off, almost to sleep, and then you would remember a particularly moving swell or feel the tremor of hopeful notes in your chest and you would be awake again, eyes brimming with tears.

After a week, you felt like you were going mad. The lack of sleep had fogged your brain and the notes seemed to haunt you during the day. It was when you realized that you were humming it under your breath at work that you decided something needed to be done.

Your plan was simple. Sneak onto the beach after closing, find whoever was singing, and tell them, quite politely, to shut it. You weren’t sure how the mysterious singer would take that, but you were hoping you could look at least intimidating enough to get them to move somewhere else.

The beach was quiet after dark, the only noise being the rushing of the waves as they hit the shore. It was a soothing sound, one that lulled you into a doze despite the coarse sand.

A long, low note brought you out of your sleep. You jerked awake, song ringing in your ears. The beach was dark, only a thin sliver of moonlight illuminating the water. And in the little line of light, there was the singer.

For a moment, you thought he was lying very awkwardly on the beach, arms supporting his torso while his legs splayed behind him. And then, as your eyes adjusted to the scant lighting, you saw the fins at his waist and on his sides and the enormous tail that made up his lower half. Multilayered, frilly fins billowed in the constant motions of the waves.

A merman. A fucking merman. You’d never seen one. You didn’t know anyone who’d seen one. Mermaids were rare, but you’d seen a few older ones acting as ambassadors to humans. Mermen were almost never seen- apparently their society was matriarchal and they remained sequestered beneath the waves, with little opportunities to interact with the above-water world.

 He was a striking specimen. Dark stripes lined his tail and torso, and thin spines lifted along his back. His hair fell to his shoulders, fluffed into a lion-like mane. As you watched him, he tilted his head back and opened his mouth.

The song poured forth. It felt like a physical force now that you were close. The notes suffused your skin. It felt like the song was something you could touch, feel with every cell in your body.

It was a dizzying sensation and it took you a moment to gather yourself. “Hey!”

The song stopped. His head whipped toward you, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. For a long moment, there was no sound except the crashing of the waves on the beach.

The merman sagged, lowering himself closer to the beach. “You heard me singing?”

His mouth didn’t move. You heard the words, but it took you a moment to realize you’d heard them in your head. Well, that explained why putting pillows over your head hadn’t helped. “I came here because I heard you singing,” you told him. “You’re loud.”

His head tilted slowly to one side. There were stripes along his cheekbones. “You heard me,” he repeated. This time, his tone was less surprised and more contemplative. He peered up at you, head tilting back and forth.

“Yes,” you repeated tersely. You were wondering if he was a little slow. “It’s loud. I heard you all the way from my house.”

The merman’s eyes widened and he smiled. His teeth were long and pointed. “And it drew you here?”

“Yes,” you said, starting to lose your patience. “Because it was keeping me awake. I know singing is important for merfolk, but if you could do it at another time, that would be very helpful, because I really need to get some sleep.”

The merman jerked forward, taking hold of your hand. Before you could even react, he pressed the back of your head to his forehead and he sang.

This time, the notes didn’t seem to move into you from the outside so much as they started inside you. They vibrated under your skin, swelled in the hollow of your chest. You could feel every rise and fall of the notes in the swoop of your stomach.

When he released your hand, you stumbled. It felt like you had been floating out of your body for a moment and when he let go of you, you had been slammed back into your heavy physical form.

“What,” you said, between heavy breaths, “was that?”

“Our song,” the merman said, sounding exceedingly pleased.

“Our song,” you repeated.

The merman’s tail swished back and forth in the surf. “Mermen sing to find their mates,” he said. “We separate from our pods and sing until our mate finds us.” He ducked his head a little. “I have been traveling for several lunes. But no one has been drawn to my song. Until now.”

You opened your mouth slowly. He looked so hopeful that it was hard to get the words out. “I didn’t come because I was drawn to your song. You woke me up. I was just trying to see what was making the noise.”

The merman tilted his head to one side. The fins on either side of his head, where his ears should have been, flexed slowly. “You heard me,” he repeated. It was the sort of tone you would use with a particularly dumb child.

“Yes,” you said. “But I didn’t come because I thought it was a good song. It kept waking me up.”

The merman was silent for a moment, just looking at you steadily. You wondered if he was getting a crick in his neck from having to look up for so long. “I think you are misunderstanding,” he said after a moment. “The song should be beautiful, but mates are not chosen by whose song they enjoy the most. They are chosen by who hears it.”

You sat slowly on the beach. The surf washed over your feet. “Explain.”

“Our songs are personal. They come from our hearts. Only those who are connected to us can hear our songs.” He frowned. “This is difficult to explain. I know the human tongue, but it lacks the words. Our mate songs are produced on the deepest level of our selves. Only those who are on the same level can hear us. Only our mates.”

“It’s like frequencies,” you said. “You produce your songs on a certain frequency, and only someone who is on the same frequency can hear you.”

“You have heard the song. Which means that you are connected to me.” He rested a hand over his chest. “My mate.”

“I’m… human, though,” you said. “How is that possible?”

“The song has touched humans before. I have heard legends of humans who left the land to become notes in the great song. And merfolk who deafened themselves to the chorus to sing only with their partner. Humans may be mute, but rarely are they deaf to the song in its entirety.”

The waves were rising, pulling further up onto shore. You ignored it. “Humans who left the land?”

“They became part of the song,” he said, as if that explained anything at all. “They allowed themselves to become part of it, became singers. Their voices are always weaker, but the song allows all participants.”

“I don’t understand.”

He patted your hand. “You do not need to. Not now.” He glanced at the rising water. “I must return to the sea. But I will see you again. Listen for me. My song will guide you.”

He lifted your hand and pressed his lips to it. A measure of music flowed through you, rapid and trilling, and then he broke contact. With a fluid, twisting motion, he plunged into the rising surf. A few strokes of his powerful tail, and he had drifted back out to the ocean.

You sat on the beach for a few moments. Once or twice, you thought you saw his tail fin break the surface of the waves, but it was distant enough that it could have just been an oddly shaped wave.

Finally, when you were certain he was gone and he wasn’t coming back, you turned and marched up the beach, back to your house.

You did manage to fall asleep when you got into bed. Catching up on a week’s worth of missed sleep wasn’t going to wait for a time when your mind was less full. But your dreams were odd and full of mournful, melodic song.

When you woke up, you weren’t feeling significantly rested, so you did something you hadn’t since you’d gotten your job: you called out sick. You needed some time to think.

After eating breakfast, you grabbed your laptop and began to do some research.

Merfolk weren’t well-understood by humans. There were only a few consistent pieces of information that popped up: they were largely nomadic, they had some sort of telepathic ability that they referred to as ‘singing’, and they were largely matriarchal, with men expected to leave their pods once they came of age and seek out a mate. Everything else was largely steeped in hearsay and folklore.

Attempting to look specifically toward merfolk and humans being mated was even more of a mire of misinformation. Most of what you found seemed to be erotic fiction, and most of that was very poorly written. Even the stuff that could have been true was inconsistent, or didn’t match with what your merman had told you.

You rubbed your hands over your face. There were stories about merfolk and humans hooking up, but that was all they seemed to be. Just stories. But your merman had seemed certain it was real.

Then again, merfolk didn’t delineate fact from fiction the same way humans did. They told stories and sang songs, and whatever made for a better story or song was what got passed on. The listener got to decide what they believed was true.

“Fuck.” You leaned back in your bed and rubbed at your temples. So, what he mentioned about humans and mefolk being together could have been true. Or it could have been legends and tall tales. There was no way to tell. He probably didn’t even know.

You tried to dig deeper, find out more, but they were stubbornly mysterious. Half the things people said about them were contradictory, and if any merfolk had come to land to find their mates, they had kept their mouths shut. If you wanted to know anything about merfolk, there was only one source you could go to.

Which meant that, when midnight approached, you were down on the beach, waiting for him to return.

His song preceded him. Your heart pounded in almost perfect time with the rhythm and his long, gentle notes rang in your head. Then you saw his tail break the surface of the water close to the shore and he swam up onto the beach.

When the water grew too shallow for him to swim further, he hauled himself out with his arms. His tail worked against the sand, pushing himself fully out of the water.

“I’m glad you came,” he said as you approached him. “I was not sure that you would.”

You sat down in front of him as he fully pulled himself out of the water. “I was trying to learn more about merfolk,” you said. “You said that merfolk have taken humans as mates before, but I haven’t seen anything about that.”

“Merfolk songs travel further than human ones. And we notice new singers more readily than humans.”

“New singers?”

“New merfolk, to add their voices to the eversong,” he said. “If you come to the sea with me, you will join your voice with the eversong. Or, if you are unwilling to become a singer, I can deafen myself to the song and come to be with you.”

“You would be willing to do that?” you asked.

He closed his eyes. “Sometimes, a singer must leave the song for it to resolve properly. And the mate song is absolute. I may return to the sea, but I will never find another one who will hear my song. I would like to be heard.”

You looked out over the waves as the flowed up onto the beach. “Do I have to decide now?”

He rested his hand over yours. “When it begins to grow cold, I will not be able to stay here. I will either need to return to the deeper sea or leave it altogether.”

“So, I have the summer,” you said. He nodded. His hand shifted, squeezing your fingers. “Okay.”

“Listen for the eversong,” he suggested. “Humans make poor listeners, but some have claimed to hear it before.” A few notes chimed in your head, though you were fairly certain they were his. “I should return to the sea now. But I will see you again.”

His hand reached up for your face and cupped your chin. He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, then he turned and plunged back into the waves.

Going to the beach at night became a new part of your routine. He was nearly always waiting for you or just a few minutes from showing up. And it rapidly became the best part of your day.

Most of the time, you would talk. He was interested in learning about life on land and you got to learn a lot about his culture.

“My name?” he asked when you requested it. “It is-” He stopped and sang out a series of tremulous notes.

 You tried to hum them back to him. Hitting the notes wasn’t hard, but there was a deeper, ringing tone to his voice that you couldn’t replicate. Your voice sounded oddly flat in comparison.It

He laughed, dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Your pronunciation needs work,” he said. “For a name easier on your tongue, try Arunio.”

“Ah-roo-nee-oh,” you repeated. There was a musical cadence to the way he spoke that you tried to replicate. He nodded.

“Would you like me to give you a merfolk name?” he asked. “I have one in mind.”

“Go for it,” you said.

He placed his hand over yours and sang. It was a high, ringing noise, almost like a peal of laughter and it made warmth radiate through your chest.

“That’s my name?” you asked. He grinned, tail swishing through the water.

“You like it? It means…” He paused, tapping a long nail against his lower lip. “There is no human word that is exactly equivalent. It is the way sunlight looks when it cuts through clear water and you can feel its warmth on your back when you swim.”

A lump wedged itself into your throat. You had to swallow a few times before you could speak. “That’s beautiful,” you said. “What does your name mean?”

He laughed. “It means ‘one who wanders into fortune’. It is supposed to have been part of an old blessing given to mermen when they leave their pods.” He rested his chin on your knee. “Supposedly, it brings luck.”

You reached your fingers out and tentatively stroked them over his hair. It wasn’t particularly soft or silky- you weren’t even sure it was technically hair- but he made a pleasant humming noise in his chest whenever you touched him there, so you kept it up. “Do you think it worked?”

A gentle laugh vibrated through his chest. “Yes. I think it worked quite well.”

The night always finished with him singing quietly to you. Even on nights where you couldn’t make it to the beach, you could hear him calling to you. It kept you awake just as much as it had before, but you didn’t mind it. The song followed you into your dreams, filling them with oceans and swimming.

As the summer went on, your visits became slightly more infrequent. The shop only got busier as the peak of the season approached, and you could no longer afford missing the extra hours of sleep. He still sang to you, but, as per your request, the songs came earlier in the night. You drifted off to the sound of his singing sinking into your skin.

Just after the midpoint of summer, the shop was the busiest it had been all season. The only contact you’d had with Arunio all week had been his singing at night. Not only was manning the shop more difficult than usual, but you were expected to assist with making some of the candy that went out, which meant earlier mornings and later nights. The combination of exhaustion and missing Arunio meant that you weren’t entirely surprised when you thought, for half a second, that he had just walked into your shop.

The resemblance was striking. The hair was the same shade of deep red and it tumbled to his shoulders in a tousled mane. His features were similar too, with the same sharp nose and clever-looking eyes. But his skin was freckled, and there was, of course, he fact that he was walking. He was even wearing clothes. Touristy clothes. Both his shirt and pants were plastered with the beach’s logo, a bold fashion choice considering its gaudiness. But it wasn’t exactly out-of-place, so you went back to slicing off chunks of fudge for your current customer without another thought.

That was, until he spoke.

“I’ve missed you!”

You had been crouched down to rearrange part of the display case and you stood up so fast that you nearly slammed your head on the glass. There was no mistaking that voice. It wasn’t exactly the same. For one thing, you were hearing it outside of your head, instead of inside it, and, because of that, it lacked a certain richness. But other than that, it was exactly the same.

Arunio was leaning over the counter, a wide grin on his face. Now that you were getting a better look at his face, you felt stupid for not knowing it had been him at first. The freckles- looking at them properly, you could see that they weren’t in the standard scattered form of freckles. They outlined the shape of his stripes.

“You’re human!” you said, barely remembering to keep your voice down. “How- how did you-?”

“I told you about merfolk leaving the sea behind before,” he said. “I sang and the song moved, and it changed me.” He twisted a lock of hair around his fingers. “I thought it would be much quieter on land, without the song. But humans are quite loud themselves.”

“You- you changed?” you asked. “How do you turn back? Can you turn back?”

“I asked the song to change me back when I return to the sea,” he said. “The changing is difficult, though. I cannot attempt it again soon.”

“But you can go back and forth?” you said. “Can I change back and forth?”

“Yes. But it is not an easy process. It stresses the body. Doing it multiple times in a short period would be strenuous. The person doing it would grow ill if they attempted it often,” he explained. “But I wished to see you again. Even if I cannot sing for you in this form.”

Luckily you hadn’t gone on your lunch break yet, so you hurriedly clocked out and joined Arunio on the boardwalk. Now that you were getting a better look at him, you could see that his walk was unusual. He wobbled a little and would occasionally forget to move his legs so he tripped and stumbled. None of this seemed to dampen his spirits, though, and it gave him the rather endearing quality of an overexcited puppy.

“It’s very loud!” he said, speaking over the constant noise of the boardwalk. “And it’s very bright.” He squinted directly up at the sun.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “You’ll go blind.”

He looked back down at you. “And there are so many smells!” He sniffed at the air, head turning back and forth.

“Yeah, it’s a boardwalk. It’s got a lot of food,” you said. “Speaking of which, I should probably get some lunch. Do you want anything?”

His eyes widened when you led him up to one of the food stands and he saw the selection. “I’ve never had human food before,” he said into your ear. “What should I get?”

“Anything look good to you?” you asked. Arunio sniffed again, turning toward the fried food in the stand.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a tangle of fried dough.

“A funnel cake. You want it?” He nodded. “Okay.” You ordered a slice of pizza and the funnel cake. He took it tentatively, eyes wide. The flimsy paper plate bent under the weight of fried dough and sugar.

You guided him over to a table and bit into your pizza. He peered tentatively at the funnel cake, apparently uncertain how to eat it. “Just grab a chunk, pull it off, and eat,” you said, demonstrating. He watched you pop it in your mouth, then mimicked you.

“Oh! It’s hot!” he said, clapping a hand to his mouth. You laughed at his startled expression.

“Yeah, it’s fresh. Just came out of the fryer.” He chewed, swallowed, and licked the powdered sugar off his fingers, before tugging off another bite. His eyes closed and he made a contented noise in the back of his throat. “You like it?”

“It’s good!” he said. “I’ve never had anything like this stuff.” He poked the powdered sugar with a finger and licked it off.

“It’s sugar. I guess they wouldn’t have sugar under the ocean,” you said. “It’s not good for you to have too much of it, but it does taste good, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, snagging another bite. You finished off your pizza, offering him the last few bites.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” you said. “I’ll see if I can get off early, though. Maybe we can do something before everything closes. Can you come back around five?” He gave you a blank look. “Oh, shit, right. You wouldn’t know time. Look, why don’t you hang around the shop? I’ll let you know when I get off.”

He nodded agreeably and you left him just outside the shop. Every now and then, you saw him through the enormous glass windows of the shop. He stared out over the beach, watching the waves hit the shore.

It took some pleading and promises to come in earlier, but you managed to get off for the rest of the evening. Arunio pulled you into a crushing hug when you approached him. “You got off! Are you done for the rest of the evening?”

“Yeah. Figured that if you were going to be on land, we might as well take some time to see the sights.” You wriggled away from him and held out a box. “I got some candies for you.”

He poked through the box, peering at the assorted chocolates there. “These are food?” he said, peering at the shiny wrapping.

“You have to take the paper off first,” you said, unwrapping one and holding it out to him. “Here.”

He took it delicately from your fingers with his teeth. “These are sweet too,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s chocolate. They’ve got sugar in them,” you said. “They’re good, aren’t they?” He nodded, unwrapping another.

You walked along the boardwalk together. Sometimes you stopped to play one of the carnival games or looked through one of the touristy shops. Arunio was pretty poor at all the games, but he seemed to genuinely thrilled by them that you let him go over and over again, ignoring how much of a hole he was burning in your wallet.

Eventually, as the sun started to set, you walked out to an empty pier. “The land isn’t what I thought it would be like,” Arunio said. “But I did enjoy it.” He sat down, letting his legs dangle into the water.

“I’m glad,” you said. “I had a good time today too.” You peered down at the dark water. “But you have to return to the sea now, huh?”

“I should,” he said. “And I won’t be able to be on land again for a while.” He looked at you. “Are you going to be able to visit me again soon?”

“I’ll try,” you said. “The peak of the season will be over soon, so I’ll be able to get out sooner.”

He signed, shifting on the pier. “Okay. Don’t stay away too long, all right?” He looked at you through his lashes. “I miss you.”

He moved to jump off the pier, but you put a hand on his chest. “Hold on.” He paused and you reached out, resting your fingers under his chin. You saw his eyes widen a second before you leaned in and kissed him.

He tasted both sweet, like chocolate, and salty, like the sea. His lips moved under yours, tongue tentatively prodding against your mouth. It was a slow, tentative kiss, one that made happiness swell slowly in your chest.

When you broke away, there was a wide-eyed expression on Arunio’s face. “Thank you,” he said faintly. You snorted, surprised, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “I enjoyed that.”

“I did too,” you said. “Um. I’ll see you again soon.”

“Right,” Arunio agreed. He ducked in and pressed another, brief kiss to your lips before slipping under the waves.

Gradually, the season slowed and you had more time to spend with Arunio. Your conversations often turned toward the land, and he would ask about things he’d seen. Eventually, you started just taking your phone out and showing him some of your photos. He was fascinated by it, though you were cautious about letting him hold it. You trusted him, but his scaled palms were a little slick and you didn’t want to risk losing your phone in the waves.

Later on one night, you finally got up your courage to ask him. “You said it was possible for me to join you in the water,” you said. He tilted his head a little, fins twitching.

“You want to go swimming?” he asked.

“Sort of,” you said. “I was wondering if it was possible… For me to do the thing you did to come up on land?”

His eyes widened and he clasped your hands in his. “You want to become a merfolk?”

“Not permanently. Like what you did to become a human. Try it out,” you said. He nodded agreeably, grinning.

“Yes! Okay. Take off your clothes.”

You blanched. He waited. “I have to get naked?”

He tilted his head. “Yes? You could keep the shirt, I suppose, but it will be uncomfortable. And the pants will get in the way of the tail.” He shrugged. “I’m not wearing anything.”

Well, that was true. Embarrassed, you shucked your clothes, folded them up in a secluded spot where hopefully no one would notice them, and slipped into the water.

It was cold, even though the night air was still pleasantly warm. Arunio carefully swam out to sea beside you, until the water was up to your chest and it was getting hard to keep your feet on the sand.

“It will be easier under the water,” Arunio said. He tugged at your elbow. “Come under.”

You took in a deep breath and went down. Stinging salt squeezed past your closed eyelids and the waves tugged at you. Arunio’s hands rested on your arms, steadying you. Then they moved, coming to rest on either side of her face.

He sang. The music was loud and repetitive, like a rhythmic chant. It plunged into your skin, reaching every last portion of your body. The noise resonated through you. Every one of your cells seemed to be vibrating at that exact frequency. There was no sensation, just the music inside you, ringing through you, filling you completely.

The music stopped. You sagged, currents buffeting you. Your body felt distant, as if you were floating above it, connected with a thin tether.

Arunio took hold of your arm, pulling your through the water with him. “Can you move?” he asked you. There was a resonant quality to his voice, something musical that hadn’t been there before. “Swish your tail. Move your arms.”

Your tail. Slowly, you could feel your senses returning and everything from your waist down felt different. Your legs felt heavy and long. No, not your legs. Your tail. You had a tail.

You opened your eyes and looked.

Where your legs had once been, there was now a pale orange tail, with a large, white fin. A look at your arms showed that scales had sprouted and fins had formed at your forearms. You could feel the fins on the side of your head twitching in the currents.

And then your sense of hearing kicked in and you didn’t really care about the tail anymore.

The ocean, you had always thought, was eerily silent. You had been wrong. You just hadn’t been able to hear.

The ocean was full of song.

Music rippled with the currents, overlapping in a constant chorus. An endless resonant hum of beautiful, ringing sound. It was almost dizzying.

“You hear it?” Arunio asked. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, his tail brushing against yours. “The eversong?”

You nodded slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

The words came out in the same burst of musical telepathy Arunio used. The action had been instinctive, just like using the gills on your neck.

“It is,” Arunio agreed. He took your hand and began to swim.

Your tails brushed with every stroke. Arunio would occasionally dart down to the bottom of the ocean and scoop up a shell or piece of glass and offer it to you. He was an elegant swimmer, able to perform twists and twirls. You couldn’t manage much more than just moving in a straight line.

“You’ll get better,” Arunio promised. “You just need practice”

The two of you swam for a long time. When you came up tot eh surface to get your bearings, the shore was just a thin line on the horizon. The moon had reached its zenith above you and the waves shone silver with its light.

“You need to head back soon, don’t you?” Arunio asked.

“I should,” you said. Arunio took hold of your hand and pulled you back down under the water.

“Before you go,” he said. “I wanted to sing for you. While you can really hear it.”

One of his hands rested on your shoulder and he closed his eyes. The song you’d heard many nights before began again.

This time, it made your heart leap and your chest tremble. It struck something deep inside you. Something at the junction of your throat shivered and you sang back.

The notes were weak and wavering, but the instant they came out, Arunio stopped singing. In the silence, you faltered and stopped.

Arunio made a noise of delight. “You have a beautiful voice. It’s a little weak, but you just need practice.” He moved in close, one of his hands cupping your face. “I’ll teach you.”

He kissed you and sang at the same moment and the combination of sensations was overwhelming. You felt your own voice respond, almost involuntarily. The song still felt weak, but it was earnest and Arunio responded eagerly, pressing his mouth harder against yours.

It was difficult to breathe while kissing him, you discovered, which meant that you needed to separate eventually. Arunio smiled. “We’ll need to do this again,” he said. “But now you need to go home.”

He pulled you into the shallows and placed his hands on your face again. The song vibrated through you again. When it went silent, your legs were back.

Arunio helped you out of the water, squirming up onto the beach as far as he could. You fetched your clothes and dressed quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, crouching next to him. “Thank you for that.”

He reached up for you at the same moment you reached down for him and your lips met in the middle. Arunio gave a contented sigh. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

You watched him as he swam away until he vanished completely under the waves. Reluctantly, you returned home.

The summer continued on, and the decision grew harder and harder to make. The ocean was alluring, mysterious, and Arunio was there. But everything else you knew was on land. You didn’t really want to leave everything behind.

As it turned out, the decision was partially made for you.

You went out to meet Arunio at the shore’s edge, as you always did. He greeted you with an eager kiss, then settled down in the surf. “How was your day?”

You sighed. “Not great.” Arunio tilted his head, brows furrowing in concern. “My job is the only reason I have somewhere to live right now. But apparently, once the summer is over, the store doesn’t need as much help. So, I’m probably going to lose my job.”

“I’m sorry,” Arunio said. You weren’t sure how much he understood of the concept of a job or a house, but he at least understood that it was something to be upset about.

“I can get it back next summer. But I don’t know what to do in the meantime,” you said.

A pained smile crossed Arunio’s face. “I suppose this means you’re not going to be coming with me?” he asked. “I’ll need to head back out to deeper water soon.”

You rested your head on your knees. “I don’t know. I want to be with you. Really, I do. But everything I know is here. It would be hard to leave it all behind.”

Arunio still smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I know it must be difficult. I don’t blame you.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. “I want to be with you. But I can’t stay in the sea forever. This place is my home too…” You trailed off.

“It’s okay,” Arunio sid, though there was a small tremble in his voice. “I’ll be back. We’ll see each other again.”

“Uh huh,” you said. “Hold on. How often can a person change back and forth between merfolk and human?”

Aruino tilted his head. “There’s no set time limit. But I would suggest not doing it more than once every couple of lunes.”

“Okay,” you said. “That works.”

He looked blank. “What works?”

“I have an idea,” you said. “I don’t know if it’ll work for you, but I think it’s something we can try.” Arunio waited. “I can have the job and the house during the summer, and that’s also the time you can spend here. And when it’s not the summer, I can go with you. Out into the ocean. That way, I won’t have to leave the land behind, or you either.”

“I can stay on the shore with you in summer,” Arunio said. “We can live together. It’s a fair trade.”

“So, you’re okay with this idea?” you asked. “It works for you?”

Arunio stretched a hand up, cupped your face in his palm. “It means I can spend more time with you. Of course I’m okay with it.”

It took a few weeks to get everything set up for your journey. Personal effects needed to be stored and the few items that couldn’t be stored needed to be given to people who wouldn’t ask a lot of questions about where you were. You spun a complicated story about traveling and work and hoped people wouldn’t ask too may questions.

On the last day, you stood on the beach. It was sunset, but Arunio had found a secluded shoal where you could change in privacy.

“Are you ready?” he asked as you undressed and stepped into the waves.

“I’m ready.” He took your hand and drew you out in the water. Again, you sank beneath the waves and his hands rested on either side of your face.

The song rang through the water and your ears opened to the music of the ocean again. Arunio beamed as you flicked your tail, swimming clumsily around him.

“I’ll guide you,” he said. “It’ll take a while to get back to the pod. But it means plenty of time to practice swimming.” He hummed out a few notes that trilled with happiness. “And time to practice singing.”

You drifted closer and took his hand. “I’m looking forward to it.”

[airiat]

Boy with the Sun Song (VI.)

iorveth/f!oc | m | friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort | no warnings apply

vesta aep maghenn knows iorveth (iorveth aep mirbrach, to her) in a way that no one else can claim: they grew up together in the blue mountains and have been the closest of friends ever since. when iorveth’s unit is wiped out in an ambush by a powerful but unknown  adversary, he seeks shelter with vesta until it’s safe for him to rebuild.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

[read on ao3]

VI.

The days passed slowly and lazily like fog that rolls down a mountainside. Iorveth seemed to struggle with the transition from his fast-paced, unpredictable rebel lifestyle to my calm, steady world of caretaking and creating. It was almost too hard for me to be around him, the way his energy buzzed frantically and restlessly, threatening to crumble the walls of my home. We were fortunate that the enchantment extended beyond the physical house to a line around my property, which meant he was able to spend most of his days outdoors. 

That time was spent fletching an absurd stockpile of arrows and shooting them with his bow at the trunks of poor, hapless trees in the vicinity. To me, this seemed like a futile endeavor, but every time he did it, I could feel his energy streamline and settle, honing in on that singular task. But it also became a vicious energy, one that thirsted to see death and destruction. I could begin to imagine the fear his victims felt when they found themselves at the other end of his arrow or with his blade cutting into their skin. This was a part of him I had always avoided thinking about, but to see it take shape before my eyes made the thought unavoidable.

There were two sides of the coin. When I heard the name Iorveth, I thought of my best friend and protector, someone who had, despite all his life has asked of him, managed to stay by my side for most of it. A man whose pride was both his greatest strength and his deepest wound. A man who loved summer sunshine and played sweet music so that the birds sang back to him. But when most others thought of Iorveth, dh’oine and nonhumans alike, their minds became clouded with hatred, with cold-blooded fear. 

He was a criminal, a terrorist, a bloodthirsty villain who ought to have hanged for his misdeeds long ago. I knew this, and yet, I still forgave him for all of it. Even if I wasn’t Aen Seidhe, even if I didn’t understand the reasons for why he did what he did, I would have still loved him.

What did that make me, then, if I could still love him in spite of what he’d done? Did it make me a monster the same as him? 

The loud squawk of a bird pulled me out of my thoughts from where I stood leaning against the doorframe watching him shoot. When I refocused, I was met with the sight of Iorveth holding up a shot pheasant by the neck.

“Dinner,” he announced, a triumphant look in his eye, like this bird had been his white whale, like he’d not faced and cut down bigger, more fearsome foes before.

When was the last time he killed somebody, I wondered. 

I smiled at him. “I have a soup recipe that’ll go really well with that.”

“Sounds good.”

I watched as he left for the side of the house where he hung the bird for one of us to clean later. But my eyes didn’t follow his actions, they settled on the bow slung across his back, on the quiver full of arrows hanging from his waist. How they might feel in my hands, what it would have been like to do what he does.

“Do you think you can teach me that?” I asked when he returned, pointing to his bow.

His face lit up as I’d never seen it before. “How to shoot?”

I nodded. “Well, I mean, re-teach me how to shoot.”

He graced me with one of his rare, hard-won smiles. “I’ve been waiting for this day for so long.”

I couldn’t help but return his smile--it warmed me from within like I was standing in a patch of sunlight. “Well, here it’s arrived.”

“About time,” he replied, reaching behind him and pulling his bow out of its holster.

Iorveth approached me and presented the bow balanced on the palms of his hands like a knight would to his queen--all that was missing was him getting down on one knee. I saw a sparkle in his eye at this performance, so I played along with it, taking the weapon into my hands with gentle reverence, as though it was made of the most fragile glass. 

How many had he killed with this bow?

Then, he unbuckled the quiver from around his waist and fastened it around mine. The two objects felt so foreign to me, so cumbersome and awkward on my body. The quiver was heavy and knocked against my hip, the bow large and unwieldy. I looked down at the state of myself, feeling much like a child playing dress-up in her parent’s clothes. The feeling of this shouldn’t have been unfamiliar to me, but it still was. How did anyone fight like that? Much less with the unearthly grace Aen Seidhe are meant to possess? 

“None of this is suitable for you,” Iorveth said when he saw the apprehension that was surely written on my face. “I’ll make sure you get all your own equipment, but in the meantime, we can start here.”

“Alright…” I said slowly. “What do I do now, then?”

“What is it you think you should do?” he countered, going to lean against a nearby tree.

“...nock an arrow?”

He inclined his head towards me. “So you do remember.”

I had, of course, been taught archery as a young Aen Seidhe--right alongside Iorveth, in fact--such a rite of passage it was. But it was never something that I latched on to, preferring instead the lessons in creative arts and literature. And so, while Iorveth flew ahead in his archer’s training, in anything pertaining to combat, actually, I laid down my weapons as soon as I was possibly allowed to. Thus, it had been many, many years since I had last gone through these motions.

I reached for an arrow, fumbling around with the bow in my sudden bout of nervousness under his assessing, waiting eye. Eventually, I managed to get one in my hand and held it up to him victoriously, but he hardly looked impressed. Rolling my eyes, I slid the arrow into place and raised the bow, one eye squinted closed and my tongue poking out of the corner of my mouth. I spent so much time aligning myself with a tree trunk in the distance that the veins of the wood began to blur with the brush behind it. 

When I loosed the arrow, it missed spectacularly, going wide and sailing into the forest beyond.

Iorveth pushed himself off the tree with a shake of his head. 

“You must not overthink it, Vesta,” he chided. “It should be effortless, without any thought.”

I shook my head, furrowing my brow. “I’ve never been able to do that. It never worked for me.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’m going to teach you how to do,” he responded as he came to stand behind me.

Iorveth’s hands settled lightly on my waist in a way that was very distinctly unlike how I’d been taught as a child. There was a very brief flash in my mind of something heady, like candlelight and dark wine, but I pushed the thought away, startled by its appearance. He removed a hand to give me another arrow, and I nocked it, raising the bow back to the tree.

“Your enemy won’t stand there stock-still as you take your aim. There’s no time to think, only to feel and then to shoot.”

His last word came as a command and I obeyed instantly, without thought, but the arrow still swung wide, disappearing into the brush. I exhaled sharply, with frustration, and lowered the bow.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “Try again.”

I did as he said, but fell short of my target once more.

“What am I doing wrong, Iorveth?” I asked.

Another arrow passed to me. I nocked it and took aim, drawing back the string.

“You’re not breathing,” he said softly, and when he returned his hand to me, it slid down my back, over my waist, settled on my hip. ”Your core is too tight.”

In my surprise over the heat of his words, in the boldness of his touch, my fingers released the string and the arrow flew forward in a blink, embedding itself firmly in the trunk of the tree. The tree was wide, and my arrow hit far, far off to the right of center, but it was still there as plain as day.

 Immediately, Iorveth took his hands off me and stepped back, but I remained standing there bewildered by what he had just done and what it had made me do.

“Look at you,” he said from behind me. “Just like a real Aen Seidhe.”

I turned around to face him. “But I missed my mark.”

“Between missing your mark and missing entirely in the heat of battle, which would you prefer?”

“...I suppose.”

“An arrow wound is still a wound no matter where it hits,” he said. “And believe me, that shit ploughing hurts.”

I pulled a face, imagining what exactly that must feel like. 

“We’ll end here for today,” he said. “Better if you didn’t overdo it on a bow that isn’t right for you.”

I nodded, almost relieved at this out. I didn’t know if I’d have been able to handle another maneuver like the one he’d just pulled. Iorveth took his bow and quiver back from me, and we walked to the house. 

I felt much lighter, better, without them in my possession. I realized then that I’d been feeling the death emanating from them. The strain hadn’t come entirely from the fact that they were too big for me.

“I’ll make the proper bow for you,” he said. “Then we can try again.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Of course I do,” he answered, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I made mine.”

“You did?” I asked, glancing at the bow on his back. “It’s beautiful. I mean, it fucking reeks of death, but beautiful, nonetheless.”

He chuckled. “A lot of dh’oine blood on it.”

We arrived in the house and he pulled it off, leaning it against the wall near the door. 

Iorveth continued. “You’ve always been perceptive to things like that, haven’t you?”

I nodded. “The things I could say about the way your energy manifests.”

He looked at me curiously, but didn’t ask me to elaborate. “If that’s the case, surely you can feel the danger you’re in here. You’d honestly be safer in Vengerberg itself.”

“The enchantment protects me.”

He shook his head. “Magic is fallible. Very much so.”

“I’d know if it fell.”

“Maybe so, but then what? You’d be defenseless.”

I shrugged. “It hasn’t yet.”

Iorveth made a sound that sounded almost like a growl. “I’ll make you the bow, you’ll master that, and then we’ll move on to the blade.”

His angry panic rolled off of him in waves. I stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Instantly, he stilled and we stood there, me waiting, and him trying to calm himself down.

“If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself,” he said simply, in a low voice.

“You won’t need to. Nothing will happen.”

He let out a long, slow exhale. “Let me teach you how to protect yourself.”

“I will. Anything for you, remember?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.”

“I know, Iorveth. I hear you. Show me everything you know.”

“Thank you, beag’aine.”

Then, I released him and we set about the house, settling in for the evening. When I read him again, there was a different sort of feeling lingering in the fringes of his usual pain-anger-desperation. And when I took it inside myself, separated the layers, all I could think of was my writing, the purple-pink-wine red hues of an emotion I’d only ever known in fiction. I knew exactly what it was, but I didn't dare attach its name. Not now. Not yet.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Alt-pop newcomer LVRA (pronounced loo-rah, real name Rachel Lu) has shared her first new track of 2021, ‘DEAD’. Following up on 2020’s debut EP LVCID, she explains: “There’s a unique power you gain when you stop caring about what people think of you. It’s an ongoing battle, though, and ‘DEAD’ is about the conflict between the fantasy of not caring and how you feel in reality. The video captures that, with a version of myself who has her shit together and another that is fighting to survive.The use of red represents fear in the human condition, but in Chinese culture it also symbolises happiness. One rarely comes without the other.” The track – a cultural mix that matches LVRA’s heritage with bleeding edge ultra HD pop – is the first taster of a second EP, which is set to follow later this summer. You can check out an Oscar McNab (Lacuna Common, Oscar Lang). directed video above. [via Dork]

Los Angeles artist Wallice follows debut single 'Punching Bag' with new coming of age anthem, '23'. Wallice finds herself caught between two places on fresh cut, '23'. “Too old to be a runaway”, but also too young to consider herself as grown up, the 22-year old yearns for a past that still has not happened yet. Working with producer David Marinelli since her return to California, Wallice has crafted a sound that is unique without taking itself too seriously. An angst-driven remonstration at the powerlessness of her age, '23' is also the clearest stamp of her musical identity to date. The expression of this purgatory is a cathartic garage-rock headbanger complemented beautifully by Wallice’s playful lyrics. “I just can't wait to be / all grown up and 23,” she admits in the song’s irresistible chorus. “Tell me what is wrong with me / I miss my Ohio fake ID”. In artfully portraying the limbo state of the age, Wallice describes the events in her life that have led to her own disaffection. “It’s hard not to compare your own professional success to that of your similarly aged peers. I dropped out of university in New York after studying Jazz Voice for a year, and my dad was VERY disappointed, to say the least, so it was hard not to feel like a loser in that sense. “The specific age 23 doesn’t have any milestones associated with it, but it’s more the idea of just looking forward to the future,” Wallice continues on the meaning of the track. "Much like how people ‘reset’ every new year, it’s comparable to be ‘older and wiser’ with each birthday, but instead of constantly looking to the future, it is important to be happy with where you are”. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Coach Party have shared their new single 'Everybody Hates Me'. The Isle of Wight group are gearing up to release their incoming EP, with After Party pitting their potent indie pop influences against bittersweet lyricism. Out shortly, the EP is teased by new thumper 'Everybody Hates Me', with Coach Party adding a neat gloss to their guitar pop sound. Out now, 'Everybody Hates Me' comes equipped with a neat video steered by Daniel Broadley. Vocalist Jess Eastwood comments: “‘Everybody Hates Me’ isn’t a metaphor for anything; it’s literally about those times when you convince yourself that everyone, including your best friends don’t actually like you, and your self-confidence is so low that you don’t even blame them. Disguise that sentiment in an up-beat singalong, and there you have the third single from our new record. The video is a direct extension of the song. It swings between the insecurities of feeling like you’re not good enough amongst your friends, and the sense of unity you get from those same people when you finally wake up from your rut. Everyone feels that way from time to time, but you gotta remember that sometimes your irrational self is going to take over. And when it does, try to remember that you’re awesome, and your friends really are your friends.” [via Clash]

Pussy Riot have gone hyperpop on their latest song 'Toxic'. The Dorian Electra collaboration features glitched out production by Dylan Brady of 100 gecs and tackles a relationship gone bad. Written, directed, and edited by Pussy Riot’s Nadya Tolokonnikova, the music video features jarring, bloody imagery matching Brady’s production. “Care about yourself, cherish your mental health, and stay away from relationships that poison you!” Tolokonnikova writes in the YouTube description. “Amen.” In the song’s lyrics, Tolokonnikova tells off an ex. “You are my daily poison so annoying,” she sings. “You’re even more toxic than my employer.” The hook continues the theme. “This combo is deadly — ’cause we used to be friendly,” Electra laments. “And now my heart is a weapon / You made me… toxic.” [via Consequence of Sound]

Baby Queen has dropped a brand new track, ‘These Drugs’. Bella Latham’s second new track of the year – following up on the anthemic ‘Raw Thoughts’ – she explains in an Instagram post: “This is a story I really needed to tell you and I didn’t know how to for a long time. When I first wrote this song, I honestly didn’t think I was going to be allowed to release it or that releasing it would be a particularly good idea. It just felt really important and that’s all I’ve ever wanted music to be; so I knew I had to share it with you.I was in a very bad place at the time… very depressed and convinced I wasn’t a good person and didn’t deserve good things. Life is different now. I’m happy. I’ve learnt that the antidote to my misery is gratitude and caring about myself even when I don’t want to, until it becomes a habit. It’s natural to look for escapism but there’s more freedom in working to build a life you like… and by that I literally just mean learning to love yourself. You, with all your scars and all your regrets, are home to an actual life! You’ve been through so much and you’ve come out the other side stronger because of it – it’s remarkable really. You’ve got to invite the sad parts of yourself in to have a tea party with you. Don’t ignore them and cover them up. If you don’t look at them, they’ll make themselves seen! You are so worthy of love and I hope that if you don’t see that yet, you will learn to in time. Anyways guys,” she finishes, “this is all very intense. I love you very much and I hope you can understand and relate in some way.” [via Dork]

Greentea Peng has shared her new single 'Nah It Ain’t The Same'. The UK neo-soul voice is an outstanding talent, someone who pushes herself further into that hip-hop / jazz nexus with each release. Produced by Earbuds, new single 'Nah It Ain't The Same' is out now, one that reflects the chemistry she has with her live band The Seng Seng Family. Dipping into drum 'n' bass, her vocals have a calming, beatific feel, with 'Nah It Ain't The Same' tugging at matters personal. She comments: “Deliberations of a (hu) MAN, subject to the pendulum's swing, I give you ‘Nah It Aint The Same’ off my album MAN MADE. An expression and exploration of my utter confusion and inner conflicts amidst shifting paradigms.” Greentea Peng stars in the new video, with Machine Operated sculpting the video. [via Clash]

renforshort has debuted a brand new single, ‘virtual reality’. The first taster of a forthcoming second EP, the track sees her “connect” with Kellen Pomeranz (Pom Pom), Jesse Fink and Beabadoobee collaborator Pete Robertson. “’virtual reality’ is a song that tackles many topics. But at its core, it really is about anxiety, routine, boredom, isolation, loneliness, and fear,” she explains. “I think a lot of people have a very unhealthy relationship with technology because it’s never really been restricted enough to consider mental health and overall health, and that has fucked so many people up, now more than ever. Ever since I was young, social media has played a major role in my mental wellbeing, and I became so accustomed to it, it became a part of my routine and it came before everything else. The moment I wake up, almost instinctively, I check my phone. Depending on what I see in the morning, basically determines how I’m gonna feel for the rest of the day. I hate it. But I can’t stop. And what’s most ironic about this all is you’re likely going to read this on social media or listen to the song on some sort of electronic device…” [via Dork]

Flock of Dimes has shared the second single from her forthcoming album Head of Roses, out April 2 via Sub Pop. Following recent single, 'Two', 'Price of Blue' is another standout from Wasner’s second solo LP, an album that showcases her ability to embrace new levels of vulnerability, honesty and openness, combined with the self-assuredness that comes with a decade-plus career as a songwriter, producer, multi-instrumentalist and prolific collaborator. It comes accompanied by an unearthly new video filmed in black and white, co-directed by Wasner with Graham Tolbert. Wasner says: “This song is about trying, and failing, to connect. It’s about the ways in which, despite our best efforts, we misunderstand each other, and become so attached to stories that we’re unable to see the truth that’s right in front of us. And it’s about the invisible mark that another person can leave on your body, heart and mind long after their absence. It can be difficult to make sense of the memory of your experience when the reality on the surface is always shifting—when the story you’re telling, or the story you’ve been told, unravels, leaving you with a handful of pieces and no idea how they used to fit together.”

Berlin-based indie-soul five-piece, People Club, announce their new EP Take Me Home, which is due May 7 and the band are sharing the title-track and new video. The title track 'Take Me Home' is a song about the realisation of mortality in old age and the cynicism that often plights the elderly after losing their loved ones and being left alone with their regrets. It is accompanied by a music video shot by long standing collaborator, Felix Spitta. Speaking of the process the band say, “Once again we worked with our very talented friend, Felix Spitta, who also shot the video for our last single Francine.  We basically spent a day fooling around at his house with a smoke machine and an old tape TV camera with a red filter.  The result is hazy and disorientating, just like this year has been so far.”

Introducing MARY., the dreamy alter-ego of musician and songwriter Stef T. The self-produced debut track, ‘Day to Day’, interlaces elements of electro-pop and R&B with a voice that enchants, along with an official video filmed, edited and directed by David Risdon and Charlie Rose Creative. Reading like a page in a diary, ‘Day to Day’ offers a candid and emotionally raw glance at being overlooked as a woman in a man’s world. She is put together, glamorous and poised on the outside, but on the inside she is simmering like a pot ready to boil over, fed-up and on the brink of snapping. Speaking of the track, Stef T explains, “’Day to Day’ is a reflection on what it is to be a woman in a role where you are always unseen; constantly giving yet never receiving. As woman, we are often undervalued for our day to day work in all aspects - as mothers, in relationships, in our careers; having to push extra hard to get the basic recognition and thanks that we are entitled to. This song is a commentary of a large part of my life where I settled, sacrificed and worked, only to be used and taken for granted. It is about learning to survive a toxic relationship, discover your own individual worth again and reclaim the power that you gave away to someone else. Producing this song myself is the only thing that made sense in context with the intention of MARY. as a project. She is an entirely self made, independent woman, who does it all and doesn't need a man to confirm that she's doing a good job. This is something I have personally struggled with, so I created the MARY. persona to feel more empowered in my storytelling as an artist, in an industry without a large visible number of female-identifying producers.”

Los Angeles based dream pop trio Tashaki Miyaki have just released a single and video of the title song from their forthcoming second album, Castaway, which will be released on April 23 via Metropolis Records. Singer, drummer and producer Paige Stark states that the song “is about the challenges of romantic love and how we are all bad at it in one way or another. The idea of a castaway in all this is that no one understands the relationship except the people in it, so you really are stuck on an island alone together there. Maybe you make it back to the mainland, or maybe you stay on the island.” Stark also shot the Sofia Coppola-inspired video on film, adding: "I wanted to tap into all the feelings that can come up in love relationships: anger, sadness, loneliness, vulnerability, stillness, joy, romance, longing. The actress in it has a beautifully expressive face and I've known her for a long time. I knew we would be able to create those moments together. I wanted it to feel like the camera was her lover, capturing her in various private moments, moods and feelings.”

With her Vanilla Shell EP celebrating its one-year anniversary last month, Danish-Chilean composer Molina is back with another abbreviated record in the form of the new single 'Cold,' featuring vocalist Jonas Bjerre, arriving with a pair of B-sides. The brief collection of songs continues her simultaneous journey inward toward the roots of Chilean music and outward into her own unique vision of the future. The project lands with a video for the A-side, which dreams up bizarre fantasy iconography in the tradition of Grimes and Björk to complement her subdued take on these artists’ out-there recordings. Blending ambiguous electronic sounds with the familiar drone of cello and Bjerre’s backing vocals, the track’s distinct persona may have more in common with the experimental soundscapes of artists like Jenny Hval or Julia Holter. [via Flood]

Maisie Peters has debuted her brand new single, ‘John Hughes Movie’. Described as the first single from her soon to be announced debut album, it’s a song about unrequited love, inspired by the legendary film producer and his classic coming-of-age teen comedies like The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. The track comes alongside a video co-written by Maisie and director Louis Bhose (Loyle Carner, Arlo Parks, Lewis Capaldi). Maisie explains: “I wrote ‘John Hughes Movie’ when I was 17 about a house party that I had gone to. It’s a really honest depiction of being a hopeless, melodramatic teenager, being awkward and drunk and getting your heart broken by people you don’t even remember anymore. John Hughes films encapsulate that foolish romantic energy of high school and everything that I, a small town English wannabe Molly Ringwald wanted to be, but was not.” [via Dork]

Chloe x Halle have shared the music video for their song 'Ungodly Hour.' The video was debuted on Wedneday night's episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and shows the Bailey sisters going underwater for a sci-fi-style visual filled with choreography and elaborate adventures at the bottom of the ocean. Watch the Alfred Marroquín-directed video above. [via The FADER]

South London's Josie Man has returned with sentimental new single 'Cuts & Bruise', marking her first release of 2021. 'Cuts & Bruises' follows October 2020's 'Grow' single, and is accompanied by a Andrea Mae-directed video that shows couples enjoying tender moments, including Josie Man and her boyfriend. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Jessie Ware has shared a new short film for her song 'Remember Where You Are'. Her album What's Your Pleasure? arrived last year, a disco-fuelled missile that presented some much-needed good vibes amid lockdown. The songwriter returns to the record for her song 'Remember Where You Are', a soulful and uplifting slice of UK songwriting. There's now a full video for the song and it's steered by BAFTA winning director Dominic Savage. Starring British actress Gemma Arterton, it opens on Valentine's Day and finds the star wandering through deserted London streets. A glimpse of hope and renewal, it taps into the growing feeling that this time, lockdown might be coming to a permanent end. "It was a real pleasure to collaborate with Jessie and Gemma on this short film that is inspired by Jessie Ware’s beautiful music. It was also inspired by the real feeling that was felt when we filmed in the deserted streets of eerily strange lockdown London on a Saturday night/Sunday morning,” Dominic said. “The feelings and emotions in the film are a true reflection of what that felt like, and what this time invokes. Sadness, nostalgia, pain and defiance. But when we climbed Primrose Hill and the sun started to rise above the city, there was real hope and joy for a future that will surely be ours. Listening to Jessie’s music. There is no doubt of that." Jessie adds... "This song has always meant a lot to me and I was determined for other people to hear it and for it to be single. I am so touched by how many people have embraced this song, particularly when it's one of your favourite actresses and an acclaimed film director. Working with Gemma, Dominic and their team has been an absolute joy. To have them realise my song with a beautiful ode to London and the longing for human touch and interaction couldn't be more of a compliment. It's a truly cherished piece of work." [via Clash]

Jaguar Jonze has shared her new single and video 'CURLED IN' ahead of the release of her second EP ANTIHERO on April 16, both via Nettwerk Records. 'CURLED IN' presents all her best qualities at its outset. From the track’s rip-roaring, slicing guitar to her perfectly forceful, omnipresent vocals, 'CURLED IN' is a pure cathartic release. "Tear me apart, just tear me apart," she all but demands: "I've never seen wrong be done right." She's fulfilling her simplest needs, and it's freeing. "It's a bit of a twist for me to be a masochist." As a survivor of abuse, these words' unafraid power is all too apparent and an engaging statement to hear expressed.

Following the release of eclectic and impressive debut singles 'ASOS,' 'Right Time,' and 'Papercut,' rising left-of-center pop singer and songwriter Dava returns with a fresh and bold new single 'New Ceilings' available now via Sony Music's Disruptor Records. The moody anti-pop record was co-written by Dava and Mike Adubato (Del Water Gap, Grace VanderWaal) who also produced the track, and is the latest off the Los Angeles-based musician's forthcoming debut EP, Sticky, due out later this year. On the inspiration behind her new single, Dava shares, "This song was written about survival and staying true to yourself. I was having a hard time financially after moving to LA and my phone was shut off while on my way to this session. I was upset with myself for prioritizing music when I really needed the money from driving Uber to stay afloat." She continues, "The day I wrote 'New Ceilings' I was angry and I wanted a song that felt empowering and validated all the work I had put in up to that point. I ended up choosing different songs for my project but when I revisited this one year later, I felt it needed to be heard because of how authentically it embodies my struggle."

London-based Fifi Rong, a multi-talented avant-pop songstress, has shared the video for her stunning single, ‘Another Me’. Directed by Rok Pat, the video for ‘Another Me’ is stylistically simplistic, as Fifi Rong uses her own body as a medium of art, painting herself and inviting the simple imagery of waterside reeds and plants. A tranquil mysticism embraces the single as Fifi Rong acts as a gentle siren, luring the unsuspecting in yet known the inevitable outcome of the relationship. Speaking of the concept behind the single and video, Fifi Rong tells us: “In any doomed romance, timing is always mysteriously wrong. This is my first full CGI music video and it visually portrays the elusive nature of the character surrounding the key message: 'you won't find another me'. The undertone of the song displays a sense of pride and confidence in the character’s melancholy. Dressed in nothing but petals, I wanted my character to symbolise purity, nature, truthfulness, vulnerability and the divine feminine form. Acting as a rotating statue, I wanted to mark the passing of time and seasons as if a unique and lonely piece of art on display.”

[autistic-paul]

When It's Over

Summary:

Everyone in Hatchetfield has their own way of coping with everything that happened, and Paul understands that. Everyone is okay, really. Paul and Emma are doing just fine.

Tags: Paulkins, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Post-Canon, Post-Apotheosis, Post-cure, Slime

Read it on AO3, or under the cut! 1967 words.

Hatchetfield wasn’t exactly known for being a strong, tight-knit community. If someone was struggling, it was their problem. Everyone has their own issues, why exert effort into helping others? Paul thought maybe it’d be different when everyone had the same issue. The same trauma. He had hope for his hometown. Emma scoffed when he told her that he’d expected something to come of it. She knew better. It was Hatchetfield, the same one she’d always known.

A single support group had sprung up. Some kind-hearted soul trying to bring people together after everything that had happened. Paul and Emma passed the fliers from time to time a couple of weeks before the first meeting. They seemed to disappear. Paul was sure there’d been one on the window of Beanie’s, Emma said she couldn’t recall. What did it matter? There wasn’t one now. Paul couldn’t remember what the date was supposed to be. Not like he’d go, anyway. Silly, to expect more of Hatchetfield when he was no better than anyone else. Paul was a Hatchetfield resident, born and bred. If anyone went to the group, he didn’t hear about it.

It was fine, he thought. A tearful sharing of experiences, of grief, wasn’t Hatchetfield’s style! They had their ways. Nods on the sidewalk between people who should have been strangers, but now shared a memory, a tune they could never quite get out of their heads. The steps to a dance they would never perform again. The collective agreement that they could do without music for the time being. The Hatchetfield news was safe. It took some getting used to, hearing the morning news followed by silence and dissonant static. That static seemed to follow everyone. The absence of music, the refusal to talk about it.

Beanie’s got rid of the bell on the door. Of course, now whenever people came in for their coffee the employees jumped. Everyone was jumpy, these days. Any unexpected noise was startling, and it was common to apologize for it. Paul was almost used to those rapid turns, the frantic eyes scanning for danger before settling as they saw it was just him. He could almost tune it out.

The streets were silent. Hurried footsteps as everyone followed their routines echoed against the buildings, too casual discussions merely whispers carried on the wind. Paul understood. He understood the need to keep things quiet. The voices in his head were loud enough as it was. Words to songs he shouldn’t know. A constant beat tapping against the inside of his skull, reverberating down his spine. Colonel Schaffer said that was fine. It’d go away, someday, it was just memory. His body and mind had been through hell, it was just trying to recover. He wasn’t alone, she said.

But wasn’t he? Emma didn’t want to talk about it. He’d tried to, leaning against the wall as she absentmindedly searched through the fridge. Paul didn’t know why, they’d just eaten. She seemed to be looking for something. Something to do, maybe. Paul had spent ages running through the speech in his mind, mumbling them in the shower, making sure he could get a true discussion going without breaking down. It was all for nothing. The words ran together, gelling and sticking in his throat as he watched Emma pull out a jar, reading the label and absorbing none of it, her fingers shaking slightly. Paul took a deep breath. I want to talk about what happened, he’d say. I want to talk about what I did to you. I want to talk about the things we saw. The silence around us and the cacophony in our heads. I hurt you. How can you stand to look at me? I want to talk, and I want things to get better. He had so much to say. He just had to say it. He could feel every unspoken word on the tip of his tongue. Burning, aching in his throat. He just had to let them out.

“Emma, I’m sorry.”

Emma froze, and Paul’s blood turned to ice. He hadn’t meant to speak exactly those words, that phrase. It was just that damn song, the one that followed him wherever he went. He opened his mouth to correct himself, say what he meant to. Emma placed the jar on the counter, glass hitting so hard that Paul flinched. Her eyes were hollow, as she looked at him, a cold, blank stare that reminded him of radio static, of the swish of doors opening unannounced.

Paul didn’t bring it up again. Emma certainly didn’t. They talked about safe topics. About work. About their pasts. They didn’t talk about it when Paul was startled awake at three in the morning by Emma’s sobbing, he just held her closer, pressing his eyes closed so tightly that it hurt. They didn’t talk about it when Emma shook him awake, Paul waking with a gasp, his lips dry as if he’d been talking for ages, the next lyric resting in his mouth. He just swallowed it down and squeezed her hand. They didn't talk about it.

This was recovery, perhaps. Hatchetfield wasn’t going to come together anytime soon, but the solemn nods were a group effort. The lack of acknowledgment was a sort of recognition in itself. Everyone was dealing with the same thing, Paul was sure. They’d be fine. They’d all move on. The tension in the air would dissipate.

It only seemed to get thicker day after day, but Paul was convinced it had to peak at some point. He didn’t know what that meant, what would happen if it did, but anything had to be better than this. Day after day, pointedly ignoring the noises in their heads. Night after night, waking to moonlight pouring through the window and illuminating their pale, sweat-soaked faces. Paul got up, careful not to jostle Emma on the other side of the bed, though he knew she was awake. Always so careful not to jostle her. He’d come back to her soon, but his thoughts were a scrambled mess, tangled and knotted, and the longer he lay there, the louder they grew. The bathroom light hurt his eyes, leaving spots for him to squint away. Some cold water would help. Shock him awake, give his unfocused mind some clarity.

Paul stiffened, looking down into the sink. The white porcelain was marred by a faint blue splatter. It was small, nothing more than a droplet. Paul shuddered. It was two in the morning, he was still half asleep. Paul turned on the faucet once more, watching it dilute into nothing, swirling down the drain. He closed his eyes and breathed, a deep inhale that did nothing to calm his nerves. There was nothing there. Opening his eyes again was a struggle, they wanted to stay closed.  

The drop was still there. The same spot, he was convinced it was the same size. It was supposed to be gone. Another drop took its place beside the first. Another. They spread like a cancer, one drop after another, dropping from his face, sliding over his lips, his chin, and Paul couldn’t breathe, couldn’t bear to look up and see what he dreaded. What would he see if he looked in the mirror? Cold, unrecognizable eyes, blue crusted in the corner of his mouth. Pale, lifeless skin. Blue stained teeth and lips stretched into a forced grin. An image that shouldn't be familiar, but would be, if he dared to look up and greet it. He wouldn't. He couldn't make himself look.

Paul’s arm shot out to the tissues, grabbing at them frantically, more than he could possibly need and shoving them to his face. It was fine. It was just a nosebleed. He was asleep. He was hallucinating. Anything but this. His heart thundered in his ears, a beat so loud he was sure Emma would hear it.

Emma.

He had to make it stop. There was nothing wrong. He wouldn't allow anything to be wrong.

In his panic, Paul's gaze flicked up towards his reflection, and he cried out into the mass of tissues at his nose. His eyes were flooding with blue fluid, pooling at the corners, slowly trailing down his cheeks. Faster and faster, a steady stream to drip into the sink and soak into the wad of tissues. It wasn’t enough, he couldn’t stop it, he was helpless and alone and he couldn’t see through the blue clouding his vision as he stumbled back, letting the thoroughly soaked tissues fall to the ground. His back hit the wall hard, he’d underestimated how small the room was. Paul slid down to the floor, and he was sure if he looked, he’d see a trail. A handprint, a splatter on the floor. He was contaminated, everything he touched would leave evidence of what he'd become. What he'd always been.

He couldn’t hide his sobs anymore, and he knew it was seeping out of him faster the more he cried. Shudders wracked his body, as he repeatedly wiped the slime off of his face with his bare hands, feeling it slip between his trembling fingers. What was the point in trying to soak it up? It would never stop. Paul choked as it filled up his throat, gasping for breath. His lungs were on fire, sucking in air that didn’t exist, pulling in more and more of the poisonous unearthly fluid. It soaked through his clothes, flowing freely over his lips, out of his ears. The lights were still blinding, and Paul pulled himself into a ball in the corner, pressing his face into his knees so hard it hurt, still trying to breathe, to block out the world around him.

He didn’t know how long he was there, it felt like an eternity, but the second he felt a hand rest on his cheek he gasped, jerking back, knocking his head on the wall. Emma dropped her hand, and Paul was grateful, though he missed the warmth the second her comforting fingers left his skin. She shouldn’t touch him, he didn’t want to see her untainted hands splattered with blue. She needed to run. She wasn’t safe. He opened his mouth to express that, tell her to flee from him, but choked on another sob. It was still so thick in his throat. Emma caught his eyes, and her lip quivered. Yes, Paul thought. She could see what had become of him, maybe she’d have time to go before he lost control entirely. Maybe this time he wouldn't hurt her.

Emma didn’t leave. She didn’t jerk away in terror. Emma simply leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his tightly bound form, pressed her forehead onto his shoulder. Paul’s panic dissipated, though he knew he should be terrified. Why wasn’t she running? Why was she simply holding him, pulling him closer and closer? She was speaking, and Paul realized she must have been for a while.

“We’re going to be okay, alright? We will be. We can get through this.” She sounded so sure of herself, her words strong, and Paul could feel his muscles relaxing, the stiffness seeping out of his body. His movements were nearly mechanical as he returned the affection, holding her nearly as tightly as she was holding him. She wasn't scared of him. Paul exhaled shakily. No, things weren’t okay. Not at all. They didn’t know how to begin setting things right again. But this could be a start. They could try. Paul held Emma close to him, taking in her warmth, her certainty. Not a drop fell from his lips as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Nothing stained her skin. Paul closed his eyes, letting the perfectly clear, perfectly human tears run down his face.

[dat-town]

wish upon the sea

Characters: prince!Brian (Young K) & siren!You

Setting: a bit darker, twisted Little Mermaid au

Genre: romance, action, fantasy

Warnings: mentions of blood, death

Words: 5.7k

Author’s notes: I use the name Brian since Young K in this story is supposed to be the son of Prince Eric and Ariel, so a Korean name would have been weird, hopefully you won’t mind.

Dedicated: happy birthday, my dearest @restlessmaknae! ♥♥♥ I cannot put into words the happiness that feels me becausee of the close bond we share and that we can live through so many wonderful experience together. Thank you for letting me be not just a big sister but a best friend as well. Wish you all the best and welcome to the club among the girls in their 20s! Love ya! ♥

Once upon a time there was a prince who fell in love with a mermaid.

It was a truly heart-fluttering love story, everyone in the kingdom found Ariel lovely and kind-hearted despite her clumsiness and Prince Eric was often jokingly called a lucky bastard to have her by his side.

In a few years the couple had a child, a boy with charms like his dad’s and hair as red as the brightest coral in the sea just like his mom’s. The boy grew up to be a fine swordsman, a chevalier with the softness of the waves of seas on calm spring days. He was a good man, people said, everyone loved their handsome and kind prince and so many daughters wished to be the lucky one to have that golden heart of his. However, the prince's heart was already taken, swimming in fondness for the endless blues as he fell in love with the sea.

Ever since he was a little boy, Prince Brian and the sea were inseparable. As the castle was built on a shore not too far from the water, growing up he had spent a lot of time there playing in the sand, swimming, searching for pearls underwater. He liked the calmness and rhythmical waves coming to stroke his ankle as his feet sank into the mud, he liked the wildness of it when storms were raging over in the open fields and he liked that it had its borders but seemed to sweep through everywhere reaching every part of the world. There was something – something unexplainable and mysterious – about this giant of a sassy lady that attracted him and never let him go. He was under its spell and couldn't escape even if he wanted to.

No wonder he decided to join the royal marines as soon as he finished his training at the Academy. Being a sailor himself, his father (being the king by that time) was proud of him and supported his choice even if it meant the prince being away, on the open waters under the sparkling stars most of the time. But from time to time he came home, just like the tide always returned. He found his way back to the place where he fell for the depth and beauty of the sea.

He often found himself on the sandy beach by the water, watching it change various colours under the sunset. Sometimes he just watched it from the castle and certain times he wasn't even alone.

"Do you miss it?" he asked staring ahead at the endless sea as he stood next to his mother on the balcony. Her long red hair was decorated with jewellery made from sea shells and her locks swirled in the gentle night breeze behind her back. She had that kind of longing in her eyes that the prince couldn't understand until he didn't experience homesickness during his travels. There was no regret in those eyes, just a soft kind of sadness of losing something precious to gain another.

"It's hard not to when the sea calls for me constantly," Queen Ariel said in a gentle voice, almost like a sigh and her son couldn't even imagine the loss she felt. When she had given up on her tail to get legs, it hadn’t been the only thing she willingly let go off.

The sea's rules were strict. You couldn't turn your back on it without paying a price and every merbeing knew what it meant to leave their home behind: they could never go back.

So the prince was curious and he had matured a lot during his overseas training. Hence, he dared to ask the question he never asked out loud before.

"Do you regret it?" he whispered with eyes trained on the azure waves he loved so much.

He had been travelling throughout the Seven Seas for years now but he hadn't had the chance to stumble upon any merbeing like the ones told in his mother's tales. But her family, as she called the tribe, had always been a careful one, avoiding being in the centre of attention until Ursula's short but deadly rule. By now there was peace over the waters again.

"Choosing your father over being a mermaid? No. It's not regret. I only wish there would have been another way," the Queen shook her head staring ahead. Her honey voice was filled with nostalgia and melancholy. "But the sea is a selfish creature, a jealous lover. You can never win against it."

The prince hummed, knowing. This was a lesson he had been taught ever since he was young. He was warned to be always wary of the sea as what it gave, it could take it away just as easily. And yet, there was something out there that attracted him like flame enchanted the butterflies, he had always found his way back to it.

"Will you leave again, son?" Ariel turned her back on the stormy waves and stroke a smooth hand over the young man's face. The red locks he had got after her created a great contrast against the dark night even under the white moonlight. He was as bright as fire in the darkness.

"As soon as the maps are ready," he nodded firmly, worry evident in his eyes as he looked over the horizon. "There are more and more pirate ships around the border. We need to show them they can't hang around here. They should leave."

Politics had been a mess but the ongoing, endless wars against the Pirate Nation had been even worse. There was nothing they could negotiate with. The pirates lived for spilling blood, they weren't satisfied with anything, they always wanted more and more. More money, more freedom, more blood in the oceans. But Brian wasn't just going to let them win.

"Be careful," the Queen patted his cheek with the softest smile only mothers could make because no matter how old her son was, he was still her giggling little boy who had played with crabs and little fish in the ankle-high water by the beach.

"As always, mom," Brian promised, leaning his head into the motherly touch.

Cold breeze passed between them, bringing the forecasting of something bad coming from the sea but neither of them listened. Humans never did.

The sea wasn't a graveyard just for wrecked ships and poor souls but for broken promises and lost loves too. It had buried more than human recollection could hold onto.

And soon, you were going to join the ruins under, you were sure of it.

Handcuffed to the mast out in the open pirate ship, close but still so far away from your precious sea, you already felt like dying. Your human legs had become awfully dry due to the lack of water and every movement hurt as the blood in your veins got warmer than normal. Fever did no good to you as you leaned your sweaty forehead against the wood. Closing your eyes you imagined swimming home without a care. You really didn't want to think of all the possibilities of being sold or that they would scrap the scales off of your tail. Pirates didn't treat you as a woman even if only one huge man shirt was thrown over your bare, lithe body. In their eyes, you were an animal, being half-fish, half-human. They had big mouth, spits and swear words but their eyes couldn't lie. You saw it in their eyes, the fear and the attraction humans had towards mermaids, your unearthly beauty. But without your power, without your song, you were nothing but a tied up barely girl, useless and harmless. You hated being so weak.

"Ship on the horizon!" someone hollered in terrible dialect from the ship's bow and it was enough to stir up the waters around. Pirates all around you got their lazy asses up and with weapons in hands they rushed to prepare the ship for an attack.

"'Capt’ it's the Royal Marines," another one cried out as the three ships became more distinguishable in far-sight.

"Of course, they are," the wood-legged man snorted in disgust but the grin on his ugly face only showed satisfaction. This was just what he wanted, that was why they came here in the first place: to demolish the King's navy. Or at least his precious son and only heir. Victory could never taste as sweet as a revenge upon those who took everything from him.

Being so tired and weak, you were barely able to realize what was going on until someone splashed water into your face and shrieking you awakened from your half-lulled dream.

"The show must begin, little songbird. Are you ready to sing?" the Captain grinned at you, yellow teeth on full display as he was panting so close to your face. Disgusted, you turned your head away.

Or at least, you would have turned it but then suddenly you were yanked onto your wobbly feet by your chains and you almost fell onto your knees being ever so weak in your human legs you never really learned how to use.

"Now listen to me, doll," the pirate continued on, as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes, dark as the deepest pits of the sea. "Don't even think about escaping, I will kill you before you could leave the 100 meter radius of this ship. You just need to awake a storm and sing a pretty song to the sailors coming at us, okay? If you do a good job, then maybe I will reward you or if I'm feeling generous I might even let you go. What about that?"

"I- I cannot sing..." you croaked out, voice hoarse from being kept like a dog for days now. Without water you barely survived, how could he think you were still able to do what he wanted you to?

"Oh, silly girl, you think I don't know that?" the man huffed out and tossed you a huge canne of water. You were like a lunatic on verge of dying because of thirst based on the way you caught on that. You gulped down the oh so sweet, salty sea water and you felt your blood buzzing in excitement. Power, finally.

"Now sing!" the captain ordered once all his men put something into their ears to dull your enchanting voice. This way it couldn't affect. You grimaced at the smart move and when you were dragged to the side of the ship, you opened your mouth to sing.

Whenever you let that lulling melody fall from the tip of your tongue, you felt powerful, almost invincible. But now, you could barely hit the right tones. You thought you wouldn’t be able to summon anything at this rate but the sea, taking pity on you, started stirring up around the ship, clouds darkening above and the first drops of rain felt like a miracle on your dry skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath before starting that song again, the one that allured so many sailors into the loving arms of death.

The three ships of navy got closer in the meantime and the first roar of cannon made you tremble. The second made you fall as the pirate holding on your chains lost his balance and pulled you with him. Out of breath, you collapsed onto the wood board. You couldn't keep up. That much of water after being dried under the Sun didn't even give you enough strength to transform back into your full form. You could barely answer to the pull of the sea by finding your voice and that sweet melody.

You stopped singing, pushing him away as his hands grabbed on your shirt to stop you from escaping. Not like you could go far away with those metals around your ankle and the ties around your wrists but at least you wouldn’t be a puppet on string in a useless fight. You couldn’t wait for the ship to sink anyway.

“Why did you stop singing, little birdie?” The pirate clicked his tongue, following you to the mast where you tried to get the chain off in vain. He grabbed on your waist hauling you up.

“I’m not your songbird,” you gritted your teeth, angry, feeling the power of sea so close. You knew it had your back. You were so so mad, you could have killed this pirate with bare hands, only if you’d had your powers!

Everybody was running around on the ship, cannons fire shots, the ship tilted to one side and then the other as it got closer and closer to the maelstrom created closeby. You knew the power of the sea, a vortex like this could drag down whole armadas. A few pirate ships and three navy ones were like a children play.

You hung onto the mast as the navy ship got next to the one you were on in the next circle it took down the spiral. You kicked and hit until the pirate had to put you down and when he tried to lay his dirty hands on you again, you bit into his finger and just as he screamed in pain, you wrapped your own ties around his neck and squeezed it as long as you heard him breathe. Just another dead body as a sacrifice to the sea, you have seen them fall one by one anyway. The marines obviously overpowered them but you didn’t care about the gunshots and the screams and the blood spilling all around. You tried to get rid of your chains with trembling hands.

"There's a girl here! Help, they kept a girl as a hostage!" Someone hovered over you out of the blue. With a knife in one hand, he made a quick job with the rope tie around your hands, getting those off of your bruised wrists but you couldn’t help but flinch when the cold metal touched your skin and for a moment you thought he was going to dig it deep into your still heart. However, he hadn’t touch you like this, his eyes quickly skimmed through your body until he find the metal cage around your bare ankle. Only when he finished getting rid of the chain, you looked up at the stranger.

Marks of the battle were evident on his features in red split lines but his hands were warm and gentle as he covered you with his own jacket probably thinking you were cold in that thin shirt thrown upon you. He put a hand over the small of your back, pulling you up by the elbow with the other. He treated you as if you were fragile, harmless... human.

As if he was a mere fever dream you could only blink at him in awe, at his hair shining like the ardent, burning-hot colour of the sunset, so different from your own ink-like locks. And his eyes, those brown orbs, even with the fighter spirit in them, were so warm even your cold, cold heart felt the tremble as your gazes met.

"You're safe now," he said oh so softly but how a naive soul he was! The battle wasn't over yet and if it were, it wouldn't have been you who had to be afraid. He had no idea what you were capable of, how many hearts you had taken already. He held you as you stared at him, the first one to help you in order to save you from a possible unfair death on a pirate ship and then another cannon ball slammed into the wooden body of the ship.

"Lieutenant, get out of there!" Someone from the other ship brushing so close to this yelled but it was too late.

The fire of the fiery shot had already reached the gunpowder under the deck and it exploded like magical fireworks in the sky. The whole ship shook with the power of it, the wooden floor collapsed beneath you and the two of you fell into the water amongst the ruins of the pirate ship.

As soon as your skin made contact with the salty sea water, it felt like rebirth. Life was breathed into your burning lungs and you finally arrived home. You felt the scars heal, the bleeding stop and in the dark water lit by the orange of fire, you transformed: human legs got colour, covered by turquoise scales. Golden dots tainted tail and breast covered by finlike pattern, you got rid of the shirt and jacket to take a deep breath from the oxygen-filled water.

There were so many different feelings in you that wanted to break out. Anger, happiness and sadness all alike. You wanted to avenge what these pirates did to you but they were doomed to die anyway, the sea, the Mighty, was just as angry as you were. On the other hand you were finally free, you could have just swimmed away, away from this madness not looking back. But as you made the first movement to leave, you saw him, the soldier, the lieutenant who helped you, his body slowly sunk under as his muscles were on the verge of fighting against his lungs screaming for oxygen. He didn't deserve to die, that much was sure. He was caring and understanding even if he didn't know you. He was the first to treat you like a human being and as you watched him close his eyes, hands reaching for the surface, you couldn't just let him die. Not like that.

In a span of a moment, you decided against your life instincts. It wasn't usual for your kind to be kind to humans, much less saving them. But he deserved so much more than being another dead body in the sea among those ruthless pirates. You swam up to him until your bodies collided, flesh against flesh. He looked vulnerable and fragile now with his eyes clothes, body heavy as the sea pulled him down. You filled your lungs with oxygen and pressed your mouth against his, forcing his lips open so you could exhale the sweet air into his screaming lungs.

A kiss of the Sea.

When Prince Brian awakened he didn’t know where he was and how he got there.

Prying his eyes open he could see sand and palm trees, faintly he heard the murmurs of the sea. It didn’t take too much time to figure out that he was washed up to a beach after he fell into the water. With that realization, memories came back to him about the storm, the pirates, the fight and… the girl! He certainly remembered a pure-looking girl with hair like the darkest night and eyes like coal that heat up the castle back home. He wondered what her came to be, whether she survived the shipwreck and he wished to know where the rest of his crew was. He remembered falling into the sea after the explosion but if he had survived, they had to be alive as well, right? They were probably out looking for him.

He sat up, head hurting from the sudden movement but as he looked up at the shore he immediately knew where he was.

Home.

Up there he saw the castle and away a bit there was their bay. He somehow got to the beach he used to play at as a child when he was miles and miles away fighting pirates. Just how long he had been out? How long the sea had carried him on its back? How was this even possible? He wondered but thanked every deity that he had gotten home safely, so he could keep his promise made to his mother.

A moment later a dark shadow moved behind a huge rock by the beach and the prince immediately sprang to his feet.

“Hey, wait! Yes, you, please...” he yelled at the stranger, voice pleading because he had this gut feeling that there was something very important there. When the shadow didn’t move, neither closer, nor farther away, he took tentative steps by the seaside to approach the rock. Just as he passed by the rock, he noticed a girl in the water, the same from the pirate ship with her warm eyes and dark locks, but there was something different about her. At first, his eyes fell upon the naked shoulders of her, her long hair spreading all around her on the surface of the water, then he realized that the most outstanding of it all was the blue of her skin, the gill opening on her neck and the scattered golden scales along her body.

“You… you are a mermaid,” he whispered in awe suddenly remembering all the tales his mother had told him. His miraculous appearance here also made more sense because of it.

“I just wanted to make sure you are alive,” she said in a dulcet voice as if it was natural. He was actually glad she stayed and not just because she was the first mermaid (apart from his own mother of course) he had the chance to meet. He was indeed grateful.

“Did you bring me all the way here?” he asked and she simply nodded, watching him curiously. Brian wondered whether she found him just as interesting as he found her. It wasn’t because she wasn’t human but because she acted like one. Even his mother told him that her kind was brought up by the ruthless sea itself, so they believed in kill or to be killed. Befriending and saving humans was something that went against their own ethical codex. In some tribes it even meant betrayal, yet she took the risk for him, so he felt immense gratitude.

“Thank you,” he told her, words genuine even though he wasn’t sure she understood what it meant for him and why he wanted to know more about her. “Do you oft–”

He wanted to know if she visited this shore regularly, whether they had a chance to meet again, whether she would be up for a talk but life had got in-between.

“Your Highness!” a royal guard hollered and the mermaid swam away with the sound of quick flacks on the sea’s surface following her.

The prince looked after her, at the wavy sea, yearning for something even his heart couldn’t name.

You tried your best to forget him, to not miss him but all in vain. Once you were back with your tribe, you told them about your capture, the fight and how you escaped. It was hard not to tell them about the handsome prince who was there too but it would have been a stupid move on your part telling them that you blessed him with the gift of Sea. Not all of them would have been so understanding.

It was a silly thing, wasn't it? Being so enamoured with someone despite barely knowing anything about them. All you knew was that he was kind-hearted and not disgusted by your type. From a human, it was more than enough.

So you caught yourself hanging around the beach more, his beach to be more precise. He liked to take early morning jogs there - you definitely did not stare - and late night walks. Most of the times he was alone, sometimes he was with a beautiful, elder lady, hair similar to his. You were sure she was his mother but the most surprising thing was that it felt as if she was the part of the ocean too. It was a fading feeling but it was there and for a moment you couldn't believe but could it been? That the legends about the mermaid who became human were true? It would have explained why he behaved so naturally around her and why his crew was prepared enough to not get affected by her song. Everything made much more sense like this and it only added to your growing fascination with him.

You wondered whether the Sea adored or cursed at him? The child of one that got away, one that turned away from the depth? He seemed to be fine on water, he seemed rather fond of it, spending so much time around it, so you were pretty certain he also felt that pull that bind you to your home. It was just another symptom of homesickness.

After a week or so, you saw the prince getting abroad again, proud as the Lieutenant on a new ship heading towards South. You followed them from a certain distant and watched him. You told yourself it was because you didn't want him to stumble upon your tribe but actually your heart yearned for something even you couldn't explain. Maybe you wanted those soft eyes on you again, his gentle touch and kind words. You really weren't sure.

But it seemed like the Sea listened to your untold prayers when a storm came, a powerful one as you felt it in your fibers, the waves crashing to every rock with a power so harsh you trembled. It gave you an excuse to step out of the shadows under the moonlight, when almost everyone was sleeping on the ship. You had seen the prince walk back and forth every night alone on the deck, so that day you waited for him.

You psted at him trying to get his attention when he indeed walked out from his cabin with a simple white shirt hanging from his wide-shouldered figure. He looked around confused then you let out a whisper again and he ran to the side of the ship looking down at the water, seeing you above the service.

"Oh so I was right about being followed!" He muttered but there was nothing negative in his voice only wonder. You didn't even expect him to but then he climbed over the fence after throwing down a rope ladder and he climbed down until his boots touched the surface of water.

"I didn't get your name last time," was the first thing he said and it's ridiculous.

"That's not what's important now," you argued as you held onto the ladder too to keep it up easier against the wild current. "There's a huge storm coming. You need to turn more West to not run into it."

That's it, that's what you wanted to tell him, it's time to go, you reminded yourself and let go off the rope but at his voice you turned back.

"Hey! Don't go," he whisper-yelled after you and he sounded desperate. You had never heard anyone talk to you like that. As if the mere thought of you leaving again had been painful for him. "Why are you helping us?"

"You helped me last time," you reasoned but the prince seemed both a bit doubtful and a bit hopeful.

"Is that it? Just this?"

His voice wasn't accusing but curious and it felt like as if he wanted it to be more. It made you smile.

"What else would be there?" You raised a brow playful and something similar reflected in his eyes too as he leaned closer, letting go of the rope with one hand. What a daring, reckless man he was!

"Don't you feel this pull?"

Oh the one like waves? The one that followed the moon? The gravity? That strange power that attracted you to him? Your smile was like a secret love song whispered to the Sea, yet he caught sight of it as you blushed under the milk honey coloured light.

"To the West. Don't forget, my Prince," you reminded him and swam away with your ever still heart beating crazily against your ribcage.

Of course, Brian listened to you. He had nothing to lose. The journey was a bit longer with that detour which meant a more cranky crew because of they ran out of food and rum sooner than expected. But at least everyone survived. Even like this, the ship was tossed around in the water by the waves that came from the darkened part on the ocean. He knew that if it hadn’t been for you, they would have gone straight to the danger zone. So he was grateful but also even more curious than before. You were more playful than he thought at first, but then again, you met on the rim of death, of course you weren't joking with him back then.

He still didn't know your name and he who had found so many treasures, who had fought so many pirates and enemies, he was determined to change that. So he lost more and more sleep in order to meet you. Because yes, he had caught sight of you some nights when the Moon was high in the sky and your tail shone in all colours of the rainbow. Then at some point, you stopped being shy and only watch the ship from afar, you swam closer and closer until he spent half of his nights sitting on that rope ladder talking to you.

Those midnight rendezvous became your favourite part of the days. Just to listen to him talk about his duties as the prince and lieutenant, his worries about his country, his dreams, places he wants to see. In exchange you told him about your life underwater, your sisters in the tribe and how peaceful the waters had been around here until the pirates came. It turned out you had a common enemy in those dirty men. Both of you wanted to get rid of them, so you offered your help. It was a pretty cool deal, though both of you knew it was just an excuse. The only setback was the danger itself but you had never been one to give into fear so easily. You wouldn't have been alone anyway. Spending time with the prince wasn't too bad either.

"So tomorrow?" you looked up at him one night knowing that the next day you would reach the Triangle of Cages, the bay of pirates where you were told not to be able to leave once you're inside. But you had the element of surprise with you and with your skills you could help the crew.

"Yeah. Tomorrow," the Prince sighed, looking up at the Moon. He had some kind of melancholy in his eyes and you could easily tell that he was worried. Nobody knew how many pirates would be there and he only had a little armada of three ships with around hundred of people. Pirates might have been uneducated and untrained but they were rough, had grown up on the Sea, so they were an enemy nobody should have underestimate.

"It's going to be okay," you told him even though you always hated these kind of cheap promises. It was a simple lie, because how could you know for sure what was going to happen? It was all in the hands of the Sea.

"But if it's not... I wanna give you something," he said, warmth swimming in his dark eyes as he took something out of his pocket. It was a bracelet made of little pearls, it was pretty. "My mother said it once belonged to the Sea. I want to return it," he said as he handed the accessory out for you.

"You want to give it to me?" you blinked at him surprised. You didn't expect him to be so sentimental.

"You're part of the Sea, aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow at you almost challengingly. You had a hard time suppressing a smile but in the meantime it was a situation so much more serious.

"You own a bit of it as well," just like from my heart.

The prince smiled down at you almost as if he knew what exactly you meant and he was gentle as he put the bracelet around your wrist, fingers drawing soft pattern onto the back of your hand as his fingers slipped off you. You immediately missed his warmth.

"I still don't know your name," he whispered which made you giggle. You pulled yourself upwards by the rope on his side and beckoned him closer with your index fingers. You looked him straight in the eyes as he leant closer, breath fanning over your lips as you whispered your name like a secret into the seam of his mouth.

At first he seemed a bit taken aback by your closeness but before you could have pulled back, playfully winking at him, he sneaked a hand behind your neck to keep you there. To hold you when his mouth slid over yours, chapped rum-flavoured lips tasting your salty ones. Your breath hitched before kissing him back, fingers slipping into his burgundy locks. You only pulled back when he almost lost his balance on the rope ladder and fell into the water with you. Both of your chuckles echoed in the night sky as the sea welcomed you back with wide arms, calm waves pulling you under. You waved before you swam under, hiding your blushed cheeks in the water.

By now, you were sure the Sea was just as enamoured with him as you were, you didn't worry about tomorrow.

Twice upon a time, a prince fell in love with a mermaid.

He never lost any more battles on the sea but he always yearned to be out there, under the stars, in her arms. He walked along the line marked with sea-washed wishes in the sand under his feet, never straying far. For once, you didn't have to take his heart because he offered willingly. He loved you more than the Sun and the Moon and all the stars, coming back to you whenever he could. So when this time his mother asked him: do you miss it? He didn't have to think of an answer, it was as sure as his heartbeat, deeply integrated in his system.

"I miss her as I would miss the air, constantly and solidly, always." He smiled but his smile was hopeful because you both knew that no matter how harsh the Sea was, it wasn't only a graveyard, it was also a cradle of your love. Of another love story of which word got around not just in the Kingdom but every wave of the ocean.

[athenadcvell]

If you're up for it, Stephen Strange and any brotp (I prefer friendship to romance lol). But any other character, common or rare, male or female, human or alien. Any genre from comedy to whump. I just really like Stephen. I need more Stephen.

@aelaer ... Hiiiiiiiii.... ok. So. I don’t even know if you remember making this request, but long story short, you probably made it near the end of July, or beginning of August. So ages ago. And me being me, I decided to postpone writing it until just now. Basically, I lost a lot of inspiration for writing and found it really hard to even sit in front of a computer, but I miss doing something I love, so I’m back and ready to write again. And I finally finished your ask, and I wanna say how sorry I am for taking so long. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 2,606

Warnings: None, unless you count angst and a little fluff

A/N: The brotp is Wong and Stephen, because I don’t think we get enough of their friendship and I thought this would be fun to do. Tbh I don’t think this is my best work because I’m trying to slowly get back into writing again, but I still tried really hard on this, so hopefully you enjoy :)

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So many things were wrong with today. Not just because today was today, but because of small, simple things that you don’t normally think about. The weather, for instance. It was too sunny. The clouds were too white and the sky was too blue. And that god awful sun. Why would it shine so brightly? 

The birds were chirping too cheerfully. The sang their meaningless songs of nature and serenity, not a clue what effect they were having on the humans around them. Don’t they have any respect? They wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for… 

Stephen closes his eyes slowly, trying (and failing) to block out those pestering thoughts. What good will it do now? What’s done is done. 

Today was the funeral of Anthony Edward Stark. A father. Husband. Mentor. 

A hero. A dead hero. 

And it’s Stephen’s fault. 

He can imagine what Christina would say if she were here. Hell, what Wong would say. 

“It’s not your fault, Stephen. It was the only way.” Or would they even say that? No one knows it was the only way except for him. No one else manipulated the time stone and underwent the millions of scenarios, only to find one that didn’t result in the world ending in a fiery ball of Thanos’ wrath. He’s the only one who will ever be burdened with this. With having to witness Earth being destroyed over and over and over… 

Stephen looks up, seeing the small silhouette of a little girl by the lake. The funeral ended about an hour ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. He should leave. Go back to the sanctum and get to work in rebuilding the chaos the world is left in at the moment. But he can’t bring himself to. 

Tony was his friend. Someone he had come to care for. Perhaps this Tony didn’t consider Strange a friend, however, Stephen considered all of them his friends and teammates. He had gone to hell and back with them fourteen million six hundred and five times. He had developed bonds, whether they knew it or not. 

Morgan Stark. The daughter of the man he… he what? Stephen didn’t kill Tony. Sure, he could have let the deceased remain deceased, however, eventually, another threat would come. He saw that. He saw the Avengers being slaughtered and humans being taken as slaves. He saw it all. This was the only way… right?

Stephen has to turn away from her. He can’t bear to look at this small child who can barely understand what is going on today. All she knows is that her father won’t be there to tuck her in tonight. And that kills Stephen. It lays an unearthly amount of guilt upon his shoulders. One man’s life for half of the universe shouldn’t be a difficult concept to accept. 

So why is he having such a hard time accepting that Tony Stark is really gone?

Stephen lets out a quiet sigh, turning away to walk into the woods. A walk, before he goes back. To clear his head. That’s what he needs right now. 

He doesn’t get far when a shadow appears in front of his feet. Raising a brow, the sorcerer follows the darkness of the shadow to its owner, slightly surprised to see Wong standing in front of him. For once, he’s dressed in something other than  his robes, adorning a simple black suit instead. 

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the sanctum?”

  “I left Master Awiti in charge,” Wong waves him off, hands clasped professionally behind his back. “Besides. I never did get my tuna melt.”

Stepehn stares at the sorcerer, dumbfounded. He can’t be serious?

“You’re telling me,” Stephen begins, raising a scrutinizing brow. “That in the last five years, you never bothered to buy a tuna melt?” Wong shrugs. 

“Everyone at the deli was dead.”

“Oh, so there were none other open?”

“Come, Let’s go get a sandwich,” Wong ignores his last question, opening a portal and stepping aside. Stephen rolls his eyes, nonetheless stepping through the circle crackling with golden sparks. 

“This place is still open?” Stephen questions quietly as they come to a halt in front of the deli. It was a continuous favorite of his. Even before all… this. Before the accident, when he was just a surgeon who was impeccably good at his job. 

“Yes,” Wong nods, walking ahead of him to enter the shop. Stephen runs a hand along his peppered hair, sighing once again and following after his friend. 

It’s a simple deli, with an array of meats on display in front of the cash register, and a few wooden benches to sit and eat on. After ordering and receiving their sandwiches, the two men take a seat by the window and dive in. 

Well, Wong dives in. Stephen, on the other hand, doesn't touch his food, simply staring out the window with a longing look in his eyes. Wong follows his line of sight to across the street, where a row of condos sit. A teenager knocks on the door, holding a slip of paper between her shaking hands. She knocks on the door, once, then steps back, pushing her shoulders back and standing straight. As the door opens, and as a young man comes into view, her shoulders immediately drop. They speak for a bit, before she sulks away. 

“She’s looking for her family,” Stepohen states, attempting to come off as casual. Wong hears the tenseness in his voice. 

“Many families were misplaced after Thanos,” Wong explains, folding his hands together. “I’m sure she will find hers soon.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I actually wanted to speak to you about that,” Wong clears his throat, leaning forward. “I had plans to bring it up after a meal, but this works as well. Myself and some of the other sorcerers thought it would be fit for us to assist in reuniting families, as we have locators on every person-”

“Do what you want,” Stephen waves him off, catching his friend by surprise. 

“What?”

“You ran the sanctum just fine for five years,” Stephen crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back. “Take over. I’m done.”

“Strange-”

“I completed my purpose, Wong,” He cuts Wong off, brows furrowing together. “I helped save the universe. And in doing so, I took a father away from his child. A husband away from his wife. I robbed the world of a hero. So no, I don’t want to go back to the Sanctum and continue being the Sorcerer Supreme. I… I can’t.”

Wong has never seen him like this before. So… broken. Stephen doesn’t do broken. He does confidence, and a bit too much pride to be healthy. But broken? Wong knew he had put himself in a time loop, but he didn’t think it had affected him this much. 

“Get up,” Wong stands abruptly, looking down at Stephen with a hardset gaze. Stephen stares back, clearly confused. “We’re walking now. Up.”

Strange lets out a heavy sigh, smoothening down the sides of his hair and following after Wong. The golden portal opens up, and the two step through. Stephen is surprised to find himself standing in the midst of a forest. Pine and leaves drift through the air, the sounds of squirrels scuttling up trees and birds chirping happily the only ones to hear. The sorcerer’s pale eyes drift up towards the sky, clouded by towering trees wearing soft blankets of moss. 

All in all, it’s very calming. Serene. Well, it should be serene. Stephen finds it… plain. He used to find all of serenity and happiness in an O.R, before the accident. Before every aspect of his life changed. 

“Where are we, Wong?” He sighs, turning towards his friend tiredly. Wong ignores him, continuing to gaze calmly at the scene. 

“I come here when I am feeling overwhelmed,” Replies Wong after a long moment, hands clasped behind his back. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. 

“Okay…” Stephen’s eyes flicker left and right before back to his friend, who happens to be weirding him in this particular situation. “So what do I-”

“I grew up in the sanctum,” Wong interrupts, slightly annoying the other. “I come from a long generation of Chinese monks that served the Ancient One. I watched my father- Master Hamir- practice alongside her for years. It was quite the image to live up to, and I remember constantly being frightened that I would not achieve the level of excellence and perfection he had in his work.”

“Master Hamir is your father?” Stephen chokes in disbelief. “H-How did I not know this? I thought we were friends, Wong. Friends tell friends when they’re fathers are working in the same building as them!”

“This forest in Northern China gave me peace and moments of redemption from the real world. Trapping myself in the mirror dimension and meditating allowed me to think, and grow.”

“All this time, I just thought you two talked a lot because you were friends,” Stephen scoffs, shaking his head, still hung up on the earlier subject. Wong rolls his eyes. 

“I failed to mention it because there was no benefit in you knowing. Now pay attention. I brought you to this sacred place to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Strange mutters stubbornly turning away. 

“Do you hear that?” Wong asks quietly, closing his eyes. Stephen snorts. 

“What? The sound of my time being wasted? Loud and clear, buddy.”

“The river,” The librarian corrects. “The splash of water against the stones? The creatures of the forest lapping it up?”

“Sure,” Stephen plays along, shrugging. “I hear it.”

“Do you hear the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees?”

“Yes.”

“And the squirrels running up the trees to the safety of their burrows?”

“Yes, Wong, I have ears,” Stephen snaps. “Now that we’ve confirmed that I’m not deaf, can we go home? I have work I need to finish.”

“The animals,” Wong, once again, ignores him. “The trees, and the grass. Even the insects crawling beneath our feet. They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You helped bring them back”

Stephen freezes in place, stiffening up. He’s an idiot. He should have known what Wong’s goal was all along. But then again, Wong isn’t exactly a “help you feel better’ kind of person. He’s the kind of person who will tell you to suck it up and keep fighting, because that’s the only thing to do. This… all of it… if very new territory. 

“I know that,” Stephen glares at him, whipping around. “I helped. We all did. You think I don’t know that?”

“You blame yourself,” Wong tells him. “For the deaths. Iron Man. Widow. Gamora. The Vision. Loki. The Asgardians. All the lives lost after the snap, those who weren’t strong enough to handle the losses. Those who couldn’t survive without-”

“I don’t,” Stephen cuts him off harshly, clenching his shaking hands in frustration. When he gets particularly angry, it’s hard to control the tremors. “That’s not my problem. My priority was defeating Thanos, and it’s done! It’s over! I did what needed to be done, and I can’t do anything about anyone whose dead! I can’t bring them back!  I can’t… ”

It’s too much. Too much pain, and guilt. Too many emotions. 

Shit. 

It’s an overload on his heart, and before Stephen knows it, he’s breaking down. He stumbles in his place, falling to the floor messily. It doesn’t matter. The stinging in his knees and palms, the stinging in his eyes… nothing compares to the pain in his heart. The weight crushing his shoulders. 

He buries his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. It all comes rushing at once. The millions of scenarios, and deaths… Flashes of memories… Thanos stabbing Tony threw the chest with no chance of resurrection, Quill being practically ripped in half, Peter’s being thrown back with so much force he dies on impact… that wasn’t dust. They didn't turn to dust. They died. Horrifying and gruesome deaths, in front of those who cared about them. Over, and over, and over, and-

“Strange!” Wong’s booming voice pulls him back into reality, and the sorcerer realizes tears are making there way down his cheeks. Not just one. Several stain his skin, small little indications of sorrow written across his features. 

“I’m fine,” He pushes Wong away, attempting to stand up. It’s a failed attempt as he stumbles back and lands back on the floor with a defeated thump. “I’m fine. I’m… I’m …,” He harshly wipes away the tears, wanting to force himself to stop this madness. There is no reason, no reason to cry. To be sad. He survived. His friends. Survived. But this toll…

Wong doesn’t try to comfort or help Stephen up, which he is thankful for. Instead, the librarian takes a seat on a rock beside him, and folds his hands together. He sits quietly, closing his eyes and peacefully meditating. 

“I helped save them,” Stephen finally speaks, leaning against a tree stump. “I protected the stone and gave it up. I helped orchestrate the events so they would happen. But… five years, Wong. Five years of parents mourning their children. Of friends having an empty void in their lives, and children wandering around mindlessly without the guiding hands of their mothers and fathers. Five years… you know in one instance, it was five hundred years? Everything happened the same, except this time, I let five hundred years go by. A new age of heroes saved the Earth, but it wasn’t the Earth anymore. It was so broken and different that I had to scrap it. Another time, five months went by. I changed some events, leaving clues. But they weren’t ready, and Thanos came in contact with the stones again. He destroyed the Earth. This was the only way.”

He waits for Wong to cut in with some sort of inspirational note, and is caught by surprise when he does not. Slightly relieved, as well. 

“I close my eyes, and I see them. Dying. Because of me-”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Strange,” Wong finally speaks. “You always like to make it about you. Everyone who died died because of a reason, and that reason was not you. The Asgardians happened to come across Thanos’ ship. The daughter of Thanos died at his hand, and Stark was always ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. They did that. Not you. Them.”

“But-”

“No,” Wong cuts in, opening his eyes just enough to roll them. “No more buts. This is a sacred place. Sit and be silent, I no longer want to hear about your non existent self pity. It was a war, and individuals die in war. That is no one’s fault but the enemy. And you’re solution is to give up? That’s a cowards way out, Stephen.” 

Stephen slumps back in defeat, pressing his thumb into his right palm. “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a hardass?”

“What do you not understand about, be silent?” Wong sighs, causing Stephen to smirk and begin talking about something else mindlessly. Wong mocks annoyance, but deep inside, he feels relief, and even a bit of happiness. Five years was far too long for Strange to be gone. Sure, he may be annoying, and though Wong would never admit it, he missed the Sorcerer. For the obvious reasons, of course. Stephen is his superior, his partner, and someone he had once had the pleasure of helping and teaching. 

And dare he say it, Stephen Strange is his friend.

***

Hope you liked it! 

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/55580260

Chapter 9:

The next morning Nick woke up to the soft tune of cheery music that came from the radio that used to wake everyone up every day. He instead hadn’t heard it for a long time now, because he had usually overslept it or he had been to high to notice it. Still tired, Nick looked out of the window into the twilight of the morning and asked himself how anyone could stand up at such an unearthly hour. But some Wellies were already walking outside, so he guessed they got used to it. And also, they didn’t experience any wild chases yesterday.

The music followed him when he walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen, where he met Morrie. He could only rasp „Morning,“ and had to clear his throat because for some reason his voice left him. 

„Morning, Nick“, Morrie returned casually. „Fancy a coffee?“ 

Nick affirmed immediately.

„There you go,“ the other man said and placed an already filled cup on the counter. „With milk, just the way you like it.“

Nick stared at the cup, still dealing with his own thoughts. He was unable to decide how he should feel. He couldn’t handle that he was in one room with Morrie just like that, without getting attacked, drinking a coffee with him like old friends and that Morrie even cared enough to serve it the way he liked. Nick felt numb, as if it was a dream, as if he would still lie at the couch in Sally’s place and yet it was like he held back feelings that could break out any second. Above all, he didn’t know how to act, especially not after what they had done last night. Had Morrie been serious or did he only want some amusement? 

„There must be something terribly interesting in that coffee if you keep staring at it like that,“ Morrie ripped him out of his thoughts. „As if you wanted to summon a ghost.“

At Nick’s puzzled look he added „You tried that before.“

„Really?“, Nick blurted out. „I can’t remember.“

He took a sip from the hot drink, thinking about it and he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his chest. Why did Morrie have to bring old memories back? Who knew how long that had been.

„Nevermind.“ Morrie shrugged. „Uncle Jack’s News Hour is about to start, I don’t wanna miss that.“

Nick followed him into the living room, asking himself what was the last time he actually watched a broadcast of Uncle Jack. That was certainly a long time ago too. 

„Wakey, wakey, everyone! It’s another fabulous day in Wellington Wells…“ declared the charismatic and ever so jolly uncle from the telly and minutes later, Nick was sure that everything was quite alright after all, that there were no serious problems in town, that everything could be solved with just a bit more confidence, and joy, of course, and that everyone in town had a lot of fun every day. His mood was getting better and better until it came to the news of an incident in the Avalon Hotel. 

„Some of you might’ve heard rumors about a downer attack at the Birdie Callagher Concert in the Avalon Hotel last evening. What a ridiculous story“, Jack shook his head, sounding all amused. 

„The truth is, it was a way too well played out theater act to add some spice to the program. No one was really hurt and our lovely singer Birdie Callagher lets you know that it was indeed a very pleasant event and she’s exited to return to the Avalon whenever she can.“ Jack smiled at the camera and put the papers away.

„And don’t worry,“ he added and playfully held up a finger, „if there’ll ever be a downer attack somewhere, you’ll hear it fist from Jack Worthing. That’s me.“ He winked at the camera in an irresistible way. „And for now, let’s listen to the brand new song of our favorite new singer.“ With that, the broadcast ended and was followed by a cheerful song that must’ve been one of Birdie’s. 

„Anytime you smile, baby, you know you drive me wild, crazy! That's why you got me screamin'. I think I might be dreamin’…“

Nick’s stomach turned at the thought of having to listen to this until the end. Then thankfully Morrie turned off the tv.

„I heard she’s Virgil’s creation, just like you,“ he stated.

„I’m not his ‚creation‘“, Nick disapproved. „I’m just his favorite.“

„You were,“ Morrie corrected him. „Weren’t you in the Avalon too? And didn’t the bobbies chase you yesterday?“ 

Nick sank into the couch, clinging to the now empty mug and remaining silent, so Morrie went on.

„I was wondering if you only made it up to make me come around. I guess I have my answer.“

„I’m not proud of it,“ Nick simply said, still looking away.

Morrie silenced too and Nick now wondered how he would judge him now.

„Since when have you been a downer?“, he suddenly asked and Nick almost let the mug fall.

„I’m not a downer,“ he bursted out. „Murderer, downer, what’s gonna be next?“

Morrie stayed calm and took a sip of his coffee before he went on.

„Are you on Joy right now?“

Nick sank back down in defeat.

„No…,“ he confessed. „I forgot it in my jacket.“

Morrie wiped his forehead.

„Why am I not surprised?“

He took a bowl from the couch table and offered it to Nick.

„Here, take one of mine.“

„Only one,“ he repeated when he saw Nick greedily reaching out for the bowl.

„I know, I know, only one per hour. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.“ Nick took one pill and eyed it.

„You’re still taking Vanilla?“

Morrie shrugged. „It’s still the best mixture. Makes me happy but not dizzy.“

Nick popped it and hoped it would come along with the Blackberry.

„About yesterday…“, Morrie came back to the topic and gave Nick a serious look. „Do you still mean it?“

Nick was glad he only needed seconds to get what Morrie was referring to.

„Yes, I absolutely mean it,“ he answered with emphasis and returned the look.

„It’s gonna be hard work,“ Morrie said. „Do you still remember how a band works?“

„Sure, it’s nothing but a bunch of egomaniacs that try to get their own way. Actually it can’t work but somehow it still does. Right?“

Morrie sighted.

„You couldn’t do all you want anymore.“

„I know.“ 

Nick tried to remember what it felt like, but the Vanilla cloud in his head spread out and made him unable to believe that there could be a problem.

„One more question,“ Morrie went on. „Do you think Virgil knows what you did yesterday?“

The question caused Nick to wriggle about on the couch, feeling very uncomfortable.

„I hope he doesn’t,“ he said meekly.

„Okay…II talk to the lads today and you make amends for Virgil,“ Morrie decided and pointed at Nick. „Do your best! Kiss his feet if you must!“

„I’ll make it“, Nick waved him off. „He always came around at the end.“

„Or you did…“, Morrie muttered to himself.

„What did you say?“

„Ah…nevermind…“, Morrie shook his head and Nick chose to forget about it.

„Well…I guess I’m out then…“, he said unsurely and left the couch.

„Wait,“ Morrie followed him. „Not in these rags. You can’t risk that someone recognizes you again. I’ll borrow you some of mine.“

„You borrow me clothes?“, Nick asked in surprise.

„Yes, that’s what I said. Follow me..“. Morrie made a gesture and Nick obeyed nervously. He had never worn one of Morrie’s clothes - why would he? But he was surprised that he got to that point now after so many years. While he leaned at the doorframe he tried not to look at Morrie’s stuff while the other man was searching in his dresser. 

„It’s gonna be one size too large for you but the color should suit you,“ he said pulling out a dark blue suit that made Nick weak in the knees. He couldn’t help but imagine Morrie wearing it.

„I’m waiting downstairs,“ Morrie said and left the room.

Nick didn’t want to have such strong feelings about such simple things as a suit but putting on a layer that had Morrie’s scent on it was something he couldn’t take calmly. He skimmed over the cloth and felt sorry that he couldn’t keep it. Going back to Morrie, he tried not to show how much it affected him.

However, Morrie was confused today too. If someone had told him yesterday that he was going to let Nick Lightbearer back into his life he would’ve thought that someone was suffering from too much Joy. He had been so sure he had learned his lesson once and for all, until he found him on his doorstep again, being afraid and helpless, with his clothes dirty and shredded, giving him this pleading look that he could barely withstand, especially when he looked like Norbert Pickles, with this cute messed up hair…

Morrie had locked him up in the guestroom because he couldn’t handle the sight, because he had been afraid to soften again, to let Nick use him for his selfish plans and then throw him away again. But of course he couldn’t forget who he had let into his house and he couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Morrie was glad that he didn’t hurt Nick but he still couldn’t trust him. Even if he wanted to. He wanted to believe that Nick changed, that the monster the music industry had turned him into was gone and that he had turned back into Norbert Pickles again. Morrie had no greater wish than to get him back and at the same time he was afraid to lose him once more, to find out that all of this was just a short moment in the eccentric life of the Lightbearer and he would walk out of the door and never come back again.

Perhaps his fears had been the reason why he had lost all is good grace and taken the opportunity yesterday. What he had really wanted, he didn’t know. As if he could get Norbert back with this, showing him what he lost, but trying to be not too nice, to protect himself. It was like begging or punishing him or both. Or he had only comforted himself and used Nick just like he had used him.

Whatever the reason was, he knew that he shouldn’t have done it.

„Nick, before you go…I have to tell you something…about last night…“ Morrie said when Nick came back, dressed in his clothes. Morrie’s voice was quiet and he bowed his head as if he couldn’t handle looking Nick in the eyes. Nick however couldn’t get his eyes off him and waited eagerly for what he was about to say. 

„I shouldn’t have done this…“, he said meekly.

Nick was upset. It was not at all what he had hoped for.

„You think it was a mistake?“

Morrie still looked down to the floor.„I should’ve contained myself,“ he almost whispered. Then he took courage to look up again and their eyes met.

„Can you forgive me?“

Nick was melting away at the sight, and still, his decision was fixed.

„No,“ he answered and shook his head, causing Morrie to give him a shocked look.

„I can’t forgive you that you think it was mistake. And I’ll change your mind. Just you wait.“

With that, he turned around and stormed out of the front door.

„Norbert!“, Morrie shouted after him but Nick was already out of reach. All he could do was watching him go and fighting down his worries.

Nick reached the Avalon without making any new enemies for once and used the secret entrance to his suite that Virgil had installed for him. First, he carefully looked around the room to see if any fan had sneaked past the staff and was lying around somewhere. When he didn’t find anyone, he crawled out from under the bar and started changing into his fancy rags with regret. 

However, he also noticed how much he had missed them and how he slowly turned into his full self again. In the bathroom he adjusted his wig - finally some hair he could tame! He felt much more comfortable in his skin when he returned to his bed where he had left Morrie’s suit. He carefully folded it, something he never did, but he knew how accurate Morrie was with his things and he didn’t want to anger him at any cost.

Still, he shortly cuddled into the jacket to take in the scent before he folded it back on the bed.

After that he hoped to find Virgil in the hotel. He assumed he was in the breakfast lounge because the buffet was still open. He left the suite, now being Nick Lightbearer again and strode along the corridor where he met a boy who’s face fell at the sight of him. 

„Lovely day for it,“ Nick greeted him in an overenthusiastic way.

„Right as rain,“ the boy said half-heartedly.

„I can’t hear you,“ Nick insisted, smiling widely.

At that the boy put on a silky mile.

„Right as rain, Mr. Lightbearer, Sir!“, he greeted him with fake excitement.

„There we go!“, Nick said and laughed as he made his way down the stays, not noticing the rude gesture the boy threw after him. It wouldn’t have changed his mood anyway. No one would take him for the rotten downer he had been yesterday. 

With an expansive gesture he pushed open the wooden double doors leading to the breakfast lounge and strode in, looking around for Virgil.

Then he walked around the room, searching the tables, all aware that the guests were staring at him, either in disgust or with awe. It was likely that Virgil had already seen him if he was in this room. 

Nick stopped when his gaze fell on a thick blonde mane in a corner of the lounge. The man in the purple suit who sat next to her could only be Virgil. Of course, Nick thought to himself. He should’ve known that Virgil wouldn’t give up on Birdie just because someone gave him a black eye. Nick had to act like nothing happened.

He approached them while they talked silently to each other and didn’t take note of Nick. They jumped when he loudly knocked on the table right between them.

„May I join?“, he asked with amusement, ignoring Virgil’s annoyed look.

„Did I interrupt you?“, he added and gave Virgil a suggestive look.

„Nick,“ Virgil almost blurted that out but he caught himself halfway. „…

allow me to introduce Miss Birdie Callagher. Miss Callagher…“ he made a gesture towards Nick, „…Nick Lightbearer.“

„Birdie Callagher, really? I’ve heard so much about you…“, Nick said and tried not to stare too much.

„I hope only happy things,“ she answered and offered him her hand which he gently kissed. „It’s a pleasure to meet you.“

When he looked up to her he saw that she was giving him her ravishing smile with a mixture of surprise. Content with himself, he turned back to Virgil to say: „When you’re finished I’d like to talk to you in private.“

The look Virgil gave him was unreadable, but he answered: „Alright, wait for me in your suite. I’ll come along.“

With that, Nick was dismissed and doomed to wait. He hated waiting but he had to please Virgil, so he shortly said goodbye to Birdie and went back to his suite and stretched himself out on the big couch.

After what had felt like an eternity his manager finally granted him a visit and slumped down on the couch next to him.

„I’m glad you’re back to your senses“, he said with an emphasis that told Nick he could stop acting.

„You know it…“, he only said and tensed.

„Of course,“ Virgil shouted. „Wasn’t hard to guess. I’ve known you for years! I have to give it to you though, you surprised me. I thought you stay in the tunnel and let me make a good deal without mistaking it all. I should’ve known you would come to steal the show.“

„So..you..didn’t ditch me?“, Nick asked meekly.

„Hell no, do you think I can only have one star at a time? You still had a chance. And what were you doing with it?“ Virgil pointed a finger at Nick’s face. „How long has it been since you promised me to get your shit together? Two days? And then you showed up as a downer.“

„I*m sorry I hurt you, Virgil. Are you alright?“

„I’m fine,“ he waved him off. „But did you think about Birdie for one second? She almost had a breakdown, didn’t see a downer before and the doctors were busy all night to cheer her up again. You could’ve ruined her, made her a downer. Perhaps that was your plan.“

„No, believe me, I had…no plan. None at all…“ Nick didn’t dare to look Virgil in the eyes anymore. He just curled up and hoped he could make it up to him.

„Well, that’s not a surprise. Thank god you didn’t freak her out again. I wonder how you got back in such a good shape today.“

„Yeah…actually…I’ve managed to do something right yesterday. That’s what I wanted to tell you.“

„Yeah, what? Surprise me again.“

„I think I can get my old band back.“

„You…think?“, Virgil squinted his eyes.

„Well…I convinced Morrie to join me again and he’s gonna talk to the band today and likely he’ll have them gathered back together by morning.“

„That’s indeed a surprise… Morrie Memento, ey? He’s sensible, he could do you well…“ Virgil thought about it, already back to business. „But…Nick?“

„Yes?“

Virgil gave him an urgent look.

„Don’t let him talk you into anything you don’t want. You better tell me first  before you do it.“

Nick was puzzled.

„….okay?“

Virgil got up from the couch without further explanation. 

„Well, then, I’ll go prepare a happy reunion I guess. And you…“, he looked at him sternly and pointed a finger at him. „You keep your head clear.“

„Yes, Virgil,“ Nick was eager to obey. „And…Virgil?“, he carefully held his manager back and locked gazes again.

„I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.“

Virgil didn’t look angry anymore.

„You trust me now?“

„Yes.“ 

[aurora-daily]

AURORA

Interview: AURORA for Notion by Cleo Webster (May 28th, 2019).

Norwegian pop sensation Aurora wants the world to know that she is only human – though, perhaps, A Different Kind…

It’s both refreshing and unnerving to talk with someone who seems to know what you’re about to ask, before the question even passes your lips. But, given the mysterious, otherworldly aura surrounding alt-pop artist Aurora, it’s a talent that shouldn’t be entirely unexpected. Notion grabbed a few minutes with the Norwegian singer-songwriter to discuss her upcoming album, A Different Kind of Human, in between touring the globe, writing a fourth record, learning Japanese, and building an army of warriors for our world.

Most people will be familiar with Aurora’s mystical, ethereal vocal style – even if they don’t know it; her cover of Oasis’ “Half the World Away” was the soundtrack of Christmas 2015, having featured in that year’s John Lewis Christmas advert. While the gig could well be credited with propelling her career in its earliest stages, she isn’t hesitant in admitting that the Gallagher brothers aren’t really her cup of tea: “I didn’t know about the song before that! I don’t like them that much, I think they’re a really good band and they make really good music, but it’s just not what I usually listen to.

“I don’t really listen much to music, because there is so much music in my life, and in my head, so I do prefer just silence most of the time. But I do sometimes listen to Enya, which is quite calm, and I like listening to heavy metal like System Of A Down and Mastodon, bands like that, so it’s quite a contrast! There is something in heavy metal which soothes me, I often sleep to heavy metal songs.”

We catch her, coincidentally, half the world away on tour in Australia. It’s a long way from her home town of Bergen on the west coast of Norway, where her family still resides in a quiet fjord in the forest. “It’s really beautiful, and I think my favourite thing about my childhood home is that there are almost no people there. I like to be alone, and I loved being alone when I was a child. It was always an issue with my friends that I said no to hanging out, because I really enjoyed being with myself and I had so many things I wanted to do; I liked to draw, dance and make music. I think that’s the best gift from growing up in Norway and my family home; the imagination and creativity you get when you have to be your own best friend.”

This connection to nature, and the idea of escape and solitude, permeates her music: “I have nature where I grew up, and I know many people don’t have the same kind of scenery, so it’s nice to think that music can take you away to somewhere else. My music has many layers, and I think people really feel connected to nature and tribality in the world; I have big landscapes in my music, because I like energy and I like to dance and shout when I perform live. I’m quite explosive, or I’m feeling quite explosive at the moment. I think I need to be loud at the moment.”

Similarly, while the tribal emblems present throughout her music to date are still a clear influence, A Different Kind of Human goes further, inviting us on a journey through earthly and unearthly realms; opening with tribal rhythms from the belly of the Earth, we’re suddenly flung above the stars in a cloud of futuristic electropop, before being pulled back down by hypnotic and heavy drum beats:

“Every album I make is a bridge between the album that comes before, and the album I know will come after. I am moved by native music, ancient music, and I’m very inspired by Native American and African music, Norwegian folk music and quite a lot of Japanese folk music. I’ve had those quite close to my heart for a long time and, with every album I make, the perspective is becoming bigger.

“My first album was a lot about looking inwards and working with your own demons, becoming a warrior for yourself. All in all, it’s about becoming a warrior for the people that can’t be a warrior for themselves yet, so that’s why it’s important that this album felt like it was sent to a different kind of human. It has this mix of the ancient and futuristic because we are in a very interesting time now, as humans; we are trying to learn how to live with the world, the technology, with us, and trying to balance it all in harmony.”

The desire to be loud, to be a warrior, is fundamental when considering this latest musical offering; while her music may have once been intended to offer a retreat from reality, Aurora is determined now to bring her fans face to face with the very real crisis facing us today. “Music can be an escape for a little while to this other creative place, at the same time as it can be a tool to survive what you have to deal with in reality. I wanted people to feel like they could have a little break from whatever is hard to deal with in their lives, and to get some comfort. But, now, I’m obsessed with bringing people back to the planet through music, and opening people’s eyes about the world, about each other, to provoke compassion.

“I feel like we are meant to be compassionate creatures, we humans. We are compassionate with our friends, family, our closest ones, and it worries me that we don’t really have that much compassion with everything else of late. That’s kind of the whole point of what I’m into right now, bringing people back down to the Earth again and facing all of these uncomfortable things, while also seeing what is so beautiful, and that we have to preserve it before it’s too late.”

“The Seed” and “Apple Tree” are among the more overtly charged tracks on the album, reminiscent of the politically active musical movement championed by ‘70s punk artists. “I know there are problems that may seem very big – like how we look, or things we are unhappy about in ourselves – but if we just got a bigger perspective, it is easier to be happy. You learn that you have so much more to do on this planet, and all the small insignificant things that you are insecure or shy about, all of that stuff goes away; you realise ‘I’ve got power, and I have so much potential, I could actually help.’

“I think that music can make those things perhaps more fun to care about – like the planet, equality and gender equality, animal cruelty… there are many, many battles to take up. I’m kind of missing the anger that we used to have, especially in music. It makes me exhausted to think about how full of plastic the music industry has been for such a long time. Even with big shows, like the Met Gala for example, it’s so beautiful and expensive and sparkly, but if you just take one step back it looks so strange, you know? Like, if they were an animal, it wouldn’t make any sense. So why do we spend all this time and money focusing on this… We have so much potential, but I feel like it’s wasting away on matters that don’t really deserve us.”

If there’s one thing that nobody can accuse Aurora of, it’s being ‘plastic’; her standout theatrical style, both in her performances and dress sense, are a huge part of her appeal to fans across the globe. With her sense of self so clearly solidified, it is difficult to imagine that Aurora has ever felt that pressure to conform to homogenised pop standards. “It is a lot of pressure, all the time. People try to comment on what I should wear or want me to wear brands on every photo shoot. And you have to fight them off to just look like yourself. I think the biggest point I have tried to stay very true to is that, the way I dress, it has nothing to do with money, it’s nothing expensive. I mostly wear stuff me and my sister have made from old curtains or other clothes that we make into something else, and I do like really vintage stuff.

“I was determined from the beginning not to get any outfits from brands, because it’s not about getting stuff for free. With my fans, I want them to see me in things they can easily make themselves, because it has nothing to do with money, It just has to do with creativity and imagination – and then the possibilities are endless! It’s much more fun to just make things out of whatever you find in the dumpster.”

While Aurora may be resolute in remaining unchanged, there is no doubting that there have been staggering changes happening around her since the release of her first album in 2016 – so how does she feel about that? “It’s weird to even notice the change because it happens step by step; my family is bigger now, I have more warriors and weirdos by my side, and I think that’s the biggest difference. It’s nice, because I’ve always had the question in my head as to whether I really want to be an artist or not, as it’s such a strange thing. I just want to make music, that’s all I want to do. I want to be in the studio with my drummer, Magnus, and sometimes, in the beginning, I felt like being an artist and being on the stage was too distracting from that and kept me away from the studio.

“I think the biggest change from then to now is that I’ve learned how important it is to meet people, and to be in the same room with people… I think it’s important to see that someone they admire and love – because they do give me so much love – I’m just another human. Then I think it’s easier to have the same love for yourself, and so I do see the value in being an artist and performing; I’ve learned how much power my words can have.”

It’s interesting, that someone so assuredly content in solitude can, at the same time, feel so enticed by a crowd, and by notions of power and persuasion: “I do like having the power because I have a lot to say, and I have a lot that I want to change, and now I realise I can make change because of those people – I have no power without the people. I have really learned to love my fans and to love travelling around the world, and really getting my word out there. It’s very powerful.”

With A Different Kind of Human still a month from release at the time of writing, Aurora says that she has already started work on her fourth album with ‘an even bigger perspective’, whilst also on a worldwide tour. So, what’s next? “I want to make 8 albums, I think that’s the limit, and I want to have a show on the water. I want to make it a theatre performance with music… and I am a dancer too so, if possible, add even more dancing into the show. It’s very exciting, really, to have the time to really develop the most magical live show that you’ve ever seen.

“But I have a lot of plans! I also want to be a painter, and I’m trying to learn Japanese – I want to live in Japan for a few years. So, I have a lot of things that I want to do. And, luckily, I have a lot of time, because I’m not going to stop, not until I die.”

AURORA freshly reveals her new single ‘The River’ and accompanying video from her highly anticipated third album ‘A Different Kind of Human’ today, set for an official release via Decca Records on 7th June. In line with this, AURORA also announces a 6 date tour in November, including her biggest headline show to date in the UK at London’s iconic Roundhouse, on 11th November. Following a full packed summer of festival appearances including Glastonbury and Latitude, as well as sold out headline tours across Australia and South America.

‘The River’ is the opening track on ‘A Different Kind of Human’ and finds AURORA at her best, juxtaposing huge pop melodies with more conceptually driven electronica. Thematically tackling the issues of increasing male suicide rates and expression of emotion, the darkness and thoughtfulness of her lyrics are perfectly balanced with her delicate vocal, layered to sound more like an instrument than vocal in parts. Aurora commenting on the track notes “It’s quite a happy song… it’s been a while since I’ve had a joyful song so it feels very nice. It was inspired by something quite sad as I looked at the suicide rates on this planet and apparently 73% of them were men and then I thought, why is that the case? Then I realised, obviously, it must be because of the feeling that you can’t talk about your emotions and show that you’re in pain because pain is often associated with weakness but you know, here in my world it’s not, so the song is inspired by something quite sad but it is also happy because crying can be such a positive experience, especially afterwards when you actually feel a bit lighter.”

[queenofcats17]

Outbreak 3

@bornoffireandwisdom had a few more ideas about Outbreak, so I’m writing more!

I apologize that this took so long. 

This Murray belongs to @circus-craze

In retrospect, Murray Hill should never have taken this job. He should have known from the moment Joey made his pitch how this would end. He was being tasked with creating what was essentially an ink based zombie plague, with Joey at the helm of the hivemind it would create. But Joey had talked about making a family and breaking the bonds of death so that humanity could transcend. And as a scientist, Murray’s usual motivation did tend to be, ‘I wonder what would happen if I did this?’ His curiosity was hard to satiate and thus had blinded him to the sinister undertone to Joey’s words. He’d charged ahead without a thought as to the consequences of his actions. By the time he realized he’d made a mistake...he was in too deep. 

He really should have realized sooner that he wasn’t in the right, what with all the screaming and the crying. The employees he’d rounded up to experiment on, those who weren’t corrupted that was, were clinging to one another and sobbing. Some railed against their fates, spitting curses at Murray in languages he didn’t recognize. 

“You’re a monster!” One, a band member, screaming as they struggled against their bonds. 

“Progress requires sacrifice,” Murray mumbled off-handedly, using one gloved hand to flip over the employee he was studying. His current specimen was one of the inker girls in the last stages of the infection. She had a large gash in her side that was still bleeding, although the blood was quickly turning black. 

“Progress?!” The band member snapped. “You call this progress?!”

“It will be.” Murray glanced back at the band member. They were pale and sweating profusely, just barely holding on. They looked awful. 

“What do you think will happen when everyone here is corrupted?” The band member asked, their lip curling in a sneer. “Do you seriously think Drew’s going to let you share your great discovery with the world? You think he’s going to let you publish papers about this?”

“I doubt he’d want to keep this discovery a secret.” Murray laughed, although it sounded rather uncomfortable. He honestly was a little uncomfortable with this situation. The band member looked practically on death’s door by this point. Their breath was coming in gasps, as though they couldn’t get enough air. They watched Murray intently, face twisting in irritation and rage. 

“You’re either too stupid to see you’re being used or a stone-cold psychopath.” They spat ink at Murray’s feet. 

“I’m not being used!” Murray said indignantly. 

“The second you’re not useful anymore...” The band member lifted their gaze to meet Murray’s, forcing the scientist to watch as the ink slowly consumed them. “You’ll end up just like us.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Murray scoffed, turning back to the inker girl on the table. “He wouldn’t do that to me.” But...would he? Joey had said this whole thing was about creating a family, finding a way to defeat death. This sure didn’t look like a family, though. 

“Mama.” The inker girl whimpered, her breath coming in quick gasps. Her voice was small and afraid. Murray felt his stomach begin to drop.

“I’m not a monster,” Murray said to himself, laughing nervously. “I-I’m not. I can’t be.” The inker girl began to vomit out ink, whimpering and crying as she did. God, she was so young. She couldn’t be more than 18. She was practically a child. She probably had a family that was going to miss her. An icy weight developed in Murray’s stomach. 

“Oh my god...” He took a step back. “What am I doing?” This was a mistake. All of it was a mistake. How had he not seen this before?! He felt like he was going to be sick.

“I have to get out of here.” He made for the door but stopped in the doorway. He couldn’t run. Joey would find him. The second he stopped being useful, Joey was going to kill him too.

“I’m going to die here.” His voice went up an octave. His breathing sped up. He was practically hyperventilating now. He was going to die here. He’d dug his own grave and all that remained was for Joey to put him in it. 

Speaking of Joey, he’d made his way down to Level 14 to gloat to his very first victim. Norman Polk had been a guinea pig of sorts. Technically speaking, he’d quit the studio months ago. But he’d come back to find evidence to prove Joey was planning something. He really shouldn’t have come back. Norman had found Joey’s journal, one that detailed all his plans, and Joey had caught him reading it. Murray wasn’t aware that Norman was still there. Hell, no one was aware that Norman was still there. He��d been reported missing after the first month and the police had come around, of course, because Polk’s little sister had said Norman had come back to the studio. But Joey had smiled and played the innocent victim and they’d gone on their way. After all, there was no way a sweet young man in a wheelchair could have done anything, right?

“Polk~ Where are you?~” Joey said in a sing-song voice as he slid down the railing to the labyrinth. It felt so good to not be confined to that damnable wheelchair anymore. There was no reply, which only made him smile wider. 

“Are you hiding from me, Norman?” He cooed, practically skipping in. “You should really know better. There’s nowhere you can go anymore where I can’t find you.” He heard the telltale whir of the projector behind him, easily catching the Projectionist’s arm as it arched down toward him. 

“That’s not very nice.” He clicked his tongue as though he were addressing a naughty child rather than a horrifying inky monstrosity. The Projectionist screeched, trying again to swipe at Joey. 

“Norman Norman Norman.” Joey sighed and shook his head, catching Norman’s other hand. “Really, you should have known by now that you can’t overpower me.” The Projectionist screeched louder, struggling against Joey’s grip. For someone so small and frail looking, Joey was surprisingly strong. Murray’s ink virus was likely to thank for that. 

“My Norman, have you gotten weaker?” Joey asked innocently. “I’m so much smaller than you. I shouldn’t be able to overpower you, should I?” He batted his eyelashes in the way that had always made the older society ladies coo and pinch his cheeks. The Projectionist kept struggling, but it was useless. Joey was having the time of his life, unlike literally everyone else in the studio.

“Did your visions see this?” Joey smiled wide, forcing the Projectionist against the wall. “Did your visions show you how badly you would fail?” The Projectionist made a whirring noise that almost sounded like a whimper. 

“I’ve done it.” Joey continued, his smile so wide now it almost looked manic. “They’re all mine now. Everyone in this studio belongs to me. I’ve won.” Norman didn’t exactly have a face anymore, but if he had Joey’s would have been inches from his. Joey’s eyes were glowing an unearthly red. 

“Not even your visions could save you. You couldn’t save anyone.”

.

Grant didn’t really understand what was happening. His mind felt fuzzy and his body felt cold. Cold like he was underwater in a freezing lake. He was sure he had to be doing something. He’d been with someone, hadn’t he? What had they been doing? He felt the telltale rise of anxiety. He had to get somewhere safe. His office. He needed to get to his office. Moving was hard. He didn’t know why it was so hard. His body wouldn’t cooperate with him. This made him even more anxious. His thoughts were swimming in his mind, jumbled and incoherent.

He managed to get to his office, but he couldn’t sit down or relax. He was in his safe place, but he didn’t feel safe. His thoughts were still so mixed up. He needed to do something. He needed to find some way to make himself feel better. He started writing on the walls with an ink covered finger, although the writing was rough and rather worse than his usual handwriting. 

Time is money

Taxes

It doesn’t add up

48128 Short

Money

He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. He had to get the thoughts out somehow. He had to get them out. 

That was when Shawn arrived. He’d assumed Grant would come to his office. That was the place that Grant felt the safest in. It stood to reason that, even in his altered state, he would want to go to the place he felt safe. Shawn stopped in the doorway, so relieved he almost wanted to cry. 

“Grant.” He took a step toward the accountant. “I knew I’d find you here. Are you alright?” Grant turned slowly around. A part of him recognized Shawn, and that part kept him from immediately trying to attack. 

“Sha...wn...” Some ink dribbled down his chin as he spoke, his voice almost a croak. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Shawn smiled, taking another step toward Grant. “I’m sorry for running off like that. You’re probably really scared right now.” Grant made a whimpering sound, nodding slightly. He was scared. There was a deep primal urge tugging at his consciousness, telling him to attack Shawn, to infect him. To vomit ink down his throat until he choked. But Shawn was his friend. Shawn had always protected him and kept him safe. 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Shawn said. “I’m going to protect you now.” But they both knew he was wrong. In the doorway, Searchers were beginning to appear. Grant’s eyes widened. He wanted to cry out. He wanted to warn Shawn of the threat. But he couldn’t force any sounds out. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to force himself to speak.

“Sha...wn...” He croaked as the Searchers advanced on his friend. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Shawn looked on the verge of tears. “I’m here.” 

Then the Searchers overtook Shawn. They dragged him down, pinning him to the ground and doing exactly what Grant had felt so compelled to do. They held his arms and legs, vomiting ink down his throat. Shawn struggled and fought back for a bit, but he knew there was nothing he could do, and so he soon grew still. A wave of frustration, fear, and sorrow overtook Grant and he began to panic. He threw the contents of his desk onto the floor, screeching at the top of his lungs. Unbeknownst to him, when he threw the objects to the ground, he happened to turn on a tape recorder that had been on his desk. 

The sounds captured on that tape were frankly horrifying. They were like nothing anyone would have ever heard before. In his state of intense emotion, Grant was no longer capable of coherent speech. All he knew was that his friend was being hurt and he could do nothing to stop it. The Searchers paid him no mind. He was one of them already, after all. No need to attack him.

It didn’t take long for the infection to take hold and Shawn to come back. The other Searchers left, but Shawn remained. Some unconscious part of him wanted to stay with Grant. He’d wanted to protect Grant, and so he would continue to do so. Grant’s emotions were starting to fade once more and he moved closer to Shawn, whimpering quietly. Grant rested his head against Shawn’s, making a comforting noise. 

In the days that followed, he and Grant stayed together for the most part. They patrolled the corridors with Lacie, always together. Lacie herself would sometimes visit Bertram when she wasn’t with Grant and Shawn and Joey wasn’t having her doing things. She still remembered Bertram. Bertram didn’t mind her company, occasionally talking to her. He knew she probably couldn’t understand her, but it made him feel better to talk to her anyway. Rarely, very rarely, she regained her sapience and they would reminisce about old times and complain about Joey. It made their torment a little more bearable.

[unbefuckinglieveable]

Not today.

// Hey back with a fic(read the warnings).  I didn't have the motivation to finish the power fic or Sensors Down those will come soon I promise. Today I felt like writing black  coffee and mean like expresso black. So....

Tw: Self depricating thoughts, suicidal thoughts, and swearing if I missed any let me know so I can fix them.   Hurt/Comfort. ** Be safe everyone please** 

 Fandom: Sanders Sides

 Word count: 1,500 

Ships: End Logice

Brief summary: Logan spends one full day in bed thinking. It is usually a comfort. However today thinking did more harm then good.  

    It was one day, just one that Logan honestly didn't want to be the staunch function.  He just didn't want to do anything.  Logic had woken up at five a.m and stared at his ceiling for what felt like hours.  Logan knew better. There was no way it had been hours, the next time he glanced at his clock it was only… nine a.m.  wait what?

    He sat up slowly and looked around. Logan had missed breakfast. Usually that would have sent Patton knocking on his door. However not today. ‘ I guess they still are aggravated at me for denying my feelings ’  The thought persisted. He didn't have the energy to care and since they didn't care than there was no point in worrying.

    Logan laid back against his soft bed and continued to stare at the ceiling.  Thinking.  

    Thinking was typically a comfort to the logical one. However those were typically thoughts of equations, science,chemical engineering, and astrology.  Today there were about Thomas abandoning his education. They were about being abandoned.  Being abandoned by Thomas and now the others.  

    He supposed that him being a theoretical “buzz kill “ would warrant it. Ruining things did make people leave. The thought dampening his mood further.   Logan didn't enjoy the feelings. They were rarely positive. The function used to be able to simply think about facts and forgo the rest. Not today.  Not this damn day.  

     Today it felt that instead of flying in the stars he was drowning in the deepest depths the ocean had.  Logan didn't know when silent tears baptised his cheeks nor did he bother to wipe them away.  He was alone, again. While the others had movies and cookies and coloring books and…fun.

    Fun was something he seldom allowed himself to have. He may as well just paint neon sign on his forehead that read, ‘I am a joke’ if he did. Logan couldn't be passionate. That was Roman's job.  Baking and enjoying puns was Patton's territory. Logan didn't want to feel any worse so he didn't want to set foot in Virgil’s space.  He would not have fun with them.

     Solitude.

     Logan drew in a shaking breath and glanced to the clock on his nightstand. One p.m.  No one cared.  Logic stared at the ceiling again.  He felt his body shake.  A quiet unearthly noise escaped his throat. It was enough to startle the young man back into silence.  His mouth started to move.

   Out of of it came a hoarse cracking voice.

   “ I had- I have this problem- I have this problem where I'd often hide  my less than awesome feelings so when I would feel like sobbin” Another one of those unearthly sounds tore up his throat, it silenced him a moment before he spoke to himself.

   “I would try- try to sing that stupid song.” He wasn't creative enough to summon the words right now. He wasn't smart enough to theorize what his lines might have been.  Logan wasn't smart enough. Logan just wasn't good enough.

    He just wasn't good enough.

   Another sound this one not loud at all. Just a whimper before he rolled over and just hid his face in one of the pillows his friend had made him.  He body continued to shake.  Until a gently familiar sense of numbness rolled over him his body stilled and his mind had drawn a blank.

   A blank mind from logic.

   ‘Wow I really must be stupid.’  Logan thought to himself.  

   He didn't bother to check the time again, it wasn't like he was going to get out of bed. He didn't even know if he was going to get up tomorrow. Or if he'd just lay in bed again.  A new thought seeped into his mind like poison. ‘ Maybe I just won't get up again’  It stuck in his mind. He did not know how this was affecting Thomas.  If he was being honest with himself. He didn't care.

   Another noise slightly louder.  

    Virgil would most likely take his place if Logan kept this up. And at the same time Logan wanted that. He didn't want to be the faulty logic.   He didn't want to be a joke he just wanted to be apreciated. 

    Solitude.

    The doorknob to his room squeaked like it always did when it was shut. Someone was in there with him.  “Go away.” his muffled shaking came. He didn't have the energy to lift his head. Let alone keep the charade up in his own room.  

    Logan sighed when he didn't hear the door open.  He was about to yell at the person to leave .  Then he felt. A gentle hand gliding  through his sweaty disheveled hair.  “¿mi querido amigo? Logan? What's wrong? You missed all three of Patton's delicious meals.”

    Was it already after seven? Logan sat up but did not meet the prince's concerned gaze. “ Just didn't feel like it Roman. Please leave”  he said hoping the other would listen to him for once.  

   Roman looked down at Logan, he was not leaving his lo- friend alone. Roman had respected Logan's privacy this long and it accomplished dip diddly.  He had walked by every hour to see if he was awake or active. Nothing.  It was nine o'clock at night.  Roman had almost not come in. Then he heard a quiet sob through the door an knew what must be done.

    “No. Look it is just you and me. I know we have been arguing lately. However I am still your friend and clearly you need one, mi amor.”   The regal side said unhooking his sword and set it against the bookshelf. Roman took a seat by Logan while his hand still carded the damp hair. ‘ Had he caused this?’   

    Princey's soft brown eyes widened as Logic's shoulders just started quaking violently. Slender hands rushing up to cup his face. Roman turned the smaller man and pulled him in with firm yet gentle hands rubbing small circles in his back.  He started to sing quietly. “ Everybody's got flaws but with no you at all I'm incomplete.”

   Logan was shaking a rancorous sob tore up his throat. “ I don't even function properly. What good am I?” The function spat. Roman hugged him a little tighter. 

    “Your great at being logic. You keep me from going hog wild with my ideas. You keep Patton from pulling too much on to his plate. And you keep Virgil grounded when panicking. You're a comfort.  We… need you “ Roman said quietly as Logan pulled away looking up at Roman.

    Guilt doused the prince like a fire. Logic’s eyes were puffy, his whole face red. His normally tamed appearance didn't exist. His hair hung down messily he hadn't showered or changed from his galaxy pajamas.he wasn't even wearing his glasses. “You could have fooled me. None of you hear me out.  Thomas figuratively dumped his education off the back of a ship.”

    Roman grimaced at the words, Logan wasn't wrong. However each argument had different things fueling it. At this point they were all yelling to be heard by each other. The tears trailing down Logan's cheeks like a facet not turned completely of said as much. “ Would you say Thomas will ever stop learning?”

    “No… normal human's learn their entire life.” Logan responded honestly he let his head sink. Roman went to pull him back in gently. Logan didn't mind it. He needed the hug. Then Logan felt Roman hesitate and wrapped his arms gently around the prince's lower back.

   “ Would you say that as his learning capacity you know everything?” Roman muttered quietly as he held logan in gentle arms.

   “No that is illogical.”  Logan whispered hiding his face in the white fabric of Roman's costume. The tears still came but not as hard as earlier.

   “Would you say you know a lot about emotions?”

   “ No because I… deny having them.”  

   “Tomorrow. Would you like to learn with me?”  

   “Yes. I think one day in bed is long enough.”  Logan whispered tiredly.  Roman smiled softly, not every problem is fixed in a night. He gently moved to lay his crush down. Logan refused to let go.   “Please stay.”

    Roman nodded softly, “ Of course.” he whispered as he kicked off his boots. Without another word he took his place besides his friend, who immeadiatly sought comfort in his chest.Roman rubbed the function's  back as a soft knock came from the door.  

      Logan sighed, “Roman? Could you politely tell them I'm okay and send whoever it is away?”

      “Yeah, no problem.”  Roman said as he felt the logical facet free him. He stood and walked to the door opening it quietly looking at a worried Patton with a little tray of cookies.

      “How is he?” Patton questioned.

      “He'll be better tomorrow I am gonna stay in here tonight,”  Roman explained, “ please give us privacy.”

       Patton gives an understanding nod, gives Roman the plate and leaves without another word.  They'd talk in the morning.

       Roman shuts the door quietly.

       “Hey Roman?”

      “Yes Lo?"

      “ I know what ‘Mi amor’ means.”  Logan said from on the bed. Roman paled as realization struck.

      “I am so so-”

    “I just wanted to say I liked it. Come get in bed.”

[sabraeal]

I’d Appreciate Your Input

Set at the end of the first Lyrias Arc, just before they go back to Wistal

Wide Florida Bay | Previous

Shirayuki shifts on her feet, shrinking into one corner of the elevator while it creeps up the lab’s side. She should be enjoying the panoramic view of campus; after all, there’s only this paper to finish and a plane to climb on and they’re done. With Lyrias. For forever. She should just…be drinking this all in.

Instead she stares at her shoes – ballet flats, which are the only pair she’s brought with her that are not either open-toed or utterly destroyed – and asks, “Do you think they’re going to be mad?”

Obi’s slouched against the corrugated metal, head tipped back, but he drops it down to stare at her, face crinkled with incredulity. “About what? That you got a phone?”  

“No! I mean, yes, but --” she bites her lip, trying to gather up these thoughts, trying to put anxieties into words – “we left them with all that work! We should really have been writing too, it’s not fair that we --”

Obi holds out a hand, stop. “Doc. We all watched as your canoe legit tipped into dirty estuary, saw your ancient reliquary of a phone pull a Jack from Tatanic, and then – I mean if that wasn’t enough to earn you a new phone – no fewer than three of us saw Loretta eat it.”

“I mean…” She shuffles in her corner, heat creeping up her neck. “I don’t know if Loretta really eats --”

“She did.” His hand lands her shoulder, long fingers spanning over the wing of her scapula. It’s – nice. Comforting. “Listen, the worst that’s going to happen is that Kazaha will think your phone is too mainstream. Let yourself breathe a little, Doc.”

She thinks about Yuzuri, thinks about sitting over empty take-out containers the night the boys were on Turtle Watch, thinks about the way she said, take up some space, Yuki. Stop apologizing for being human.

Right, she can -- she can be selfish for once. Do something for herself. That’s -- that’s allowed. A little, at least.

“Okay,” she murmurs as the doors open. “I’ll just – do that. Breathe.”

His hand drops from her should to press over the open doors, nodding her through. “Good. Oh, hey, looks like it was the Chinese truck that was outside today.”

The breakroom is just ahead, the whole lab gathered around with Styrofoam containers and wooden chopstick, shoveling noodles into their mouths. She misses them already.

“Great,” she says, wishes she felt as strong as she sounded. “We should -- should go check in.”

They’re barely in the door when Yuzuri jams a hand out, flicking her fingers in the clear sign for gimme.

“Okay, enough teasing,” she huffs. “Show us the goods already.”

Shirayuki blinks, confused, but there’s Yuzuri, gimme gimme, and half the lab perks up from their lo mein with varying degrees of interest. Even Ryuu’s looking, big eyes staring up at them owlishly, flicking between them.

Obi rolls his neck, hands falling to his belt. “Well, all right.”

It jingles once, tongue slipping in one liquid movement through the buckle, before Yuzuri shrills, “I meant the phone! Clearly.”

“We could look at both,” Suzu offers, with a speculative glance toward where Obi stands, grin tilting his mouth.

“You two can send each other your weirdly platonic dick pics later.” Yuzuri heaves a sigh, hand thrusting out farther over the table, toward Shirayuki. “I want to see the merchandise.”

“Again,” Obi drawls with another meaningful jingle, “could mean either --”

“I want to see the shiny new tiny computer,” Yuzuri snaps, giving him a flat look. “There, is that clear enough for you?”

Obi hums, sinking into the seat across from her. “Crystal.”

Yuzuri rolls her eyes. “Great. Now come on, girl, don’t keep mama waiting.”

Shirayuki hesitates, reaching into her bag to pull out the phone. It’s so new she hasn’t even really taken all the stickers off; it feels like she could break it just by holding it too long.

“Thank you,” Yuzuri says, with a cloying look toward Obi. “At least someone here isn’t trying to show me their equipment. I mean, honestly.”

“Hey, it’s a common request,” Obi shrugs, leaning back. “I’m a hot item.”

“You wish.”

“Again, i wouldn’t mind,” Suzu puts forth.

Yuzuri spares him a disgusted look as she flicks through the screens on Shirayuki’s phone. “You don’t count. No one else wants to see dick while they’re eating noodles.”

“I don’t know,” Izuru hums, sending a speculative look over Obi. “How old are you, undergrad?”

“Old enough to buy beer,” he assures her.

She nods. “Yeah, okay, then I wouldn’t mind --”

“Could everyone please get out more?” Yuzuri sighs, tapping through some -- apps? Is that what they’re called? Oh, she really -- she really isn’t savvy enough to have something like this. “This is a sweet little piece though, I gotta admit. I figured you for something sleeker, but I’ve heard nothing can kill these Nokia things.”

“That was the draw,” Obi tells her with a grin. “Chief wanted to see if he could get one of those new iPhones, but...”

Yuzuri stares at her. “One of the sixes? They haven’t even announced them yet!”

Obi shrugs. “Our boss’s boss has connections.”

Yuzuri’s gaze swings to her, half-accusing. “And you said no?”

“The scholarship is supposed to be paying for it!” Shirayuki protests, rounding her shoulder. “And besides, it looked flimsy...”

Despite not strictly being on the market or existing, the salesman had known enough about the model to hit key points, each one making Obi nod and Shirayuki shrink. Glass screen. Lightest phone on the market. State of the art circuitry...

All she could think of was the helpless bloop her battered little flip phone had made as it sunk beneath the water, and the unearthly crunch when Loretta had taken her giant maw to it.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs, shifting in her seat. “Even this one has a lot of -- of buttons. And screens.”

Yuzuri pauses, giving her a searching look. “Well sure. But you know, you can program actual songs as ring tones, right?”

Shirayuki stares. Actual songs... “As in, the midi file, or --?”

“Real songs.” Yuzuri looks far too satisfied with herself. “Here, let me just --” her fingers fly across the screen, and in less than three minutes, she’s handing it back, pulling her own out.

“Now don’t answer,” she warns her. “It’ll spoil the effect.”

Yuzuri picture pops up on the screen, and --

The opening bars of “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” ring out in the meeting room.

“Oh,” Shirayuki breathes. “Huh.”

I don’t want it to be so complicated, Doc had told the guy at the counter as he tried to push product, eyeing the black card on the formica like it was his own personal Jesus. I’m not good at...at computer stuff.

Hard for Obi to see any of that now, her red hair falling in a curtain around her as she bends over that phone, eyes squinted at the screen, and just -- what a load of shit that is. I’m not good at computer stuff. There isn’t a single thing Doc isn’t good at when she puts her mind to it.

She settles back, heaving a sigh and rubbing at the curve of her back, and he reminds her, “You know you don’t have to have a custom ring tone for everyone, right?”

“Well, yes.” She rubs at her eyes, shaking her head like she can clean afterimages like an etch-a-sketch. “I just -- I want to. For the aesthetic.”

“For the aesthetic,” he laughs, setting his computer aside. “You’re going to need glasses if you keep squinting that hard.”

She wrinkles her nose, and hmm, he’d like that, he thinks. Cute frames that are little too chunky to be pretty, but --

But he really needs to get his shit together. They’re flying back tomorrow morning, and -- and he needs to get used to there being other people around. Other people who know Zen. Other people who are Zen.

“I only have a few people left.” She blinks up at him. “I haven’t picked out yours yet. Do you have any suggestions?”

This is far too much power. She has zero pop culture grounding, and something like this is just -- asking for Rick Astley. Or Tom Jones. Something awful.

“Ever heard of ‘The Bad Touch,’“ he tries instead. He doesn’t expect it to work -- sure, Yuzuri calls her a woodland fairy creature or luddite wood nymph -- but she’s alive, everyone’s heard --

She blinks. “No?”

PRANK THAT KEEPS ON GIVING flashes through his head in big, neon letters. and he -- he can’t not do it. It’s just too much temptation for a flawed, human man. “Here, let me see if there’s a good clip of it.”

It takes no time at all, like the planets are aligning for this one sweet prank, a file that specifies second verse with intro. Perfect.

He’s not sure how he doesn’t give it away when he hands the thing back; his grin is hardly contained by his teeth, and his hands are probably shaking, but she just smiles at him and --

And he should probably feel bad. He does, for a moment; for that whole second it takes for him to call her phone and the music to start --

Doc nods along to the beat, looking a little confused, but pleased. “Okay, that’s pretty nice!”

She stops it before the words can even start. It’s a sign. This prank is meant to be.

And who is he to stand in the way of the universe?

“Great,” he says strained, trying to swallow down his grin. “Perfect.”

[roseravenkey]

Rider Challenge #3: The Beach

URL: @roseravenkey

@thescorpioracesfestival

Character: Tessa Westfall

Despite my turmoil of the news Rea gave me yesterday, I have to keep my wits about me today. Today is the first day all the capaill uisce will be on the beach at once. Sleipnir has been on the beach a few times, but not with this many capaill since last year’s races. He’s going to be more highly strung than normal. I must keep my wits about me. He will be like a different beast today. That’s the mistake people make on the beach that gets them killed. They think they know a capall, but when it’s that close to the sea with so many of its kind around it, they change. I will not make that mistake today. Someone will die, but I’ll make sure it won’t be me. 

I have Sleipnir groomed and tacked up, ready to take to the beach. He’s adorned with iron bells in his mane, tail, and feathers, laced in with his signature green ribbons. He looks handsome, but he’s skittish on the end of his rope, dancing and singing. He is not wearing his saddle. I don’t trust him enough to ride him today. No, today we will go down to the beach to get back into the feel of Scorpio again. It’s not just him I don’t trust today. I’ve seen a man be ripped clean out of his saddle at beach training by another capall. He had been afraid of his own, but he forgot about all the others that would be there. The last we saw of him, a group of capaill had surrounded him, bleeding red into the cold surf.

Sebastian and Rea are with me, bringing Dor and Jetta with them. Like Sleipnir, Dor and Jetta wear the iron bells and ribbons. Dor in blue, Jetta in deep red. Neither have a saddle on. It’s the way we were taught. The three of us seem to be the only ones with any sense on this island by not riding our capaill on the first day of beach training.

So we all walk the way to the beach. It’s not far, just ten minutes walk. Then again, nothing is very far on Thisby. As we presumed, the beach is swarming with capaill. We can see the mess of the beach. Hundreds of half moon crescents in the sand where the capaill have stood, the waves of the sea are being kicked up by man and beast alike, but the most chilling of all are the red smears of gore which have already begun to stain the sand crimson. 

We can see at the other end of the beach a fight between two capaill has broken out, so I make a mental note to avoid that area. Walking to the beach, we stand there, trying to get used to the beach again. I kind of love it, but it terrifies me. I’ll just think that Sleipnir is settling down, when a capall somewhere down the beach will scream and set him off again. He doesn’t cease his dancing as the capall screams again and he keens back. It’s an unearthly sound, the song of the capaill, and it chills me to the bone. Every time Sleipnir is set off, it irritates Jetta, who every time he makes a sound, she pins her ears and snakes her head at him, teeth bared. They’re far enough apart that as long as Rea and I keep our wits, we should be fine. In theory anyway. Dor likes the excitement of the beach, his tail is straight in the air, his head is high and his ears pricked. Unlike Sleipnir though, he is stood stock still, his nostrils flaring as he takes in the scents. Occasionally his head snaps around and he opens his mouth with his teeth on show when he hears or sees something new, but his feet do not budge until Sebastian tugs on his bridle.

Slowly, we manage to dodge capaill, salesmen, and running riders to edge closer to the water. There are less people closer to the water, as they are afraid of letting their capaill to close to it, lest they get dragged in, but we’ve been riding on the cliffs for a while now, the main reason we’re on the beach to start with is to help our mounts get used to the beach and the water. People are so afraid of the sea, but they forget to train their capaill to become more accustomed to being near it without going mad. That’s our strategy anyway. So we get to within feet of the waves, the salty wind lifting and knotting our hair. The capaill have their ears pricked toward the ocean, and far off in the distance I think I see something breach the surface. I look to my left and it seems Sebastian has seen it too. A look to my right at Rea confirms it. I look back to the spot among the waves to see if it emerges again. It does. The granite coloured head and neck of a wild capall uisce can be seen above the water for just a second until it disappears to the depths again. Granted none of them are ever completely tame, but this is a capall completely untouched by people. Dangerous and deadly.

None of us have spoken since getting to the beach. There’s hardly any point, it’s so loud we’d have a  hard time hearing each other. However our capaill are getting even more restless than they were before and we’ve been here maybe an hour or so, just creeping to the shoreline, so the three of us all look at each other and unanimously make the decision to call it a day. If we stay any longer, especially on the first day, we could put ourselves in serious danger. We walk back up the beach at an excruciatingly slow pace, and just before we leave the beach, we have to walk past a shape hidden under a white sheet. There are two things the sheet can’t cover though, the sheer amount of blood and gore seeping through it and on the ground around it, and the fact that the shape under the sheet is humanoid, but misshapen with joints at odd angles, pieces missing, and a chest cavity with a horrifying hole in it just too big for the sheet to mask. It was bound to happen, everyone knew it, someone was always going to die today, but even still, we are never ready for it. Sebastian is walking first and asks an official standing next to the body,

“Who was it?”

The official hesitates a little before replying,

“I suppose you have the right to know, Mr. Westfall. It was Old Farmer Jon Benet’s boy, Thomas.”

“Thank you, sir. Our condolences to the family.” My brother hides his emotions well, but I can tell he is distraught. Thomas had been one of his close friends for years. I put my hand over my mouth in shock.

“I’m sorry, lad. I know you were close.” 

Sebastian ducks his head now when he walks away with Dor, stooped and withdrawn. I can’t look at the sheet any longer. I dip my eyes to look at Sleipnir’s hooves as we follow Sebastian. We all walk home in silence. Rea splits off to go to her home with a quick goodbye. Once she’s gone, we continue to walk in silence. At home Sebastian turns to me,

“I’m sorry Tess, I need to go in. Please put Dor away for me? I just need... I just need to...”

“Yes, I understand. Pass him here and you go in.”

“Thanks Tessie.” He passes me Dor’s reins and strides into the house. I put away both capaill in their stables and gave them their feeds. I put Dor’s tack away on its peg, then take Sleipnir’s back to the house once I’m done and everything’s away. Walking in through the kitchen I see my brother hunched over in a seat at the kitchen table. He looks up as I come in. His eyes are bloodshot, cheeks flushed, and eyes streaming. I’ve never seen my brother in such a state and I can’t bear to see him like this. He sniffs and when he speaks his voice is cracked and raw.

“I’m sorry, Tess. It’s just that he was one of my best friends, you know? I just can’t get my head around the fact that I will never see him again.”

“Don’t be sorry, Sebs. You have a right to feel how you do. I feel crap too, and I didn’t hang out with him all that much so I can only imagine what it must be like for you.” I toss the bridle in my hand onto a chair and sit on the one next to it, opposite my brother.

“What can I do to help?” I ask him.

“I don’t know. I don’t think there is anything you can do.” He replies.

“How about a mug of hot chocolate? That’s a start at least.”

“Thank you, that’d be nice... Did I ever tell you I have the best sister in the world?”

I smile and stand up to make the hot drink for him. It’s the least I can do to help him grieve. Once it’s made he accepts it gratefully and I give him a hug before settling back in my chair opposite him. We sit there in the pale kitchen light in relative quiet with out drinks for a while until Sebs declares that he needs a little time alone. I gladly let him go to his room and I wash up before going upstairs too, taking Sleipnir’s bridle with me and hanging it on its hook on the wall.

[niel-trbl]

And July

Childhood Friend!Noh Taehyun AU

Note: this was requested by this anon! i love this song so much and i love that my 2 favs collab-ed on this track ㅠㅠ anw, hope you enjoy reading this one! drop me a request right here!

you and Taehyun have been friends for the longest time

your families were neighbours and were pretty close so that was how you met

you’ve seen each other through almost every phase in life, from running around in diapers to dragging yourselves to high school

that also meant you knew each other a little too well - all the embarassing stories to first loves to little habits you never knew you had

to you, he wasnt just your childhood friend or a neighbour, he is one of your greatest friends

Taehyun too feel the same way towards you

he would always look out for you so you always leaned on him

both of you often hang out together, sharing secrets and inside jokes

you too share similar dreams and had always talked about how it’d be amazing to be able to go to the city together to achieve them

after much persuasion to your parents, both of you packed your bags then headed to the city

you decided to stay together as roommates since you didnt know anybody else in the city

afterall, you’ve stayed over at each other’s house so often so you dont mind being each other’s roommates

almost as if it was planned, both of you landed a job in the same company - Taehyun as a trainee and you as a makeup artist apprentice

it was nice to be able to work in the same company as you still got to see each other but not as much as you thought

especially when you knew that Taehyun is an extreme hard worker, always staying at the training room till late, only home at unearthly hours to sleep before heading back again in the early morning

even his members get so worried seeing him like so

since they always update you on his condition, you always make it a point to come by the training room once in awhile to check up on him

during your visits, his members would often tease him, saying that his lover (you) has arrived

you always brushed it off - how can Taehyun be your lover? you love each other like best friends... right?

one day, you woke up early to make breakfast for the both of you

still in your pyjamas, you made your way to the kitchen

you were busy brushing your hair with your fingers when you saw Taehyun’s back facing you, standing by the stove

without a thought, your heart suddenly started beating so loudly, you thought everyone could hear it

what’s wrong with me?

Taehyun turned around and greeted you with that all-so-familiar smile of his as he scratched the back of his head

“hey, was I loud? i tried making breakfast for us,” he placed the food on the table

was Taehyun’s voice always this sweet?

“o-oh... thanks,” you managed to stutter out

as you ate breakfast, Taehyun would update you on how his week has been, something you did often since young

you tried your hardest to concentrate on his words but your mind was occupied by his voice

how smooth and melodious it sounded to you - which was weird

you kept downing your morning beverage, hoping that it would awaken you but it didnt

did his voice always have an effect on me?

“anyway, i need to go to the training room in a bit. i’ll see you later,” he ruffled your hair then headed to his room

your little heart started shaking up again at his gesture

you’ve known each other all your life, how is it that you are starting to develop these feelings for him?

months have passed and you still cant get rid of the feelings

you tried seeing other people but somehow your mind keeps going back to Taehyun

you thought of asking him since he always knew what to do

but that would mean you would have to confess your feelings to him

should i just tell it to him as it was someone else’s story?

spring season was slowly fading and you still have yet to say anything

it was driving you crazy, how the littlest things that you were used to suddenly felt like a new feeling

his close hugs, hair ruffling and compliments - they make you blush

you knew that if you hesitate any longer, you might see him with another person

but now seems a little too rushed and you’ve only had this feeling for awhile, maybe in June

when June came approaching, Taehyun got even busier, with the summer festivals and broadcast shows so you decided to wait it out again

and July finally came round

you werent as busy as expected, so was Taehyun

now would be the perfect time to let him know so you decided to drop him a text

Taehyun: are you free after work ltr?

you: yup! whats up?

Taehyun: i wna talk to you abt something, meet me at the training room ltr?

you: oh i wna talk to you abt something too! see you ltr

honestly you were a little nervous about what he wants to talk about

what if he catch on feelings like you did?

just the thought of it gave you butterflies

the moment you ended work, you headed to the training room right way, only to be greeted by Taehyun who was alone, concentrating on perfecting his choreo

“oh you’re here? sorry i didnt see you come in. did you wait for very long?” he saw you from the reflection of the mirror

“nope. so what did you want to talk about?”

he urged you to speak first but you insist on letting him go first, wanting to keep your confession as a surprise

you even got his favourite snacks as a present

July - you mentally marked it as the confession month

“i wanted to tell you this for the longest time ever, but im afraid of how you’d feel,” you were anticipating his next few words

“im seeing someone,” this wasnt what you expected

“they’re really nice! i cant wait for you to meet them. i think you’ll like them alot,” he continued

you felt your heart sank all the way to the bottom, almost if it couldnt carry the information that you just received

“yeah it’ll be great,” you lied, putting on your best fake smile which Taehyun thankfully fell for

“im so excited for this! wait what did you want to tell me?”

“oh! erm, well it’s nothing. i... just wanted to give you your favourite snacks since you worked so hard,” you reluctantly handed over the food

“what, are you serious? you’re the best! i really dont deserve you... wait, are you really okay?” Taehyun looked at you with worry

“yeah im fine! youre fine! im, just very happy for you,” he smiled and ruffled your hair as always

July - now you mentally marked it as the month of missed opportunities

[pixel-kila]

GET TO KNOW ME TAG

i was tagged by @ask-witch-namjoon​ & @ask-witch-jiminie​ ( u tagged me on my other one, im gonna do it here bb hehe lov u )

1. Are you named after someone?

yep!! well its not just someone but also something.. the something is my first name, and the second name is someone lmfao

2. When is the last time you cried?

last last night(?), i overthinked and stuff and i got emotional listening to certain songs

3. Do you like your handwriting?

NEVER. its ew ;/ but ehh they tease me its a doctor’s handwriting hahaha i aint complaining coz i wanna be a doctor

4. What is your favourite lunch meat?

tbvh i love all meat, but lunch.. i’ll have to go with chicken.. esp mcdo chicken or jollibee chicken or inasal chicken

5. Do you have kids?

does friends count? >w< i have a gc on twt where i am their mom and the another one in kkt where im considered a mom too lol and i have 2 shih tzu tho i consider them my brother/sister 

kidding aside, nop!

6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you?

sure why not, im p open for new friends! 

7. Do you use sarcasm?

sometimes, im not really good with sarcasm that much

8. Do you still have your tonsils?

im p sure yes???

9. Would you bungee jump?

okay! i have a funny story on this one >w< i tried bungee jumping once! and tbvh that bungee jump isnt even that high! like i swear its just not high and tbh the fall was machine controlled so not rlly that u’re free falling n sht.. but i got rlly scared wtF like i got scared i was on the top porch for so long i let the others behind me go first! i mean im already at the top and its a hassle to go multiple steps down so i just readied my self.. after there are no more customers behind me i did it.. damn i even prayed.. and like i said it was machine controlled so my fall isnt that fast or sth, but the fact that you’ll jump on ur own made me go mad //// but I did it anyways, and when i got down i cried.. I CRIEEEDDDD.. ToT i guess i was relieved.. but YUP i’ll def try it again, maybe the one in singapore/sokor.. someday

10. What’s your favourite cereal?

HONEY STARS & FRUIT LOOPS! i sometimes eat them without milk

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

yups, just a lil bit

12. Do you think you’re a strong person?

im in the middle of strong & weak

13. What’s your favourite ice cream flavour?

AVOCADO / CHOCOLATE / COOKIES N CREAM / CHOCOLATE W/ BROWNIES (( i cant pick one im sorry ))

14. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

their face and how they carry themselves

15. Red or pink?

pink... i dont like hot pink or rlly neon pink.. pastel pink def a fave

16. What is your least favourite physical thing about yourself?

my thighs..

17. What colour pants and shoes are you wearing right now?

im just at home right now so im wearing a pjs // orange, and blue for my house slippers

18. What was the last thing you ate?

adobo!! idk if you guys will know it ahah

19. What are you listening to right now?

spring day by bts

20. If you were a crayon what colour would you be?

baby blue / sky blue

21. Favourite smell?

im all for cherry blossoms perfumes, thats my fave! but any floral scent is a good one! i dont rlly like fruity smell / scent

22. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?

my dad

23. Favourite sport to watch?

basketball

24. Hair colour?

medium brown i guess

25. Eye colour?

dark brown

26. Do you wear contacts?

nop!

27. Favourite food to eat?

uh... THIS IS HARD... I LOV ALL FOOD?? but comfort food is french fries + ice cream! i could eat ‘em all day

28. Scary movies or comedy?

i’d prefer scary movies, but i dont watch it alone!!

29. Last movie you watched?

max steel!! 

30. What colour shirt are you wearing?

yellow :>

31. Summer or winter?

winter.. i lov coldness that makes u feel warm.. so winter

32. Hugs or kisses?

def both!! but im always down for hugs a lot!

33. What book are you currently reading?

im in a fanfic phase right now aaahhh i stopped reading the book im reading, but its “unearthly” (about fallen angels and stuff)

34. Who do you miss right now?

my heart is cold, i dont miss anyone at the moment

35. What is on your mouse pad?

i dont have a mouse pad....

36. What is the last tv show you watched?

errr are kdramas considered a tv show? coz if it is, its goblin! ;)

37. What is the best sound?

PIANO... it’s just so calming?? but um i also love the sound of water.. even if its rain or the beach waves.. i lov it

38. Rolling Stones or The Beatles?

idk them?? i mean i know the beatles but i havent actually listened to any of their songs so idkkk

39. What is the furthest you’ve ever travelled?

los angeles! my butt hurt from seating in the airplane

40. Do you have a special talent?

um.. i draw?? hehe

41.Where were you born?

manila, philippines!

NOTE: IF U FINISHED READING UNTIL HERE I LOV U! LET ME KNOW IF U READ IT ALL URE PRECIOUS hehehehe ~

im tagging @ask-model-taetae @ask-bts-stuff @ask-blogger-jimin @ask-bts-rapline @ask-bunny-jungkook @ask-cottoncandy-tae @ask-college-taegi @ask-95z