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lefinohohohohon · 3 years ago

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DCKZ (Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli) Idol!AU Genshin Impact

DCKZ HOW THE GROUP WAS FORMED:

DCKZ is a fanmade k-pop group based on Genshin Impacts's character " Diluc, Childe. Kaeya, and Zhongli as an idol group in an Idol AU.

Character design belongs to @veechu (please check it out and give them love)

Some of the headcanons I used for references came from Erica's comment on "ventiffin"'s youtube video:

Link: (195) Pov: 4NEMO & DCKZ are having a rap battle | a playlist - YouTube

and Yajle Gaite on riko's youtube playlist: (196) attending a dckz concert – a genshin playlist - YouTube

P.S Diluc & Kaeya's part is longer since their together.

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Childe:

Ajax or as he was known currently with his fans because of his various song covers "Tartaglia" had just finished tidying up his recording room to attend his practice session at the gym for MMA, as he was placing his spare clothes on his duffle bag, he took a quick swipe at his phone buzzing with notification at his latest cover.

A sweet genuine smile carved at Childe's face as he reads a thousand messages on his post as he was savoring the joyful and thirsty comments as well as memes about him a message from an unknown sender appeared on his screen curious, Childe tap on the email sent to him when he reads who was the sender he was both thrilled at the same time skeptical.

'This couldn't possibly be true, can't it? No way?'

he thought to himself, eyes wide open, body shaking of nervousness and excitement. He took the hand that had covered his mouth in a shock away and took a deep breath gulping down a breath he had not noticed he was holding

"Okay, Ajax just chill. . . just chill man, you still don't know what the message is about don't get ahead, Oh Tsaritsa what should I do?" he told himself and slowly exhaled before continuing to read the rest of the content

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"Greetings, Tartaglia!

On behalf of Geo Ent. we would like to express our desire to have you as one of our new talents. Currently, Geo Ent. has been looking for new trainees for a new idol group, your recent crack cover had made the Geo ent. scout you, the company believes that with your talents and charisma you will be a great asset to Geo ent as one of its rising stars.

If you have any clarifications regarding our offer, you may call us at XXXX- XXX-XXXX or email us with this email address at any given time and if you prefer to personally talk you may visit us at "Golden Pavilion, Liyue" we will cover your travel expense and accommodation for the duration of your stay regarding our offer.

Thank you and we hope your decision will be in our favor. We are looking forward to hearing from you soon!

Sincerely,

Katherine

Geo Ent.

Talent Scout Manager

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A scream from his room interrupted Ajax's family, everyone looked atop the stairs as heavy footsteps hastily descend upon the living room where everyone was eating snacks, Ajax who was still ecstatic at the email he had received hugged his siblings tightly and kissed his mother on the cheek before taking Teucer his younger brother and tossing him gleefully in the air the younger boy happily cried "higher brother, higher!" Teucer said

"Hahaha, of course, anything for my little brother" he laughed while catching Teucer.

"Hahaha, You're beaming, there must be something good, да?" Ajax's father commented as he chuckled at his son's antics when he gets excited

"My, my you seemed to be happy Ajax, did something happen?" Ajax's mother commented as she continued to watch the brothers lovingly, upon hearing his mother he threw Teucer one more time in the air before catching him and placing him down safely on the floor with their other siblings, Ajax smiled toothly at his mother before nestling down between his mother and father who sat on the sofa clasping each of their hands on his as he breathed steadying his excited heart.

"I received an email from a company" he started trying to assess his parents

"Oh? From who? Is it a sponsorship from that brand you want?" His mother inquired knowing too well that his son was already famous to have some sponsorship from different companies.

Ajax chuckled, he knew his family will be shocked at the news he was about to tell them "Hmm, better" he teased eyeing his father this time to see his reaction

"Better, huh?" His dad started then a twinkle of surprise resurfaced on his father's eyes as he made a deduction "Don't tell me? Are you serious Ajax?" His father continued as he assumed what could be better than having sponsorship from a company

"They're hiring you? What company? No! wait! don't tell me it wouldn't be any regular company who will message you especially with what you often do. . . so it has to be-"

Before his father could even continue Ajax, answered for him "Geo Ent. invited me to be one of their new talents for an idol g-"

Before he could even say everything else, Ajax was clamored down by his siblings who were listening and his father on the sofa congratulating him.

"Congratulations son! I know you had it in you, especially since you have my face, hahaha!"

"Congratulations! Big brother!"

"Big brother will be famous soon! Will you be cosplaying as Mr. Cyclops too?"

"Big brother is talented so of course they want you to be their talent!"

"Now, now I haven't given them their answer which reminds me I have to call them now to- uh, mom?" Ajax called after noticing that his mother standing on the other side of their house pulling what seemed to be a bunch of large travel luggage.

"Ajax, dear, do you think these pieces of luggage will be enough for your things while you stay in Liyue, or do we need to buy more?" Her mother probed and all he could Ajax do was laughed at his excited family.

"Let me call them first"

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Diluc & Kaeya:

A selca here, a selca there, and of course a selca of his favorite brother should also be included in his latest insta, though Kaeya wished that Diluc would smile more at his pictures of him, he always looked aloof

"Can you please try to smile at least once, when I take your picture?" Kaeya whined mumbling that his brother's good looks are wasted with his unchanging face

"I would if you stopped placing unnecessary caption on my pictures and for the last time Kaeya, stop drinking! It's the middle of the day" Diluc retorted eyeing his brother's various drinks placed neatly all at once on the VIP lounge they are currently staying at in "Cat's tail".

'He's not going to drink all of this, is he?'

Diluc thought to himself innocently before his brows started scrunching a moment later at the possibility of it happening, after all this is Kaeya he was talking about, his self-proclaimed wine/alcohol-connoisseur brother Kaeya.

He sighed exasperatedly plopping his head on the velvet backrest of the chair he is currently sitting on his back facing his brother

"Why am I with you again?" He asked out loud asking himself more than his brother who he accompanied, he often wonders to himself what made him go along with Kaeya's wine tasting adventure despite disliking alcohol himself.

"Because you're my big brother and you love me and despite your nagging, you wanted to make sure I enjoy what I'm doing safely- does that answer your question"

"Yeah, that's right because I care too much about you that's what big brothers do" Diluc mumbled back while patting a cat on his lap that has somehow managed to make it thru their private lounge. Kaeya grinned all too knowingly at his brother recording their conversation live secretly to his followers on insta with the camera facing his brother's back, he's sure Diluc will kill him if he saw what he was doing but for now, while he's still alive, he'll savor his brother's words. He might be too mischievous but he sincerely appreciates Diluc's love for him despite their constant petty fights.

"Kaeya, just promise me you won't- huh?" Just as Diluc was turning to face Kaeya he noticed his brother's phone and his shit-eating grin plastered on his tanned brother leaning one arm on the velvety lounge chair suddenly he felt the want to strangle someone to death.

"Aww~ <3, mind repeating that? My followers are crying over your message"

The cat who was sitting on Diluc's lap leaped out of the other male sensing the impending danger that is about to happen in the lounge.

"KAEYA. . . . .. . !"

"Well, that's it for now my followers! Pray that'll be alive after this! Bye!-"

"KAEYA!"

was the last word Kaeya's followers heard before the live ended.

"Please come again!" The hostess Margaret said as the two good-looking brothers left the establishment with one looking aloof once again arms crossed over his chest while the other looked scruffy following behind the older red-head male sighing

"Must you waste good alcohol? I was looking forward to tasting those!" Kaeya felt dejected after not having even a sip of any of the cocktails he ordered, he glared dagger at Diluc

"It's for your own good, I told you, too much alcohol isn't good for you" Diluc sighed not even looking at his brother as they walked to the street, he was specifically trying to find Good Hunters to order chicken skewers for Kaeya since he knew his brother is upset.

"I haven't even got a single sip! And I paid for those"

"Of course you should, you ordered them after all," Diluc said eyeing the shop across from them, he waited for Kaeya to be on his side before patting his brother's back to led him to cross the street, Kaeya huffed while walking and looking at his brother dead in the eye he can't believe he paid for nothing

"But I didn't break the glasses why did you use my card to pay for those as well?"

"To maximize your card limit so you can't pay for anymore cocktail"

"What. . .?!" Kaeya couldn't believe what he was hearing, he won't be able to drink any at all, tears started forming on his visible eye quickly and sniffing could also be heard a second later, Diluc turned to look at this brother with crocodile tears he sighed again for the nth time today

He can be so melodramatic sometimes and I'm an idiot for always indulging him

He thought brows knotted together as he waits for Kaeya to deliver his 'guilt-ridden' lines he often uses at him to get his way, his brother is too good at mind games

"H-how could you. . . I thought you love me as your younger brother maybe you really-"

"-STOP"

". . ."

"sighs* first let's get you some chicken skewers, I know you're really upset even if you don't really show it and when we get home I'll make you some death afternoon"

"Really? Aww! Thanks Luc! You're really are the best big bro! hehehe" And as quickly as Kaeya summoned his tears as quickly as it also disappeared across his face replaced with his infamous shit-eating grin knowing he got his way again, he patted Diluc's back as he quickly makes his way towards Good Hunter to order chicken skewers, he'll order a few to eat at Good hunters and order some more to bring back at the mansion he'll have to convince Diluc as well to give him sparkling wine to make his fruity chicken skewers he's sure his brother wouldn't mind.

Just as Kaeya was placing his order, Diluc sat at one of the open tables on the veranda and waited for his brother when he noticed a bobbed-cut black-haired woman staring in their direction, Diluc paid her no mind thinking that the woman was probably one of Kaeya's follower on insta waiting for Kaeya to return to have a photo ops with his brother

"Hey, Luc! You don't mind if I ordered some chicken skewer to go, right?"

speak of the devil, Kaeya nonchalantly walked back to him all smiles this time as he took his seat parallel to his brother "Sure, whatever makes you happy. . . by the way" Diluc leaned forward arms still crossed as he placed them atop the table "Kaeya I think that woman is one of your-"

"-She isn't" Kaeya responded strongly as he places one of his arms above the table cradling his chin on his palm looking at the counter to see if his chicken skewers are ready

"Oh, and how do you know? You haven't even looked at her?" he rose one incredulous brow at his younger brother. It always amazes Diluc how Kaeya can be quite perceptive of things when it's convenient for him.

"Because that woman has been following us since we left the Dad's office this morning"

What?!

A look of disbelief flashed on Diluc's handsome face at the realization and knotted his brows later at his brother's words

"If she's been following us since the beginning" Diluc emphasized, "why did you tell me only now?" He sighed closing his eyes trying to alleviate the incoming migraine he's about to have, he tapped the table with his finger waiting for Kaeya's explanation, his brother is preceptive he wouldn't be so careless especially since the two of them are well-known sons of the world-famous wine-tycoon Crepus Ragnvindr it is bond that there will be people who are after them either to do them harm or to gain something from their family.

"Relax, she doesn't look dangerous or to be more precise she isn't with someone dangerous though we'll have to verify that once she talks to us"

And just as Kaeya spoke, the woman who had been tailing them stood from her seat and politely approached them

"Good day gentlemen, may I take some of your time?" she stated with a polite smile looking at the two brothers

Diluc only nodded in acknowledgment while Kaeya gave her his fan-service smile

"Of course, please have a seat you must have been tired waiting for the right time to approach and talk to us, aren't you? You should have just come forward instead of stalking us, you do know that's a crime right? I can report you easily to the police but of course, that'll depend on your reasons" With a friendly facade, Kaeya warned the young woman openly of what he can do if he finds anything about her intention dangerous, the young woman was surprised and at the same time embarrassed for looking like a suspicious person, well she could understand their apprehensive behavior towards her, she was after all following them since the beginning.

She cleared her throat and offered her hand to formally introduce herself "I apologize if my action seemed suspicious to you Mr. Diluc and Mr. Kaeya it's only for my line of work. I'm Katherine by the way"

The brother's looked at Katherine's extended hand before looking at one another assessing Katherine's words, Kaeya took her hand first smiling while Diluc just watched, his brother is better than him when it comes to conversation especially to strangers

"Yes, it's indeed suspicious for an unknown young woman to follow and even know something about us, so tell me what kind of job stalks people? I haven't read anything of that sort from the classified ads or is it that the government legalized stalking, hmm?"

Okay, Diluc takes it back, his brother is definitely not good at normal conversation Kaeya's better at interrogating he has forgotten his brother used to be in the military. He should take over before Kaeya makes the young woman even flustered as she was already.

"What my brother is trying to say is to please explain to us why were you following us, I apologize if we're a bit apprehensive with you but I guess you already know why we're like that so if you wouldn't mind, we'd like to hear your reason"

Seeing the window of opportunity to be heard, Katherine immediately blubbered the purpose of her stalking the handsome brothers forgetting the tell them about the company and whatnot.

"IwasscoutingyoutobepartofournewIdolgroup!"

". . . " ". . .huh?"

was the only response of the brothers

"I-I mean, the two of you are already well-known and has a great number of fanbase on insta, the company was looking for new talents such as you two when we saw your insta stories of Mr. Diluc performing a jazz song on a piano and Mr. Kaeya's guitar cover the higher-ups decided to make an offer to the both of you that's why I was following you"

". . . I . . . see"

". . hmm"

Again, the brothers only looked at her with doubt, Katherine could already see on their heads she was being labeled as a 'scammer'

Embarrassed and unable to bear the brothers piercing doubtful gazes, Katherine hastily stood from her seat

"A-anyway, now that I have said what I needed to say, please excuse me and thank you for sparing me your time, i-if you have any doubts about my offer you can visit us at "Golden Pavillion, Liyue" though she was embarrassed, Katherine made an effort to politely offer her business card before fleeing the scene leaving the brothers confused and curious at the same time, the brothers looked at the business card left to them and looked at one another

"It's a scam," the two of them said in unison they deduced, however, the two of them were still curious, Kaeya was about to reach out to take the business card when his name was called up from the counter of Good Hunters for his chicken skewers, Diluc still looking at the business card left by Katherine gave Kaeya his card to pay for his order and take-away when Diluc was left on the table alone, he took the unique looking card and swiped his thumb on the high-quality bronze gold-like colored business card written on its front was Katherine's name and her position as a Talent Scout Manager and other contact details but nothing about the company.

"an Idol, huh" he breathed still eyeing the card, a longing gaze swept across his handsome face as recalls a childhood dream he once had to be a musical performer just like his deceased mother, he recalls his earliest memories of his mother playing the piano while he sang, his father Crepus listening to the mother-son duet with the proudest and happiest look a father could ever have and even when his mother died, Diluc continued to play for his grieving father, music made it less painful for the both of them and made it easier for them to remember the happiest time with his mother.

The first time Diluc thought of being a musician was when he met Kaeya, compared before his brother was frail and timid not like the confident flirt and perceptive- bastard he is now. When Kaeya was first brought to their mansion at the winery his brother had trouble sleeping, being plagued with nightmares night after night, worried, and unable to bear Kaeya's suffering he took his younger brother to the music room one night and sat him comfortably with one of the chairs as he plays one of his mother's pieces hoping it will help his little brother when he finally finished playing he was surprised to find his brother sleeping soundly on the chair and since then, every night Diluc would take Kaeya to the music room and make a pillow fort together so they could sleep comfortably after Diluc finishes playing the piano and just like every night Kaeya would be asleep on his part of the bed Diluc would tuck his brother up, however, that night was different someone else has already tucked Kaeya on their self-made pillow fort

"Dad, you're home," Diluc said as he stood up from the chair and made a beeline towards his father, hugging the older male as Crepus knelt to received his son's affection.

"I wanted to come home early since I heard Kaeya was having trouble sleeping but I guess you already took care of it, huh?" Crepus chuckled as he ruffled his son's fluffy red hair"

"Of course! I'm his big brother, I need to protect him, heheh" Diluc beamed at his dad proudly with a toothy smile "Dad, I want to be a musician just like mom so I can play the pieces she composed and also help Kaeya sleep better! Kaeya needs to sleep a lot if he wants to be big as me so I'll play the piano for him every time he has a hard time sleeping"

Crepus chuckled at his son's determination and admired his reason, Diluc was always warm-hearted just like his deceased wife "Thank you Diluc, you're really a great big brother to Kaeya"

For years Crepus and Kaeya had been supportive of his dream of becoming a musician until that one fateful day of his 18th birthday, His father, Kaeya, and their acquaintances prepared a birthday party for him at one of their many branches worldwide in Angels Share located in Mondstadt he was excited not only because he's at a legal age now but because he also received a letter of acceptance to one of the prestigious music school, he knew Kaeya and his Dad will be thrilled at the news, however, everything from that day had been a nightmare for him It was the day he learned the truth about his father's health condition and Kaeya's reason why he was adamant about going to Khaenri'ah.

That day on his 18th birthday everything changed, the father he once thought was healthy was sick and the brother he thought who wouldn't hide anything from him was keeping a secret.

"Kaeya, why didn't you tell me dad was sick! I thought there was no secret between us?! And why am I only hearing about your trip to Khaenri'ah now? What are you planning on doing in that place?! You're barely legal!"

"sigh* Just focus on becoming a musician Luc, you don't need to concern yourself with me going to Khaenri'ah as for dad's health he made me promise not to tell you because he knew you will act like this"

"To hell with how I act! I deserve to know what's happening to my family. Tell me the truth Kaeya!"

In that instant, on his 18th birthday, Diluc's dream of becoming a musician was left focusing solely on the family business, he also made sure that Kaeya will finish his military training and become an accomplished Brigadier General at such a young age just like his brother's dream. Kaeya's dream shouldn't be compromised because of his family's business, Diluc always thought Kaeya should deserve better but after 4 yrs of only serving his bastard of a brother retired from his position the moment he was back from establishing a branch in Khaenri'ah stating he missed him and the taste of wine and prefers to work as a wine-connoisseur instead. With years apart he didn't even know Kaeya started playing the guitar to fill the silent hollow covering their mansion when he stopped playing any instrument, though they weren't as close as they used to 4 yrs ago, they're trying their best to live as brothers.

He was still reminiscing about the past when he heard Kaeya's voice near him

"Want to check it out?" his brother probed as he took his seat a platter of chicken skewers placed in front of him and another bag to take home, Diluc didn't answer and simply placed the unique looking card back at the table saying nothing

"I'm curious as well Luc, let's go" Kaeya insisted after taking a graceful bite of his skewer

"You already said it yourself, it's a scam why bother?"

"Yeah, but I mean there is nothing we could lose by checking it out and if it's really a scam then I could just report it to the guys back at the military, I'm still a military officer you know"

"A retired military officer" Diluc corrected, Kaeya paid his comment no mind and insisted "Come on Luc, let's try it out, you've put a hold of your dream as a musician for a long time now, I've become a military officer just like my dream, Dad's health is alright and you already succeeded in opening a branch in Khaenri'ah so, what's holding you up?"

Diluc sighed, Kaeya is right everything's fine now, except for him, he guessed it's about time for him to fulfill his dream, Diluc sighed once again but this time it wasn't due to annoyance from his brother but rather he sighed of relief of finally letting himself accomplished his dream

"Fine, let's check it out" he finally answered

"Great!" Kaeya cheered "You heard him loud and clear right, dad? We'll visit Liyue soon"

What? Dad?! Since when did Kaeya had been talking to dad?

"you snake. . . " Diluc mumbled under his breath looking at his giggling brother who managed to manipulate him again, he heard their father's hearty laugh from the other end "Thank you Kaeya, make sure Diluc's wish comes true, alright?"

"Of course, dad, anything for my big bro that's a promise" Kaeya looked at his brother adoringly as he told their father however before Kaeya could end the call, Diluc took his phone and left a clear declaration of his new dream and goal.

"Don't worry Dad, I'll make sure to fulfill my dream- becoming a musician along with my little brother"

"what. . . ? Why am I involve in this?" Kaeya whispered over the phone

"Because I've had a different dream this time, performing with you, didn't you say you'd do anything for your big bro?" Diluc stated as a matter of factly "Or are you just saying that, maybe you never meant it and hated your big bro-"

"-Alright! Fine I'll audition with you" Kaeya couldn't believe Diluc copied his guilt-ridden strategy, he should be more careful now around his brother until now he only thought it would only work on Diluc and not back-fired at him

Over the phone, Crepus was laughing loudly at his sons' exchanged, he was happy, joyous even knowing that his two pride and joy are still getting along despite the rift that had happened between them.

"Alright, do your best boys but just in case bring someone else with you, it'll put my heart at ease knowing you two are safe, will that be alright?"

"of course dad," the brothers said in unison, laughing at one another.

The following day at the Golden Pavillion, Katherine who was busy checking any response from the talent she had scouted was abruptly called by the receptionist because of a commotion at their company's lobby. Upon reaching the said lobby Katherine was surprised to see a lot of black-suited men guarding every corner of their building looking for anything suspicious when one of the black-suited men noticed her, the man straightforwardly asked her without reserved "Excuse me ma'am are you, Katherine?"

"uhh. . . y-yes! Why did I do something?" Katherine asked nervously racking her brain for any memory that would warrant her for an arrest of some sort but as soon as she saw a pair of good-looking men walking her way, she recalled one of the brother's threat

"- You should have just come forward instead of stalking us, you do know that's a crime right? I can report you easily to the police but of course, that'll depend on your reasons"

No way! Is she going to be arrested for stalking Crepus Ragnvindr's sons?!

Oh, God, I was only scouting them, I didn't mean to do anything illegal!

Katherine silently prayed as the group of men parted to make way for the two young men, contrary to what Katherine imagined of disdain from the brothers because of her scouting, The two looked friendlier than before, the younger brother Kaeya if she remembers even smiled and waved at her calling her but she shouldn't let her guard down, compared to the older brother Diluc who looks intimidating is less of a threat compared to Kaeya.

"Oh, Ms. Katherine we were looking for you!"

"y-yes? H-how can I help you" she answered in surprise, readying herself for any possible threat the younger male may speak

"We're here to discuss your offer from last time, does it still stands?" Diluc the older brother inquired and for a moment, Katherine felt she was dreaming or is this another ploy to threaten her because they misunderstood her scouting them, she was silent for a minute or two before Kaeya probed her

"Hmm, Ms. Katherine?"

"Ah! Y-yes? I'm sorry I was spacing out" she started still frightened at her surroundings "I'm just overwhelmed with. . ." she looked around her and to the black-suited clad men in the lobby ". . . with this. I was expecting it'll only be you two to visit our building" she explained while the brothers only looked at her understanding what the young woman meant, it could really be intimidating to be surrounded by a lot of bodyguards, however, Kaeya snickered despite trying to apologize profusely at the scene they made

"pfft. . hehehe I-I . . . hehehe . . .we're so sorry if that's what you felt Ms.Katherine but you also have to understand our side, you left immediately after saying your piece without any explanation and your business card doesn't even give any hint about your company" Kaeya explained

"WHAT?!" Katherine spoke, now that she recalls she indeed forgot to tell them because of Kaeya's threat

"We sincerely thought it was a scam and just decided to check the place you mentioned, we just took some extra precautions just in case, I hope you understand, hehehe"

"I-I. . . yes alright, I understand, t-then are the both of you auditioning or just one of you?"

The brothers looked at one another, a knowing smile grazing their handsome faces as they answer Katherine in unison.

"Both of us, if you don't mind"

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Zhongli:

He was taking his usual stroll in the city trying to relieve another stressful day at work, he had no destination on mind letting his feet take him when he noticed a bunch of freshly picked Qingxin flowers being displayed in the flower shop, Zhongli seeing the flower made him stood in place, a look of longing for someone was reflected on his amber-golden eyes and for a moment he felt the wind blew gently at him swaying his long tied hair

'Oh yeah? Let's see who sings better? You may have that deep alluring voice but I can sing better than you! heh"

'I hope I can see the two of you perform soon! I wouldn't miss it for the world'

"Is it that time already?" he asked himself looking at the clear blue sky above him smiling although with a hint of melancholy, without another word Zhongli purchased a bunch of Qingxin flowers thanking Hu Tao for reminding him of his wallet and as if the wind were guiding him, Zhongli walked where ever the wind blew and before he knew where he was heading he found himself listening to a sound of a harp playing in the distant the soft melodies flowing in the air made him stop on his tracks and a vision of young woman sat with the harp playing covered his eyes

". . . Guizhong?" he mumbled one hand reaching out to the phantom image of his long-gone lover and a second later he felt himself walking towards her mirage only for him to realize his mind was playing tricks at him again. He stood in silence a prick of pain throb his chest slowly growing to his whole body, he covered his handsome stern face with his free hand and heaved a deep sigh not to recollect himself but rather to shake off the incoming tears in his eyes.

'I really love listening to your voice Zhongli, when you become famous don't forget to sing for me, okay?'

'I'll always be by your side to support you so don't worry about me '

'you worry too much Zhongli, hehehe I may be small compared to you but I can take care of myself, just focus on your dream you made a bet with Barbatos after all'

Try as hard as he can, the emotions insides him betrayed him and a tear slowly cascaded his face at the memory of Guizhong and his time with her, he felt bittersweet at the memory. He was able to achieve what he wants but the person he wants to show his achievement was no longer with him.

How ironic but we can't all have the good things in life can't we?

He thought as he carefully wiped the remnants of his tears across his face and composed himself again before walking once again to give the flowers to its owner.

As Zhongli walked the pavement towards the cemetery where Guizhong's tombstone lies he noticed a smaller male sitting in front of her laughing to himself as he lifts a goblet of what seems to be a wine to the air

"I hope you're happy there dear, our beloved stern-face brutish blundering buffoon finally decided to uphold our bet, heh - though I might say it took longer but don't worry the wait is worth it so please keep watching over him, alright? He's. . . . well, busied himself with others after you were gone can't blame him, you were precious to him" the smaller male said as if he was talking to a person, he leaned back admiring the clear blue sky a soft breeze of the wind passed as if it was agreeing to what he had said earlier about Zhongli not realizing that the male in question was just standing a couple of feet away from them his looming shadow cast over the shorter male as he approaches and a look of disdain clearly pasted on his face.

"Oh, so I'm stern-face blundering baffoon, huh? Oh, how convenient that there's stone here, you wouldn't mind me hitting you with it won't you Barbatos?" Zhongli sarcastically said tossing the pebble in his hand in the air up-down, up-down like a warning as he eyed the man

"hahaha, did I say that? I wasn't actually talking about you rather -"

"huh, save it, Barbatos" The taller man sighed "though I'm surprised to find you here I heard you are busy with your pre-debut" Zhongli threw the pebble to the ground to the relief of Barbatos and sat next to the smaller male offering the Qingxin flower and a short prayer wiping away the dust and dirt that littered her tomb

Hello, love it's been a while since I lost visit, I hope Barbatos, Xiao, and Ganyu has been keeping you company for me

He told her silently before he looked back at the shorter male eyeing the wine on his goblet

"Osmanthus?" Zhongli probed

"The one and only I know you like this stuff and what better way to taste it on the day you finally accepted Geo ent.'s offer, heheh" Barbatos chuckled as he poured another goblet to Zhongli and another in a smaller cup to Guizhong's tomb.

The two men sat in silence neither tasting the wine and just relishing the peace between them before Barbatos cut the silence

"Guizhong's case. . . it's finally closed, right?" he asked carefully, knowing it's a sensitive topic to his friend

Zhongli only nodded as he gracefully took a sip of the precious wine in his goblet

"I'm glad Guizhong finally had justice . . . she wouldn't have it if it weren't for you I'm sure she's thankful for you up there"

"I need to see to it that I closed her case, I wouldn't have peace if I allowed the criminal who wronged her not be punished" as Zhongli said that Barbatos noticed that somehow Zhongli was able to find peace- though a bit of longing hangs from his face from to time it's better than seeing his old friend looking desperate and empty

Barbatos sighed, "yeah, you've been busy. . . even becoming a lawyer heheh~ so, I guess I have to be careful with my words now, huh? or I might have a court order" he jested knowing all his friend's activities in the past couple of years and why Zhongli only accepted the Geo ent.'s offer despite being scouted for several years

Zhongli was busy chasing and fighting the court for Guizhong's murder busy enough that his friend grew a bit distant from his relatives Xiao and Ganyu, that was the only reason why his friend became a lawyer and Barbatos doubts his friend will seriously take any more clients after this case was closed, after all, he wouldn't have accepted Geo ent.'s offer if he's serious about his law career, right?

"Don't worry yourself, this will be the first and last case I'll handle" as if reading his mind, Zhongli responded clearing any doubt from his friend "though, if you break any contracts, I wouldn't mind suing you. .. . you still recall our bet right? A rematch who's a better singer? I'll be upholding that against you, Barbatos" Zhongli chuckled after taking another sip of the wine

"Of course I remember, heh! And it's not Barbatos call me 'Venti' now that's my screen name"

"I see. . . that's better compared to being called 'Barb' or 'atos', Xiao's also debuting with you. . . correct?" Zhongli asked remembering that his younger relative becoming close to his friend while he was busy with his law career.

"Yeah, we have 2 other members joining, you know Aether from ABYSS right? and then there's Kazuha Beidou's protege from Inazuma, You better prepare yourself Zhongli with my group we'll definitely crush you on our rematch, heheh"

Barbatos or as he would like to call himself now 'Venti' jokingly threatened his old rival to which Zhongli paid no mind and just smiled at him

"I doubt that"

"Oh, aren't you confident? Lemme guess you're being grouped as well? I thought they offered you an exclusive solo contract?"

"They were, however, I asked them to change it mainly because I'm already old and youths prefer something more trendy and younger appearances and I believe we would lose to your group when it comes to charisma and looks"

Zhongli finished explaining before he felt his phone vibrated the company number of the Geo ent. flashing on his screen unexpectedly, it was too soon for them to call him regarding the other members. He stood from his seat and dusted off some of the dirt on his pants

"I'll see you around Barba- I mean 'Venti' they're calling me"

"Don't sweat it, I'll look after Guizhong for a while before I head back and the next time we see each other it should be on stage, remember that, okay?" Venti called over as Zhongli started walking away to answer his call giving him one final look.

When he was finally out of earshot, Zhongli answered the phone the familiar voice of Katherine the talent scout manager greeted him

"Hello, Mr. Zhongli, are you available today for a meeting?"

"I am, what is the meeting all about?" he asked

"It's about your other bandmates, they're here, and we would like for you to get to know one another before proceeding with the formation of your group,"

At her answer, Zhongli saw a young woman was standing beside a plum blossom tree smiling at him the words the woman mouthed made him smile before her mirage disappeared along with the breeze.

'thank you & congratulations Zhongli . . .'

"Mr. Zhongli?. . . will you be available sir?"

Katherine's voice brought him back from his trance, he took a second or two before responding a smile evident in his voice.

"yes, I would love to meet them"

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin zhongli #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact childe #genshin impact idol au #genshin impact dckz #genshin dckz

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anobscurename · 4 years ago

Text

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XII — masterlist

concept: chris is hosting a charity event, and asks you to be his date. tensions come to a head in the friendship group when things get out of hand. the slowest of slow burns. part thirteen of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader // platonic!sebastian stan x reader

word count: 5,1k

warnings: tw:blood (reader breaks a glass and accidentally cuts herself), angst

author's note: the quote that is bolded in this part is a direct quote from chadwick boseman. as a south african, he, and his portrayal of the black panther, meant the world to me. i very briefly considered making the gala in this part be held in his honour, but i felt it might be insensitive, especially with everything else effectively overshadowing it. so i just included the quote as a little ode to him. rest well, king.

If scientists were ever to turn their dissecting gaze to the the phenomenon of The Third Wheel, you would be a prime specimen candidate for study.

Because in that week she stayed, your status was relegated to just that: a third wheel.

The tabloids had fun with that, too. You were becoming a national treasure of a meme. You'd even seen yourself on Twitter the other day, the caption reading "my friends vs me" attached to some sneakily taken paparazzi picture of you reading a book under a tree in the park while looking every bit as stone-faced and disinterested while Chris and Lily could barely keep their hands off each other.

In every photo that followed, it was the same. If you wanted to keep someone distracted for hours, ask them to pore over every single newly published photo of Lily and Chris, and try and find a single one where they weren't touching eachother.

They'd come up empty, because it was a waste of time. Overnight, Chrily had become the new celebrity couple of the moment.

And you'd become the patron saint of third wheels everywhere.

It wasn't like you'd forced yourself on the couple, begging to go out with them. If anything, you would've much rather been in Tibet, if not the furthest geographical location away from them and their canoodling.

But the thing about Lily was that she was so damned nice, that whenever you declined their offer, she would insist until you said yes.

The newest picture on your feed, retweeted lovingly by your friends and apparently thirty thousand people worldwide, was of you, mid-eyeroll, mouth stuffed with pizza while Chris and Lily cuddled next to you at the restaurant you had gone to earlier that week for lunch, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. The caption was the forever classic "mood."

You tried not to groan. It wasn't particularly flattering, and definitely not dignified having so many people watch you endure this.

At least the paps couldn't follow you into the house, because that was where the real magic happened. Many a night you would wait patiently for Chrily to stop whatever it was they were doing on the couch and take it back to the bedroom before you'd sneak into the kitchen, trying to stealthily drown your sorrows in Hagen Dasz.

Because once they'd take it to the bedroom... needless to say, Dodger had become a regular bunk mate of yours, and the bathroom doors remained firmly shut with music blasting on your earphones.

There were different kinds of sadness rejection could leave you with. There was the immobilizing kind, the kind that would leave you bed bound and catatonic, purely unable to move.

And then there was what you were experiencing. The kind that had you dragging yourself out of the house at any possible spare moment, just to not be in close quarters with them, but also to not be alone with your thoughts.

So that was why, when Chris found you, you were outside, sunbathing by the pool, while Dodger pranced through the sprinklers in the large lawn beside you.

"Have you seen this?" Your voice had become somewhat devoid of emotion the past few days. You knew that if you let yourself feel too much, you'd feel it all. And then you'd show your hand. "This is the greatest feeling in the world."

You passed your phone to Chris, who was chuckling at the flatness of the tone in which you had rejoiced. That chuckle morphed into full blown laughter when he saw the meme that you had been looking at earlier.

"Yeah, laugh it up," you mocked. "You're going to have to start paying me more now, you know. I'm famous."

"Would a higher salary buy me a date to tonight's benefit?" Chris asked, still laughing a little when he passed the phone back to you.

"What happened to Lily?"

You knew he wasn't asking you because he'd wanted you there with him. He was asking you because something must've happened to prevent time spent with his precious girlfriend. God, you sounded bitter. Jealousy really did not become you.

"She had to fly back to London last night," he said, forlorn. "Something came up. She said she'd try to make it, but I haven't heard from her yet and it's an eleven hour flight."

You hummed in response, your only indication to having heard him. Your eyes were closed behind your sunglasses, but you could hear the frown in his voice when he continued.

"The dinner is already paid for, and I have a dress waiting for you. I got it for Lily for tonight, but–"

"You know, in some countries, buying a date for the night is called solicitation. And I'm sorry, Chrisopher," you said, finally turning your head to look at him, "but I'm just not that kind of girl."

His last ditch effort to persuade you had your attention. "There will be an open bar."

"You really know how to make a girl swoon."

———————

The dress was waiting for you when you stepped out of the shower. It was laid out on your bed, a rich, deep, violet. Demure, but corseted, with a floor length skirt.

If it was bought to fit Lily... You swallowed thickly, self conscious in your own body for the first time since you'd been in high school.

You were comfortable in your body. So much so, you'd even danced burlesque in front of many an ogling stranger at Chris' dare on your birthday.

But Lily... She was not quite of this world. And once again, jealousy struck in the worst sense: you were drawing comparisons to her and yourself. Which was never healthy.

The dress fit you surprisingly well – but the moment of truth would only come once the zipper was done up. For all your trying, you simply could not reach it long enough to zip it fully by yourself.

You had become accustomed to Chris barging into your room unannounced, so the soft knock at your door had your heart leaping into your throat.

"Are you ready? The car should be arriving in..." There was some shuffling – Chris pulling his suit sleeve back to check his watch. "Ten minutes."

If your heart hadn't already been in your throat, it certainly was now. "Just a minute," you strangled out, a new sense of vigour in your motions as you struggled to reach the zipper.

"You alright in there?" Chris called through the door.

"I'm–" You huffed in exasperation, giving up.

Not waiting for an invitation, in case something was truly wrong – you had a habit of keeping those kinds of things to yourself, even if they tore you apart within – Chris cracked the door, peering in, eyes downcast and averted in case you were in a compromising position. "Can I come in?"

Swallowing your humility, you hummed your admission.

He slipped into your room, eyes still on the ground. His hands slid into his pockets – something you realised he tended to do if he was a little uncomfortable or if he was trying to find the right words to say. Being a man with such a vast vocabulary, he often found himself dumbfounded in your very presence.

"You could at least look at me."

It was intended as a joke, but your voice was cracked and soft, and it sounded so much... more than what you meant.

He slowly pulled his eyes towards your face, taking you in from the floor up. His raking stare landed on your bare back, and, without much of a prompt, he strode over to you, hand already inching towards the zipper.

He felt you tense – he was that close to you.

"May I?" He asked, so gently that you wouldn't have even heard it if the room hadn't been so suddenly still, and if he hadn't been standing so fucking close.

You couldn't speak, tongue thick in your mouth. So you just nodded.

His knuckle grazed up your spine as he zipped the dress, and if he didn't notice the gooseflesh that rose, he certainly did when once the dress was zipped, he absentmindedly smoothed his warm hands over your shoulderblades.

You shuddered under his touch, but found yourself pulling away. You had a habit of doing that, too. Not that it was unwarranted – he simply just wasn't yours to touch.

Slowly, you turned to face him, and the look on his face – followed by a near imperceptible sharp gasp – nearly made your heart explode.

The dress hugged your every curve, complimenting you perfectly. If you let your imagination escape you, you would almost imagine it had been made with the intention of you wearing it, and you alone.

"I'm surprised it fits," you said, only to break the stretch of silence that had gathered.

"Why?" He shrugged, reeling himself in. The moment was gone instantaneously. "It's tailored to you. It's yours."

———————

The gala was a private party, but that didn't stop the press from waiting outside the gates.

Camera flashes blinded you, even behind the tinted windows of the rented town car, and you felt yourself withdrawing from the windows altogether.

Unfortunately, that just brought you closer to Chris, who was seated with you in the back on the plush leather seats.

"Sorry," you mumbled, having pressed yourself into his shoulder.

There was tension in the car – you'd have to be well and truly inept to not notice. It was slowly dawning on you, how unusual this all was. He had a girlfriend, for fuck sakes. What were you doing there with him?

It was almost a relief getting out of the car, the cool night air caressing your skin as you inhaled deeply, steeling yourself. It had become immeasurably stuffy in the backseat, and you were just grateful that the discomfort brewing in the pit of your stomach dissipated with every new fresh breath of air.

The air was misted with ocean spray, and in the distance, you could hear the crashing of waves against rocks, churning sea perfectly mirroring your roiling emotions.

The grecian style manor in which the gala took place sat atop a cliffside, overlooking dark, inky sea. It was almost enough to take your breath away.

A long set of marble stairs led to the open double doors, and just from being their waitress, you knew how celebrities thrilled in making an entrance. And what an entrance it was.

Panting slightly from the climb – especially having done so in heels, and without the assistance of Chris' waiting arm – you stepped into the gilded foyer, guarded by marble Greek statues and busts. A crystal chandelier cast warm light, reflecting off the large pillars that held the roof like Atlas was said to have held the world.

Chris playfully chucked you under your chin to shut your open hanging mouth. Your teeth clattered together and he gave you a knowing smirk. "Has anyone ever told you that you're easy to impress?"

"Then you must be severely unimpressive, Evans," you hissed back before making your way past him and towards the doors leading to he ballroom. Judging by the chatter you could hear inside, this was where the event was being held. Perceiving that you were alone, you turned at the doorway to see Chris watching you leave, brow furrowed in thought.

"Chris?"

He snapped out of it, raising his brows in question. "Yeah?"

"Are you coming?"

"To my own event?" He smirked, striding over to join you. "Of course."

———————

The charity was held in honour of Children in Need and The Children's Trust, two charities Chris worked closely with.

As the host, he had a lot of rounds to make, and you found yourself standing a little off to the side, following him like a shadow, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Your line of charity work was more hands on, having helped rebuild houses and gather supplies following natural disasters. You were primarily a volunteer. But suddenly, to be surrounded by the wealthy benefactors – who you knew you'd never be able to do much without in the world – you were at a loss.

Wealth dripped from women's ears in the form of drooping diamond earrings, their very bodies clad in money, while the men sported it around their wrists and in their suits. You had never felt so plain, so simple in your stature before.

After the fifteenth handshake, you decided to let Chris do what he did best. His natural charisma and charm was already hard at work, and you tried to slip away without him noticing.

You had made it all of two steps when his hand found your wrist, gently pulling you back to him. His voice was low. "Where are you going?"

"Participate in the open bar, see if I can spot any familiar faces..." In all honesty, you were just uncomfortable, and the smile on your face was becoming increasingly fake. You needed a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts, organize them properly.

His other hand had found your waist, a thumb subconsciously running along the velvet coated boning of the corset as he searched your eyes. Conclusive that nothing was outwardly wrong, he let you go.

"Save me the last dance," he said, eyes bright under the golden light.

You smiled tightly. As you departed, you called over your shoulder: "no promises."

———————

The corset was feeling tighter by the passing second.

You were stood at the donations table, where guests could anonymously place their contributions to the charity of their choice. And the numbers people were dropping, casually, like it was nothing...

Of course, you understood that it was everything. These children needed it. But you had wanted to donate something too, and you felt disheartened by the ever climbing amount of money they placed.

It helped to have deep pockets, but yours were shallow. A contribution was a contribution, though, and every cent counted.

Tentatively, you picked up the engraved golden fountain pen that had probably just been discarded by Elon Musk, and shakily scrawled your number down.

A low whistle from behind you nearly made you leap out of your skin. Turning, you shot a burning glare to Sebastian, who had just arrived. He had spotted you, and promptly came over to hover over your shoulder.

"That's quite a sum of money," he commented.

"I'm sorry that not all of us fought a giant grape in the world's highest grossing film of all time, but I'm doing what I can," you growled back.

"Easy, tiger," he said, hands up in surrender. "That's not what I meant."

You had known what he meant, just given the admiration on his face. He was pleasantly surprised and appreciated your effort, even if it didn't even come close to the lowest bid the others had laid.

You supposed you were just irritated – irritated you couldn't do more, that you hadn't done more. That you were at this event that you clearly shouldn't be at. An event that Lily would've shone by Chris' side at.

"I'm sorry," you sighed. Sebastian wasn't deserving of your bark nor bite. You decided a joking remark would ease the tension. "These are meant to be done anonymously, you know."

"Yeah, but everyone drunkenly boasts about it eventually. Especially the older ones," he said, sliding easily past you to place his own money. You didn't look at the number – it felt like it would cheapen the act of charity.

He led you to the bar, where Mackie had struck up a conversation with Scarlett. It was nice to see them all again, familiar faces in a sea of unknowns.

Scarlett stunned in a subdued midnight blue – pantsuit snug on her form in suggestion of a good tailor – her hair falling around her shoulders, lips painted a red reminiscent of her name.

She brightened when she saw you, immediately roping you into a perfume scented hug. "Oh, thank God, save me from him."

You laughed softly into her hair. "I'm sorry, but once he's got his hooks in, there's no letting go."

"You got that right." Anthony pulled you into a hug of his own once Scarlett released you. "How're you doing, girl?"

You waved off his concern as he scanned your face. "I'm fine."

"You having a fun time third wheeling?" Scarlett sipped her cocktail, imprinting a perfect red stain on the rim. There was a sparkle in her eyes, and you just knew.

"Oh no..."

"Oh yes," Anthony chuckled.

"You've all seen it?" Your eyes rested on Sebastian when you asked, who had his elbows propped on the bar, waiting for his drink. He was the only one who hadn't admitted to it yet.

"It's all I can see every time I open any social media," he grinned, nodding to the bartender in thanks when the drink was served. "Congratulations, you're an overnight national treasure."

Anthony raised his glass in toast to you. "To {your name}."

The clink of Scarlett's glass against Anthony's really drove the slow embarrassment creeping across your cheeks. "Not the hero we needed."

"But the hero we deserved," finished Sebastian.

"You rehearsed this, didn't you?" You groaned. You reached for Sebastian's freshly poured drink. "What is that?"

"Bourbon... Why do you–? Hey!"

You had promptly taken the glass from him at the mention of hard liquor and threw it back, embracing the burn the alcohol consumed your throat in.

"That's the spirit," Anthony winked.

Seb was pouting, mournfully staring at the crystal tumbler you had returned to his reaching hand. "I just got that..."

While Sebastian ordered another – and a drink for you specifically, so as to prevent further robbery – Scarlett leaned closer to you. "Where are the first and second wheels anyway? I haven't seen the first, and have yet to meet the second."

"The first is over there," you pointed him out once you'd spotted him in the crowd. "And the second, well... She's–"

And in your surprise, you abruptly cut yourself short. Because gliding through the doors was a woman looking every bit as beautiful as how one would perceive a real life Disney princess, clad in sweeping pale pink chiffon that shimmered with every movement, hair coiled in perfect ringlets and held in place with jeweled flower hairpins. She was breathtaking.

"Well, she just walked in."

———————

You stood in the back garden, the scent of roses mixing with salt spray. Overlooking the sea, you were perched at the edge of the cliff, watching the water smash against the unmoving rocks.

You had endured as much as you possibly could. You watched them dance together, sweeping across the marble floors in perfect harmony. The first time, you'd admit it was beautiful. The second, you were clutching your drink a little tighter. The third dance had you finding solace on the balcony halfway through, picking idly at the rose petals that climbed up the trellis in thorny vines.

It was the speech that made you reach your tipping point.

Guilt swamped you – this was Chris' big moment, and you were guilty that you weren't there to celebrate it with him. As a friend does. As a friend should.

But it was so difficult, seeing him up there, with her by his side. She held herself perfectly, back straight, chin tilted, poised – regal.

Your suspicions were confirmed: Lily was perfectly suited to this world. To this life. She fit in.

And she was funny – interjecting lighthearted commentary into Chris' speech with witty remarks that didn't interrupt him nor detract from the sincerity of his words in the slightest, but sent light bubbling laughter scattering across the crowd, warming them to her presence. And after every comment like that, he would look at her with the softest of smiles, adoration etched on his face. And there were a lot of comments.

They were so perfectly charming together. You had to leave.

Your departure wasn't noticed, and your presence wasn't missed.

You had stopped a passing waiter for a glass of champagne, and made your way back to the balcony. It was there that you noticed the cliff edge, moonlight glinting off the ink spill sea.

Making your way down marble steps, the clicking of your heels signifying your descent, you found solace in the silence the grass granted your footsteps.

The hem of your long skirts dragged across the dew ridden grass, and for a moment, you could imagine that you, yourself, were a princess.

A princess without a prince.

You had no intention of doing anything rash. You just wanted to watch the waves.

And so you did, the repetitive crush of water against stone lulling you into a hypnotic state. It was calming – seeing something so constant in these turbulent times.

But as you so feared, time alone meant time to think. And the past week crashed on you, simultaneous with the dreadful depths below.

All the emotions that had been lurking, had been building up – all the emotions that you hadn't allowed yourself to feel; resentment, pain, jealousy, and above it all, heartaching love – began to bubble up in your throat, and from inside you could hear the beginning scatter of applause, and as it crescendoed into a thunder you let loose a gutwrenching scream.

You would have no indication of how far it would travel, that mournful wail of yours.

But you screamed, and screamed, your voice hoarse.

You screamed until you felt tears in your eyes.

You heard, faintly, a glass shatter, and you felt a sharp sting that almost immediately numbed itself, and still you screamed, until your throat was raw, and you could taste blood on your tongue.

Exhausted, you dropped to your knees. And still, inside, the applause continued, unconcerned with your traumas.

Breathing heavily, you came back to yourself. And when you did, pain flooded you.

Not emotional, no, that had already been carried away on the night air – leaving you numb in your bones.

But a searing, stinging pain in your hand.

In the darkness of the night, the blood looked black, rivalling the black sea. You had broken the glass in your hand with the fury of your cry, and when you turned to inspect it, little shards of glass were still seen to be peering through before being consumed by the champagne mixed gore.

"FUCK!" The word was drawn out in a wrenching croaked sob, and you held your hand before you, ripped out of your complacency with sheer agony.

You don't know how long you sat there, just staring at your hand, watching the blood trickle. All you knew was that you were shivering by the time Scarlett found you, crimson staining your dress – turning the violet to black. The smell of metal was heavy on the air, mingled with champagne and sea.

"{Your name?}" Scarlett called to you. Her muted steps were signalled by the rustling of grass as she drew closer. "{Your name}, are you..."

And then she saw your face. And then your hand. And she was sprinting to you, panic in her eyes, careless of her heels.

"Jesus fucking Christ, {your name}, are you okay? Holy shit, fuck, hold on, let's just get you–ANTHONY!"

She had landed on her knees beside you, cradling your hand as a slew of profanities left her lips before ultimately calling for assistance.

Anthony came running. "What? What is it?!" A sharp intake of breath. "What the fuck happened?"

You barely registered Anthony's suit jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. The shock had rendered you catatonic. "It was an accident," you said dumbly.

"Help me get her up, we need to get her some medical attention."

Scarlett did as instructed, their otherwise warm hands perceiving to your icy skin as scorching. When you stood, you noticed your knees were soaked through from dew, mud clinging to the now ruined dress. You felt sorrow, but that was quickly consumed by vacancy. You weren't sure what you preferred – feeling everything or nothing at all.

Anthony had his arm around your shoulder, Scarlett holding you up by the elbow of the arm that was uninjured as they guided you back inside, careful with their steps. It was a snail's pace, your legs barely working and them having to compensate for it.

"What happened?" The question on everyone's minds left Sebastian's lips.

"We don't know, we just found her like this," Anthony said. So often quick with a joke and smile, Anthony was grave in his delivery now. "Take her to a hospital, get her hand fixed up, get her home."

Sebastian nodded, sliding Anthony's blazer off of you to return it to its owner before replacing it with his own. He took you under his arm in a protective embrace. You were keeping to the edges of the party, not wanting to draw any attention. You kept your head ducked, just watching more and more blood pool in your cupped hand, watching, waiting for it to overflow, fascinated by it.

The commotion that began at your slow departure drew you out of your reverie.

Chris – having seen his friends clustered together, air clouding them tense – was stalking to where you all stood.

"What happened?" You heard again, and unfortunately not for the last time. The doctor would ask the same question a little later. "Fuck, {your name}. Let me take you home."

The way your shoulders stiffened was not lost on Anthony.

"I think you've done enough," he said coolly, holding up a hand to halt Chris' advances. "Sebastian is going to take her home, come talk to me when you've figured things out."

Chris was dumbstruck by the sudden change in demeanor. "Anthony–"

"No!" He snapped. "Tonight isn't about you. The Chris I know would've respected that."

"Not here," a strong voice interjected. You all turned to see Lily approaching the small circle that had formed around the unravelling drama. Guilt was thick in your throat. Tonight was in celebration of a fundraiser for children, and you'd single handedly ruined it. "Not tonight. Not here, not now."

She strode over to you, separating Anthony and Chris in the process. They still stared each other down.

She took a hold of your hand, surprisingly tender in direct opposition to the subdued fury in her voice. Concern overtook her as she addressed Sebastian. "You get her to a doctor, and you make sure she gets home safe."

And with one scathing gaze to the guests, the crowd dissipated.

"Lily–" Chris started, but was cut off when that same scathing look was turned on him.

"I don't know what's happening here, but fix it. Anthony is one of your best friends. So is {your name}. Remember that."

At her departure, Anthony summoned Chris outside onto the balcony to continue the conversation privately.

"I know how much she means to you, Chris. And I know I make my jokes, have my fun. You know what I think, I've never once tried to hide it. But you need to let her go. You can't have both."

And then Chris Evans – forever stoic – crumbled. His body wracked with sobs and tears fell freely down his face. Anthony pulled Chris to him, allowing his friend to cry into his shoulder. It was a hard thing to watch – a strong man falling apart.

"It just hurts so much," he garbled out, muffled by Anthony's dress shirt.

"I know it does."

A moment passed as Chris dissolved. Then, resolutely, he straightened.

"You're right," Chris breathed in deeply, gathering himself. "It's not about me."

He withdrew from Anthony, wiping the tears away quickly with his palm. And like a storm, the calm that settled was instantaneous. You would've never even known he had broken if not for the red rimming his eyes.

"Here's some great advice from a great man I once knew: you might have one thing in your head, but the things you're doing don't lead you down that road, necessarily. When you're young, you don't want to hear that. You think you can do everything, be all things."

It was cryptic, but the meaning was clear. Chris would have to choose. He couldn't be with Lily and keep you around. Not because he knew how you felt – he certainly didn't – but because of the way he did. You'd been an expert at masking your emotions, so much so that you'd shattered like that champagne flute, so desperately wanting him to be happy in spite of his choice.

"Who said that?" Chris asked, smiling mournfully. He already knew. "Shakespeare?"

"No. A much greater man. I like to keep him close when I can."

———————

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Sebastian finally said. The drive to the hospital was done in sombre silence, and, when you'd returned to his side in the waiting room, he had merely taken you under his arm again to guide you to the car. "But just know that I'm here to talk. If you want to."

"It was an accident," you said simply. And it was. Of that, you were certain. You had just gotten carried away with your release, and unfortunately, the glass was a casualty.

You watched as the lights flew past the window against which your head leaned. Sebastian didn't speak again until you were pulling up the long driveway of Chris' house. Forever Chris' house, never quite yours.

"Okay."

And that was the end of the conversation.

When you entered, Dodger immediately sensed the mood. He pushed his head into your hand, whining softly. His large, brown eyes even asked it. "What happened?"

"Hey, Dodge," you croaked. You wouldn't be surprised if your voice was gone by morning.

Sebastian helped you remove your dress, and turned his back to you while you dressed. You harshly tugged the makeup from your face single handedly with a wipe, your other hand secured in a bandage.

It wasn't until Sebastian had tucked you into bed that you asked him to stay.

You sounded so small, so childlike just then. He stared at you for the longest time, hovering between rejection and acceptance. There must've been something in your expression, a small plea reaching out for him, and he softened, a tender smile on his face.

He was reluctant, you knew that. But you selfishly didn't want to be alone, and he was there.

He kicked his shoes off, removing his tie before sliding into bed beside you.

"Tell me a story."

"I don't know many stories. I know some in Romanian from my childhood, but–"

"Tell me those."

So he did. You didn't understand a single word, but that was fine. You drifted off to sleep, Sebastian's melodic tale guiding you to rest.

And when Chris returned home later that night, he came to check on you – only to find you sleeping peacefully beside another man.

He knew then that he didn't need to make a choice; you'd already made it for him.

#dina writes #chris evans/you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #ocean eyes #anthony mackie #sebastian stan #scarlett johansson

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thekidultlife · 4 years ago

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I Want Your Midnights | Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Idol AU (?)

⍟ Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst on the side

⍟ Warnings: -

⍟ Word Count: 4.3k

⍟ A/N: Alright I know you guys are already sick of me just posting Jihoon fics, but it’s my birthday today, so just...humor me pls. This is almost a self-indulgent fic;;; I’ll be tagging @nrhfzh and all those jihoon stans who sent anons last time!!

(this should be posted on Friday which is Leanne’s schedule, but we decided she won’t post anything this week and I won’t post next Moday;;;)

btw, the song featured here is New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift. I recommend you listen to that song while reading this skkssk

-Hyeri

It was like an ordinary night. Like any night that you have spent before and will spend more in the future. Nothing extraordinary could be noted in particular between you and Lee Jihoon as you both sat eating in the quiet and privacy of his studio, between out of place candles and almost empty chicken buckets. It was as normal as a night can be.

Yet at the same time, in your own little way, it was also special.

Not being overly expressive with your love for each other, subtle gestures and acts of love screamed more than a thousand words could ever do. It never felt lacking or boring or empty like people thought it would be. In fact, your relationship was an adventure, even barely starting, it had been an uphill battle, and you both knew that.

As you came back from the comfort room washing your hands, you made a small scheming grin at your boyfriend who was still gobbling up the last remains of his chicken wing. Taking notice of that, he glanced at you with a smirk of his own.

"I know that look. What are you planning?" He asked as you sat across him, your arms folded confidently.

"Are you done eating?" You replied, watching him with a childish cheekiness in you.

"Well yeah," he dusted off the crumbs on his shirt with an innocent look. "What are you thinking though?"

With a coquettish smile, you stood up from your seat and went to his side. "Nothing really. Though I do want you to close your eyes and trust me."

Jihoon glanced at you with a bewildered look at first, wondering what you were scheming again this time, but when he saw that mischievous glint in your eyes, he knew it was something he shouldn't really worry about and simply chuckled at you.

"Fine, but don't do any funny business!" He finally agreed as he closed his eyes and waited for you.

He could hear you walking away and some wheels rolling. "I've never done any funny business." You denied teasingly.

He scoffed, even with his eyes closed. "Yeah right. Except that time when you drew on my face when I was drunk!"

He knew you were making an incredulous expression right now.

"C'mon! I was just trying to see what you would look like with a mustache," you laughed, walking towards him and reaching for his hands. "Don't open your eyes yet. I promise I won't draw a third eye on your forehead this time."

"Please don't. And please stop sharing meme faces of me to the other members. My reputation as vocal boss is on the line," he retorted back with a toothy grin as you chuckled, guiding him somewhere in the room.

"Can't promise that, Ji. I like my status as the official Lee Jihoon meme distributor," you replied, making him laugh out loud at how ridiculous that title was, before the both of you stopped walking. "You can sit now. I promise there's a chair to catch your butt."

For a while he feared that there really wasn't any chair for him to sit on, yet when he felt the soft foam of his swivel chair, he relaxed for a bit and sat down. Turning the chair around before you backed away, you allowed him to finally open his eyes. As soon as his sight came back, he was greeted by the image of you sitting in front of the electric keyboard with a soft smile on your lips.

"I can't promise you my voice or my playing would be up to your standards, but just…it's the thought that counts right?" You suddenly rambled, giggling.

Blinking, Jihoon was still processing what you were planning until it dawned on him the next second. "Are….are you going to sing me a song?"

You smiled at him bashfully. "Yeah, though I wish it was a song that I made myself, but I guess I'll put my feelings into somebody else's words for now. So you better listen."

Gazing into your eyes, he could sense the sincerity deep in you. You were someone who wouldn't make an effort just for the sake of being romantic. Everything you do for him meant something and was done with great consideration, he understood that, that's why right now, he could feel his heart swell with emotion.

A gentle smile on his lips, Jihoon leaned back. "I'll listen. Don't worry, I won't judge."

“You promised that, okay?” With a sheepish grin, you turned your attention back to the piano and placed your fingers on the correct chords.

With a small nervous breath, you began playing.

"There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby…"

Soft chords accentuate your raw and amateur voice. It didn't need to be technically perfect, the genuine emotions which surfaced on your voice reflected beauty in Jihoon's ears. It didn't need to be perfect, but it was real. He always loved that about you. Your brutal honesty, the unapologetic optimism you had. It gives him strength to look forward to another day.

He remembered as he watched your fingers dance on the keys, the first time you met. It wasn't that special. He just saw you on the internet as he monitored his own social media presence, posting stuff about Seventeen and what not. He found your comments funny, your reactions interesting, that he found himself going through your posts every day. He knew he'd love to be your friend if he could.

Yet being an idol wasn't easy. You were so close yet so far away. It wasn’t as easy as typing the words ‘hey i wanna be your friend’ to just another person. His name held weight and Jihoon knew that. With his workload and all the responsibilities he had in his hands, he just couldn’t tell you what he felt. As he listened to your voice reverberating with the acoustics of his studio, he remembered how it took him years to finally stir up the courage and to finally see the opportunity to talk to you.

He was glad he did. If he hadn’t, his heart wouldn’t feel as full as it has been since he met you.

“If you’re really Woozi of Seventeen, then post a picture of yourself in Weverse and in the captions write what’s the last anime you’ve watched.” Jihoon remembered you telling him over chat, it was nerve-wracking back then but it felt silly now. Of course, you can’t just trust a random person claiming himself to be an idol. There were a lot of those these days.

“Let’s be friends first,” you wrote to him with a heart and a smiley face emoji back then. “I want to get to know you.”

“Don't read the last page, but I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away…”

Jihoon gazed at you, even then and until now, you were still beautiful in his eyes. No matter how many songs he’d composed about you, the emotions that reside in his chest would never run dry. The way you laugh, the way you talk, the way you’d do just about anything—he only had you in his eyes. Yet things weren’t always roses and butterflies.

You were so frustrated at him at that time when he had gotten scared of his own emotions. Jihoon knew, deep inside, that he had grown to love you over chats on SNS; your witty sarcasm and wonderful conversations were like water and sunlight to the love growing, rooting deeper and deeper into his heart.

He wasn’t unfamiliar to this feeling, yet he had been betrayed by this same emotion in the past and he wished he’d never had to be again this time. He was frightened that you could easily leave him, broken and empty, like the others did. Admittingly, he had lost hope for a love that was unconditional. He didn’t believe that there would be anyone out there who could love him wholeheartedly as much as he did, even through his flaws and his mistakes.

But you suddenly popped into his life, unaware of how much power you hold over him.

“You annoy me so much!” you told him over one fateful video call. “Jihoon, I feel so confused, you know? What am I really to you? Do you want to be just friends or do you want something more? If you want to stay as friends, then fine! I won’t force you. But that doesn’t mean I’d wait for you forever when you’re ready to take this to another step.”

He didn’t enjoy fighting with you. Not at all. Yet he was scared and stuck and didn’t know what to do. Being more meant more risks of hurting you unintentionally.

“But I can’t decide, Y/N! Dating means people will talk, and I don’t want them to talk about you! But I can’t just make everything I feel about you disappear!” he replied, and you were taken aback. “But if letting you go is the price I have to pay for your peace, then I don’t mind hurting.”

Tears were already threatening to slide down your cheeks, and if only you knew how much it pained him to see you like that back then. To hear you trip on your words, to hold back small sobs as you tried to find coherent words to keep the conversation going, it felt like a thousand knives piercing through him.

“Stop that…please. Do you think I won’t feel anything when you say that?” you replied. “Jihoon, I can understand where you’re coming from but don’t ever think that you’re the only one carrying this relationship, or whatever this is. For this to work, you have to share your burdens with me, you have to trust me, to depend on me.”

“I know that all your life, you’re used to doing everything by yourself, and I’m no different. We’ve achieved so many things just by ourselves. But we can’t be like this forever. A relationship isn’t just you or just me. It’s us both. So lean on me, let me carry those heavy feelings and I’d do the same with you. I want this to work, Jihoon. I don’t want to give up.”

Even if it was only through some shitty PC screen that he could see you, it didn’t diminish the weight of those words. He could feel it back then, he could still feel it right now as you played on the piano, singing a simple song—you were the one he wanted, tomorrow and forevermore.

“You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's going to be a long road…”

Jihoon would forever be thankful for you. Everything that you did for him, even if unintentionally on your part. He couldn’t admit how much he appreciates you in his life—through early morning calls when you were still far apart, and now through your warm presence in his studio as he worked.

“I’m considering moving there in the next year or so,” you suddenly told him over a phone call as you did your work. “Now that I’m breaking through the Korean webcomic scene, I think it’s better to stay close to my audience. And I think it’s better that we can finally be together, geographically at least.”

He could still remember it as fresh as that day. His heart began beating so fast, a wide grin broke out on his lips. He was worried that it’ll be too much for you to handle, but he had learned as your relationship progressed, that you’re someone who doesn’t get pushed back by hurdles so easily. Besides, you had him.

Jihoon was glad that he can now keep you closer more than ever.

It wasn’t easy, like everything else in life. But there was nothing the both of you couldn’t handle. It took so much silence and deception to hide your relationship from the public—a decision the both of you agreed upon long before. Jihoon knew that the both of you were private people, and more than anything, you didn’t want anyone to become privy to your intimate relationships.

For the first time, in such a long time, Jihoon was able to hold you close. Gazing at you, at your real eyes, at that time, felt surreal. Jihoon always thought he knew almost everything about you, yet he had never anticipated that there were still a lot of things about you which he hadn’t discovered yet.

He never had thought how warm your touch was, how bright your grin was when you were scheming some prank, how loud your voice got when you were so passionate about something, how soft your lips were when you finally kissed for the first time. No matter how much technology brought you two together, nothing compared to actual, real life affection shared between lovers.

“I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home...”

Jihoon remembers, as you sang, how you silently embraced him on nights when he felt the world was too heavy on his shoulders. You wouldn’t say anything to him until he would open up; patiently waiting as you tapped an irregular beat on his back. As easily as that, you’d erase all the stress that he had accumulated over time.

You didn’t need to say anything grand or moving, or make all of his problems disappear. Your simple gestures were already enough. You were already enough for him.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/N,” he whispered to you one night as he buried his face on your shoulder. “You’re everything that I want, but I’m not sure if I’m giving you everything that you want.”

You giggled, sighing as you brushed your fingers through his newly dyed hair.

“You don’t have to worry, Jihoon. You’ve given me so much that you never even realized it.”

He pouted, not liking how vague you were. “Like what?”

“Aren’t you just conveniently forgetting how many songs you’ve written for me?” you replied, a smirk on your lips as you twirled a lock of his around your finger.

“But…those are just songs! It’s not as special as the things you’ve done for me…”

“Don’t underestimate them, Ji,” you told him as you pulled back, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I know how important music is to you, how it’s an extension of your feelings, and to be a part of it is something I’d consider meaningful.”

For a moment, Jihoon gazed at you; his eyes holding so much emotion. There it was that he knew—he was truly, deeply, madly in love with you.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Feeling a strong urge, he leaned into you, capturing your lips into a deep and passionate kiss. Everything, everything that he felt for you at that time, he poured into that kiss, making you gasp for air. You cling to him for support, wholly surprised at his sudden intensity, yet not unwelcome at all.

As the both of you pulled away, Jihoon once again returned to your arms, allowing himself to be vulnerable before you.

“I truly don’t deserve you,” he whispered on your shoulder..

“After that incredible kiss?” you teased, “Statement denied.”

Jihoon groaned and you chuckled.

“I know you’re overthinking again, so I’ll say it clearly. You’re more than I ever wanted, Lee Jihoon.”

You paused, patting his head, tightening your arms around him.

“Whenever you call just to check up on me despite your busy schedule, whenever you share funny stories about the members, whenever you act cute and pouty when I ask you to do aegyo for me…what else…?”

He grunted disapprovingly at your comment and you giggled. “I don’t act cute.”

“You do, you know? You’re naturally and inherently cute,” you replied. “You’re cute when you make ramyeon for me even when I just eat the noodles, you’re cute when you offer to hold my bag or open the door for me, or when you insist on paying for dinner, and you’re so cute when you hold me close whenever I feel down and insecure about myself and my work.”

Jihoon was silent, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you didn’t really catch on those little things he did, but he had underestimated your memory and your powers of observation.

“There’s a lot more I can say, you know? I should make a list for you and maybe stick it on your desk whenever you begin to question yourself again.”

He snorted. “No, thank you. The members would see it and I don’t want them to.”

“I’ll do it when you annoy me,” you joked, despite your words. “Now, I hope I’ve reassured your worries for tonight.”

Snuggling against your shoulder, Jihoon smiled. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…”

As your words fell like chants into his ears, Jihoon was mesmerized by the image of you singing, his eyes wandering. A bitter memory relapsed into his mind, and a reminder that not everything was golden in your paradise.

It was a cold January night, snow had finally ceased falling at one in the morning. The both of you were inside his studio just like normal; a habit the two of you took comfort in. He was holding your hand tight, keeping it warm with his hands in his pocket, as you scrolled on your phone.

For a while, it felt normal. The sounds of the clock ticking, the gentle thrumming of your heartbeat, the soft breaths you both shared. Yet, just like that, everything gradually became colder. It wasn’t the actual temperature, but your mood as he watched your expression turn from amused to a deadpan frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, kissing your temple. For some reason, he had developed a rather intuitive connection with you over time, where he can easily sense your change of moods despite your lack of expression.

You sighed as you looked up, leaning against him. He wondered if you were pondering on telling him the truth, or just keep your thoughts hidden. Before he could actually express to you his own thoughts, you sighed and nestled yourself on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Jihoon, is this all a mistake?” you asked, your voice small.

He blinked, furrowing his brow at the complex question. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read a few things online.”

It was a simple thing to say, yet Jihoon immediately knew what you were talking about. With a sigh, he adjusted his position where he could wrap his arms around you tightly.

“People always talk, Y/N. We can’t do anything about it but continue living our own lives and ignore them.”

“But what if they reveal our relationship as a scandal and you’re forced to leave Seventeen? They could do that so easily, you know!” You asked with a weak voice, clinging to him tightly. “I don’t want that to happen. I’ll never let that happen, Jihoon!”

“Then we’ll announce before they do,” he easily replied, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Have you forgotten how strong the relationship between Carats and Seventeen is? Of course, some will react negatively, but I know that they would be accepting.”

Once more, Jihoon heard you sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just being selfish by being with you. A lot of people look up to you, Ji, and they all want a piece of your world. I don’t want to be possessive of you but sometimes I just question myself, like what if this is wrong? What if this was a mistake?”

Gazing into your eyes, Jihoon felt all of your concerns. It was already given that dating an idol would be hard, and moments of weakness like these could make your anxieties grow into deeper, darker shadows.

“It’s gonna be weird for me to say this but it’s ok to be selfish,” he told you, his words firm and certain. “Oh god, how do I say this…but look, Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with me. We’re a couple, and that’s normal. There’s nothing wrong with being a couple.”

“But you’re an idol! If they knew, people would say a lot of bad things about you, and I don’t want that!”

“No matter how many times they say I’m an idol, I’m a human being, first and foremost, and just like everybody else, I have my own personal life which doesn’t revolve around my job. People will always say a lot of bad things about me no matter what I do, but what’s important to me is that I have you by my side, I have everyone by my side. So don’t ever think that this is wrong. You and I are never wrong. Who are they to judge what is wrong or right for me when they don’t know who I am?”

Jihoon realized that after his speech, you turned silent, and instead buried yourself deeper against his chest.

“You’re important to me, Y/N. What other people say doesn’t matter to me anymore. As long as you’re here with me, I’m able to do anything.”

In a quiet voice, Jihoon caught your words. “Thank you for this, Ji…”

“But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we’re making mistakes…”

There was always a strange quality to time whenever he was with you. Sometimes time would slow down, sometimes it would pass by in just a blink of an eye. As he began to reminisce instead of actually listening, he realized just how much time had passed between the both of you.

“I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day…”

On that certain night, when the both of you were wrapped between sheets, when the bright lights of Seoul reflected on the stark white ceiling, when you were tangled in each others arms, listening to your own fast paced heartbeats after a long night, he remembers you pulling him close, brushing stray locks from his face.

“Jihoon...” you whispered under your breath, your fingers tracing circles on his cheekbones then down his jaw and to his lips. “You’re very handsome, did you know that?”

He smirked at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “What? You still haven’t gotten enough?”

In an instant your face heated up as you hit his toned chest playfully, making Jihoon laugh. “Ehh...! Don’t mention that now!”

As his devious eyes turned soft, he smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What is it then?”

You sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “I just thought that someday, I know, things wouldn’t be this way anymore.The spark wouldn’t be as strong as before, the butterflies will eventually disappear. Things would become mundane between us...”

There was a melancholic tone in your words; a detail which hadn’t escape his attention. Yet Jihoon knew that what you were talking about was reality. As the both of you would eventually be consumed by work, by responsibilities, by day to day obligations, it wasn’t a far off thought that the way you felt for each other would turn dim. He knew that, and he feared it.

“But, you know...” you continued, breaking him away from his own thoughts. “Even if that happens, I’m not scared. Even if love do fail us someday, I’m confident that we would still be together, that we can still fix it. Rather than lovers who’re friends, we’re friends who became lovers. Even if you and I will eventually drift off, we still have a strong friendship. And we can rebuild everything from there.”

Jihoon oftentimes wondered how you’re able to get these epiphanies. Your mind was deep and thoughtful, and that was one of the things he loved about you. Conversations with you were never dull as you bounced off ideas at one another. You would always say well-said ideas, often describing how he feels better than he ever will.

“I want to share exciting things with you, Jihoon. I want to be helplessly all over you. I want to feel aroused, flustered, or dying of laughter. But when things get boring or nothing is really happening, or when we have to face bills, chores, or responsibilities, I’ll stay with you.”

A hundredfold, you were better at making him feel loved. He admits that.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder what I’ve done in my past life for you to choose me,” he replied, a wide grin plastered on his face. “You’re everything that I could ever ask for, Y/N. Even if you don’t have to, you still take care of me so much. I swear I’ll make you happy even if I have to walk through fire or sleep on nails.”

“I don’t think that’ll make me very happy,” you replied, grinning. “But...wanna know what else that could make me happy?”

Jihoon arched an elegant brow at you, his lips curving into a smirk. Ah yes, he definitely knows. “I was absolutely right when I said you still haven’t had enough.”

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Thinking of how much time has passed, how much the two of you had been through, almost left him in tears. The memories the both of you shared over the years was incredible that it was hard to let them go.

As he watched you finally sing the last few seconds of the song, Jihoon was sure that this moment would become another beautiful memory he would reminisce about one day in the future. It filled his heart, thinking about a pleasant future with you. A long time ago he had sang a song—doubting what kind of future was in store for him, yet now he already knows that it was something bigger, more beautiful that he had ever expected.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

As the final chord resounded across the room, both your eyes met in soft glances. You smiled at him, the sweetest, most loving smile you could ever muster, and then finally sang:

“...And I will hold on to you.”

Allowing the note to dissipate and disappear, you then turned to Jihoon with a bashful smile on your lips. “Well? Did you like your surprise?”

Already a blushing mess, Jihoon simply burst out giggling as you looked at him in confusion.

“Ya! Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed as you sulked, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt.

Still chuckling, he stood up, pulling you towards his arms as he captured you in a tight embrace. He felt at peace with you more than anywhere.

As it was apparent to you that he was in a rather good mood, you made a bemused smile as you wrapped your arms around him, also laughing on your own.

“What’s gotten into you now?” You asked as he pulled away, now able to gaze into your eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought you’re absolutely cute,” he replied as he cupped your cheeks, squishing them much to your chagrin.

“Seriously, Jihoon! Why’re you so happy?”

“Am I not allowed to be happy now?” he replied, his eyes turning into crescents.

You raised your brows at him with a grin. “You like my song, didn’t you?”

“And what if I did? It was a really nice song, you know.”

This time, it was your turn to burst out into giggles. It was hilarious how Jihoon was being so roundabout with admitting that he liked it; it was incredibly adorable.

“You’re so cute, Hoonie~”

It was no secret that he doesn’t appreciate being cooed at, as he made a small frown upon hearing your nickname for him.

“Now I don’t think I’m so happy anymore.”

“Oh c’mon!” You hit his chest lightly with a chuckle. “Tell me what you really think about it!”

His eyes filled to the brim with endearment for you, Jihoon stared into your eyes, trying to communicate how much he was so thankful that you entered his life.

“I like it. I love it, Y/N,” he replied, caressing your cheek. “It made me remember everything we’ve been through, and how much we’ve grown together.”

“And we’ll continue to the next year and in the future. Thank you for giving me your midnights, Jihoon.”

“My midnights would always be yours, as you will always be my mornings,” he gave you another embrace, embedding the feel of your skin against his, the way your hair brushes through his hands, the sound of your voice and the your scent—he will burn them all into his head so he won’t ever forget how much he loves you.

There were so many words that he could say so he could just express how he was thankful that you became a part of his life, yet none of them seemed fitting to say at that moment. Instead, as Jihoon finally decided upon, that it was best to leave them for future songs and say the words that he really wanted to say for such a long time now.

“I love you.”

-Hyeri

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon

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somekindoftuber · 6 years ago

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vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He��s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

Continued in part 6!

#youtuber au #text #klance

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thefandomlesbian · 5 years ago

Text

Graveyard Shift

For a prompt from @unika542.

Summary: Realizing Misty is battling insomnia, Cordelia sets her text tone to the loudest one so she will awaken whenever Misty needs her.

Read here on AO3!

Cordelia burned the midnight oil in her room, leaning over her bed. She had spread out ancient tomes as she planned class plans for the following weeks. The work of the Supreme was never finished, but she had to try to get her act together for the number of students she was now responsible for. Her council, not much more than students themselves, helped as they could, but there were only so many of them in a large school, and they all had their own haunts to deal with. Some more than others, Cordelia realized, sucking on her lower lip. Misty’s eyes hadn’t been the same since Cordelia had retrieved her from hell. They were emptier, less light, now.

Cell phone buzzing, Cordelia glanced at the screen. Yikes. Three in the morning. But Misty’s name on the notification caught her eye. She opened it. “You up?” Misty had asked her.

Pursing her lips, Cordelia reclined in her bed. The pillows were so luxurious where she struck her head, and with their touch, she realized for the first time how exhausted she was. “Yeah,” she texted back. “You okay?”

The gray bubble of Misty’s reply appeared and disappeared and appeared and disappeared again. Cordelia waited. Then, finally, Misty texted her, “No.” Cordelia frowned and reached for her reading glasses, sensing this conversation was going to be long enough that squinting would give her a headache.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t sleep. Nightmares.”

Cordelia didn’t know why she was surprised. Misty had endured a great ordeal—several, actually. She couldn’t expect to walk away from everything unscathed. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

A gif appeared of a cat shaking its head. “I don’t want to think about it.” She sent Cordelia another gif of a fat baby laughing. “Are you going to bed? I don’t want to keep you up.”

A smile graced Cordelia’s face at the sight of the chubby baby kicking its legs in its crib. She rolled onto her side, holding her phone out. “No, I’m gonna be up for awhile yet.” It was true; she was going to be up as long as Misty needed her. “Pick your poison: fat babies, sad puppies, evil kittens.”

Misty sent a crying-laughing emoji. “Hit me with your best shot.”

Cordelia did so. She fired off photo after photo of chubby babies, sad-faced puppies with all of their hanging folds, and kittens laughing with unsheathed claws at explosions in the background. A few of them, Misty sent back to her with captions added to make them into memes. Each one made Cordelia laugh; Misty had a brilliant sense of humor. “You’re funny,” Cordelia sent back to her, and she found a gif of a guy doubling over laughing and slapping his knee.

A heart appeared. “Thank you, Miss Cordelia. I appreciate it.”

“Are you okay now?”

“I will be. I’ll let you sleep.”

“I’m here if you need me, ever.” Another heart emoji answered her, and Cordelia closed the conversation. She was tired… but she didn’t trust that Misty was okay, like she said she would be. She opened her settings and changed Misty’s text tone to a stupid foghorn noise. Madison liked to sneak behind her back at times and change all of her text tones to the foghorn noise. It always caught her off-guard, and she hoped it would work to get her attention if Misty needed her again. She blinked at Misty's picture on the text conversation. She was beautiful. I hope I can help her.

…

About a week passed before Cordelia’s phone made the foghorn noise. This time, it did wake her up from a dead sleep. She rolled over, fumbling around for her phone on the charger. Holding her phone away from her face, she squinted at the screen. Misty’s name topped the notification. “Are you awake?”

Cordelia flicked on the bedside lamp and sat up, putting on her reading glasses. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“I’m lonely.”

Cordelia’s heart chipped off at the sight of those two little words. Misty was asking her for help… She needed a friend. I’m here for her. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Can we just talk for awhile?”

“Sure.” Cordelia scrolled through her camera roll, looking for a silly picture to send Misty. It took her a moment to land on a picture of a puppy hugging a kitten, but once she did, she tapped it and forwarded it into their conversation.

Misty didn’t give her the answer she was looking for. “Aw.”

Two letters? Cordelia thought. I have to be able to do better than that. If puppies, kittens, and other infants of all species wouldn’t cheer Misty up, she had to up her game. That meant asking Misty. “What’s bothering you?” She tacked a heart emoji onto the end, hoping to entice Misty to answer her honestly.

It worked. “I smell smoke whenever I wak up. I can’ scape it. It follow me from my dream.” Her hands were shaking, Cordelia noticed, the way her words didn’t fit together exactly right. She’s not okay. But then, the little gray typing bubble appeared again, and Misty sent a fuzzy picture of the night sky. “Moon is beutiful tonite. Stars brite.” The camera wouldn’t focus on the sky, making nothing but little streaks of light on a black background, like Cordelia’s astigmatism.

Whatever was wrong with Misty, Cordelia didn’t think she could fix it via text. Those anxious, shaky hands would come between them. She needed to use her speaking words, not her thumbs. “Where are you?”

“Roof.”

Frowning, Cordelia donned her robe and slipped her phone into its pocket, and then she tiptoed out of her bedroom. The ladder to Spalding’s attic was down. Cordelia climbed up it, careful not to get any splinters in her hands, and emerged in his bedroom, filled with weird antique dolls and a horrible stench like rotting bodies. “Ugh.” We’ve gotta clean this room out. She didn’t know what had happened to Spalding, but clearly he was gone for good, and if they allowed that odor to go unchecked, they would be lucky if they didn’t get the building condemned.

The window stood wide open, the silver moonlight flowing into the room. On the flattest part of the roof, Misty rested, stared down at her phone and a lit joint in her other hand. Smoke curled from its tip and formed rings from her open mouth. Her hands shuddered with anxiety. Her hair was tousled, as if from tossing and turning for hours. She wore only a sheer nightgown, and her flesh formed goosebumps all over her limbs. The wind carried the smell of pot away from her.

Cordelia crawled onto the roof, using her feet to brace herself against the shingles. “Hey.” Misty jumped in surprise, blinking back at her, and she started looking for a place to hide her lit joint. “Hey—It’s okay. You don’t have to hide anything from me.” She sat beside Misty. Her fingers still trembled. Cordelia took Misty by the hand and flattened out her fingers. “Talk to me.”

“Just needed to calm my nerves,” Misty mumbled. She offered the joint to Cordelia. “Want some?”

Had it been anyone else, Cordelia would’ve refused, but it was Misty, and Cordelia wanted to make sure she felt welcomed and acknowledged and understood, so she accepted the joint and took a long, deep hit on it. Her lungs crackled and burned. She battled with herself to keep from coughing so she could hold in the deep breath as she passed the lit joint back to Misty. Her brain clouded up, all fuzzy and soft. She coughed, unable to shake the piercing pain in her chest. “Jesus,” she gasped. She leaned back. Dizziness overwhelmed her. “That’s some strong shit.”

“Yeah.” Misty kept puffing on it. “You alright?” Cordelia lay on her back, gazing up at the stars. Misty was right. They were beautiful tonight. The whole sky had her in awe. Misty grinned down at her and copied her, lying back on the roof. “Ain’t it beautiful?”

“Mhm.” Cordelia didn’t feel as chilly now. She kept Misty’s hand in hers. “Do you come out here a lot?”

“Whenever I can’t sleep, unless it’s raining,” Misty confirmed. “Sometimes when it’s raining…” She gave the joint back to Cordelia, who took another hit. The second one didn’t cramp her lungs as badly. “This is the only place I feel like—like a normal person,” she whispered. “The cold air, and the stars… I don’t know. It makes me feel. It’s the only time I ever really do feel.” When she took the lit joint from Cordelia, she took a final hit from it before it disintegrated into nothing, and she dropped it from the roof. “I feel so numb…”

Misty’s hand in hers was bony but warm. Cordelia gave it a squeeze. She tingled all over. That’s some good stuff. She turned her head to look at Misty. “I want to help.” The wind carried her voice. A small, sad smile touched Misty’s face. “What can I do?”

“You’re here.”

But that’s not enough. Cordelia couldn’t heal Misty. “When did it start?” she asked.

Long, spidery fingers shifted in Cordelia’s, taking their hands from clasped to folding their fingers together in a series of mountains and valleys between their knuckles. “When he lit the match.” Misty’s eyes were distant, unfocused. In their depths, the starlight reflected. Cordelia imagined an ember there, too, lying deep in the navy tones of Misty’s eyes, only coming to the surface when she remembered her darkest hours. “The gasoline hurt when he poured it on me. It burned, kinda, like acid. And it tasted—it tasted so bad. I was choking on the vapor before I ever saw the flame. And then he struck the match. That was the last thing I felt, when he dropped it on me.” Misty’s distant eyes moved to the sky. “Now, any touch… That’s all I can remember, or I don’t feel it at all.”

Cordelia watched her, tears budding in her eyes as the moonlight glimmered over Misty’s alabaster face. “What did it feel like?”

Misty’s eyes flitted to Cordelia, coming into focus. “Not everything feels like something else.” She squeezed Cordelia’s hand, and then she looked away. “I’m sorry if I woke you up. I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s an honor.” Cordelia stroked the back of Misty’s hand with her thumb. “I care about you, Misty… I want you to be okay.” These words brought Misty’s eyes back to her face. “And maybe together, we can work on that—that not-feeling thing.”

Teary blue eyes met Cordelia’s. “It’s scary. It hurts to try to break out of it. I think I’m safer this way.”

“But you know that’s not healthy.” Misty nodded, averting her eyes. “Maybe we can just start with a hug?” she suggested.

Misty chuckled, a wry, quiet thing. “Okay.” She opened her arms.

Cordelia blinked a few times up at her. Her limbs didn’t seem to want to coordinate themselves for her to sit up and meet Misty halfway. “I’m so high that if I move, I’ll fall off the roof… so you come to me?”

Misty giggled. It was light and happy. Cordelia hoped she got to hear it many more times. Her arms wrapped around Cordelia, and her floral scent wreathed them in joy. Cordelia held onto her body as Misty helped pull her up. The world spun around. Cordelia laughed. Misty didn’t let go, and neither did Cordelia. “You can’t take your pot very well, can you?”

“I haven’t smoked since college.”

“You could’ve said no,” Misty pointed out gently. “I would’ve understood.”

“I wanted you to be impressed.”

“Impressed by you unable to move on the roof and having to roll you back inside? You’re right, I’m riveted,” Misty teased. She helped Cordelia sit up. “Thank you, Miss Cordelia.” The wind tousled her pale gold hair, almost silver beneath the full moon. “I appreciate your help.”

Cordelia smiled. “Anytime. I don’t mind. I want to be here for you.” She fumbled for the open window and managed to land on her feet, with Misty clinging onto the back of her robe to keep her from stumbling over herself. “What was Spalding doing up here? It reeks.”

Misty shrugged. “I looked for it, but I can’t find the source. But the dolls are super creepy.”

“Well, we can clean it up so you don’t have to climb through it when you need the roof.” Cordelia stifled a yawn with the palm of her hand. “I bet these dolls are worth some money.”

“Probably.” Cordelia stumbled over the opening to the ladder. “Careful, there.” Misty steadied her. “Let me go first. I’ll catch you if you’re too messed up to use the rungs like a person.” Cordelia snorted. “Sh! People are asleep. They’ll hear you.” Cordelia found this especially amusing and covered her mouth with her hand to try to muffle the sounds. Misty walked her back to her bedroom. “Get some sleep, Miss Cordelia.”

“I will.” Cordelia paused outside the door, and Misty looked at her expectantly before sinking into another hug. “Goodnight, Misty. Text me if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Cordelia closed her bedroom door, but she left it unlocked, just in case Misty decided to follow her into the room.

…

Several weeks passed. Misty interrupted Cordelia’s sleep a few times. Each time, the foghorn awoke Cordelia, and she promptly answered it. Misty shared with her, little by little, and they exchanged memes and pictures. They worked together on cleaning out the attic, so twice, Cordelia joined her on the roof in the middle of the night, and they watched the stars or the sunrise.

The sunrise had never been so beautiful as it was when it struck Misty’s exhausted face and rumpled hair.

Cordelia had just started to drift off to sleep when a ragged scream pierced the air, echoing through the walls. “Huh?” She pushed herself up onto her elbows and tore off her sleep mask, reaching for the lamp on her bedside table. The foghorn noise blinged off thrice in succession. She jumped out of the bed and dropped her phone. “Goddammit!” She fumbled around on the floor to find it.

Misty’s name scrolled across her screen. She slid the notification open. “HELL.” The next messaged was, “HHELP,” followed by a quick, “PLEAS.” Cordelia flung her phone back onto the mattress when Misty’s patchy cry ripped between the walls again, inconsolable and distraught. Her feet slapped the hardwood floor, rushing to Misty’s bedroom door. She flung it open. Misty thrashed on the bed in the dark. The blankets had tangled up around her like ropes. She battled them, tearing at them, as she gnashed her teeth and wailed.

“Misty!” Her name didn’t disturb her from this nightmare. Cordelia tore the blankets from Misty’s body and tossed them onto the floor. Astonished, terrified blue eyes wrenched open, bloodshot and rimmed in red. They couldn’t focus on Cordelia; they were with her mind, somewhere far, far away. Her cell phone was facedown on the floor. “Misty—” Cordelia sat beside her on the bed. She reached to take one of Misty’s hands.

Recoiling like Cordelia had burned her, she shrieked again. “It burns! Don’t touch me, it burns, it hurts!” She retreated into the corner of her bed, wedging herself up against the wall. Her eyes didn’t see anything at all, nothing but shadows and flames. Hands bunched into fists, she curled up into a ball, hitting herself. “Make it stop!”

Cordelia followed her. “Misty, I’m here—I’m here.” She placed her hands on Misty’s shoulders, drawing her near, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn’t hit herself. “You’re hurting yourself.” Misty howled, unintelligible but anguished, in response to Cordelia’s gentle touch. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” She pressed Misty’s face into the crook of her neck, snot and tears and thick saliva pouring from her face over Cordelia’s robe. There was a warm, wet spot in the center of the bed, and the heady scent of urine clung to the front of Misty’s nightgown. “Misty, I’ve got you, I’m here.”

Another wail flew from Misty’s lips, muffled against Cordelia’s shoulders, and she writhed in terror and in pain. “It burns!”

“It doesn’t burn, it’s in your head—you’re here, you’re safe—” The lights flicked on, and Cordelia lifted a hand to shield her face, but icy water dumped over the bed, bathing both her and Misty in a frigid shower. “J-Jesus Christ.” Using her hand, Cordelia flung the slushy droplets from her eyelashes, peering up at Madison, Zoe, Nan, and Queenie, who all hovered over the bed. Madison still clutched the bucket she had used to pitch the water onto them, her jaw set and firm. “What the hell has gotten into you girls?”

Slowly, Madison lowered the bucket, setting it on the floor with a hollow click. “Sorry. That’s the only thing we’ve found that works.” The girls gathered around, sitting in a circle on the piss-soaked, frigid bed, ice cubes and water pooling on the covers. “We would’ve been faster, but somebody was occupying the upstairs tub.”

“Oh, back off,” Queenie snapped. “She hadn’t had one in weeks. I thought I could use a bath bomb in the middle of the night in peace for once.”

Motionless and quiet, a shiver passed through Misty’s body. Cordelia looked back at her. What Madison had said was true—her teary blue eyes were lucid again. “Thank you,” Misty whispered, her voice hoarse and brittle. She didn’t let go of Cordelia, and Cordelia smoothed a hand up her back. She flinched and grimaced. The phantom pain hadn’t left her yet. Azure eyes averted to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake all of you again.”

How many times has this happened? Clearly, before they’d acted fast enough to keep it from waking Cordelia—or she was an abnormally heavy sleeper, which she found unlikely. “Does this happen often?” she asked, tucking a sweaty and wet blonde curl behind Misty’s ear. Her eyes fluttered closed at the intimate touch.

“It used to be every other night,” Zoe said, sitting cross legged on the bed in spite of the wet blankets. “Nan would hear it coming before it happened, so Queene would put a silencing spell on the room so nobody else woke up, and Madison would fill up the super soakers.”

“It was like storming the beaches of Normandy every night around four AM,” Nan affirmed with a pleased nod.

No wonder they all seemed so tired all the time. Cordelia was ashamed she had missed it. All this time, she had regretted the council had too much drama to support Misty the way she needed it… Maybe I was the one failing Misty. Misty blinked a few times. “What happened to the super soakers?” she rasped.

“You kept exploding them with your mind,” Madison reminded her, sitting beside Zoe, and her voice was unusually smooth and soothing—no hint of sarcasm or bullying. “The bucket is altogether more effective.” Misty blinked a few times, wiping the icy drops from her eyelashes. She carried a dazed look, her trembling hand in Cordelia’s. Cordelia didn’t allow an inch of space between them. “But your bed is ruined. C’mon, get up. You can have Zoe’s bed. It’s her turn to wash your bedclothes.”

“It was my turn the last time.”

“It’s definitely Madison’s turn,” Nan insisted.

“Madison just carried a five gallon bucket of ice water up the stairs from the backyard, so it’s somebody else’s turn,” Madison reminded them.

A wrinkle appeared between Misty’s eyebrows. “Why didn’t you just float it?” Her voice was barely audible over the rest of the girls tittering. They were so familiar with this routine.

“Why didn’t you just float it?” Madison mimed in a high-pitched voice, and a sleepy, odd smile crossed Misty’s face, her fatigued eyes crinkling at the corners when she breathed a chuckle out of her nose. “When I’m having panic attacks in the middle of the night, you can float all the water you want.”

Cordelia pressed her hand into the small of Misty’s back. “Don’t worry about the bedclothes, girls. I’ll get them tomorrow.” It was the least she could do, given she had somehow managed to miss all of this for months. Misty clutched her hand tightly, like she feared she would leave, but Cordelia wasn’t going anywhere. “Come with me.” Misty hitched a tight breath when Cordelia touched new parts of her body. “You can take a bath, and I’ll get you some clean clothes. You can stay with me.” Gangly limbs unfolded from where Misty had wedged herself in the corner between her bed and the wall, and she slid across the soaking sheets to follow Cordelia’s gentle touch.

Misty looked back at all of them. “Thank you,” she uttered. Their gazes followed them down the hallway. Cordelia opened her bedroom door and gently closed it behind them, the latch clicking into place. Misty didn’t make eye contact with her. “I’m awful sorry I woke you up.”

A hand went to caress Misty’s cheek, but she flinched away. Cordelia kept her hand to herself. “Misty, I’m not upset… I want to take care of you.” A harsh shudder passed through Misty’s limbs. “Let me draw you a bath, okay?”

“Cold water, please—” Misty’s voice cracked.

“Okay,” Cordelia agreed. She did as she promised, running the water as cold as it would go and filling it with bubbles She gathered up a towel and a nightgown and folded them in the bathroom where Misty could reach them, and then she left the door open for Misty, who stood like a phantom, gazing at the floor. “Hey.” She didn’t touch Misty again. “Are you okay?”

Misty nodded. They both understood it was a lie. “Can I leave the bathroom door open?” she whispered. “So I can see you?”

“Of course. I’ll stay right in bed.” Misty hesitated before she extended a shaking hand to Cordelia. Cordelia took her by the fingertips, not touching anything else, and brushed the pads of her fingers across them. “Call me if you need anything.” She lingered there until Misty pulled away, and she headed for the bathroom. Misty left the door to the bathroom ajar, wide open, so they could see each other, and like this, she stripped herself of her clothing.

Cordelia kept her eyes to herself, viewing only a flash of ivory skin before she turned her back and changed out of her own sodden nighty in exchange for a clean, dry one. She settled herself onto the bed, the covers drawn back from where she had flung them when she had scrambled to Misty’s side. In her haste, she had folded her phone up in the blankets, and now she reached under them to find it. As she searched, the foghorn noise rolled in. Cordelia blinked in surprise, following the noise and pulling the phone out. Misty had just texted her. She took her phone with her in the bathroom, Cordelia realized.

“I don’t remember texting you,” Misty said.

A small smile touched Cordelia’s face. “I’m glad you did.” She sent a heart emoji and a heart-kiss emoji. Misty sent her a heart of a different color and some heart eyes. “Is it easier to text than talk?”

“My throat hurts.” She was screaming, Cordelia acknowledged. Of course her throat hurt. But then, Misty added, “My chest hurts when I have that dream. The fumes still burn. My skin still hurts.” Cordelia’s phone made the foghorn sound again. “I didn’t realize your text tone was so loud.” Another foghorn noise.

Cordelia smiled, tilting her head back as she relaxed in the bed. “I turn it on loud at night so I’ll wake up if somebody needs something.” It was only partially a lie, that only Misty’s texts made the foghorn sound and everyone else was expected to wait until the sun came up for their chance at Cordelia’s attention. “You can use the lotion in there if you want.” She hoped the invitation would help Misty’s nerves adjust to the real world, to the awakening world, instead of being dragged back into her memory again and again.

“Thanks.” Foghorn noise. Cordelia sent her a heart, and she listened as Misty splashed in the tub and rinsed her body and her hair. Cordelia put her phone aside. She grew sleepy, but she stayed there, sitting up against her pillows, until she heard Misty unplug the drain and all the water rush down it. From where she sat in bed, she could see Misty stepping out of the tub and hastily drying herself. She rubbed her hair and her body. This time, Cordelia couldn’t bring herself to avert her eyes—perhaps she was too tired to remember to be couth. If Misty noticed, she didn’t mind or say anything. She donned the sheer lace nightgown Cordelia had given her, and she placed her dirty clothes and the wet towel in the hamper.

Misty sat down on the bed beside Cordelia, on the edge, like she was afraid to encroach upon too much of Cordelia’s space. She shivered from head to toe. Her lips were blue with the cold. Cordelia lifted her eyes to look at her. “You’re freezing.” She pulled the covers back. “Come here, let me warm you up.”

Blue eyes found hers, and she grimaced as she scooted along the sheet. Even the smooth fabric irritated her body. “The cold helps,” she whispered. Her lower jaw chattered. The tips of her fingers, too, were tinted gray. She lay on the pillow, facing Cordelia. Cordelia’s hands moved toward her. Misty’s whole body tensed in some terrible anticipation, her eyes wide with fear and pain.

“Misty…” Misty’s eyes fell closed heavily with shame. Cordelia touched their fingertips against one another’s. Misty gasped quietly at the touch. She had expected something much more brutal and heavy-handed. What type of people have touched her throughout her life? “I won’t do anything to hurt you. Let me start with your hands… You tell me when to stop.”

Misty nodded. Cordelia brushed her fingertips against Misty’s, drawing circles around the pad of each finger. She moved down her long, spidery fingers in a spiral to the first knuckle, and then back up to the tips. A long breath wafted from between Misty’s lips. The tension ebbed from her. “That feels nice.” Cordelia headed down again, this time spiraling her touch all the way down to the base of her fingers and coming back up again to the tips. Her face relaxed as Cordelia worked. With her next movement, she followed Misty’s hands all the way down to the wrist.

She paused, waiting for some encouragement, and Misty gave a slight nod, urging her on. Cordelia smiled a grim smile, and she started at Misty’s fingertips again, this time meandering all the way down to her forearm. Misty’s muscles eased under her gentle touch. She rubbed the tendons and ligaments which were ordinarily so tight. She made it to Misty’s elbows, and then, following her pattern of reaching joints, she worked her way back down her arm, massaging any of the muscles that twitched beneath her touch. She reached Misty’s fingertips again, and she repeated the process, past her wrist, past her elbow, pressing her fingers deep into the muscles of Misty’s upper arms.

As her fingers grazed the tip of Misty’s shoulder, she paused as blue eyes flickered open and found her. Misty reached for a hug, and Cordelia accepted it, wrapping Misty up in her safe embrace. “Miss Cordelia?” Misty whispered, to which Cordelia hummed her acknowledgment. “Am I the only person who makes your phone make the foghorn noise?”

This question surprised Cordelia. But she answered it honestly. “Yes, you are.” She brushed her hand over Misty’s damp curls leaving watery streaks on the pillowcase. “Why do you ask?”

“Maddie thought so. She texted you a few times to make sure. I didn’t hear the sound again.” Indeed, Cordelia’s phone hadn’t made a sound—Misty was the only person who had a text tone. For everyone else, it was on vibrate. “I thought she was just trying to make me feel better.”

Cordelia allowed Misty to snuggle nearer to her, face pressed against her body. “Feel better about what?” she asked.

Azure eyes found hers in the dim light of the room. “That—That I love you.” Oh. It struck Cordelia in the pit of her gut, these words. “Maddie thought… you know. I told her it wasn’t, but she’s been blowing up my phone regular about it since I started texting you instead of her.”

“You used to text her instead?” Misty’s brow quirked in bewilderment, and Cordelia realized that a vague, strange, jealous answer was not what Misty had expected to hear. “Er—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded.” But I did, didn’t I? She was somewhat envious of Misty’s attention, not in a way she would ever act upon, but in a way that gave her a slight tingle in her tummy at the thought of Misty choosing to be with her over someone else. It made her feel victorious in a way. “She’s not wrong,” she said finally. Misty blinked, not saying anything yet. “I do… feel a certain way for you. But that’s not why I’ve been spending time with you.”

Misty smiled. “I know.” She sighed happily, easing into Cordelia’s arms. She was relaxed, worn from her ordeal, but her heavy-lidded eyes didn’t yet fall closed. “If we’re still working on the—on the not-feeling thing, maybe we could try kissing?” Misty suggested.

A ridiculous grin crossed Cordelia’s face. She hadn’t even considered it. “I think I’d like that.” She puckered up her lips, and Misty slid forward and pressed her mouth to them gently. It was clumsy and raw and strange, them clutching each other, and when they broke away, they both were a little breathless. “That was nice.” Misty nodded. “We should do it again sometime.”

A silly laugh left Misty’s open mouth. “I agree.” She nestled close against Cordelia. Her body was warm. “I’m tired,” she said quietly.

Cordelia kissed the crown of her head. “Get some sleep… I’ve got you.”

Misty fell into a dreamless sleep.

…

The next night, Cordelia was surprised to enter her bedroom to find it empty. For some reason—and she couldn’t quite think of why—she had expected Misty to join her again. She left her door unlocked as she showered, just in case Misty decided to enter, and when she emerged, she checked her phone. No one had messaged her. I’ll wait. Part of her wanted to text Misty first, but another part of her worried she had misinterpreted the night before completely. But the hours ticked by, ten into eleven into midnight and beyond.

By one, Cordelia couldn’t help herself any longer. “Are you okay?” She added a heart emoji.

Immediately, Misty answered, “Yes,” and the foghorn noise buzzed. The gray speech bubble appeared and disappeared and appeared again as Misty typed more out to her. “I miss you, though.”

Cordelia almost sighed with relief. “You too. Come over.” Within minutes, Misty tiptoed across the hall and closed the bedroom door behind her. “Hey. I was waiting for you.” She drew the covers back, and Misty folded herself underneath them. Her hair was tousled and eyes heavy. She looks like she was asleep. Cordelia spooned up beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked again, just in case the answer in real life would change.

A sleepy smile touched Misty’s face. “I’m great.” She put her hand over Cordelia’s where she clasped her body. “I’m sorry… I thought maybe I had gotten everything wrong, so I didn’t want to come unless I was invited.” Her voice was heavy and thick.

Kissing the crook of her neck, Cordelia smelled her hair. “I should’ve texted sooner. I was afraid I’d gotten it wrong.” Misty made a happy, satisfied sound, settling down into the bed, and she fell asleep within minutes with Cordelia’s arms wrapped around her. She never settles so easily. Cordelia was glad Misty finally had some reprieve, but some part of her was still a little curious… She reached for her phone, and she texted Misty, “I love you.”

Misty’s phone blared a siren sound. She shuddered awake. “Uh—huh?” Blind hands groped for the phone. “Delia—” She had forgotten where she was, and her hands fumbled for the phone.

“Sweetheart, I’m right here.” Cordelia squeezed her from behind.

Misty peeked back at her. “What the hell’d you text me for?” she grumbled, but she rolled back over and nestled happily against Cordelia’s body, purring as Cordelia stroked her hair. She rubbed her face into Cordelia’s hand. She was a satisfied cat soaking up the sunbeam as long as Cordelia was near. Cordelia’s heart swelled with joy, and she allowed Misty to settle down, holding her near and focusing on the sound of her breaths until she drifted off to sleep.

…

Cordelia didn’t hear the foghorn very much after that. Every night, Misty would curl up beside her, and they would stay close to one another until sleep consumed them. Misty’s bad dreams woke Cordelia when she stirred in the middle of the night. She had a night terror, too, and Cordelia dragged her to the tub and dropped her in cold water. The girls were right. It worked. Then, she bathed Misty’s body in the cold water and touched just her fingertips until the rest of her skin could accept touch once again. She slathered Misty in lotion to try to soothe her aching skin. Her blue lips buffered as Cordelia helped her don a fresh nightgown she hadn’t sweated in.

“I’m so sorry.” Misty never stopped apologizing. Cordelia refused to accept the apology; Misty had done nothing wrong, and Cordelia told her so over and over again. She combed Misty’s wet curls back out of her eyes after she washed the sweat from them. “I thought I was getting better…”

“You are,” Cordelia soothed. “You are getting better. It takes time.” She spun Misty around and kissed her hard and led her back to bed, where she eased Misty into her touch until she could accept it, and then they made love passionately. Cordelia touched Misty until no part of her body shuddered with pain or with fear.

Swimming in the post-orgasm haze, Misty spooned Cordelia. She was barely awake. “I think I want to marry you, Delia,” she whispered against the back of Cordelia’s neck.

Cordelia blushed. This was the most unofficial way anyone had ever proposed to her—though, granted, it was only the second time she had ever been proposed to. “You want us to get married?” she asked, just to clarify, and Misty hummed her vivacious approval. “Alright. We can get married.” And they did less than a month later in the foyer of their home with the whole coven applauding.

Cordelia never turned off the foghorn noise on her phone, though it only woke her now when Misty wanted to get high on the roof in the middle of the night and didn’t want anyone else to find out. Now, Misty would wake her by tugging her closer in the middle of the night, whispering sweet nothing into her hair. If she fought a nightmare, Cordelia pulled her from her dreams with gentle hands and showed her pictures of fat babies and sad puppies and evil kittens, and they took some pictures of their own, as well. They rested at ease in one another’s arms. “I’m so grateful to have you, Delia.” Misty pressed these words against her hair.

“I’m luckier to have you, sweetheart.” Cordelia believed it to be true.

#foxxay #misty day #lily rabe #sarah paulson #cordelia goode #raulson #my writing

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marril96 · 5 years ago

Text

The Distance Between Us

Epilogue: What the Future Holds

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Five years later...

A/N: Here we are, folks. This is the end. I would like to thank everyone who helped me get this story to where it is. From my wonderful editors to my faithful readers — I appreciate every single one of you amazing people. Thank you so much! For reading, commenting, helping me out, talking to me, believing in me, encouraging me to continue even when it was hard. I hope the ending is satisfying enough, and that we will hang out soon when I work on my other projects. Best of regards, Mariana. ♥

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

There was nothing better than a wedding to get the old gang back together.

It had been a while since you'd seen everyone all at once.

Five long years — ever since you'd graduated high school.

There were times when it felt as if it had happened yesterday. As if you'd just said goodbye to your friends before everyone went their own way, their own direction, colleges and jobs calling.

Time sure liked to fly.

You made sure to stay in contact with everyone. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; all tools you readily used. They were your friends. Some distance couldn't change that.

The seven of you had your own Facebook chat group that was filled to the brim with messages. Memes were shared. Laughs exchanged — in emoji form, but laughs nonetheless. News, good and bad, were told. Advices asked for and given.

It almost felt like old times.

Almost.

But not quite.

The truth was, despite how hard you tried to maintain your friendship, things changed.

Life happened.

Sam had gone to Stanford on full scholarship, dreaming big of contributing to the world, helping save it. With the way things were going, you were confident he would do it. If anyone could help make the world a better place, it was him.

In his free time, he liked to give speeches on healthy lifestyles, which, for some bizarre reason, consisted of consuming a lot of kale.

A kale smoothie had become a signature of his, the cup seemingly glued to his hand.

He'd become a hit on the internet for it. A meme everyone in your friend group shared and poked fun at. Light-heartedly, of course.

Dean was convinced Sam was doing it to embarrass him.

Sam, in turn, had told him a healthier diet would do him good.

Dean wasn't interested, and, a few hours later, had posted a picture of himself stuffing a big, greasy hamburger into his mouth with the caption #DownWithKale.

Sam was not amused.

Crowley had changed his name as soon as he'd turned eighteen. Crowley had officially become his name, Fergus long forgotten, thrown in the trash where he felt it belonged.

His family still called him Fergus.

Well, Rowena and his mother did. Gavin, the good boy that he was, had always referred to him as Crowley, which was why he was Crowley's favorite family member (his only family member, if he had any say in it).

He'd gone into studying business, rich businessman future planned out to the smallest details. He'd intended to work his way to the top; it would take a while, but he was confident hard work, combined with his cunning, ambitious nature, would earn him the throne.

Maybe, he'd mused, he could eventually open his own company. Be his own boss. Set his own terms.

May he have the best of luck.

Castiel had gone into teaching. A surprising choice of career, especially considering his awkward nature, but it was what he wanted to do. Helping kids. Guiding them by his own example.

He certainly had the drive for it.

Who knows? Maybe kids would like him. Maybe they would like his awkwardness.

Meg, not really the scholarly type, had gone to community college and had found herself working in a supermarket.

She hated her job, and she hated the customers even more. The chat was frequently filled with her rants about one thing or another that had occurred at work that particular day.

Funny stuff, usually.

Especially when she snapped at customers and got reprimanded for it, but kept doing it anyway because her boss knew all too well he couldn't afford to lose her as an employee.

Instead of a college, Dean had gone into trades. He'd opened his own little mechanic shop back in Lawrence. It was hard work, far from ideal, paid just enough to cover the costs of living, but he enjoyed it. He was happy.

That was all that mattered.

Rowena had worked hard on her intensive at Joffrey. It was a difficult three months; she was always practicing, always dancing, on her feet from dawn to dusk. You'd barely gotten to talk, aside from the weekends, which you'd spent in front of your phones or laptops, Skype open, smiles wide as you talked about each week's events.

You'd missed her so much.

Too much.

But, as with all things, the intensive had eventually ended and you'd gotten to have her home for a week — a whole week! — before college officially started.

The two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other that entire time.

It wasn't enough — seven measly days was far from enough — but it was something.

After three months of drought, it was the welcome, desperately awaited rain.

Parting for college was even more difficult. You'd each gone your own way, different as you were, each pursuing your own dream.

It was a struggle, but, like the intensive, you'd made it work.

You'd kept in contact. Skyped at every available moment. Traveled to one another's schools when the opportunity arose. Made sure to spend the holidays (the most important ones) together.

And, just like that, years had gone by, and soon enough school was behind you and you were together once again.

The decision to move in together was a mutual one. It was more of an understanding, really. With school behind you, jobs calling, and the relationship stronger than ever even all these years later, it just made sense to take it a step further.

Why wouldn't you live together?

You did everything else together, so you might as well, to quote Crowley every time he walked in on you making out, get a room.

So you did.

You rented an apartment in Manhattan. A small one that, despite its size, was warm and pleasant and felt just like home.

Your and Rowena's home.

Sometimes it felt like a dream.

As if, every moment now, you would wake up and realize the last five years of your life were nothing but a fantasy, a product of your sleeping mind.

Then you would kiss Rowena's cheek, take a sip of tea from her mug just to tease her (her glares and pouts were adorable), and smile, and the reality — your reality, one you'd worked hard to accomplish, your so wished for future — would settle in and all the silly thoughts would go away as if they'd never existed.

You'd made it.

The future you'd dreamed of, that you and Rowena had planned for so thoroughly, had come to be.

It wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

Rowena had found work at Broadway. She was a dancer, and an excellent one; with Joffrey on her resume, the job was hers the moment she'd stepped into the audition room.

You were having difficulty with finding employment yourself, but, luckily, her pay was enough to cover the living costs of the two of you.

You felt bad; the last thing you wanted was to look as if you were taking advantage. But she'd made it clear she didn't mind. You were together. A family, for no other word could describe what you had, what you'd built and grew together. What was hers was yours, and vice versa.

Being a housewife wasn't your ideal profession, if one could call it that, but it wasn't bad.

It was, dare you say it, fun.

You found yourself enjoying awaiting Rowena's return after a long, exhausting day on her feet — literally — with a loving hug, a peck on the lips, and a warm meal on the table — a delivery from a restaurant or a warmed up can, for cooking was a skill you were still far from perfecting.

You were happy.

And so was she.

The two of you made it work.

Lately, Rowena had been considering joining the Royal Ballet. It was a big step, one that required careful thinking and plenty of discussions.

Moving to another city was one thing.

Moving to another country, half across the world, on the other hand…

She'd made it clear she wasn't going to make the decision without you. This concerned you, too; if you wanted to stay in New York, you would stay.

Both of you.

She just wanted you to think about it, weigh in cons and pros.

And you did.

You'd been thinking about it for weeks.

Bless her heart, Rowena was patient. She didn't push you, or rush you, or try to guilt you. She left you to your own pace.

You were immensely grateful for it.

By the time the wedding came, you were pretty sure you'd made up your mind.

In a day or two — hell, maybe even today, after the ceremony — you would tell her.

It was a small wedding, closest family and friends only. Sam was never one for parties. He and Eileen had rented a small cottage with a beautiful yard they'd decorated themselves. Quite cheap, as far as American weddings went, but lovely.

This was a wedding for love, not luxury.

When Sam had announced he was engaged in the group chat a year ago, you weren't surprised. You'd always had a feeling he would go for it first. While Dean was a one night stand kind of guy, Sam was more the settle down type. The kind of guy who kicked ass at work during the day and then cuddled with his wife and kids at night. The picture of a family man.

And, god, would he be a good one!

He was sweet and caring, a wonderful friend, and, no doubt, an even more wonderful boyfriend. Husband material, if you ever knew one.

Eileen was equally sweet, equally amazing. A lovely girl who treated everyone like a friend and loved Sam with all her heart.

They were perfect for each other.

Seeing your gang together after five years, in person, in full color, was an experience that was almost supernatural. There was screaming and squealing and hugging and teasing. You'd forgotten how noisy you were all together.

Your mind flashed back to high school, to afternoons at Biggerson's, sipping at your smoothies and coffees and stealing fries off each other's plates.

Those were the days.

There wasn't much difference to either of you. You were older, but other than that, you still looked the same. You teased each other as you'd used to, joked as if you were still that bunch of high schoolers who had the whole world under their feet.

There were changes, obviously. Inevitably. Some subtle, others not so much.

Sam's hair was an inch or so shorter, or so it looked in the pictures (he was still getting ready, having not yet shown himself to the guests).

You followed his example, having never been one for big change. Shorter hair was shorter hair, even if only a bit.

Dean bore — proudly — a few scars. Work injuries, though you were willing to bet he'd earned a couple in the bar fights he liked to brag about.

"You should see the other guy," he always said.

You never had any particular desire to.

Crowley had a small beard, and wore it well; it made him look older, more mature.

Emphasis on look, for he and Rowena still bickered like brats.

Gavin, the actual child of the family, was more mature than the two of them.

Rowena wore less sparkly clothes (she now saved those for special occasions). Instead, she preferred to wear dress pants and blouses that you found strangely arousing.

Sometimes you got her to role-play in them. She made one delicious businesswoman.

Castiel dressed the same, trench coat over everything (even wore the damn thing to the wedding), looked the same, acted the same, however, his change was big.

It tied right into Meg's for she was seven months pregnant, and her stomach was appropriately swollen to showcase it.

She'd gained a bit of weight and dyed her hair blonde, but her character remained the same.

She was still that same foul-mouthed, opinionated firecracker of a girl.

And you loved her for it.

"You look great!" you told her first thing you saw her. Then you threw an arm around her, your other one wrapping around Castiel, and said, "I couldn't wait to congratulate you guys in person! I'm so happy for you!"

You were.

Happy from the bottom of your heart.

Ecstatic.

Proud.

The two of them had done well for themselves. Like your and Rowena's, their life wasn't perfect, but they made it work. They lived it to the fullest.

They were happy.

In love.

Excited for the baby, a joyous little accident.

You weren't the parenting type, (neither was Rowena), however, while raising a family wasn't your particular dream, you couldn't have been more excited for them.

This was what they wanted.

What kind of a friend would you be if you judged?

Families came in all shapes and sizes.

As did dreams. Ambitions. Aspirations.

Supporting them, wishing them well in any and every form — that was the true meaning of friendship.

Meg and Castiel would make amazing parents.

Weird and eccentric, but still amazing.

That baby would be one happy, very loved kid. Surrounded by a large family of aunts and uncles, all loving, caring, eager to spoil them.

Blood-related and not.

As far as Meg and Castiel were concerned, your group was family.

It was definitely better than some actual family members.

Like Castiel's father, good old Principal Shurley, who'd, a couple years ago, gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble for embezzlement.

The news didn't quite shock you as it should have. There was always something about him.

Lucifer never stopped getting in trouble. Only, once he was out of school, his daddy couldn't sweet talk his way out of it (not that he hadn't tried; Castiel talked quite a bit about Chuck's restless attempts, and failures, to save him) and thus the darling little angel had gotten himself quite a record.

Assault.

Harassment.

Battery.

You name it, he'd done it.

It turned out that the police didn't give a damn about what daddy Shurley had to say about his son's character.

They surely gave even less of a damn now that he was serving his sentence for embezzlement.

Lucifer was currently with him, doing a two year stint for… something.

It was hard to keep track when it came to him.

The current Lawrence Hugh's principal was Amara Shurley, Chuck's sister, because of course she was.

Nepotism for the win!

Though, from everything you'd heard, she was, so far, doing a great job. Far better than her brother ever did.

Castiel had cut all ties with his father and brother. He'd considered doing so earlier, but now that he was expecting a child, the decision came with ease.

He didn't want his child around criminals. Didn't want them to set the wrong example.

That alone told you he was going to be a great father.

The ceremony, modest as it was, was beautiful. Eileen, in her snow-white dress, looked like a princess. No — a queen, the veil a doubling as a crown. Sam was equally handsome, clad in a black suit that made him look somewhat older, more mature, a fairy tale prince come to life.

They said their vows with so much love on their faces you were one hundred percent certain they would make do on them to the letter.

Til death did them part.

There were smiles. Tears. So much joy it was overwhelming.

Meg was the lucky one who caught the bouquet, only to promptly, in a deadpan tone, say, "No," and shove it in Crowley's hands.

Crowley shoved it in Dean's, who shoved it back to him and started what was basically a struggle over the damn thing.

Not marriage material, your group.

Sam was the black sheep.

Laughter was exchanged.

Food — delicious! — eaten.

Drinks downed and refilled.

Dances had.

Aside from the newlyweds, Rowena had proven herself to be quite an attraction with her precise, professional moves. Everyone wanted to be her partner.

Not a dancer yourself, you had no problem with it.

However, after what had to be the tenth request, you considered charging people to dance with your girlfriend.

It was only fair.

The celebration extended long into the night. There was enough alcohol to keep everyone going.

The place, located in the middle of nowhere, was perfect for a party. No neighbors to complain about the noise. No busybodies sticking their nose in. Just a group of people having the fun of their lives, drunk out of their minds.

By the time you and Rowena arrived to your hotel, you were exhausted. There was more alcohol than blood in your veins. Your feet were killing you. Your throat ached from singing and shouting.

You hadn't even removed your clothes — shaking off your shoes, you plopped on the bed, curled up against each other, and drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, Rowena was looking at you with a smile on her face. Your head pounding as if someone were whacking it with a hammer, eyes stinging, it took a bit of willpower to pull on one of your own.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Your voice was raspy, broken. You cleared your throat. Sucked in a breath.

God.

Singing had been a mistake.

Her smile melted into a smirk. She shrugged, nonchalant. Denying not a single thing. "I was just thinking."

"Should I be worried?" you teased.

"I'd hope not."

Her face grew serious.

Uh oh.

Now you definitely were worried.

Morning — a hungover one at that — was the worst possible time for serious conversations.

It wasn't a surprise, though.

Rowena prided herself in her unpredictability.

"What is it?" you asked, light draining from your face. Preparing for news that, at best, would be unpleasant, and, at worst, absolutely horrible.

"Sam and Eileen seem happy."

They did.

They were happy.

You nodded.

Rowena sighed, "Do you think we're happy?"

What was she trying to say? Heart racing, lump forming in your throat, you uttered a tad too defensively, "Do you think we're not?"

"Of course not!"

She seemed genuine, so there was that.

You allowed yourself a moment of relief. "Me, neither. I'm happy."

"As am I."

Good.

That was good.

You were on the same level.

She was silent for a few moments. Thought her words through. "I was just wondering if we should… take it a step further."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

You had an inkling, but you wanted to hear it from her.

You wanted her to confirm it.

Rowena swallowed. "Get married."

It was as if all air had vanished from your lungs. Your throat was dry. Heart, once again, running a marathon. Hands shaking as if you were cold.

You weren't — you couldn't be — for as soon as the words left her mouth, a wave of heat flooded you, filled you up from head to toe.

Marriage wasn't on your list of priorities.

Wasn't on any of your lists, as a matter of fact.

You and Rowena loved each other — you didn't need a piece of paper to prove it.

But…

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't considered it once or twice.

What would it be like to call yourself her wife? To wear her ring; a promise in the form of shimmery gold?

"Or maybe just get engaged," she said after a few moments of uncomfortable, deafening silence. "Wear the rings."

You looked at her, eyes wide. Mouth trembling.

She gulped. Uncertain. Frightened. Nervous to the bone. "We don't have to. I was just… thinking out loud." She pulled on another smile — a fake on this time, hurt flickering over her face no matter how hard she tried to mask it. "Forget I said anything."

"No." You reached for her hand, twined your fingers with hers in a tight knot. "We could try."

She was stunned. "Really?"

"I don't see why not."

What was the worst that could happen?

You were already together. Already happy and crazy in love.

"We could try the engagement thing, see if it works," you said.

You had nothing to lose.

At this point, you could only gain.

Rowena beamed. A chuckle escaped her; lovely, happy. Adorable. "Okay!"

It was a perfect arrangement.

"I will get you a ring," she added. "Make it official."

"How about we both get rings?" you said. This was kind of a mutual proposal, after all. And also… "There's nice jewelry shops in the UK, right?"

It was her turn to be confused. "What?"

Your decision.

The one you'd been planning to relay to her.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

"We don't have to get engaged in USA, right?" you said. "Think about it. You, a Royal Ballerina. Me, a not-so-royal couch potato. That's a romance movie right there!"

Rowena gasped. Swallowed. Breathed in and out in attempts to contain her excitement. "You want to move to Britain?"

"That's what I'm saying, aren't I?" You grinned. Squeezed her hand. "I've been meaning to tell you. I figured now's the perfect time."

"Y/N, I…" She brought your linked hands to her mouth, kissed your knuckles. "Thank you! I just… Thank you, darling!"

You locked your lips with hers. Deepened the kiss, melted into it. Thought of millions of more you would share.

The future was yours.

All you had to do was seize it. Take it. Dig your claws in and never let go.

"Don't you forget me when you become a world-famous ballerina," you teased.

"Och, darling," she purred, "don't you know by now you're quite unforgettable?"

You chuckled. "Just making sure."

She pecked you on the mouth. "I love you."

"Me, too."

You'd loved her for five years.

You'd loved her when she was bad, and even more when she became good.

You'd loved her when she was away, and you'd loved her when she was here.

You'd loved her in your apartment.

You'd loved her in the United States.

And you would love her in the United Kingdom.

You loved her now, and you would love her in the future.

Forever.

And ever.

Til death did you part.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #crowley #fergus macleod #sam winchester #eileen leahy #dean winchester #meg masters #castiel #fanfiction #my fics #high school au #rowena x reader

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timeisacephalopod · 6 years ago

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Bug

Just a lil Tony/Rhodey thing based around my completely evidenceless headcanon that Rhodey is terrified of bugs :) Bonus points for a dash of superfamily (without the super).

Tony drags his ass home from a long meeting only to have Rhodey immediately run behind him and grab his hips, forcing Tony in front of him. “Do you husband duties and kill the bug!” he yells.

Sam appears from around the corner with his cell phone out obviously filming. “Rhodey, you’re fine I’m sure the bug isn’t that big,” he says, familiar with how this game goes.

“That thing is the size of me and Miles abandoned me with it! We need a new son!” he yells.

He lets out a long sigh as Sam starts laughing, presumably again. “Rhodey we’re not disowning our kid because you don’t like that he tried to make you kill your own bug. We’ve talked about this- you’re a grown man, and you’ve fought in actual wars. Bugs are not scarier than people with guns and bombs,” he says calmly.

Rhodey looks at him like he’s nuts. “You wanna know what happens when you shoot people? They go down, same if you blow ‘em up. Wanna know what happens if you smack a bug off the ceiling? Fucking nothing because those little bastards don’t even take fall damage and they’re faster than me. Get the bug! This suburban shit is not for me, Tony, we are moving back to the city there were no bugs in your penthouse.”

Sam has doubled over, taking the phone with him and he’s laughing so hard he’s silent. “Rhodey, there are bugs everywhere- you have to deal with this.”

“I will file for divorce if you do not march your beautiful mayonnaise ass into that kitchen to kill that bug right now, Tony.”

He’s serious too, this has also happened before and Tony doesn’t want to explain to a divorce lawyer why ‘he didn’t kill the bug’ is the reason for a divorce. “This is why Miles abandoned you,” he mumbles.

“Well that’s fine, I abandoned him too, he’s cancelled. I have no time for ungrateful children who do not realize that they need to repay my love and support with bug killing duties,” Rhodey says. “Go get the bug.” He prods Tony forward a little and he lets out another sigh.

“Baby, what makes you think the bug is still where you left it?”

Rhodey freezes in terror for a moment before frantically looking around. “Why you say something like that you know how I feel about bugs!”

Sam continues wheezing away but he’s repointed the camera at him and Rhodey. Tony rubs his temples. “Honey, you need therapy to deal with bugs we can’t keep killing them for you. Hey, wait a second why the fucking haven’t you killed the bug?” he asks Sam.

“And miss this comedy? Hell no, this is way too funny to watch,” he says.

Rhodey gives him an offended look and turns to Tony, “you see what kind of rude ass friends you keep? That’s disrespectful!”

“Baby. Sam is your friend,” Tony reminds him. Its not like he’s the one who found Sam through the military that’s Rhodey’s deal.

“He sure shit isn’t now,” Rhodey mumbles. “Now kill. That. Bug.”

Sure, he could argue but what’s the point of that? So he goes into the kitchen and Rhodey leaves him at the doorway, apparently no longer willing to risk the bug while Sam follows him inside. “Its on the counter,” Rhodey tells him, half hiding behind the kitchen doorway.

“I don’t need you to be a back seat bug killer, honey. This is not the first bug I’ve killed for you,” he points out.

“Well you have a thirty nine percent fail rate and the bug reappearance rate is eleven percent so you need to kill that shit!” Rhodey tells him.

Sam lets out another loud wheeze, “he did the fucking math!”

“Damn right I did, I need to know who is the most efficient bug killer in this household. Miles has a seventy percent fail rate, that kid can’t kill bugs for shit. We should have another one- maybe that one will know how to kill bugs. Or could get a cat, they kill bugs, right?”

For a moment Tony allows himself to imagine a life where Rhodey is not a crazy person who does the actual math on who has the best bug killing success. Things are blissful, Miles does not have to abandon his father, a grown ass man, to kill his own bugs and Tony does not have to come home to a whole ass husband screaming about bugs. But then that wouldn’t be Rhodey and as much as this fear is ridiculous he does love his husband very much.

“Honey, you’re allergic to cats so we’re not getting a cat and we aren’t having another kid because Miles isn’t good at killing bugs. Now take a breath because I am going to kill this bug,” he tells Rhodey.

Rhodey lets out a small little gasp and hides behind the doorway further and honest to god the spider isn’t even that big and mostly seems to be minding its own business even if its on the counter. Tony looks around but Miles must have run off with the room’s Designated Fly Swatter so he grabs a plate and smashes it over the spider. Rhodey lets out a loud yelp, “why would you smash it with a plate, Tony!”

“There was no fly swatter,” he says as Sam starts wheezing again.

Rhodey looks at him like he’s nuts. “That’s not a logical solution, baby.” He’s looking at the counter with more concern than Tony thinks is strictly necessary and Sam is trying his best to point the camera while laughing. “That spider is dead, right?” Rhodey asks.

Tony looks over to the spider amongst the plate chunks. “Yeah, honey, its dead.”

Rhodey lets out a loud sigh of relief and leans into the doorway. “Oh my god, that was stressful I thought I was going to die today, damn. Get that plate out of here, I want nothing to do with that. And get rid of that counter too, that thing is deleted, send it to Guatemala I don’t give a shit just get it out of the country. We are moving from the suburbs, I don’t care if we have to send Miles to a different school I cannot handle these suburban bugs. White people are brave, a little too brave, you guys got cocky after colonization.”

Tony lets out a long sigh, “Rhodey, no one is going to eat off a broken plate. We already had to throw it out and the counter stays.”

Rhodey gives him a look, “are you suggesting that we’d keep that plate if it didn’t break? What is wrong with you! And we’re not keeping that counter either, I know what happened on it- I can’t eat from that anymore.” He gives the counter a distressed look and Tony sighs.

“You wouldn’t even know the difference.” He knows this because this is not the first time he’s used an unconventional weapon to kill bugs and Rhodey never notices after he forgets a bug was killed with it. Or if Tony fake buys a new umbrella so Rhodey won’t keep getting soaked in the rain because he killed a bug with the last umbrella. Not that he’ll fill Rhodey in on that detail because if he did then Rhodey would probably buy all new everything in an attempt to avoid bug taint.

“Would so- I’d be able to feel its evil energies,” he says and Tony lets out a long sigh.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means bugs give off evil energies and I can sense it,” Rhodey says, way too serious about such a stupid statement. Sam lets out another round of laughter at that.

Miles looks unimpressed, which isn’t unusual for a fourteen year old boy, but when he walks over with purpose Tony suspects something’s up. “Dad, why are a meme?” he asks Rhodey. Rhodey looks up from the tablet he’s reading the news from- also something Tony has killed a bug with not that Rhodey knows that’s the same tablet- and frowns.

“What?”

Miles holds out his phone and sure enough there’s a picture of Rhodey’s face when he’d told Tony that killing bugs with plates isn’t a logical solution. The caption on it is ‘when something isn’t a logical solution’ and Tony largely suspects its being used as a reaction image. “Huh, I didn’t think people would find that as funny as Sam,” he says. He’d posted the video to YouTube and said people thought it was hilarious but frankly Sam is as prone to exaggeration as Rhodey. He’s married to Bucky and he still complains that he’s the worst human to exist ever in the history of humanity. To be fair Bucky seems to share that sentiment.

“People love this video. Also you’re a meme too,” he tells Tony, taking his phone back for a moment and extending it again. Tony looks exceptionally done in the picture, clearly exhausted with Rhodey’s freaking out over bugs and people seem to find it funny.

“Why is your face looking like that? I was in danger and you’re out there looking like I was inconveniencing you? What kind of husband are you?” Rhodey asks, offended.

“Yeah, I think the reason people find this so funny is because you aren’t the typical Mulder vs Scully kind of opposites. Like the straight shooting guy smashed a bug with a plate and like... even the people watching this for the first time know that’s not the first time you’ve done something like that. So now you guys are weird vs weirder,” Miles says and Tony is genuinely impressed and also confused by the amount of time Miles has spent analyzing this. But then he’s spent a strange amount of time directing every piece of every Star Wars movie too. They came out when Tony was a kid but shit he has nothing on Miles’ love for the Star Wars universe.

“I don’t care why I’m a meme, how do I stop that?” Rhodey asks.

Of all the years of dealing with Tony’s fame he seriously asks that? “Memes go by fast, relax,” he tells Rhodey.

“If you don’t want to be a meme get therapy for the bugs. You got one measly ass bug in your ear as a kid and now you’re trying to convince us all to send the counter to Guatemala,” Mile says, shaking his head.

Rhodey gives him an offended look. “Excuse you, that was a traumatic event!”

“We know that, we’re living with the fallout and I do not have a seventy percent fail rate!”

“You do so, and those bugs have a seventeen percent reappearance rate. And you know what, this is all your fault,” he tells Tony and he frowns.

“What? How the hell is this my fault?” he asks.

“If you had’ve listened to me when I told you about the bug in my ear none of this would have happened!”

Oh yeah it would have but Tony isn’t going to argue about that. “Rhodey you didn’t tell me anything about the bug, you were screaming about helicopters in your ear.”

“That was me telling you about the bug! It was so loud in there flapping around!” He shudders and makes a face.

“Helicopters don’t fit in ears, Rhodey! How the hell was I supposed to know?”

He rolls his eyes, “oh what the hell else could it have been?” he asks.

Tony rolls his eyes, “I don’t know, I thought you dropped acid or something.”

Rhodey squints at him. “We were eleven, Tony. What kind of eleven year old drops acid?”

Miles lets out an annoyed noise, “who cares about the circumstances of the bug. You have been in war zones but its a bug that did you in? That’s not logical, dad. Get therapy so you can kill your own bugs.”

Rhodey stands, “I will sooner die in hell fire than kill my own bugs.”

Tony sighs and resolves to tell JARVIS to post this to YouTube too and Miles can deal with being the next ‘that’s not logical’ meme.

#tony x rhodey #ironhusbands #fanfiction #alternate universe #crack fic

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womenofcolor15 · 4 years ago

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Black Twitter Isn’t Here For DaniLeigh’s Cringey Apology Over ‘Yellow Bone’ Controversy – ‘I Date A Whole Chocolate Man’

DaniLeigh issues an apology in response to the never-ending Twitter dragging over her new track titled “Yellow Bone.” However, Black Twitter isn’t here for it. More inside…

Singer DaniLeigh has been getting dragged relentlessly on social media after she previewed her new song “Yellow Bone.” *face palm*

Her original post has been deleted, but here’s what she posted that launched the backlash:

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A post shared by The Shade Room (@theshaderoom)

In the caption she wrote, “Why I can’t make a song for my light skin baddies?? Why y’all think I’m hating on other colors when there are millions of songs speaking on all types.. why y’all so sensitive & take it personal…gahhh damn.”

The 26-year-old singer – who says ‘n*gga” excessively - isn’t even BLACK. More on that in a minute.

“Yellow Bone” is a termed used in the African-American community that refers to a light-skinned Black person. Many felt the track was offensive due to the colorist lyrics. We’re not sure who told the Dominican-American singer to do this, but no one asked for it. And folks are making sure she knows it…respectfully.

On the track, she sings:

Yellow, yellow what he want (What he wants, what he wants)

Yellow bone that's what he wants (What he wants, what he wants)

Prada, me in Saint Laurent

Prada

Oh.

We’d like to note, the song was likely created due to her own insecurities. She’s currently dating rapper DaBaby, who has a brown/dark-skinned ex/child’s mother named MeMe who he is seemingly in an off and on love triagle with. Their daughter is brown skinned as well.

The backlash became too much for DaniLeigh as she deactivated her Twitter for a while before reactivating it.

Now, she’s apologizing.

In her apology video, she attempted to make folks believe she isn’t colorist because she dates a “chocolate man” and has “beautiful dark-skinned friends.” You’ll notice she’s rocking blonde box braids, a staple hairstyle in the black community.

"I think people twisted it into thinking, like, I’m trying to bash another woman, another skin tone, that was never my intention,” she said. “I wasn’t brought up like that, I never looked at my skin as a privilege. I never looked at me as ‘I’m better than somebody because of my skin tone,'" she continued.

”I see brown skin women flaunt their skin all the time in music, why can’t I talk about mine? If you look at me, I’m light-skinned, I’m a yellow bone. In my opinion, that’s just what I am. So, it wasn’t something that I looked at so deeply. Which, I can see why people will take it deeply, so I understand and I’m sorry that I wasn’t sensitive to the topic when I wrote my comment ‘why are you guys taking so personal?’ Because, it can be a personal thing to certain people, because colorist is a real thing so I do get it. But I’m not that. I’m not a colorist. I’m not a racist. I date a whole chocolate man. I have beautiful dark-skinned friends.”

Peep her full apology below:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by MOVIEBYDANILEIGH (@iamdanileigh)

Ma’am! Dark skinned men are colorists as well. Dating one doesn’t automatically mean you aren’t a racist or colorist. *rolls eyes* And you don’t see color, but you’re calling yourself a “yellow bone" and DaBaby a "chocolate man?" Make it make sense.

Also, songs like Beyonce’s “Brown Skin Girl” were created because brown/dark-skinned women are hardly ever celebrated mainstream and Bey wanted to create a ballad young, BLACK girls can be proud about. Never implying brown skin was BETTER and never praising brown skin as a topic centered around the affections and admirations of a man. She can't say the same about "Yellow Bone".

Society equates beauty with its proximity to whitness and that’s no secret. Promoting that concept in any way is the equivalent of upholding the contruct of colorism. The two songs are NOT the same.

But get this….

She previously posted a pic of her parents, which Twitter users didn't waste any time pulling up again:

She reportedly called herself Afro-Latina at one point, we guess because a minuscule amount of her DNA was traced back to the continent of Africa (as most people in the world's are).

DaniLeigh’s Ancestry DNA results. It’s not just 12% as some people are saying but she’s definitely not a Black woman. She’s weird. pic.twitter.com/LCtmsvtW7k

— Becca (@BrummieBecca) January 21, 2021

Twitter users scrolled back down her timeline and found her post where she shared her Ancestry DNA results and, yeah. Many don't consider her a black woman. Especially if she's only going to be black when it's convenient.

Rapper Chika directly called DaniLeigh out on her ish:

no shade. as a black woman, you should be more than aware of colorism & why this song wouldn’t sit well with a black audience. it doesn’t feel good having a billion people at your neck, but it’s not about being “canceled.” it’s about taking accountability.

— CHIKA (@oranicuhh) January 21, 2021

"this is a terrible response to valid criticism," she tweeted to Dani. "no shade. as a black woman, you should be more than aware of colorism & why this song wouldn’t sit well with a black audience. it doesn’t feel good having a billion people at your neck, but it’s not about being “canceled.” it’s about taking accountability."

Love how she always keeps it real.

Needless to say, Black Twitter has been letting DaniLeigh HAVE IT on social media. Here are some reactions to “apology” below:

Bronzer & blackfishing is really f'ing y'all up out here. https://t.co/Ta8jfTyZi1

— YBF CHIC (@TheYBF) January 21, 2021

Danileigh: “ I Don’t See Color”

Well how the hell you know you yellow? pic.twitter.com/GQXxOTOgKs

— DecaturSummers (@DecaturSummers) January 25, 2021

Someone called Dani Leigh a conquistador and I am dead pic.twitter.com/WZT9Y18eaz

— Panashe (@pana_she) January 25, 2021

Dear DaniLeigh, I too am a yellow bone. pic.twitter.com/8U0e5Rahcf

— NUFF (@nuffsaidny) January 25, 2021

DaniLeigh : “I never looked at my skin as a privilege . I never looked at me as I’m better than somebody because of my skin tone.”

Also DaniLeigh: “Yellowbone is what he wants. “ pic.twitter.com/xERHfe1psG

— Stanley Hudson Jr. (@marcmacal) January 24, 2021

So Danileigh called Dababy a “Chocolate" man?? In an apology for being a colorist? Ok pic.twitter.com/W36zH2KnE4

— OUTLAW (@Tonny_Amaru) January 25, 2021

Danileigh made an “apology” video where she wore box braids, spoke in a blaccent, denied understanding colorism or light skin privilege, and said she had “melanated” friends so she couldn’t be racist. Unbelievable lmao pic.twitter.com/oqKSBJuTVF

— Mike fuccin you up nigga! (@SuccYuhMadda) January 25, 2021

Dani Leigh got a fake tan and a blaccent in order to get her career, but y’all surprised she colorist. pic.twitter.com/qm6adUEoWr

— weed is my best fren (@daphdadon) January 22, 2021

A BLACCENT (black accent)! We die!

Serves her right. No one asked for this trash song. It’s clear she was trying to flex her “light skin” in an attempt to bash DaBaby’s child’s mother and that ish BACKFIRED.

It’s above us now.

Photo: Dani's IG

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2021/01/25/black-twitter-isn%E2%80%99t-here-for-dani-leigh%E2%80%99s-apology-over-%E2%80%98yellow-bone%E2%80%99-controversy-%E2%80%93-%E2%80%98i-dat

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typei101 · 6 years ago

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“What do you dream of becoming when you’re older?” “A shit writer.”

Ever since I was 4 and learnt how to write simple sentences talking about who I am and where things are placed in a room, I knew I wanted to write. Something about writing phrases on a piece of lined paper put me in such a mental state I was addicted to. You could say I was my biggest fan. I used to parade my work into the face of teachers and family to read it and look in awe on how such a young person could write so well, but eventually as the years went on my fire slowly died away.

Whenever someone asked me “What do you want to be when you’re older?” I suddenly didn’t know what to say. My go to answer of an author just seemed like wishful thinking. Rather than parading my work into the faces of others I would tell them long, emotive stories about my dreams of being a writer and how my heart aches to regain the strength to write again. It would garner sympathy and passionate responses from people, namely my brother, but at one point it made me feel sick because I knew that what I was saying and what I was doing were simply lies.

I didn’t want to lie anymore: at 12 I decided I wouldn’t be a coward and I wanted to write again. I went on to Wattpad, the only place I felt safe in writing in. It had an environment of people too interested in bland generic stories to read my incomprehensible work, and it was such a large but accessible platform I could write comfortably without being judged. But what did I do? I still felt like there were eyes watching my work and I. Every second I wasn’t at the laptop checking on incognito to see if others could read my work, I was paranoid that somewhere, somehow someone I knew would use this as blackmail. So as an indefinite preventative measure, I made sure that everything I wrote was satirical. Over-exaggerated romance pieces on people doing disgusting or just stupid things with each other, with the themes matching up to whatever I knew the mainstream, or my friends would be into. When I was done making my confusing piece, I would send the link like wildfire to everyone I knew, just like how I used to when I was younger. Instead however, I was awaiting the reaction of confusion and horror instead of a proud pat on the back and the awe I was used to get high off.

I enjoyed being the funny friend in my circle, not only because I enjoyed making people laugh, but it lowered the standards people had of me making me feel so safe. I always wanted to feel safe in the company of others, always wanted to avoid being under the eye of scrutiny that I so mercilessly did with others in my spare time. I projected my biggest fears of someone latching onto my work to tear it down by doing it myself, and it only degenerated my work further and further. It got to the point where no one wanted to read my stories anymore. The shock and horror died down after they knew to expect weird wacky shit. I didn’t get the same kick out of writing it anymore either. It had seemed that what fire disappeared when I was 4 had died again.

I stopped writing for fun but instead found joy writing for my English GCSE. Tearing apart other people’s work, positively when writing for my grade but negatively when another person’s work was shown for us to learn about. I remember arguing with my English teacher about one particular piece that I found to be so stupid in getting that high of a grade. They made such a simple error in seeing a character as one dimensional in nature, when they were obvious layers to her, and the fact that 90% of the essay was building off of this bold assumption, it was bold of the examiner to give it an A grade. In a way, I felt jealous. Every time I wanted to answer an exam question, I would put so much thought into it, it seemed. I would make sure everything made sense to me as I’d write it, but then build on it so much more when writing it. I would proudly show my friends and teacher, and then when it came down to my mock exams consistently get low grades. It seemed like I wasn’t meeting expectations again, one of my biggest fears. All the passion I had for examining texts seemed to die, and right around the corner of the final exam season too. It all culminated with me getting a B in my final exam, when I had been projected to get an A*, one of the most crushing moments of my life. I left the hall that day with my grade close to my chest in quiet anger. My parents were disappointed in the way that parents would be no matter what the grade except for the ultimate best. But I was disappointed in what had happened. I escaped criticism for so long by not writing seriously and valuing my old works so much, but it truly seemed like I wasn’t on the same page everyone else was. I wanted to find my footing again. I wanted to write.

I began writing in secret, the only it would seem I could now. If I wanted to get on the same page as everyone I thought I had to do it alone. No one would care enough to cradle me and teach me how to be good, and it wouldn’t be good for me anyway. What I needed was strength, not a bullet point list on how to be a good writer. So began my long journey on figuring out how to the act of writing. I didn’t want to simply express whatever frustrations I had in jumbled words anymore. I just wanted to know how to convey feelings, thoughts and emotions through text again. The easiest way to do that was to write about what was easiest, and given my situation the easiest thing to do was to rant. So I opened up a private Instagram account where I would post pictures with long captions detailing frustrations I had in life with questions attached to almost every one of them. I needed to feel lost and confused, but more importantly I needed to keep the confusion in a place I could access later so I could hopefully learn from my mistakes. Soon enough my best friend found my account and wanted to read it. Though I was reluctant at first I let it happen, and soon my account changed back into a satirical account where I shitpost and repeated memes over and over again. So I deleted it. But the soothing effect that ranting gave me had reverted back to tension. So I opened another account. I let my friend follow. I shut the account down again. Again. Again.

I gave up on Instagram and began writing it on Tumblr. My friend didn’t know, but one day I told my brother about it and he read it. My Tumblr account emptied out shortly afterwards. I wrote some amazing things back then but I will never be able to get them back now. Regrets caused from being afraid of someone else’s opinion. In the end, I decided that I couldn’t even let the closest people in my life read my work, my fear and anxiety was deep rooted so far that I could only trust myself, even if that was because I didn’t have a choice. I moved back to Instagram, a private account.

My posts were brief at first, the first caption reading “I know I’m going to need to rant soon so I’m keeping this account open”. And so I did. I’ve been using this account for almost a year now, and no one follows it and it is one of the best things I have done. After writing there so much I decided I would give the old pen and paper a try. I began writing emotional rants with pretenses like “INCOMING EDGY TEENAGER FEELS !!!11” and other self-deprecating and satirical comments laden throughout the texts, so it was a safe way I could let out my feelings without taking myself too seriously.

These multiple venting methods stayed open, and along that came over a story, one I’m not proud of. But I’m proud of it. And I showed someone, and they didn’t get it and I didn’t care. I wrote something. I finished something. It stemmed from a place of irony in that I was mocking the vagueness of edgy fanfic but though at first I saw it as a joke and shared it as a joke, I enjoyed it. I analysed my own work, as vain as that is. And it serves as the main reason as to why I want to write again (again again).

I finally realised today that I didn’t want to be someone who keeps ranting start and stop. I also realised my dreams of being an engineer stemmed from a place of anxiety because it was a safe option, and being an author isn’t. I still want to be an engineer, but I want to become a writer. A shitty writer. It’s better than being someone scared of other’s opinions, because at least the first title has “writer” in it. I’m here to make a fool of myself and I want to take pride in that.

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jocelynships · 6 years ago

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all of the platonic asks

Okay so uhhh lets see who do I do these for *spins a wheel*

I’m gonna go with Warren for these bc I never talk about him even tho I love him? Like he’s so good! Good brother figure. Gonna do these under a read more since it’s a lot:

If they’re your parent(s) and they cook for you, what’s their “signature dish”? Same goes for the reverse: If you cook/You have a parental relationship, what’s your signature dish?Okay so Warren and I’s relationship is a sibling type relationship so… yeah lol. He makes a really good chicken parm though.

What’s your general relationship? Supportive? Goofy? Go around gossiping about people you hate?Pretty supportive! Warren gives pretty good advice and is one of the more level headed X-Men. Also he might point out fashion mistakes while we’re out in public, it’s actually pretty hilarious when he does.

How do they support you when you’re down? With advice, emotional support, both, or are they a bit awkward and neither?Warren sits down with me and lets me ramble about everything. He tries to give advice when he can, but he always lets me cry if I need to without being judged.

How did you meet, and when?When I first came to the mansion! After Hank had patched me up, Jean and Scott took me on a tour of the mansion where I met the rest of the X-Men (only Logan and Jubilee weren’t there yet, they came in a little after), and Warren was in the kitchen hanging with Rogue and Remy.

Do you ever do dangerous or illegal things with them?Okay, Warren doesn’t really do anything dangerous or illegal (that’s more Remy’s speed), and if he did he certainly wouldn’t let me do it with him lol. He does stupid things sometimes, but not before telling me not to do it first.

What kinds of presents do you get them?As a joke one year I got him a bird watching book. He wasn’t thrilled lmao. But for real gifts I get him a lot of grooming tools. He likes to look as presentable as possible at all times. Also, he seems to like the ties I get for him!

For familial relationships, are you adopted or biological family?None of us were actually adopted, but Warren kind of adopted me as a younger sister. He pretends we’re brother and sister whenever we go out.

What was your first impression?I thought he was kind of cool at first! He was pretty nice and didn’t ask too many questions about the injuries I had after arriving, which I appreciated. He even let me touch his wings after I asked if they were real.

What’s their dynamic with your romantic f/o, if it applies?Warren and Kurt get along pretty well! They team up on missions quite a bit and work together fairly well. Also Warren has given both Kurt and I advice on asking the other out.

How protective are they of you?Just like all the X-Men are, Warren is very protective of me. He doesn’t threaten people like Logan or Rogue will, but he usually shields me with his wings and will fly me out of the situation if he’s able to.

What kind of outings do you usually go on/What do you like to do together?Warren and I do a lot of hanging out at the mansion to be honest. When we go out in public, we’re usually with some of the others. But we have gone shopping a few times as just the two of us, and he’s taken me to some of his family events where he had to have a “date”. It helps him to have someone to pick on all the snooty rich people with.

Are they the kind who borrows your stuff and forget to give it back?Nah, if Warren needs to borrow something he’s good at giving stuff back. That’s Kitty and Bobby you gotta watch out for lol.

If you have the same clothing size, do you share clothes?I don’t share clothes with any of the guys aside from Kurt to be honest.

Do you play pranks on eachother?Warren isn’t the type to play pranks, but one time Bobby and I did the whipped cream on the hand thing. He chased us down and dumped the can onto Bobby’s head while holding me in a headlock though.

For sibling relationships, what arguments do you get into?We once had an argument on what was the best coffee one day. We often argue on food and drink brands. It’s dumb but it’s funny, especially when his wings start puffing up.

Do you have a secret handshake?Not really, he just kind of nudges me whenever he sees me.

How do they act when someone insults you?“Excuse you, but that’s no way to speak to a lady. Now apologize.”He’ll just keep repeating that until they do apologize while starring daggers into them.

How do they act when YOU insult you?He will stare at me and not say anything until I apologize to myself and say something nice about myself.

If you text, what do they send you? Memes? Selfies? 3 AM revelations?Alright, I’m the one who texts him dumb shit like pictures of birds I see with the caption “hey I saw you on 45th street what were you doing there” and he texts me back with a disapproving selfie or goes “you need to stop hanging around Bobby so much”

What kind of advice do they give you?Basically he talks sense into me. He helps me look at my issues from a logical standpoint.

What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done in front of them?I can’t think of anything specific, I do embarrassing shit all the time lets be real. Maybe when I jumped over a fence to go pet a dog and ended up falling flat on my face. He laughed at me for a minute before helping me up.

What nicknames do you have for them? What nicknames do they have for you?I call him big bird to mess around with him. He calls me ankle biter.

For familial f/os, do you live together?The X-Men and I all live in the same house so yes lol.

What kind of things do they teach you?Aside from how to fight, Warren taught me a bit about fashion, even though I’m still a fashion disaster and dress like it’s 1987.

This isn’t an ask, but a reminder that your platonic f/os care about you so much!*cries*

#asks #anon #jocelyn and the x-men

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hermitlibrarian · 6 years ago

Text

Heroes are often the main star of the book, the person we’re following throughout the literary journey. While that’s all well and good, there’s someone else to consider: the villain, whether that’s an actual villain, an anti-hero, or a so-called villain when the hero is not quite who they seem to be, despite what the narrative would tell us.

This week’s TTT topic is about our favorite villains and I’m expanding that a wee bit to also include anti-heroes and ambiguous characters that might not quite fit the mold of villain but also aren’t heroes in the traditional sense.

I’ll also be abbreviating my list a bit, so please forgive the shortness.

Top Ten Tuesday is a weekly meme hosted by The Artsy Reader Girl. Upcoming topics and past TTT topics can be found here.

AIDAN (The Illuminae Files)

While AIDAN might be viewed as a villain in Illuminae due to some of the actions it takes, I’d hesitate to call AIDAN an out and out villain. As the book and series progresses, that line blurs and AIDAN’s evolution make it hard to distinguish just what or who AIDAN is. I loved reading AIDAN’s thought processes and look forward to rereading this series at some point so I can revisit this fascinating character.

Kaz Brekker (Six of Crows duology)

Kaz would be the first person to tell you that he’s no hero. An anti-hero, perhaps? Whatever he is, his machinations were so much fun to watch unfold in the Six of Crows duology.

Xifeng (Forest of a Thousand Lanterns, Rise of the Empress #1)

Xifeng, an East Asian inspired Evil Queen, is given an origin story in Forest of a Thousand Lanterns. Reading about her history, about the reasons she becomes who she’s destined to be, deepened her character and I’m not sure what it’s going to be like in the next book in the series. Growing up thinking there’s one version of the Evil Queen, even knowing what Xifeng did as a young woman to get to where she was at the end of this book, there’s a level of understanding that I didn’t have before. I loved finding a new history, even if the execution of the novel wasn’t my favorite.

Victor Vale (Vicious, Villains #1)

Is Victor a villain? That depends on who you ask, I think. Eli would certainly think so. Of course, others would claim that Eli’s a villain, especially considering his actions in Vicious. Victor does some things that are questionable, that’s for sure. If we’re talking a sliding scale, he’s probably on the slippery slope toward Villainy and I think I’m okay with that because it’s a weird kind of justifiable villainy. Does that make sense? *lol*

Joe Goldberg (You, You #1)

Oh yeah, Joe’s a villain through and through. A no questions to be had about it bad guy. Stalker, murderer, etc. He probably wouldn’t agree with that assessment, but that’s not the point. The interesting thing about the book is that it’s told from his perspective and because of that method, and because of the genuine horribleness of the other people we come into contact with, the reader actually comes to sympathize with Joe. It was such a conflicting book to read, knowing that the narrator was such a terrible person at his core, but also agreeing with some of his points of view. The author was very skilled at her craft in this instance.

All media (pictures, quotes, etc.) belong to the respective owners and are used here solely for the purpose of review and commentary.

Top Ten Tuesday: Villains Heroes are often the main star of the book, the person we're following throughout the literary journey.

#toptentuesday

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tongpoo · 7 years ago

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Ten Favorite Albums of 2017

10. Choker - Peak

Thank God I read Pigeons & Planes. I wouldn't have heard about Choker yet if it wasn't for them, but I would have in the next few years when he blows up. As of right now Choker just breached 2,000 followers on Twitter and my friend Pat gets more plays on SoundCloud than he does. I don't know much more about him, on Twitter his name is just "chris" and his Instagram is still MIA. But, in a way this kind of makes his music speak louder. I've gotten so used to hearing a dope track and immediately hunting down the artist's social medias in an effort to learn more about them and find what place this sound is coming from. In Choker's case, there isn't a ton of that. He hasn't actually tweeted since this album dropped, and everything before is just weird memes and 140 character jokes the internet age is so accustomed to. Choker is an artist who leaves everything they need to say in their art rather than effortlessly giving it to the world via iPhone thumb taps. Because of this, Peak benefits from having not much else to place it within context of and shines as a stand alone.

Rather than attacking the classic and conventional ideology of songwriting, Choker's Peak is full of "Is this the hook? Wait it's a verse. But when does the hook come back in?" type moments. It relies more on nature and what feels right, rather than structure and repetition. This isn't a bad thing at all, and is pretty hard to accomplish without sounding messy. Names like Frank Ocean, Sufjan Stevens, Björk all take similar approaches to their sound, and you're definitely in good company if mentioned in the same thought as them. Choker's lyricism isn't always literal and mostly seems is used to paint a mood. Lines like "I see in Portra 400 // Mazzy Star pour out the function" giving both a visual and auditory representation of where he at. El Dorado, is an entire song about getting caught stealing a car and all the romantic memories shared within that car. Choker takes this simple plot and expands it into a four minute masterpiece of shimmering guitars, subtle 808s, and layers of vocals. His quick steps from singing to rapping are hard to keep tabs on, with this song having a four bar rap verse before switching back to singing. Hats aren't even introduced until the last 30 seconds. It's just this constant picking up and dropping Choker performs so easily that leaves you hungry for more of what was and anticipating what's to come.

Produced and written entirely by Choker, the instrumentals and vocals are gold. On Sunflower, Choker introduces with a shoegaze-esque minimal track, cuts that with distortion and a vocal sample and drops it into this portion of the song that feels very Weeknd-y, with harmonization, hi hats, and synths you'd find on the boss level of a PS2 game. After 30 seconds of that, he begins yelling trap adlibs across this pretty beat that consists of only a rhodes and lo-fi percussion. There's just no telling what could happen next, but it all fits so perfectly together. The entire album is like your life flashing before your eyes, or thinking back on good memories.

Favorite Tracks: Moksha, El Dorado, Sunflower

9. Sampha - Process

It's a slim amount of vocalists who pack as much emotion into their voice as Sampha Sisay. Even without the context and knowledge of Sampha's struggles, you'd still connect with the fear and pain behind his lyrics. But on Process, Sampha opens up more about the caretaking and loss of his mother to cancer, becoming distant with his brother, and discovering a painful and suspicious lump in his throat.

What's that meme where it's like a picture of two things and the caption is "Name a more iconic duo"? Anyway, the only acceptable version of that meme is Sampha and his keyboard. Many moments throughout this album are simply just Sampha and a piano or synth, and it never feels lacking. But with the same amount of ease he runs through a minimal track; he can embrace maximalist production as well. Process sort of carries an all or nothing mentality, with tracks that are bare bones and others oozing boundless energy. I was lucky enough to catch Sampha at Lollapalooza (my favorite performance of the weekend, by the way), and in one moment he was jumping around like a trap artist to Blood On Me then performing tear-worthy vocals to (No One Knows Me) Like The Piano. The fashion of Process is very best of both worlds, and Sampha has this down to a tee. All of this topped with A+ songwriting and production, there aren't many reasons to be anti-Process.

Within a brief 40 minutes, Sampha doesn’t waste a second trekking through his journey. Kind of random, but Sampha is one of two people to have worked with Kanye West, Drake, and Frank Ocean. The only other person is Jay Z. I feel like that just warrants some sort of legendary artistry validity, if Process itself hadn't already.

If you enjoy this album you should really read his FADER cover story. One of my favorite ever and includes an acoustic version of Plastic 100°C.

Favorite Tracks: Kora Sings, (No One Knows Me) Like the Piano, What Shouldn’t I Be?

8. Cosmo Pyke - Just Cosmo

Yeah, the album is only five tracks and there's nothing super groundbreaking or innovative, but for some reason I just love it. It's not even like a rare sound that's explored or something experimental or whatever. It's just a bunch of super fun and catchy tunes and sometimes that's all you really want from music. I haven't deep dived into the lyrics for an intricate emotional and metaphoric tale, and I really doubt there's much like that in here. Sometimes all you want from music is for it to sonically feel right and Just Cosmo does all of that for me.

Cosmo's sound radiates a youthful aura very specific to London. He taste tests a handful of genres throughout the album, matching his guitar to that loose jangly sound very popular in today's indie rock, with drums and percussion that lean towards jazz that's dipping its toes into samba. He vibes to reggae on the bridge of Chronic Sunshine, and builds and drops speeds on Wish You Were Gone. All the tracks on Just Cosmo nearly touch or exceed the five minute mark, letting Cosmo fully exercise all thoughts he has upon a song without letting the listener become overwhelmed. The closer, Great Dane, even clocks up to 8 minutes without feeling like too much to bear. Stress and other grim thoughts are the last thing on your mind while listening to Just Cosmo, because it's the soundtrack to a Sunday bike ride to get ice cream with your friends. It's the album you put on during the 2PM pool party. It's music you couldn't possibly be upset to.

There's not a ton to be said about an album that is very inexplicably awesome to me. The album doesn't do the undoable or break through walls or anything, but the sound it does have is very genuine and true. It sounds just like an album a 2017 kid from Peckham would make who has an interest in synths, guitars, and great music.

Favorite Tracks: Wish You Were Gone, Chronic Sunshine, Great Dane

7. Thundercat - Drunk

Thundercat doesn't play the bass, the bass plays Thundercat. The licks are so stank face worthy, and every riff turns you into a bobblehead. On every song you're faced with infectious basslines accompanied with melodic falsettos all courtesy of one man. The man behind Thundercat, real name Stephen Bruner, appears as a writer and producer on all tracks with help from just a few select others. He's one of those guys that you've heard, but didn't know you were listening to. Bruner's worked with contemporary greats such as Flying Lotus, Childish Gambino, Mac Miller, N*E*R*D, and most notably had a massive hand in Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly, supplying background vocals and tasteful E-bass front to back of that project. Being such a monumental figure in one of the decade's greatest albums, it makes total sense that his first album back since that hot run is spectacular as it is.

Bruner's depressive realistic, yet humorous, outlook on things is expressed all across Drunk. I remember reading or seeing in an interview that he titled the album "Drunk" because its often how he feels going about life. Being confused by existence and his nihilistic treatment of things. A lot of the tracks on the album are about very humdrum experiences in the day to day. One of Bruner's more fleshed out songs on Drunk is A Fan's Mail (Tron Song II) which is just all about how cool he thinks it would be to become a cat. Another, Tokyo, describing the many activities he takes part of while spending time in Japan's capital city. With all these songs about mundane pasttimes and average thoughts, the album lyrically feels like a very transparent look into Bruner's mind. While all of this is taking place, behind it all is some of the year's greatest production. With Bruner ripping enchanting bass riffs and fills throughout the entirety of the project, it sounds like he's exorcising the thing of demons at points. Drunk is appropriately sprinkled with funky synths and keys, with even Michael McDonald playing keys on Show You The Way, a track he also sings on with Kenny Loggins. Other producers involved are legendary EDM producer and DJ Flying Lotus appearing on more than half the tracks and Sounwave of TDE fame.

I actually almost made my senior quote ""I Am Crazy" -Thundercat" after the track on this album, where in the 25 second song he begins feeling nostalgic, then questions his memory thinking maybe things weren't as great as they appear to be in his faded mind. Myself, and I'm guessing most other people, often feel this way about a lot of things. It's a reminder that if you're feeling down in the now, wishing you were back in the good old days is pretty useless because not only is that impossible, chances are things were just as crummy as they were back then as well. It's a sentiment that helps being positive today which I just think is a valuable thought to keep in your head.

Favorite Tracks: Bus In These Streets, A Fan’s Mail (Tron Song II), The Turn Down

6. Rostam - Half-Light

After announcing his departure from Vampire Weekend, Rostam Batmanglij wasted no time on getting back to work. After a few collaborations with modern-day heavyweights Frank Ocean, Solange, and Haim, the multi-instrumentalist released his debut album Half-Light. Slim of features and help on production, this is a body of songs Rostam can rightfully call his own.

Sonically, the album rings all whistles and dings all bells. Hopping from a very acoustic I Will See You Again, to a very left-field Hold You, which is doused in hip-hop percussion and vocal effects that meet each other somewhere between James Blake and Pollari. I'd be interested in hearing a full-blown rap production from Rostam, as at some points throughout the album the thought is definitely teased but is never actually blossomed. From all aspects as a songwriter, Rostam's sound is hard to translate into words. It's certainly a separation from his work with Vampire Weekend, but not too distant of a cousin to render it completely unfamiliar. On Rudy, he emulates third-wave ska, then throws in this beautiful crash of horns for the breakdown. At first, the way each song is formatted seems so aimless and free flowing, but after repeated listens this is clearly an intentional and precisely made decision by Rostam. His voice,absent from Vampire Weekend songs, sounds built just for his production. As a songwriter, he does not lack at all, with songs like Bike Dream and When that could be read as poems.

Although initially saddened by Vampire Weekend losing such an integral member, I am ecstatic about this album. Time and time again Rostam has proved himself and I'm glad this album serves as a landmark of his accomplishments. One of my favorite albums of the year, with the title track especially being one of my favorite songs of the year.

Favorite Tracks: Half-Light, Rudy, Warning Intruders

5. Tyler, The Creator - Flower Boy

Tyler, The Creator changed my life. I would be lying if I said the way I lead my life is not somewhat thanks to this man whom I’ve never actually met. I spent most of the end of middle school and beginning of high school citing this guy as my religion and treating his albums as divine and sacred objects. Obviously, I'm still a massive fan and while my level of stan-dom is not quite at the level of "maniacal fan girl", I was still ridiculously excited for this album. Having spent days sunrise to sundown with Bastard, Goblin, Wolf, and Cherry Bomb in rotation, it's pretty clear that this is the album Tyler had always wanted to make. Even in 2009 there were neo soul 7th and 9th chords snuck into his raps about violent crimes. This guy always wanted to make a full blown jazz or pop album but really just lacked the technical ability and resources to do so. Finally, on Flower Boy, the creator finally fulfills the prophecy.

I don't think anyone has been able to pair booming and explosive percussion with breezy and swaying guitars as sophisticated as Tyler can. The drums hitting in Where This Flower Blooms after 45 seconds of strings, piano, and Frank Ocean's oh so sexy voice, is one of the hardest moments of the year. This contrast shows up a lot throughout the album. See You Again is led by these angelic harmonies by shared between Tyler and frequent collaborator Kali Uchis, and then you're just dropped off into this fiery abyss of 808s and laser gun-esque synths. One of my favorite tracks on the album is Boredom, which is 5 minutes of chilling by the pool relaxation. Immediately after that song you're slammed by production that is just so unnecessarily hype on I Ain't Got Time. This juxtaposition is so hard to perfect but so damn sweet once done correctly.

There's nothing wrong with Tyler's leathery voice smeared on top of his phat beats, but majority of my appreciation for him and this album specifically is for his production. Which is why I've always been a huge fan and never minded when Tyler enlisted features all over the place. The only place the names Rex Orange County, Jaden Smith, and Roy Ayers make sense together is when you're talking about a Tyler The Creator tracklist. He makes sure everyone brings their A game as well, as I've never really heard a phoned in verse or performance from anyone on a Tyler song. On Flower Boy, the places where Tyler does rap or sing, it never feels like its just to make the song longer as it did occasionally on previous works. Bar by bar Tyler is saying something with meaning which I think is something he's improved on a lot since Wolf and Cherry Bomb especially. All songs on Flower Boy fit a theme or concept and together those songs as an album are even better.

If I wasn't wearing such rose tinted goggles while looking back at them, I'd probably say this is Tyler, The Creator's best album. Even with them on its a pretty close race. This album is just so good and so Tyler with the dumb evilness of Who Dat Boy to the glossy and shiny groove of 911. Flower Boy is a soundtrack to make memories to and even with the inexcusable amount of times I've heard this guy's barking deep voice I don't think I'll ever want to hit skip on a track of his.

Favorite Tracks: Pothole, Boredom, 911 / Mr. Lonely

4. Jay-Z - 4:44

It's hard not to crack a smile when Jay-Z raps about his money. Sure you hear Young Thug or 21 Savage rap about dropping bands at the club, but with Shawn Carter's net worth nearing the ten figure mark, there aren't really any other rappers who are on his level. 4:44 is bedazzled with all sorts of ridiculous flexes. Verse two of The Story of O.J. specifically emphasizes this with him spitting "Fuck livin' rich and dyin' broke // I bought some artwork for one million // Two years later, that shit worth two million // Few years later, that shit worth eight million // I can't wait to give this shit to my children". Stunting about investing is next level, and it's hard to take any other rapper seriously regarding money knowing Jay Z could buy their life without hesitation.

I think that's where a lot of the beauty lies in 4:44. Jay-Z approaches all subjects on this album with such intimacy and speaks in a manner no one else really can. He relays nostalgia from growing up in the Marcy houses so effortlessly, and touches on struggling with infidelity on the truly moving title track. If haven't seen his Saturday Night Live performance of this track, it's clear this song holds so much weight to him.

The production on 4:44 is seriously masterful. No I.D. absolutely snaps, track after track. As an aspiring producer I seriously reference this album as my bible occasionally. The sample flip of Stevie Wonder on Smile is downright insane, accompanied with one of Jay-Z's best verses ever on the final marathon of lyrics chalks up the song as a highlight of the album. No I.D.'s work on Bam is worthy of note too, taking Sister Nancy's Bam Bam (which you've probably heard flipped in Kanye West's Famous or Lauryn Hill's Lost Ones) and transforms it into this reggaeton banger. And I can't make a write up for this album without showing praise to Marcy Me, which I regard as just a really perfect rap song. It just embodies everything I love about rap music; Jay Z's infectious flows, heartfelt delivery, clever wordplay, and a beat I could loop endlessly. Assistance from The-Dream on the outro of this track just makes this song transcend. This song, and overall 4:44, are the music I look forward to listening to throughout my life.

Favorite Tracks: Smile, Bam, Marcy Me

3. King Krule - The OOZ

Easily whisking from elements of punk, to jazz, then hip-hop, King Krule's distinct cockney accent paired with his loose guitar tones becomes hard to pin to a genre. The OOZ is a very specific collection of sounds that could not possibly belong to another. With poetics stemming from a nimble and fragile place on songs like Slush Puppy or Czech One, to delivery so rude and brash on songs like Half Man Half Shark and Emergency Blimp, King Krule displays all recesses of emotion on his third studio album.

You'll rage and then you'll cry to some of the most beautiful noises you've ever heard with this album. Although King Krule's slurred delivery is occasionally hard to make up, the feeling is easily translated from the wide array of instrumentation used on The OOZ. King Krule has no issue with incorporating sounds not typically associated with each other. On the lead single Dum Surfer, a saxophone and electric guitar share a solo. There are disorienting and whirring synths appearing throughout the entirety of the project, all along other worldly instruments such as vibraphones, marimbas, and bongos.

The album lyrically is cryptic and disassociative. In Lonely Blue the verses act as chapters of a failed relationship and the agony both characters are met with. The language King Krule uses to detail this narrative is often tough to decipher yet so fitting, which sparks imagery I've really only ever felt with a slim number of great artists. On A Slide In (New Drugs), the protagonist is sickly self-described as someone with bleached skin and bleeding gums. The pictures painted with these words are usually bleak, cold, and occasionally dystopian.

Clocking in at an hour and six minutes, every single song hits for me and nothing feels like filler. The closer is gorgeous and the album couldn't complete in a more perfect way. Being so cohesive its hard not to let the rest of the project ring out once you start playing a song that's mid tracklist. It's just one of those albums you'd have a hard time disputing someone who thinks is a perfect album because of its pure artistic ambition and execution. The OOZ is one of my favorite projects of the year, and hasn't left my rotation since the day it came out.

Favorite Tracks: Slush Puppy, Emergency Blimp, Vidual

2. IGLOOGHOST - Neō Wax Bloom

If Pale Eyes is like the boarding and lift of a roller coaster, then the rest of the 38 minutes in the album is a non-stop, accelerating, descension. I don't even want to begin to think about how this album was made, it's filled to the brim with eclectic but meticulously chosen sounds. Neō Wax Bloom is like straight auditory adrenaline, with each track being a different flavor of a rush.

This album is fucking nuts. I already had a lot to say about it in my New Music Monday review of it, but at the time I certainly could not have digested how spectacular Neō Wax Bloom is. It's seriously a portal into another realm or dimension, I've truly never heard anything like this album before. When I heard the saxophone layered on top of the gigantically paced Super Ink Burst for the first time, I knew this was one of the best albums of the year. And I was only a few minutes into the album. The album doesn't doesn't decrease in quality at all from the already majestic opening and I think White Gum is the most impressive technical achievement in sound of 2017. That song makes me feel like I just mainlined the cocaine from Kate Moss's personal stash and I'm ready to ride an elephant into warfare. The programming involved in IGLOOGHOST's debut album is literally insane, because I actually don't think you could be mentally right in the head to accomplish what is done here. There are essentially no loops throughout the entire album with a new layer or interval being inaugurated every bar.

I referenced it in my review, but no one describes the album better than its producer himself. "MY FIRST ALBUM ‘NEŌ WAX BLOOM’ IS OUT NOW! A MULTICOLOR HYPERSPEED OPERA ABOUT LITTLE GLOWING BEINGS MADE OF GUM." the self-proclaimed "11YR OL MALE BOY" announces via Twitter. Neō Wax Bloom is one of the few times I've experienced an artist build a world with their music, with the album being its soundtrack. I really, really, really recommend you listen to this album because the first listen is the closest you can get to seeing a new color or leaving this universe.

Favorite Tracks: Super Ink Burst, White Gum, Infinite Mint

1. BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION Trilogy

When I look back at 2017, it'll be hard to not be reminded of BROCKHAMPTON. In March, I saw Kevin Abstract live on his solo tour for American Boyfriend the same day he dropped the Runner short film. In May they took over the internet by dropping a single every week for five weeks building anticipation for their debut album SATURATION. In June it dropped, with worldwide acclaim leaving everyone wondering who gave these boys are. In July I binge watched all the episodes of American Boyband which documented Kevin's tour. In August they ruled again with five more singles and another album. In September I saw them live in one of the best concerts I've ever been to (catch me in the green hoodie at about 2:42). In December they ended their wild streak by dropping the closer to the SATURATION era, SATURATION III.

I know it's kinda cheating including all three as one, but I didn't really feel like writing a Top 10 with 30% of the albums being by BROCKHAMPTON. I've never done it, but if listened to back to back to back I think the trilogy would equate greater than the sum of its parts. It's held together thematically by the SKITs, SCENEs, and CINEMAs, and while all members of the group grow and progress, they still hold onto that SATURATION sound they came out with in June. Most of that SATURATION sound is thanks to the group's producers, Romil Hemnani and Q3 (Jabari Manwa & Kiko Merley), with Romil handling production on almost every single song. Listening to SATURATION I then SATURATION III, it's so obvious there's a gap between the two, but it's still so obviously BROCKHAMPTON it's incredible one could grow so much yet manage to not stray at all. This development isn't limited to the producers, but with the vocalists, specifically Matt Champion, JOBA, and Merlyn Wood stepping it up as well.

"I got pipe dreams of crack rocks and stripper poles." would be a hell of an opening line for a book that won the Coretta Scott King award. But it's the first thing heard on this trilogy, spat by Ameer's grizzly voice over Romil's intimidating basslines. The run of tracks after that is ridiculous. STAR, featuring production only from Jabari Manwa, is just stupid phat. Over those thick, booming grooves, Dom, Ameer, and Kevin all spit 16s about celebrities. The weird combo of such a hard beat paired with lines so goofy yet delivered seriously is just epic. Even though SATURATION II is my least favorite of the three, it'd still be one of my favorite albums of the year if just released by itself. The opening verse from Kevin on GUMMY kinda sets the table for the entire album. Matt's hyperspeed flow on JELLO is so unreal I actually thought they just sped it up until I experienced it live. You could throw SWEET on loop forever and never get sick of it. After all this I didn't know if BROCKHAMPTON had it in them again for a third record, but they really came through the hardest with the SATURATION finale. Romil's production demolished all expectations I had for SATURATION III, with beats sounding like they should have came from a hip-hop veteran, rather than a 22-year-old. JOHNNY, BLEACH, SISTER, RENTAL, are really perfect and are some of the best tracks the boyband has ever put out.

A lot of personal appeal to BROCKHAMPTON for me is that list of reasons you can't accomplish what BROCKHAMPTON is doing is short. I own pretty much the same camera all their videos are shot on, and I've stumbled upon random drumkits online that have sounds Romil has used. This DIY approach to music is so inspiring and having their product result in all sorts of praise is something really cool. I've met all the members of the boyband and they're just weird awkward kids who got to tour the nation cuz of their art. These are guys I could have went to High School with and I wouldn't have been surprised. But what is surprising is the music, films, clothing, and whatever else these guys decide to get into next. I'd get BROCKHAMPTON health insurance if it was offered. Time after time this collective has brought it, and I don't doubt that next year I'll be talking just as high about TEAM EFFORT as I do about SATURATION.

Favorite Tracks: STAR, JUNKY, BLEACH

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northshorehealthandfitness · 7 years ago

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[caption id="attachment_61465" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Pond5[/caption] Top trainers may have ripped abs, know the name of every muscle in the body, and how to whip up an amazing circuit for the booty you want. But they were once newbies in the weight room, too. That’s why we asked nine top trainers to dish on the biggest blunders they made when they were fresh on the mats, plus the most common missteps they see from others. Because sure, it’d be great if setting up a weight machine made complete sense (what does this knob do?), and you weren’t constantly distracted by this cast of characters, but that’s not always the case for beginners. And that’s OK! We bet you can relate to the fears and face-palm moments below. Even better, you’ll get top-notch insights on how you can learn from them. Get ready to feel more confident in the weight room, starting now. RELATED: 7 Trainer Quotes That Will Instantly Boost Confidence

Weight Room Confidential: What No One Told Me Starting Out

1. “I had no clue how to set anything up.”

“When I first started, one of the common mistakes I made — and I see other new gym-goers make now — was not knowing how to properly adjust the weight machines. I’d feel overwhelmed as I’d panic trying to adjust something, only to find that the knob wouldn’t budge or the pin was stuck in place. I’d then simply use the equipment in the position it was already in, which means it often didn’t fit my body — I’m just 5’2”! Or, I’d give up using the equipment all together. When I became a personal trainer, I’d lead free weekly equipment orientation sessions, taking groups of members around the gym. Check if your gym offers this and then take advantage of it.” —Jessica Matthews, MS, spokesperson for the American Council on Exercise, and author of Stretching to Stay Young

2. “I had zero plan.”

“I would just walk around and use machines I felt comfortable with. Or I’d work body parts I could see in the mirror. I coined this ‘Mirror Body Syndrome.’ Talk about developing an unbalanced body! Write down your workouts or follow a program. It will give you structure in your training so you remember what you did the day before and don’t over or under-train certain body parts. It will also give you results when you’re not just spinning your wheels walking around aimlessly.” —Ashley Borden, master trainer, celebrity fitness and lifestyle consultant RELATED: The 15 Most Underrated Exercises, According to Trainers [caption id="attachment_61463" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Twenty20[/caption]

3. “I went too hard.”

“When I started out, I took on way too much too soon. I worked out too long, cut too many calories, and I got myself so sore that I wouldn’t get back to the gym consistently. Learn from my experience and take on a smaller goal so you can be consistent about it. For instance, go to the gym for 30 minutes and work one or two body parts along with basic cardio. Once you have that consistency, you can add more volume and frequency.” —Jen Widerstrom, fitness expert, costar of Daily Blast Live, and author of Diet Right For Your Personality Type (Check out her 15-Minute Workouts on Daily Burn!)

4. “I cared what other people thought.”

“When I first started going to the gym, I felt like everyone’s eyes were zeroed in on me! After a while, I realized that it was just my own self-consciousness making me feel that way. When my new clients tell me that they’re worried about other gym-goers staring at them and they don’t want to embarrass themselves, I tell them it’s a silly worry. Don’t let that be the reason you skip the gym. From my years of experience, I can confidently say the only reason someone is looking at you at the gym is either because they’re checking out your cute self or trying to see what exercises you’re doing so they can do them, too.” —Jess Davis, owner of Boost! Fitness in Dallas, Texas RELATED: 25 Workout Memes We Can Totally Relate To

5. “I’d make sure everyone knew proper gym etiquette.”

“Trying to remember everything I did wrong starting out is quite hard. It’s still a journey and I’m always learning new things. But, one thing I see all the time is poor gym etiquette. I hate trying to track down equipment that’s not returned or laying down on a wet mat. Ew! Use those spray bottles, rags, and wet wipes. I tell everyone: be a sweetie, wipe the seatie.” —Erin Oprea, celebrity personal trainer and author of The 4 x 4 Diet (Seriously, check out this complete list of trainers' biggest pet peeves.)

6. “I winged it on the rower.”

“We’ve had several people leave their shoe in the cradle of a rower during a circuit because they are having a hard time getting their foot out. The simple fix is to loosen the strap and slide your foot up and out! Another issue is pulling the handle up to your neck so it looks like you’ll chop your head off. Pull the rower handle to the bottom of your chest. And finally, before I took a rowing certification course, I used to lean too far back at the end of the movement. I’d lean to three o’clock, but the correct way is leaning back to one o’clock. Now, I always tell students to do this, since it’s a mistake I so often see.” —Daury Dross, trainer at The Fhitting Room in New York City (For more rowing machine tips, head here.) [caption id="attachment_61462" align="alignnone" width="620"] Photo: Twenty20[/caption]

7. “I could have asked for help sooner.”

“Whether it’s out of being nervous, shy or stubborn, it’s so common to watch people in the gym not ask for help when they need it. When I was starting, I quickly learned to ask coaches for specific training advice. After all, as a newbie, the fastest way to get good at something is to learn from other people who are good at it. The trainers are more than happy to help. As a trainer, now I know that we geek out about this stuff and want to lend a helping hand. That said, I think it’s uncool to offer unsolicited advice. So if you’d like help, you’ve gotta ask for it.” —Rob Sulaver, founding trainer of Rumble Boxing in New York City RELATED: The 20 Worst People in the Gym, According to Trainers

8. “I’d encourage no half-a**ed moves.”

“While I’ve had my share of mistakes, one of the biggest things I see other people doing in the gym is doing a [partial range] exercise, or [unintentionally] not going through their full range of motion. For instance, in a bicep curl, it’s common for someone to lower the weight only halfway, rather than extend their arm all the way down. In a push-up, they’ll go down halfway and then come back up. Getting the full range of motion is important in recruiting the proper muscles and getting stronger.” —Noam Tamir, CSCS, founder of TS Fitness in New York City

9. “I’d make sure everyone eats.”

“I see it all the time, people start a workout program and also try to restrict calories. This backfires. If you aren’t giving your body enough fuel to work with, you won’t be able to sustain a good workout. Eating enough is also important for muscle growth, strength and recovery. If you aren’t eating enough, you’re at a much higher risk for injury in the weight room.” —Alissa Rumsey MS, RD, CSCS, Founder of Alissa Rumsey Nutrition and Wellness Read More 7 HIIT Mistakes You're Probably Making 19 Reasons to Work Out (Beyond the Perfect Body) 6 Mistakes You're Probably Making with the Barbell

The post What No One Tells You Before Entering the Weight Room appeared first on Life by Daily Burn.

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