#turns out this was way easier than doing this for songs i claim myself

[klaissance]

the circle of this game came back around and I got tagged by @future-mr-red-lion (<3) on this account instead of my main so we're doing SONGS THAT MAKE ME THINK OF KLANCE for each letter of my illegible url here we go:

k - kamikaze by walk the moon

l - lacy by olivia rodrigo (tell me this isn't fem!klance lance pov you CAN'T)

a - all the pretty girls by fun (LOOK AT THIS POST by @heynhay SHE'S SO CORRECT)

i - into you by ariana grande (a little bit dangerous//but baby that's how i want it....)

s - sidekick by walk the moon (sorry but they were so peak accidentally writing klance music to me and i can't unhear it)

s - suburban legends by taylor swift (I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I always knew it that my life would be ruined) (bonus pick: style also by t swizzle)

a - alone together by fall out boy

n - national anthem by lana del rey (red white blue is in the sky//summer's in the air and baby heaven's in your eyes)

c - chasing fire by lauv

e - e.t. by katy perry (you guys cant tell me lance doesnt claim this as his anthem once he gets with keith and remembers that hes part galra like this is so funny to me)

enjoy that. tagging: everyone and also no one bc I did tags already but feel free to do this and say I told you to; I'll gladly take the fall

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Bad PR-Jordan Li Fic

A/N: I saw someone post about needing a fic about Jordan being in a relationship where they're "unmarketable" and haven't been able to get the idea out of my head since. This is written with a black reader in mind. I also have a sequel in mind if anyone wants it.

Word Count: 3739

Warnings: Some sensuality and swearing.

I don't claim to own any characters or property from Gen V or The Boys. All credit to the original gif creators.

  Silence was something that I always thought I longed for. Every day for the past twenty years, there was noise, whether it was someone (usually multiple) talking, music blasting, cars going by, or screaming. By now, I thought I would have learned how to tune it out and focus on what was most important: save the little kids from a burning school, study as hard as I could to get into GOD U, and manipulate social media algorithms so much it would make tech experts’ heads spin.

   But, I hadn’t. Then, I thought I got used to the noise, the demands to take pictures with total strangers, the background noise of a song I was doing a TikTok challenge to, Liza, my Vought-assigned PR rep, and my parents insisting on what I should wear, and the constant buzzing in the back of my head that my ability caused. However, as I laid on Jordan’s bed, listening to them ramble about Brink, I didn’t mind the noise so much.

  “I mean, he’s kind of a mad genius but for good,” Jordan stated. Then, they turned to me with a sheepish smile on their face. “Sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

  I shook my head. “No, no, it’s alright. Brink’s brilliant and it’s amazing that you’re his mentee.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Besides, you’re pretty cute when you’re excited.”

  Jordan rolled their eyes and slowly made their way towards me, stopping right at the foot of their bed. “Only when I’m excited?”

  “Shut up, you know you always look good,” I teased.

   They playfully flipped their hair and batted their eyes. “Well, we can’t all have a glam squad on call so I appreciate it.”

   I scoffed, rose to my knees, and playfully pushed their shoulder only for them to switch to their masculine form and grab my hand. “That’s not fair and I didn’t even ask for them, my parents and Liza insisted on it when I got in.”

   Jordan nodded but I could tell they weren’t listening since their eyes were on my lips. “I don’t feel like talking anymore.”

   Something about their deeper masculine voice sent tingles down my spine and made my stomach feel fuzzy. Then again, they easily caused the same effect in both forms. My breath caught in my throat as soon as our lips touched, and I could feel my heart rate pick up. I tried to relax in their gentle but firm grip as I wrapped my hands around their neck, but it was easier said than done.

   Suddenly, my back was against their bed and the kissing got more fervent. Jordan slipped their tongue down my throat and trailed one of their hands down my leg. I shivered as they pulled my leg up around their hip and pressed further into me.

   “I should’ve known this is what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out,” I breathed after pulling away for a second.

   “I had good intentions but you kept screwing me with your eyes,” Jordan huffed back.

   “No, I---” Jordan cut me off, switching to their feminine form and kissing my jaw, working their way down my neck. “Not…fair.”

   One of their hands slowly started trailing up under my (their) sweatshirt and I tried to stifle my giggles at the soft touch. After a couple of seconds, I couldn’t help but start giggling and covered my face when Jordan paused their actions and looked up at me.

   “Still ticklish?” Jordan teased.

   “Shut up, it’s your fault since they're your hands,” I groaned through another laugh.

   Jordan smirked at me and ran their hands down my waist, gently tapping my sides, causing more laughter on my end. I tried to reach for their hands to stop them but they were too good at dodging me. At some point during my laughter, my phone started ringing.

    “Ignore it,” Jordan whined as they pressed their head against my stomach, their big brown eyes somehow looking bigger and browner than usual.

   “I can’t,” I whined back as I pulled away from them and grabbed my phone from my desk. “It’s Liza, I have to answer.”

    Jordan rolled their eyes. “That bitch has the worst timing.”

   “She might not be able to help it.” I quickly answered the phone. “Hey, Liza.”

   “Y/N, I’m on campus and we need to talk ASAP. Meet me outside the Crimefighting building in five,” Liza rattled off.

   “Oh, sure, what’s it about?” I asked.

   “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

   She clicked off and I turned to Jordan, who was much less than pleased.

  “Let me guess, you have to go,” they said.

   “I’m sorry, it sounded important,” I said as I started grabbing my stuff from around their room. “I’ll try to make it quick.”

   “No, don’t worry about it.” They pushed themselves off the bed and stood in front of me, gently grabbing my hands in theirs. “It’s your career and I’m proud of you. I knew what I was getting into when the Cyclone became my girlfriend.”

    I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. But I appreciate you and I will show you as much later.” I quickly kissed them and grabbed my shoes. Just as I was about to leave, I paused at something in their closet. “Is that my jacket?”

   Jordan shook their head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

   I snatched the item from the closet and held it out. “Jordan, you’re going to try to convince me that you’re into vintage Yves Saint Laurent?”

       “Your taste rubbed off on me,” they said with a shrug.

       “I’m flattered.” I put it back in their closet.  

        “By the way, do you know where my black hoodie went?”

       “See you later!”

        About four and a half minutes later, I was sitting at an outdoor table with Liza and my parents. Despite the summer heat, Liza was wearing a navy skirt suit, and her graying black hair was tied into a severe bun on the top of her head. She was typing on two different phones and her laptop simultaneously, deep blue eyes never staying on anything too long. My mom, who sat on my right, smiled kindly.

        “So, Y/N, how does it feel to be a junior?” she asked.

        “Great, Mom. I thought I told you and Dad that you didn’t have to hover this much since I am a junior now,” I said, glancing at my dad who was on my other side.

        “We’re not hovering, it’s been two days since we dropped you off,” Dad insisted. “Besides, this is about business.”

          “Wha---”

           “Oh my gosh, is that Y/N Y/L/N?” Someone squealed behind me.

          “Show time,” I sighed.

          The “someone” was actually two someones, a pair of what looked like freshmen. One was a tall, pretty brunette in a white graphic tee and matching mini skirt and the other was an equally pretty, slightly shorter brunette wearing jean shorts and Vans. The taller one held her V-Phone with a death grip.

           “Can we take a picture with you?” The taller one asked.

           “Of course.” I stood from my seat and made my way over to them.

           “I can take it.” But before my mom could stand, Liza shot up from her seat, grabbed the phone, and ushered us closer together.

           “Okay, Y/N in the middle, Tall Girl on the left, Short One on the right,” Liza instructed, eyes never looking up from the camera.

          “It’s Ashley,” the short one said.

          “Smile!”

          I did as I was told and the girls were walking away before I could even say an obligatory, “No problem.”

            Both my parents smiled as I sat back down.

            “It’s great to see that you’re still popular after all this time,” Dad said, his eyes hidden behind his tinted sunglasses.

             “As she should be. Y/N has thirty million followers across all her social media and she does amazing in the Midwest and the South, both tough demographics for young black women,” Liza stated.

            “Thanks, Liza,” I said, mindlessly playing with the ends of my butterfly locs. “So, you mentioned you were coming but left out my parents.”

            At this, Liza finally paused from typing and looked up at me. She slowly set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top of her pale hands. My head involuntarily started shaking from side to side and Liza lifted one of her hands.

            “Let me speak first, Y/N, and then we can argue about it,” Liza stated.

            “The last time you said that, I ended up almost getting mauled by a dog during an animal shelter livestream,” I hissed.

             “Well, the dog had a serious history of trauma,” Liza insisted.

             “You didn’t inform me of that before insisting I cuddle with it for the camera!”

              “It was a learning lesson: you are fantastic under pressure.”

               I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. “So, what is this about?”

              Liza assumed her previous “Serious business” pose. “Like I was saying, you’re doing fantastic numbers. That last TikTok you and Cate did hit a hundred million views in less than twenty-four hours.”

            “The ‘Rover’ challenge wasn’t that hard,” I commented.

             “That’s amazing!” Mom practically cheered.

             “That’s my girl,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

              I smiled despite the strong sense that a “but” was coming.

             “However,” Liza continued.

              Uh oh.

             “My job is to do everything in my power to make sure everyone associates Y/N Y/L/N and Cyclone with beauty, intelligence, grace, taste, and power. So, we are a little concerned about Jordan.”

              Immediately, my shoulders tensed and I gritted my teeth. “Who exactly is ‘we’?” I glanced at my parents.

                Mom’s eyes widened and I had no idea what Dad was doing.

                “No, of course not, Sweetie, we love Jordan. They have been a fantastic influence on you,” Mom insisted.

               I could feel my face warm up about what had transpired with Jordan a few minutes ago. I doubt that would fall under “good influence”, or any time we went out with the others. 

               “And they give you a run for your money when it comes to combat. You need someone challenging like them. Plus, that Luke boy isn’t bad either,” Dad added.

               As their words sunk in, I had a strange feeling that my parents were there to lessen a Vought-sized blow. My suspicions were confirmed when Liza’s lips pressed more firmly together and she was glancing at one of her phones.

               “Are you reading a script right now?” I seethed.

               Liza’s head shot up and she shook her head. “No, no, Y/N, not at all. Just some notes.” She quickly regrouped. “I understand that you’re happy and you’re probably having some fantastic sex right now----”

               “Liza!” I interrupted, praying that the ground would open and swallow me whole.

               Suddenly, Dad’s arm was back at his side, and Mom was suddenly very captivated by a pair of seniors skateboarding past.

               “But the facts are that a bi-gender Asian supe is not marketable in the Deep South or the Midwest,” Liza said. “I am not shaming Jordan for who they are but, my job is to sustain your relatable-but-unattainable brand and not let anything get in the way of it.”

              “You’re saying my partner is a threat to my career?” I asked, my voice much hollower than I intended.

               “Potentially. Now, I have come up with a very good alternative.” Liza turned her laptop so it was facing my parents and me. On it was a picture of Andre and some clips of us on social media. “Andre Anderson tested very well. Our focus group members responded positively to the black power couple aesthetic.”

             “We’ve met him before, he’s nice,” Mom offered.

              “He’s cool and I’ve met his dad and I could see us all getting along,” Dad mentioned.

               My head was swirling with so many thoughts that I was convinced I was either going to be overwhelmed by them or find one that was coherent enough to state. My mouth settled on, “It’s the twenty-first century and you’re all telling me I have to break up with my partner because of demographics? Jordan’s an amazing supe and they’re so smart, it’s scary. They can do---will do so much good and the only thing you care about is optics?”

               Mom gently touched my arm. “Y/N, please, calm down.”

When I glanced around, I noticed that several Vought-A-Burger wrappers, a couple of cigarettes, and a few panicked squirrels and rabbits were swirling around the table. Quickly, I released the small animals and put the trash in the nearby receptacle.

              “Sorry about that,” I muttered, eyeing Liza.

               “I understand that you have strong feelings for Jordan but, think about it. With the right moves, you could be living in The Tower with the legends of your generation. Sure, you’re number three at GOD U right now, but this status can easily go away. You’ve worked your entire life to be the hero that little black girls everywhere look up to. Don’t take Cyclone away from them before she even starts,” Liza warned.

               I desperately wanted to say something snarky, but my mind was blank. The only thing I could sense was my throat tightening up and my eyes beginning to well. I brushed a loc out of my face to play it off and tried to gain my thoughts.

              “How much time do I have before I make a decision?” I asked.

              “Twenty-four hours. I’ll be looking out for your call, text, email, or video call,” Liza stated as she started to pack her things.

                My parents stood and Mom gave me one of her warm hugs and Dad pulled me to his side.

              “It will be okay, Y/N,” he whispered.

               I swallowed the giant lump in my throat to thank him and then insisted on walking them back to their car.

              A few hours later, Elle Woods was sobbing in the fanciest restaurant in California while I carefully placed my baking pan in the oven. As much as I wanted to sob, I had no time for tears, I had to think. The thinking led me to have so many circular thoughts that my head spun and I resorted to baking and watching my favorite movie.

              If Elle could solve a murder case and exonerate her client as a first-year law student, I should be able to figure out this PR mess. On the one hand, I was happier with Jordan than I’ve ever been with anyone. On the other hand, my dreams and my family’s position were hanging by a thread.

            Maybe it was better that I channeled my energy into baking cupcakes.

            I exhaled a small gust of wind to clear the bowls and utensils from the counter and place them in the dishwasher. Then, I focused on pushing multiple gusts of wind from my hands to clean the counters and wash the dishes. By the time I was done, I was exhausted and flopped on my couch to mindlessly watch the movie.

            Unfortunately, the bright and colorful backdrop of Elle’s LSAT studying montage did nothing to take my mind off my dilemma. All I could think about was Jordan’s face when I told them. Breaking up with them would be like shooting a puppy’s mom in front of the puppy and making it watch it bleed out.

               How would I tell them anyway? Hey, babe, I’m sorry I had to run out on us almost hooking up to meet with Liza and my parents. Funny story, they want me to break up with you so that I have a shot at a career and date Andre instead. See you for that morning lecture?

             Knock! Knock! Knock!

            The sound jolted me from my thoughts, and I pushed myself off the couch to answer it. “Rufus, if you try to get me into your room again, I swear to----” I cut myself off at the sight of Jordan, in their feminine form, staring back at me.

            They wore a navy sweatshirt and black sweatpants. Also, their cheeks were more flushed than usual and they smelled like their sandalwood body wash, meaning they had probably stopped by the gym recently.

             “Is Rufus bothering you again? I’ll go murder him right now,” Jordan said.

              I quickly grabbed their wrist. “No, I appreciate the thought but I’m fine, besides, I can take care of myself.”

             “I know but I can’t help but worry.”

              A strange warm, tingling sensation ran its way from the center of my chest throughout the rest of my body. I was sure that if someone listened closely enough, they would hear me buzzing.

             I stepped aside to let Jordan in and leaned against the door to close it. “So, what brings you by?”

            They wandered over to my couch, sat down, and grabbed my phone off the coffee table. “Because you haven’t been answering my texts or calls.”

             “Crap, I am so sorry, Jordan, I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

             Jordan glanced around my dorm. “I can see that.” They sniffed the air. “Legally Blonde and you’re baking, what happened at the meeting?” 

            Of course, Jordan would cut straight to the point. Usually, this kind of banter was pleasant but my stomach was in knots as Liza’s words and my parents’ expressions replayed in my mind.

           “What? I can’t bake and watch a comfort movie after a last-minute PR meeting?” I asked rhetorically, crossing the room to my desk to start organizing my textbooks.

           “Don’t try to deflect, Y/N. Tell me what happened.” Their voice was gentle but firm and I knew that they were not going to let me out of this conversation.

           So, I set Brink’s latest book down and sat across from Jordan on my tangerine accent chair. I prayed that I would find the right words to say before blurting them out. As soon as I made eye contact with them, my chest tightened.

          “Well, Liza surprised me by having my parents join us,” I started.

           Jordan raised their eyebrows. “Shit, this is serious.”

           “Uh-huh. Liza said that my numbers are doing great and I’m on track for a promising career.”

           “And?”

           I gulped. “And…she’s concerned that my personal choices might get in the way of that.”

          Jordan frowned. “Personal choices? Every college kid known to man has done illicit substances and drank alcohol underage. You’ve never been caught doing any of that anyway.”

        “You’re right but she wasn’t talking about partying; she was talking about us.”

         As soon as the bomb rolled off my tongue, I saw its impact on Jordan, from the flashing expressions of confusion and anger to the clenching of their fists. I just wanted to make it stop.

        “What?”

         As I rambled Liza’s reasoning, I could sense the hurt and animosity flowing from Jordan. Once I finished, the timer for the cupcakes went off and I jumped up to grab them. I could have cried at the momentary escape as I set them on the counter to cool.

        “She weaponized your desire to be a positive role model for other girls who look like you to screw you over,” Jordan said slowly.

           I wiped my hands on my sweatpants. “Liza’s doing her job, babe, and she’s looking at all angles, including how it could impact my goals.” I returned to my seat and folded my hands in my lap.

          “Her job is to make you choose between your relationship and your career?” Jordan asked. “That’s bullshit, this whole thing is.”

           “I know, Jordan, trust me, I know, I almost started a small tornado when she said it.”

            Jordan eyed me closely for a second. “What else did she say?”

           “What?”

           “I can tell you’re holding back, Y/N. Whatever else you have to say, it can’t be any worse.”

           They might have just jinxed that.

           “Liza thinks that Andre would be a better fit for me because a bunch of people like the idea of a black power couple.”

           Jordan had two angry responses: the first was they would attempt to tear down anything and everything around them unless consoled. The second was they would become unresponsive and deal with all their rage internally. That night, I got the second one. Their eyes were hollow and the color drained from their face. My eyes welled up as I hoped for them to start screaming, swearing, or something, but nothing happened.

         “But I don’t want to do it, Jordan, I think it’s so stupid.” I knelt in front of them, grabbed my phone from their hands, and set it aside to hold them. “My parents don’t even really agree with Liza because they know you and they think you’re awesome.”

        “What do you think?” they muttered.

        “Like I said, I think it’s stupid. We can figure something else out. Liza can spin us as the ultimate diverse power couple, huh?” I did my best to smile as widely as I could. “Come on, let’s forget about this. I made white velvet cupcakes with cream cheese filling. You can be my first taste tester once they cool.”

         Things would work out, they had to. We would figure something out and survive our junior year at GOD U with little to no incidents. Suddenly, Jordan’s hands slipped from my grasp and they shifted to their masculine form.

         “What if it doesn’t work out?” Jordan whispered.

          “What do you mean?” I replied.

         “I mean, you don’t necessarily have to be a supe but, I know that you’re scared for your parents. Your success has helped them a lot and it could destroy them if your reputation takes a hit,” they said. “And I’ve seen how little black girls light up when they see you now and how passionate you are about helping them and, I know that you’re just getting started and I don’t want to be in the way.”          “Jordan…”

         “I don’t want to hold you back anymore, Y/N,” they muttered.

         Their words sunk deep into my core like a boulder and took all my words with it. I wanted to tell them that they could never hold me back and that they made me a better super, a better person. But all I could do was watch as they stood and walked out of my dorm, taking our one and a half year relationship with them.

[lightlycareless]

spoilers for the next chapter of you know what ;)

I apologize for any... weird sentences you might find. Haven't given it the final proof reading, might add, might delete stuff. It's written in Naoya's POV btw. Enjoy the first page :>

All my life, I always sought the moment I’d be able to escape the estate; there mere thought of it was enough to excite me, I didn’t even care for what it was—As long as it got me away from my so-called home, it was enough for me.

Some would say that it was only a matter of the right motivation coming along to have me change my mind, others urged me to be more serious about my duties as heir, settle down as quickly as possible if I wanted to be what the Zen’in needed.

All suggestions I quickly shut down, called them nothing but idiotic ramblings, for who would know better of what is best for me, than myself?

…Though it wouldn’t be the first time I was proved wrong, it would be the first time I was gladly so.

I expected marriage to change my life to some degree, preferably to my convenience; not too much, but enough for me to enjoy it, unless I was to repeat what my father had endured with my mother… But when you came along and took my heart, I found out that you not only provided what I anticipated, but much more as well.

Such as my perception of the estate. When I once wished to be as far away as I could… now, all I wanted was to come back as quickly as possible: to the safe and warm presence of my wife, whom as much as I am glad that she is far away from danger, I know that is not entirely true, not when my family was still around.

But at least I don’t have to worry about curses and the like. A part of me is glad that our union plucked her out of the horrifying world of sorcery, at least this way I could protect her, alongside the company of her trusty staff that have continuously proved where their loyalties lie.

However, as happy as I am of how things turned out to be, deep down I know none of it was with her consent. In fact, it was hypocritical to claim her safety when I was the one that pushed her into most of the things that now ailed her.

I do not wish to go through the details of all the errors I’ve committed against you, but I will remember that my job to mend all my mistakes is far from over, and if it takes me to the end of the world to do so, then I will.

Until then, your absence will continue to wound me. Yes, I know—I’m the one that forced you to keep quiet in other words, even with your own family, but still, I wish there was an easier way to keep contact with you. Have the convenience to call my love every morning to know how she’s doing, what she’s going to do, or perhaps even… if she’s missed me.

…

…

…

I never knew such loneliness existed until I held you in my arms. Caged in my embrace, I soon understood what those sappy love songs spoke about, the exaggerations they proclaimed were nothing but demure comparisons—if not impossible for me, more so with the way I behaved.

[hrodvitnon]

So This Makes a [Preview For a] SIXTH SIGNALIS Fic, Do I Hear Seven?!

of course it would be fic number 6 where i give elster a third leg

---

Look up "insatiable" in a dictionary and you'll find a picture of Scout Officer Ariane Yeong and LSTR-512 engaged in such debauchery it'll make your toes curl.

Their first time had smashed to pieces a dam holding back all desires and thus unleashed a flood, sweeping them away in the currents where they ride the waves – and each other – to a wonderful world of sex.  Like with kissing it starts out awkward and clumsy, but practice makes for more refined experiences each time; learning what they like and don't like, what makes their backs arch and legs quiver.  They won't learn everything about lovemaking or even master it for a long time, but they're more than happy to just crash into each other when lust takes hold.

Elster hadn't thought it possible for Ariane to become even more beautiful, but sometimes she likes being proven wrong, especially when the love of her life practically dances around the ship with a song on her lips, glowing from a night of passion and her gorgeous red eyes having a faraway look as if she'd witnessed the gates to heaven.  The Leng-born beauty may look angelic, but the thoughts brewing in her head and desires bubbling away in her body are burning like a written sin.

As willing as she is to turn Penrose-512 into a den of vice and claim Ariane on any and all flat surfaces available, Elster worries about her self-control.  She tries to get work done and be responsible alongside her newfound duties as a lover, bless her heart she does, but she's concerned with how easy it is to ignore her work in favor of screwing with Ariane.  Worries that favoring Ariane will neglect the ship, or that favoring the ship will neglect Ariane.  Hell, right now – she's working on switching out some lights but all she's doing is looking at her hands and imagining her fingers wrapped in Ariane's warmth, exploring her inner depths, curling her digits in the way that makes her sing...

Elster has to ask herself, Is this normal?  And her Self answers, which she can't imagine is normal for anyone.  While not an expert on the subject, she's fairly certain that talking to yourself is symptomatic of insanity, and she's definitely insane for Ariane.

It's perfectly normal.  But all I'm thinking about is sex.  All I want to do is have sex.  Welcome to puberty, kid.  Be glad you don't have to deal with menstrual cramps. 

Elster shudders at the idea, having helped Ariane deal with plenty of those already.  Sometimes being a Replika has its perks.

If it makes you feel any better, I was the same way.  It... does, actually.  It makes sense.  You're young and in love.  Things will cool off after a while, but you won't get sick of it.  Any tips for focusing on getting work done without distracting myself?  Think of math.  Never liked math.  Fuckin' witchcraft.

Elster chuffs.  But it's working; she has an easier time getting this chore done without letting her mind wander.  At the same time, however...

I'm pretty sure you're a sign of my persona degradation.  Is that what we're calling it now?  What else would talking to what is clearly a personification of my Gestalt memories be called?  Using a spirit board to contact your ancestors.

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

radiophile [drabble]

March, 2020

”Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat" “We smoked the last one an hour ago"

The spark of the radio really should frighten her. After all, no radio should be turning on by itself. But Ellen Scrooge had seen stranger things than that. She fixed it with a calm look, the smoke from her third cigarette twining up in the air.

“Don’t you start.” She said quietly. “You have no right to talk.” She reached out for her glass of wine. “And don’t you start on this either. I only allow myself the one.”

The radio’s static grumbled.

“You try working in this world, at this time, and not find a way to relax.”

It jolted again. "Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy, I’ve come home."

“Oh god, not Kate Bush.” She said with a tired laugh. “I can’t stomach it. Yes, yes, I know it's you, but must you play that? Go back to Simon and Garfunkel.”

Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson.

She laughs again. It was slightly more genuine. “I thank you for that.”

Silence returned with the radio static. It shifted into a gentle lullaby.

“No. That won’t work. Thanks, but won't. So don't grumble." The static shifted again.

"I don’t sleep well anymore. Not that I ever have.” Ellen said quietly. “…I can hear Fred crying through the walls.”

Well, everybody hurts sometimes.

“The boy is only 25, though. He had his whole life ahead of him. He tries his best, but his black mood only gets worse by the day.” Ellen put her head on her hands. “He can’t help it. It-.”

Runs in the family, I come by it honestly.

“Exactly.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I’m…so tired.”

The radio fell silent.

“When you said I had to repent, I didn’t need it to be this hard, you know. It’d be easier to live on this world as wicked. At least I wouldn’t care before.”

"You made me repent for my sins. Ding dong merrily on high. I had exactly three months of fun. And then this blasted pandemic happened. And here I am. Inside again."

Every way you look at it, cha' lose.

"It might have been easier to be bad," Ellen's cigarette burned her lungs. "At least I could suffer the suffering better then. It...gnaws at me. So much pain. So much sadness. And I'm stuck inside."

Nothing there sings, Not even my lark. Larks never will, you know, When they're captive. Teach me to be more adaptive.

"Being adaptive is hardly the problem. I was too adaptive, if anything." She tilts her head at the radio. “You’ve made me care again. And now you’re gone. And I care too much. And there's nothing I can do but wait this out."

You make me like charity, instead of paying enough taxes.

“If only that was the least of this world’s problems.”

The radio went silent again. Ellen sipped at her wine and finished her cigarette. She was about to leave the living room when-.

See the pyramids along the Nile, Watch the sun rise from a tropic isle Just remember, darling, all the while-.

“You belong to me.” Ellen finished with a tired, sad smile. “The one Christmas party we went to at Jorkin’s yes. I remember it. I’ve always liked that song. The only one we ever went to. You made me dance."

See the market place in old Algiers Send me photographs and souvenirs Just remember when a dream appears You belong to me

“And I’ll be so alone without you.” Ellen replied, leaning against a chair. She’d never claimed to be a singer. She spoke the lyrics in return, voice quiet. Maybe you’ll be lonesome too-“

Fly the ocean in a silver plane See the jungle when it's wet with rain Just remember 'til you're home again You belong to me.

“You belong to me.”

She shook her head fondly. She was too tired for any more. “Goodnight, Jacob.”

The radio didn't offer any retort. But as she got into bed, Ellen heard it murmuring gently.

We'll meet again Don't know where, don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.

"Strangelove, indeed." She said out loud.

She almost thought she heard his laugh.

[kumeko]

A/N: For @earthshakerzine! Yes, I had to use that song as the title, it was a total must. And all of this was written because of the kh2 secret boss fight I had to watch on youtube because I am not nearly strong enough to do it myself.

…

…

…

…

Terra is fifteen when he realizes Eraqus is unstoppable.

It’s not like he didn’t know that before, in the way that a child idolizes a hero. Eraqus had always seemed larger than myth, a true keyblade master amongst all keyblade masters. Yet, when he had first begged Eraqus to take him on as an apprentice, Terra had assumed he’d surpass him one day.

Today isn’t that day. Terra falls back to the earth, his back and rear landing hard on the grass as he tries and fails to roll back to his feet. His keyblade clatters out of his hand.

“I thought we discussed this, Terra. You shouldn’t charge at your enemy.” Eraqus stands stock still in the center of the training grounds, his expression serious as ever as. His long black hair sways as the wind picks up, his rubs swishing as they resist the breeze.

Terra had been told his name means Earth, but there is no ground more solid than his master. Eraqus stands as immovable as a mountain, as permanent as the sun. His strength eclipses Terra’s in ways he can’t imagine. Day in and day out, they train, Terra bashing himself against his master like waves crashing a rock, and he has yet to find Eraqus eroding at all.

It’ll be a long time, if ever, before he’s even equal to his master.

“Terra?” Eraqus presses, his lips quirking slightly. One day, Terra’ will recognize this expression for what it is: his master trying to suppress a smile.

For now, though, he doesn’t know if Eraqus is disappointed or not. Groaning, Terra pulls himself off the dirt, his shoulders still sore from where Eraqus countered him. Even in training, the battles aren’t easy. “I saw an opening.”

“And that is?” Eraqus prods, ever the teacher.

“Because you were luring me in,” Terra finishes grumpily.

“Yes. You have to learn to tell the difference between a trap and a true opening.” Eraqus lowers his key, sighing softly. Disappointment rolls off his tongue. “It is the difference between life and death.”

“Easier said than done.” Terra rubs his head. He can feel a bump forming.

“And yet, it is still something you must do.” Eraqus sighs, softening. “You are young and you are impatient—two things that often go hand in hand. You must learn to temper yourself…temper your feelings.”

Perplexed, Terra stares blankly at him. “I can be patient.”

“I do not doubt that. Merely…” Eraqus cuts himself off, his expression growing dark. He eyes Terra contemplatively, as though assessing him. After a few seconds, he adds, “Tempering requires more than just patience.”

Terra frowns, not fully understanding.

“There must be balance in all things. Yin and yang. Light and dark. Good and evil. Even on a personal level, you must strive for this balance.” Eraqus’s eyes darken. “Though, you should never seek darkness to balance your light.”

Terra’s frown grew deeper, at the mistrust in his master’s voice. At the doubt. “I won’t fall to darkness.”

Eraqus repeats himself, as though he isn’t sure Terra truly understands. “Make sure you don’t. A terrible fate befalls those who lose their balance.”

Terra is fifteen when he learns of real anger, the kind that clenches your teeth and curls your fist and simmers under your skin like fire.

-x-

Terra is seventeen when Ventus decides to become a keyblade master.

Or perhaps it isn’t really decide—there is a bit of destiny behind this power. You have to accept it, true enough, but it also has to accept you. And the magic had long ago claimed Ventus for its own, back when Master Xehanort had first found the young man. Even with his memories gone and heart lost, Ventus still remembers how to summon a keyblade, still remembers how to turn his feelings into strength.

If only he had feelings. For the past few months, Ventus resembled a doll, all big eyes and blank stares and closed lips.

And now Terra has to fight the urge to rub his eyes at the guy standing across the training grounds from him. Ventus holds his keyblade gingerly, as though he’s afraid it’ll bite him. Scared as he is, he’s not the blank slate trailing after Eraqus anymore.

“I got this,” Ventus mutters, taking a deep breath. He holds it, as though trying to bottle up his nervousness. His fingers tap a morse code on the keyblade: help, help.

Terra can’t help laughing at the sight. “Nervous?”

“A little,” Ventus replies, more honestly than Terra had expected.

He softens. Has he ever been this small? This scared? Terra must have, back when Eraqus first started training him, but it’s impossible to remember now. Holding up his keyblade with a hand, he smiles encouragingly. “It won’t bite you if you try holding it a little tighter.”

“I’m not afraid of getting attacked by it,” Ventus bites out, frowning deeply. He keeps the keyblade as far away from him as he can, his arms stiff.

“Then what are you scared of?” Terra asks, pulling the answer out of him.

Luckily, it doesn’t take much pulling. Ventus isn’t much for subterfuge. It’s hard to be, when he is still learning how to feel normally, let alone to fake it. “What if I…”

“If you?” Terra prods when Ventus trails off.

Ventus bites his lip. “If I forget again.”

There isn’t much to forget. But Terra doesn’t say that—he’s many things, but he’s not cruel. And as awkward as baby duck Ventus had been, following them all around without saying anything, he doesn’t want Ventus to forget it either.

Maybe one day, they can look back to these days and laugh.

Now, though, they have to get past them. Terra shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Ventus eyes him suspiciously. “How do you know?”

“I haven’t lost my memory yet, for one.” Terra chuckles, rubbing his neck. “Or I’m not sure how I made it this far.”

“Hm.” Ventus still looks unconvinced.

“Look, if anything happens, I’ll personally make sure you get your memory back.” Terra stands straighter, taller, trying to make himself look as big and strong as possible. “But you definitely can’t get your old memory back if you don’t learn how to control your keyblade. It’ll help you unlock your heart and your memories.”

Ventus gnaws his lip again before finally nodding. He doesn’t spare any time before charging.

It’s like seeing déjà vu and Terra parries him away with as much ease as Eraqus parried him away. Ventus tumbles on the grass, eyes wide with surprise. “What was that?”

Terra is seventeen when he learns of pride, of a slick confidence buoys him up more than any balloon. He smirks. “You ran into a trap.”

-x-

Terra is nineteen when Aqua kicks his butt.

This isn’t the first time. It isn’t even the tenth time. Their spars these days are fairly equal, his strength against her nimble feet. And today, she has knocked him off his feet and onto the ground and he can feel the bruise starting to form.

“We’re tied right?” Aqua asks as she puts away her keyblade. She reaches down to help him up, her short blue hair falling forward at the motion.

“You’re ahead by one,” Terra replies evenly, grabbing her small hand. Even when they touch, he can feel the difference between them. The callouses on her fingertips compared to the one on his palm. The strength in her arm, the skill and confidence in her movements.

And it seems he isn’t the only one to see this. For all of Eraqus’s impartiality, Terra’s seen how he looks at Aqua, how his master turns to her first when teaching a new technique. And Terra’s felt how Aqua’s learned those skills, practicing them until they are second nature.

Their score is always even, but Terra has noticed how she’s always the one who’s one point ahead. How he’s always the one catching up. They are even, but for how long?

He’s scared to know the answer.

“Not for long, right?” Aqua grins as she tugs him up. Her movements are spry. He could overpower her easily, if she didn’t dance away from each attack.

“Not for long,” he agrees, pushing down the dark feeling growing within him.

“Can’t believe we’re going up for our mastery soon.” Aqua lets go his hand and stretches her arms above her. “We’ll be masters soon. Just like we promised.”

“You really think so?” he asks, unable to keep the doubt out of his voice.

“Definitely.” Aqua glances at him in surprise. “What, getting cold feet now?”

Terra bumps his shoulder against her before glaring at her. “As if.”

“Just checking.” Aqua laughs. She bumps him back lightly. “I can’t believe we’re almost there. I still can’t beat Master Eraqus.”

“We don’t have to do that for the test,” Terra points out, though he’s never beat his teacher either.

“I know, but it still feels like we should be able to.” She sighs. They stand stock still, enjoying the cool evening air, before Aqua asks, “Should we spar again? It won’t matter much if we don’t pass the test in the first place.”

She has him knocked on his feet within five minutes.

Terra is nineteen when he is overcome with envy, with a roiling feeling that threatens to swallow up everything.

-x-

Terra is twenty when his sins come home to roost. He stands on a dead planet, the wind whistling through the canyons and drowning out the sounds of nearby fights. Not that it matters, even if he could hear, he wouldn’t be listening.

He’s too busy fighting with Xehanort for control of his body.

He’s losing.

“You’re mine, boy,” Xehanort croons, almost too pleased.

Terra flinches as Xehanort whispers in his heart, reminding him of the red rage that killed his father, the purple pride that pushed Ventus away, the green envy that snarled bitter fears to Aqua. As Xehanort reminds Terra of just how he got here, of how it had been his choice all along.

And the worst part is that he isn’t wrong. For all of Xehanort’s deceptions, for all of his lies, he only amplified the darkness already within Terra. The feelings that Terra couldn’t quite overcome or entirely will away.

His body collapses first, darkness seeping into the cracks in his armour like the tide. His mind is next, and he can feel Xehanort’s fingers on it, pushing him away until he loses all sense of self.

His heart is last and it is almost too easy to succumb. Terra’s done it before, after all. This isn’t anything new.

Only, he hears a yell, hears Aqua scream and Ventus shout. They’re too far away to make out the words, but they’re here and they’re injured and Xehanort will not let them leave here alive. 

If Terra gives in.

Terra, temper yourself.

The choice before him is obvious.

“Not.” Terra grits his teeth as he forces himself back together, as he pieces back the tiny fragments of light that he knows has to be his. “Today.”

Terra is twenty when he fights the monster that is himself. He can’t forget his darkness like Eraqus, can’t master it like Aqua, can’t defy it like Ventus.

What he can do is what he’s always done, fight it back for a moment. And then another. And then another. Fight it back long enough to give his friends a chance to escape. Fight it back long enough for Xehanort’s plan to fail.

Long enough to make up for all the wrongs he’s wrought.

-x-

Terra is ???? when a shadow approaches.

He’s kneeling in the dirt, with his master’s words echoing through his head.  There must be balance.

Only, there is no balance here. Terra is on a dead planet. The wind whistles through the canyons, the only sound for miles. Time has wiped away all traces of his fight with Xehanort and hidden the keyblades scattered about from the war.

The only things left were the craters from a lost battle and Terra.

No, not quite Terra. His mind has been buried, his body snatched, his heart asleep. Only his will lingers still, stuck on this planet, unable to leave the moment of his loss. He kneels on the sand, a suit of armour masquerading as a man. Forgotten by time, there is little else to do but remember and regret.

So Terra remembers his father’s rapidly cooling blood on his hands, how heavy his body felt as it cooled, how gentle his smile was as he died.

So Terra remembers Ventus’s expression as he told Terra to kill him, his once awe-filled eyes now grim and hopeless.

So Terra remembers Aqua holding out her hand, telling him she knew he could get the mark of mastery next time, and the dark, poisonous envy that flooded his senses.

So Terra remembers the darkness that flooded him, unbalancing his light, untethering him from all he’d known and loved.

Eraqus was right. A horrible fate awaits those who lose their balance. Terra just hadn’t expected it to also await all who knew him.

The wind howls. The shadow comes closer. Terra tenses. There are only enemies in this land, only vestiges of his mistakes, and he slowly rises to his feet as three figures approach him.

“Aqua… Ven…” Terra murmurs, raising his keyblade. They aren’t here anymore, but he can still hear them calling his name.

It’ll be fine, he wants to tell them. He’s different now.

This time, he will defeat his enemy. This time, he will protect all that’s important.

[thesinglesjukebox]

RENEÉ RAPP - PRETTY GIRLS

WE'RE SO BACK THAT WE'RE EVEN DOING AMNESTY. We begin with a recommendation from Jackie...

[6.19]

Jackie Powell: Justin Tranter has a rule he uses in songwriting. He encourages the artists he works with to make their verses as truthful and detailed as possible and follow them with a chorus that's broader, saying that this will hit the more "aggressive" listeners and more attentive fans where they are, while the passive listeners connect to something much more rhythmic. It's obvious that he provided this directive to Reneé Rapp for "Pretty Girls," one of four songs they wrote together for Rapp's debut album Snow Angel. There's an intentionality in the arrangement. The instrumentation in the first verse begins with a softness, a gentle guitar plucking. Rapp begins singing in piano as well. The story that Rapp is trying to tell can't be overshadowed by any ostentatious production quirks. It is personal and much more sincere than the much more melodic "Too Well," which Rapp now loathes performing. (I get it -- there are multiple runs in each chorus.) Her tale is as old as time: how frustrating it is to be a queer woman and have other women want to experiment with you while under the influence of alcohol because they know you are queer. It isn't just relatable but embarrassing as well. But once she hits the kicker of that first verse, "You think that I'd be flattered/It's pathetic 'cause you're right," she realizes so quickly that no, she's not in the wrong. It's embarrassing, but there's no need to be bashful for too long. By the hook, she turns the story on her foil, and the bass line amps up in a way where it's also lecturing the drunk bicurious girl that frustrated her. When Rapp performs "Pretty Girls" live, she alters the completely staccato chorus. The second half of the hook, when she addresses what the "straight" girls proceed to do in the morning, is taken up the octave and performed slurred. While she might have made this change purely for an easier live performance, the more legato and louder second half of the hook asserts Rapp's frustration over the situation. The song ends without a resolution, but rather acceptance: this sucks, but it is what it is. She knows that she's not in the wrong for simultaneously enjoying and loathing the situation. "Pretty Girls" proves that Rapp has matured, and that she knows that writing a song that tells a really uncomfortable and frustrating story is much more effective than vaguely singing about how she can't get over someone. And the more Rapp tells stories that haven't often been told, the more she discovers her own character. She's not pretending to know who she is anymore, pretty girl. [9]

Alex Ostroff: My brain has mentally grouped this together with Troye Sivan's "One of Your Girls" and Hayley Kiyoko's "Curious" (which I described almost six years ago as "cheekily subvert[ing] the titular adjective that's too often deployed to undermine queer women's sexuality"). All three tracks are queer pop songs 10-to-15 years post-"I Kissed a Girl" that explore the perspectives of those who Katy Perry's narrator/protagonist used while claiming to celebrate them. Hayley's approach was pissed and snide and assertive and wounded but still confident. Troye's is entranced, enamoured, seductive, desperate, and more than a little pathetic -- but riding the high of how good lowering yourself like that can still feel. Reneé splits the difference -- mostly taking Troye's kind-of-pathetic-but-I-can't-help-myself attitude in the verses and Hayley's calling-you-out-on-your-bullshit approach in the chorus -- but her verses are still self-aware and the chorus is still deflated by the inevitability of it all. The biggest problem is that the very nature of the tone and emotion Rapp is trying to capture means that the chorus of "Pretty Girls" was never going to rival either the double-time Mustard-wave joys of "Curious" or the synth-smeared multitracker vocoder romance of "One of Your Girls." Resignation isn't the stuff of soaring pop songs, you know? [7]

Michael Hong: It differs in two ways from Troye Sivan's "One of Your Girls": 1) the object of Rapp's affection isn't just straight but taken, and 2) she understands the pathetic misery of pursuing her. Think I'd be more interested in this if her chorus wasn't just her being a wistful onlooker but felt as liberating as its instrumental. [4]

Scott Mildenhall: An entry-level investigation into heteronormativity, which is exactly what some listeners will need. That's no bad thing, but if the scenario is predictable, the song doesn't need to be. Aim higher than cliché, and you might even clear it -- the endorsement of straitjackets gives the sense that beyond a Shazam of Savage Garden, this was not the most thorough exercise. [5]

Jeffrey Brister: Yeah, patter choruses are good, bisexual anguish is good, Rapp's voice is good if not incredible (there are more dynamite vocal performances elsewhere on her album), but I HATE the whole "let the arrangement do all of the heavy lifting in the chorus" trope. It's lazy songwriting, it robs songs of any energy gathered up during the verse, it's plodding and repetitive, it's irritating because I have to sit through 146 seconds that go absolutely nowhere, and then angrily hit repeat so I can listen to it because I write about a song best when I'm actually listening to it, which can also make me hate a song more than it deserves, so I try to be a bit diplomatic about it, and yes I am fully aware I am saying too much but WE'RE SO BACK (for a little while at least) so you bet your ass I'm going to try to hold your attention more than this limp and boring song by also mentioning that I Have Written At Least One song and I know at least the basics about the subject so I believe that should lend me a little credibility. It's not great and it irritates me! Give me something!!! [4]

Kayla Beardslee: First time listening, and I can see why this release made noise: it's a surprisingly good Pop Girl Song from an artist whose acting and theater background wasn't guaranteed to translate well to pop music. Of course, once you get past the "oh, it's good" phase, it just sounds like a run-of-the-mill pop single: nice chorus, but there are a thousand other songs that do the same thing. [5]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Selena Gomez whisper-pop finally gets its day back in the sun -- and now it's gay! [8]

Aaron Bergstrom: In a nearby parallel universe, this is the summer's smash hit entitled "Bad Idea Right?" [8]

Will Adams: Dagny's legacy lives on! Anything else going on in the song? No? Okay then. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: A Katy Perry rejoinder with a Katy Perry chorus (which itself was already a Dagny chorus). [5]

Dorian Sinclair: Reneé Rapp was eight when Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" came out, so I would be mildly surprised if "Pretty Girls" was meant to be a direct response -- but as someone who was in my late teens at the time, I can't help but read it as one, despite my general efforts to ignore that the Perry track ever happened. Regardless of whether it was intended, Rapp's crafted a strong rejoinder, helped along by some great musical touches on the chorus: stuttery syncopation, but also and especially the pitch-shifting and chaotic intrusions that intrude the last time through as the party's winding down. It's a shame that the verses aren't musically distinctive whatsoever, deflating both the energy from that chorus and the jagged observations of their lyrics. [6]

Micha Cavaseno: I'm glad that I get to be a lesbian in the open, just because it means I can want more from lesbian dynamics in songs and it doesn't come off crass all the time. Because I'm always kind of warded off by a certain chivalry that comes through in desiring women by women in songs, the kind of energy that I recognize is hard-won to be so open but simultaneously emanates dull passive-aggression all the same. Maybe to be brazen and vain is a luxury not so easy when your quarry is just a girly who's skittish and soft but holy shit, just look at the thread of logic here, ok? It doesn't help that Reneé's vocal is so sleepy and mealy-mouthed, nor the gimmick shifts of the production never actually provide the song with energy. Congratulations ladies, we're the "nice girls" who get left behind for bad boys today. [2]

Taylor Alatorre: You can tell she felt that getting this message out to the world was so important that it didn't necessitate stringing these two or three song snippets into a seamless whole. It's not even clear that she's wrong about that. I remain largely unmoved by pop stars' attempts to channel the kind of confessional bedroom indie I used to hear at the Empty Bottle and the Beat Kitchen, but as a generational default setting for emotional unloading, you could do worse. And anyway, you're not here for that snippet, or for the Jepsenesque chorus, or for the fidgety outro where things actually get sonically interesting. You're here for "yeah, that bitch is gay," you're here for Katy Perry answer songs, you're here for [2015 voice] the Discourse. Well, Reneé Rapp seems to say: have at it. You worked hard this year. You deserve it. [6]

Ian Mathers: I don't even go here (in a couple of senses), but can I just say respectfully: fucking oof. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: The sulky delivery Reneé favors on the verses feels both frustrated and defeated: setting the mood and inhabiting the contempt she feels by having to tolerate the clumsy, cowardly flings by insecure girls with girls like her. The delivery gets bigger by zooming in on it, magnifying the whisper of bitterness over the heavy bass arpeggios of the first chorus. Then, when the second chorus doesn't let the last line hang in near silence, the power of this magnification fails, since we're meant to wallow in the frustration. The song switches the drum programming by the outdo and drops a tantalizing synth line, then zaps it out of nowhere, dramatizing the brief spark of excitement and desire that disappears in a flash. Too bad that's at the end. Could've used it on the second verse, tbh. [6]

Vikram Joseph: The dimly lit opening verse is the best part of this; thereafter it just morphs into a "Now I'm In It"/"Supercut" mashup without the jittery dynamism of the former or the breathless intensity of the latter. As a call-out of queer-baiting behaviour it's halfway interesting but no more than that; "You think that I'd be be flattered/it's pathetic cos you're right," cuts nicely, but the awkwardly delivered "It's a blessing and it's a curse," is a piss-weak conclusion to draw. As ever, Self Esteem did it better. [5]

Alfred Soto: "I like the straitjacket," she offers, not a sentiment one hears these days: the freedom within form, freedom within constraints. Fussing over the details of a friend's relationship while the beats pull at her elbow, reminding her there's other prey. [7]

Brad Shoup: For a short track, they didn't spare the details: the movie-trailer detuning of that lonesome acoustic figure, the breakbeat at the end (with something close enough to live drums). And there's the fade-in that starts ominous, then shifts to cinematic just before it peaks. I think it's supposed to foreshadow the chorus, which really is good and also reframes the verses as sort of a weird, lamentable fact of life. Which is an interesting way to frame things! [7]

Frank Falisi: Do you know what can happen in less than three minutes? What are the totems you carry around with worry, with desire? When is repeating retreating? Aren't you second-guessing yourself now? Why do we gather words from daily life and corral them into a chorus? When a word jumps out of the mouth, can someone else catch it, want to utter its want? And what do you catch in that process? How does it feel getting caught? Is discovering another language to pronounce "I want" an elision of "and I can't have"? When we say "pretty girls" are we remembering faces? Imagining them? What is it about a refrain: the way it assures or the ways it dares? What if the parts of a chorus that we keep singing are something else entirely, halfway between a fantasy and a feeling? And have you ever thought how many times in your life you have less than three minutes to sing something? [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Every time I listen to "Pretty Girls" I get stuck on one word, sung almost in passing in the song's first verse: "pathetic." It's a hard word for a pop song -- it almost feels like too much, a too-early shift from subtext to text. But from that one word Reneé Rapp manages to conjure up a short story's worth of ambiguous feeling -- of self-awareness, of joy, of desperation, of regret, of nihilism, of hope. It's the single point from which the rest of "Pretty Girls" springs from -- even the production choices, which drawn from the same post-Melodrama-and-MUNA well that lite-alt-pop albums in the 2020s are seemingly obliged to draw from, make sense in its light, in the curdled daydream that word implies. [8]

Hannah Jocelyn: If there's one thing I've learned from the last few years of being out, it's that straightness as a concept is insufficient to describe the complex, intense relationships people have with one another regardless of orientation or gender. So we wind up with these catch-22 scenarios, where alcohol gets someone bi-curious, and the mixed messages leave Reneé Rapp bi-furious. (I use that term exclusively to shoehorn in a Scott Pilgrim reference; come on, she even looks like Envy Adams!) The chorus chord progression is both too busy and oddly melancholy, almost capturing Rapp's conflicted feelings by accident: If the lyrics are bitter, she's still sympathetic towards those "Pretty Girls." The short length is disappointing -- I could listen to the chopped vocals and distorted drum kit for another minute at least -- but it makes sense because there isn't more to say, is there? I don't think it's anyone's fault these things happen; I think we're all trapped in comphet, regardless of how we identify. We keep on pretending, to each other and to ourselves, denying our desire for one another. That's why I admire this class of messy sapphic artists like Rapp, Fletcher, and Baby Queen even when I don't always like their music -- they know desire's a terrible thing, but you know, they really don't mind. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[kecaisacat]

A Blessing Called You.

A not-so-love letter to my E.

It’s a bit strange to say 'Happy 100 days' when we're not even together right now. This letter was supposed to be full of hope for the future of our relationship, brimming with love and dreams. And in many ways, it still is. It's just shaped differently now that we’ve taken separate paths. I always imagined celebrating this day with you.

So, Happy 100 days, Kak. It's Keca's camera roll!

No matter what we’re doing, whether it’s something thrilling or just a simple quiet day, being with you makes every moment shine brighter and feel warmer. It always stirs up feelings I can't quite put into words, all I know is that I like it more with you.

It’s funny to realize that we never truly took the time to celebrate our special moments together, did we? My birthday, your birthday, our mensiversaries… even my sidang day. But even so, I’m so grateful I got to share those days with you. Thank you for crossing my path. Thank you for leaving a comment on my post that day. It may have seemed casual to you, or maybe just a fleeting connection, but to me, it meant more than words can express. I still can't believe that in the short time we had, I can share so much of myself with you.

I used to think it would be easier for me to let everything go, karena aku juga capek banget waktu itu, but turns out, it's not. I still find myself smiling when I reread our old chats, and I can still feel you around, even when I can't see you anywhere but in my memories. I sometimes wonder why you like things so much, and turns out I understand why you like them. Sometimes, even now, I catch myself wanting to rush to talk to you whenever something big happens. I want you to be the first person who knows, the first person I share it with. Even though we’re no longer together, that part of me hasn’t quite let go.

This song reminds me of you. I sometimes feel a bit pathetic and terrible for holding onto these feelings, but I’ve come to understand that it’s okay. It’s okay to be vulnerable and to feel a little lost because that is part of the game when you truly love someone. Maybe I’ll just hold onto these feelings until they naturally fade or until I can’t do it anymore. But no matter what, I carry no guilt for ever loving you.

Someone says that some of us didn’t find time to be happy because we were too focused on being strong. I often wonder, what if I could’ve handled things better, what if I could’ve treated you better, what if I could just enjoy every moment without overthinking about anything? It’s easy to love someone when everything is going right, but loving you through the hard times has made me realize just how deep my feelings for you really are. But maybe you were right, there's nothing to do with it right now, knowing it just happened.

Still, I just wish you could feel how genuine my feelings are, even just once. Despite the hurt we caused each other and everything that left us feeling drained, there’s something about us that always brings a smile to my face, and I hope you can feel that too. I’m sorry if it’s taking me a bit longer to let go, but please know you’re free to do whatever you want to. I will never see you in a bad light or say anything bad about you.

Not really good with words or writing stuff like this, but I made this for you. I actually wrote it a while ago when my agency asked me to write about someone I love, and you were the only person I could think of at that time. Now, I finally get to share it with you, happy reading!

We may be walking different paths now, but you’ll always be one of my favorite stops along the way. I’ll carry that with me. I don't know what you're doing, what happened in your day, or who you talk to every day, but wherever life takes you, I hope your journey is gentle, kind, and filled with everything you wish for.

With all my love, K.

P.S. You can claim your gifts anytime, they'll always be yours.

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Nanny ~ Bang Chan [Request]

WORD COUNT: 7.8K

GENRE: Fluffy,fluff and fluff, Non Idol AU, Single dad Au,

PAIRING: Bang Chan x Nanny!Female!Reader

A/N: I hope that this is okay for you sweetie!!!

"How do you know this guy still wants a nanny?" You questioned your best friend Felix as he pulled up outside a large home, he cut the engine off and shook his head at you. The whole drive over you'd been silent which he knew was a sign of you overthinking, he'd known you long enough to know all of the signs of it. He'd been your roommate for four years he knew you better than you knew yourself at this point.

"Because he's done nothing but complain to us at work about needing a nanny all week, what's the big deal? You're qualified for the job." It was true that you were extremely qualified to nanny for someone but you'd never been a live-in Nanny before which was the part that was scaring you the most. Felix had come to you one night claiming he had the perfect job for you, someone at his job was complaining about not having a Nanny for his 5-year-old daughter and needed one. The thought of living with people you barely knew terrified you but Felix assured you that the man you would be working for was great. He'd known him for the last three years at their job and the man was perfect, not to mention his daughter was one of the cutest little girls Felix had ever met in his life. A little 5-year-old bundle of joy.

"What if he's a creep at home? What if he hits on me? What if he's secretly a serial killer?!" You questioned as you got out of the car and Felix began heading up to the front door of the house he knew too well. Chan and Felix had been close since he started working there which was why Felix knew you and Chan would get along brilliantly together and have a good workflow.

Felix rolled his eyes as he listened to you come up with poor excuses not to get on with the interview and go back home, there was no way he was going to let you get out of this one since he knew how desperate you were for a new nanny gig. Looking after kids were something you'd dreamt of doing your whole life and for the last six years, you'd been looking after a 12-year-old boy until he turned 18 and the family no longer had a need for you. Not to mention Chan had lost his wife three years ago and hadn't dated or seemed interested in anyone since.

"It'll be good for you to get hit on, I don't remember the last time you even went on a date," Felix pulled a playful disgusted face and you rolled your eyes at him ignoring his attempts to make you feel better about all of this but it wasn't working. You were seriously nervous about meeting someone you didn't know anything about except for his name, Chan, that was all Felix told you about him. That and he was one of the producers that helped Felix write and produce songs at their entertainment company so the guy was constantly busy.

"This is serious Lix," You tried to tell him but he was already laughing softly.

"Trust me, Chan is not creepy and you'll love his daughter." Before you could even argue on it even more Felix rang the doorbell so you would shut up and then you were left alone with your thoughts. All of them creeping in about how you didn't know someone you were going to live with, you barely knew what his daughter was like and you knew you would be spending 90% of your time with them from now on if you got the job. Then the good thoughts crawled in, the pay was exceptionally great since you would be living inside their house, it was someone Felix knew which meant it would be easier and more relaxed to get to know the family.

"Hi!" You heard a male voice call out who you assumed was Chan call out through the closed door followed by some loud playful yelling and squealing out.

"Lix!? Open the door, Areum is currently running around covered in paint and I can't get her," Felix chuckled to himself as he pushed the large white front door open revealing the rest of the house to you. The door opened up into a small porch, directly in front of you were some carpeted stairs and to your right was an archway leading to the living room. The place seemed huge from where you were standing, nothing like you would have pictured it either. The floors were all laminated with brown wood, the walls were white, black leather sofas and a faux fur rug were on the floor.

"Hey you, come here!" A breathy chuckle came through the air and you saw a little girl screaming as she dripped paint onto the floor. She was darting towards the archway laughing wildly at her father, she had dark brown hair and the once black outfit she was wearing seemed to be mostly covered in white kiddy paint. The sight alone was enough to make you giggle a little as she rushed past you and Felix and around the sofa to avoid her father.

"Areum! We have guests!" Chan laughed as he almost caught up to her, you watched as a taller blonde male came into sight. He was wearing a black dress shirt with black jeans, probably not the best thing to be wearing whilst chasing a child with paint.

"Can you guys grab her? She's a slippery little girl today," You slid off your shoes and pushed your bag behind you on the floor as you began looking at Felix who went around one side of the sofa. It was a silent plan between the two of you on how to trap Areum and get her to give up the paint.

"I'm going to get your Areum!" Felix called out whilst wiggling his fingers as if he was going to tickle her making her jump up and squeal before running in the opposite direction towards you. You smiled as you saw her running in your direction, a smile filling her cheeks as she looked up at you. For a second you thought she would run over and hide behind your legs since you seemed to be the only other female presence in the room but she didn't.

"Hey!" You called out as she almost reached you but turned around at the last second to avoid you, you managed to grab her carefully and lift her into the air giggling as she laughed at you.

"Spin me!" She cried out as you laughed softly turning her around in small circles on the spot she started laughing again before whining that she was dizzy. You carefully set her down on the ground and took the paint from her hands as she wobbled over to stand by Felix greeting him with a hug.

"Lix can you take Areum for a bath?" Chan laughed as he came over to you to introduce himself properly to you, he held out his hand to shake yours when he noticed the paint on the both of you and stopped himself. He sighed nodding over to the kitchen door as he walked with you,

"Come to the kitchen, we can clean up and I'll do the interview there." He chuckled as he took you into the kitchen. It was larger than your kitchen back in your shared home with Felix, there were white marbled counters lining the room with a kitchen island in the middle of the room.

"I'm Y/n by the way," You told him as you reached the kitchen sink washing your hands under the hot water before dumping the empty tube of white paint into a nearby bin. He thanked you as he dried his own hands on a towel, giving it to you once he was done with it.

"Is Areum always like that?" You laughed out as you dried your hands on a towel listening to Felix who was currently singing loudly to Areum. Chan shook his head at you as he took you over to a small dining room just off from the kitchen. It had a round table inside with paperwork and folders all over it, you assumed it was paperwork for the job interview he was about to do with you.

"Not all of the time, she's just had a little too much sugar this morning and went wild. Saturday mornings are Weetabix days and...She got her hands on the sugar," He groaned out at himself as he thought back on the memory.

"I'd only turned away for two seconds," He laughed as he shook his head pulling out a chair across from him so you could sit down with him. As soon as you were settled he smiled up at you, there was something about him that seemed familiar. His dyed-blonde hair was throwing you off a little but you felt as though you knew him from somewhere,

"I should introduce myself properly right? That's how people do job interviews?" You relaxed as soon as you realised Chan was new at all of this as well and seemed a little more nervous about it than you did.

"I'm Christopher Bang, I go by Chan to everyone though as I just prefer it." He smiled at you flashing a dimple and that was when it hit you where you knew him from. The dimple and his full name hitting you as though someone had just flicked a switch inside of your head.

"C-Christopher Bang from Kinsella High School?" His eyes wandered up to your face as he nodded slowly wondering how you knew which school he had attended and you smiled as you realised it was him.

"Y/n! We went to the same school, I was in a couple of your classes!" You laughed softly as you finally placed where you knew him from. He and the main Cheerleader, Seo Nayeon were high school sweethearts back in school which made your heart sink as you remembered what Felix had told you. Chan had been a struggling single father since his wife died three years ago leaving him alone with Areum. The thought of Nayeon not being around anymore hurt, you'd been quite close in school but when you both went to different universities you drifted apart.

"Its good to see you again! I remember you from my English literature class and I think you were on the team with Nayeon right?" You nodded your head from side to side at him that was only partly true,

"Not officially on the team, I would just do all the girls hair and makeup for them." You laughed remember the good memories from your high school years. Not many people could claim they had a nice time in school but for what it was worth yours was pretty good.

"It's nice to see you again," He meant it this time, now he felt as though he didn't have to have too much of a rough time getting to know you. He didn't want the whole process to be slow and boring so it made it easier to know you had something in common together. You both smiled at one another before he continued on with the interviewing process.

"I mean the last decision is down to Areum but I think you should have the job," Chan laughed as you walked through to the living room together. The interview was just the two of you catching up on what you had been doing since leaving high school, it didn't felt as though two hours had passed at all. Sitting on the sofa was the same girl who less than two hours ago was screaming the entire place down but now she was curled up on Felix's lap with a bowl of popcorn in her hands. She was like a completely different person from before, she was in a complete state of relaxation now.

"I decide on what daddy?" She questioned as she sat up to look over at you both watching you closely as though she was trying to eye you up.

"Would you like Y/n here to be your nanny?" Chan watched as Areum slid herself off the sofa and walked to stand in front of you both, looking you up and down as she did so.

"That depends on the next questions I have for you," You bent down so you could be eye to eye with her and she smiled, happy you were treating her as though her opinion mattered.

"Do you like Disney princesses?" You nodded your head at her as thinking back on all those nights you forced Felix into watching the movies with you, as well as dragging him to the cinema whenever there was a new release.

"I do, I have a Disney DVD collection that I make Felix watch with me." You told her proudly, she took your hand in her smaller one and walked you towards the front door and up the stairs to her bedroom without saying a word to you.

Opening the door she smiled as she proudly gave you the tour of her room. The whole room had pink walls, and there was a white loft bed with a pink curtain along the bottom,

"My secret palace," She whispered to you taking you into the room and pulling the curtain back, you could have died happily once you saw how many stuffed animals she had. All of them Disney related somehow it must have taken years to collect everything that she had under there.

"Whoa." You laughed as you glanced over everything that was there. Areum smiled proudly as she realised you were impressed and pulled you down to sit on a beanbag beside her.

"I also have this." She pointed up to top slabs of her bed, a small projector was hanging on them it looked as though Chan must have installed it for her and she switched it on. It began running a film on the white wall at the bottom of her bed,

"You could bring your DVD's with you when you move in," You smiled as she basically confirmed you having the job and then she went back to quizzing you on everything and anything that she could think of that would make you a good enough nanny for her.

Felix and Chan smirked at one another from outside the bedroom when they heard the two of you talking together.

"I told you she would be good for the job," Felix whispered to Chan who had been unsure about everything when Felix first came to him with your CV. He'd been worried about hiring a nanny for Areum but since Areum was getting older it was getting harder to hire a babysitter all of the time he needed one. After Nayeon died he thought he could do it alone but the older Areum got the more he began to realise it would be hard to raise a daughter when he worked 5 days a week with long shifts.

"She's single you know," Felix nudged Chan in the side playfully and Chan pretended not to hear what the younger male was saying while they walked down the stairs to the living room.

"She's a good roommate, she'll end up cleaning up everything even if she didn't make the mess...Chan, she's the best you won't regret hiring her," He told him as they sat down on the sofas together, Chan looked at Felix as he thought over everything again.

"I just don't want Areum to get the wrong idea-" Felix sighed as he shook his head knowing that Chan meant he didn't want Areum to think he was replacing her mother.

"She won't, Areum is a bright girl Chan. You know that and I know that. It'll be like she has a live-in best friend." Felix tried to reassure him as they spoke to one another but Chan was still a little unsure in his mind as they spoke about it more.

They stopped speaking when you and Areum came down the staircase together, Areum looked at her dad as she walked into the room trying to keep a straight face on as she looked at him.

"She's hired." You giggled as she rushed over to the sofa and jumped onto Felix staring up at her father again,

"On one condition," She stumbled over the word a little but looked at her dad with confidence,

"And what's the condition?" He raised his eyebrows looking between you and then Areum for answers,

"She gets to bring her DVD's and we force both you and Lix into Disney nights." Chan nodded since he'd already seen 90% of the Disney movies that were out there as well as already know the Frozen movies word for word. As well as how to play most of them on the piano since his daughter had insisted on him learning it for her,

"That's fine with me, Lix?" Felix stared at Areum who had her forehead pressed against his as a way of intimidating him into agreeing with her, not that she would need to do that. Felix would give her the world if she wanted it all she would have to do is ask nicely.

"It's practically perfect in every way." He said as he quoted the original Mary Poppins moving causing Areum to yell out in glee and rush over to you giving you a hug.

"You can start moving in today and you'll start Monday, is that okay?" Chan questioned as he looked at you and Areum together, already it was like Areum had a best friend and she was enjoying herself and Chan could tell she liked you.

"Sure, I'll have Lix help me bring my bags over." You smiled at him as you looked at Felix who knew he didn't have a choice in the matter, he was helping whether he liked it or not.

The plan was to just take a couple of bags of clothes every couple of weeks instead of fully moving into the house, you didn't want to be in the way or make it seem like you were taking over but after three months of working with Areum and Chan, you'd moved in. The bedroom you had to yourself was on the top floor of the house on its own and had a small en-suite bathroom. It was nice having your own space to live in and after a while, it didn't even feel as though you were working for him, it just felt like you were living with a friend. Chan insisted on never letting you buy take out food unless you were buying it on your own at the weekends when they weren't eating with you, all of you shared the same food that was in the house it was basically like living with Felix only with a smaller best friend with him.

The first month of living in the house had been awkward, it took you a little time getting into the swing of their routines but once you got into it everything was great. Chan would go out for a jog every morning at 4 am, sometimes earlier if he didn't sleep that night you found out after the first week of being there his sleeping schedule was a little whacked out. You'd gone done one morning at 2 am to see him sitting in the living room watching an action movie so you joined him. Areum was at school three days out of the week so you would have to get her up and ready for 8 am while Chan went to work but over time you got to know them both a lot. Chan had changed a lot since high school and you ended up getting to know him on a deeper level finding out more about him than you did back then.

Tying your hair into a ponytail you headed down to the bottom floor to go out for a morning run, since moving in with them you'd started getting more active on the weekends. Chan didn't need you around since he didn't work them and you needed something to fill your time with while you had nothing to do. Running and swimming had been your main source of something to do other than hanging around Felix every weekend or trying to organise something with your friends who always seemed too busy.

"Morning," Chan chuckled as he walked into the porch to see you staring out of the small glass panelled windows. The rain was hammering down against the glass which was why he'd already made you a hot chocolate when he heard you moving around, he knew you wouldn't want to run out in that and made a drink for you. That and it was going to be his way of bribing you into helping him out today with Areum.

"Looks like it's going to rain all day, you're probably better off not running in that." He handed you a mug of hot chocolate and you smiled thanking him for him as you followed him into the living room he sat down on the sofa,

"Areum still sleeping?" You questioned as you sat down on the sofa beside him being careful not to spill the drink over.

"Yeah, I think she wants to bake today and I know Saturdays are your day off but..." He trailed off as he looked at you giving you the best puppy dog eyes he could manage and you giggled. After spending three months in the same house as Chan it had become very clear his cooking skills were less than great and when it came to baking you didn't want to put it to chance.

"The hot chocolate was a bribe huh?" You laughed at him before nodding as you thought it over,

"I mean if you're a bad baker you better admit it now." He challenged as he stared into your eyes, you scoffed at him as you sat up straight taking a playful offence to his remark.

"You'll be glad to know I'm an okay baker, better chef than I am a baker but I can help her," You laughed softly as he began thanking you repeatedly, he was just happy he didn't have to call someone else to come in for backup.

"I was scared I would have to call Felix or one of the boys over. I swear they're just as bad if not worse than me." He moaned out rolling his head over the back of the sofa thinking back to the times he'd invited Felix to bake a birthday cake for Areum.

"True. I've tasted Felix's attempts at homemade pizza and I barely lived to see today." You whined out playfully putting the mug of hot chocolate down on the sofa, Chan laughed along with you shaking his head as he turned to look at you.

"He told us you make his lunches for work! Is that true?" You nodded as you giggled thinking about it, all those times you used to wake up extra early to make breakfast and lunch for you in cute little lunch boxes.

"When I nannied for a different family I still lived at home so I would make his lunch when I made mine," Chan chuckled as he shook his head remembering the notes that Felix used to show him which you'd left in his lunch boxes.

"Seriously, if you'd tasted Felix's cooking you would be glad he never bought it to work, I swear it could melt eyelids off." You whimpered as you rolled your head back against the sofa and smiled at the ceiling just enjoying the peace and quiet you were having. Chan started telling you about one of the cake fails he and Felix had encountered before and you laughed it off together, shaking your head as he told you they'd ruined the entire thing by mixing Salt with sugar,

"You did not! That's awful!" You groaned thinking about the thought of eating a salt vanilla cake.

"Areum still ate it," He mumbled as he continued to laugh softly at it both of you staring at one another as you laughed together. Suddenly it was like you were the only ones in the room Chan moved a little closer to you on the sofa and you smiled nervously as you felt a shiver run up and down your back. There had been moments between you both throughout the last three months that made you feel like you had feelings for him but it would be wrong. He was your boss…But there was always something there. Just last week you were walking back up to your room after using the main bathroom shower since yours only had a bathtub and you both bumped into one another. Staring into each other’s eyes as you waited for the other to say or do something. Then there were the times you would accidentally cuddle one another while watching a movie or brush up against one another in the kitchen. Small things that made your heart race and your mind fuzz up just thinking back on them. Your eyes locked on Chan’s as you tried to say something, a small comeback for the salt cake but Areum’s footsteps came racing down the stairs and you moved away from him.

"CUPCAKE BAKING DAY!" Being screamed out by Areum who was dressed in an onesie and black apron tied around her waist, it looked a little big for her but she was still wearing it anyway.

"Ready for baking I see?" You giggled as you sat up straight and turned your body to face her eyes lit up as she saw you ready to bake with her,

"You're baking too?!" She seemed to go up in pitch as she got excited about you baking with her and her father,

"Yeah, we'll make some cupcakes after you've had breakfast and I've changed. Sound good?" She nodded at you sprinting over as she hugged your legs tightly,

"Sound fantastic!" You patted the top of her head before leaving and that was when she turned to her dad, smiling as she began listing off everything you were going to need to make today a baking success.

"Are you both ready?!" Areum questioned as she walked in front of you and Chan, slapping a pink spoon against her hand as she marched around in front of you as though she was some kind of sergeant.

"Yes, Chef!" You both called out to her in unison as she smiled pointing at the aprons on the back of the kitchen door for you both to take,

"Daddy can have the pink one. I want to match with Y/n in our black ones." You smirked as you saw the disgusted look flash over Chan's face about wearing a bright pink apron, you knew how much he loved wearing black rather than brighter colours.  

"Hey I mean, the princess on the front really makes your eyes stand out," You teased him and he glared at you playfully, pulling you close when Areum wasn't looking at you. His chest pressed against your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist,

"I'm going to ruin all your cupcakes." He whispered in your ear a seemingly innocent thing to do but your brain was freezing as all you could think about were his arms around you. From the moment he pulled you into his personal space your mind went into a brain fog and all you could think about was Chan kissing you. Your skin tingling as you felt his skin on your own, you had goosebumps up and down your body as you laughed it off trying to pretend like you had felt nothing but Chan had felt it too. He smiled at you as he stepped to the other side of Areum. She was standing on a stool in front of the Kitchen island as she waited for you both to start helping her,

"Coca powder!" She yelled out reading from a list of ingredients in front of her. Chan handed her the powder, continuing on like that while you both handed her everything she needed like a doctor in surgery when they would ask for a surgical instrument.

Areum was decorating all of the cupcakes with chocolate fudge icing while you and Chan helped with your own icing bags trying to do your best to follow an image she had up on Chan’s tablet.

"Hey, Y/n...You have a little something," Chan mumbled as he glanced over at you making you look up at him, he pointed to his own cheek as to where the mark on you was and you reached up to wipe it away.

"Where?" You questioned feeling nothing on your face, he sighed as you touched the wrong space over and over again,

"Chan where?" You giggled out as he continued to sigh at you before he shook his head at you,

"Right here," Before you could even react he placed a large squirt of chocolate icing across your cheek making you scream out in surprise as you felt the chocolate run down your face and hit the floor. Areum looked down at the chocolate and then back up to her dad who seemed to be laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

"Right...Channie, You have something just here-" You picked up some flour from the bag and threw it in his direction making him spit some out onto the floor after getting some in his mouth. Areum started laughing as she watched you both starting a food fight in the middle of the kitchen, she took her small plate of cupcakes into the dining room where she could protect them from your warpath.

"Christopher!" You cried out when you felt an egg yolk run down the front of your shirt making you groan at how cold the egg was,

"Oh! Christopher and Channie? We bringing out my full name and nicknames?!" He laughed harder, he hadn't heard someone use 'Channie' for him in years, even Nayeon stopped after they'd left school but it was refreshing to hear from someone else and it even made his heart jump. The only person who ever called him Christopher was his mother and that was only when he was in trouble.

"Chris! Put down the eggs!" You called out as you backed away from him, Areum watched from the door frame as you and Chan continued to throw random food items at one another from across the room. It was the first time she'd seen her father this happy in the longest time and she'd missed seeing the huge smile on his face so much.

"Areum! Save me!" You cried out as you ran past the dining room door, grabbing her as you held her in front of your body, kneeling down so you could shield yourself away from Chan.

"Don't bring me into it!" She yelled out before darting away from you letting you get hit with an egg to the chest, you groaned out as you held your hands up.

"You win! White flag!" You yelled out as you looked up at Chan, panic-filled him as he realised you looked as though you were really hurt by something and he rushed down to your side to check you over.

"Did it hurt? You okay?!" His voice cracked which made you feel almost bad for what you were about to do but you reached up and cracked an egg on top of his head. He stared at you in silence while Areum rushed over to give you a high five and dump the rest of the bag of flour onto Chan's head both of you giggling to one another.

"I'm going to give you a five-second head start..." Your eyes widened and so did Areum's as you scrambled to your feet trying to get out of the kitchen as fast as possible. Chan began counting down loudly so you both made a run to the living room, the front door opening to reveal Felix standing there drenched in water.

"FELIX RUN!" You screamed out running past him to save Areum but Chan picked you up from behind spinning you around making you scream out,

"AREUM SAVE YOURSELF!" You yelled out as Felix assessed the situation laughing when he saw the state of you and Chan he shook his head. He knew that both of you would get along well enough.

"What happened?" He laughed once Chan finally put you back down on both your feet and let go of you, you brushed some of the flour off in Chan’s direction and he wiped some of the egg off him onto you.

"Baking disaster," You laughed looking up at Chan who was standing directly behind you, his chest once again pressed against your back.

"Can you go and held run Areum a bath? We'll clean up down here, I think it’s only fair I help clean since I helped make the mess." Chan told Felix as you looked back over at the kitchen which looked as though a food bomb had exploded inside. Felix smirked to himself at the thought of you and Chan getting closer to one another, for a second when he walked in he thought it was just a lovers embrace he'd caught but then he noticed the food and realised you were only playing together.

"Sure. I'll take a pizza has payment though." You rolled your eyes at him but promised to buy him his favourite type before he ran up the staircase to help Areum clean herself up and find her some clean clothes to change into for the rest of the day.

Later that night Felix and Areum were asleep under her bed, they'd passed out watching Moana together so you and Chan left them there for the night. After the baking incident and pizza, all of you decided to have one of the famous Disney nights you’d been wanting to do which resulted in the biggest kids falling asleep before the fifth movie was even over. Covering them both in a blanket while smiling to yourselves about how cute they looked you snuck out of the room being careful not to wake them when you shut the door,

"Thank you," Chan said as you both got onto the landing of the middle floor, you frowned wondering what he meant and he smiled weakly,

"For coming into our lives, I-I mean Areum's life. I don't think I've seen her this happy for a while..W-We're both happy you're here I just meant..." He stopped when you giggled softly at how he was starting to stumble over his words but he continued talking. He truly meant every word though, it wasn’t just Areum that you’d been helping out with. You’d helped with Chan too without even noticing it.

"I just wanted to say I'm glad you decided to come with us, it's been great having you here." He smiled as you stared up at him, the longer you looked at him the more your heart began to pound. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he tried to think of something to say to you until he finally bent down a little, tilting his head to the side and closed his eyes. Without a second thought about it, you matched his actions, leaning forward to kiss him. Your lips brushed against one another and the same shock you'd felt earlier that night came rushing back to you making you smile against his lips. He relaxed a little wrapping his arms around your waist as he drew your body closer to his. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck pulling yourself closer as you run your tongue along his bottom lip he smirked parting them slowly for you as you made out in the hallway. Everything around you seemed to disappear as you kissed him, everything was starting to feel right in the world when the sound of a door opening made you break apart. Chan cleared his throat scratching the back of his neck and you shivered trying to think of something to say to get out of the situation with Felix.

"Going to shower." You mumbled as you walked towards the stairs ignoring Felix who was smirking at the both of you, having seen everything he needed to see already, the kiss was more than enough for him to confirm you both liked one another. He could tell by the blush on Chan’s cheeks he liked you a lot.

"G-Going to go and erm...Go water the plants." He was never a good liar as he began making his way down the stairs,

“Chan?” Felix called out as he looked around the corner at the blushing man,

“You don’t have plants.” Chan let out a noise Felix didn’t understand or think was human as he ran off from him but Felix only chased after him wanting more answers.

The door to your room had a small knock on it and you frowned turning over to check the time, it wasn't even 2 am yet so you knew it wasn't going to be Areum. Unlike her father, she could sleep like the dead. You rolled over in the bed as you made your way to the door,

"Chan?" You frowned when you saw him standing there in a hoodie and some sweatpants, you yawned looking at him for some kind of explanation,

"Couldn't sleep...I brought snacks and a movie." He lifted up the small portable DVD play and a bag of marshmallows as his only bribe.

"Did I wake you up?!" He panicked looking at you he knew he had but he still wanted to make it seem like he was shocked you were asleep. Over the last couple of months whenever Chan couldn’t sleep you would find one another watching a movie together downstairs, it had almost become a sort of tradition between the two of you.

"No Chan, I've just come in from a scuba dive. Yes, you woke me up," You grumbled taking the bag of marshmallows from his hand and going over to your bed, you patted the spot beside you and he walked over to you. Somehow it didn't feel awkward between you despite the heated makeout session you were having five hours ago, you laid your head on his shoulder watching the action movie of his choice. Tonight was Mr and Mrs Smith which was a film you’d been wanting to see for a while.

"I thought you'd be awake...I'm sorry," You shook your head at him as you stuffed the marshmallows into your mouth,

"I'm okay, I like watching movies in the night." You mumbled tiredly as you continued to try and stay awake from the movie. You had no idea what was making you want to do this but the thought of Chan being alone when he couldn't sleep hurt you to think about, you wanted to be there for him whenever you could be.

"About the kiss..." He whispered to you an hour later, you rested your chin on his shoulder to look at him and he turned his head to look at you, you didn't say anything as you waited for him to finish his sentence.

"I want it to happen again." He admitted to you as he licked his lips, your heart jumped as he told you exactly what you were thinking and you nodded along with him and he smiled glad to know you were on the same page about things.

"Will it ruin what we have going on with you as a nanny?" He questioned hoping for the answer to be no. His eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips as he fought the urge to kiss you again without hearing what you had to say first.

"Not if you don't want it to...W-We can hide it from Areum-"You tried to tell him but he cut you off,

"I don't know if we can hide it, I mean I faked not being tired just because I knew you would stay awake with me...I wanted to spend time with you." Your heart began to pound faster as you realised he wanted to be with you. That he wanted to spend as much time with you as you did with him. You shook your head at him shutting the small portable DVD player down being glad you didn't have to fight the urge to sleep any more. Your eyelids were getting too heavy to keep open anymore.

"You'll have to keep you cool around your daughter Mr Bang." Your lips brushed against his and he smirked as you teased him a little making him whine out,

"I can do that..." You smiled at his words before leaning forward to finally connect your lips to one another, a small and soft kiss to keep you good until the morning.

"Good. Now let me sleep." You whined out at him snuggling down into the sheets as he sat up waiting for another kiss from you. You knew he wasn’t going to move so you kept your eyes shut as you threatened him playfully,

"Either cuddle me to sleep or sleep downstairs on your own." You mumbled not wanting to stay awake longer than you had to know you knew it had just been a ploy to get closer to you. He chuckled shaking his head and sliding down behind you, spooning you as you held onto one another.

After another a month of sneaking around behind Areum's back it was beginning to get harder and harder to hide things from her. It was harder to control yourself around one another when all you wanted to do was act like the couple you really were. Areum wasn't dumb for her age and she could tell there was something going on when her dad would sneak out of your room in the mornings or when she would catch you wearing one of his hoodies. It wasn't like you wanted to keep it from her but you wanted to make sure the feelings were strong enough before either of you decided to tell her what was happening between you.

"I think she knows," He mumbled to you one night as you laid in your bed together the movie of choice had just finished and you were trying to sleep in the dark. He had his arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed the back of your neck softly.

"Why do you think that?" You whispered to him, playing with his hands while you tried to get him and yourself to sleep, you knew if you traced patterns into his skin he would slowly start to drift off. It was one of the cute things you’d learnt about him over your nights like this together.

"She keeps asking if she'll need a new babysitter soon..." You laughed softly and rolled over to face him,

"Do you think she'll need a new babysitter soon? I-I don't want you to keep paying me if we're together..." It would be far too weird for him to pay you for being a nanny while your relationship keeps developing.

"What do you mean if we're together...I thought we were already together," You rolled your eyes at him as he took what you meant too literally even though he knew exactly what you meant by it,

"You know what I mean, I already feel weird taking money from you. I would have to find a new family to nanny for if we came out officially..." He shook his head at you, kissing your lips softly as he tried to get you to relax a little,

"I make more than enough money, you wouldn't need to find a new family to nanny...Y-You could just be a part of this one." He raised his eyebrows as he looked at you trying to see if you would be comfortable with that. He knew he had strong feelings for you but all he knew about your feelings were that you liked him a lot,

"Chan, you can't say things like that." You moved away from him biting down on your lip as you stared at him,

"Why not?" He sat up in the bed tilting his head to the side as he looked at you,

"Because I can already feel myself falling in love with you if you keep saying things like that i-it'll only make me fall harder." He smirked as he pulled you back to him finally happy to hear the words fall from your lips.  

"Then fall harder, I love you too." You whimpered as you kissed him passionately, whining out as he carefully laid you down in the bed running his hands down your body.

The next morning when Areum couldn't find her dad in his bed she snuck up the stairs to your room knowing he would be with you, pushing the door open and smiling to herself as she saw you both laying there together. She didn't say anything as she walked into the room, sandwiching herself between the two of you and smiling as you both woke up to a kick in the ribs as she attempted to get herself comfortable.

"I think someone knows," You mumbled as you turned over to see Areum laying on her back with a giant smile on her face, happy that her dad and someone she viewed as a best friend were finally happy together. It was becoming increasingly obvious it was the case.

“What gave you that idea?” Chan grumbled as he was forced to wake up,

"Can we have pancakes for breakfast? Then can we watch Frozen 2?" Chan groaned as he pulled a pillow over his face wanting to hide from Areum as she quizzed on him the Disney movie you could all watch.

"What about the little mermaid? Chan can we watch the little mermaid?!" You asked as you sat up in the bed and looked at Chan who was pretending to sleep under the pillow as you decided to join in with the begging of Disney movie watching. It was getting to the point where he knew he would have to lock all of the DVD’s away at some point.

"Areum, tickle attack in 3...2...-" You tried to whisper but Chan moved the pillow to look at you both. Giving the pair of you a warning look as he began talking,

"If you both want to live I suggest you don't- TICKLE ME!" He screamed out the last bit as both you and Areum began to tickle him wildly making him laugh and wriggle around on the bed uncontrollably as he tried to threaten you about how there were no more Disney movie nights. This was the beginning of a bright and wonderful future together. 

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @channiewoo​ @minholuvs​ @lkwonmj​

[angeli-marco-writes]

Hi there! Congratz on 200 followers! I came across your T-Swift post and I couldn’t resist! Could you do “Don’t You” with Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, or Tom Hiddleston? I’ll leave it up to you (: please and thank you!

A/N - Thanks for the request! I chose Tom Hiddleston... I think he fits this really well. I hope you enjoy :) I do not know Tom Hiddleston, nor do I claim to. I don't own the song lyrics used, all credits to owners.

Warnings - none.

My heart stops when I see him. The steady beat halts, no longer pumping, and yet blood still roars in my ears. After all this time, and I see him here... I knew I'd run into him somewhere, I just wasn't expecting this. I’m staring, I realise after a moment, and I don’t mean to, but it’s been a while. A long while.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and shutter the tears from my eyes, repeating two words to myself like a mantra, “Don’t you,” a warning to myself and to him. I’m out on the promenade a moment later, cold air hitting me like a brick wall and finally allowing fresh air into my aching lungs.

That's when his cologne hits me and I feel the familiar weight of his hand on my shoulder, the warmth seeping into my body, my rigidity melting, rendering me helpless to whatever he may say.

"Y/n?" A smile breaks over his face. "Are you okay, darling? How have you been?"

The platonic 'darling' breaks my heart a little more... But God, his voice is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Tom's signature woody cologne infects my senses, and has my knees trembling. The worst thing about this is the beautiful new piece on his arm, legs to her armpits and effortlessly windswept blonde hair. I heard she's nothing like me, and this is just the picture perfect proof.

"Yeah! I'm great. Sorry, didn't see you there," I respond sheepishly, instinctively scratching the back of my neck.

"Yeah, of course. I just saw you hurry out and, you know..." he trails off, "but this is my partner, Lauren."

"Hey," she beams at me, a faux-saccharine quality to her voice.

"Lovely to meet you," I say, and turn to Tom, "I'm sure she'll make you happy."

His smile dims, the stars in his eyes fading along with my melancholy words. Good, I think. You deserve this.

"So how did the two of you meet?"

"It's a really funny story, actually. So I was back in Cambridge..." he starts.

I'm not listening, too lost in my own thoughts. I'm not even sure why I asked, other than basic courtesy.

Sometimes, I really wish that I could hate him. It'd make my life a damn sight easier, because then my chest wouldn't feel like someone was taking a sledgehammer to it every minute he pops back into my thoughts, curly auburn hair and glasses and pretty jumpers all combined. I've tried to hate him, I've really tried, but that's something I can't do.

My heart knows what the truth is.

"That's lovely," I tell them, offering them a forced smile, "I must be getting off though."

Don't you smile at me and ask me how I've been.

"Yes! Us too," Lauren says, "it was nice to meet you."

"You too."

"We'll have to meet up soon," Tom says.

"Yeah, sure. Just text me," I say, and take one last look at him, at the angles of his face, the soft smile that always seems to grace his lips, his eyes so full of life, his tall stature... I remember him as though I'll never see him again.

"I've missed you," he tells me.

Don't tell me you've missed me if you don't want me again, I want to scream at him. You don't know how much I feel I love you too. But he won't feel the same, not anymore, so I keep my mouth shut, and nod faintly.

With tears in my eyes, I walk out of here tonight, try and go on with my life—the one that'll never be the same without him in it.

"Y/N," he calls after me, and the next moment, I can feel his calloused fingertips working their way into my clenched fist. "We're still friends, right?"

I nod mutely, not trusting my own voice with my throat in turmoil, because I won't want to pretend. We can never be friends.

"I know you," he implores before I can turn away, "tell me what's wrong, please."

Before I can help myself or bite my tongue, I'm blurting the words out and setting the tears free, alleviating the ache in my heart with eight simple words. I swore I wouldn't do this.

"I love you, still. So why don't you?"

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

romeo must die

this one-shot is based on the song Romeo Must Die by Gabrielle Aplin, I highly recommend listening to it! shout out to @eugeniaslongsword for introducing me to it :) i even borrowed some lyrics from it haha. it is also inspired by the entire playlist I made, "being treated badly by someone doesn't make you love them more"

content warnings: past toxic/unhealthy relationship, the uncomfy 6-year age gap between Alastair and Charles

Masterlist | Read on AO3

"Alastair, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Alastair looked up from what he was working on. He was in the library of the Institute, along with Cordelia, Thomas, James, Matthew, and Christopher. They were searching for any clue as to how Lucie had done what she’d done or what Tatiana and Belial were planning. Alastair wasn't entirely sure how he got roped into the ordeal, but it seemed as though Thomas suggested him as an extra set of eyes, and Cordelia latched onto the idea.

"No," he said curtly, returning to his reading.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm quite busy at the moment." Alastair spoke under his breath, not wanting to draw the others' attention. How many times had Charles barked the same words at him, swatting him away, hacking away at paperwork or planning his next step in his career? The words sat bittersweet in his chest.

"Surely you could spare a few moments."

"I certainly could. But I do not wish to." Charles had a way of getting into his head and twisting his words and his feelings. It was not an experience he wished to revisit. It was better here, with an audience. It had also been easier in the infirmary, knowing that he held all of the power. His father had made him feel the same way, he thought bitterly. He understood now that what he'd done at school was not only to protect himself from the bullies. He wanted to reclaim the power stolen from him by his father; he wanted for once in his life to hold power himself. He hadn't yet come to the realization that holding that kind of power did nothing but harm. It was of no use, anyways, because it didn't matter how much he perfected his tongue and his wit on the other students at the Academy, he was never able to use it when it counted. Not with Elias, and not with Charles.

"It's fine if you need to take a few minutes, Alastair,” Cordelia said gently. All of the eyes in the room had come to rest on the two of them. Now he wished he’d spoken louder.

“It’s alright, Charles was just leaving.”

He had hoped that Charles would give up and leave knowing that everyone was watching him, but he was determined. He grabbed Alastair’s arm. “It’ll just be-”

Alastair stood, but pulled his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

In a flicker, Alastair saw it: the anxiety began to set in. Charles began to realize that he would not be able to play his usual tricks. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I believe I was quite clear when I told you I don’t wish to speak with you. You’re the one who can’t let this go.”

“Must you act so childish?”

He rolled his eyes. “Must you always call me childish for thinking for myself instead of catering to your every whim?”

“I don’t understand. You said we were fine.”

Alastair sighed. Perhaps for a moment, he thought that was true. For just a second, he thought there was a world where he and Charles could be friends. But Alastair had decided that he would no longer call people who hurt him his friends. “Yes, well, I lied. I wanted to let you down gently, but it’s clear to me now that it must be spelled out for you. How shall I put this? You and I are past our dancing days, Charles.”

“But-” He stammered, searching for words. “What happened with Grace Blackthorn wasn’t my fault.”

“Maybe not. But what of Miss Bridgestock? Am I to pretend that what happened with Miss Blackthorn was not the same as what happened two years earlier?”

“You told me many times that you took no issue with that, that you understood.”

“I understood what you told me, which we both know was never the full truth. I was a sixteen year old desperate for your affections, and the fact that you truly believe I never had any issue with your arrangement is proof that you never genuinely cared about me or listened to my thoughts. I told you in the infirmary that this wasn’t your fault because I thought it’d ease the pain, but I lied. And I don’t have time to sit here and watch you cry over it.”

Alastair wished that watching Charles become flustered would have been more enjoyable. Instead, all he wanted was for this to end. “You- you’re different than when we met. You’ve changed. You’re cruel and callous, I don’t understand how I could not see how heartless you were until now. You are everything that everyone claims you to be. How am I to even know what the truth is when it comes from your lips?”

There was a time when those words would have cut deeply into him, eating at his every insecurity, but Charles mistakenly assumed that Alastair was the same person he was last July, with the same insecurities. “When we met, I was fourteen years old. I’ve grown up, and it is time for you to do the same. It’s been six months, Charles. You need to stop writing me. If that makes me heartless, I don’t care. And if you wish to know the truth, the truth is that the moment you leave here, if I never see your face again, it still will not be long enough.”

Charles stared at him for a long while, unable to find a proper retort. In the end, it was Matthew who stepped in. “Charles, I believe it’s time for you to go.”

He obliged, finally turning to leave the library. As he began to walk away, however, Alastair knew that he was not finished. His heart beat a little bit faster at the thought of such a confession, and faster again when he realized who would hear it, but there was no piece of parting with Charles that he wished to regret.

“Wait,” he said. Charles froze and turned to look at him. “I know it’s unlikely that you have it in the cold depths of your soul to care, but let the record show that I would have given you everything. I would have given you my life, all of the love and trust that I had to give, and then I would have given more. And you gave me nothing. So the next time you’re pondering my heartlessness, you ought to wonder what that means for you.”

Finally satisfied, Alastair did not wait for Charles to turn and leave again to return to his seat and pick his reading back up. He waited for a moment, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him. He stood once more, opening his mouth to speak, but the words were caught in his throat. Instead, he walked out of the library in silence.

Finding the nearest balcony, he attempted to steady his breath.

“Are you alright?” He heard from behind him. Thomas. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shook his head. “I just needed some air.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Alastair sighed. He backed up against the window and slid down to the floor of the balcony. “I know- I know that everyone sort of knew already, but… by the Angel, I feel so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Thomas told him, sitting down beside him.

“You were right, of course you were. I was so… taken with him, back in Paris. I couldn’t see him for what he was. I was so naive, so foolish. I just- After everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been through, how did I not realize-”

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s knee. “You wanted to see the best in him. After everything you’d seen and been through, you wanted to believe that there were still good and honest people in the world. And there are. I’m sorry that he was not one of them, but that does not make you foolish or pathetic. It makes you… kind.”

“I bet you’d never imagined describing me as such before.”

“It seems you’re full of surprises,” Thomas teased. “But that’s not true. I always saw the kindness in you, even back at school, when you did everything to keep it hidden.”

“As you can see, my ‘kindness’ has never gotten me very far.”

“You were out of practice. Following me on my reckless nighttime patrols, that was kind. More than kind. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, for risking your life to protect mine.”

“I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“And yet I owe you mine nonetheless.”

“I can’t go back in there, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tolerate you and your friends hating me just fine. But if any of your friends give me even an ounce of pity- well, we’ll see just where the limits of my kindness lie, won’t we?”

Thomas stood up, offering Alastair his hand. “Pity comes from those who cannot even begin to understand what you’ve experienced. For what it’s worth, I don’t think my friends will pity you. But if they do, you can ignore them. For Lucie.”

Alastair sighed and allowed Thomas to pull him to his feet. “Fine. Let’s get back to reading.”

“Speaking of reading, do you have the entirety of Shakespeare’s canon memorized, or only the lines you believe may pop up in conversation?”

“Excuse me?”

“‘For you and I are past our dancing days,’ it’s Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it? It’s the only one of his works that I got through.”

Alastair froze. “You haven’t read Hamlet?”

“I tried.”

“Othello? King Lear? Macbeth? Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He shook his head.

“That’s impossible. And James is friends with you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wait until my sister finds out you haven’t read Hamlet,” he warned, starting towards the library with urgency in his step.

“Wait, don’t- I just don’t like Shakespeare! What’s so wrong with that?” Thomas’ attempts at reasoning were futile, however, a welcome distraction from all of their recent sorrows finally taking hold.

Thanks for reading!! This was self indulgent af lol. I'm not to sure whether some people only wanted to be tagged in my social media AU, so if that's the case I'm sorry & please tell me!: @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @thecodexsays @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @icouldnotask @shadowhunting-hooligans @melanielocke @clarys-heosphoros @kiwichaeng @lightwoodsimp @thecrimsonsorceresss @theenchanteddreamer @adams-left-hand @yozinha-z @ipromiseiwillwrite @skirtsandsweaters @goodoldfashionednerd

[anna-kendrick]

holding my breath ('til i can say all of the words i wanna say)

Beca goes home with Chloe for thanksgiving.

For @beca-mitchell​

Read on AO3, or below.

Chloe regrets asking the moment it comes out of her mouth.

“Come home with me.”

It's not that she doesn't want to bring Beca—her wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year—home to visit her family, it's more the fact of how do you tell your wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year that you didn't actually tell your parents that you two were dating because they're homophobic.

Yeah, she has a slight problem.

Chloe wasn't even sure if Beca would even say yes to begin with. It's her third year at Barden, and her third thanksgiving that she'd be spending on campus. Rather than taking a trip back to Seattle to visit her mother, Beca had explained that she prefers her alone time in the comfort of her room, away from all the reminders of her rocky childhood. Chloe gets it.

But more selfishly than not wanting to leave her girlfriend back in Atlanta alone—aka with most of the Bellas and very much not alone—Chloe didn't want to spend a week away from Beca. That's what brings them to this very moment.

Beca’s clearly taken aback by the question, and Chloe finds the slight blush that's creeping across her cheeks absolutely adorable.

“You're serious?” This is her out, Chloe thinks. Make it sound less appealing, tell her the truth, or just completely take back the offer and—

“Totes serious.” Well fuck.

The smug grin that grows on Beca’s face is enough to vanish all her worries for the moment. Chloe’s quick to reflect one back as Beca pulls her in for a kiss, a version of a ‘yes’ in her own, sweet language.

When Beca mumbles an “I love you,” against her lips, Chloe feels her knees go weak.

***

She doesn't bring it up.

It's sitting in the back of her mind at all times in the weeks following, but she doesn't bring it up.

Beca's seemingly excited to go on this trip to Portland. She says she's never been, and Chloe finds herself looking forward to showing her all of the places where she grew up. She ignores it when Beca tells her that she's excited to see her parents again, and jokingly teases her that she thinks they like her better.

Beca really has no idea.

It's on their final descent when Chloe realizes her mistake. She feels Beca’s hand squeeze in her own, looking over to see her wearing a soft smile—one of comfort and warmth—as if Beca could read her mind. She wishes it were true, it would make things so much easier.

But Beca simply mouths ‘you’re okay,’ and attributes Chloe’s nervous energy to flight anxiety. That’s truly the least of her worries right now, honestly the plane crashing to the ground seems like it could be a better scenario to what she’s going to have to do. Easier, and chances are less painful, too.

Beca squeezes her hand again, waiting for Chloe to squeeze back—their own little form of communication, a way for Chloe to say ‘I’m okay,’ without saying it aloud. Chloe shakes herself from her morbid thoughts, and kisses Beca’s cheek instead, before nuzzling herself into Beca’s shoulder. She feels herself relax slightly as Beca drops her head onto hers, and lets out a quiet hum.

She knows she's messed up. She goes over all the possible outcomes in her head as she watches other passengers deboard the plane. It's the one where she breaks Beca’s trust, and her heart that sticks out the most to her.

Beca never lets go of her hand as they walk off the plane. Chloe can hear her speaking, probably talking about all the new music ideas she thought of on their long flight over, but she can't make out any of the words—she's too lost in her own mind.

“Chlo?” She’s snapped out of her non stop reel of scenarios when Beca stops in place, tilting her head in concern. Beca knows her so well, it makes her want to cry. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She lies, and offers a smile. It seems to satisfy Beca, who grins back and squeezes her hand again gently before going to resume their trail to the baggage claim.

This is it. She has to do it.

“Bec, wait—” Her voice catches in her throat when Beca looks back, eyes full of questions and concern—so patient and so loving. She thinks she might throw up.

She lets go of Beca’s hand.

“They don't know you’re my girlfriend. Please don't tell them, I’m sorry.” Chloe takes a deep breath, fighting back her tears, because God forbid she cries in the middle of this damn airport.

One glance at Beca’s face and her heart feels like it's being crushed inside her chest. She can't say anything else, she can't even look at her.

“Um— Our bags, lets go get our bags.”

***

They meet Chloe’s parents outside of the airport about a half hour later, the silence that had been deafening between her and Beca finally breaking.

Alice greets Beca with a smile and a tight hug. “We’re so happy Chloe was able to talk you into coming home with her.”

“She didn’t have to say much, I’m glad to be here. Thanks for letting me stay with you guys.” Beca says it so sincerely, it only makes Chloe feel worse.

“Please, Beca, you know you’re a part of the family. You can visit anytime, even without this one here.” Dale points to Chloe, giving Beca a wink and one of his signature Beale smiles. Beca giggles and looks over to her Chloe with a soft smile.

Chloe turns to look out the window instead.

The drive to the Beale family home is longer than Chloe remembers—louder too, as her dad sings along obnoxiously to the songs on the radio, and her thoughts continue to echo inside of her head. Beca’s more silent than usual though, and Chloe takes the risk of glancing over to check on her.

Beca’s the one peering out the window now, headphones plugged in as she listens to her own music. It almost makes Chloe smile, just seeing Beca next to her, as they drive through her hometown. The feeling is fleeting however, as Chloe takes note of Beca chewing the skin on her thumb—a nervous habit most likely brought on by all of the shit Chloe sprung on her at the airport. She wants nothing more than to reach over and pull her hand away, entangle their fingers together and squeeze Beca’s hand tightly.

She meets her mothers gaze in the mirror, and immediately realizes how bad of an idea this was.

***

It’s later that night—after Chloe had spent ten minutes convincing, more like begging, her mother to let Beca sleep in her room upstairs and not in the basement

(“It’s freezing down there. I’ll just make a bed for myself on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chloe.”)

—that Beca finally broaches the subject.

“Chloe?” She hears Beca whisper through the dark. She lays silently, debating whether or not she should answer, or pretend to be asleep and hope that Beca lets it go—she already knows what she's about to ask.

“Baby, I know you're awake.” She could insist that she is asleep—continue to hold her breath and fight back the tears that are already pricking from behind her eyelids—but she knows that Beca knows her better than anyone else, knows that Beca’s worried about her from the way that her hand now softly brushes through her hair.

“Chlo—”

“Yeah, I'm awake.” Chloe whispers, rolling around to face her girlfriend. She feels the guilt swirl in her stomach immediately with just one look at the sad eyes in front of her.

She knew it was coming, but when Beca mumbles “Why didn't you tell them? I—I don't mean to pry, I’m sorry, I just—Are you okay?” tears immediately spill from her eyes, and she has to choke back the sob that threatens to come out.

It makes her heart clench to think about how far her and Beca have come since that day at the activities fair. It had taken so long to get Beca to open up to her, to even just accept a hug from her. It makes her sick to think about how disappointed her parents would be if they walked in on the two of them at this moment—their daughter wrapped up in her girlfriends arms as Beca continues to rub her back soothingly.

She feels so fucking guilty. A disappointment to both her family, and towards the woman she loves. She hates herself for it.

Beca's hands feel so soft against her cheeks as she holds them and lightly brushes her tears away. It's dark in the room, but she can still clearly make out Beca’s features in the moonlight that spills in from the window. Beca looks beautiful, she looks sad, but she’s so beautiful.

“I didn't know how to tell you.” Her voice sounds unrecognizable to her own ears, it's raspy with tears, and she can hear the lie within her own speech. It's not that she didn't know how to, it's that she didn't want to.

How was she supposed to tell her best friend—her girlfriend—that her parents would hate her? How was she supposed to explain that yes, they had met her before and treated her like a second daughter, but as soon as they found out Beca was more than just a friend, they'd look at her with pure disgust and detest? How was she supposed to bring that up in a conversation where Beca’s telling her that her father has been putting more effort in, that he's happy for the two of them and that he’d like to have both over for dinner one night?

She's never wanted Beca to feel as if she was a secret, that their blooming relationship was something that Chloe was ashamed of. And now, Chloe doesn't even know why she invited Beca here in the first place, because while reserved, Beca’s the proudest of their relationship, and she can see it in her face right now how much she's hurting.

Chloe knows it's her fault.

“I'm not mad at you.” Beca's smiling softly at her—a sad smile—one of encouragement, or one to try to deter the situation, because she knows that Chloe’ll be upset if Beca shows that she’s upset, Chloe doesn't know. She doesn’t really care either, she just wants to go home. Atlanta home, away from this life she had so happily left behind.

What she does know, is that Beca is one of the most patient, and selfless people she's ever met. She knows she doesn't have to say anything, that she could simply ignore the situation entirely, tell Beca that she's tired, and it'd get dropped. She knows Beca wouldn't push her if she wasn't ready to tell her.

But she also knows that Beca deserves an answer.

“They would hate me if they found out, Bec.” She realizes that it's been a while since she admitted this dark secret of hers aloud. Not since her first year at Barden, when she confided in Aubrey over a bottle of cheap wine.

“It's not that I'm not proud to be with you, I promise. It's just that— I’m scared to lose them. I don't want to lose you, but I can't lose them either, Beca. I'm so sorry.”

She's crying again—she doesn't know if she ever really stopped—but Beca’s soft lips are soon pressed against hers; familiar, comforting, safe.

“You'd never lose me.” Beca whispers against her lips in between kisses, and it's like a blanket of warmth courses through Chloe’s body. It's still crazy to her how in the midst of feeling so sad and confused, Beca can make her feel so loved, make her thoughts that had just moments ago felt so jumbled, suddenly so clear.

“I will tell them.” She states, breaking apart from Beca’s kiss, nodding her head in affirmation.

“You don't have to.”

“I will. Eventually, I will. Maybe not this week, but one day I will.” And Beca’s smile in response is enough for her to know that she’s supported, that Beca will hold her hand through it all.

“I think you're really brave, Chloe.” She doesn't expect that as a response, and she's ready to open her mouth and argue against Beca’s words—tell her that she doesn't feel brave at all—but Beca beats her to it. “No, you really are, and it's one of the things I love most about you. Thank you for telling me.”

There’s something about Beca Mitchell that Chloe finds so captivating. Perhaps it’s the way she smiles so genuinely and so lovingly at her, before she breaks out into a cheeky grin and pulls Chloe back in for another kiss. Maybe it’s the trust that she seems to give Chloe unconditionally, something that she’s seen Beca struggle with so much over the course of knowing her. Beca’s passion, loyalty, determination… Perhaps it’s just Beca’s big heart, that tends to tug on her own, and make her feel weak in the knees.

“You know I love you, right?” Chloe can tell Beca’s getting tired by the pure laziness that’s beginning to leak into her kisses, her heavy hands that are no longer roaming, but holding her close and still against her.

“You’ve told me a few times. I love you, too. I’m fucking exhausted, your family is insane. Sorry that was—”

“Bec, it’s okay.” Chloe laughs softly squeezing Beca’s hand that continues to lay softly on her hip. “They really are, you’re right. But I have you, I think I’m pretty lucky.”

“Oh, my God—you’re gross. So gross. Go to sleep or I’m moving down to the basement.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

[blush-and-books]

sun's gone // but you always liked this time of day

angsty, hurt/comfort with a happy ending, juke canonverse. title from Place In Me by Luke Hemmings. special shoutout to my dear @unsaid-emily who loves this lyric as much as i do.

warnings: luke is just going through a lot and its scientifically proven that anger destroys brain cells so just be ready

----

Finding out that Rose's death day was on the same day as his mom's birthday was... Not easy, for Luke.

Him and Julie both mourning different things. Both of them felt different things surrounding their mom situations, and Luke knew that his job as Julie's "Luke" was to be there for her. He had been there for Reggie when his dad was leaving home every night to go sleep wherever his mom wasn't, and when Alex's parents turned into apathetic losers post-coming out.

He should be a master at all of this parent shit.

Unfortunately, there's a difference between losing love for or from your parents, and losing that parent to a force out of your control. Luke was used to the tension that was easy to complain about; to criticizing what his friends' families were doing wrong.

From how Julie talks about her, it doesn't sound like Rose Molina was doing anything wrong.

He can't help the way that rage smolders in a deep pit of his stomach. He hates that Julie's sad, and he hates that he didn't have a mom like Rose Molina, and he hates that the universe was cruel enough to give his favorite person such a wonderful mother and take her away before Julie was even an adult.

Sometimes, especially today, he's reminded of the hate he felt for his mom. When he was fifteen and wrote her a real song, one of his first when he started to improve his writing skills, and he could see the twitch in her eye of disdain.

That night, she told him to start looking at jobs. He was old enough, after all.

He went to the closest place he could find - a local diner - picked up an application, and cried.

She didn't care about his art; she didn't realize how his art meant more than anything he could buy with money. What was starting to sting was the fact that she probably would never care. And as he got older, she made it increasingly clear, and...

Yeah. Emily's birthdays were bitter.

Luke was bitter.

Julie was depressed.

He went to see her that day, it was a Saturday, and tried to talk to her. His hand softly ran up and down her side as she curled under the comforter, and when she invited him under the blankets he gratefully accepted the invitation.

Maybe Julie, the girl that made them whole again, could heal this little extra wound, too.

They talk. Julie cries; he avoids it.

"It's just really hard to be without her, you know? Sometimes shit just happens and it feels like a time she needs to be here, and she's not, and I don't know what to do."

Luke misses feeling like that. But it stopped about a month after he left home.

"Well, I mean, I've gone this long without a mom, and I'm fine. You can live without her. You're gonna be fine."

He says it with the same apathetic tone he always uses when he shifts into Emily-mode, and it isn't supposed to be like that, but it is.

Painfully.

And his mistake is obvious when Julie's frowning lips part open in horror, and her eyes are welling fresh with tears that illuminate the red around her irises.

Carelessly, with his eyes wide open, he's torn her apart.

Under the comforter, he feels cold. Even Julie's body next to him feels cold, and-

"Julie-"

"Get out. Please."

"I'm sor-"

"Luke, please- Leave me alone."

When Luke finally sobs, he's alone. It's dark outside and the garage is empty because the boys respect that it's a rough day for many people in this household, but the sadness and anger overcome him until he's opening his mouth to scream and nothing comes out, and when he's so dehydrated that his body is void of any tears, he sits on the couch with a damp face and plucks the chords of Emily's birthday song from 27 years ago.

He tries not to feel the numbing depression very often. But you can only push down such strong emotions for so long before they choose to ignore your fighting attempts.

Julie made it easier to battle the fury he felt towards his mom. That woman will always have a grasp on him, a place in him - probably because he never properly processed it. He's stuck with all of it now. The internal playlists of songs that remind him of how mad he is or sad he is, for him to listen to whenever his temper towards Emily seethes.

Tonight, he doesn't have a choice but to face it.

----

The next morning, there's a note for him.

Please give me the day to myself.

No author claims their identity, but the loopy "y" is a dead giveaway that Julie wrote it, let alone the content. His chest does that shitty thing where his ribs feel as though they are compressing against his lungs and breathing is hard.

He feels like that all day, but he still waits.

But he barely makes it to sunset before he is poofing to the hallway and standing before her bedroom, fist raised to knock.

The sunset was pretty tonight. He hopes she enjoyed it. Her favorite time of day is dusk, when the air only feels fresher because it carries a chill with it, and the world begins to slow down.

Luke knocks.

Julie answers.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out before she has the chance to interrupt or he has the chance to say something stupid. "What I said- That was my stupid, stupid anger at my mom. It was her birthday yesterday." Julie looks surprised to hear this, of course she didn't know, but she doesn't say anything.

"I don't know what it's like to go through what you did. I wanted to support you yesterday, and I didn't, and I know that. My feelings got the better of me, and that isn't fair. And I am so, so sorry, Julie."

She remains still in front of him, but only for a beat. Eventually, she moves aside, wordlessly, and stares at him expectantly.

He takes exactly four steps inside, and plants his feet once again.

"It's not stupid," is the first thing she says. Her voice has a piercing edge to it that he rarely hears, and he hates it, but stays quiet. "How you feel about your mom. Don't call it stupid. I don't think it's stupid."

She takes a deep breath. A tear slips through her lashes.

"But what you said was really fucking insensitive. All I needed from you was to be there and hold me and let me ride this wave, not try to relate or compare our problems. How would you feel if I tried to guilt you for running away because 'at least you had a mom'?"

Shitty. He'd feel shitty, because they are two different situations and she has no right to speak on something that she hasn't gone through.

He answers with that, verbatim. And he throws in another apology for good measure, making it clear that he understands where he went wrong.

"Good. You understand. Thank you."

Her eyebrows twist together. It's a tell that she wants to say something too.

"If you ever need to talk about your mom, you know I'm here for it. I didn't know her birthday was yesterday."

Understanding, he nods. He didn't tell her it was Emily's birthday, because the day was supposed to be about Rose, and then it wasn't.

"Thank you."

The two of them fall silent.

Luke doesn't want to leave, but feels like he should; Julie hasn't asked him to leave, but he doubts she wants him to stay.

They're just two kids with gaps in their hearts, left by the absence of their mothers.

Sometimes - all the time - Luke feels Julie filling that gap. Not as a mom, of course, but as another person; someone to love him and support him and make him happy.

Emily might not ever go away in his head. But Julie Molina, over anyone, will always have a place in his heart, in his head, and in his soul.

She's just magic like that.

So magic that she finds it in herself to step forward, and he is roped in by her gravitational pull, and they're falling into each other's arms.

Luke imagines that if he ever went to a heaven instead of coming back to the modern day, that this, Julie's arms around him, is the feeling that would greet him at that end.

Everything feels better here.

----

tags: @bluefirewrites @lydias--stiles @sylphrenas @wlwcarries @ruzek-halstead @willexx @sirena-de-lunas @babydagger28 @phantomsandsunsets

[writing-in-april]

Tiny Vessels

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer is done trying to lie to himself about his true feelings in his relationship, but not done lying to Reader.

A/N: IM BACK!!! So as y’all know I got really sick towards the end of my 30 fics in 30 days event- I’m still going to release the last few fics I missed (and we’re all just gonna pretend it’s still April 😂) this one was requested by @zhuzhubii it’s actually my second song fic and is based on the song tiny vessels. I’m actually super proud of this one and I’m happy to get back into the swing of things with writing 🥰 Also my 1500 follower celebration will likely wait until I finish up the backlog of fics so I don’t overwhelm myself! Feel free to leave me an ask here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Toxic relationship, Lying about feelings and intentions, Brief illusions to sex, Using someone only for their body

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.3k

The moment I knew, had been a long time coming. It had been just after post coital bliss had faded around me, reality creeping in on the sides as it tried to take hold of me. It had been trying to tell me something, something I had denied for so long. No amount of tossing and turning would banish the slowly creeping in thoughts that attempted to plague my mind. If I had turned and tossed anymore, my partner right beside me would ask what was wrong, and I knew I couldn’t answer it. At least I couldn’t answer it honestly without tearing down what we had built up for ourselves. I never had much that I say I built myself, and even though the foundation was about to cave in, I wouldn’t take the sledgehammer to it myself.

I remember when I told them the first time I told them ‘I love you’. It had been an almost identical situation to where we were now. Two people, naked underneath the sheets, so close physically yet so far emotionally, though I covered that up with my honeyed words of promise.

I always wanted to believe the words I spoke to them, the promises I gave them. Each time I choked out the words, dripping in sentiment and sap I tricked them, and myself into believing them.

Unlike my counterpart I couldn’t fully escape into ignorant bliss. They didn’t know, but I knew deep down everytime I burst open their door after coming home from a rough case. We moved through the dark almost every time, as it was the only time I was available, and it hid my pained expressions pretty well.

All the friends I was telling about our relationship were even convinced too, though I could see a sneaking suspicion crop up in Emily’s eyes every once and a while when I mentioned them. I didn’t tell them the reality, the one that I avoided myself.

It was all for the flesh, nothing of substance lurked underneath, at least for me. Every bite I gave them left a mark, tiny vessels able to be seen creeping up on their skin even in the dark. I claimed them even if I didn’t let them be mine; they could never claim me. They had said they didn’t want those marks to fade, but they inevitably did, showing how hollow my words had been before I nipped at their skin. Once I realized how they faded, how non committed the marks were on their skin, I faded too. I still indulged in the pleasures they freely wanted to give me, but I let my words remain hollow, accepting their meaning without admitting it out loud.

And you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me.

Their beauty was unparalleled, it always had been to me. Time and realization had not changed that thought in my mind, though I had lied to myself about the depth of those thoughts. Every brushed touch against their body sent me into a blaze, though it took too long for me to admit that that was the only thing about them I thought about at night.

Their giggle did not make my chest feel light, and our conversations that edged on deep discussions only stimulated my mind because I forced it. Their moans and the softness of their skin were what made me call them at the dead of night, masking it by saying ‘I missed you’. I would then inevitably pivot away from talking about our feelings so I could hear their moans through the speaker of my old phone I only kept around for work, and to call them.

All I see are dark grey clouds now, ruining whatever utopia I had crafted in my mind once I had come to conclude what my real feelings were. If I was honest with myself, it had been lingering at the back of my mind for months now. By now the lie was too hard to escape, and their body felt too good underneath me to let go.

It was vile, and it was cheap of me to trick them for so long into believing that the words whispered into their skin in the dead of night held any true emotion. A kiss on their bare shoulder with a soft rasp of how much they meant to me. Kisses that had been given along the slopes of their pretty face with little whispers of ‘I love you’ in between before I had met their lips with mine.

Another kiss, the last one placed on their forehead given to them after I had promised to bring them the world. And they were all vile, and cheap lies.

Yeah, you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me

My thoughts swirled as I continued to stare at them, boring holes into their skin just from my gaze. Guilt nipped at my heels each time another harsh reality tried to slap me across the face, trying to get me to stop trapping them in something I already knew was hollow at its core. Denial was easy when no one else was calling me out for it; something in me almost wanted them to say it, to leave so I would be able to stop living this pathetic lie.

At some point they had sensed my eyes on their body, then looking over at me. Their lips turned downward into a frown, probably after successfully reading the expression on my face. Normally whenever I fixed my gaze on them it was out of admiration, unfortunately if I was going to be honest with myself, it was never because of what lies beneath. I couldn’t force myself to look any deeper than their body.

Too bad being a profiler hadn’t given me the ability to be a good liar, and I wondered if they had figured out long ago that my promises intermingled with kisses were a thinly veiled lie. Maybe they were lying to themselves still.

In the distance, my guilt moved closer every hour.

It would soon swallow me up whole, consuming me when they asked a simple question, “Is something wrong?”

My breath got caught up tight in my chest, my shame welling up so high up it stole my voice for a moment. In the moment that passed, they cocked their head to the side in question innocently. It was almost as if they were mocking the feelings eating at me, showing me how much I was missing by not developing true feelings for them. Damn, right there’s something wrong, but I won’t speak it out loud to let you know.

I felt disgusted with myself, and all I could wonder is if they felt the same way as I did. Wondering did nothing to ease the guilt inside, even as I tried to justify what I was doing.

It would be easier in some regards to come clean about what I was doing, to face the guilt head on. I was a creature of habit however, and hiding in the corners of my mind was one of the things I did best.

So, no we won’t talk about it, because I wouldn’t tell them. I leaned forward to kiss them on the lips, another promise to never let them go that was filled with nothing but lies. The kiss seemed to banish any worry that they still held in the crease of their forehead, their head was now cocked to the side to slant their lips across mine instead.

It was our last kiss of the night, before they went back to their own apartment tonight. My hands roamed up their sides, mapping out every dip and curve with my fingers. It was what I really cherished about them, even if it did make me sick on the inside. Though, I didn’t feel sick enough to say anything more, and I let them go, both of us pretending that it was something more. And, the only reason we were allowed to pretend was because I would not divulge the true reason I gave them those tiny vessels on their neck.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join):

Strike through means tumblr won’t let me tag you- check your privacy settings

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @multixfandomwriter @takeyourleap-of-faith @sydneekomspacekru

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty @nomajdetective @go2sleepdummy

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

[myketheartista]

The Masquerade: How They Came To Be

This is a small headcanon type of thing that I thought of the morning after the stream, so I’m obviously obsessed with these two so much to the point where I made lore for how Sir Billiam and his butler met. To make things easier on myself, I just called the butler Ranboo since I didn’t want to mess too much with canon by giving him a new name. 

***Warnings: Light violence, mentions of killing/death, manipulation (from the egg, but just thought I’d include it just in case)***

**Please remember that this is not canon. I took some liberties and assumed a few things based on prior knowledge. Oh, and don’t take things out of context. This is NOT shipping, and I’m putting this here because I know some people will question the way I write them interacting. I don’t condone any shipping with Ranboo or Techno, and that goes for any and all characters they play.

Please enjoy! And leave your thoughts if you’d like :)

Billiam finds the egg. Builds the mansion around it to keep it safe and hidden because it seems like something bizarre enough that could earn him a good sum of money. Sell pieces of it, get rich, live a long, good life swimming in wealth.

He wants to see what it does too, but the more time he spends with it, the more corrupts his mind becomes. Soft whispers that scratch at the walls of his head, telling him to give-- give himself, give others, just give to the egg. And in the beginning stages, it isn’t so bad. He just sees the egg as something valuable. Value slowly transitions into a sort of obsession. He must protect it, feed it, take care of it so no one else will hurt it. If he helps the egg, it’ll help him.

So when he finds a young boy wandering through the endless sea of trees surrounding his estate, he grows a bit defensive. It’s just some random kid, an inch or two shorter than Billiam with messy chocolate brown hair and a dazed look in his eyes (Oh, and he’s definitely lower than a commoner, just look at the mess he is!). Tattered clothes, no shoes, patches of dirt dusting his face and hands; he’s an awful sight. But a peculiar one at best with the notable pointed ears and extra set of canines fitted snug next to the original pair. Whatever he is, Billiam knows that he isn’t a threat, and he can recognize that much through the fog clouding his brain telling him to get rid of this unwelcomed stranger. More than anything, he pities him, and a frown crosses his lips when he tries to get some answers out of the kid, but he’s met with a confused tilt of the head and awkward silence. Well, by observing his overall condition, Billiam concludes that he has no where to go.

So...he takes him in. Not because he cares! He really shouldn’t and doesn’t care for someone of such low status, but seeing Ranboo scarf down a whole plate of whatever Billiam could find along with some cake and a few glasses of water makes him feel a bit uneasy...about- about how much food he can eat, yes, of course. If he’s going to be staying here, he can’t go around eating everything they have. He’ll have to set some ground rules for this new guest. Such as throwing out those old clothes and giving him one of his own dress shirts and a well-made vest he never ended up wearing. Ranboo asks him for help with his tie much too often, and that’s something that should aggravate him, (inability to do anything on his own, how annoying) but he finds himself walking Ranboo through the process each time he’s called for. All the while, as he helps this kid learn the ropes and shows him around, those harsh whispers demand he stop. Get rid of him. He stares at Ranboo, the boy who can’t even speak the language of this planet, can’t remember where he came from, hates eye contact and taking showers, doesn’t even know what he is, and he wonders how the egg could even tell him to kill someone as innocent as him.

Billiam decides he’ll be his butler. Ranboo doesn’t protest since he doesn’t even know what a butler is, but he agrees without complaint. Some conversation over dinner that turned into a fake contract that neither of them signed, but Billiam made the deal that Ranboo can stay if he does his part which was simply obeying him when he asked for the butler. This...quickly got out of hand. Whenever there’s a party and a handful of guests crowd through the front doors, Billiam makes it known that he has a butler, and a very bad one at that. Calls him in that sing-song voice and requests he fetch their new arrivals some wine only to degrade him and claim he’s going a week without food afterwards. Ranboo really doesn’t mind, partially because he can’t even refuse or talk back due to the limitations of his knowledge of the unfamiliar language of this place, but he’s also become a bit dedicated to serving Billiam. The man practically saved his life and gave him everything he could want. When he is allowed to speak, he’s always asking how many words since that’ll guide him towards forming a more accurate sentence with letters and syllables he’s not used to. More often than not, he sticks to humming his responses to make it easier on himself. Even then, there’s not much to worry about. He’s bad with social interaction and the guests rarely pay attention to him, so he often hides in the corner as they all participate in their games and conversations regarding the economy. The more he excludes himself, the more he misses the frequent disappearances of the guests. He never questions Billiam where they went, why they left so early into the evening, why the mansion has terrible lighting problems, (they should get that fixed, it’s quite troublesome) he just enjoys the eventual peace and quiet that fills their home once everyone is gone. 

The parties increase throughout the months that Ranboo resides there. It’s exhausting being a butler when all he’s required to do is follow people’s orders-- how does Billiam do it? He’s the one who hosts them, greets everyone, plans the festivities and everything. He should ask him about that sometime. Instead of pestering him, he finds himself watching from the stairs as Billiam catches up with yet another group of friends. Hm...why doesn’t he just invite the same people over? Being rich must make you a lot of friends. But these people seem snobby and annoying. Ranboo doesn’t like them very much. He prefers to stay the way he is, and if that means he remains a “commoner”, then so be it. Billiam, on the other hand, doesn’t mind stepping into a new character every time he hosts one of these masquerades. The weird airy sound to his voice makes him appear friendlier, more trustworthy, but it always makes Ranboo put a fist to his mouth to stifle his laughter. It’s utterly ridiculous and almost childish, but it’s entertaining nonetheless.

He enjoys the soft conversations they share in their far too big of a home when things are back to normal (And when did he start calling it their home?). They usually pass the time by Ranboo asking questions and Billiam responding to the best of his ability which makes him seem smarter than he probably is. But for someone who can’t seem to remember where they came from or how to communicate, Ranboo is grateful for anything Billiam can give him.

So one night, when he thinks they’ve grown close enough to where Ranboo can consider them friends, he wanders the mansion to find Billiam-- wants to ask him something, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s been months since he’s lived here, and he thinks he knows every nook and cranny of the mansion but…the longer he stares at that duplicate of a spider painting Billiam apparently commissioned someone to make despite the same painting hanging just a few feet over, he starts to feel an itch in the back of his mind. And when he finds the courage to move it aside, finds a secret entrance to a room he’s never seen before, he’s honestly baffled. The atmosphere of the room makes him feel off, and that itch starts to grow, manifests into a voice trying to peel through his thoughts and gain control. It makes him feel...uncomfortable…wrong. And when he sees Billiam standing at the end of the room, back facing him while he stares at a large red mass with vines trailing off of it, up the walls and across the floor tangling around Billiam’s feet, that discomfort shifts to something a little colder. He wanders into the room with light feet and a dry mouth, struggling to get his voice to work.

“Sir?”

The word doesn’t feel as foreign as other words do since it’s the one thing he’s gotten the hang of saying. He sees the visible tension build in Billiam’s shoulders and watches him turn around slowly to look at him, a chill trickling down his spine when he spots the sword in his hand. He gets no response, just a rather lifeless stare from Billiam. He speaks up again.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

It’s as if he was stuck in some sort of trance cause in an instant, a soft smile breaks out onto Billiam’s face and he gestures at Ranboo.

“What wonderful timing! Come closer, I’d like to show you something.”

Ranboo feels strange, but he pushes down the crippling sensation of dread pooling in his stomach and walks up to settle next to Billiam. He feels the light touch of a hand on his back, tensing up as he stares at the oddly shaped...something before them.

“What is this?”

Billiam looks so giddy when he hears the question.

“It’s the egg.”

And Ranboo breaks away from the “egg” to stare at Billiam.

“Pardon?”

Billiam looks at him, and it’s now that Ranboo notices the glint in his eye, the way his once brown irises swirl with red, and the look he gives him reminds him of the expression he wore when they first met.

Pity.

“My dear butler, it’s the egg! It’s a truly magnificent thing, is it not?”

And Ranboo can only stare awkwardly between the egg and the man who he’s lived with all of his life because what the hell is he going on about?

“I, uh,... I don’t seem to understand.”

Billiam’s expression softens, still holding that little ounce of pity that Ranboo has begun to dislike.

“You’ll understand soon enough. Come.”

And the hand on his back gently pushes him forward, guiding him as they walk, and Ranboo feels his heels involuntarily drag against the stone floor, putting up some resistance. That pool of dread begins to manifest into something else. An icy, prickling puddle of fear. Billiam is putting himself behind him as Ranboo draws closer to the egg, and the whispering only grows louder, clawing at his brain and sending a jolt of pain to his skull as it screams at him. It’s becoming too much, it hurts, but Billiam’s hand seems to latch onto the back of his vest, twisting and pushing him downwards just inches from the egg to where he’s on his knees and his hands are planted on the cold concrete below him. He realizes, as goosebumps trail up his arms and his eyes begin to sting, that he’s never quite felt fear before up until now. He doesn’t like it too much. All he can do is stare at the red in front of him, watch as the little vines underneath his hands sprout up from the cracks of the floor and curl around his fingers. The grip on his vest tightens, and he’s painfully reminded who’s doing this to him.

“Do you hear it?”

He just nods, exhaling shakily and struggling to take in any air as the panic settles inside of his chest.

“It’s loud.” He voice wavers as it comes out weak and afraid, and he hears Billiam hum, pleased with the answer.

“What’s it saying?”

And he can’t respond because he doesn’t know, it’s speaking a language he’s never heard, he can’t translate it. He feels the urge to hurt, to kill, to follow, to obey, feels fingers digging into his brain and pulling him forward as if he understands what it’s saying after all, but it all seems like gibberish to him. He feels nothing but everything at once. The grip on his vest tugs lightly, and he swallows thickly.

“I...I don’t know.” 

He can practically feel the disappointment radiating off of Billiam when he gives the answer, and he suddenly regrets saying anything at all. He hears Billiam shift and the grip loosens by just a hair.

“Is he not worthy?” Billiam mutters to himself, but…it sounds like it’s directed to someone. Some thing. Ranboo doesn’t know, but it’s said so quietly and sounds…sad. After a few seconds of silence and Ranboo watching those tiny red vines curiously curl even more around his fingers and onto his hand in an attempt to travel up his wrist, he feels the hand leave his back. A sigh escapes him, and he goes to push himself off of the ground to sit on his knees, but a sharp pain quickly replaces the hand, breaking through the layers of fabric and grazing the skin of his back. A strangled noise crawls out of his throat and he ducks his head, trying to arch his back away from the tip of the sword angled towards him.

“Sir?” He sounds so pathetic, so desperate, he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions but he feels like he’s about to be killed by the man who took him in and that’s certainly not settling well in his stomach. Billiam remains silent and that’s what scares him because silence doesn’t seem like a good thing, especially in a situation such as this. The silence lasts for what seems like minutes, but he hears a frustrated huff come from behind him and the sword disappears from his back right when he thinks it’ll slip through him.

“Stand up.”

Ranboo is quick to obey, ignoring the trembling in his legs and wringing his hands together to calm the light shaking that’s taken over them. He hesitantly turns to look at Billiam who’s staring back at him with those red eyes that seem a bit duller this time around. He wants to back away when Billiam moves towards him, but his feet refuse to move and a hand comes down on his shoulder, gentle and somewhat comforting despite the situation.

“You don’t feel anything?”

It seems like he’s desperate now, looking for an answer that will settle the uncertainty bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, and red eyes beginning to lose their glow. Somewhat back to normal. Ranboo pauses for a long moment, hesitant, terrified, legs shaking and throat closing up at the thought of what Billiam will do if he receives an answer he isn’t particularly fond of.

“...No.”

It takes his entire body to force the word out because even though he was on his knees moments ago, pleading that he’d wake up, that this was just a very intense dream where everything felt too real for his liking, somewhere deep down he believes Billiam won’t be mad and kill him right where he stands. That expression only reassures him because it’s coming from the only person he knows to trust.

Billiam sighs again and looks down, a bit defeated, maybe even confused because what is he to do now? He can’t even go through with sacrificing this kid he’s grown a damn attachment to and that’s a problem. If he isn’t the one to admit it, the egg is there to remind him. His hand slides down Ranboo’s arm, hanging limply by his side as his voice grows quiet.

“Do you trust me?”

And Ranboo doesn’t have anything else to say but the immediate “Yes.” that follows. Billiam looks up at him, a bit surprised but gaze a tad softer than it was before.

“What was your name again?”

Ranboo’s hands wring together some more, and he mindlessly picks at the vines that have embedded themselves into his skin. He goes to speak, but his tongue falls differently against the roof of his mouth and clicks against his teeth in a way that Billiam won’t understand. And even though that ends up being true, Billiam still smiles at him and a trickle of warmth spreads throughout Ranboo’s chest.

“Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine.”

Ranboo can’t find it in him to defy what Billiam says.

So when he gives him the sword and tells him to kill the guests that enter their home, he does so without question. He follows his commands as gentle as they are, and he listens to the garbled whispering brushing the edges of his mind. And if his eyes appear a bit redder when he goes to look in the mirror, he doesn’t bring it up to Billiam. He still picks at those little red vines that have melded into his skin as he watches the larger vines of the egg curl around the bodies he’s dragged to this secret room, hidden away from any curious eyes. And throughout the ruthless killings and Ranboo’s slow descent into madness, Billiam continues to treat him the same way, apologizing later on for the small scar on his back. He simply shrugs the apology off and gives him a smile, dragging…what was his name again? James? The name rings a bell, but he disregards the vague feeling of guilt crawling its way into his chest and continues to drag him away by the legs.

Even when he goes back to get Karl and sees the edges of his body disintegrating into little white speckles of what looks like dust, he doesn’t question it or show Billiam. Delivers his body to the egg regardless of whatever strange deterioration Karl’s body was undergoing. Another party, another meal for the egg. As long as Billiam is happy, so is his loyal butler.

[jaskiersvalley]

I just died laughing over ur last ficlet with geraskier as demons seducing each other. The set up was so good. And the ending *chef's kiss* 😂😂😂

The demon AU was a lot of fun to write and I wish I had a follow-up to that story. Alas, that seems to be a standalone story. However, I can offer you some idiots being, well, idiots.

It was just Eskel’s luck that he got to a village only to hear that the contract had already been snatched up by another witcher. Still, he was in a village with a tavern that had music and a bard who seemed to be whipping the crowd into a merry frenzy so Eskel risked staying for a drink and some food. If the other witcher objected to his presence, he could at least leave on a full stomach and a song stuck in his head. Because the bard was good, infuriatingly so. More like the kind that should be in a royal court than in a nameless backwater village. Maybe he was on the run, did something stupid like sleep with the wrong wife and now had a price on his head. it was none of Eskel’s business even if he liked to guess scenarios.

The set wound down and Eskel pulled his hood tighter around his face now that the music no longer distracted people from their surroundings. Hopefully the crowd was in too good a mood to chase him out. He didn’t expect someone to sit down opposite him and push a tankard across the table.

“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood.” It was said so teasingly, Eskel’s eyes flashed from under his hood, surprise stretching his scars across his cheek. “Don’t worry,” the man was quick to reassure, “you’re safe with me.”

As if a witcher was safe with a bard. There was no protection a bard could offer but Eskel still gave him a thorough once over.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the bard said with a wide grin, “I am-”

“You’re Geralt’s bard.” He could recognise the bruised teeth marks on the bard’s neck in a heartbeat. Especially when he had worn the very same marks quite proudly over winter. Not that Eskel was jealous. It wasn’t like he and Geralt had anything more than a winter romance each year.

“I prefer to think of Geralt as my witcher actually.” There was a slightly offended tone to the bard’s voice. “At least he talks of me, I guess that’s a positive. I’m Jaskier.”

“Eskel.”

Introductions made, there was a brief moment of silence and Eskel thought Jaskier would leave. Instead, it seemed Jaskier just getting comfortable and taking a deep drink from his own tankard.

“So, was it the wonderful singing that tipped you off as to who I was?”

Eyes on Jaskier’s neck, Eskel shook his head. “There’s not many people Geralt would mark as his own. Really, out on The Path, it’s just you.”

The unsaid implication that there were others Geralt would mark when not on The Path probably went over Jaskier’s head. Or not, as his eyes darkened.

“Well-” a long finger traced the rim of a tankard, “-seeing as Geralt has taken the only contract, I feel bad about having you get here only to find there’s nothing worthwhile in this village.”

If Eskel didn’t know better, he would have thought Jaskier was coming onto him. He obviously didn’t know better because Jaskier leaned closer, a hand popping a button on his already indecently open doublet.

“You’re his bard,” Eskel bit out and hastily tried to drain his drink so he could escape. There were a lot of things he was willing to do but he didn’t want to cross Geralt.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Jaskier’s eyes were dark. “I call him my witcher. But he has in no way claimed me as his bard. I’m open for the taking because he hasn’t got the message that I could be his.”

“I’ll leave him a message,” Eskel growled under his breath. If Jaskier was offering so openly, he would be a fool to turn him down. “You got a room?”

The way Jaskier jumped up, emptying his drink in a few quick gulps spoke volumes about his enthusiasm and Eskel knew he’d made the right choice. Even back at Kaer Morhen he and Geralt weren’t exclusive. They shared Lambert and even Aiden if he was there and in the mood. A hand around his wrist and Eskel was being tugged towards the rooms at the back. Someone even wolf whistled Jaskier and Eskel fought down a blush.

In the room he could smell Geralt, saw evidence of him having been by however that was quickly wiped from Eskel’s mind in favour of the world narrowing down to Jaskier.

The bed ended up smelling heavily of them and the throw had to be thrown to the ground as it had ended up covered in come. It was worth it though, especially when Eskel looked at Jaskier’s throat and, on the opposite side to Geralt’s fading mark, was an imprint of his own teeth. If Geralt missed the permeating smell, he would hopefully see Eskel’s message at least.

“Geralt better bring you to Kaer Morhen in the winter,” he murmured as he held Jaskier, both of them sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. “If he refuses, tell him you’ll be my guest and need escorting.”

“I’ll be there.”

Waiting until Jaskier was asleep, Eskel slipped out of the room and went to collect Scorpion. He didn’t want to waste money on a room of his own and he didn’t really want to be there when Geralt returned. Well, he did a little, just to see his reaction to the bite mark but by being there, the surprise would be somewhat ruined. It was easier to get ahead and have a few hours’ advantage over Geralt.

The sun was rising and Eskel was napping off the side of the road in a patch of soft moss when he heard the sound of hooves, accompanied by a lute. It couldn’t be an accident that Geralt and Jaskier were headed that way. Which meant Geralt had received the message.

Stepping out onto the road, Eskel had his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised.

Never a man of many words, Geralt dismounted and marched up to Eskel who stood his ground. A glove covered hand reached and gripped the back of Eskel’s neck, pulling him in. First it was just to rest their foreheads together but then the hand slipped to cup Eskel’s cheek and lips brushed against his. One soft kiss turned into something more forceful as if Geralt was making a point. By the time he pulled away, the were pressed chest to chest and Geralt’s thigh had slipped between Eskel’s.

“Can’t believe you didn’t wait for me.” Geralt’s voice was a low rasp. “Leave my bard all marked up but leave before I get back.”

“Oh, so I am your bard?” Jaskier was smiling, lounging against a tree and openly appreciating the view before him. “About time I got some recognition around here.”

“Shut up.” Geralt was almost smiling. “If you’re not careful, I’ll bring you to Kaer Morhen for winter. Then you’ll be the Wolf School’s bard.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Eskel barked out a laugh, head thrown back which turned breathless as Geralt nipped at his throat. The light brush of teeth turned to something harder and Eskel’s knees almost buckled as his hips rocked against Geralt’s thigh. The bastard stepped away, leaving Eskel high and dry.

“Come home for winter.” Geralt smirked and hopped up onto Roach. “Until then, Wolf.”

With a cheeky wave, Jaskier turned to follow Roach, sauntering after Geralt and already strumming a new tune.

Rubbing his throat, Eskel watched them leave. The mark smarted, a nice reminder of what he could expect, come winter. Even better, when he finally made it there, Jaskier was lounging in Aiden’s lap, both of them looking every bit like the cats who got the cream.