#( could possibly be college verse too idk )

[lilacsongs]

“  —  that’s  enough  for  tonight.”  kyungsoo  snatches  the  bottle  away  from  eden,  before  steadying  the  tipsy  man  with  his  other  arm.  it  isn’t  often  that  he’s  forced  to  be  the  more  responsible  adult  between  them,  but  it  happens  from  time  to  time.  “it’s  time  to  go  back.” / @artisn

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 10)

 Final Girl Masterlist  (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

A/n i’m leaning towards starting to write shorter chapters in order to be able to update a little faster but idk

Series Summary:  Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of learning that a certain redheaded journalist is making you a focal point of her true crime novel. 

----

In the least cynical way possible, sometimes I think a part of my mom craves conflict. Not in a narcissistic or violent way, just in a protective one. 

She doesn’t pick fights for the sake of having them, she doesn’t tear into things for the rush of adrenaline or to feed some complex. My mom likes standing up for people in a way that would be annoyingly self righteous if it was any less genuine. Any incident that could be interpreted as blood in the water has her diving in head first, ready to ward off any potential sharks. 

That’s why nothing about this rampage is surprising. She’s been pacing the length of the kitchen without giving the phone in her hand a break, typing out numbers at an unbelievable speed, only occasionally pausing to flip through the phone book on the counter. 

“Well then put me through,” she stalls long enough to put a hand on her hip, “Not to an assistant, not to the station, or the publishing company. Get Gale Weathers on the phone. Now.” 

This is the third time she’s pulled this stunt since I walked into the kitchen to grab a pity snack. The way she presses her lips together tells me that this time hasn’t been any more successful. “She’s too busy? Well, I hope she’s not too busy for a law su--” Something cuts her off. My mom blinks. “Hello?” 

“I told you that threatening to sue people wouldn’t work over the phone.” 

She pulls the phone away from her ear with a sigh. “It’s not a threat if I mean it.” The phone is placed on the counter as she turns her attention to the phone book. “That woman can’t do this. You, and your legal guardian, never consented to your likeness or story being used.” 

Unfortunately, that’s not completely true. Or, at the very least, it’s not that concrete or straight forward. When something’s news, information becomes a lot less easy to claim as personal or yours. Especially if personal information is kept vague enough. The second I was attacked by Ghostface and the news reported it, a lot of me in that context became a lot less legally sound. I’d have to prove it defamed me or hurt my life, which can’t be done before the book comes out. 

“We can’t prove that until the book is out.” 

She sighs, “There has to be something.” My mom taps her manicured nails against the granite counter top. 

My stomach twists with helplessness as the most urgent issue rushes to the front of my mind. It’s more than just someone taking advantage of my trauma or the fact that books are so much more permanent than any news headline ever could be. Books take time to come out, to circulate, which means that this tell all could reach its peak during my college app season. Princeton could see this. All colleges could see this. 

“Mom...” I can feel the tremor in my voice, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.

In a way, isn’t this best case scenario? Compared to what could have happened? Isn’t this such a small thing compared to what happened to Casey? I know this, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel it fully. Not when it comes to something I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What if--what if this gets in the way of Princeton?” 

She presses her lips together, watching me openly in a way that’s become familiar. “Oh, pumpkin,” she breathes, moving across the counter to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I squeeze her tightly. “And that I don’t know what to say or how to help.” She smooths my hair down gently. “But when it comes to school, all you can do is keep up your grades and when the time comes, write the best essay you can. And if they’re stupid enough to turn down your weirdly-good grades and insane resume, then screw Princeton.” 

Despite myself, I smile. Those soft digs at my type-A-ness aren’t lost on me and the sense of familiarity I get from them instantly make it easier. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, and if you want, you could always write your own tell-all book that would outsell hers because yours is from the--” 

“Excuse me?” 

She lets go of me, taking a step back at my offense. “I’m not telling you to write it, I’m just saying a published book would look good on an Ivy-league application.” 

Sometimes I’m so crazy about school that I forget my mom is also capable of insanity. “Mom!” 

My mom lets out a sigh. “What? You’ve been obsessed with Princeton since your dad gave you his old college sweatshirt in the third grade, but now I’m crazy?” 

She’s half joking and I know she’d never actually push me to write something like that, but my stomach still turns. Yes, I have made a ton of jokes about having no morals when it comes to college apps, but it’s different now. Anything that has to do with that Ghostface stuff feels tainted. I don’t want success from him. I don’t want anything good from Casey’s death.

I pick up the spoon that’s sunken into my partially melted bowl of ice cream. “I am not exploiting this.”

She holds her hands up in defense, “It’d ruin Gale’s book, jump start your career in journalism.” My mom extends an arm, asking for my spoon. I sigh before handing it to her. She eats a healthy spoonful of ice cream. “Two birds, one stone.” 

I scoff, taking the spoon back and eating my own spoonful. "You’re sick.” 

My mom steps back form the counter. “Just a suggestion.” 

I’m about to assert my previous point when the doorbell rings. I raise an eyebrow at my mom, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone. I’m not so I just shrug, moving away from the counter and towards the door.

There’s a chance it could be Wells. He’s at work, but it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot his keys. I peak out the window and am instantly pleasantly surprised. I’m more excited than I can justify as I reach for the front door’s lock. 

The door creaks open and I fight down a grin. I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had been planning on moping and rotting in bed until school. 

“Hey,” I mumble, latching onto my surprise. 

Stu flashes a warm smile in greeting, “Hey, sweetheart.” 

I wrinkle my nose at the nickname despite its tameness. My mom’s way too close for that. I’m torn between making a joke about it and avoiding drawing attention to my concern and giving Stu a reason to push. I settle on looking over at Billy. He’s standing in a way that feels a little stiff. 

There’s a chance they called first, since they usually do when they come over through the front door instead of just showing up at my window. “If you called, my mom’s sort of taken over our phone line.” They both already know about Gale’s book and the fact that she’s editing it to include me, since they were both there when I found out. That still doesn’t make it easy to talk about, “She’s hunting down Gale Weathers.”

"Then I’m scared for Gale Weathers.” Stu raises his eyebrows, exaggerating concern.

Billy nods once, “She deserves it.” 

That’s true. I wasn’t exactly kind to her during our brief meeting, but she ambushed me at school after I was attacked. But that can’t be enough to justify what she’s doing now, especially without so much as a ‘heads up, you’re in my book’ phone call. If you’re going to potentially ruin someone’s future because they happened to have survived a serial killer, it wouldn’t kill you to call first. 

“Anything...else up?” Stu’s question surprises me. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough or I still look as worried about all of this as I feel. 

I don’t want to get into the details of my concern. I freaked out in front of them enough after I saw Gale’s announcement on TV, but there’s no way I can get away with acting like I’m perfectly okay with it all now. I guess I’ll go with deflecting, “Just my mom being a total college obsessed psycho.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth tilts upwards, almost a smile. “You had to get it from somewhere.” 

I glare at him in a way that I really hope is cutting. “Shut up. I’m not psycho.” 

“I’ve seen the Princeton poster in your roo--” I shake my head sharply, extending an arm to softly punch Stu’s arm. 

He stops, more out of surprise than decency. I drop my voice to a low whisper in order to explain, “My mom’s not that distracted, and she doesn’t know you’ve ever been in my room.” Stu grins at my seriousness. “And she can never find out.” 

This only makes him grin more openly, “Keeping secrets for me?” 

“I’m not above kicking you guys out.” 

Billy sighs, a defensive huff. “I didn’t do anything.” 

A slightly too aggressive you brought him here almost slips out, but I manage to stop it. Maybe if I was in a more joking, lighthearted mood I’d let myself make that kind of aggressive joke, but I’m moody and there’s a good chance my irritation will slip into that. it’ll taint the comment and make it something a lot more serious than it’s supposed to be. 

“Yet,” I settle on, trying to feel as easy as the comment.

He frowns, eyebrows pulling together like he just watched me kick a puppy. After a second, Billy parts his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything back. 

“Who’s at the door?” My mom’s voice carries from the hall and to the entryway, a moment later she appears. I turn my head in time to see her polite smile, a little irate thanks to how the last day and a half have been. “Oh, hi, Billy, Stu.’’ Her greeting is flatter than usual as she barely takes a second to look up from the phone. “Come in, come in.” 

I step back to create space for them to come in. Despite my mom’s instinctual fall back to politeness, she barely notices the difference as she hits redial before pressing the phone to her ear. “Do you guys want anything to drink or...are you hungry or...going...” She trails off, attention visibly shifting as she waves us off, “Hello, can I--look, that’s great, Jocelyn, but I need to get in touch with your supervisor?” 

With one last force-of-habit smile, she turns away from the entryway and walks out. I walk towards the front door, instinctually shutting and locking it. “That’s basically my life now.” 

“Poor thing,” Stu’s voice is thick with false sympathy, “Your mommy’s fixing everything for--” 

“Shut up.” The reply comes out too quickly, too serious.

Stu blinks once, clearly not expecting the hint of actual tension and hostility that managed to press itself into the two words. “Someone’s moody.” 

I squeeze my eyes shut for a long second. “Sorry, I didn’t--” Sighing, I try to force the stiffness out of my body. “This book thing’s starting to get to me. I know that’s not an excuse, I just--” I don’t know how to explain the knot in my throat or the nerves in my stomach. 

The thought of this one thing I was delusional enough to think that I might be able to one day put behind me being everywhere is starting to claw at my insides. That helplessness is being amplified by a strange form of guilt, because I’m the one that’s still alive, so why should I get to complain? 

“Hey,” Stu interrupts my derailing train of thought. He places a hand on my shoulder, “No hard feelings, okay?” 

I nod, irritated at myself for the tears I feel burning in my eyes. “Okay.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Billy’s question is so low I almost convince myself I made it up. But then he lets out a breath and tacts on something else, “...Or we could go upstairs or watch a movie or whatever?”

The offer is so gentle I nearly melt. “Did you guys want to do something?”

They did come here, probably for a reason. Not that they never come over just to hang out, but they usually have some kind of plan or suggestion, like going over to Stu’s or driving around or watching a specific movie. 

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Billy’s reply comes out slowly, his eyes not fully focused on me. “We called and you didn’t answer, and after the news thing...”

That’s fair. I did leave Stu’s house pretty fast after the Gale Weathers thing and haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house for over 24 hours. Usually people worrying about how I’m handling things makes me feel uncomfortably hollow, but this doesn’t make any of that come up. Maybe it’s because they’re not making it feel like pity. 

“Uh...” There’s honestly not much that seems fun right now. A part of me still wants to crawl under my covers and pretend that nothing else exists, but they’ve pulled me out worse moods before. “I can show you guys that album I was talking about?” The offer feels weak, a little hollow. Stu squeezes my shoulder before relaxing his arm. “The CD’s in my room.” I shrug, looking between the two of them, “Or we could do whatever.” 

“You’ve been talking about that CD for a long time for someone who always forgets to bring it.” Stu’s not even trying to hide his accusation as he starts walking down the hallway.

I cross my arms, giving Billy a look that asks if he can believe all I have to deal with. “Yeah, I’m just worried your top 20 pallet is too complex for our tastes to ever overlap.” 

Stu scoffs, “Yeah, I’m the one that’s into top 20.” 

“Out of the three of us?” Billy’s question rivals Stu’s blatant sarcasm. 

I fight down a smile as Stu turns his head enough to glare. The display of irritation is short lived, because Stu has to turn back around to avoid tripping on the first stair step. He nearly misses, but recovers so quickly I wouldn’t have noticed the misstep if I hadn’t been looking at him. Sometimes his stability surprises me, because Stu’s energetic and lanky enough to warrant being a little clumsy, but he’s a lot better at not tripping than me. 

We walk up the stairs, the only sound filling the space is my mom’s voice, too far for any specifics to be made out. 

“I think I miss your mom not trusting us.” Stu lets out a wistful sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to my room. “Don’t worry, she’s just distracted.” 

Even though my mom’s phone tirade is definitely helping her be so easy, I know what he’s talking about. When Billy and Stu first started hanging around, my mom felt the need to hover a lot more. She’d check up on us a lot more than she would when I was alone with Sidney or Tatum. My mom would also make a lot of jokes and comments in order to pry as (not so) subtly as possible. Slowly, she became more accustomed (or maybe desensitized), to them and now my mom acts a lot more normal in front of them. When they leave, she normally still pushes a little, usually through humor, but it’s a lot more tolerable now.

Stu walks into my room before I can, walking towards my bed. “We’re growing on her.”

I sit down next to him. “Or she finally gets that you two barely register as guys to me.” 

Stu moves, intentionally bumping his knee into mine, hard enough to make my knee move. Once he has my attention, he flexes an arm. “I’m all man, angel.”

There’s an exaggerated quality to his reaction that I can’t tell if I’m meant to take seriously or not. It’s the uncertainty that makes me let out a slight laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He turns his head, leaning back slightly as he presses his palms into my comforter. “Then how’d you mean it?” 

My face feels a little warmer than before and I can’t figure out what that’s about. I’m used to Stu pressing after comments like this. Sometimes his humor focuses on making someone feel uncomfortable. Retreating or acting awkward gives him a reason to keep pushing. But I have no good way to answer. 

I wipe my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Don’t start.” 

“Maybe I don’t get it.” 

I stand, throwing him a dirty look as I move towards my CD player. “Maybe you’re full of shit.” 

He huffs, “Mean.”

My fingers skim the row of CDs on my desk before finding the one I’m looking for. I use my nail to pop open the case. “Yeah, I’m a real bully.” Billy, who’s been lingering near my desk, opens my CD player before I can. I set the disk in place. “Can you believe him?” 

Billy shakes his head once, a few strands of hair falling out of place with the motion. He picks up the CD case and starts studying the back of it. “I can’t believe you can’t.” 

Stu lets out a distracted sound of protest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him fidgeting with something. My room’s not a total disaster, but I’ve been too busy moping to fully clean it, so there are a lot of contenders for things Stu could be messing with. I can’t think of anything that’s within his reach that’s embarrassing or important, so I let it go. Billy seems a little tense and considering the headspace he was in the last time I saw him, figuring that out is important. 

“Fair,” I hum, shutting the CD player, “You uh--” His eyes flit upwards, away from the CD case. The look is kind of stiff, but not annoyed or wary. It makes me realize that I don’t really have a good way to finish my sentence. Asking if someone’s okay never feels natural. Especially when he’s only been here for a few. “You okay?” I force myself to focus on the CD player, messing with the volume instead fo just hitting play. “You seem a little tense.” 

He sets the plastic case down. “I’m okay.” Billy straightens, shifting his weight off of my desk. The movement is small, he hasn’t even taken a full step, but the change makes him feel a lot closer. “Just can’t believe she can do that.” His tone takes on such a hard edge it takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about. Is the book thing really bothering him that much? “To you, to--does she think she’s untouchable? That guy’s still out there, what makes her think he won’t find her and rip that bitch’s--”

Billy cuts himself off with no warning, eyes focusing on me. I blink. Billy might come off as intense and reserved before you know him, but he’s never seemed explosive or prone to emotional impulsivity like that. Even when I briefly thought he could have been the killer, he never came off as aggressive. He never even held the fact that I put his life in danger and accused him of being a serial killer against me. 

This tension is new and it came from feeling defensive over me. The realization that it has something to do over me makes me more antsy than Billy’s actual words. 

“Woah,” Stu says through a dry laugh. “Relax, dude, there’s no need to write the next news story for her.” Stu swings an arm over my shoulder. I’m still stuck on what just happened, so it takes me a millisecond too long to weakly attempt to get Stu off of me. He pinches my shoulder, the nail of his thumb digging into my skin just enough for it to register as stinging. “You’re in poor Billy’s head.” I can’t tell if Stu’s teasing is meant to be sympathetic towards Billy or accusatory towards me. “Give the boy a break.” 

My chin briefly tilts downwards, a compulsory movement that seems to genuinely want to listen to what’s clearly a joking command. “I’ll try.” 

Stu relaxes his hold on me, dragging his thumb up and down the exposed skin of my shoulder, soothing the skin he accidentally irritated. I extend my arm, turning on the music absentmindedly. The room doesn’t exactly feel tense, but I feel a lot smaller than I did a few seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s because of the dip into a gory, too real topic or Stu’s comment or if I’m still just irritable.

“Guess it’s not your fault,” Stu hums, squeezing my shoulder once, “You can’t help being lovable.”

I try to keep myself focused as I adjust the volume of the first song. “That’s true.” He lets go of me and I stand a little straighter. “We all have our faults.” 

Billy lets out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah, your only flaw’s that you’re too perfect.” 

“You were the one ready to support a murder for her,” Stu defends bluntly, “Not saying that Gale Weathers doesn’t deserve what she gets.” 

In all honesty, I had been so distracted by the way the book would affect me and my chances to get past the Ghostface thing that I didn’t even think about the actual killer. This could get him to hurt someone else. Gale Weathers could be making herself a target, but I find the thought unlikely. The more I reflect on why he left me alive the more I think that it might have been because there’s more of a story when there’s a survivor. He joked with me about the final girl thing. He also called me once without attacking anyone. The asshole probably gets off on attention. 

Gale Weathers is probably the safest person in this town. The more she talks, the more attention he gets. It probably also helps his ego because he knows everyone’s after him and he hasn’t been caught. It’ll probably get him to hurt someone...just not her. Not that I hope Gale gets stabbed, it just makes her choices that much more selfish. 

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at my open palm. The tiny white line, the scar carved into the skin of my hand seems bigger right now. “I don’t--it’s not like I want Gale to get hurt.” 

“No one’s saying you do,” Billy says, voice patient. 

I sigh, a part of me wishing this hadn’t come up. This was the last thing I wanted to think about, that’s why I’ve been ignoring calls and just focusing on homework. I walk away from my desk and sit down on my bed before slumping back semi-dramatically. If this is how Billy and Stu are acting, everyone at school is definitely going to start treating me weirdly again. Maybe Gale will be there, trying to chase me down for a quote. 

Ugh...maybe I can get my mom to bully the principle into letting me homeschool for a few days. A week maximum. Or maybe she’ll let me pretend to have mono or something. I have most of my textbooks here and I could get assignments from-- 

My bed dips, cutting off my train of thought. I turn my head enough to see Billy. “I--” His voice comes out so low I’m surprised I even heard him over the music. “I didn’t want to bring all of that up for you.”

There’s a softness there that makes it easier to genuinely shake my head dismissively. “It’s okay.” 

His eyes briefly meet mine. “I also didn’t uh--didn’t want to freak you out or--” 

“You didn’t.” That’s true, at least in the way he meant it. That level of anger over something that only really affects me did surprise me, but it’s not like he scared me. He hesitantly focuses his attention on me. I prop my head up on one elbow, watching him carefully. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.” 

Billy tilts his head, his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “Oh, yeah?” 

He’s probing, likely trying to trick me into a compliment. “You’re losing your edge.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible as I drop my elbow and lay down again. “I think it’s all the time around me.” 

His eyebrows draw together like he’s seriously considering my hypothesis. “Valid theory.” The bed moves with no warning, the space to my left indenting. Billy lays down next to me without moving to make sure there’s enough space between me and the headboard. His arm presses into mine. “All the time in here can’t be helping either.” 

Billy does come over to my room a lot, usually crashing here when he needs to avoid his dad and doesn’t want to talk about it. Recently, though, he hasn’t been around as much. I didn’t think too much of it until I went over to Stu’s and saw that Billy wasn’t up for much of anything. “It’s the exposure to all the fluffy pillows.” 

“Probably.” Something warm brushes against the back of my wrist. Billy carefully traces an invisible line up my forearm. “This song’s nice.” 

The warmth of validation tugs at my chest. “It’s my favorite one on here.” He follows the same trail back down the inside of my forearm. “I think you’ll like the uh--” There had been a specific one on the track list that reminded me of a few songs he had shown me before. I list the titles in my head until I remember the right one, “Fourth track.” 

“Hm,” he hums in a way that doesn’t feel dismissive, just relaxed.

The bed shifts again. I crane my neck back, eyes straining to see behind me. After a second, I make out Stu circling my nightstand. “This is new.” He’s picking something up. Stu sits back down, making it easier to see what’s caught his attention. 

Oh. Not new, but I don’t blame him for not having my bookshelf memorized. “Not new.” He turns the book onto its side, studying the worn spine as if to confirm what I’m saying. “Just haven’t read it in a minute, thought it might cheer up.” 

There have been few problems that American Psycho and Patrick Bateman haven’t been able to at least help. It didn’t make me feel a lot better, but it was nice to distract myself from a real life murderer with the fictitious kind. 

Stu pauses, skimming the back of the book. “A little dark for a pick me up.” 

“It’s well written.” 

That’s true, and its commentary on social values and the rise of well off, stockbroker success and the culture that’s developed because of it is interesting and a creative analysis of society’s values. It also helps that despite being written with only a few redeeming qualities and being the literal villain (and weirdly misogynistic), I might have the smallest bit of a thing for Patrick Bateman. Not that I’d ever go for anyone like that in real life, but my fascination with his character is definitely a guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure they really don’t need to know about.

He thumbs through the pages, attention focused like he’s actually reading it all that fast. Stu nods once, setting the book down at the edge of my bed before picking up a sweatshirt I almost forgot was still on my bed. He takes a second to feel the fabric of the sleeve before loosely folding it. Stu leaves it next to my book before laying down. 

We’re all lying horizontally now, but Stu’s backwards, his head closer to my torso and legs than anything else. The position makes it easy for me to secretly move my hand and softly flick his shoulder. Stu snaps his head in my direction, expression so shocked and slightly horrified I might as well have slapped him. 

It’d probably be smart to backtrack, but I’m clearly in no mood to make intelligent decisions, so I let myself laugh. The sound is a quick, too-smug giggle. Stu’s eyebrows pull together at the sound, the look concerning in its seriousness. I move to pull my hand back, but my reaction is too late. Stu throws his hand forward, grasping onto my wrist. I yank back once, had enough to be considered serious. Stu squeezes tighter, pulling my arm forward with an ease that embarrasses me.

“Stu!” A partial squeak, a partial laugh. 

He squeezes my arm to his chest, forcing my body to lean forward. I squirm, attempting to slip out of his grasp. I come close to escaping when I twist my arm back and turn my wrist without warning him, but Stu recovers. Growing desperate, I use my free hand to shove his shoulder. That backfires, too, encouraging him to use his other hand to keep me trapped.

The play fight escalates, both of us trying to win without getting up or seeming too invested. My wrist makes a cracking sound as I finally slip out of his hold. He’s quick to throw his arm forward and grab me again. Before I can even think to react, Stu tugs my hand upwards and briefly nips the side of my hand. 

I gasp so dramatically one might think he tried to gnaw off my entire hand. “Did you just bite me?”  Stu laughs, finally letting me take my arm back. I take a second to examine my hand, even though his teeth barely touched me. After deciding that my unmarked skin will one day recover, I prop myself up on my forearm and look over at Billy. “He fucking bit me.” 

Billy turns his head, unbothered by our conflict. “You started it.” There’s an underlying smugness that makes me want to shove him. I frown openly, not caring if I get accused of pouting. He sighs, holding up a hand. “Fine. Let’s see the damage.” 

“I didn’t even touch her.” 

I roll my eyes at Stu’s defense. Did it hurt? No, but it was deeply offensive. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.” 

Stu lets out a breath, “Sweetheart, you can bi--” 

“Do not.” I keep my voice stern as I look at Billy’s waiting hand. He asked to see the damage, but there really isn’t any. The skin beneath my thumb wasn’t even grossly damp. It was more about my shock. But I still listen, setting my hand on his. 

Billy pulls on my hand gently, studying my skin intently. He even takes a second to bend my fingers and stretch them back out. “Think you’ll live.” 

I nod, letting Billy take his time still examining my hand. “Optimistic prognosis.” 

He shrugs slightly, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Only if you’ve had all your shots.”

Stu’s scoff and offended, “Fuck off,” are nearly drowned out by my laughter. Billy sets my hand down between us carefully. My giggling fit is drawn out by the rush of fondness in my chest. These two really are so much weirder than people realize and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Wow. They really are my best friends, and maybe arguably the most important people in my life. 

Feeling this close to anyone usually makes me want to be flighty. I’m not used to it when it comes to people I haven’t known my entire life, and there’s an inherent nervousness when it comes to growing attached to people you don’t completely know. It is kind of weird to feel this close to them and I haven’t even seen Billy’s room yet, so it makes sense that sometimes it feels different than what I’m used to. 

“What are you thinking about?” The question takes me by surprise, breaking the easy silence that’s been carried by the soft music. 

I blink at Billy’s words, a small part of me reacting like I’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. “Uh...nothing.” Fairly true. It’s not like my train of thought was focused or made much sense. Still, though, I should probably give him something more so he doesn’t assume that I’m trying to hide a mental break down. “...That you’re one of my best friends and I’ve never been to your house before.” 

Stu lightly squeezes my forearm. “You’re not missing much.” 

“You bit me,” I mumble, “What do you know?” 

He relaxes his hold on me in order to run his knuckles up and down my arm. “It was a love bite.” 

“Like a feral cat.”

Stu scoffs. “This is why Billy doesn’t want you at his place.” 

Wow. Rude. I part my lips, ready to insult him. “Okay,” Billy interjects, “Don’t start again.” A part of me’s offended by the defense. I should be able to fight Stu over this. “You guys are kids.”

I glare, “Rude.” 

“Fine, let him bite you again.” My nose wrinkles, but before I can say anything, Billy continues, “And he’s not wrong, you’re not missing much.” 

He’s probably right, I’ve just been thinking about it a little more than usual. “Until I see it, I’m going to think that your bedsheets are bright pink.”

“Actually, they’re bright purple.” 

The sarcasm comes out so quickly, so casually, I almost think he means it. “Nice try, but I’m still assuming neon pink.” 

He sighs, “It’s neon now?” The question’s mumbled, and before I can say anything back, Billy sits up. 

Stu turns onto his side, eyebrows drawn together in order to silently ask what’s up with Billy. “What are you doing?” 

“If she’s going to make up things about my room until she sees it...” He walks away from my bed, stopping close to my door. “We should get it over with.” 

Oh my god?? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I also wasn’t prepared for the wave of excitement buzzing in my chest. I sit up too quickly, too telling. “Really?” 

It’s a casual thing that I really don’t want to make weird, but I wasn’t angling to get him to take us over there. And the thought is nice, they’re my best friends and a bedroom gives insight into a person. It’s also the perfect distraction after everything that’s happened today. 

“Yeah? Really?” 

Billy shrugs, already reaching my door. “It’ll be better than whatever she makes up about it.” 

A good point, because I was already thinking about ways to work in an assumption about him having zebra print lampshades and posters pulled from pre-teen magazines. “Am I getting that predictable?” 

He raises his eyebrows and Stu tries to conceal a laugh. I roll my eyes as Billy returns the question, “Getting?” 

“Haha.” Why do I hang out with them? I take back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts about them. 

I push myself to my feet, looking for my shoes. Stu sits up, waiting for me to find my sneakers. Because I was planning on hiding in my room until school, I almost didn’t change out of pajamas and now I’m glad I changed into some leggings and a comfortable shirt this morning.

My shoes were hiding underneath a pillow. I free them and sit on the edge of my bed to pull them on. Stu taps my knee, getting me to turn. “What?” 

He pats his lap once, implying something I don’t get. When I don’t react quickly enough, Stu sighs and bends forward. He pulls on my laces. “I can--” It’s too late, he’s already looped them once and is working on doing it again. “Double knotted?” 

Stu squeezes my ankle after tying my last shoe. “You trip too much for me not to.” 

I scoff, “You were almost nice.” 

“I’m always nice to you, angel.”

rolling my eyes, I move to stand after Stu straightens. 

“Grab a jacket,” Billy mumbles, “It’s cold.”

If my mom could see this, she’d never make another joke about him again. Actually, she’d probably say he’s one of my only friends with good sense. “Nerd.” 

He gives me a more-than-slightly-annoyed look as I reach for the jacket hanging on my desk chair. I make a point of holding up the jacket before folding the fabric over my arm. 

----

It’s a lot harder to not look like a little kid on a field trip than one would think. Maybe it’s the jacket that’s gone from neatly folded over my arm to a wadded up lump pressed snugly into my chest, held in place by my crossed together arm. The spring in my step could be part of the problem, a slight bounce that has to be a result of the touch of fall chilliness in the air and has absolutely nothing to do with internal excitement. That’d be way too dramatic. 

Billy unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stu walks in first, I follow. We walk down a short entryway that leads to a main living area. The living area is put together, radiating a neatness that almost feels clinical. Maybe that’s an exaggerated way of taking in the precisely angled arm chairs and the glass figurine that’s sitting on the coffee table, but I can’t help the thought. It has to be a byproduct of the ‘organized chaos’ my mom raised me on, a stack of magazines in the living room that never seem to fully straighten and unmatched pillows that get paired together to tell a story. 

The space is nice, though, some underlying factor I can’t pinpoint making it still feel a little homey. It’s almost like the room’s covered by an invisible cloak that makes it clear that people live here, that this isn’t some open house. I take my time looking around the room, trying to find a source for this feeling. 

There are a few framed photos, but none of them revolving around family enough to offer a homey feel, just pictures of a little boy growing up. The fuzzy one of the boy at maybe the age of six stands out on the coffee table, his smile reveals a missing tooth in a way that makes it a personal favorite. For a second, I think the subtle lived in atmosphere could be coming from the few knick knacks on the coffee table and book shelf, but quickly rule that out. Sure, they’re objectively nice decorations but they don’t fit together in that way. There’s no way a dad didn’t pick them out. 

I guess the feeling comes from the details. The most comfortable looking arm chair is the one closest to the bookshelf even though that corner of the room is almost a little too cramped for the two to sit next to each other. The rug matches the walls and the couch in a way that makes the cream colored pillows seem sad and out of place. 

“Is it everything you thought it’d be?” 

Stu’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. I nod once, stepping towards the coffee table. My hand reaches forward, picking up the picture of the kid with the missing tooth. “Oh, most definitely.” 

Billy sighs at the same time Stu lets out a quick, easy laugh. “That’s a good one.” 

“Put it down,” Billy mumbles halfheartedly, but it’s too late. Stu’s at my side, taking the smooth frame. He holds it up and then down, squinting like he’s studying a complex work of art. “This was a mistake.” 

I grin, “Once again, most definitely.” 

“You used to be a real softie.” Stu delivers the comment in a way that feels almost factual. I bite down a joke about how used to feels like an exaggeration as Stu sets down the frame. 

Billy frowns a little too pointedly. “Yeah, I was the one that was sensitive.” 

I turn my head towards Stu, who’s stiffer than he was too seconds ago. There’s definitely a story there. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Stu pouts, lazily extending an arm in my direction. “He’s always been jealous of me.” 

Mhm. I roll my eyes, sighing as I reluctantly step forward and meet him halfway. Stu squeezes my shoulder. The gesture is gentle enough, but I still halfheartedly try to push him off. “Yeah, jealous sounds like the right word.” 

He huffs. “Don’t be mean.” 

I force my thumb downwards. My nail pinches at my skin a little but it works, I get in between the fabric of my shirt and Stu’s palm. He curves his hand to give me the space I need. “I’m never mean.” He tries to squeeze my thumb down flat. “Seriously, though,” I turn my head enough to look at Billy, “Story?” 

Billy tilts his head just enough for me to notice and his eyebrows pull together. The feeling that he’s silently trying to tell me something I can’t interpret tugs at me briefly. He straightens his stance before I can read too much into the look. “Imagine that with the impulse control of a seven-year-old, that’s the story.” 

Stu being a former terror is a topic that’s been touched on before. Usually, the issue with befriending people that have known each other their entire lives is that you’ll never have the childhood experiences together. You’ll never know whose parents hosted the sleepovers or who had constantly scraped knees or who went through an embarrassing obsession with some child targeted franchise. 

It’s a fair thing thing to be intimidated by. And normally, it’d sting from time to time, but with them it rarely does. I like hearing the stories, like the details that come up. 

Stu scoffs in complaint, fighting back with renewed interest as I come close to freeing my shoulder.

“He used to have a thing for bugs,” Billy offers after a second, “Didn’t like when people would mess with hives and-and food routes or whatever.” 

The hand on my shoulder nearly goes slack. I blink, twisting my neck to look at Stu, whose staring straight ahead. “Shut up.” The words come out uncharacteristically passive, and maybe even a little flat. 

Picturing Stu as one of those insect fact kids wouldn’t come to me naturally, but it does kind of fit. Not the defending them, but the interest in something that gets people to react. 

“Really?”

Stu sighs, “Not really.” Again, a surprisingly flat defense. “I didn’t have a thing...just thought they were...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “Cool.” 

“So cool you had to put a beetle in Valerie Thompson’s cubbie.” 

...And there it is. I laugh despite myself, imagining a second-grade Stu and some poor girl getting into some kind of argument and then later finding something crawling between her crayons and coloring sheets. Maybe it’s a good thing we met when we did. Little me could be a monster in her own way, a way that wouldn’t have fit theres.  “That poor girl.” 

“Valerie Thompson had it coming,” Stu says, “Y’know what she was like.” 

I don’t know if it’s weird that I assumed that Stu was talking to me or both of us instead of just talking to Billy. The comment was small, offhanded and focused on a topic only they know about. It’s fair for him to not be talking to me. Rationally, I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it, though. 

I’ve seen them interact in ways that make it feel like everyone else is invisible. They get each other like that. Anyone that’s around them long enough to see them relax has to get it. It’s the kind of understanding that makes people insecure about their own best-friendship. Not that it makes me feel like that. Most of the time. 

Something about it right now burns more than usual. My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m not upset because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m not comfortable and breezy either. That just makes it worse, why does it feel different now?

Maybe my irritability is a result of multiple things. All I’ve had to today is a few spoonfuls of the ice cream that I mainly picked at so that my mom wouldn’t worry and I’ve had no water. The whole book thing has been stressful, too, and the pulsing ache of a migraine is starting to settle behind my right eye. 

It was nice of Billy to invite me over because I asked, but maybe it’s too early for me to be out again. Maybe what I need is the safe enclosure of my bedroom, dim lighting, and a nap. 

I try to shake off my discomfort by acting on instinct. The instinct of a feral toddler that isn’t getting enough attention. I twist my thumb, poking his hand with my nail. I’m not being mean about it, but I could have been gentler. Stu doesn’t react, which only adds to my annoyance.

My knuckles bend, giving me the space I need to get enough leverage to separate Stu’s hand from my arm. He lets me. 

“Guess he hasn’t changed that much since he bit you today.” 

The direct comment has me easing slightly. I get myself to smile. “Clearly.”

Billy takes a partial step forward, “You good?” 

I scratch the back of my arm, trying to ground myself in the present. Be normal. “Yeah...just tired.” Which is true enough. I wipe at my face, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control the dull pain. “And I feel like I’m getting a headache.” 

He nods, expression cloudy. “You want tylenol or water or...something.” 

Pull it together. I force my hands to my side as I shake my head once. “I’m okay, just spaced out for a second.” 

“You need to lay down?” Stu tilts his head, watching me like a part of him thinks I could faint.

My fingertips press into my side. “I’m good, it’s just a migraine.” This is what happens when someone decides to write a book about the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. “Probably just stress.” They’re staring attentively. I can’t blame them for their concern. If I freaked out right now, this wouldn’t be my first meltdown. The fact that it’s warranted makes everything feel like too much. “Can we get back to analyzing Billy’s baby pictures? I think I saw one with a pool floaty on the bookshelf.”

“Baby pictures are low tier.” Stu briefly lifts a hand before dropping it dismissively, swiping at the air. “The real making fun of Billy’s in his room.”

“Really?”

"Yep. All the angst.” 

Intriguing. “All the angst and pink sheets, right?” 

“Neon.” 

Billy sighs once, reluctantly stepping forward. This is all out of his control now. “You two don’t need to be around each other.” 

He walks past the couch, approaching a hall that leads away from the living room. Stu turns his head the second Billy’s back is to us. “So jealous of us.” 

Despite myself, I smile, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “So.” 

We walk down the hall together. Billy’s fully ditched us, but Stu knows where we’re going. The hall is short, we pass one door before Stu stops us in front of one that’s partially open. He opens it fully with a gentle push and walks in without a second thought.

I’m still stepping into the room when the bed creaks loudly thanks to the sudden addition of Stu’s weight. He’s making himself just as at home as he does in my room, rolling onto his stomach to reach for a pillow to tuck beneath him. 

Billy sighs from his desk chair, moving his legs off the foot of the bed. “What did we say you were? Seven?” 

Stu cranes his neck, glaring at Billy before relaxing again. “And a half.” 

“Feels generous.” The joke comes out instinctually, but my attention’s already divided.

Billy’s room is made up of deep blue-grey walls, not quite dark but nowhere close to light either. All the furniture is made of dark wood that matches the hardwood of the floor. The room is decorated a little neater than one would expect for a teenage boy, a few posters that are sized too well to not have been picked out carefully. They’re movie themed, though nowhere near as openly gory or sexualized as the one’s in Stu’s. 

Everything’s also nicely organized. Like, even more organized than my room. No clothes on the floor or laundry sitting in a basket or on a chair in a pile that’s left to grow until it eventually topples over. What I can see of his desk is also put together, no assignments or unfinished books or projects cluttering the surface.

I walk towards the bed, siting down on the edge. The comforter is navy blue and a lot softer than I thought it’d be. His sheets are dark colored, neutral plaid. Not hot pink or an obnoxious shade of purple, unfortunately. I can’t bring myself to mind being wrong. The space is really Billy in a reserved sort of way. It fits him. 

“No pink sheets.” Billy’s voice snaps me out of my analysis. It’s a good thing, too, because I was probably seconds away from touching things on his bookshelf and messing with the lamp and being nosey about knick knacks. I’d feel worse about the desire to pry and investigate for entertainment’s sake if both of them weren’t constantly looking through my things. 

My hand brushes the edge of the sheet that’s folded over. “Disappointing.” I twist awkwardly to better look at him. Billy’s bouncing his leg, not looking at anything in particular. “But besides that, it’s nice and not as embarrassing as Stu said it’d be.” 

Billy’s eyebrows draw together, “As?” 

Stu props his head up on one elbow despite the fact that most of his arm sinks into a pillow. “Look through his underwear draw and then we’ll talk.” 

I laugh, surprising myself with how loud and genuine it is. The suddenness aggravates the background soreness of a headache. I ignore it. “You’ve looked through his underwear drawer?” 

“It--” Stu cuts himself off with a sigh that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Our laughing fit ends as Billy stands up. “Where are you going?” 

He walks around the bed, barely glancing over at me to answer, “Give me a second.” ...Okay? “Don’t look through my underwear drawer.” 

“No promises,” Stu calls after him.

Billy doesn’t react, extending an arm and instinctually half-shutting the door. Stu adjusts, forcing himself to sit up. He’s farther back on the bed than me, but his legs are so long his knees are nearly level with mine. “We’re not really gonna do that are we?” 

Stu half laughs-half scoffs, wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyes together in pretend disgust. “I’m good.” I smile. “We can tell him we did, though.” 

“We should also tell him we found something really embarrassing.” Stu raises his eyebrows and I immediately regret it. I scoff, reaching back to smack his arm. “Not like that, I meant like a stuffed animal or something.” 

“Don’t you have stuffed animals?” 

My posture stiffens, a tiny part of me offended that he’s implying that my children are something I should be embarrassed about. “That’s different.” I frown, thinking of the one stuffed animal that lives on my bed and the few that live around my room. “And you said you liked them.” 

Stu never said that, but he has implied it. Nothing crazy, just a few debates between a duck my mom had given me as a child and a bear from my grandparents. He even asked about their names. 

He shrugs, turning towards me. His knee taps against mine. “I’m not complaining.” I narrow my eyes, skeptical if this is leading into some kind of joke. “As long as Daisy leaves Blueberry alone.” 

I fight down a laugh, because laughing would undo all of the work I’ve put in to convincing him that making up lore about my stuffed animals is something he should stop. “You made that up.” 

He tilts his head, “That’s what Daisy wants you to think.” 

“I don’t even think you actually remember which one’s Daisy and which one’s Blueberry.” 

Stu gasps like I’ve slapped him. “Daisy’s obviously the duck with the--the sweater--blue sweater with daisies--and Blueberry’s the bear in overalls.” 

This time, the giggle slips out. I’m still not convinced he’s not making fun of me in some way or setting up for some kind of joke, but the way he grins might make it worth it. “Too easy. Which one’s Jellybean?” 

He presses his lips together to demonstrate serious thought. “The...bookshelf one. The bunny with the--the ears.” Stu lifts a hand, using his fingers to try to draw something long and floppy in the air. “The grey one.” I grin. “And the last one’s French Fry, the dog on your desk for good luck.” 

“Okay,” I manage reluctantly, a confession pulled out like a tooth, “You did a good job.” 

Stu’s smile impossibly widens, reaching forward to wrap an arm around me. “I know my girl.” 

I sigh, mumbling a quick, “Not your girl.” Stu ignores me, squeezing me to him a little more confidently. “And you know I don’t actually think French Fry’s lucky anymore, he just lives there.” 

He scoffs, “Don’t talk about French Fry like that, babe, all he does is guard your homework.” 

I frown, craning my neck to look at him, “Are you making fun of me?” 

“No,” he breathes the word out in a way that makes it feel like the opposite of what it means. 

Some joke about how French Fry’s going to have to start guarding me from him is almost out of my mouth when something creeks. Billy’s opening the door, a glass in his hand. He extends the glass towards me. I take it instinctually, even though I have no idea what the water’s about.

“Drink,” Billy says, already moving to the other side of the bed, “For your head.” 

Ah. Not the first time Billy’s blamed an issue on me not drinking enough water. Even though I didn’t ask for anything, the gesture makes my chest feel warm. I take a few long sips. “Thanks.” 

Billy nods once, sitting at the edge of the bed. Stu twists himself to make it easier to look at Billy. “You know she just said French Fry’s not lucky.” 

“Wow,” Billy shrugs, a distinctly sarcastic lilt to his shock, “That’s blasphemous.” 

I roll my eyes before drinking some more water. “I just meant that I’m not like five and that I don’t actually think he can bark away the bad grades.” A barely covered laugh overlaps with the last of my words. I snap my head towards Billy. “What?” 

“Bark away the bad grades?” Okay, it sounds dumb now, but when I was younger the thought of doing my homework in the presence of French Fry was comforting. A school counselor recommended him to keep me calm during tests and now he’s just a good omen. “You just--you don’t seem like you were that weird a kid and then you say--” 

“I was not weird!” A little defensive for someone that was in the fourth grade with a stress plushy. “I was--I was like one of those kids that was basically an extra excited old person.” 

Stu’s arm slips off me as he adjusts the way he’s sitting. “Yeah, that sounds normal.” 

Really? After what’s been established about him? “Okay, bug boy.” 

He glares, openly offended. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“Sure.” 

“Okay.” Billy’s interjection tells me that he’s hitting his petty fight limit earlier today than usual. He only tries to preemptively intervene when he’s hitting a specific wall that Stu and I make people realize they have. “Before you guys start fighting like little kids, have you had lunch yet?” 

Unless you count a bowl of ice cream that ended up abandoned in my kitchen... 

Stu sits up a little more, “Nope.” He turns his head enough to look at me, “What about you, angel?” 

I tap my nails against my knee. “Not yet.”

“Wanna go to that pizza place?” Stu offers, already moving towards the edge of the bed to stand.

The thought of food isn’t particularly appealing, but I’ve moved past the stage of panic that made the thought of eating nauseating. What is nauseating is what could happen if I go out in public. Gale Weathers has been nonstop promoting her book. What if someone recognizes me? It was bad enough when the attack first happened and my school was buzzing with journalists...Now things are confirmed and Gale Weathers can’t keep my name out of her mouth. 

My grip on the glass of water tightens, “Sure.” 

“We can do something else if you want?” 

Ugh...a selfish part of me wishes I had it in me to pretend not to hear the hint of uneasiness in Stu’s voice. I could shake my head and say that pizza’s good, blame my hesitance on the beginnings of a migraine and sleep depravation. 

“It’s not...” Both of my hands grasp the glass. I press my thumb against the rim with enough tension to leave a red line indented into my skin. “She’s still talking about it and--and I saw some other show doing a segment on it and my name came up like three times in the five minutes that I watched.” 

It’s going to take over my life. Slowly but surely, it’ll take more and more. The buzz will die down and the side stares and not-so-mumbled comments will stop, because they did before. But then the book will come out and it will start again, and by the time it stops being super relevant it’ll be linked to my identity. Colleges will see it, any job that requires a background check will find it in seconds, and all it takes is for one person to find out and then it’s everywhere. 

What if I get into a great school and start making friends and then one person realizes they’ve seen my name before or looks into Gale’s career for whatever reason and then suddenly it’s everywhere? It’ll cling to me like a shadow, the label of victim the kind one and the conspiracy theorists... 

“You don’t have to put up with it.” Billy’s voice is low, almost unfeeling. I don’t get what he’s saying. Billy understands my question before I can ask. “The Gale thing--if she wants to use your name every two seconds to promote her book, you should let her know you’re not okay with it. Don’t make it easy for her, you’re not helpless.” 

The sharpness in his tone doesn’t feel aggressive, it’s urging. Honest. “Sorry, that was--” 

“Don’t be sorry.” I mean it. The directness and the lack of coddling forced me out of my the-world-is-ending spiral. My mom’s trying to track Gale Weathers down logically, but with someone that doesn’t mind playing underhanded to get what she wants, you have to work the same way. She ambushes people all the time. “I think I needed to hear it.” 

Gale’s office is probably in a public directory, and if it’s not, she’ll probably try to find me at school. There’ll be a chance to tell her off, a chance to stop her. Or at least, to get her to stop mentioning me like I’m a tagline. 

“We’ll take her down,” Stu encourages, gently bumping his fist against my arm, “After food.” He stands up, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “C’mon, if anyone looks at you, I’ll beat ‘em up.” 

I roll my eyes, letting Stu pull on my free hand until I stand up. “You offer to do that a lot. I think you just want to beat someone up.” 

“Nah, if I did, I’d just punch Billy.” 

Billy lets out an exhausted sigh as he stands. “Seriously?” 

“What? I’d say I’d punch her, but she scares me a little.” Considering how often Stu and I do fight each other, I really doubt it. “She fights dirty.” 

“Yeah.” Billy’s agreement comes out suspiciously fast as he opens the door. “I’ve seen her kick your ass.” 

----

a/n billy and stu when someone else takes advantage of y/n’s trauma: 🤯🤬

also next chapter should be a lot messier hehehe

Taglist:  @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc @kobababysblog @moved2burntrubbertoast @gamecrew209 @idkf-loll @wolfgirl-205 @ultimatequeenieofsass @kathanibennett @itsjuststaticnoises @brittney69 @domaniquessidehoe @kaydesssssssss @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @classicbandtrash83 @itzz-me-duh 

[aliorsboxostuff]

Idk if u will do this request but! Miguel’s time is like futuristic set right? ( trans people would just transition and be more accepted in this timeline sí right? 😭) so Miguel He went to college at a high prestige science university and so did reader for he is too an smart as him with his own creations in robotics and chemistry. Miguel had tried to get alone room accommodation but failed and got partnered up with transftm!reader and they became roommates. Reader fell in love with Miguel but he didn’t notice cuz he was too focused on his work and whatever. Years go by aka spider verse but suddenly miguel needs help from his old college roommate. Angst fluff maybe…smut??? Sorry English isn’t my first language 😭😭

Hey anon! I appreciate the idea and i love how much you fleshed it out! Dont worry, i completely understand your vision, and i get it english is hard for me too lol i hope i got your ideas right tho, sorry this turned into angst more than what i was aiming lmao enjoy all!

History

Tags: Miguel O’hara x FTM!Reader, Villain!Reader, Lyla, Past Relationship, Angst, Falling Out, Fighting, Arguments, Dirty Thoughts, Meet-Cute, Pining, Secret Crushes, Miguel is as dense as ever, poor reader on this one HAHA

They had a history. Of living together, spending time with each other, but despite all of that it all went downhill. Who knew your ex-roommate turns out to be Doc Oct

(Takes place before Post Credit Scene in into the Spiderverse)

—

"Miguel, I hate to tell you this but we can't-"

"There has to be another way, you designed this Lyla!"

"Hey! Don't blame the AI, blame the maker! I only followed what you said!" 

Lyla huffs and glitches to another part of the console. Miguel is currently hunched over a table in the corner of his lair, the only light illuminating his project is the light rod over his workbench and the monitors around him. 

The girl busies herself with schematics, working out equations and trying to find where they went wrong.

Miguel's latest work on the multiverse brace is to eliminate the glitches that it makes whenever someone uses it. It could potentially lead to wounds from the cells traveling to a different world, and even the healing factor won't fix it. Worst-case scenario, it would lead to a fatal wound, possibly death, and Miguel can't risk that if he's gonna start interdimensional travel. 

His eyes scan over the chip connected to his computer, adding and removing codings that might've gone wrong. He's wearing the headband Lyla gifted him, or mailed to him when it was his birthday months ago, to be exact. 

"I swear the shell is all good, Miguel. It should all contain the molecules needed for the portal bracelet,"

"Can you please stop calling it that?" 

"What? 'Portal'?"

"Yes. It's not a portal, we already have that," Miguel rolls his eyes, gluing them back to the screen.

"Then what are we calling it?" Lyla pouts, adjusting her heart glasses.

"Transdimensional Pathfinding Wristlet."

Lyla pauses her work, and turns to Miguel, her brows raised, the blinks once, twice. "Wh- seriously?" 

"Y'know what, I'm not even gonna try," He shakes her head before glitching to another monitor. "Leave it to the crazy scientist to name his things,"

Miguel ignores what his AI had said, instead focusing back on the chip. If this succeeds, it’ll be the first dimensional trip the prototype could make, and he’d prefer not to be a piece of burnt toast once he comes out of it. He coded another line, before he ran a diagnostic. The screen glares red, the annoyingly big letters of ‘ERROR’ pops up.

Miguel blinks, before he feels his claws coming out, promptly making him stand and throw his chair across the room. It shatters, the metal pieces clinking to the concrete floor. He heaves, sharp fangs bared, barely causing anger at his fingertips. 

Lyla fixes him with a look. “That your fifth chair Miguel,”

The man takes a steady breath, wiping his hand across his face, working at his jaw. He tilts his head sharply and something pops. He faintly hears Lyla clicking her tongue. 

"There's a guy I know,"

—

"What do you mean there isn't any- I booked a single room last week," 

"I'm sorry but there must've been a mishap in the system. I'm going to have to put you with an available roommate," 

"I don't want-" Miguel sighs, tapping his foot insistently. "Look, is there any way I can register for another single room?" 

"You can wait a couple of weeks for a vacant room, but you'd need to consult with the head of the faculty." She nodded to him, a regretful look behind those blonde bangs. Miguel huffs, hands on his hips, thinking out a decision. 

"Fine," He groans. "Who's still available for a roommate then?" 

The girl's brows raise before she quickly types something into the computer, reading out what looks like a list with numbers and names. "Oh!" She smiles. "Room 304, on the third floor is still awaiting a roommate,"

"Great, thank you," Miguel grumbles, already picking up his boxes where he left them on the floor.

"If you'd like-" The girl calls for him again. "I can talk to the faculty member, see if I can help you with the room situation," 

"Sure, I'd appreciate it," Miguel's back is already turned to her as he makes his way to the building's elevator. With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and the boxes of his unfinished work, traversing the hallway takes a bit of an effort. Students were not mingling around because most of them were already in their rooms, with the time turning just after 5 PM. 

Finally, he reaches the elevator doors. Miguel shuffles the boxes into one hand, struggling to press the button before he is beaten to it by another hand reaching for the ascend button too. 

"Here man, let me help you," The person says, already picking up the two boxes that cover Miguel's vision even before he said anything.

"Hey don't-" He begins, before he finally gets a good look at the person that dared to touch his scraps. The man in front of him, standing just inches taller than him, hair with an unintelligible style, captivating eyes and the faintest smirk on his lips. 

Miguel's brain stutters a bit. "I'm- nevermind, thanks," 

"Of course dude," And Miguel's interest plummets. "What floor?"

"Third please," He nods, pressing the button once he and Miguel get in. The door closes and leaves the two in silence, only the faint whirr of the elevator's machine. 

"So, late to dorm assignments?" 

"Nah, they messed up my request," 

"Shit, really?" He turns to Miguel, his brows furrowed. 

"Yeah, now I'm stuck with a damn roomie,"

"Oh yeah? What room?" 

"304, apparently," Miguel huffs, looking down into the box he's carrying, the tape on it peeling slightly. The guy halts, now his brows are raised. 

Miguel's turn to look confused, before the guy chuckles lightly. "Funny you say that 'cuz," 

"I'm room 304," He smirks, readjusting the boxes. 

There's a pause, before he feels the red of embarrassment gathers on his cheeks. "You're-" 

"That damn roomie? Yeah,"

"Fuck, sorry I didn't-"

"No no, it's fine! Really," The guy laughs, shaking his head while Miguel tries to formulate a coherent sentence. "I don't mind man, I get wanting your own space though," 

"Hey, I hope I'll be a good roomie," He bumps Miguel's shoulder lightly, his smile not fading. Miguel finds himself mimicking it slightly. After that, he introduced himself to Miguel, his major and such.

The elevator opens just after that, the two make their way down the hallway. He asks about Miguel's major too, just as they reach the door. 

"I seriously didn't think I'd get a roomie," He chuckles, turning the key with a million other key chains. It jingles, before he pushes the door open and into the room. "I'll go check with the front desk-" 

"Oh!" He turns after putting down the two boxes he was carrying. "Just got the text, said they'll give you the key tomorrow," 

"Great," Miguel rolls his eyes, putting down his box on the vacant desk and his duffle on the chair. He turns, inspecting the room that he's been sent to stay in. One side is already cluttered with his roommate's stuff, plants and books and papers strewn about. He tilts his head when he spots a flag on his desk.

"You're trans?" Miguel asks, turning to him where he was still standing with his phone out. He hums and lifts his head, meeting Miguel's browns.

"Oh that old thing? Yeah," He scratches the back of his neck. "I know, I get it. No one really cares nowadays, the worlds moved on, whatever," 

He glances at the little flag, pink and white and blue adding color to the messy desk. He smiles. "It's a reminder, I guess," 

Miguel stares at the flag, just once, before he nods and shrugs, turning to open his boxes. "Sure, that's cool," 

He can practically feel the sunshine radiating from his roommate behind him. He crosses his arms, turning again to face him, and he's right because his roommate has a really bright smile. "I hope we'll be good friends, Miguel," 

—

"Miguel there's so many people in Nueva York how am I supposed to-'' Lyla stops, before she grins. "Nevermind, found him!" 

Miguel finishes his spider shot, cracking his neck again as he sets the syringe down. He turns towards Lyla, the AI already projecting the location. "Looks like our guy lives in… the slums? I thought you said he was a prodigy," 

"Yeah well not everyone gets a decent job even if they are a genius," Miguel huffs, running his hand through his hair as he looks at the mirror.

"Who's you said the guy was again?" Lyla begins to scroll through the data. 

Miguel sighs. "Old roommate, back in college," 

"Ooh, interesting," She giggles.

"Lyla don't-" 

"I'm not looking through his history! Just a peek, though," 

Miguel lets out another sigh, walking towards the large opened window. "Uh, hey Miguel, are you sure about this?" 

"Why what's wrong?" 

Lyla displays her screen as it glitches in front of Miguel. According to her research, the old roomie has been caught by the police stealing items from hardware stores and electronic stores, a handful of accounts of disruption of peace according to the other tenants in his old apartment. And he's currently deemed missing.

"Where did you say his location was?" Miguel reads through the file, his brows knitted. 

"Just here, some abandoned warehouse in the slums," 

—

“Miguel, man, you’ve got to eat,” A tray for warm food was suddenly placed between Miguel's paperwork. He huffs, pushing the plate away and to the edge of his already small table. He hears a sigh, before the plate is moved out of his peripherals, and Miguel is back into his work.

“Dude, you only ate like, one energy bar after going to the gym,” 

“I’m fine,” 

Another exasperated sigh, before his roommate goes back to whatever robotics he was working on. Miguel has been perfecting his latest assignment the whole week, going back and forth on his computer, writing down research papers and consulting with his professors. Meanwhile, the man that he shares his room with is tinkering with a recent robotic piece he’s been pouring his heart into.

It’s correct that they share most of their schedule together. Miguel would wake up before dawn, and so would he. They’d run a couple of laps around campus before hitting the gym just before it gets too crowded. He’d spot for Miguel while Miguel would comment on his form if it needs any improvement. Sometimes they’d share breakfast together, before they head for their different classes, though ever since Miguel has been engrossed in his recent paperwork, their time spent together has been blessed. It'd be a lie to say Miguel doesn't miss their shared time, but he supposes seeing him back in their room after a long day is enough. Though, it doesn't seem enough for his friend. 

Unbeknownst to Miguel, his roommates have been supporting a devastating crush on him. Stolen glances, longing eyes whenever Miguel's back is turned towards him. Times when he’d stare a bit too long whenever Miguel was doing his bench presses, times when he’d stand close just to feel the comforting warmth beside him. He’d fuss over Miguel, bringing food or drinks, bringing things Miguel might've forgotten with his busy schedule. Sometimes, when Miguel worked too late and too much, he’d fall asleep on his desk, at which he’d bring his blanket to cover Miguel’s back. In the morning, he rolls his eyes and says something about Miguel getting a bad back, which Miguel would promptly ignore. 

It’s currently Friday night. The man that's sitting on the opposite side of the room has seemingly lost interest in his robotics and decided to peer out of their bedroom window. Suddenly, Miguel is bombarded by a loud shout coming from outside of their room, and snaps quickly to the source. He sees his roommate has opened the bedroom window and is looking out into the campus’ courtyard. 

“Yeah, I'll join you! Be right down!” He hollers, before he shuts and locks the window. Miguel turns, blinking away the slight dizziness he got. 

“Who was that?” 

“A friend, they're having a party at one of the frat houses, you wanna join?” He grins, pulling on his leather jacket and pocketing his belongings. Miguel has never been to a party and he's not about to start going, especially when he has a deadline to push. He shakes his head, always swiveling back his chair. 

“No thanks,” 

He hears his friend scoff. “Come on Miguel! You’ve been working on that thing for ages now, you deserve a break, and the deadline isn't for another month!” 

“I’m not interested,” Miguel bites back, barely glancing at his pleas. 

“Just this once, I promise it’ll be fun! I’ll be there and I can take care of-”

“I said I'm not interested.” He spits out, already hunching into the part he’s soldiering. He doesn't hear anything, not an answer or another push for him to join. The air has changed, something heavy hangs between them. The tension is palpable, but despite it all Miguel only hears the shuffling of his friend's boots. 

“Sure, whatever,” His roommate fixes a stare at the back of Miguel's head, before he unlocks their door. “Y’know, one of these days that work of yours is going to destroy you if you're not careful,” 

And with that, he leaves Miguel alone for the night. 

—

“What the fuck!” Miguel jumps and manages to hold on to the side of the building. “Lyla searches for his weakness points!”

“Hah! You think this has a weakness, Miguel?!” The man shouts, a wide grin on his lips. “I’ve perfected these arms, they are practically indestructible!” 

“SO this is how you greet your old roommate?” 

“I’d prefer for us to meet for coffee, but after how you treated me, I think this…” He brings a menacing robotic arm towards him, as if to inspect it. “Is way better,” 

The arm suddenly lunges towards Miguel which he narrowly avoids. He jumps and entwines two of the appendages together as he lands behind the man, at which he growls and breaks free of Miguel’s red webs. “I never treated you badly!”

“No, not really huh,” He smirks. “But you never noticed the shit I did for you anyways!” 

He spears those sharp arms towards Miguel which he does a couple of doges before jumping down the rooftop they were currently fighting on. 

“All of those morning coffees, late dinners, all for nothing! None! All because you were so fucking focused-” He sharply turns, grabbing Miguel’s wrist and stopping him from dropping a punch. He suddenly pulls Miguel towards him, burning anger behind those eyes. “On combining a damn spider's DNA with yourself!” 

He throws the Spiderman across the street, breaking several walls until the momentum finally stops. Miguel groans, cracking his neck when Lyla suddenly pops up. “Boss, the control panel for those arms is on his back, if you could pull it apart from him, it’ll stop him from controlling it,”

“On it.” Miguel swiftly stands, running through the many rooms he passed before leaping into the air, catching the man off guard. He throws a punch that lands on his face, throwing him off balance and into the concrete street below. He grows, and fixes his jaw, before launching back to full force against Miguel. 

“It was all fine until you went out with that fucking brunette!” He shouts, throwing debris towards Miguel which he weaves and dodges. “Did I ever mean anything to you?!”

He’s got Miguel pinned to the ground, and pushes all of the arms to stab at him, but instead misses and gets buried in the ground instead when Miguel swiftly pulls away with his web. He struggles to get the appendages out of the strong concrete, suddenly finding them stuck, an opportunity for Miguel to rip the control panel off. He swings above the man, landing directly behind him where he quickly digs his nails into the seams of the panel. 

“I’m sorry,” Miguel manages before he pulls. An ear-splitting scream, before deathly silence. Miguel could only hear his heavy breath, before sparks of green ran through the man's body, and it jolted him. He shouts, before falling into the pavement. Miguel takes a beat to examine the control panel, before throwing it somewhere on the ground. He spots the bareback of his once roommate, a horrid sight of root-like marks growing around the man's back. Miguel furrows his brows, before he hears the faint police sirens, no doubt coming over to clean up the commotion. 

Just as Miguel was about to make his leave, he heard the man cough, a horrid groan behind him. Miguel glances slightly, as he hears him begin to speak. 

“I was right… Your work did destroy you.”

Requests are opened! Remember to reblog!

[ashtraythief]

hello

I'm addicted to the underneath verse, so much so that I must have read it more times than I can count.

it's so well written and I love everything about it, except the fear for Jensen’s life and for him loosing his jared.

now for the stupid part, I love bottom Jensen fics and I love obsessed and possessive jared, but I can't enjoy it because of the age difference.

i know, stupid.

so I do this thing in my head were I read it but keep reminding myself that they are the same age or Jensen is a little bit younger.

my stupid question which I hope you answer anyway if you can, is why did you keep their real age, what if jared had a complete dominance over Jensen, size as well as age too.

i felt a twinge in my heart when jared said to him "is it because of the age difference"?

when Jensen caught him having a good time with the twink 😡

also what do you think about the age thing in general, lije how do you prefer it to go, and why?

thank you for your beautiful writings ♥️

Thank you so much for your kind words about the underneath verse!

This is kind of a layered question, but I’m gonna do my best.

First, I have to say that while your kink is not my kink, no kink is stupid and you don’t have to apologize for it. It’s something you enjoy, for whatever reason, and that’s totally fine!

The whole age gap thing is for various reasons difficult for me and my opinion and the way I write it has changed over the years. I don't really want to go into that too much, but I'll try to answer your questions as best as possible.

The simple answer for the age difference in the underneath verse is that I kept it how it is in real life. Four years isn’t that much when you’re in your late twenties/early thirties, anyway, so it’s not an age gap that makes me go huh, age gap, that’s going to have an impact on the story. And I usually keep their age gap in whatever story I write unless the setup requires something else, i.e. if one of them is a supernatural creature like a vampire.

The in-universe answer is that I wanted Jensen to have realistic job experience. As far as my research went, the FBI generally requires a college degree or/and work experience. And then I wanted Jensen to have FBI work experience. He’s supposed to be very good at what he does and I think that’s something that comes with experience.

And then I just fitted Jared’s timeline to the age he’d have in relation to Jensen and it worked out pretty well. There was no reason why the plot wouldn't work with him at that age, so I had no reason to change it. Actually, I thought it worked out pretty well. It gave Jared enough time to become powerful but early enough that the FBI would go after so hard.

And as for the whole dominance angle, I think I disagree with your opinion that age automatically equates dominance or rather that dominance requires a greater age. (And that’s fine! Different strokes and all that.) While age can play a very significant factor in dominant behavior, it doesn’t have to. For me, age has nothing to do with dominance in the bedroom, certainly not when it's as small as four years. Age gaps can play a role when it comes to experience and confidence, but it doesn't influence whether you like to be dominant or submissive. I totally understand that the image can be appealing and your kink is your kink and it's valid, but it's not one I particularly share. I usually keep the Js rl age gap (tradition at this point? Idk) and it doesn't influence how I write them in bed or their relationship dynamic. If you've read more of my stuff, you know that I write them with all sorts of dynamics and I usually just keep it the rl age gap but I also wouldn't mind shrinking it.

(There are pairings tho where I'm more fixed in the dynamic I enjoy. JDM will always be a toppy bastard to me in bed 😅 but then that could also be JDM-specific and unrelated to his age).

For the underneath verse I also didn’t want Jared to have absolute dominance. In the underneath verse, there's a balance and while Jared is definitely sexually dominant, I'd argue that their power balance in their relationship actually tilts in Jensen's favor. If I had written Jared older than Jensen, I don't think it would have made much of a difference honestly. Jared might have been a little more level-headed, but then you don't grow out of anger issues if you don't work on them. Maybe he'd be more jaded and it would have taken him longer to fall for Jensen, but if Jared were say 38 instead of 28 when they met, it wouldn't have changed anything about their relationship.

As for Jared's question whether it's the age thing, that was a reflection of Jared's very heteronormative attitude towards relationships. I do think for Jared there's a correlation of young and submissive that he sought out on his hookup and the prized value of youth for beauty. Before Jensen, the guys he hooked up with were part of his image and he mirrored what the other powerful rich guys were doing who were all very straight. And these kind of powerful men surround themselves with young beautiful women because that's what's valued in our wonderful and not at all fucked up society. And so Jared did the same, just with guys. Considering how attracted he is to Jensen shows that he's not exclusively attracted to youth and that age doesn't matter all that much to him. I don’t think there was a single moment where Jared thought about Jensen’s age as a significant factor in any way. But he still knows how youth is valued in beauty so that’s why he asks Jensen that question. And I think when Jensen turns the question back on him, Jared immediately says that he doesn't care about that.

I hope that answers your question, nonnie!

TL, DR: While I can enjoy and have written fics where one character is possessive and dominant, for me that only works in specific kink scenarios. When it comes to plot fics where I flesh out a relationship, I enjoy a more even power balance (unless it's specifically a dystopia). I’ve written all kinds of kinky stuff for this fandom though, so my attitude toward this is always let your kink flag fly. We all have an id to feed and as long as we’re all polite and respectful about it and use the appropriate tags, everyone can have a good time. So feel free to imagine the Js of the same age or Jared older if that helps you enjoy this fic. Honestly, aging Jared up here really wouldn’t change much in my opinion (except, you know, Jared’s refractory period 😅) and it wouldn’t change their dynamic.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt

Hi, im fucking trash for the idea of Geralt being the front man for a Five Finger Death Punch type band and my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. This music genre is my bread and butter and I think Geralt’s repressed but highly emotional ass would fit right in. Yes im using another Hozier song, no i dont wanna hear anything about it. I’m a basic bitch and ive made my peace with it

Warnings: i honestly have no idea, its a little horny, little emotional, but theres no actual character interaction?, its at a concert venue? idk yall.

_________________________

Jaskier was… out of his comfort zone.

It’s not that he didn’t like the grunge-metal music, he just hadn’t listened to much and he was not used to the energy. People were yelling and screaming and the opener hadn’t even come on yet. He didn’t feel unsafe, far from it. Several people had checked to see if he was okay, seeing as he was the only person in the entire arena wearing a sweater that wasn't ripped or faded to hell. It was just a far cry from the shows he was used to. 

He played folky-blues. This was nothing like his shows. 

When the lights went down the crowd was deafening, all moving as one to rush the front of the floor, not giving a single fuck about tickets. 

The openers were exciting, and Jaskier was surprised by some of the concepts and messages behind the music. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all and he found himself searching them up on Spotify to listen later. 

Then came The Witchers. 

Eskel and Lambert made their energetic entrance, followed by Aiden calmly walking to his drums and sitting as if he were walking into a college class. But Geralt was nowhere in sight. The one person Jaskier had actually come to see. 

He’d seen a video clip from a previous concert where they covered one of his songs, and he was praying they’d do it again. It was lovely in a haunting-almost-threatening way, and the expression in Geralt’s posture alone was enthralling. He had to see it live. 

But Geralt was still absent as the band started to build a song. First Aiden with the beat, then Eskel’s bass, then Lambert with a melody on his electric guitar. It built and built and built to a fever pitch, taking the crowd with it. People were already jumping and screeching. Jaskier had to stand on his seat to see the stage clearly. 

Geralt’s voice echoed through the venue, low and closer to a growl than singing, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

Jaskier thought he’d been prepared, but his whole body was covered in goosebumps. He briefly wondered if this was what his friends were feeling when they listened to ASMR.

Geralt remained hidden for the whole first verse, getting the crowd even more excited than Jaskier thought possible, only for the band to go completely silent for a whole measure. When the crowd's screams reached their absolute loudest, Geralt dropped from on top of one of the jumbotrons, landing on one of the horse-sized speakers before launching into the chorus. 

Oh fuck, he was even more beautiful in person. 

He was… well he was a beast of a man. Jaskier really didn’t have another word for the way his muscles bulged and how lithe and powerful he looked springing from the speaker to join his bandmates on the main stage. His thighs filled out his black, tattered jeans and there were clear faded spots where his muscles strained the fabric too often. The thin black tank he wore did nothing but pretend the man was semi-modest. It was so tight, the only thing left up to the imagination was tan lines and the color of his nipple piercings. 

Jaskier was most entranced by his long, white, wavy hair falling past his shoulders. As the show continued and he started to sweat, a lot, it got curlier and curlier at the root. Jaskier wanted to give him a mask and some curl cream, but only after a, uhm, rough night of getting to know each other. He’d heard rumors about Geralt from hitting arenas not long after they’d left. He was quite sure they’d have a great time.

As he focused on the lyrics more and more, he was more inclined to want to wrap Geralt up in a hug and worship every part of him until he felt whole again. 

Either he’d been shown the shitty side of the genre, or The Witchers were exceptions to the rule of content. Jaskier was almost moved to tears a few different times.

Finally, about an hour into Jaskier mindlessly feasting his eyes on the front man, Geralt leapt onto another speaker and sat down, breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear. 

“You still with us?”

The unholy screech from the crowd left no doubt they were just as excited, if not more so, than when they’d arrived. 

“Good! Good..” he trailed off, chuckling as he lowered the mic to take a breath, “We’re gonna slow it down for a minute,” he leaned forward and held the mic away as Eskel shouted something up at him to which he laughed and flipped him off. 

“As I was saying, we’re gonna yearn for a minute or two and do a cover. Song by Jaskier called ‘Talk’.”

The crowd lost their shit again, various pride flags popping up throughout the stands. 

Geralt chuckled and raised his combat boot, showing off the bi flag colored treads, earning another round of screams. If this is what the grunge-metal scene was like, Jaskier had been missing out his entire life. Sure his fans were sweet and supportive and loving when he’d come out. But this was electric and feral and completely addictive.

Lambert struck the opening chord to Jaskier’s song and the crowd settled to a gentle hum, setting the tone immediately, as if they all knew exactly what was coming. 

Geralt closed his eyes as he tapped his thigh with one finger, keeping time before his rumbling baritone hit Jaskier like a freight train. 

“I’d be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found…”

Jaskier could have collapsed right there. He knew he was staring like a lovesick idiot, but hell, everyone around him was too. When the chorus hit and Eskel came in with a heavy bass line he nearly fell off his chair. Geralt’s intensity raised with the addition of the backup but he didn’t move. He stayed seated, swaying slightly, with his eyes closed as he crooned out the words Jaskier had sobbed as he wrote, broken hearted and miserable. 

It was surreal. 

Sure he’d seen other covers. Sure they’d been lovely. But he wanted to listen to this and only this as he fell asleep for the rest of his life. He’d never play it again if he could only hear it one more time. 

After the last verse Lambert launched into a guitar solo while Geralt jumped off the speaker and meandered to the center of the stage to slot his mic back in it’s stand. He gripped it like a lifeline when Lambert held one last note for as long as his instrument would allow and only started singing the last chorus when it was almost silent. 

“I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we could do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you”

His expression looked hopeless and utterly desperate as he crooned out the last two lines. He let his hair fall to cover his face and Jaskier could just barely hear his panting breath over the sound system as the crowd exploded. Geralt tipped his head back and took two deep breaths before straightening up and getting on with the show but Jaskier was stuck. 

He was vaguely aware of someone taking a picture of him, but he really couldn’t care less. The fact that Geralt moved right on to a song called ‘Burn Motherfucker Burn’ didn’t matter either. 

Jaskier jumped down from his arena seat, whipping out his phone and sending the band a tweet, because apparently that’s what musicians did now?

“Record it. Please. It’s either that or sing me to sleep every night. You choose.”

He stayed for the rest of the show and walked to his car in a haze. Before he backed out of his spot he checked his phone like always and his heart nearly stopped at the two top notifications. 

One public reply: “Both? -G”

And one direct message: “If you’re still here and want to grab a drink, I’m just backstage.” 

[sneezefiction]

of night owls & early birds

Kuroo x Reader

desc: Kuroo, your roommate and longtime best friend, likes you but he really dislikes your sleep schedule. alternatively, your crush gets up way too early and you “suffer the consequences.”

a/n: the irony of working on this fic at 5 am doesn’t escape me… but it also hasn’t assuaged my awful sleep patterns. i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: school/general anxiety, crass/offbeat humor (jokes about planning your own funeral), idk if you’re scared of love don’t read this - it’s very fluffy.

wc: 3.6k

--- You’re screwed, you think, as a light flickers on just outside of your room. It illuminates the carpet underneath your doorway with a warm orange tint.

And though it shouldn’t make your heart jump into your throat, it does.

You’d promised, swore to Kuroo, that you’d be asleep by 2 am - and to him, even that was a stretch. But he should count himself lucky that you’d even agreed to his demands at all. 

After all, he is well-versed in the world of night owls.

Kenma, though maybe not your kindred spirit, shares at least a couple of qualities with you. Kuroo likes refer to these “qualities” as crimes.

One of these crimes (and quite possibly Kuroo’s least favorite) is your god-awful sleep schedule. And you’re a repeated offender.

There was only so much nagging and bickering you could take before you’d cracked and told exactly him what he wanted to hear. In a flurry of words, you’d agreed to turn off your laptop, close up your textbooks and actually put your head to a pillow.

You also may have been bribed.

To sweeten this deal, Kuroo had promised to buy you pizza this upcoming Friday, given that you actually did get some rest.

But as you reluctantly lift your phone, the glass screen glowing a little too brightly, you realize that it’s already 5:30 am.

You grimace.

It’s Tuesday morning. Meaning that the repetitive beeping across the hall is Kuroo’s alarm.

Your lips press into a firm line. Most birds don’t even get up at such a godless hour.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a functional morning routine. Or a morning routine at all.

Leaning back in your plastic desk chair, you squeeze your eyes shut. 

It stings.

You probably got so caught up staring at the blob-like words on your computer screen that, somewhere in the process, your body had forgotten how to blink.

And while the tension in your neck and shoulders is painful, it’s nothing in comparison to the festering guilt of not listening to your longtime best friend and now roommate (a suspiciously well-intentioned college boy who had somehow managed to win your heart over the course of this fall semester.)

Thinking back, working on your final English assignment at midnight wasn’t the brightest of ideas. It wasn’t even due for another week. But as due dates loomed, the impending fear of a bad grade had begun to burrow deeply within you.

If you could just pump the brakes on deadline anxiety, you wouldn’t feel so pressured to type incoherent sentences at odd and empty hours of the night.

And maybe Kuroo wouldn’t feel the need to coerce you into a firmer sleep schedule. Though you do find this caring habit of his to be inexplicably endearing. 

Thus, the prickling feeling continues to infiltrate your restless mind and the brewing concoction of anxiety and guilt in your tummy makes you feel uneasy.

But before you can sneak into bed and tuck yourself inconspicuously under the covers, you hear a floorboard creak. 

As if on instinct, you hold in a breath.

Kuroo isn’t one to forget about little promises. Of course, he’d want to know if you’d made good on your side of the deal. 

Gently, you close your laptop and swivel your chair to face the door. You still your movements, keeping your body taut against the back of your chair.

More soft steps fall just outside of your room.

Your eyes can’t pick a place to land, so they choose to wander. And with a quick scan of your room, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your bedside lamp had been left on - an instant giveaway.

You begin planning for your funeral. 

However, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t go out this way. You prepare yourself for death by interrogation or shame-induced coma.

Regrettably, neither options seem very interesting to you. If you ask politely, maybe your friends will engrave a portion of an epic poem into your gravestone just to make your passing seem more sophisticated. Yeah, that sounds nice and pretentious.

Okay, you might be overdramatizing things - Kuroo would never send you to your grave. But that doesn’t change the fact that your psyche likes to play tricks on you in the wee hours of the morning and that the eerie quality of the atmosphere somehow reminds you of a cemetery.

As you sort through who-gets-what on your will, there’s a not so sudden knock on your door. The soft tap makes your heart skip for two reasons:

The first being that you still haven’t gotten used to the fluttering in your chest from him being present all the time. Developing a crush on him (and suspecting feeling on his side) had made you a little jumpier over the past few months.

And the second had to do with the fact that you were actually going to have to talk to him about this. To apologize for being a bold-faced liar. It wasn’t clear to you whether you’d be teased or reprimanded. And honestly? You’re not sure which option would feel worse.

So you take a breath and steel yourself.

“Y/n?” A gravelly voice sounds from outside your room.

It’s tainted with sleep. You shiver.

There’s a preemptive sigh, “C’mon y/n, your light is on. I know you’re awake.”

You’ve been caught, so there’s no point in prolonging it.

“...You can come in.” You reply meekly, clenching and unclenching your fists.

The door cracks open.

That soft orange hall light floods into your room and directly into your eyes. With a squint, you try to fully visualize Kuroo. He’s positioned himself so that he’s leaning in your doorway with his arms crossed.

Before coming to grips with the situation, you scan the boy up and down. Amusingly, you realize that he has to duck his head just to fit underneath the door header - he really is tall. You have to wonder if he’ll ever stop growing.

Aside from his intensified bedhead (which doesn’t shock you) and the sleepiness in his eyes, he looks normal. But you must look positively spooked, because the moment he sees you, there’s a flicker of humor in his golden eyes… and an almost invisible smirk.

At least he isn’t angry. That fact alone allows you to let out the breath you’ve been holding in. Anger isn’t really a trait you’d ascribe to him anyway.

“It’s funny…” He wonders aloud, “I thought we’d agreed to something yesterday.” Kuroo brings a mocking hand to his chin in a thinking motion.

Your body naturally begins to shrink into your seat. You want to sigh, protest, explain yourself… anything to keep him from lecturing you. But, technically, you deserve this. 

“I’m pretty sure you promised me you’d be in bed, asleep,” He emphasizes “by 2 am…”

“And” he adds, motioning evenly to your set up, “I highly doubt you’re up early just to get work done.”

You bite your lip while gripping and releasing the fabric of your sweatpants.

Kuroo isn’t a mind reader by any extent, but the body has a language of its own. Right now, your actions are murmuring signs of discomfort. And exhaustion, according to your dark circles.

Kuroo heaves out something between a sigh and a yawn before he takes another couple of steps into your room. 

The sound of mattress springs and rustled bed sheets gets you to turn your head toward him, though you hesitate to meet his gaze.

He makes himself comfortable.

This is a familiar scene, Kuroo invading your space. Well, it’s less of an invasion and more of an unspoken agreement that the both of you can ‘come and go as you please’ in regards to bedrooms, granted that the “invader” knocks first.

Essentially, if Kuroo wanted company, he would find his way to you and plop himself on the edge of your bed. You would do likewise. The interaction could last 5 minutes or 3 hours depending on your mental stamina that day.

In a way, it mimicked your childhood - going over to Kenma’s and knocking relentlessly on his bedroom door until he finally let you and Kuroo tumble through the doorway together. The only difference now is in the way that you spend time together. Conversations become deeper a lot faster. Belly-laughs after a miserable day of classes are considered sacred. Study sessions are done shoulder to shoulder and with a myriad of disgusted faces when frustrated with a particularly tricky problem.

But this is different from your usual conversations. It’s sickeningly early, you haven’t slept a wink, and a tidal wave of stress from this entire semester is finally crashing into you.

“I’m sorry,” You start softly, fiddling with your fingers, “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about this expository essay I’ve been working on and my mind is totally numb. I’m so stressed out by all of these-”

“-Classes.” He finishes for you.

You swallow, bobbing your head softly in confirmation.

 “I get it.”

And just by looking at him, you know he understands. For someone so laid back and put together, Kuroo’s eyes could speak a novel’s worth of emotion and information at any given moment.

“But you’ve already spent more than enough time on it.”

Have I really? Have I actually done enough? Because it feels like I’m failing. Like I can’t seem to finish what I’ve started. I can’t even complete this paper.

But at least Kuroo sounds resolute. 

He’s stating a fact, not an opinion.

And he’s not trying to be unempathetic. He does get it, he really does.

But Kuroo also sees how hard you work already. And he knows all too well that there’s only so much work you can get done in one night. You’ve got enough on your plate even without your classes, so having the extra academic pressure is just the cherry on top.

“Mm,” you hum, “yeah, I guess you of all people would know.” You hunch over and rest your elbows on your thighs, using your hands to prop your head up.

He’d been there at your most and least productive moments. On days when you were cranking out a few thousand words and nights when you could only jot down a few sentences. Hell, Kuroo had even volunteered to help you edit and format it when the time came. What kind of person offers to do that before they’ve even been asked to?

It’s just another feature of his charm, you suppose.

But you still feel stuck. Like you’re a boat stranded in the middle of the ocean and you just can’t seem the muster up the strength to pull up the anchor. The anxiety lingers.

“...It just doesn’t feel like it’s ever enough, y’know?” You breathe out.

There it is. Finally out in the open.

And Kuroo hums thoughtfully to himself.

He’s been there.

Not knowing if the effort he put into his work was having any actual effect. Being unsure as to when he should stop taking responsibility for something. Putting work, classes, and people before himself.

It’s draining; a swirling spin-cycle of exhaustion.

But he’s also been learning that “enough” is subjective. So he decides to say just that.

“Enough is a pretty vague word, don’t you think?”

You blink. 

Yeah, you suppose it is. 

Hopefully this isn’t another one of his bizarre epiphanies - the kind that makes you think your brain is going to implode. Sometimes Kuroo could be a little too philosophical for his and your own good. But you humor him anyway.

Shifting in your seat, you give him a stiff nod.

Satisfied with your understanding, he proceeds with his thought.

“What I mean is that we probably have totally different definitions of enough...” he drawls on, “... and different standards too.”

“Okay...”

“What I mean is that-” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “-what’s ‘enough’ to you may not be ‘enough’ to me. And vice versa.”

Kuroo tilts his head back, brows furrowing in thought. He’s grasping for the right way to put it.

“Y/n, I think you’ve done enough. You’ve worked hard,” he points out, “and I don’t think I know anyone who deserves a break more than you do.”

That makes you pause. You lift your head up to catch his gaze - his eyes are already studying your expression. Something inside of you stops functioning because never have you seen such raw sincerity. Or maybe you have, but you’re only just now noticing it.

He gives you a gentle smile. It makes your chest ache.

“You mean it?” You half-whisper.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’ve known this for years now, but Kuroo truly has a way with words. They had the ability to pierce like a harpoon or stick sweetly to you like warm honey. Even with a few (thousand) shitty jokes littered throughout your conversations, it’s only natural to be awestruck by him. By his ability to make even the most awkward of situations a little more bearable. How he subliminally knows how to soothe and temper you. You think he would make a really great businessman - he’s quite persuasive; a real salesperson.

One part of you wants to apologize to him again. Another part wants to jump up and kiss him. To tear up and cry in his arms with relief. You chalk these potential reactions up to exhaustion and hormones… but you don’t write them off entirely.

Because suddenly being 3 feet apart feels like miles. And your bed is looking terribly comfortable.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask, but you’re already moving from your seat.

He gives you an indifferent shrug - though he feels anything but.

“It’s your bed.” 

Oh, you’re well aware of that fact. You can already feel heat rising to your face.

You stand up slowly, raising your arms to the ceiling in one final attempt to stretch. Then softly, you place a knee to the mattress and wedge yourself on the rest of the way until you’re sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He shifts his torso so that it’s facing you.

And now that you’re finally eye to eye, you can breathe.

He may be your crush, but you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. You always have. It’s part of what makes Kuroo... well, Kuroo. He embodies security while still pushing you out of your comfort zone. And for that, you’re grateful.

You break the silence.

“I really am sorry,” you echo your earlier apology.

You undoubtedly are. And you’re not sure why it feels like such a heavy thing to say over something as menial as a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, hey,” He soothes, reaching a hand over to ruffle your hair, “it’s no big deal, alright?”

You send him a half-hearted glare but it immediately breaks into a soft smile. His hand lingers for a moment longer than it should before he draws it away. You miss the teasing touch.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye-contact, but even as you look away, you note that his eyes remain concentrated on you. You can’t tell if it’s you who has moved closer or if he has. Either way, those few inches of distance have narrowed by a decent margin.

“I honestly just wanted you to get some rest. You’ve had it rough and by the looks of it-” He scans your face like he’s trying to diagnose you with something.

“Hey, watch it-” You warn, narrowing your eyes.

You already know you look tired. Kuroo loves reminding you of that in his own little way.

He smirks playfully, continuing anyway.

“-You could really use the sleep.” Kuroo’s raspy voice trails off.

“But apparently even pizza isn’t a convincing enough strategy.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

You shake your head, “Oh no, no, the pizza was very convincing.”

He scoffs, “Was it, now?” Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Because you seem very awake to me.”

“Can’t we just blame this on the paper, please?” You sigh.

He furrows his brows in contemplation, “Hmm, no. I don’t think so. This is partially your fault.” A rather underwhelming response.

“A small part.”

“I’d say it's fifty-fifty.” He reasons with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Okay, you can quit whatever-” You gesture to his expression, “this is.” He always managed to pull the strangest faces and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh.

He snorts, “Oh? I thought you liked-” Kuroo gestures to his own face, “whatever this is.”

His voice has a curious edge to it. Some might even call it flirtatious.

And you go quiet. 

You can’t help but stare at him. His messy hair, his barely parted lips. The fact that Kuroo just woken up and somehow still looks this attractive to you is so annoying. So frustrating.

And words are failing you.

It was an innocent comment. He’s just messing with you like he usually does. Maybe this has all gone a little bit too far. You should probably just say good night (or good morning) and rest your eyes.

Yet you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the perfect segway into addressing your relationship.

At literally any other time of day, you might be more rational. You could reason with yourself that this is quite literally the weirdest time to bring up your feelings for him. But something in you needs to close the literal and figurative gap between you two. And, for some indecipherable reason, it has to happen right now.

Whatever the outcome, you trust that Kuroo will always be your safe place.

So you throw caution to the wind.

“Actually, Kuroo…” You begin, staring at your hands which are placed neatly on your lap. “I really do.”

His eyes snap to yours.

This time it’s Kuroo’s turn to go silent in contemplation. Taking in a steady breath becomes an act of labor.

“You… really do what?” He asks slowly, grasping for your intended meaning.

Your heart pounds.

“I really like you.” You clarify.

It isn’t at all eloquent, but it’s sincere. You’d once heard that honesty came easier late at night, but you had no idea that it applied to early mornings as well.

But you finally make sense of the words that just escaped your lips. Panic arises. In an attempt to hide, you bury your face in your hands. You wish you could put the words right back into your mouth.

“I-” You take a deep breath, “I think I spoke without thinking.” Is all you allow yourself to mumble.

You no longer trust yourself with words. 

Your face, your whole body really, feels like it’s on fire. Humiliation begins to wash over you in red hot waves… but you startle when a pair of hands meet your wrists.

You lift your head.

His fingertips are warm and worn. Still decorated with calluses from his years of volleyball back in high school. You want to question why the world has withheld this touch from you for so long.

He lures your hands away from your face, grasping both of them gently. For a sensation so new, it was somehow strikingly familiar. A thumb is meditatively tracing small, slow circles in the middle of your palm.

You gawk in disbelief… and as you scan his face, you catch a hint of pink on his cheeks. You can’t say anything though - your own face feels like it’s just become 1000 degrees warmer.

“I kinda figured you might,” Kuroo breaks the tension rather… bluntly.

Of course he did, wait what?

“But the thing is…”

Is this some sort of rejection? Is he just letting you down gently? Is that why he’s holding your hands like they’re as fragile as fine china? Then why is he looking at you so sweetly, so tenderly-

“I wanted to be the one to say it first.”

You start planning your own funeral again. 

However, this time, emotional whiplash will be your stated cause of death. At least it’s a more unconventional way to go out.

“I- uh,” you swallow, “w- what did you just say?” It comes out as a stammer. 

You’re squeezing his hands a little too tightly. When you recognize your modest death grip around his fingers you loosen your hold.

Kuroo smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly.

It’s nothing like that cunning smirk that you find annoying, yet so adorable. It’s also not one of his full-scale grins. It’s far too simple and reassuring. You almost don’t trust it.

“Well, in short, I like you too,” He re-explains, searching your face for a reaction, “but... I’d hoped to tell you that over pizza on Friday.” Kuroo looks away.

If you weren’t already gaping over his personal confession, you would probably be laughing at this new side of Kuroo. He looks unmistakably bashful.

It takes you a second to recover, but you finally open your mouth to respond...

But you’re cut off by Kuroo, once again. His softened expression is long gone. And, much to your dismay, he’s suddenly shifting himself off of your bed.

“It’s just too bad you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain. I guess that means there’ll be no pizza… no movie… no me.” He slowly releases your hands, knitting his brows together to feign sorrow - it looks hilariously forced, but you’re too worried about the warmth leaving your fingertips to care.

He’s teasing you like you’re his best friend.

And that’s because you are.

So then why does it feel like something’s changed? Like he’s daring you to make the next move?

Before he can pull away and leave, you tug at his hand which draws his whole body toward you.

Your heartrate spikes through the roof. When’s the last time you’ve been this close to someone? To a guy? A guy who’s shown actual living, breathing interest in you.

And he’s in your face.

Close enough that his scent, his cologne, is drowning your senses. Close enough that his breath is fanning faintly against your cheek. Close enough that you know there’s only one thing left for you to do.

Before you can think to hesitate, your lips are brushing up against his.

Intuitively, he brings his hands to your face, closing any extra distance. 

Kuroo’s thumb feathers over your cheekbone, stroking it tenderly. His lips apply very little pressure and it’s unbearably delicate, but it fills you with an indescribable warmth. His lips linger just long enough for you to detect the mint from his toothpaste - he can probably taste the cinnamon tea you’ve been sipping on over the past hour. As far as kisses go, it’s reserved, but perfect for this distinct moment.

Plus, you figure, this is just the first of many longer, more eager kisses - though you can’t imagine being more breathless than you already are right now.

But you can hardly get another taste of him before those warm hands on your cheeks are prying you away. He stares. You stare back. His eyes are brimming with something warm and full. You immediately choose to label it, “affection.”

And in a much lower voice, Kuroo murmurs, “Let’s save this for later.” 

You scan his face, wondering if he’s actually serious. He gradually makes his way off of the bed and onto his feet and before you can protest, Kuroo is speaking again.

“You-” 

He leans down and gingerly lifts your chin with his fingers. The gentleness of his touch almost makes you flinch, but you somehow manage to hold it in the road. Though now you’re really at a loss for words.

“-need to get some good rest.”

He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You still feel it after he pulls away. After he closes the door. After you’ve laid you head down on your pillow in shock.

How does he expect you to fall asleep after all of that?

---

extra: this is dedicated to Izzy - our sleep schedules may be jacked up, but i’m pretty sure it’s a blessing in disguise if we’re taking our time zones into consideration. thanks for making me laugh & for not stealing my quarter of the braincell.

and to my precious friends and followers - thank you for being patient with me. it’s hard to post or even write at the moment, but i’m steadily pushing myself toward a better mindset. i appreciate your comments, likes, and the fact that y'all even bother to check out my works in the first place. i’m working on it.

also happy birthday, Tetsu. you’re a real star.

[mego42]

Hi!! I love all of your fanfic! I am in the mood for some brio fluff and was wondering if you had any recommendations?

hi!!! tysm i bluSH!!! 💖💖💖 can absolutely hook you up with some fluffy recs! here are ten favs:

subjunctive by @foxmagpie

college AU!

look, i am obSESSED with this fic, it hits me right squarely in the mushy bits

the hooDiE

i’ve said too much

bonus rec: snapshots featuring delinquents!verse beth and rio on a date involving a photobooth so right out the gate you know it’s gonna be the cutest thing ever

Promptly Unfulfilled by @bethsuglywigs

lowkey cheating bc this is a prompt fill collection but both chapters are adorbs, the first one of the brio college au first date variety, the second of the sexy brio variety

spoilers i consider any instance where they’re not actively working against each other fluff so adjust your expectations i guess while going through this list

if you like it you could fuck around and check out the clementine

Child’s Pose by @pynkhues

honestly a struggle to pick one, was v torn between this and may the moon’s silvery beams and obvs the entire center and circumference verse even the angsty bits

rio surprises beth while she’s doing mom/daughter yoga! 

idk it’s short and sweet and got this really lovely kind of anything is possible, hopeful promise to it that makes me all mushy

Heart and Soul by @riosnecktattoo

look you can’t go wrong with anything in the only you show me what warmth is verse but this one is a particular fav

(i am also esp fond of nine-tenths)

idk i love them like, accidentally communicating Big Feelings to each other and then immediately being all JK I DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT even though they like, you know, live together so you’d assume there was some sort of emotional commitment involved on top of them being lying liars who lie

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre

another yoga fic! this time in rio pov!

i mean v technically this is more of a domestic fic involving a memorable couple’s yoga class

ugh this fic is so sweet

E!!!!!!!!

i’ve said too much again

count to twelve by @daydreamstew

i was actually going to rec delicate (gorgeous sleepy morning sex fic which apparently has a second chapter now i have been SLACKING) but when hunting for the list i ended up reading this and oH mY goD i LOVE IT

i think all fic should feature rio not being able to count tbh

PEACHES

hE gOT mAd bC it’S thEiR thiNg

i’ve said too much x3

green by @johnisntevendead

i have a soft spot for beth and rio getting high idk what to tell you

the lazy stoned vibeZ of this fic are *chef’s kiss*

also idek why but i’m really into the making out like some stupid teenagers it feels right for their level of arrested emotional development

it’s not mine / you just holding it for a friend makes me cackle every time

Filing her nails while they’re dragging the lake by @sothischickshe

PI AU!!!

incredibly appropriate, rio was born to be a private dick

hahahahaha i’ll show myself out

absolute best ever depiction of brio roleplay, all others can go home

I'm Just Going To The Store (To The Store) by @fairhairedkings

i don’t normally do pregnancy fic but this one’s really really cute

there’s this thing with rio buying a second phone charger that takes me tf out

idk why either but here we are

for a moment we were strangers by @milkshakemicrowave

p sure i’ve recced this one before in which case whoops my bad i was trying to diversify 

somehow manages to be domestic and take place right after 204 which is a neat trick

and also gives the whole fic a sort of wait wtf is happening vibe (or it may be that beth is kind of like wait wtf is happening????? the whole time)

look it’s stupid cute and i love it

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 16: Prinxiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Heeey, look at that, I’m behind! Day 16: When your soulmate listens to music, you hear it in your own head as well. 

Content warnings: assumed death of a soulmate (he’s not dead), depression, general sad vibes.

Word count: 2.6k

Note: the songs referenced in this fic are IDK You Yet by Alexander 23 and Love is Gone by SLANDER. Both of these songs make me cry and were the inspiration for this.

It was at midnight on December 19th when Roman’s soulmark first appeared. He didn’t realize this until 1am.

Granted, he didn’t know it was his soulmark for the first hour.

At first, the almost imperceptible steady beat in his head just seemed like a song that had gotten stuck in there. He didn’t remember ever hearing the song, but it wasn’t unlikely that he’d heard the tune at the store or on the radio and it unconsciously ingrained itself into his memory. He was working on an assignment that was due in the morning, a script analysis for one of his Theatre courses, and had begun to bop his head along to the music when his roommate walked in, eyes bleary and arms laden with books.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” He asked through a yawn, dropping the books on his desk and flopping into the bottom bunk. 

“I could ask you the same question, Pat,” Roman hummed, completing his conclusion paragraph with a dramatic flair of his hands. “Just finished my paper. Going now.”

“Lost track of time at the library,” Patton murmured in response, draping his arms over his eyes. 

Closing his computer, Roman popped his back and climbed up the small ladder into the top bunk, using his cellphone as a flashlight. He assumed Patton was already fast asleep (the man could fall asleep at the drop of a hat) and tried to follow suit, only to sit up in annoyance after several minutes.

Whatever song was stuck in his head was keeping him up. 

He remembered a tip he’d seen on the internet once, that said if you sing the last part of the song, it’s easier to get out of your head. Something about ‘your brain needing to complete it to be satisfied’ or whatever. As hard as he focused, though, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what song it was, much less the ending. 

The more he concentrated on it, the louder it seemed to get, until it was no longer a hum of bass in the back of his skull, and he could make out the lyrics, the guitar solos, everything. He definitely hadn’t heard this song before. It wasn’t the kind you’d hear playing in public; it was loud, swears thrown in every chorus, just generally the kind of thing you’d hear in a Hot Topic but nowhere else. 

And then it stopped.

For a split second he was pleased, thanking his brain for finally shutting off, and conceded to lie back down. He might be able to get six hours of sleep at this rate. Pretty good, for a college student. 

Except as soon as he closed his eyes, another song started. It was another one he didn’t know, one he would have no way of knowing each word to. The realization hit him hard and his eyes shot open, nearly falling off the ladder in his haste to climb down.

“Roman? Everything okay?” Patton drawled, clearly having been woken up by Roman’s enthusiasm. 

“My soulbond!”

“What?!” That got his attention and he jerked up, narrowly missing whacking his head on the top bunk.

“The music in my head all night, it’s my soulmate! It must be his birthday!”

He was pulling up music on his laptop before he’d even processed it, hands freezing over the keyboard as his brain grasped for something to play. What could he play that would properly introduce himself to his soulmate? A show tune? Something from the 80s? But his mind had gone completely blank, and he couldn’t think of a single one.

“What do I play, Pat?” He gasped, tapping the mousepad in time with the upbeat tempo in his head. 

Patton was suddenly leaning over his shoulder, clacking a name into the search bar before pressing enter. Roman narrowed his eyes 

“Why that one?”

Patton shrugged, “It’s kind of cheesy romantic, like you. And the first line is fitting.”

“A valid point,” Roman announced, closing his eyes to listen for a pause as the music switched. The second the song ended, he slammed the space bar, begging it to play before the next one started. 

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet.

A little more depressing than he initially would have chosen, but he could see Patton’s point. The music on the other end had been paused and he smiled in accomplishment, knowing that he must have heard. He let the song play to the end of the first chorus before pausing it, waiting with his roommate with baited breath.

The silence was almost unbearably long, Patton watching him intently for some kind of indication that the music was back.

Hello,

It’s me.

Adele’s soothing melody filled his mind and he absolutely wheezed with laughter. Patton grinned and let him explain through gasps for air, and he let out a giggle in response.

“Okay,” Roman snorted, “What next?”

Patton passed out probably an hour later after helping Roman pick out songs that would adequately encompass him as a person, but the theatre student didn’t sleep last night. Eventually him and his soulmate found a nice rhythm, each playing a song in turn. It didn’t take long for him to assume that his soulmate was emo (a fact that had him blushing furiously), simply due to the overwhelming amount of My Chemical Romance and Green Day played in his head, and he figured it was probably pretty obvious that he was a theatre kid. The second song he played was from Heathers, afterall. 

When his eyes finally started drooping too much to ignore, he knew he had to end this soon. The soulmate’s song ended and he quickly pulled up the first thing he’d thought of, a children’s lullaby, trying to indicate that he had to sleep.

There was quiet on the other end when the song ended, before the beginning trills of Baby Shark started playing and he groaned, quickly muffling the sound with his hand so as to not wake his roommate. He didn’t let it play past one verse, thank Olympus, and then his mind was quiet for the first time in many hours. It seemed like a mutual agreement that ‘now is sleep time’, and Roman went to sleep with a smile on his face.

Their new norm was quickly established in the following weeks. It became obvious almost right away that playing their music at the same time was cacophonous and only caused headaches, so they eventually settled on switching days. Every second morning, Roman would wake up to his alarm and quickly start his morning playlist, a set of rousing, uplifting, exciting songs to get his blood flowing for the day. It was his day to choose the music, so he’d set his walking playlist for class and his study one for the evenings, sometimes playing an adventure podcast or something to spice things up. The other days, he’d be woken by the soft notes of melancholy tunes, starting the day slowly. As the morning progressed, usually by the time he was eating breakfast, the tone would change to something a little more fast paced, as if his soulmate needed to warm up before getting to the main act. As much as the music wasn’t his style, he found himself keeping pace to the beat with his steps, bopping his head along to the melody, humming a harmony to the more commonly played ones. Just knowing that this was his soulmate made it better. 

And then, one day… the music stopped. 

He’d woken up around noon, not a big deal since he didn’t have classes until after lunch anyways, but he knew for a fact that his soulmate was always up by 10, latest. Whether the other had classes or a job that kept his schedule, he didn’t know. It was an oddity for sure that there was no alarm. 

He put it off to the other probably having a sick day, or a free schedule, and he was sleeping in for once. The worry only started creeping in near the evening, when usually at this time, the music would start slowing down again as the sun set. There hadn’t been a peep all day, which was very unlike either of them. Even though the silence bothered him, he wouldn’t dare intrude on the other’s day, so he studied and ate dinner in silence, tapping his pencil against the table. Of course, he put it off to a one day fluke. 

Except, two days after, when it should have been his soulmate’s turn again, there was no music. And the time after that. And the one after that. It was almost two weeks of radio silence on the other end before he called Patton through broken sobs, pleading for him to stop studying and come back to the dorm. Obviously, he made the ten minute walk in five. 

And then Roman admitted the way his anxieties had been spiralling.

“What if- What if our soulbond broke? Did the universe realize we were a mistake? Or… or what if he died?! What if he’s hurt or dying or alone and I’m just-”

Patton shushed him gently, rubbing his back as Roman hiccuped into his shoulder. “When did this start?”

“Two- two weeks ago.”

“Then isn’t it possible that he just isn’t listening to music for a little while? Maybe he’s… somewhere without wifi. Or his phone broke.”

Even though he very much didn’t believe a word Patton was saying, he nodded along messily, clutching Patton’s shirt tighter. He eventually agreed to give him more time, hold on just a little longer, before completely giving up.

It took about a month before he did, and it didn’t get better from there. 

Their consistency had been their norm for almost nine months, over summer break and now into the new school year, and now it was torn away without warning. Roman refused to listen to music on days that weren’t his, even though Patton tried to tell him it was okay, but he wouldn’t. It didn’t feel right. He mourned his soulmate the same way he would mourn a close friend’s death, for he truly believed he was gone for good. The person he’d barely gotten to understand, much less meet, and he was just… gone. He was going to live the rest of his life without a soulmate.

Most nights he just did the bare basics of the homework he had to do, without any of the old flair he’d put into all his work, and curled onto his bed to watch a show or, on his days, listen to music. His old playlists had shifted to the bottom of his rotation, now only bringing sadder memories that Patton had insisted he not indulge in at this point, so it was usually just automated lists he found. Nothing was special about them anymore. 

Today was his day, an uneventful Saturday where the most exciting occurrence was Patton convincing him to come to the cafeteria and eat with other people. It had been tiring and only made him feel more alone, so his daily scheduled moping times had come up a little earlier. Patton had given him a hug and a gentle kiss on the head, telling him he had to go meet some people for a group project, and to call if he needed anything, before grabbing his bag and leaving. Roman didn’t miss the sad look tossed his way before the door shut.

Despite Patton’s advice, he was feeling particularly shitty today, and his fingers, seemingly with a mind of their own, pulled up one of his older playlists. One of the ones that was reminiscent of days when he actually had a soulmate. He clicked shuffle and tossed the phone onto the pillow next to his head, curling that much deeper into his blankets, as if he could somehow refill the void that had been cut out of him. 

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet.

The first song he’d ever played had become a sort of inside joke between them. Despite the song’s sad melody and somber lyrics, it was a reminder of the first time they’d interacted; an awkward, laughter filled night. At least, it had been on Roman’s night, and he could only hope it had been the same on the other end. 

He didn’t even realize he was crying until the pillow beneath him was tear stained and gross to lay on. Why had the universe chosen him as the target for its cruel irony? Not that he wished this on anyone else… but why couldn’t soulmates be foolproof? Why was there that margin for error, the always-there possibility that everything you’ve ever dreamed of will be ripped out of your hands just as soon as you think you have it? So close, but so far. At least before they’d connected, he’d lived in blissful hope and ignorance. 

The song ended and he pressed pause lethargically, not able to find the emotional strength to listen to more. Maybe Patton had been right. A glance out the window showed that it was well past nightfall, the full moon gleaming into his window, and he decided to just sleep the emptiness away. It hadn’t worked so far, but maybe tonight was the night. He turned off his phone screen and plugged it in to charge, rolling away to face the wall, and waited for the soothing peace of sleep to take over him.

At first, he thought it was just a hallucination, wishful thinking. More than once in the three months since his soulmate disappeared, he’d thought he’d heard music, only for the feeling to disappear as soon as he focused on it. A soulbond only became louder when concentrated on, so he eventually realized he was doing it to himself subconsciously, his mind struggling to fill the emptiness that had once been filled by the other’s music. 

When it disappeared, he figured it was music from someone else’s dorm filtering through the thin walls. But no, this was too clear, too distinct, too ingrained, to be coming from an external source.

He calmed his racing heart before he could jump to conclusions. This music isn’t like what his used to be. It must be your brain, because he’s gone. He’s GONE, Roman.

Much as he tried to push it down, he couldn’t. It was becoming evident that no, something was happening, and it had to do with his soulmate. As he had done for the time he’d known (could it be considered ‘knowing’) the other, he concentrated on the lyrics, because those were the only feeble ways they’d interacted in those times. 

I’m sorry,

Don’t leave me,

I want you here with me, 

I know that your love is gone.

I can’t breathe,

I’m so weak, 

I know this isn’t easy,

Don’t tell me that your love is gone,

That your love is gone.

Patton walked in after his group meeting to see Roman sobbing in his bed and, immediately assuming the worst, he jumped onto the bed and pulled him into his arms. Through gasps for breath, Roman was able to choke out that, “He’s back. He’s playing music. He’s back. He’s back.”

Part 2 HERE

[zukkaoru]

shhh i’m not on my phone at work got a second wHAT

35:) ramble to me, babe

35. ramble about any fic-related thing you want

corey this is so vague i don't even know where to begin skjgdfhdj uhhhhh what do i want to ramble about,,

WAIT OKAY I GOT IT

okay so back in like. february i think i did another ask game like this and someone (jo?? maybe???) sent an ask about meta/foreshadowing/hidden references for this ultraviolet morning light and at the time, only the first two(?) chapters were out so i couldn't talk about the foreshadowing, bc it was all leading up to the end of chapter six. but i can talk about it now bc the whole fic is up!!

i'll put it under the cut bc i know it'll be long + spoilers for those who haven't yet read tuvml

fic writer ask game

okay so first. all of the foreshadowing for the drowning scene. maybe i did already have a list of these in my google docs in case anyone every asked, maybe not, i won't say

anyway. i added in water/drowning imagery with zuko specifically in this fic, because of the drowning scene, and especially bc in the atla world, water imagery would generally be used with characters from the water tribes rather than someone from the fire nation. so it wasn't just me liking water-related words and shoving them onto zuko for no reason; it was intentional

chapter one:

- He really can’t think of anything more beautiful than Zuko drenched in moonlight - This is what fire feels like when doused with water. - It burns like fire consuming Sokka’s entire body, like he’s been dunked underwater and the surface has frozen over and his lungs are about to give out, but he’s going to keep hitting the ice anyways like he’s strong enough to break it.

chapter two:

- It washes over his body all at once, like a wave pulling him under the surface of the ocean, until his limbs are numb and tingly and his head sways. He’s completely frozen in place, eyes staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything. - He would’ve rather stood across from Azula in the Agni Kai arena and let her shoot him full of lightning, rather been dropped in the middle of the ocean

chapter three:

- Zuko searches the tumultuous ocean that is his mind for the right words - Zuko was telling them about Azula never quite getting the knack for swimming despite their annual vacations to Ember Island when they were little, and Sokka was so happy.

chapter four:

So he lets the words sink, lets them drown in the knowledge that he no longer has the right to talk to Sokka in the same way he used to.

chapter five:

The moonlight pours over him, drowning him in a soft white glow.

chapter six:

But…my doctors have told me that spending the rest of your life letting yourself drown in guilt isn’t going to help anyone.

also, people picked up on vai being a double agent, but no one picked up on the fact that she was a waterbender, even though i did hint at that too:

- Her brown skin is almost as dark as Sokka’s and her face and arms are covered in freckles. - It reminds Sokka of himself a little; the bright blue eyes of a waterbender but no bending ability to speak of. - How can you get better than a play with dragons, a star-crossed love affair, sun and moon symbolism, and a villain who has a secret past that ties them to the protagonist?

beyond that, there are also a lot of parallels/call backs to previous chapters/foreshadowing to future scenes just in general. the funniest one (and also completely unintentional one) is probably sokka and katara calling each other their least favorite [sibling]

“You’re my least favorite sister,” // You are, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, my least favorite brother ever. chapter 1 // epilogue

but there are. several more. and i'm not sure how many of them people picked up on so i will add them all bc i love them <3

Zuko would get himself arrested, kidnapped, killed, whatever if it would keep Sokka safe. // “I would give my life for [Zuko] without a second thought.” … “But would he do the same for you?” chapter 4 // chapter 6

When Sokka’s hand began to retreat, Zuko had reached forward, grabbed it, and whispered, “Please stay.” // “Don’t leave me.” Sokka says it like a prayer … like he would repeat it until he couldn’t remember anything else if it meant Zuko would keep holding him. “Just… stay.” chapter 5 // chapter 7

So they sit - Sokka and Zuko - on the roof of some abandoned building in the outskirts of the city. // “But now I’m pretty sure we’re just destined to be Sokka and Zuko” chapter 5 // chapter 7

“I just don’t think he’s trustworthy enough for this. … when he proves that he isn’t as reliable as you think - when he proves that he’s only ever going to let you down - I’m going to say I told you so.” // “Zuko is kind, and he is trustworthy and reliable. He’d never purposefully let me down” chapter 3 // chapter 6

this ^ was one i was hoping people would pick up on bc it makes the drowning scene/sokka pleading for vai to not hurt zuko that much angstier, but i'm not sure anyone did so now i'm putting those lines right next to each other so you're all forced to confront the pain <3

Is he still in love with Zuko? Is being in love enough? // But what good is any of that? Love isn’t always enough. // “It doesn’t matter who or where feels like home, it doesn’t matter if we’re in love. When you’re next in line for the throne, love isn’t enough.” chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 6

Zuko warms his other hand on instinct, and apparently it was a good call because Sokka squeezes it tighter and presses closer to Zuko. “I forgot my mittens at home,” // I love you doesn’t always take the shape of those three words. … Sometimes, it’s Have you eaten today? or Don’t forget your mittens again! chapter 1 // chapter 6

this ^ is also one i thought people might pick up on but idk if anyone did or not. but it made me🥺🥺 when i wrote it

[religion tw for the last part]

okay i could leave it there but corey gave me an excuse to ramble and i've made the post this long anyways so one more thing! i explained this to corey a while ago when we were having dinner together but i find it very funny so i'm sharing it with all of you i say like anyone has actually read this far

i accidentally made zuko a Christ Figure in tuvml

"but grace, surely that's not possible," you say. "surely there's no way zuko is a christ figure! there aren't any christian themes in tuvml. you didn't even have anyone try to convince vai to forgive zuko or have anyone convince zuko and sokka that they should forgive vai! how could you have a christ figure in your fic???"

let me set the scene. it's 2019, you're a senior in high school, and you decided to take ap literature for the possibility of college credit. your teacher has this book called how to read literature like a professor that he has his classes read chapters from, and one of those chapters talks about Christ Figures in literature. one of those chapters also talks about baptism symbolism, and mentions how oftentimes, characters who are christ figures will go through a baptism of some sort - being "born again" after a scene where they come out of the water

do you want to know what zuko does in this ultraviolet morning light?

he goes into the water. and then he comes back out.

and do you want to know what i had sokka say about zuko shortly before he took a dive into the baptistry water?

Zuko looks away from him, resigned, like he’s ready to die as atonement.

see. i grew up Christian, i went to church every sunday and i have spent the majority of my life memorizing Bible verses either for awana or bible quizzing and. sometimes i just drop biblical words into my writing sometimes bc they're words i've heard since i was a kid, and they're words i learned make you sound smarter at church. so of course i throw them around while writing. i use them in essays, i use them in poetry, and i use them in fan fiction.

so was i trying to make zuko a christ figure in my fic? absolutely not.

but i had sokka say he looked ready to die as atonement (for the sins of his people), and then i had him go into the water, nearly die, and have to be "brought back to life" by suki's cpr, being "born again" after a "baptism" and

well

accidental christ figure zuko i guess

anyway. this went on for a while and i'm not sure anyone bothered reading all of it which. valid.

thank you corey for letting me ramble skjdgfdjgh i'm not sure this is coherent, nor should it have all been in one post, but whatever

[introverted-explorer]

Will You Marry Me (For Financial Aid)

Summary:

The fake dating/real feelings college au no one asked for. Based on that text exchange between two friends in college wanting a better FAFSA Application.

Notes: Major credit to  @labelma (AKA Leilah) for betaing this and for encouraging me to post it.

I wrote this about a year ago and got distracted by life. Decided I would put it out into the world for other people to enjoy as a little birthday present for myself, enjoy!

David - italicized Patrick - bold Stevie - both 

You wouldn’t expect David Rose to be friends with someone like Patrick Brewer. Not only was he a business major, but also a huge sports fan and equally versed in the arts, which David certainly didn’t mind. Patrick was liked by everyone he met and no one really understood how he could be friends with someone as abrasive and standoffish as David. And somehow they were best friends. 

Stevie simultaneously regrets, is overly enthused, and is extremely amused by their friendship and takes full credit for the dynamic of their tiny but mighty friend group. She and David had met during orientation their freshman year of college, bonding over their shared disdain for their overly peppy orientation leaders. They quickly became inseparable, spending the majority of their down time together. A few weeks into school Stevie showed up with this average looking guy she had met in her Intro to Business course to their weekly dinner. Patrick had woven his way into their little duo with a few little teasing jabs at David to which David made complaints of an ‘unbalanced social dynamic’ but loved nonetheless.  

Nothing has really changed after two years of friendship. They would do pretty much everything together; homework, meals, vacations (thanks to David’s parents), you name it, they were probably doing it together. Even a few classes, obviously with a lot of pushing on Stevie and Patrick’s end and reluctance on David’s. David mostly stuck to his art classes but was convinced that a few business classes would help if he ever wanted to manage a gallery, good business acumen ran in the family after all. 

David came from money, but that money was almost never of conversation and often forgotten all together. It only came up when he casually name dropped or mentioned his designer and high end products. That was until they lost it all. Thankfully school and his apartment were already paid for through the year but it left David questioning his very near future plans. He worried if he would be able to finish out his schooling and where he would live once school was over. By some small miracle, his parents and younger sister found themselves moved to a town that they had bought as a joke at the pinnacle of his family’s financial success. Even better was the fact they were now living in the motel that Stevie’s family owned. 

After a long night of anxiety and research on financial aid for the next year, he discovered there were certain situations in which he could receive more aid. David never had to worry about filling out a FAFSA application when he still had money, it was never an issue if he received aid or not, but now it was the most important thing for his life to stay somewhat stable. His anxiety got the better of him and decided to decompress with the little bit of the weed he had left. 

Once he got a nice buzz going, he grabbed his phone to come up with a plan to get some of that aid. His finger hovered over his conversations with Patrick and Stevie. He thought Stevie would go along with his plan but would ridicule him to no end and decided that Patrick was probably the safer bet in this particular scenario. 

Hi

Can you marry me? 

The rational part of his brain told him Patrick was likely at one of his many clubs or doing homework or maybe even doing something only good people do. But the rational part of his brain was not steering the ship. The part in control kept yelling at him that Patrick was mad at him for coming on like that and he had ruined the friendship with just four words. 

I just looked at the financial aid website and it said I cannot get any aid except for unsubsidized loans unless I have a child, get married or turn 24, so I have to get married 

It didn’t take long for Patrick to respond. He would do pretty much anything for his friends and it’s not like it was actually a real marriage and could benefit himself. 

                       Yeah, okay. I’ll marry you. I need a better fafsa application too

That certainly wasn’t the response David had expected and certainly not that fast. David was used to people letting him down even though Patrick, and more often than not Stevie, had proven that people won’t always do that. 

Wait. Seriously?

Would you really do it?

I’m going to do actual research on this.

‘After I sober’ up David said to his phone after he sent that final text. 

Are we doing this?

It would have to happen like lightning fast. I’ve never had to do one of those applications aren’t they due soon?

Patrick knew David was likely either high or drunk, he hadn’t been dealing with the complete upheaval of his life all that well, and figured he would do all of the specific research as he enjoyed it and was painfully aware of the application and financial aid process. He felt the tiniest bit of disbelief pass through his brain as he started looking into this particular part of the process. Whether this was the idea of marrying David or marrying David to benefit their financial aid packages. He never really thought of his best friend like that before but it felt like a tiny part of his brain was saying this was a good thing. He shut that voice down and focused on his research instead. 

                                                                                                                  Okay.

 We’d need to get a marriage license which can be up to $300 depending on where we get it, and then we need to file for a marriage certificate. 

I’m an ordained  minister but idk if I could file my own marriage certificate

During all of the craziness that had been the last hour and asking Patrick to marry him, he totally forgot that Stevie was coming over. 

“David?” she called out opening the door and approached his bedroom.

“You smoked without me? You suck.”

David stilled. He had his phone still in his hand and a small smile on his face. As soon as he saw Stevie in the doorway his smile twisted to the side of his face. 

“David.”

“Stevie.”

“You never smile like that. What bit of celebrity gossip are you hiding on your phone?” She asked, grabbing the phone from his hands with little protest as David’s reaction time was slowed by his now depleting high. 

“What is this?” She paused to read the conversation. “You’re marrying Patrick? And for financial aid? I don’t know if I should be offended you didn’t ask me or not.”

“I thought about it! I thought you would make fun of me for it. I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine. I’m ordained by the way.”

David gave her a confused look questioning her random fact.

“I was bored in high school one day and did it online after I finished the assignment we were doing. It took like 15 minutes and now I can marry people.” She shrugged it off as if it were nothing. 

“And you’re telling me this because..” David trailed off trying to follow the conversation. 

“Because I can marry you and Patrick if you need me to.”

Finally David was caught up on the conversation. He took his phone back from Stevie wanting to tell Patrick. He couldn’t help the smile that came back on his face as hard as he tried to hide it. 

Stevie’s ordained and said she can marry us. So one problem down!

“I like this for you.” 

“Like what? There’s nothing to like!” David shrieked. 

David went back to his laptop to do further research into the actual benefits of marrying Patrick. Stevie nodded and pulled out her own phone. She figured if David was going to be preoccupied she could at least have some fun. 

So I hear you’re going to marry David?

                                                                                         And you’re officiating?

You’re not mad he asked me and not you right? I don't want this to put a strain on our friendship. 

Stevie laughed. She had secretly hoped they would end up together. She loved David but she couldn’t ever marry him, not even a staged marriage. 

I may have offered my services, yes. 

And absolutely not. He’s all yours.

The extra financial aid would have been nice but I could never marry David.

                                                                                                         Fake marry.

Okay, fine. Fake marry. Either way I am NOT interested. 

She looked back up to see David’s face now buried in his phone. He had to be texting Patrick.

It’s possible that I can get fafsa to pay for an entire apartment!

Where you would live with me obviously

David stopped and looked up at Stevie nervously. 

“I think I just asked Patrick to move in with me.”

I mean only if you want. You have no obligations to do that. 

You probably don’t. I mean bringing home a girl would be weird or whatever. 

Patrick had left his phone playing music on the counter as he made himself dinner. He didn’t think to check it until he was back in front of his computer with his dinner. He opened his messages to see four new messages from David. 

He can’t say he’s not surprised to see David spiraling after those first two messages. He still never understood why David thought Patrick would reject him as he had never shown signs of that during their friendship. He felt a certain sadness for his best friend. 

                                                                                 Of course I’d live with you. 

The thought of living with David didn’t scare him as much as it should. He knows David is high maintenance. He’s shared spaces with him during vacations. It’s not really something that bothers him. If anything he finds David endearing, especially when he’s a little frazzled making this encounter all the more fun. 

                      Think they would go for a nice little two bedroom apartment?

The relief David feels seeing that first response doesn’t last long. He doesn’t know why he feels a sense of sadness when Patrick mentions a two bedroom. They’re friends. A couple of bros getting married. Just for financial aid purposes. 

Do you think we could convince them for two baths? I’ve shared a bathroom with you. You don’t have much but what you do is wildly incorrect and I’d rather not ruin our friendship with that. 

Marriage is a compromise David. You’ll just have to deal with my incorrect bathroom products. 

We’re really doing this. 

                                                                                                            Yes we are. 

        Can we talk more about this tomorrow? I need to get some work done tonight. 

We can talk about this whenever you want.

Just

Preferably not before 10 AM. 

             Never. I know you David. Lunch after my class tomorrow? Just us?

Stevie hates that we’re ditching her. 

But, yes. Lunch sounds great. 

“So you’re marrying Patrick and ditching me to go on dates with him?” Stevie remarked after reading their exchange. 

David seemed shocked but hummed shaking his head in some sort of hybrid of no and yes. He stood up and shook his arms out. Stevie knew he was getting flustered proving that this might just be more than just an easy way to get some help with tuition. 

[hermionegranger56]

a v late recap of evermore

so i think Taylor Swift sensed that i was Going Through It and was like here you sad bitch, here’s another surprise album to help fix all that. cause good lord evermore is just what i (and i think we all) needed. i truly TRULY can’t believe we’re lucky enough to get a sister album to folklore, i love it so much. the first day it was out i drove myself 2 hours to the very end of the Cape and sat on an empty beach and cried to it and honestly??? magical. here are my thoughts on it that no one asked for:

first, as an overall here, this album complements folklore so well. it’s the spring to folklore’s autumn, it’s self-assured and warm and beautiful. each album shows off her lyrical genius so well and she only grows stronger here. when folklore came out, i was floored because the music was so different for her and so up my alley. each song’s production sucked me in and it was like she was confidently telling us “here is another genre i can work with” (masterfully at that). evermore feels different. it feels like Taylor is so comfortable in this creative space, she isn’t trying to fit into any new molds or expectations, she is just HERE, now, saying “this is who i am and this is my craft”. it’s really been a privilege to watch her grow as an artist. ok. here we go

willow:

god the video was so beautiful, a really good continuation of cardigan. the chorus is so so delicate and prettyyy, thats MY MAN ughhh its so good. it reminds me a lot of invisible string tbh, or if betty from cardigan grew up and found love. this is really one of my favorites, she starts so strong

fave lines: “the more that you say, the less i know/ wherever you stray I follow/ i’m begging for you to take my hand/ wreck my plans, that’s my man”; “life was a willow and it bent right to your wind”

champagne problems:

oh dear god, it’s if all too well and new years day had a baby and it is a MASTERPIECE. i can picture it all, college sweethearts, broken hearts, i feel like its new england at christmas, ivy league old money…its cinematic. and it gets at the feeling like you’ll never be good enough so you leave before that happens (basically before you get to the tolerate it stage??) and OOF. AND GODDAMN THE RANTING BRIDGE (illicit affairs came close on folklore but i think THIS might be the best bridge since All Too Well). I’ve screamed it a lot tbh

fave lines: BRIDGE BABYYYYYY EVERY SINGLE PERFECT WORD. WHAT A SHAME SHES FUCKED IN THE HEADDDD

gold rush:

this one is bright and lovely and catchy!! it reminds me a lot of mirrorball tbh, all like swirly and magical. i can’t even put it into words but i can see this one so clearly. its all rosy and golden

fave lines: “eyes like sinking ships on waters/ so inviting, i almost jump in”; “what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?/with your hair falling into place like dominoes/ I see me padding across your wooden floors/ with my Eagles t-shirt hanging from your door”; “the coastal town we wandered round/ had never seen a love as pure as it”; “my mind turns your life into folklore”

’tis the damn season:

UGH I FUCKING LOVE THIS ONE EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES ME WANNA TEXT MY EX. the melody is SOOOO satisfying, the progression to “write this down”, i’m obsessed. the idea of being home for the holidays and feeling a little lost and tired and nostalgic for what could have been is something superrrr relatable. this song reminds me of snowy drives around my hometown in the best/worst possible way hahah. one of my top 5 for sure.

fave lines: “we could call it even/ you could call me babe for the weekend/ tis the damn season, write this down/i’m staying at my parents house/ and the road not taken looks real good now”; “and wonder about the only soul/ who can tell which smiles i’m faking”

tolerate it:

oh honeyyyyy this track 5 packs a punch, i mean the lyrics are absolutely BRUTAL in the best way. it’s just so sad, and encompasses a lot of my own insecurity about always feeling like you’re more invested in a relationship and watching someone fall out of love or just stop caring. i LOVE the “my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it”, like bitch YES your love should be celebrated. also taylor sounds angelic on the “I” at the start of the chorus

fave lines: “i know my love should be celebrated/ but you tolerate it”; “i made you my temple, my mural, my sky/ now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life”; “what would you do if I/break free and leave us in ruins/ took this dagger in me and removed it”

.

no body, no crime:

YESSSSSSSSS I LOVE THE SUBGENRE OF COUNTRY ABOUT WOMEN KILLING SHITTY HUSBANDS AND THIS SONG IS SO FUCKING GOOD AHHHHH!! I LOVE the beat, i love country taylor, i love the addition of HAIM. UGH ITS SO CATCHYYYY, like i’m obsessed with the slide from “i think he did it but i just. can’t. prove itttttt NOOO no body no crime” UGHHH this is without a doubt in my top five

fave lines: “she thinks i did it but she just can’t prove it”

happiness:

I heard this one described as an emotional marathon and holy shit it is, each line is a sucker punch. i really like how it feels like a conversation and looks at the acceptance and pain that mingle together when a relationship just…ends. her lyrics are unmatched on this album but this is a particularly strong track

fave lines: “i haven’t met the new me yet”; “when did all our lessons start to look like weapons/ pointed at my deepest hurt”; “there is a glorious sunrise/ dappled with the flickers of light/ from the dress i wore at midnight”

dorothea:

this one feels like Betty 2.0 and its so sweet and bright and also kinda sad. it’s wistful!! that’s the word i want, wistful! the vibe is gives off reminds me of Red, like musically. it’s home-y. idk if that makes sense but i like it a lot

fave lines: and if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know/ you know, you’ll always know me”

coney island:

ugh this one is magical, i honestly really love the instrumental to this one, it’s so soothing. the lyrics to me feel like you’re in some dream state, going through every heartbreak you’ve ever been through. I love the addition of The National, the vocals fit together so well (and I like it better than both Bon Iver features i think??)

fave lines: do you miss the rogue/ who coaxed you into paradise and left you there/ will you forgive my soul/ who you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

ivy:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (that’s how i feel about this absolute masterpiece oh my GOD) it makes me so incandescently happy, the folk feel, the lyrics that are so cinematic and poetic and paint such a clear picture (to me) of two Victorian lovers who are in unhappy marriages but don’t let that stop their love. the chorus just like….fills my whole chest, the OH GODDAMN hits so different. and i want “my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand” tattooed on me, that is one of her BEST lines and i will die on that hill. its all so pretty, i can’t deal. the vibe also strongly reminds me of a) invisible string and b) Little Women (2019). i think taylor should do folk and uhhhh only folk please

fave lines: EVERY WORD BUT ESPECIALLY: “i’d meet you where the spirit meets the bone/ in a faith forgotten land”; “oh goddamn/ my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand/ taking mine, but its been promised to another/ oh, i can’t/ stop you putting roots in my dreamland/ my house of stone, your ivy grows/ and now I’m covered in you”; “he wants what’s only yours”; “clover blooms in the field/ springs breaks loose, time is near“; ”so yeah, it’s a fire/ its a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it”

cowboy like me:

ALL RIGHT everyone sleeps on this song but oh my GOD its so good!! it’s smooth and dreamy and gives me that old fashioned, bonnie and clyde type love story and some of the lyrics are so poetic. I really love the addition of the Tim McGraw chords too???? BUT DEAR GOD COULD WE HAVE GIVEN MARCUS MUMFORD MORE OF A ROLE HERE??!! HE SOUNDS WONDERFUL, GIVE HIM A FEATURE, GIVE HIM A WHOLE VERSE. THIS IS A FOLK ALBUM TAYLOR, USE FUCKING MUMFORD AHHHH (i fucking love him omg)

fave lines: “dancin’ is a dangerous game”; “you’re a bandit like me/ eyes full of stars”; “now you hang from my lips/ like the Gardens of Babylon/ with your boots beneath my bed/ forever is the sweetest con”

long story short:

A BOP!! GIVE ME SOME HAPPINESS TAYLOR WOO! I really love how catchy this one is. it feels like her introducing the craziness of her life to joe and being like look all of that was tough but here i am now and I couldn’t be happier. It’s refreshing, self-deprecating and endearing. I couldn’t love it more and it is ALWAYS stuck in my head!

fave lines: “and he’s passing by/ rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky”; “long story short I survived”

marjorie:

ha hahah hah ha this one ENDS me, like dear LORD i need to call my grandma immediately. it is so so GOOD and SAD, like the you don’t know how good something or someone is until they’re gone, but even then, they’re still there with you. I love the grandma wisdom of “never be so clever you forget to be kind” etc. and holy SHIT the addition of Taylor’s grandmother’s opera singing as background vocals is GENIUS AND DEVASTATING, god the part where she goes “i’d think you were singing with me now” and then Marjorie comes in is honestly one of the most beautiful musical moments i’ve heard in a hot minute and it breaks me every time. wow.

fave lines: “never be so polite/ you forget your power/ never wield such power/ you forget to be polite”; “the autumn chill that wakes me up/ you loved the amber sky so much”; “and if i didn’t know better/ i’d think you were singing to me now”

closure:

ok i’m sorry, this is my only skip here. I really do love the lyrics and the idea of, yeah no you don’t deserve closure from me. i just can’t get past the pots and pans beginning, its too chaotic. but i’m sure it’ll grow on me! it does feel like finally moving on and i do love that about it

fave lines: “don’t treat me like/ some situation that needs to be handled”; “i know i’m just a/ wrinkle in your new life/ staying friends would/ iron it out so nice”

evermore:

god her voice is SO soothing in this one, it’s literally hypnotic. the song itself feels wandering and dark at first, like you’re stuck in this depression, and then bon iver comes in and it picks up and it feels like coming out of the trees, into the sunlight and finding your way again. finding that the pain WOULDNT be for evermore like she says. it feels like an ending and a beginning. beautiful

fave lines: “writing letters/ addressed to the fire”; “and when i was shipwrecked/ i thought of you/ in the cracks of light/ i dreamed of you”; “and i was catching my breath/ floors of the cabin creaking under my step/ and i couldn’t be sure/ i had a feeling so peculiar/ this pain wouldn’t be for evermore”

[everybodyscupoftea]

song fic idea!!! grow as we go by ben platt?? w rafe 🥺💜 i fuckin love ur writing dude makes me feel all warm inside n shit

oh first of all, thank you so much, that means a lot :)

secondly, i fucking love ben platt and that song makes me so soft and i kinda am gonna do this but also if you think about it, possible wedding song for the ‘you are the music in me’ verse? idk, let me know what you think

Rafe first suggested Grow as We Go as the song for your first dance, and you were immediately on board. It was so soft and encompassed, you felt, how the two of you had changed together over the course of your relationship. You also liked the amount of emotion Rafe’s eyes held when he listened to it, practically overflowing with love.

Sitting on the floor together, leaning back against your bed, legs out in front of you, you couldn’t help but think back over the years as the lyrics washed over the two of you. Rafe reached down and grabbed your hand with a soft hum, bringing it up to press a soft kiss to the back of it.

You say there’s so much you don’t know / you need to go and find yourself / you say you’d rather be alone / ‘cause you think you won’t find it tied to someone else

Right after graduation, the two of you got job offers. The only problem? In two different states. Rafe went west and you went north, fully intending on making it work. And it did, sort of. He didn’t struggle at all fitting in and making new friends, you were always a little more reserved and no one at your new job was making it easy.

Every time the two of you FaceTimed, Rafe was so open, talking about dinner parties and golfing and how much he loved his new job and his new boss. Meanwhile, you felt you were barely staying afloat. You weren’t sure if he could tell (he could) but you didn’t want to bring him down with your personal shit, so you internalized it.

When he’d ask about your friends, you’d sweep it under the rug, “They’re great, we’re getting dinner tomorrow.” Which was never true. And Rafe was starting to get frustrated, you could tell.

It all came to head one night when you zoned out mid-talk of a fishing trip. Rafe cleared his throat, effectively catching your attention, and you raised your eyebrows at him in confusion. He looked a little annoyed and a little amused, “Thinking about something over there, bud?”

“Hmm, just tired I guess.”

“How are things going for you?” he asked, “don’t want to hog all the conversation.”

“It’s good, I like listening to you talk.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Why won’t you just tell me the truth?”

Your thoughts flew to the last phone call you’d had with your mom. She was the only one who had any idea of what you were going through, and her advice was to end it with Rafe.

“Baby, you’re holding on to this boy and he’s changing, you need to change too. You aren’t in college anymore, this isn’t just going to end in four years, this is your future.”

“Rafe is my future,” you told her stubbornly, refusing to accept her advice.

“Is he?”

Her words struck you and echoed as Rafe looked at you, frustrated, waiting on you to come up with something.

“Should we break up?” you mumbled, playing with the carpet, refusing to look at your laptop screen.

It was silent for a few seconds before he whispered, “What?” in such a broken voice that you had to look up. His eyes were watering a little and his fingers were tapping on his jaw, something he only did when he was really anxious.

“Cameron, I’m just dragging you down here. You’re flourishing, you deserve to have a good, new life. I have some shit to figure out before I get to be where you are.”

Oh, who said it’s true / that the growing only happens on your own / they don’t know me and you

“Why can’t I help you figure it out?” he asked, reaching forward at the screen, as if to touch you.

“You’re not here,” you told him, looking back down at your hands.

Rafe didn’t have anything to say to that, you were right, but he wasn’t going to give it up. After a few minutes of silence, you were about to just end the call and the relationship, but Rafe had one last card to play.

Music started to softly play through your laptop speakers as he held his phone up. The song made your chest ache you missed him and his songs so fucking much. Before you could stop it, your eyes welled up with tears, running down your cheeks almost immediately.

“Sweetheart,” he started, speaking over the music, “I may not be there in person, but I’m always there for you.”

You won’t be the only one / I am unfinished, I’ve got so much left to learn / I don’t know how this river runs / but I’d like company through every twist and turn

Rafe had a weird relationship with his siblings, especially Sarah. There was a weird competitive dynamic that came from her being the blatant favorite all his life. The two of you had talked through it, for the most part, and Rafe was content to have an estranged friendship with her forever.

And then one evening, she showed up at the two of you’s apartment door, holding two suitcases with tear stains on her cheeks. Rafe had gone to answer the door because you were making dinner and you heard him say, “What are you doing here?” in the most passive aggressive tone he’d used in a while.

Wiping your hands off, you walked to the door to see who was standing there, just in time to hear her tell him, “Dad tried to set up some arranged marriage bullshit and I told him no, so he threw me out of the company.”

Rafe’s mouth was hanging wide open. You weren’t entirely sure how she’d gotten here, neither of you had ever shared with her or his parents where you were living. Rafe came to the conclusion at the same time you did and he sighed, “Wheezie.”

“Don’t be mad at her, I just didn’t know where to go.”

“Not fucking here,” Rafe told her, preparing to slam the door.

You stepped forward before he could, pressing on his chest to push him backwards, away from the door, “Let’s go to our room and talk about this, yeah?” Before tossing over your shoulder at Sarah, “Come on in, we have a guest bedroom over to the left.”

Rafe was tense, pacing, when you finally made it to your room and shut the door. You sat down on the bed and watched him for a few seconds before finally speaking up, “Talk to me, Cameron.”

“I thought,” he paused, “I thought we could have this distant relationship where we could be friendly but not friends. She’s infringing here, I don’t like it.”

You patted the spot next to you for him to sit, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders when he did, “Well, sometimes shit happens.”

Rafe huffed out a laugh and rested his head on top of yours, “What if I don’t want shit to happen.”

“What’s life without a few mix-ups?” you asked, shrugging.

He groaned, “I’m gonna have to let her stay, aren’t I?”

“It would be nice of you, for at least the short term while she gets back on her feet. I’m sure you know how it feels to be on your dad’s bad side.”

“Can we at least charge her rent?”

You snorted and pinched his bicep, “No, you may not. That’s your sister.”

“You’re going to regret that down the line, bud, when we’ve got a freeloader that we can’t get rid of.”

“Right, we’ll come back to this in a few months.”

Rafe put both of his hands on his knees and pushed himself up with a sigh, “Fine, I’ll go let her know she can stay.”

“Proud of you,” you called after him, laughing when his response was to flip you off.

I don’t know who we’ll become / I can promise it’s not written in the stars / but I believe that when it’s done / we’re gonna see that it was better / that we grew up together

Rafe proposed on your seven-year anniversary. You had an idea that it was coming, but you weren’t sure when. Admittedly, you were a little disappointed when it wasn’t during dinner or when the two of you stopped to watch the sunset in an abandoned parking lot.

In fact, he waited until the two of you were back in your apartment. You were both in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, you sitting on the counter facing him, him brushing his teeth and you putting on moisturizer. He was already shirtless and you were wearing one of your old college t-shirts, and both of you were in your most vulnerable states.

Rafe grabbed your foot when you tried to kick him and shook it gently, drawing a laugh out of you. You pinched his side in retaliation and he made a noise, arching out of your grip. After spitting and wiping his face, he grinned up at you, “Such a menace.”

“You love me,” you responded, confidently.

He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes and smiled down at you softly, “Marry me.”

Your mouth fell open, “What?”

“Marry me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I’m sorry is that a question or a demand?”

He rolled his eyes playfully and poked your side, “It’s a question, sweetheart, will you marry me?”

You gripped his shoulders pulling him closer, “Before I say yes, you couldn’t have asked me earlier tonight?”

Rafe blushed a little, “It never felt right. This feels right.”

And you couldn’t not kiss him for that. Both of you smiled into the kiss and he kept it short, pulling away to grab the ring he’d carefully picked out several months before. You couldn’t help but tear up as he slid it on your finger.

“Perfect,” he whispered, lacing your fingers together. One of his thumbs stroked over the ring band as you wiped your nose with your other hand.

“That was actually pretty soft, Cameron.”

“Only for you,” he told you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before helping you off the counter to go to bed.

You cuddled up to his chest when he flicked the light off and ruffled his hair, “Better be.”

You don’t ever have to leave / if to change is what you need / you can change right next to me

Rafe suggested dance lessons for your wedding. He said, “Babe, we can’t be just spinning in circles, that’s lame.” It reminded him of all the Midsummers he had to attend and that was unpleasant.

And you were on board for that, an actual dance seemed fun. The instructor you found loved your song and was super friendly, helping the two of you put something really personal together. Lessons were fun, but practicing on your own at home was more fun.

Both of you had two left feet and were constantly tripping over each other and stepping on each other’s feet. Several times he had you stand on top of his because, “I know better and at least this way you can’t step on my feet unexpectedly when you’re already on them.”

You shoved his chest, “Don’t be a dick.”

He laughed and kissed you, ending the playful argument.

You can ebb and I can flow / and we’ll take it slow / and grow as we go

It was all worth it in the end.

[mewtonian-physics]

Hello Penny! How have you been? Alright, I hope. I know it's been awhile, sorry. How is your job and school and professors and all that going?

I don't really have anything to say, I went to the store and got a compliment on my haircut, which was nice, just thought I'd check in with you, since it seems like you maybe haven't been feeling your best, and send a bunch of love your way.

Idk, I just really like you. You're super cool and interesting, and I like seeing you on my dash, you make my day better and I really want you to have a happy and contented life, like you deserve.

Also, have you seen those complications on YouTube of Chuuya screaming? My favorite is when you can hear him screeching in like an airplane before busting through the ceiling (when Daiza is in an attic with a gaint cake, I think?), like EEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

It always makes me laugh, he's so little and angry.

Anyways, be well - 🌻

hi!!! i've been okay :) classes are going pretty well, i'm REALLY enjoying the one law class i'm taking (stretches out my little hands for more) so in that regard i am just living my very best life. the rest of them are decent but it is hard to beat that one. i've actually started trying to take up poetry on the suggestion of a girl in one of my classes and i think i'm at least not horrible at it lol. i think prose is still more my style but poetry isn't half bad either, especially free verse because fuck rhyme and meter i do what i want.

unfortunately i do not have the job anymore :( it was a temporary position but wow they did not make it clear just how temporary it was going to be. i worked from thursday through to the saturday of the following week (except on sunday) and then that was it. so my contributions to the college tuition are not exactly skyrocketing. i did win a scholarship though, it's small but i take what i can get. why must college be sooooooo expensive the cruel hand of capitalism crushes me

i'm also considering signing up for a little show at my university i kind of want to try comedy... i might be awful at it but it could also be fun, who knows. i haven't made a real decision yet though i'm too anxious about possibly being bad at it lol

oooh hair compliments are some of my favorites. what kind of cut is it :0 would love to hear details.

thank you very much :) your asks always cheer me up, i love hearing from you and i hope you have a happy life too!

YES

CHUUYA NOISES ARE SO FUNNY

he'll just go 'HAH?!' and my day will instantly be improved. like of course he's gonna be yelling and screaming and such when he's literally being taken over by a god of destruction and calamity it's the fact that he keeps doing it all the time that just makes it perfect. and the SCREECHING i know EXACTLY what scene you're thinking of and it's one of my favorite examples. dazai's just sitting there with a whole little party set up complete with absolutely enormous cake (boy did the cake look good) and then just the quiet (at first) scream slowly getting louder and louder and the war between 'yay, chuuya's here' and 'oh god he's gonna come in through the window, goodbye cake' and you can SEE dazai having basically the same reaction i mean he sighs and looks towards the window like 'and i went to all this effort.'

i think the screaming is his internal rock star coming out. i mean he IS voiced by taniyama kishou, it's to be expected. (speaking of which, have you listened to any of his songs outside of the ones he did for bsd? because i've been listening to this one he wrote apparently way before bsd, 'sugar', and there's one part where it DIRECTLY MENTIONS chuuya (the real one) and it cracks me up. irl foreshadowing. plus it's just a catchy song) whole reason i'm weak for aus with chuuya as a singer is because it just already works. he might as well be. in my mind it is nakahara chuuya singing the bungou stray dogs openings. i manifest it.

also let's talk for a second about how i can count on one hand the amount of times chuuya yells about something that is completely unrelated to dazai. those two are a riot.

also also on that subject ranpo was so brave to pull that trick with the book like if he'd gotten even a little bit wrong he would have been so pulverized even yosano couldn't do anything. he would have been dust. this man intentionally pissed off someone who literally has a god of destruction inside of him. really brave... and also really stupid

he IS so little and angry though bsd wan was on point making him a chihuahua bc thats exactly the vibes. tiny loud and ferocious. i love him. one of the best characters in bungou stray dogs and that's just a fact. [claps] where is he asagiri show me the tiny angry man

[asocier]

peeks back into tumblr, stays purely for 🎰

( five random connections; not accepting! )

Cedric & Huan 

          I’M LAUGHING BC I FOUND THIS POST AND ALKJSLKAJDS CEDRIC IS THE SAME WAY cedric can’t see shit without his glasses but he refuses to wear them out in public and only wears contacts and sometimes he really has to choose between being blind and a danger to society or wearing his glasses which really isn’t a big deal because he looks good in them but it’s the principle, it goes against his standards for his appearance. anyway, i thought that was really funny and idk maybe huan and cedric can just be blind asses together alsjdlsa that would honestly be like, so lighthearted in comparison to the dark shit huan has gone through though, and even cedric has had his own rough upbringing and tumultuous relationship with his family. 

          i’m not entirely sure how these two would cross paths, but if they did, it’d be interesting to see how cedric handles huan’s trauma and whether or not cedric would see bits of himself in huan or like, resonate with some of what huan has been through like the idea of not being able to really be a child growing up, not understanding what trauma is at an early age, ect. granted, what cedric went through is not on the same level as what huan went through, but it’s not like cedric’s upbringing was super smooth sailing either so ??? i dunno, it’s something to think about. 

Emile & Mineko

          not that mineko is looking for sympathy or anything, but i feel like emile would have a soft spot for her. i feel like emile generally has a soft spot for artists thrown into the music industry because he’s come to learn how cutthroat it really is, and how soul-sucking the creation of music has become when profits takeover genuine creativity. emile doesn’t make the same music mineko does since he focuses mostly on classical music, but he understands how important of an outlet playing, creating, and performing music can be, so if mineko and emile were to ever cross paths ( he honestly would have no idea who she was because he lives under a rock, so it’s possible she could indulge in that ignorance ), if he ever caught whiff of that dark awareness that slips out from mineko now and then due to her unprocessed trauma, i feel like he’d try to brighten her day now and then bc he has this protective older brother energy in him ( and i think mineko is 19? while emile is 24, so there’d be an age gap if that was the case ). 

Alison & Kuroha

          first of all, i love kuroha. secondly, i see a lot of similarities between alison and kuroha which i think would make for some really interesting interactions, especially in alison’s  spy verse  which i would definitely be open to adjusting to make it work for kuroha as well. i bring up the spy verse specifically because i think kuroha and spy alison view romantic relationships in a very similar way, and also carry themselves in that kind of “two-faced” manner where upon first glance, they’re like pretty and feminine which makes you put your guard down and makes you vulnerable to when they’re actually about to kill you. like, they have moments where they can be soft, like their shared appreciation of flowers, but they definitely aren’t people you should underestimate. 

         just off the top of my head, i think a possible dynamic ( if you were interested in this verse at all ) would be that kuroha was associated with the agency alison worked for as like, one of the doctors who would treated wounded agents. because you know, you cant be sending agents to just any doctor, especially when the agency is doing some shady shit on the side. anyway, if we go down that route, kuroha would see alison a lot for check ups, physicals, treatment, ect, and, the girls could talk about their lives like friends tbh. another route would be if kuroha did autopsies for the agency, like if it came down to a situation of like “so this really important figure we’ve been tracking died suddenly which seems like foul play, can you confirm?”, it’s possible alison gets assigned to the case especially if it was suppose to be her mission before to take down that person but alas someone beat her to it. 

          this is definitely like, me digging deep into the spy verse lore and this probably makes no sense to you, but if this interests you at all, you’re definitely welcome to hit me up!!! even if you don’t wanna go down the spy verse route, i think canon alison and kuroha or even werewolf alison and kuroha could get along. cue alison trying to get sleeping pills for jaesung bc his ass is about to lose his shit if she doesn’t 🙄 also i read jaehwa’s bio and i love her too, spy verse is definitely open to her too if you wanna do that

Leah & Jaehwa

          leah’s so baby in comparison to jaehwa. i feel like it’d be a dynamic that would be like, jaehwa showing leah how to stay safe if she’s walking home alone in the dark, if she’s meeting guys for the first time for dates — self defense type of stuff. like leah would definitely look up to jaehwa if they ever met, and it might even get to a point were leah just thinks jaehwa’s so badass that she might get intimidated to approach alkjdalsjdlaALKJSDLKSAJ i don’t know off the bat how these two could meet since leah’s just suffering in college trying her best and crying herself to sleep because she’s stressed out, but like, she’d really admire jaehwa tbh

          i saw that jaehwa has a demon heart, and i was thinking that if leah in her angel verse ever crossed paths with jaehwa, she’d be super curious about why she’s sensing demon vibes from someone who looks human so that’s another possible connection route. it’d be pretty lighthearted for the most part though since angel leah is even more baby, but like, she’s a rude baby alsdlkas also cyanide teeth wtf that’s so hardcore what

Nate & Haruka

          OH SO THIS IS WHO JAESUNG’S HEART IS FROM hm hm hm my first thought is that, since haruka is also a werewolf, it’d make sense to have her meet nate in his werewolf verse as well! nate as a werewolf grew up packless essentially, being outcasted at an early age, so he has very much been living that rouge life and has that reputation of being a rogue living on his own. he tends to keep to himself a lot, but he likes city life, so it’d be interesting if it was a case of haruka and nate meeting in tokyo and kind of finding unexpected common ground. he’s kind of an asshole though so i’m not sure how much haruka would like him in the first place though alkjdkas—

[lovethyqueers]

hello marin, im very sorry to put this on you but in my memory you've always shown incredible wisdom and so much wonderful healing faith and i firmly believe that God is with you, my dear, which is why i'm approaching you right now. short story short i have suddenly found myself the proud re-owner of some extremely intense internalized homophobia and doubt and its not my favourite feeling in the world so i was wondering if you could spare some. idk. affirmation? comfort? prayer? just Something.

Oh, sweetheart, of course. I definitely have been dealing with a lot of that myself lately and it is no fun. Especially after realizing that I am a lesbian. It’s been difficult.

Let’s start with some scripture that I find reassuring during this kind of time (I wish I had my Bible with me because I have lots of comforting verses marked and written down in there, but I left it where I was staying for college, but no matter. I just can’t think of all the verses I’d like to share right off the bat):

Romans 8:28 38 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. *ESV*

Psalm 23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2    He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. 3    He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness    for his name's sake.

4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,    I will fear no evil, for you are with me;    your rod and your staff,    they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me    in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil;    my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me    all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord    forever. *ESV*

Here’s a post I wrote about dealing with pain & turmoil as a Christian.

And possibly more helpful, here is an ask I answered about Side A theology and why I believe it. It might help with some of the doubts/internalized homophobia you’re feeling.

Last resource and I promise I’ll get the meat of this answer: Hoperemainsonline. One of my favourite resources for LGBTQ+ Christians.

Doubt is a scary thing. Internalized homophobia is a... suffocating thing. It’s all this dark self-hatred that’s so nasty and vile. it makes you miserable.

I don’t believe God condones any kind of hate and I don’t think He wants us to hate ourselves. He wants us to feel His infinite love. But. Flawed, humans, we are- we lose sight of it. We hone in on negatives. And the hate we’ve been taught, it spills into our hearts. And if we don’t turn it outward? it’s easy to turn it inward. Which is just as harmful.

God loves us. God doesn’t love us any less if we’re gay, trans, bi, ace- no. God loves in a way that surpasses our understanding. He loves us no matter what.

I was taught that God can love you less for being gay. I believe you might have heard similar things in your life. But those things are simply not true. Where does this God, who sent his son Jesus to die for us, the one who says He is not willing for any to perish-- how can we say our God’s love cannot extend towards the people Christians have decided they find unlovable. Shame on them. Shame on the Christians who lead us to believe we’re loved any less for who we are.

You’re loved so much. You’re His child and even in the midst of this fear, this internalized homophobia, and this doubt- He is holding you, still. He loves you.

I will be praying for you, okay? This too shall pass. <3

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1976

Under the cut.

Bay City Rollers – “Saturday Night” -- January 3, 1976

They prove they can spell Saturday a lot. Anyway, he's going out to dance with his girl on Saturday night. The song is bouncy to a fault -- I feel like the repetitive, samey beat is following one of those balls the mind-controlled kids bounced in A Wrinkle in Time. It sounds like a cheerleading chant. Something to do aerobics to, not to dance to.

C.W. McCall – “Convoy” -- January 10, 1976

So, besides the cb radio fad, 1976 was also the year of the OPEC oil crisis and basically, it seems the reason truckers became folk heroes evading The Man in popular consciousness had its roots in international relations. Anyway, it's a baritone story song, but about truckers instead of cowboys. I like the verse, "Well, we shot the line and we went for broke/ With a thousand screamin' trucks/ An' eleven long-haired Friends o' Jesus/ In a chartreuse micro-bus." It's a silly song with a lot of trucker lingo (or fake trucker lingo, idk), and I don't exactly dislike it, but I'm not gonna listen to it again either.

Barry Manilow – “I Write The Songs” -- January 17, 1976

It's obvious from the first lines "I've been alive forever/ And I wrote the very first songs" that Barry's not singing about himself. It turns out "music" wrote the all the songs. Except that's obnoxious too. People wrote the songs. Also possibly birds, but definitely people. And it's musical goo.

Diana Ross – “Theme From Mahogany (Do You Know Where You’re Going To)” -- January 24, 1976

It's a song about regretting letting an ex go, and probably more. There's a ton of orchestration that sounds like it belongs in a lightweight movie, and Diana Ross doesn't put much emotion into it. It is a thoughtful song, rather than one calling for melodrama, but I would like to hear some emotion here, and I am not getting it. A trifle light as air.

Ohio Players – “Love Rollercoaster” -- January 31, 1976

It's a funk/disco thing. I've listened to it three times trying to get anything from it at all. The lyrics are dumb, asserting love is like this or that amusement park experience. I'd think "love rollercoaster" would be about how there are huge highs and terrifying lows, but it's not. It's horribly repetitive. I guess it's danceable. But I find it dull.

Paul Simon – “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” -- February 7, 1976

I love how pared down this song is. It's sort of funky, without all the funk orchestration. The simple drums are the main focus. The melody's also simple, without being dull. And the lyrics aren't complex; a woman is encouraging the narrator to leave his official lover for her. "Just get yourself free." But she's doing it so very nicely -- "I wish there were something I could do to make you smile again." Not that the song expects us to believe she or the narrator actually are nice. Or that it's really all that easy to leave your lover. But it doesn't tell you what to think about the situation either. An excellent song.

Rhythm Heritage – “Theme From S.W.A.T.“ -- February 28, 1976

Apparently, there was a TV show about S.W.A.T., and this was its instrumental theme song. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Not a good TV theme either. I looked up 1976 shows, and here are some shows with better TV themes from that year: Charlie's Angels, Alice, M*A*S*H, Happy Days (which surprisingly only hit #5), All in the Family, Barney Miller, Welcome Back Kotter (which hit #1 later), The Jeffersons (that Movin' On Up doesn't seem to have been a hit is shocking), The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Sanford and Son, The Bob Newhart Show... look, all of them. All shows in 1976 that I can find had better theme songs than S.W.A.T., often to a staggering degree. But songs don't reach #1 for being good. Still, usually I can hazard a reason for them. I can't for this one.

The Four Seasons – “December, 1963 (Oh, What A Night)” -- March 13, 1976

It's about the narrator getting laid for the first time. He didn't even know the name of the woman, which completely undercuts anything happy or fun about this song for me, and makes it icky. At least it's not falsetto. I wasn't born when it came out, yet it was overplayed on the oldies stations in the 90s so much that I developed a deep and abiding hatred for it.

Johnnie Taylor – “Disco Lady” -- April 3, 1976

This is a song about disco that isn't a disco song. As such, it confuses me. It's kind of a mild funk/soul song, and it's about how turned on this guy is watching a woman disco. Johnnie Taylor can definitely sing, and I'd like to hear some more traditional soul/jazz stuff from him. This isn't doing it for me.

The Bellamy Brothers – “Let Your Love Flow” -- May 1, 1976

I saw the title and immediately the song shoved itself into my head. It's such a mellow song, but the hook is still monstrous. The song is about how it's the season for love, so grab your lover and "let your love flow." It's one of many 70s songs about sex that sounds like it could be a song about how pretty trees are. It kind of is about how pretty trees are too. I rather like it.

John Sebastian – “Welcome Back” -- May 8, 1976

Welcome Back, Kotter was not on Nick at Nite or WGN or anything else that ran old TV shows when I was watching TV (rather than the internet), so I've never seen it. The theme song lays it all out -- someone moves back to his old neighborhood, where they need him. As TV theme songs go, it's fine. Just fine, though. When "Movin' On Up" and "Love Is All Around" were also theme songs for TV shows in 1976, why this one? The rewards of mediocrity I guess.

The Sylvers – “Boogie Fever” -- May 15, 1976

It's literal. You come in contact with someone who can't stop boogie-ing, and you will catch the Boogie Fever yourself. Listening to the song will certainly make you want to boogie, unless you are immune. A fun dance song, and I wouldn't be surprised if Tik-Tok made it a hit again in the next year.

Wings – “Silly Love Songs” -- May 22, 1976

"Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs / What’s wrong with that?" Nothing.  Paul even emphasizes something important in it: "Love isn't silly at all." Still, I can't say it's one of my favorites. I get tired of it about halfway through, and it's a long song. A silly love song shouldn't be nearly 6 minutes long.

Diana Ross – “Love Hangover” -- May 29, 1976

It starts with Diana Ross making sex sounds that I find embarrassing. Then she goes into singing about how she doesn't want to get over "the sweetest love hangover", and a minute and a half in it becomes a disco song. I find the entire thing irritating.

Starland Vocal Band – “Afternoon Delight” -- July 10, 1976

"Afternoon delight" is sex, but these doofuses may as well be singing about tea and scones for all the excitement this song has. It still doesn't deserve the hatred it's gotten. But it's not good either. The number of sexless sex songs in the 70s is just... ugh.

The Manhattans – “Kiss And Say Goodbye” -- July 24, 1976

He has to break up with the person he's been cheating with. It's an achingly sad Philly soul song. It also manages to be way sexier than the vast majority of 70s sex songs. Real emotion (or the ability to fake real emotion) does a lot, as does being able to sing like this. And beautiful backing music. It's so sad, and so good.

Elton John & Kiki Dee – “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” -- August 7, 1976

This song isn't mutual. Elton John's the one who sings "don't go breaking my heart," and Kiki Dee's the one singing "I won't go breaking your heart." It is all and entirely and completely about the male character's feelings. Of course it's an Elton John song so I wouldn't like it anyway, but I really don't like this one, especially because it still gets airplay.

Bee Gees – “You Should Be Dancing” -- September 4, 1976

I hate the Bee Gees. Not on a personal level -- as far as I know they're perfectly decent people -- but their music. And I have a particular hatred for Barry Gibb's voice. His horrible falsetto has caused me immense pain in my life. If I should be dancing, then they need to shut up and sit down and let a band that I can dance to take the stage. As it is, I feel like a dog during the 4th of July; I just want to hide under a bed.

KC & The Sunshine Band – “(Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty” -- September 11, 1976

Here's a command to dance that I can get behind. Or that my behind can get behind. Again, a great song for dancing but not for listening to from KC & The Sunshine Band.

Wild Cherry – “Play That Funky Music” -- September 18, 1976

Good for both dancing and listening. How you can listen and not get into that funk groove even when sitting, though, I don't know. Play that funky music till you die.

Walter Murphy & The Big Apple Band – “A Fifth Of Beethoven” -- October 9, 1976

This was the #1 hit the week I was born. It's a good one for me; it's by a guy who loved classical music enough to write contemporary music based on it. Whenever I'm faced with questions about what kind of music is my favorite, my answer is "the good kind." Anyway, this is a fun song.

Rick Dees And His Cast Of Idiots – “Disco Duck (Part 1)” -- October 16, 1976

Billboard used to base their hit songs on calling record stores and asking what was selling. I think that's how this stupid, stupid song reached number one. I think it was a prank by a bunch of stoned college kids who co-ordinated it over cb radio or something. It's about a duck. Who discos. With an obnoxious voice and obnoxious music. It's by a radio dj, and is as painfully unfunny as radio djs usually are.

Chicago – “If You Leave Me Now” -- October 23, 1976

This song makes me have a weird reaction. It gives me the warm, comfortable fuzzies, and makes me want to sleep. That last part might not be too surprising, as it is a soft song, but to me it is very much more than that. I have always had trouble sleeping at night, since birth. My parents hit on putting me into the car and driving around with soft music playing to get me to go lights out. I need to ask them if they played Chicago during that. I can't think of any other reason for my hindbrain association with this szzzzzzz....

Steve Miller Band – “Rock’n Me” -- November 6, 1976

Good bar rock, since it's the Steve Miller Band. Lyrically, it's also more complex than most of its genre. At first, he sings "I got to please my sweet baby, yeah." Then he starts singing about all the places he's been, including "Northern California where the girls are warm." And then "Babe, you know you are a friend of mine/ And you know that it's true/ That all the things that I do/ Are gonna come back to you in your sweet time." Well then. I can totally see @katatty's Duncan Huckleberry singing this song. And getting away with everything. It's a fun song, though (because?) the narrator is likely a dirtbag.

Rod Stewart – “Tonight’s The Night (Gonna Be Alright)” -- November 13, 1976

It's a sex song, and it is hugely skeevy. "Don't deny your man's desire/ You’d be a fool to stop this tide / Spread your wings and let me come inside." No, asshole, cover it up if you want to come near. And how about if you want her, you care something about her desire? This was a huge hit from a huge star, but I have never heard it until now. Ugh. I need to shower, this is gross. Also I hope whoever he's singing to is packing mace.

BEST OF 1976 -- "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover." I don't even think it's an amazing song, just a very good one, but the 1976 #1s don't leave me much to work with. Fleetwood Mac released some singles, but people wanted "Disco Duck" rather than "Over My Head." Tons of great music has survived from 1976, but most of it is not on this list. WORST OF 1976 -- "Tonight's the Night (Gonna Be Alright)". "Disco Duck" is stupid, but it doesn't make my skin crawl.