#I was writing and this song came up on my writing playlist

[algae-tm]

Kill Bill P.7

Charles Leclerc x famous singer ex!reader

Author’s note : all the songs are real although I’ve played around with who’s featured on what, but I recommend everyone listen to the songs I’ve chosen not for any particular reason just cause they slap and I had such fun creating a playlist for this AU.

Also, I have WAYYY too much time on my hands now that uni is over… so hope you enjoy - Algae🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by y/bff/n, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 32,324,487 others

yourusername : ‘TIDES’ out now on all streaming platforms 💚

y/bff/n : Now you did not play me Cellophane when i listened to this earlier! Why do you have me crying in walgreens by the edamame beans??

— yourusername : girl? do you want me to come get you?

— y/bff/n : please.

— y/bff/n : HURRY UP nobody gets me started playing and the cashier is wondering why I’m using grapes to dry my tears.

user1 : y/bff/n is so real for that cause what do you mean, “didn’t I do it for you, why don’t I do it for you?” y/n please explain yourself STAT!

— user3 : no cause the most devastating part, ‘WHEN ALL I DO IS FOR YOU’ y/n I’m in your walls, how dare you start an album like that wtf?

user4 : oh okay 😀

lewishamilton : So fun collabing with you

user5 : no cause we were robbed! we should’ve had XNDA on girls need love.

— yourusername : I was not about to sing about fucking and sucking with my surrogate uncle! Even could’ve been was too much for me. y’all should be lucky I brought the old man out of retirement

— lewishamilton : glad you made that executive decision but I’m not that old :(

danielricciardo : me rn - 🎧😭🕺🪩😭😢

— yourusername : I appreciate you Danny 💚

— yourusername : but make sure you give your therapist a ring yeah?

— danielricciardo : on call with her rn!

user5 : what’s everyone’s favourite track and why is it love on the brain?

— user6 : how could you even choose?? This might be a no skip album I fear.

user8: I’m sorry y/n did not lay out the 5 minute from the heart ballad that is Ex-Factor for y’all to just not talk about it??

— user9: “no one loves you more than me, and no one ever will!” You listening Lord Perceval????

— user16: “no matter how I think we grow you always seem to let me know… IT AIN’T WORKING.”

— user13: but like if she’s trying to send a message to Charles it’s a bit disjointed no?

— user10: ex-factor isn’t to Charles Leclerc

— user11: be so fr who is it for then??

— user10: it’s obviously y/n grappling with her conflicting emotions… it’s not meant to be for Charles. This whole album is her going through it. She’s sorting thru her emotions. Are y’all dumb or stupid?

— user15: alright now

user21: AHHSHHEJSJSJSKEDVDKZKSUDJ

— user23: real.

hallebailey: call me asap for any more collabs, had such fun on Forgive Me!

— yourusername: love you hal x

— chloebailey: do not call her! She got her chance call me! (liked by yourusername)

y/bff/n: SUPERMODEL??!!?? Another one you didn’t let me listen to???

— yourusername: cause I knew you’d smack me upside the head for begging a man to see me as pretty enough.

— user24: WHO DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE PRETTY ENOUGH?! CHARLES?!! LET ME AT HIM!

oscarpiastri: on repeat 🎶

— user31: Oscar 😭 it’s giving desperate

— user26: keep commenting, she’ll reply one day!

— user27: bros talking to himself in her comments

sza: album of the year I fear

— yourusername: Solana 💚 couldn’t have done it without you

user32: @oscarpiastri are you the homeboy she’s been secretly banging like she says on supermodel?

— yourusername: I have NOT been secretly banging anyone’s homeboy! Supermodel is the only track with joint writing creds! I fear @sza came up with that lyric. (Comment deleted by yourusername)

— user34: NO Y/N let Charles think you’ve been secretly doing Oscar!

— user35: @user34 love me some psychological warfare!

landonorris: first!

— yourusername: you literally are the last person to comment😒😒

••••

Y/N Strips Off Expectations on Her New Album ‘TIDES’

R&B superstar delivers sharp barbs and haunting melodies on her long-awaited LP, amidst relationship drama with ex Charles Leclerc.

By Will Dukes

June 10, 2024

If you thought the singles released prior to the album were indicative of the direction this LP would take, think again. Y/n’s highly anticipated latest release, "TIDES," is an ambitious and masterful exploration of love's euphoria and its darker, toxic undertones. Known for her sultry R&B style, y/n transcends genre boundaries in this 15-track opus, weaving together dance, electronic, pop, and reggae influences to craft a cohesive narrative.

The album opens with "Cellophane," a haunting electronic ballad reminiscent of FKA Twigs' ethereal work. This opening track is something we’ve never seen from y/n, yet her delicate vocals float over a sparse, echoing production, setting a tone of vulnerability and foreshadowing the emotional journey ahead. This track is a stunning prologue, drawing listeners into a world where love is as fragile as the titular cellophane.

As we transition to the 3rd track of the album "Forgive Me," the album's pulse quickens. The track opens with a haunting, ethereal intro that quickly gives way to a pulsating beat and assertive bass line, setting a commanding tone. Y/n’s and Halle’s harmonies are immediately striking, blending seamlessly while each woman’s distinct vocal timbre adds depth and texture to the song. Their voices convey both strength and a sense of liberation as they sing about reclaiming their power and refusing to apologize for their choices. Mid-album, "Doo Wop (That Thing)" introduces a surprising but seamless shift. The pop-reggae rhythm provides a laid-back contrast to the preceding tracks, reflecting a momentary calm in the tumultuous relationship. Yet, y/n’s lyrics hint at something more sinister, the song can be seen as a warning, y/n clearly saying to her listeners I’ve made mistakes and here is how you can avoid them.

I won’t blame anyone for mistaking her single “Kill Bill” as the climax of the album. That is what y/n wants you to believe but the climax arrives with "Mary Magdalene" an electronic ballad that ties with the opening track “Cellophane.” For me "Mary Magdalene," is a standout, embodying the album's central themes. Drawing on the figure of Mary Magdalene, y/n reclaims and redefines her story, exploring themes of femininity, devotion, and resilience. The song's intricate layering and hypnotic rhythms create an almost spiritual experience, inviting listeners to delve into its complex emotional landscape. The production is haunting, with distorted synths and echoing beats mirroring the disintegration of trust and affection. y/n’s vocal performance here is raw and powerful, her pain palpable as she sings, "a woman’s touch, a sacred geometry. I know where you start where you end. How to please, how to curse.”

"TIDES" concludes with "Mirrored Heart," a poignant ballad that brings the narrative full circle, echoing the album’s opening. With an album so tumultuous listeners would probably wish for a sense of closure. This song does not give you that, rather you’ll be left questioning ‘what’s next.” y/n’s voice, both fragile and resilient, lingers long after the final note.

In "TIDES," y/n not only expands her musical palette but also delivers a profound and relatable story. This album is a testament to her artistry, marking her as a versatile, timeless and fearless force in contemporary music. It’s a disjointed album, songs sometimes seem out of place, but like the title “TIDES,” suggests, and given the situation that inspired the album, that is exactly the atmosphere y/n was looking to create.

••••

INSTAGRAM

charles_leclerc

Liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,256,712 others

charles_leclerc : best believe I’ll move on to better things

user1: do y’all hear that?

user3: not you using lyrics from y/n’s song it’s giving desperate.

user4: poor Alex

landonorris: what is bro doing lmao

user5: oh -

arthur_leclerc: if before you had a chance now you have 0 😂

— user5: oh Arthur’s messy messy

—lorenzotl: we want our sister in law back, and this idiot isn’t doing us any favours.

user6: I’m sorry this is so disrespectful to Alex. Just cause you guys broke up doesn’t mean you can do this

user7: lmao get a life

carlossainz55: cabron… this is not what we agreed you’d do 😅

lewishamilton: 😒

— danielricciardo: 😒

— georgerussel63: 😒

— y/bff/n: 😒

— francisca.cgomes: 😒

pierregasly: brother delete this 😔

— oscarpiastri: 😂

(this post has been deleted)

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

[ellies-little-gun]

Joel & His Daughters + Love Someone by Lukas Graham

[hum--hallelujah]

like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid

Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.

Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.

"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.

"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.

Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-

"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."

Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."

Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.

There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.

"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.

"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.

In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.

"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.

Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.

In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.

"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.

Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."

Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.

Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.

"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."

Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.

"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.

He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.

He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.

Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.

"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.

"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.

It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.

Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.

The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.

He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.

"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"

Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.

"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."

Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.

Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.

Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.

The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.

"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.

"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.

"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."

Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."

A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.

"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."

"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.

Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."

"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.

"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"

Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.

Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.

It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.

He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?

If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.

There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.

"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.

Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.

"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.

Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.

Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.

"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.

"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.

"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"

Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."

It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.

Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."

"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.

Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."

Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.

Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."

[spaceratprodigy]

thank u for putting up w me reblogging all my old writings today. as I treat I will give u.. faith and spencer doodle.. soon..

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 14

"Diamond on a Landmine” by Billy Talent

[prowerprojects]

Everytime I want to talk about Sonamy I'm like "I don't even like it that much" but maybe it's time to accept that I do in fact like it.

[trashcreatyre]

The number one thing that sucks about me making aus is that they are so intrinsically linked with the playlists I make for them, like,,,, I really feel like ur not getting the whole experience if ur not also listening to the playlist for all the stuff I don't know how to draw in a way that makes sense/dose it justice

[neonsbian]

listened exo obsession w my headphones.....one of the best songs ever created sorry

[umilily]

♫

(Wow that looks tiny. But 👁)

i-

[sovamurka]

Not me suddenly feeling the urge to make a second Bayana playlist on yt.

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

okay I'm a tarlos "the night we met" truther and they will always be my primary thought when I listen to that song but. . . consider: season 4 seblos with "the night we met"

[starrkc]

32? for the spotify meme!

send in a number from 1 - 60 and I’ll use the lyrics from that song

It was evening and he had just finished an assignment and usually, he needed to unwind to get his mind off things afterwards. so he went to his local watering hole to get a drink. and immerse himself in the bustle of people and energy that existed in such a busy setting. especially since his local bar was a well-known one and it just so happened to be the weekend too.

a half-filled glass of whiskey on the rocks sat before him on the counter, his arm was resting on the countertop supporting his head by means of his cheek resting on it. and he sat slightly hunched over, his gaze watching the going ons of people at the bar.

there were all sorts of characters there on the weekends. not the usual crowd that he was acquainted with on the other days. starrk didn't exactly come here to drink. he had his reasons and he was known by the barkeeper.

Them other boys don't know how to act I think it's special, what's behind your back So turn around and I'll pick up the slack

a certain woman caught his eye. dark skin with striking sunshine hair. she was a looker for sure. and she was new here, that much was certain. and it looked like she was getting some unwanted attention. typical over-inflated egos thinking they could do as they pleased. his keen eyes watched for now. not wanting to interfere unless he needed to.

Come here girl (go 'head be gone with it) Come to the back (go 'head be gone with it) VIP (go 'head be gone with it) Drinks on me (go 'head be gone with it)

he watched her. and she looked like she could take care of things herself. she didn't need a man to intervene on her behalf. she wasn't a damsel in distress. just because she was a woman. it didn't mean she was weak and could easily be preyed upon. and he was right. she had shown those unwelcome pests parading as men she wasn't interested. but it made him wonder. would she be interested in his company? he asked the barkeep to the next drink she ordered would be on him. and if she accepted then he could take it from there. Let me see what you're twerking with (go 'head be gone with it) Look at those hips (go 'head be gone with it) You make me smile (go 'head be gone with it) Go 'head child (go 'head be gone with it)

[sailforvalinor]

.

[candiliam328]

hey remember when i said teaching dance again would wreck my spotify wrapped this year. yea i forgot about the Everything Else lol

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 18

"Break Down Here" by Julie Roberts

[brattysuki]

don’t read if you don’t wanna hear me blab about my gf