#i know the middle bridge is a lot of long clips. but it just felt right? it kind of broke up the fast clip pace of the beginning & end

[parakeetpark]

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Here’s my second go at making a Phantom of the Paradise video edit!!!

Had a lot of fun with this, love this film very much :-)

[fiendishartist2]

would you tell me, if i was worthy?– mp100 ageswap

"So, what do you think?"

Reigen Arataka, 14 year old con-artist and psychic-in-training, stood in front of his boss and mentor, Shigeo 'Mob' Kageyama. He swished back and forth restlessly, randomly throwing out hand gestures and posing to show off his outfit.

Mob blinked at his student. In his haste to leave for their next job, he hadn't noticed the boy come in. Now that he had, he was growing very confused– although, you wouldn't be able to tell by his blank, tired expression.

Reigen was dressed in a typical middle school girl's uniform, down to his shiny black mary-janes and the red bow on his chest. He even managed to pull his dirty blond middle-part into two stubby pigtails. He smoothed out his blue pleated skirt with a proud grin.

"You look… nice?" Mob said tentatively. Honestly, he didn't know what Reigen wanted to hear because he had no idea what was going on in the first place. Obviously, he answered incorrectly because Reigen puffed out his cheeks and scowled at Mob.

"Wh- yeah, I know! But I'm dressed up for a reason, shishou!" Reigen crossed his arms, pacing absentmindedly with loud clicks of his shoes, "This is my disguise for sneaking into the clients' school!"

Sighing, Mob closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We are not sneaking in, Arataka, I thought I told you this already." He held the front door open for his student and locked it behind them. With that, they started for the train station.

"But those girls said the school wouldn't let us on campus!" Reigen huffed. He was scrambling to keep up with Mob's long strides. Mob slowed down.

"And I said I would handle it." He squinted down at his dressed-up apprentice, "The costume is unnecessary… Where did you even get that?"

As Mob paid for the turnstile, he felt a small hand twist into the back of his coat. Linked by Reigen, they passed through the turnstile together without paying for two tickets. He felt a little guilty for how little he cared about Reigen's subtle delinquencies– wasn't he supposed to be a good influence on the boy? But, he really couldn't bring himself to scold Reigen for sneaking onto the train or scamming a few yen out of his classmates once in a while. He shook his head, tuning back into their conversation.

"Did I tell you that my sister's at college again? She left behind a lot of her stuff when she moved out, and she said I could borrow her old school uniform. Too bad she didn't go to the clients' school, but she did have friends there. I tried asking her about the spirit, but she didn't know anything about it…"

He trailed off as Mob poked at one of his dangling earrings. Did he pierce his ears too? They were big and heart shaped, decorated with glittering rainbow rhinestones. Eccentric, but stylish, in Mob's opinion. Definitely belonged to-

"Oh yeah, that stuff is Hanazawa's. I don't approve of his fashion sense, but he has a lot of cute jewellery." Reigen fiddled with the clips littering his blond hair. He lingered on a shimmering butterfly clip by his ear.

Mob hummed, "That was nice of him, to lend you all of that."

Mob's other employee, Teruki Hanazawa, was a newer addition to the Spirits and Such team. He acted as their PR manager– really, that just meant he manned the website (a horrible neon mess of spaghetti-code and 144p gifs) and talked to clients when Mob was busy with exorcisms. Since he joined, Mob's noticed an uptick in returning clients and a significantly more positive atmosphere in the office. Mob was just happy to have someone else talk in his place, as his own demeanour seemed to put people off and Reigen had a bad habit of overcharging clients. Plus, Teru got along great with Reigen. That was enough for Mob to let the ex-criminal esper work at his office.

Reigen grinned and Mob could only imagine the fuss Teru had made about getting to play dress-up with his employee. He probably set up an impromptu fashion show in his apartment the instant Reigen expressed his idea for his 'disguise'. Mob huffed a low laugh at the image of Teru and Reigen exchanging office gossip and painting each others' nails like school girls.

They took their seats on the sparsely populated train. Mob dug through his messenger bag, pulling out the Mobboy Colour he gladly shared with his student. It would be easier to let Reigen carry it around, but he had a knack for randomly losing things. And Mob won't deny, he liked to pop in a puzzle game occasionally when commuting to the office. Reigen took the Mobboy wordlessly, turning it around to check that his copy of PokeMob Ruby was still inside.

"Did I tell you I almost have all of my gym badges?" His student boasted, face shining as he looked up at his mentor. Mob peered out the window, trying to remember truthfully if he did know that. Reigen turned his attention back to his game, waving his hand around dismissively.

"I had to train a new ghost-type team, but I finally beat the psychic gym. It was no big deal though, with my new super strong team."

Mob peeked over his shoulder, "Is that why you have so many revives?" His face conveyed no emotion, but Reigen gasped and stammered at the accusation anyways.

"Th-that's nothing! Just a precaution, y'know, for when I need it, eventually…"

Mob smiled knowingly, leaning back in his seat. He hummed a faint laugh at his student's theatrics. They made idle chatter for the rest of the ride as Reigen showed off all of his rare and shiny PokeMob.

--------------------------------------------------

Once they got off of the train, they walked the rest of the way to the highschool. Reigen guided them around the winding residential area with a map on his phone. Mob was a little amazed– he didn't even know his phone had a map.

Reigen paid no mind to the people mulling about the streets, skipping the whole way as he talked his mentor's ear off. He jumped from topic to topic at breakneck speed. As always, Mob tried to keep up with their conversation, but he couldn't help but get distracted. Passing mothers chittered about how cute 'that man and his daughter' were and other teenagers heading to school doled out compliments on Reigen's accessories. It was all very nice in a way that was still new to Mob.

As he was lost in thought, they rounded on their destination. Reigen grabbed onto Mob's sleeve abruptly, dragging his mentor to the front gates of the clients' school before he could protest.

A security guard was stationed at the entrance. He perked up as Reigen and Mob came into view, holding out a hand to stop the pair.

"Good afternoon. How can I help you, miss?" He leaned down slightly, smiling lightly at Reigen. In response, Reigen sent him a smile so innocent it was nearly angelic. He looped his arms around one of Mob's.

"We're gonna need to take a tour of the school, to make sure it's exactly what we want. I'm going into highschool next year." Mob thought about stopping Reigen before he could spin an elaborate lie that would surely get away from both of them, but for now, it seemed to be getting them into the school. And Mob wasn't exactly keen on making a scene by trying to get to the clients another way. So, he sighed and let himself be a pawn in his student's scheme.

Mob cleared his throat, straightening out his already stiff clothing. He tried to remember how his mother held herself– authoritative and serious in a way that lent her an air of untouchability. Judging by how the guard stiffened and peered up at Mob with wide eyes, he overcompensated.

Reigen nudged his arm, giving him a significant look. Mob couldn't read what he was mouthing, but the guard was extending his hand hesitantly.

Mob realised that he was supposed to be giving the man a handshake, like sensible adults normally do. He tried to be firm, but his hands were shaking a little from the pressure.

"Shigeo Kageyama." He greeted, "And this is my…" Mob faultered, unsure what Reigen was planning.

Reigen caught on immediately, "-Daughter!" He cut in smoothly. Mob stumbled over his words for a second– he didn't know that was the angle Reigen wanted to approach this at.

"...Yes, my- uhm, my daughter… A- Ayaka." Reigen's smile strained, growing more plastic the more they fumbled this interaction.

The guard frowned, "I'm sorry, sir, but parents aren't permitted access to campus grounds on such short notice-" Reigen's shiny pink nails dug into Mob's sleeve.

"But-!" He stuttered, eyes frantic with alarm. Mob shut his eyes against the embarrassing scene– it was starting to make his stomach turn watching Reigen grasp for straws. He knew he should step in, but his voice was dead in his throat and all he wanted was to give up on the job and go back to the office.

Then Reigen started to wail.

Mob whipped around to stare wide-eyed at his student. He was crying like a siren, face red and scrunched as tears poured down his cheeks. The ear-ringing sound was punctuated by the occasional hiccup and meek sniffle.

He side-eyed his gawking mentor. When Mob didn't get the message, he stomped on his foot.

"Ah! R-right…" Mob mumbled, tucking Reigen into his side in an awkward hug. Stiffly, he shook his head with a poorly hidden grimace. Mob never claimed to be an actor.

"I'm sorry, Ara- uh!" He swallowed shakily, "Ayaka just gets um, emotional when she's not with me. So…" Mob wracked his brain for anything else to say, but came up empty handed. His face grew hot the longer the silence stretched.

Fortunately, Reigen was a better actor (or liar) than him, "I-if only I didn't have s-s-seperation anxiety!" He punctuated the condition. His fake stutter made Mob surpress a wince– it was a little too put on. Reigen watched slyly as the guard broke out into a sweat.

In response, Reigen squeezed out another round of sobs. Mob was almost impressed that he still had water to shed.

"Oh, why did Mom have to leave us?" Reigen continued dramatically. At least that club he finally joined is teaching him something… Mob thought. Reigen sniffled loudly.

"N-now I can't even be with my d-dad either!" He buried his face in Mob's arm with a final whimpering cry, sealing the deal. Their target was pale and sweaty, with the guilty expression of someone who just made a teenage girl cry.

The guard scrambled to take their names and hand them day passes. He shrunk under Mob's steely gaze, blubbering apologies and platitudes. Unaware of the face he was making, Mob was trying to calm down from the stress of keeping up with Reigen's lie on the spot like that.

As they walked past the entrance and out of earshot of the guard, Reigen pried himself from Mob's side. He wiped his face of crocodile tears, leaving behind a smirk.

"Wow, that guy was easy. All I had to do was fake cry a little and boom!" He brandished the laminated card hanging by his neck on a lanyard, "You're welcome, shishou." Reigen sing-songed smugly. Mob resisted the urge to roll his eyes, choosing instead to pat the top of his student's head.

"Good job." He said, voice flat but sincere. Reigen preened under his praise, swishing his skirt more and more as his walking once again turned to skipping.

"Where are we supposed to meet the clients again?" Reigen popped his head into a random room. Shouting and laughing filtered out of the occupied class and Reigen jumped back, slamming the door in shock. There was already a spitball stuck in his hair.

"The roof. They should be waiting up there for us…" Reigen hummed, joining Mob's side again. He eyed the classrooms suspiciously. Mob flicked away the spitball, floating it into a nearby trashcan.

As they made their way up the stairs, Mob lagged behind his spritely student. Sure, Mob had started working out at that surprisingly welcoming gym down the road from his office, but he had nowhere near the level of energy a fourteen year old possessed. Unsurprisingly, he was out of breath by the time they hit the top of the school.

While Mob caught his breath, Reigen spotted a group of girls sitting in a circle together. They were laughing roughly, in a way that was cool to Reigen and obviously forced to Mob. A bag of chips sat between them and they were passing around a single measly cigarette. It was kind of pathetic, if Mob was being honest.

Nonetheless, Reigen sauntered up to the girls. He stopped just in front of them, a hand on his hip and the other by his chin. Their conversation fizzled out and each girl wore a varying expression of annoyance. Mob frowned.

"Hey, what's up?" Reigen said with a lazy wave. He wedged himself between two of the girls, sitting down and crossing his legs. He perched his chin on his palm, elbow resting on his knee. A confident smirk pulled at his lips.

The girls leaned away from him. One of them rolled her eyes.

"Nothing, just waiting for you to leave." The girl in the middle snarked. Her friends snickered, sharing sharp grins. Reigen laughed along half-heartedly. He leaned back on his hands, desperately trying for the same cool nonchalance the group of girls exuded.

"Right, right." He nodded, "But uh-" again, he smirked, pointing towards their little pile of snacks in between them, "I mean, what are you guys up to? Skipping class? Maybe… hiding from something?" With a raised eyebrow, he shot them a meaningful look. While Mob wasn't the best at social cues, even he could tell what Reigen was asking– were they the clients who had hired them to exorcise the school?

Apparently not, as they quickly became enraged.

The student on his left leaned into Reigen's space, poking him square in the chest. Her pink striped hair extension was coming loose.

"What are you, some kinda snitch?!" She snarled, "Back off, kid!"

Reigen reared back, hands windmilling as he scrambled to explain himself. As a hand landed on his shoulder, Reigen stilled.

Mob squatted behind Reigen, leaning over his shoulder to level the girls with an unimpressed stare. His mouth was pulled into a hard line, his eyes shadowed by his dark fringe. The girls paled. One of them quickly snuffed out their single cigarette behind her back.

"Do you mind if I ask why you girls are out of class?" He asked, monotone voice icy and harsh. They shared a nervous look.

"W-well-!" The girl who had been yelling at Reigen started, fiddling with her single, tame nose piercing.

"And picking on a middle schooler? Is bullying my daughter fun for you?" Mob cut them off darkly. He channelled the glare he had accidentally sent to the front gates' guard. The girl on Reigen's right squeaked– her eyes widened under many layers of black eyeliner.

"Ah! Sir, w-we're so sorry! We had no idea-" the girl with the hair extension nodded along to her friend, "A-and we were just heading back to class anyways! Please don't rat us out!" With that, she grabbed the other two girls by their sleeves and ran to the stairwell. They didn't even take the half-eaten bag of chips.

Reigen stood quickly, brushing his sweaty hands on his skirt.

"I'm guessing those weren't the clients?" Reigen shot Mob an angry pout.

"Shishou, I can't tell if you're trying to make fun of me or not…" He huffed.

"N-no! Of course not-!" Mob's embarrassed scramble to reassure his student was cut off by a pair of snickers.

Two highschool girls hopped off of a set of vents and walked towards them.

"You're the guys from 'Spirits and Such', right?" The taller girl asked as her friend continued to giggle at their expense. Reigen stepped in front of his mentor with a perfect customer-service grin.

"Reigen Arataka, future greatest psychic of the 21st century!" He introduced himself grandly. While he was posing smugly, the clients were red-faced, trying to hold in their laughter. Reigen jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

"And this is my boss, Mob! We're here to solve your supernatural problems, 99% satisfaction guaranteed!" Mob just hummed in agreement, fighting the urge to stare at his shoes.

The clients shared a sceptical look, but explained their dilemma anyway.

--------------------------------------------------

The spirit was easily taken care of by a disgruntled Mob and overzealous Reigen, spurred on by the cheering basketball players.

Mob wiped his clammy hands on his coat, expression twisting into one of uncharacteristic disgust. Eventually, he managed to tear Reigen away from girls pinching his cheeks and complimenting his outfit. All Mob wanted to do was crash on his couch and fall asleep to a shitty action movie, at this point.

The clients thanked them at the gates, drawing out small novelty wallets shaped like cartoon characters. Reigen was practically vibrating with excitement.

"No need to get those out. I'm not accepting payment." Mob addressed the girls. Reigen bristled at his side.

"What!? But we exorcised that evil guy!" He exclaimed. Mob shook his head, completely ignoring Reigen.

"If anything else shows up, please don't hesitate to contact us. We will take care of it."

The girls thanked him profusely. They put away their wallets with silent sighs of relief– blowing all of their birthday money on an exorcist isn't something either wanted to explain to their parents.

As they walked back to the train station, Reigen could barely hide his annoyance. He crossed his arms, refusing to face his mentor.

"I hope you understand why I did that, Arataka." Reigen rolled his eyes, but let him continue, "Those girls…" Mob's gaze shifted to the sky, tracing the pathways of birds that flew overhead. His eyes shone in the orange afternoon light, distaste glittering in his red irises.

"They needed our help, more than they wanted us to know. Spirits usually scare people who can't fight them, but…" Reigen kicked a pebble and it skittered across the cracked sidewalk, "That spirit was especially upsetting to them. The things it said were very… creepy." Mob's face twisted into a faint sneer.

"It's not right to take advantage of something like that." He placed a tentative hand on Reigen's shoulder. Reigen huffed, leaning into his mentor– he never understood why Mob was so skittish when it came to casual physical contact like that, so he tried to reinforce it every time. Reigen wasn't much of a hugger, but when your only source of genuine care lied in an emotionally stunted power keg, you learned to take whatever you could get.

"Sometimes… we need to help others without asking for anything in return." They boarded the train and took their seats. Reigen turned to look out the window. He sighed.

"Yeah, I get it, shishou." He conceded, "If I'm being honest, that guy did skeeve me out a bit." His earrings clinked together as he fiddled with them.

Reigen wanted to feel sorry for asking for payment, but he really couldn't. The generous cut he earned from each job helped him out more than Mob would ever know. Sure, his parents assured him that rent and groceries and utilities and all other manner of things a middle schooler shouldn't have to worry about weren't his problems, but Reigen wasn't stupid. He could see the instant relief in his mother's eyes when he brought home his paycheck. Sure, it wasn't those girls' faults he was dirt poor, but he couldn't help the feeling of resentment coating the back of his throat. He would just have to suck it up and hope Mob would treat them to dinner for the next week.

Reigen yawned, loud and obnoxious. That was a problem for future Reigen– present Reigen was too exhausted to dwell on anything depressing. Man, fake crying really takes it out of a guy, huh? he thought as he drifted to sleep, head lolling back and mouth wide open as he snored. Drool rolled down the side of his cheek and Mob grimaced at it the whole ride back.

--------------------------------------------------

That night, Mob bid his student goodnight outside his small apartment. As he made his way to his own shitty flat, Mob wondered if he did the right thing.

He wasn't stupid– he saw the way Reigen's eyes lit up everytime Mob paid him after a job. Not with greed, but a relief that made Mob's stomach twist. Like a massive weight was lifted off of his shoulders with each bill.

As much as Mob wanted to, he was incapable of prying into his student's home life. Every conversation Mob tried to start by subtly hinting at something being not quite right at home, Reigen would talk circles around him until he dropped it to avoid arguing with the boy. But from what he'd observed, it didn't look great. Mob just hoped he was doing enough by treating his student to dinner whenever he got the chance.

Mob shuffled into his home. He shucked off his loafers, slipping into a pair of bunny slippers (Reigen got them as a gag-gift– Mob genuinely likes them) and hanging up his dark coat.

Without changing out of his work clothes, Mob laid down on his couch. He queued up a movie– one of Reigen's B-movies he must have left in the DVD player the last time he came over.

Mob pulled an old, ratty blanket over himself, curling into its fraying fibres. Sleep pulled at his eyelids, the soft hum of his TV luring him to sleep.

Suddenly, Mob's phone chimed.

He knew before flipping it open who it would be; Reigen had added himself to Mob's contacts the second his mentor gifted him his first phone, setting a very distinct ringtone for himself. Whenever Reigen texted, Mob's phone would scream out the theme song to Reigen's favourite anime: Sailor Moon. The opening lyrics had been burned into Mob's memory at that point.

Reigen had texted him a few pictures he took in the gym– right in the middle of the exorcism, it seemed. Mob was across the room, turned away from the camera as bright lights circled himself and the spirit; meanwhile, Reigen was posing in the foreground with the basketball players whose game they had interrupted. He sent three different pictures– although it seemed the only differences were the faces Reigen and the girls were making. Accompanying the photos was a string of texts: 'can we get one printed for the office?' and then, 'i was thinking of starting a bulletin board' and, 'yknow for like showing future clients how many jobs we've done?'. Mob sent back a single thumbs up.

Reigen continued to send Mob pictures he had taken at each of their past jobs, trying to convince his mentor to print them all. He wasn't dissuaded by Mob's clipped responses– a simple 'Okay.' from Mob was the equivalent of an enthusiastic yes from anyone else. Reigen was well adjusted to Mob's 'old woman typing' as he liked to call it.

At Mob's light scolding for being up too late on a school night, Reigen reluctantly ended their conversation. He parted with a final photo from the night– Reigen and Mob, mid-conversation and completely unaware of the camera. Mob had a faint smile on his face. The picture was a little blurry, like Reigen had taken it accidentally while talking animatedly with his hands.

As Mob stared at their happy faces, he felt his heart warm. Just a few years ago, he was isolated from the world; never letting himself hope to have any meaningful connections with another person. But here he was– regularly hunting for the paranormal with Tome, finding a new employee and friend in Teru, building a new relationship to his health with the help of his friends at the gym. And continuing to look after Reigen, finally starting to feel like maybe he wasn't doomed to hurt the people in his care. Like he was finally worthy of being someone to care about in turn.

Mob set the picture as his phone background.

He fell asleep on the couch once again, drifting off to the quiet ambience of his apartment.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Loyalties

Sierra stops outside the derelict building, looking up at its crumbling facade. 

She’s burned a lot of bridges, called in a lot of favors, and in the end, gotten an incredible stroke of luck, to get here.

She doesn’t have time to wait for the backup she’s called.

She guns the engine and the car jolts up the single step, then crashes through the front door in a shower of shattering glass, crumbling brick, and splintering wood. She keeps it moving until the doors clear the debris, then jumps out, flinging a garlic gas grenade in either direction and clearing the room in wide sweeps before heading toward the stairs.

Okay, so she’s being a little dramatic. But the element of surprise, and the fact that she wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a trap, is worth it. If she’d just walked in the doors, she’d have been worried about being ambushed.

Sometimes the only way to avoid that scenario is to cause it yourself.

Now she’s the one who comes off as desperate and determined. Which is absolutely true. She’s not sure that will have any effect on the vampire she’s coming for, but at the very least, it might make the playing field seem a little more level. 

The second floor is empty, very clearly so. Sierra spends minimal time clearing it, before heading for the staircase and climbing to the third floor. The glass cuts and aches from her less than textbook entry are starting to make themselves known as the adrenaline tapers off. She wishes it would last a little longer. She’s still got a vampire to fight.

She kicks open the rusty lock on the third floor door and comes face to face with her nightmare.

Shay is standing near the middle of the room, stiff and statue-like, and there’s the faintest outline of someone else behind him, using his body as a barrier.

Sierra lowers the gun slightly. 

“I’m Sierra Stoker with the Chimera Agency. It’s over. Let him go. There’s a whole team of hunters on their way.” 

“He told me about you.” The voice echoes, and not just off the scraps of manufacturing machinery left in this dump. Shay’s voice is coming out in time with the vampire woman’s. It’s not even close to the first time Sierra’s seen a sire take over their victim, but it’s a whole new kind of awful when the fledgling is someone she’s known for years. When it’s painfully obvious how not-himself he is right now.

Is this what it felt like when Tio had to face Emma? There’s always been a horror in Uncle John’s voice when he tells that story that goes beyond the shock of seeing his former colleague and teammate turned, and nearly having his throat ripped out before she wrestled control of herself back from Arion. 

“I thought you might come for him yourself. He’s a fun little plaything, isn’t he?” The vamp continues. “Unfortunately for you, I found him first.” 

Sierra can’t let it get to her. There’s too much on the line. “Let him go now, and maybe I’ll consider letting you live long enough for a trial.” 

“You want me dead, but I don’t think you’ll kill him to get it.”

She wouldn’t have to kill him. Sierra’s done this before, but with a human hostage, at Amarillo. To get to the vampire who had her teammate, she’d clipped his leg, dropping him like a stone and giving her a clear line of fire.

She could try it now, but this vamp is expecting it. The only way Sierra gets a chance at taking her down is to lower her defenses. Force her hand, then take advantage of whatever mistake she makes.

“What kind of life is he going to have with you?” She asks. Still playing the game, but hopefully, lowering the vamp’s estimation of her cunning.

“He’s mine now, little hunter. My fledgling, mine to play with until I tire of him.” The vampire’s head appears for a fraction of a second as she trails a line of kisses down Shay’s neck, and Sierra shudders. 

He’s been missing for three days. What has she already done to him?

He’s not wearing the same clothes he’d left in. Sierra knows that's a ridiculous detail to latch onto, but she also remembers that he was going to work the door at the Luna.

It might have been a simple case of wanting to remove the claim of another coven. But Sierra knows, bone deep, that’s not all it was. 

“You can’t control him like this all the time. The longer you use your sire’s influence, the more capable he’ll be of finding a way to fight it. He’s learned from a vampire who did. She locked out a member of the first circle. He can push you out. He’ll keep fighting you until he finds a way to get you out of his head.”

“Oh, after today, I won’t need to fight him.” The vampire laughs. “I’m going to make him kill you. I’m going to make him watch you die. And then he’s going to drink your blood. He will crave the oblivion of my control after that. The humans will never stop hunting him for killing you. His only safety will be with me.” 

Sierra’s sparred with Shay so many times every movement of his is muscle memory. But somehow, it’s still a shock when in one fluid motion he’s snatched a jagged chunk of metal from the side of a half-dismantled machine, covered the distance of the room, and driven it into her side.

Because it’s not his movements. It’s his sire’s.

It’s also the opportunity she needs.

She has one shot at this.

She ignores every instinct screaming at her to pull back, and throws herself forward, metal digging into her side, arm swinging over Shay’s shoulder for a clear shot at the laughing vamp behind him.

In the split second it takes for the bullet to reach her, the woman’s face shifts from glee to shock.

Good. I want you to know you failed.

(This is actually a companion story in Sierra's POV to a Whumptober series I wrote last fall! You can read that series on my WorldAnvil here, and today's fic here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter

[angelatmidnight1]

ahh great tysm! could i request a lee!octane x ler!reader where octane is blasting loud music from his room and won’t turn it down so the reader tickles him to get him to shut it off, and it ends up in a whole tickle fight between the two? thanks!!

Turn Down For What!

You are a new support Legend to join the Apex Games and are scheduled for a variety of lessons with the veterans of the game. Combat training was difficult enough, but you managed to get through it to Bangalore’s satisfaction. Now, it was time for another important lesson: picking your teammates up when they fall. Lifeline shows you the proper technique for reviving squadmates, but the lesson is interrupted by loud, blaring music coming from Octane’s room. You’d only met the speedster once or twice; he never sat still long enough to have a full conversation. You offer to go to his room to ask him to turn the music down, but not before Ajay sees you off with an interesting tidbit about him.

“Ajay…”

You cast an uncertain look at the combat medic beside you, holding the resuscitation syringe in a shaky hand. The MRVN was knelt down in front of you, animating the bleeding out effect, which only made your hands that much shakier. “I can’t...they’re gonna die…”

Lifeline shook her head and put a firm, yet comforting hand on your shoulder. “They won’t if yuh help ‘em. Remember what I told yuh to do?”

You frowned and met her eyes again, but she wasn’t backing off. So, you didn’t have a choice but to get close to the robot and help them onto their back. That was the first step. Then, you made sure that their arms were extended out by their sides to jab them with the serum. You hesitated; wouldn’t that hurt them?

Probably less than dying would. You thought, flinching a little bit when the combat medic squeezed your shoulder, urging you on. You pursed your lips and brought your hand down in one swift motion to inject the serum. At first, the MRVN flinched and reeled forward, but then they were able to grab your hand and stand up. Once they were on their feet, MRVN’s monitor flashed a smiley face, and you allowed yourself to breathe.

Lifeline smiled and nudged your arm. “See, what’d I tell ya, (y/n)? Yuh a natural doctor yuhself.” She complimented. She handed the MRVN her healing drone and a shield battery. Then, she looked at you again, her gaze serious. “I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ya gonna see a lot of bumps and scrapes once ya in the games. Even hesitatin’ for a second can determine whether ya get ya squad up or not.” She said, standing in front of you with her hands on her hips. “So you gotta get used to lookin’ at it.”

You sighed, shoulders slouching. “I know,” You admitted while rubbing the back of your neck. “I’ll get better at this.”

Lifeline scoffed. “‘Course ya are,” She answered matter-of-factly, making you arch a brow. When looked up, she was already handing you another syringe. “We gon’ keep practicing until ya feel comfortable.”

And that’s what you did. Ajay stayed by your side while you practiced reviving MRVNS. Over time, you felt more confident and got the robots to their feet more quickly. You gave the medic a huge smile, making her chuckle, but then she gestured to the robot in front of you. You looked at the MRVN, holding the syringe in a better grip, and moved to jab their arm. Well, that was until a loud guitar rift startled you, making you stick the syringe into the robot’s optic instead. The MRVN’s monitor flashed an exclamation point and you yelped, trying to correct the mistake.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to--”

Lifeline held up her hand and shook her head, sending her D.O.C. over to revive the robot instead. Then she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I swear, one of these days, Silva…”

You looked at her curiously and cocked your head to the side. “Who?” You asked. Although you had an inkling about who she was talking about, you’d never learned the Legend’s real name. He wasn’t an easy man to get a hold of.

“Octavio Silva. But ya might know him better as Octane,” Ajay explained, having to raise her voice over the music. “Boy’s gon lose his hearin’, playin’ music that loud.”

The MRVN handed the syringe back to you, and you gave it back to the medic. You had to admit, the music was really loud. You wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of the Outlands could hear it. “I can ask him to turn it down,” You offered, putting your hands in your pockets. “That way we can continue with the lesson.”

Lifeline chuckled and shook her head. “O’s as stubborn as it gets, but if ya want to try, go ahead.” She said, nodding in the direction of his room. An idea came to her just before you could leave the medbay, and she called your name, making you turn around. “(Y/N), in case he refuses to turn it down, there’s somethin’ ya can do…”

What Ajay told you made you grin, and that grin stuck even as you approached the speedster’s door. Who knew that the fastest, most daring Legend in the Apex Games was ticklish? Welp, you did, now! You knocked on the door, not really expecting a response, but you thought it’d be polite to do it anyway. Octavio never came, most likely from not hearing it, so you let yourself in. You flinched, the sounds hitting you like tidal waves, which made you cover up your ears. In the center of the room, the adrenaline junkie was hopping from jump pad to jump pad, practicing trick shots in time with the music. You cleared your throat and called out to him.

“Octavio? Octavio!”

No luck. You rolled your eyes and walked towards him. That mischievous grin tugged at the corner of your lips as you got close, but you’d need to wait for him to land before you could get him. After another bounce, he landed back on the floor, which gave you the opportunity to tweak his side. Octane cried out and jumped away from the sudden touch. He whirled around and faced you, holding his arm against his side.

“Uh...hola? You need something?”

Since he wasn’t wearing his mask, you could read his lips, but you’d prefer to hear him. You pointed to your ears and shook your head. Octane obliged by turning his speakers’ volume down a tiny bit.

“Make it quick, I gotta get these clips uploaded so I can edit them.” Octane urged. He turned off the camera on his desk and turned to you again. His eyebrows rose. “Wait, we’ve met before. You’re new around here, right?”

You nodded, raising your voice a bit since the music was still loud. “Yeah, I’m (Y/N). We spoke a few times on the dropship.”

“Right! Well, I’m kinda in the middle of something, so we’ll have to hang out later.” Octavio chuckled, cranking his speakers back up to full volume. You flinched and hurried beside him to turn it back down.

His head snapped over to you and he grabbed the speaker. “What’re you doing?” He exclaimed, holding it just out of your reach. You huffed and tried to take it back from him. Octane, however, was much taller than you.

“It’s too loud, Octavio! Can’t you just turn it down a little--”

“Psh, no! I’m listening to this.”

You groaned and hopped up towards the speaker, missing it by inches. “Half of the ship is listening to it! Just turn it down, please?” You insisted. Instead of complying, Octane put the speaker on a shelf that was far out of your reach, and you weren’t skilled on using his jump pads yet. You narrowed your eyes and poked his side again, making him gasp.

“I’ll turn it down in a sehehecond!” He snapped, making a poor attempt at stifling his chuckles. You poked him again, making him yelp and make a grab for your hands, which you dodged by jabbing him in the stomach instead. “Stohop! Why ahare you poking me?”

You smiled and held out your hands, wiggling your fingers tauntingly. “Because Ajay told me that you weren’t gonna turn it down, and that I can tickle you if you refuse!” You chirped. Your smile turned into a cheeky grin when the speedster wrapped an arm against his torso, which only encouraged you to get closer. “So let me ask you again, Octavio, will you turn the music down?” You arched an expectant brow at him and managed to back him into a corner. The speedster shook his head, poised to defend himself.

“NooOOOO---”

That’s all you needed to hear to lunge at him. He managed to catch you and hold you by the arms before you could knock him over. You, however, had combat training with Anita earlier in the day, and you put that training to good use. You stuck your leg out and hooked it around his, pulling it towards you. This made him lose his balance and fall like a sack of potatoes. You cheered victoriously, shaking his hands off, and worked to get his arms pinned down.

Octavio grunted and pushed your shoulders, unknowingly freeing up the sweet spot that Lifeline mentioned. “Stop! Seriously, I have things to doOOOOHOHOHOHOHO! NO! GEHEHET OHOHOHFF!”

You’d buried your hands underneath his arms and wiggled your nails along his armpits. He slammed his arms against his sides and burst out laughing. Now, you weren’t sure which was louder: him, or the music.

“I know you have stuff to do!” You laughed, drilling your nails into the center of the armpits. He responded by arching his back and letting out another scream of laughter. “At the top of your list should be turning down the music...right?”

“I’M NOHOHOHT TUHUHURNING IHIHT DOHOHOHWN!” The speedster fired back. He hugged his arms even tighter against his sides when you tickled at an even faster pace. He even made the attempt to buck you off, but you were straddling his waist, and just had to lean forward to counter his weight. You narrowed your eyes and opened your mouth to respond, but were interrupted by something thumping at your waist. You looked down at your belt and beamed; you still had some medical tape on you, courtesy of Lifeline. Your hands were trapped by his arms though, and you only had one way to free them.

In one swift motion, you ducked down and blew a raspberry into Octavio’s exposed stomach. He writhed against the floor, laughing even harder, but he still didn’t loosen his hold on your hands.

“AAAH! STAAHAHAHAHAHAP! DOHOHOHOHN’T TIHIHICKLE MEHEHEHE!” He demanded through his fits of laughter. He squealed when you blew another one, just above his belly button, and bucked his hips repeatedly. “DOHOHOHOHOHN’T!”

“Huh?” You glanced up at him and cocked your head to the side. He panted heavily, a grin still etched onto his face, which only made you smirk. “Sorry, I missed what you said. What don’t you want me to do?”

The speedster was still plagued by giggles and had to reel them in before answering you. “I sahahaid stohohop tihihickling mEEEEE--”

Instead of letting him finish, you took a deep breath and blew a huge raspberry over his belly button. Octane bucked violently and shrieked, the wild laughter immediately following suit.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!”

His laughter was contagious and you found yourself laughing along with him. “Oh, were you still talking?” You teased, wiggling your trapped fingers back against his armpits. He cried out with laughter and kicked his metal legs against the floor, prompting you to tickle even faster. Finally, he released your hands during another attempt to push you away. Then, like clockwork, you seized his wrists with one hand and held them above his head. He yelped and squirmed, protesting the entire time, but his fate was sealed...literally. You’d managed to tape his wrists down on the floor and clapped your hands together.

“There, that’s better!” You smiled, putting your hands out in front of you. You wiggled your fingers again and snickered when he paled. “Now, where were we?”

For someone used to moving at trailblazing speeds, everything happened so fast for Octavio. One minute, he’s vibing with his music and jump pads, and now he’s pinned on the floor, laughing his head off? You’d already confirmed that all of this was basically Lifeline’s doing, and she was well overdue for some good ole revenge.

Hermana, you are so dead. He seethed, snapping out of his thoughts when your hands lowered towards his armpits. He panicked; now wasn’t the time for plotting. He had to get away!

“No, no, no! Wait, (Y/N)! Dohohon’t tickle my armpits, plehehease!” He pleaded, preemptively giggling and trying to curl in on himself. You grinned and held your hands so that they were just touching his armpits, sending ticklish jolts up and down his arms. “I juhst wahahant to listen tohoho my music!”

“I never said you couldn’t! I just need you to turn it down.” You repeated, pressing your fingertips into the exposed pits. He squealed and arched his back as high as he could, making you laugh again. “You gonna do it or what?”

Octavio blabbered out something, attempting to bargain with you, but that’s not what you were there for. You tsked and gently scritched circles around each armpit. As much as you wanted to dig into them, you wanted to drag this out as long as possible. The speedster snorted, giggling uncontrollably, and uselessly pulled against the tape.

“Ahahahahaha! Nohohoho, por fahahavor!” He yelped, bucking his hips when you poked at the center of the armpits. You squealed, almost losing your balance, but then you sat back on his waist and continued the gentle scratching. “Lehehet mehehe lihihisten to my music!”

“Will you turn it down?”

Octane’s head snapped up to you; you were stubborn. If he wasn’t giggling up a storm, he’d tease you about Ajay rubbing off on you already. He shook his head and yelped again when you grabbed his sides. You pinched them, making the poor man yip and snicker, and earned a bark of laughter when you stroked along his rib cage.

“Iiii—heheheheh--nohohoho I wohohon’t!”

“Wrong answer~.” You sang, swiping your nails against each sensitive rib. He arched his back, swearing in Spanish, only to fall back down and continue giggling.

“Stahahahahahahap!” He whined, tossing his torso from one side to the other, which didn’t do anything to stop you. You ignored the plea and scratched up higher, teasing his center most ribs, which made him gasp and kick. “AH! Noohohoho nohohoho, nohohot thehehere!”

“Not where?” You asked innocently, opting to poke at the ribs on either side. You alternated the pokes to keep him guessing and giggled at his high pitched squeaks.

“THEHEHERE!” He yelled when you suddenly honed in on his ribs and scribbled along them like there was no tomorrow. He tried to flip onto his side, buck you off, anything to get you to stop tickling. But you easily kept up with all of those fruitless attempts. “AHAHAHAH!”

You smirked, pressing your fingertips into the spot. You drew little circles into his skin, laughing when he threw his head back. “Here?” You repeated, fluttering the tickles from one side of his rib cage to the other. He nodded frantically, drowning in desperate giggles, but you pressed on.

“Oh,” You continued, still smirking. “Cause I was sure you meant here…”

You walked your fingers up towards his armpits at a slow, slooow, pace. Octavio jolted and squirmed violently, his protests lost in his laughter, and his wrists straining against the tape’s hold. He was basically cackling by the time you got to where his armpits started, but you didn’t attack yet. You just held your hands there, snickering at the panicked laughter pouring out of him already.

“What’re you laughing for?” You grinned, flexing your fingers, but still not moving. Octavio screamed, arching his back, only to fall victim to another fit of giggles.

“Plehehehehease…” He begged. He held his arms rigidly and met your eyes, which just made you smile more.

“Please what? I’m not doing anything, Octavio.”

He groaned and opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. Instead of attacking both armpits, you only attacked his right one, while your free hand scratched at his sensitive stomach. Octavio’s eyes bugged out and his desperate giggles spiked to loud, hard laughter.

“NOO--AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OKAHAHAHAHAHAY!”

You perked up while dragging a finger around his belly button. He screamed again and thumped his head against the ground, wildly shaking his head. “Okay?” You repeated, dipping your finger inside his belly button and scratching around. The wail of laughter initially startled you, but you kept on scratching anyway. “Okay what?”

“I’LL TUHUHUHRN IT DOHOHOHWN! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” He yelled. He sucked in his stomach and drummed his legs back against the floor the more you kept scratching. You grinned, feeling triumphant...but you were having too much fun to stop!

“Yeah? You promise?” You chuckled, jabbing a finger into his right armpit while you continued to tickle his belly button. He flinched and nodded over and over, finally falling into hysterics, and then silent laughter when you dug into both armpits. You slowed down the tickling to give him the opportunity to breathe.

“Y-Yehehehes...I prohohohmise…” He panted. You didn’t notice that the tape holding his wrists down was coming undone, so you felt perfectly comfortable in pushing your luck. You took your hands off of him and brought a hand up to your chin, pretending to think.

“Hmm, alright, Octavio. I guess that’s good enough,” You began, putting your hands down at either side of him. Octane breathed a sigh of relief, believing that you were about to climb off of his waist, but you pinched his hip bones instead. He gasped and reeled to the side, but then you did it again, and again, and again, until he was snickering all over again.

“Hehehehehy! Whyhyhy ahahahre yohuhuh--” The speedster yelped when you used all ten fingers to tickle his belly. He cackled, but hadn’t fully recovered yet, so he didn’t have as much energy to squirm. “WHYHYHYHY TIHIHIHCKLE MEHEHE AGAHAHAIN?!”

“Because it’s fun!” You laughed, ducking down to blow another raspberry over his belly button. Octavio howled and laughed even harder. “Haha, Ajay was right. You are way too ticklish for your own good.”

Now he had two people to get revenge on. And, through a stroke of luck, he was about to serve you your just desserts. Why?

Because when he arched his back to try to get you off of his stomach, the tape split with a resounding riiiiip. You froze, looking up towards the sound, and gasped loudly.

“Oh shit--”

Octavio having his hands freed gave him a burst of energy, and he used that energy to take you down. He sat up and grabbed your arms, making you swear again, and you pushed your shoulder into his chest.

“No! No no, truce! AHHH--!”

Octane far outmatched you in terms of strength, and he easily wrestled you to the ground. He pinned your arms underneath his legs and immediately went for your sides.

“Oho, not funny anymore, is it?” The speedster ridiculed, his wiggling fingers a blur as he scratched up and down your sides. You let out a screaming laugh and tried to sit up, but he was too heavy.

“NOHOHOHOHO!” You hollered, arching your back when he reached under your shirt and scritched at your bare stomach. “AHAHAHA! STOHOHP! I WAHAHAHS KIHIHIHIHDDING!”

Octavio scoffed and used one of his hands to dig into your left hip, continuing to tickle your belly. “Well, I’m not! I’ll show you what happens when you tickle me, amigo/a!” He quipped, snickering when you threw your torso against the ground. He kept switching spots at an alarmingly fast pace: your stomach, hips, sides, even knees. It didn’t give you a chance to resist the sensation and kept you guessing as to where he’d strike next...which proved to be pretty difficult.

“OCTAHAHAHAVIO!” You shouted, the panic dropping on you when he honed in on two of your worst spots: your knees and your stomach. You shrieked and kicked your legs against the floor, which was annoying him, so he opted for laying over your legs to hold them down. “PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAP! I’M SOHOHOHOHOHRRY!”

“Stop? Me?” The speedster snorted and alternated the squeezing along your knees. You howled with laughter and desperately pulled at your trapped wrists, but he wouldn’t budge. “Haven’t you heard, (Y/N)? There’s no breaks on the Octrain!”

When he reached under your knees to tickle the skin there, your laughter was louder than anything coming out of the stereo. Since your left knee seemed more sensitive than the right, he focused on that one exclusively, and reached behind him to poke at your stomach. It tickled so bad, and he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. So, as a last resort, you decided to cry out for your mentor.

“AJAHAHAHAHY!” You shrieked, jerking to the side when he pinched at the top of your knees. “I NEHEHEED HEHEHEHLP!”

Octane cringed and stopped tickling you, glancing at the door. He half expected the doctor to be standing there, waiting to pounce, but she wasn’t. You breathed heavily and laid your head back on the ground, grateful for the distraction. While he wasn’t paying attention to you, you tested the grip he had on your arms, and were surprised to find that you could move them slightly. You took a breath and managed to pull one of them free before the speedster turned back to you. Without a second thought, you squeezed his side, making him yelp and topple over.

“AH! Noohohoho yohuhu dohohohn’t!” He laughed and gripped the free arm, forgetting about the other one until you pulled it free. You poked his ribs and hopped back on him, drawing out the tickle fight that much longer. Ajay could hear the commotion from the medbay, but all she did was smile and prepare for your next lesson.

I hope this was to your liking anon! This was my first reader insert fic. Please let me know with you think. If you don't like it, I can try to rewrite it.

[bluejayblueskies]

For the kiss prompt thing, could you do 34 and/or 66 with Jontim, please?

kiss prompt list!

34 - Returned from the dead kiss | 66 - Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In 

i did both! set in an au where tim survives the unknowing. additionally, in this au jon and tim were together in research and season one but then broke it off in season two for canon-typical reasons

cw for mentions of injury and grief, mentions of death, suicidal ideation (mild), mentions of hospitalization, mentions of paranoia and stalking, and swearing

Ao3 link in source!

.

Jon’s been awake for two weeks and three days when Tim finally works up the nerve to see him.

 (He’s not nervous, he tells himself. It’s not nerves twisting his stomach and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and making his hands shake ever so slightly where they grasp the doorknob on Jon’s office door. It might be guilt, but he dislikes the thought and discards it immediately. Hatred? That doesn’t feel right either. He’d shed that anger a few months prior, body still aching from being crushed underneath a building’s worth of brick and mortar and holding Martin while he cried at Jon’s bedside, hiccupping into the fabric of Tim’s shirt, He’s not waking up, Tim. He's never waking up.)

 He opens the door and sees Jon sitting at his desk, hair pinned up in a haphazard topknot and a jumper that’s much too large swallowing his body whole. Jon looks up at him, his eyes widening a bit, and oh.

 It’s relief.

 Tim lets the door swing shut behind him and leans against the wall next to the doorframe, hands coming up to grip his elbows as he hugs his arms close to his chest. One arm is still mottled with angry red scars, spiraling patterns of shrapnel laced along his skin. He rubs a thumb over one of the larger scars near the crook of his elbow absently as he says, “Hey. I… I heard you’d woken up.”

 Jon just stares at him for a moment, like he’s not quite sure what he’s looking at. Just as it’s bordering on the edge of annoying, Jon finally says, “Yes, I… I have. A- a few weeks ago.”

 “Right.”

 There’s another long moment of silence between them, this one tenser than the first. Jon’s avoiding Tim’s eyes, his face pinched and unhappy. His hands are fiddling with the cuffs of his jumper nervously, and something within Tim knocks loose at the sight. “I’m not here to yell at you, okay?”

 Jon startles, his eyes finding Tim’s for a moment before darting away again. He’s never liked direct eye contact, Tim remembers, but this is something else. Tim gets the distinct feeling that it’s at least partially his fault. Maybe a bit more than partially. Then, quietly, Jon says, “Why not?”

 Great. With a weary sigh, Tim steps away from the wall and drops himself into the ratty armchair that faces Jon’s desk. “Because it’s been six months, Jon. A lot has changed.” He makes a humorless noise. “I mean, it’s all the same shit—spooky monsters and fucked-up situations and a job I can’t get rid of. But, you know.” He rubs his thumb over the scar, shrugs his shoulders. “The Circus is gone. Thought I’d be gone with it, but I’m not. And you were gone, which made things easier for a while. Less complicated, because I didn’t have to look at you and feel—”

 Tim makes a sharp, irritated noise. He doesn’t know how he felt. “But you were just… there. Dead or- or asleep or whatever, it didn’t really matter. You were there, and I was here, and we both know it was meant to be the other way around.”

 “Tim—” Jon starts, the pity in his voice palpable.

 “No,” Tim says, giving Jon a firm look. “I don’t want an apology or- or pity or whatever. That’s not the point of this.” He sits back in the chair, takes a deep breath, and says, “I don’t remember when I stopped feeling angry. I didn’t visit you at first, in the hospital, but when I did, I… I don’t know.” Tim shrugs and looks at the floor. “I guess I just decided that you wouldn’t have chosen that. To- to be half-dead and dreaming while the rest of us lived.”

 Jon’s quiet for a long moment. Then, he makes a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so bitter. “No,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “I didn’t. But I did choose to wake up. I made a choice, and I- I think it was the wrong one.”

 “What,” Tim says, “because you chose to live rather than to die?”

 Jon shakes his head, just once. “Because I chose to be this.” He gestures at the desk, at the room around him. “The… the Archivist.”

 Tim takes a moment to consider. Then, he says bluntly, “Fine. Let’s say you did. You chose to go full monster, give up the mantle of humanity entirely, and then—what?”

 Jon blinks at him. “What?”

 “What are you going to do now?”

 Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally saying, “I- I suppose I’ll just… work?”

 Tim can’t help letting out a short, clipped laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

 Jon makes an indignant noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Nothing. I just—” Tim pauses, looks at his hands. There’s a worm scar between his middle and ring finger on his left hand that never healed quite right, that’s now a twisted knot of scar tissue. He focuses on it as he says, “You’re still you, you know? Even before, with all the shit you pulled—the stalking and the murder accusations and the questions—it was… it was still just you. And whether or not you’re still human, you’re still Jon.”

 “Oh,” Jon says, the word empty and hollow. “Is… is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

 Tim doesn’t know yet, not really. The relationship between them is still flayed open and raw, ripped apart by months of poor choices and hurtful words. But he meets Jon’s eyes, sees that familiar brown that he used to wake up to in the mornings, takes note of the small cluster of circular scars just beneath Jon’s temple, and decides that if it’s not good, it’s certainly on the way there. The thought leaves him feeling a bit weightless, and he realizes with an aching in his chest that he’s missed Jon. Not in the physical sense, because Jon’s always been here, conscious or not, and his presence has been burned into the back of Tim’s mind like a brand, an itch he can’t quite scratch. But still, there had been an empty space within him that he hadn’t been able to cover or fill, shaped like warm sunlit mornings and shared bottles of wine and kisses on foreheads and noses and lips. And it had ached, as much as Tim wished it hadn’t. That that Jon was gone and this Jon had taken his place. The resentment Tim felt at the fact was bitter and heavy and painful.

 It’s still not the same Jon, sitting in front of him now and worrying his ring between his fingers in a familiar nervous tic. But he’s not the same Tim either. Affection doesn’t come easy for him anymore and everything hurts and there are so, so many things he can’t forgive Jon for. That he doesn’t know how to. But at some point, the blanket of revenge-fueled anger had melted away and he’d just been tired.

 “I don’t know,” Tim says, because it’s true. But it’s also true when he continues, “But I want it to be good. It might take some time, and I- I can’t just forget about what’s happened between us, but…” Tim’s chest tightens, and his next words come out choked and a bit forced. “I missed you. And I’m glad you’re not dead, okay? I don’t know if you’ve convinced yourself that I wouldn’t be, but I am.” Quieter: “God knows I’ve already lost enough.”

 “Oh,” Jon says again, barely more than a whisper. Then, hesitantly: “I… thank you, Tim. I’m also glad that you… that you’re still here. For what it’s worth.”

 “You don’t have to…” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, lets out a long breath. “Never mind.”

 “I know,” Jon says, something terribly vulnerable in his voice. When Tim opens his eyes, Jon’s looking at him, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips. Tim can’t stop looking at it. “But I want to. I… I still care about you, Tim. I always have, even if I- I didn’t always show it.”

 The Tim of six months ago would probably have laughed at that. Would have said that it didn’t matter if he cared or not, or that if he really cared he wouldn’t have spent half a year tracking his every move and thinking that Tim was even remotely capable of killing him. (That bit had hit particularly hard. Tim had gone home afterward and scrubbed every reminder of Jon from his house, every picture and favorite mug and lingering jumper and that one souvenir from his trip to Spain that Jon had once rambled about for two hours. It had hurt, and when he was done, he’d felt hollowed out and empty. Enough room for the anger to begin to creep in, he supposes.)

 Instead, Tim sighs and says, “You know, that was the worst part. The fact that after everything, even when I hated you, I still couldn’t stop myself from caring.” He digs his fingernails into the soft skin of the inside of his wrist. “It hurt to care, so I pretended like I didn’t. But all the shit that happened to you—Christ, Jon, I’m not so much of an asshole to think that you deserved to be tortured and kidnapped every other week. I don’t know if anyone ever told you that you didn’t deserve it, so there it is.”

 Jon’s looking at him with wide eyes and lips slightly parted, and Tim feels something in his chest ache at the sight. “Don’t look at me like that.”

 “Like- like what?”

 “Like I’ve—” Like I’ve hung the fucking moon. “Look, that’s just basic human decency, okay?”

 “Okay,” Jon echoes quietly. He’s still looking at Tim and his lips are still slightly parted and the ache in Tim’s chest amplifies until he can barely stand it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s reminded of the first time he asked Jon, standing halfway inside the doorframe of his house after their third date, if he could kiss him. How Jon had looked startled, all wide eyes and parted lips, and after a moment had nodded wordlessly. How Jon’s hair had been soft beneath his fingers as he’d cupped Jon’s cheek and how Jon’s lips had been warm against his and how Jon had inhaled slightly at the contact, like even though Tim had asked, he was still surprised that he’d followed through.

 Tim looks at Jon, at the still-familiar shape of his lips save for a small circular scar near the left corner, and tries to convince himself, just for a moment, that he doesn’t want to kiss him.

 He’s never been very good at self-control.

 So he stands, braces one hand on Jon’s desk, and reaches forward with the other, stopping just shy of Jon’s face. When Jon doesn’t move away, he rests his palm lightly against Jon’s cheek, his thumb coming to rest just underneath Jon’s eye. “This doesn’t fix things,” Tim says quietly. “But I’d still like to kiss you. If you’re okay with that.”

 Jon hesitates. Then, barely more than a whisper, he says, “Okay.”

 “Okay.” Tim pauses a moment more before tilting Jon’s head slightly up, leaning forward, and kissing him.

 It’s still as easy as breathing.

[blitzturtles]

Title: Fever (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba, AbbaBru, (Platonic) Bucci Gang

Summary: “Hey, so… where’s Booch?” Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own.

Notes: For Day 1 of Sicktember, "Fever", because I never do anything on time. @sicktember

The morning goes like any other. One by one, the Don’s closest filter into the kitchen to get their first cup of coffee and whatever they feel like scrounging up for breakfast. There’s mundane conversation between the more wakeful lot; they aren’t allowed to talk about work until everyone’s finished their meals, which means the conversation doesn’t get much more interesting than whatever they’ve managed to get up to since the night before. It’s an odd sort of rule, but it helps to ensure that they can maintain some boundaries between their professional and personal lives, which further guarantees that they get more time together as a family, rather than as a team.

“Hey, so… where’s Booch?” Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own. It’s empty with no sign that the man has made it downstairs, despite their designated breakfast time ticking by.

Narancia elbows Abbacchio to get his attention when he doesn’t seem to pick up on the same thing the rest of them have. He makes a motion for Abbacchio to take off his headphones and repeats the question.

“How should I know?” Abbacchio deflects with practiced ease, but there’s an edge to his tone. Sharper than even his usual morning demeanor calls for, and it’s clear--from the way his eyes fixate on Bucciarati’s spot--that he’s as concerned as the rest of them.

“You sleep in the same room,” Fugo points out, matter-of-fact and oblivious to the daggers that Abbacchio shoots in his direction.

“Yeah, well--” Abbacchio falters. He doesn’t actually have a reply for that.

“Maybe we should go check on him?” Trish asks, ever the most reasonable of the bunch, aside from perhaps Giorno.

“You don’t need to go… crowding him,” Abbacchio trails off as Mista and Narancia race out of their seats, already making a beeline for the stairs. He sighs and gets up to follow them.

What he doesn’t tell the group won’t hurt them. They don’t need to know that Bruno had been complaining of a headache the night before, or that he crashed unusually early. Or that he had been less than compliant about waking up with Abbacchio.

“So much for ‘just a headache’,” Abbacchio mutters under his own breath as he follows the kids up the steps. He can hear the rest behind him, each as eager as the first two to check in on their once-leader. “Hey, knock it off,” he calls when he finds Mista and Narancia outside the door to their bedroom, banging on it obnoxiously.

“But he’s not answering!” Narancia whines, dramatic and loud.

“And you think this will help?” Abbacchio raises his eyebrows, but he moves to unlock the door. The moment he opens it, he can see what his tired eyes failed to notice earlier. Bruno’s face, as little of it that is visible, is bright pink. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and it’s obvious he’s been tossing and turning since Abbacchio left, which means he likely spiked a fever sometime recently.

Abbacchio ignores the kids in favor of making his way to the bed. He frowns at the dry, parted lips and the labored breathing that greet him. Bruno’s eyes haven’t so much as cracked open a hair, despite the sheer volume of Mista and Narancia. The rest of the gang catching up doesn’t seem to phase him either, even though none of them seems to be capable of shutting up.

Without thinking, Abbacchio undoes the clips that must have been left in from the night before. It speaks volumes to how poorly Bruno felt at the time. He always takes his hair down before bed, and Abbacchio isn’t sure how he missed that not-so-little detail.

“What’cha doing?” Narancia asks, startling Abbacchio out of his thoughts.

“He doesn’t like it when his hair gets sweaty,” Abbacchio explains without thinking. He splits Bruno’s bangs down the middle to pin them on either side of his face. It isn’t the most fashionable look, but it should hold.

“Guess you would know, huh?” Mista asks with a raised eyebrow.

Abbacchio feels his cheeks burn red at the suggestion, and he turns around to give the kid his best death glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

Mista throws his hands up quickly, “I was joking.”

“Don’t,” Abbacchio answers gruffly. He turns back to Bruno, trying to work out the best way to take out his top braid without disturbing him too much. He settles for loosening it instead, careful to avoid tugging it in a way that might pull. The point is to reduce the pressure, not add to his discomfort.

“He wears his hair down when he goes fishing,” Giorno speaks with such sincerity that it’s all Abbacchio can do not to snap at him, too. Plus, it would probably disappoint Bruno. If he were awake.

“Yeah, I pointed that out too. It’s weird.” Abbacchio shrugs. He would think that having your hair stuck to your skin with salt water would be worse than sweat, but he guesses that Bruno finds some nostalgia in it. He’s long given up on understanding certain things about his partner.

“I think it’s safe to say he’s sick,” Fugo points out, breaking the silence that follows. “We should probably get his fever down.”

“Right, yeah!” Narancia nods enthusiastically, then stops for a moment and looks dumbfounded, “How’d we do that?”

Fugo smacks him on the back of the head, “With medication and cold towels, obviously.”

“Hey!” Narancia spins on his heels, so he’s facing the other teen. He crowds in on Fugo until their chests are pressed together and Fugo’s reaching for something in one of his pockets.

“Cut it out!” Abbacchio snaps at both of them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders why he ever let the whole group up here in the first place. He’s more than capable of taking care of Bruno on his own, even if he had missed the earlier signs.

“I can go get medicine,” Trish says, a bit meek compared to her usual self, and she’s gone before anyone can say otherwise.

“I’ll go get towels?” Giorno looks uncertain. He’s never had to deal with anyone else’s illness before. Not like this, and he’s always taken care of himself while sick. Usually by pushing through until his body sorted itself out.

“I’ll go with you,” Fugo offers with a half-smile. It’s meant to be reassuring, and Giorno seems to take it as such.

Abbacchio’s just relieved to have less people around. Mista and Narancia linger, but he elects to ignore both of them in favor of tucking the blankets in around Bruno. The best thing for a fever is to sweat it out, after all.

By the time the other three get back, Narancia and Mista have made themselves busy by going in search of a thermometer. It’s really more like a competition between the two, but Abbacchio doesn’t care as long as it keeps them distracted.

“I brought some water, too,” Trish says as she extends her bounty to Abbacchio. In one hand is a bottle of water; in the other is the medication she must have scavenged her own medicine cabinet for. That or the Team first aid kit. There’s actually a few of those throughout the house, but Bruno’s the only one that bothers stocking them, and that’s only when he knows to. For the most part, they run out of supplies because someone uses them without remembering to say anything later.

“We got hand towels in a bowl of ice water. It should keep him going for a while,” Fugo explains as he nods to the bowl that Giorno’s carrying and deposits his collection of towels on one of the bedside tables. He takes one and unfolds it enough to make a thin strip out of it. He dunks it into the water and squeegees out the excess before handing it to Abbacchio.

“Thank you,” Abbacchio says, taking the towel and placing it gently on Bruno’s forehead. It’s worrisome that he hasn’t stirred in the slightest. That despite all the ruckus, he’s remained sound asleep. Part of Abbacchio wants to leave him that way, but he knows getting the fever reducer in him will help him faster than the towels will. He gently shakes his partner’s shoulder and calls his name until familiar blue finally peaks open.

Bruno’s eyes are red around the edges, and there’s no focus to them. He blinks at Abbacchio a few times. Slow and owlish.

“You’re sick,” Abbacchio explains with little to-do. “You just gotta take these, and you can go back to sleep.”

A quiet hum is all he gets in response, and it’s damn near enough to convince Abbacchio to take Bruno to the nearest hospital. He’s never known Bruno to be cooperative a day in his life. Not when it comes to being sick or injured, but he forces himself to be reasonable. To think logically. Bruno isn’t indestructible. He’s allowed to feel like shit, and that means he’s allowed to want nothing more than to be left alone to sleep off the worst of whatever bug he’s managed to catch.

“I know,” Abbacchio murmurs, more to himself than Bruno. He helps Bruno sit up enough to take the pills and helps him back to lying down after that. He fixes the blankets and puts the wet towel back on Bruno’s forehead. Once he’s all settled, it takes only seconds for Bruno to pass back out.

“It’s weird seeing him like this,” Fugo admits, quietly.

“I don’t like it,” Trish’s voice is somehow softer, but there’s more to it. Her tone holds something else, and Abbacchio curses himself for not picking up on it sooner.

“He’ll be fine,” he says, doing his best to be reassuring. The problem is that he generally isn’t. “It’s been awhile, but Bruno does get sick.”

“Yeah,” Fugo says quickly, eyes following Abbacchio’s. “He’ll be fine, probably by tomorrow. Besides, Giorno can help if he needs to, right?”

Giorno looks a little startled to be pulled into the conversation, but he’s quick to nod, “If there’s any kind of damage, I can replace it.”

“See? All good. You all should get to work. It’s late already,” Abbacchio points out. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t plan on leaving Bucciarati’s side, which means they’re down, not one, but two men for the day. “And, if you see Narancia or Mista, tell them to forget about the thermometer.” The best thing they can do for Bruno at this point is leave him alone and let him rest.

“Right, yeah, let’s--let’s do that,” Trish says, stumbling over her words as much as her feet. She’s quick to reach for the door, obviously relieved to be dismissed without having to do so herself. Abbacchio can’t blame her. He doesn’t like seeing Bruno like this either, but he doesn’t have a recently deceased-from-illness parent at the forefront of his brain. He knows how much that still eats at Bruno. He can only imagine what it does to a teenager whose memories of the event are fresh.

Fugo follows her with a simple nod of his head at Abbacchio. A small sign of his appreciation that someone is taking care of the man that he sees as his savior, even now. Abbacchio mimics the gesture in acknowledgement and almost turns his attention back to Bruno before he notices Giorno, lingering by the door.

“What?”

“It’s--” Giorno swallows, “It’s nothing. Take your time. We can work out whatever we need to until he’s feeling better.”

“I will,” Abbacchio says with a tone that’s almost dismissive. Truthfully, he’s grateful for the permission. To hear it aloud rather than to think it to himself, but he won’t admit that. Least of all to Giorno. “Don’t forget to take the other two with you.”

“I will,” Giorno echoes with the slightest curve of his lips.

Cheeky little shit, Abbacchio thinks, but he watches Giorno with a near fondness reflecting in his gaze. It’s odd how much the little bastard has grown on him. Not, he supposes, unlike the rest of them. Maybe it’s all the time they spend together, given Abbacchio’s position in Investigations. Or maybe it’s the mutual concern for Bruno’s wellbeing. Whatever it is, Abbacchio’s glad the kid sees things his way. Just this once.

[ka-writes]

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Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

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“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

——————

Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

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Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

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Chapter 3:

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Wilbur:

[athina-blaine]

MoMM Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

Chapter 3: The Empty Corridors

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I deserve that. Your friendship. After everything I’ve done since…”

“Of course you do. Listen to yourself; it’s not like you wanted to frighten me.” An inch of space sat between their hands. “Is this …? Um. Is this okay …?”

The winds continued to howl, and Martin's hand lay limp on the bed sheets. His face grew hot, and he started pulling back. Stupid idea. But then Jon slid his hand closer until their fingers brushed. Emboldened, Martin wrapped his hand around Jon's, his burn scar grazing the soft skin of Martin's palm.

He squeezed gently.

“No one deserves to be lonely, Jon.”

Jon had no response, staring out to the storm that continued knocking on their windows. He stared, and he let Martin hold his hand.

Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1

Martin was an optimist. He had to be. Anything else would have been utterly unbearable.

That being said, he was… relatively confident things would get better. Jon had confided in him the terrible secret of Magnus Manor and the truth of this hellish storm. The Lonely. And understanding a problem meant you were one step closer to solving it, right? It meant one step closer to getting out of the cursed estate you’d found yourself trapped in.

Most importantly, though, the two of them were talking again. Above all else, that gave him hope.

 Jon was waiting for him in the foyer the next morning. His nose was buried in a book, but when Martin approached, he looked up, and Martin liked to think he looked pleased.

“Good morning,” Martin said, hoping he didn’t sound too flustered.

“You as well. Would ... would you be amenable to sharing some morning tea? If ... if you're still offering ...”

“Y-yes, of course.” So yesterday hadn’t been a fluke; Jon wasn’t going to leave him alone again. “That sounds great. Um. English Breakfast, then?”

Jon smiled, nodded, and fetched them both a pot and one cup apiece. The porcelain warmed Martin’s aching fingers, a refreshing respite from the chill that crept so subtly through the halls.

They drank, and they talked about very little. Martin’s tongue burned with questions (–what’s it like living with these entities? How do they manifest? Will we get out of here soon?–), but he restrained himself; the age lining Jon’s face had soothed as he sipped his tea,  and when he asked Martin how he’d slept, there was a shy twist to his mouth.

Right now, Martin wanted to enjoy himself. Enjoy Jon and a warm cup of morning tea. There would be plenty of time to agonise later.

In the meantime, he’d just need to keep busy. Now was as good a time as any to give cleaning the manor another chance. Masochistic, maybe. Impossible, certainly. But at least this time he didn’t have to worry about being reprimanded. Probably.

One of the many study rooms that littered the estate would be a good place to start. Small as it was, its sooty fireplace and dusty couch was enough of a time sink for his purposes.

He was in the middle of battling a particularly stubborn stain when the door opened and Jon peered inside. Despite everything, Martin couldn’t help his trill of anxiety, made all the worse when Jon kissed his teeth.

“Must I iterate that it’s not necessary for you to – ”

“I want to.” It was still such a shock to just see Jon, to have them talking, that the words came out in a breathless, jumbled mess. “I promise. I-I like cleaning, honest. It keeps my mind off … you know, things.”

Jon paused mid-stride. For a moment, Martin thought he was going to be chased off anyway, and then he’d have to actually beg to clean, because the thought of spending another minute with nothing to do but contemplate their situation– 

“I–” Sighing, Jon brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Yes, fine, if you insist. So long as you understand that it is absolutely not an expectation of you.”

Martin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Another hurdle crossed.

He’d just convinced himself to relax and finally let his mind wander, soothed by the familiar, tediousness of cleaning a fireplace, when Jon unclasped his cloak, lying it over the sofa. 

“What are you doing?”

“Assisting you, obviously. Having you clean it in my stead when I’m the one responsible for it falling into disrepair doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Doesn’t bear thinking about. What didn’t bear thinking about was a man of Jon’s stature doing menial work like this in the first place. But Martin was hardly about to refuse his help … or his company, so freely given. “Um. Thank you. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, though. There’s literally no way you could have kept this place clean all by yourself.”

“I appreciate the reassurance, but the point is moot.”

Well, if Jon wanted to roll up his sleeves and work at a grimy fireplace, Martin wasn’t about to stop him. When Jon literally rolled up his sleeves, he bit back a smile. The skin of his forearms was paler than that of his hands and face, smooth and free of blemishes. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a bit of sunshine without his shirt buttoned up to the chin?

Not that Martin had any business considering a thing like that in the first place. God, his face was burning again.

“I hate cleaning,” Jon murmured as he dunked the spare cloth in the water bucket. “Nothing ever stays clean.”

“Yeah. Gotta do it, though. Oh, you should keep your elbow up. You won’t tire out your arm as quickly.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” Jon sighed. “Perhaps the fault lies with me. I’ve never been particularly good at domesticity, after all. The rare times my grandmother was home, the only thing we talked about was how untidy my room was.”

Martin’s ears perked. The opportunity to learn more about Jon and his past? It was too enticing to resist. “Your gram wasn’t home much, then?”

“Not often. She was the matriarch of our family, so important business kept her in the capital most days.”

Oh. How … odd. Martin didn’t know anything about how noble families handled representing themselves, but … “I figured your mom or dad would take care of that sort of thing after a while. Did your gram just enjoy the work?”

“Both of my parents passed when I was a child.”

Martin’s stomach plunged to his feet. What a stupid blunder to make. “I’m … I’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Jon said, waving him away. “I was barely more than a baby at the time. I simply don’t remember enough of them to mourn their loss.”

Martin wasn’t sure if that made it worse. For all that Martin mourned the absence of his father, at least he had fleeting memories of warm hands and a deep voice to prove he’d existed at all. That he’d had a father once. “Still, that must have been … a bit lonely.” 

“Not at all. I always had my governess’ supervision. She provided the structure and discipline I required.” Jon laughed, a wistful, breathy thing, and lowered his head. “I was … a rather troublesome child.”

That did even less to make Martin feel better, because he suddenly had this image, unbidden, of a little boy with big eyes and gangly knees, head hanging as his grandmother told him off in clipped tones, before leaving once again to the bustling capital. No hugs, or gentle forehead kisses. Just a scolding about his messy bedroom.

I’m sure you were wonderful, he wanted to say. I’m sure you deserved better than that. 

But he was probably just projecting again.

“I’ve always liked cleaning,” Martin said, instead. “Makes me feel useful. My mum, she’s … she’s been sick most of my life. Nothing too serious,” Martin added quickly as Jon turned his head. “She just gets tired a lot. You know, hard to stay upright most of the time. There wasn’t a lot I could do to make her feel better, but keeping things clean helped.”

“I … I’m sorry to hear your mother is ill.”

“We were really lucky, actually. We lived in the same town as a really good doctor. He was really generous with us, but eventually … I-I couldn’t keep up with the bills running the farm all by myself, especially after our last goat died. We had to sell a few years ago, and I had to find work in the city.” Even after all this time, his throat tangled at the memory of leaving his childhood home. “Managed to land a really good job at the lord’s castle, so I always had money to send home. Every month. Haven’t been late once, yet. Until …”

“… Until now.”

Martin opened his mouth, because, well, he wasn’t late yet. There was still time for Martin to send his letter: about a week or so. That was plenty of time. But he refrained, because saying as much to Jon felt … dangerous. Like he was tempting fate. 

Things were going to work out. They had to. The storm was going to clear, they were going to get out of here, and then … 

“Your devotion to your mother is admirable,” said Jon.

Warmth ballooned in Martin’s stomach, spreading to the tips of his ears. It was an absurd thing to receive praise for (oh, you love your mother, really going above and beyond), but … well, it was still nice to hear, every once in a while. Or at all. “Thank you.”

It took most of the morning, but, with their combined efforts, they managed to restore the fireplace to an off-colour white. Martin stepped back, basking in the glow of a job well done. Jon, however, didn’t appear quite as chuffed as Martin felt. Rolling out his wrists, the man collapsed onto the couch, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process and triggering an intense coughing fit.

“Break time?” Martin asked, taking a much more gentle seat. His only answer was more coughing. Poor thing looked utterly done with the whole enterprise, if the curl of his nose was any indication. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Unless you really intend to help me clean this room all day?”

Jon laughed, turning away sheepishly.  “I … yes, um … Well, this and that, I suppose. Reading, mostly. I’ve always had a penchant for it, and I’ve yet to make my way through the library. Um. Music, although it’s been quite some time since the gramophone worked. I took to baking for a time. I like to think I’d gotten rather good at it.”

“Wait, so you did bake that bread? When I first got here?” Martin thought back on it, how crispy the crust was, the soft and tasty inner dough, how fresh it had been. Martin couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten fresh bread. “That’s seriously amazing.”

“It’s hardly a complex task. But … yes, thank you.” Martin wasn’t sure if it was the haze of the dust, but Jon’s face looked a bit darker, a bit flushed. But then, the good humor in Jon’s eyes fell away. “And then there was the garden, of course. It was … well. A disaster, to put it mildly.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I killed everything, didn’t I?” Jon’s eyes dropped to his lap, shoulders sinking. “Not a single bulb flourished under my care. I … I eventually figured it was more merciful to give up than keep trying.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Would be better to start with anything but roses, he wanted to suggest. You’re just setting yourself up to fail. But that would certainly come across as annoyingly patronising. “Maybe I can lend a hand?”

“Pardon?”

Wait. No. What business did Martin have making an offer like that? It wasn’t as if he knew any better about keeping things alive. But something about the resigned nature of Jon’s tone tore at him; his mouth had fallen open of its own accord. 

“I-I mean … Well, it might be fun, yeah?” Martin tried. “Personally, I’ve always wanted to learn how to garden.” 

“Is that so?”

Martin nodded, intending on leaving it there, but Jon was watching him, waiting. Oh.

“W-Well, uh, when I was a kid,” Martin said, face warming, “I’d always dreamed of having a, um, like a little cottage? That I owned? With a great big plot of land in the middle of a forest somewhere. Would get married, settle down, grow flowers and all kinds of food together. It’s … it’s a bit silly.”

“Not at all,” Jon said, eyes softening, and Martin’s heart fluttered something fierce. “I think that’s lovely.”

He smiled, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace, because it had been a long, long time since he’d indulged in that particular fantasy. It just wasn’t feasible, these days, having a little cottage of his own or … or finding someone who’d want to marry him when he’s never even had a serious relationship before.

“Thank you, though, for your offer,” Jon said, cutting through Martin’s thoughts. “I’ll … be sure to consider it.”

The tight knot in Martin’s stomach unwound just a bit. “‘Course.”

By that point, the dust had become utterly unbearable, and they were forced to evacuate.

.

The brass of the door handle glimmered under the lamplight, rusted with age and disuse. How long had Martin been standing here, knees locked and shivering beneath the thick chill? Ages, by now. Griffiths was going to have his skin peeled for shirking his responsibilities like this, and the head butler would be perfectly within his rights.

But every time Martin tried to remind himself, that he still had so much work to do –

“… Hello?”

That voice. Still out there, somewhere behind the old door. Distant, but not beyond Martin’s reach. If Martin had already been here for ages, then that voice …

Wasn’t anyone coming for them?

If he opened the door, he could just take a quick look. Call out, see who needed help –

“And what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Martin yanked his hand back, hand burnt on the molten brass.

“M-Mum?”

“I always knew you’d leave for good someday. I could see it in your eyes, you know. You couldn’t bear to take care of your poor, sick mother, and now you’re off to traipse about the countryside with some invert.”

“I didn’t leave.” Tight pressure strangled Martin’s throat, the back of his eyes burning. “I’d never do that. Where are you? I’m coming, I-I’ll find you–”

“And what, pray tell, would be the point of that?”

“Mum, please, just tell me where you are, I’m coming–”

“You’ve always been a wretched liar.”

.

Martin lurched upright, sucking painful gasps through his aching teeth, his sleep shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. No light permeated the windows— he may as well have been in a tomb, for all that he could see.

Jon was out there somewhere. Alone. As was his mother.

I’m coming back to you. I’ll find a way out of here. I’m doing everything I can– 

Liar.

Martin curled up onto his side, wrapping trembling arms around himself. Even though there was no one else to hear him, no one to stifle himself for, he drove his teeth into his lip until his mouth filled with the dull taste of copper.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

[cosmixbun]

For those who don’t know the song ‘Hallelujah Money’, it is a song released by the band, ‘Gorillaz’ on the ‘Humanz’ album on January 17, 2017. Or more known as the eve of Donald Trump’s inauguration (keep this in mind, it’s very important.). The majority of the vocals were sung by Benjamin Clementine, the rest of course, was 2-d. The lyrics can be found here, if you want to read them. The music video can be found here. I suggest watching and reading both before really looking into this.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a big music person, I only find music video interest in the Gorillaz music videos. If I say something that you do not believe or have differing opinions, great. This is just what I bring to the table all these years later. There’s plenty more where I come from.

THE VIDEO:

I’m going to explain as best as I can with both parts so bear with me. Again, it would help to watch the video to see the background and the emotions in the video as portrayed by Benjamin. So, in the music video upon opening, we see the only person who will be the center of the whole music video, Benjamin. We see him in a shiny, gold building. This hallway, in the building, is a reference to the Trump Tower and Benjamin is portraying Trump, or at the least his ideals. The background images that are used in the music video are disturbing and can sometimes set an uneasy feeling. I’m not going to go super in depth on each image or video because there’s a lot but you can find the breakdown somewhere. In the music video we see flashes for symbols or things that symbolize power, such as the pyramid with the eye on the back of the US dollar bill (which is said to represent God or the illuminati, so pick one), a cowboy, and even a creepy clown video (not really a ‘power’ in a societal sense, but they affected how we lived for a while.) While the videos and pictures are shown in the back, the lyrics are being said. The majority of the time, the video and pictures have somewhat no connotation to the lyrics being sung. The end of the video ends with a clip of Spongebob screaming and crying, this was taken from the episode called ‘Karate Choppers’ from season one. The clip is right after Mr.Krabs, his boss, tells him that he’s fired. “You’re fired.” is one of Donald Trump’s signature quotes.

THE LYRICS:

Going into the lyrics I will also tie into the things that I had talked about in the music video. The lyrics in the beginning are more of acknowledging that the US is a growing country and that everyone is allowed here, except for `The scarecrows that come from the far east”. Benjamin then sings that to keep them away “Is by building walls, Walls like unicorns In full glory and galore” making a reference to the wall Trump had promised in his campaign that he was going to build. A lot of people in the states were looking forward to this and as it states, it was going to be a big project that would be looked at by many. Benjamin at this time in the music video is calm and collected and seems to be confident in what he is saying. He is also singing his thoughts about the American Dream, and how it is only for the starving, To me, this is saying that the people who don’t have it bad in this country don’t even have to think about the American Dream because they think they are already living it. Those who are struggling to get by everyday dream about the day where they won’t have to get up and wonder what their next meal is or even if they will see next week. Those people have their own dreams about the American Dream. He then thanks the people for trusting him, a reference to the fact that he is going to get inaugurated the next day. I’m going to skip 2-d’s parts for now and skip to the next time Benjamin starts to sing. The next verse that Benjamin sings is ‘Trump’ saying that even though this is how life is, we can’t do much about it, everyone in the world just wants power. We can’t be upset over something that is bound to repeat itself. He even says, “And the whole beasts of nations desire, Power”. In some way or another we want power. Trump definitely understood this and had taken it to a whole new level.

Now going into 2-d’s parts he sings both bridges in the song. In both parts that he sings he is singing directly to Benjamin. He’s asking these questions that we still ask today, “When the morning come, We are still human, How will we know? How will we dream? How will we love? How will we know ?” These questions are from the people and they are asking that if the world is so corrupt, how will we ever be able to love each other if all we can do is fight and argue. The first time 2-d comes to ask these questions, all Benjamin can do is listen. 2-d sits in Benjamin’s silhouette and Benjamin stays still. The second time he sings the same lyrics, Benjamin seems uneasy and worried, scared, and fearful. Benjamin’s hands are shaking and the book he’s holding, he is weary about. The music becomes more, ‘anxiety filled’. Then not too long after 2-d is done, Benjamin goes back to normal. Symbolizing that in his campaign and unknowingly, the years to come, he was going to be questioned and under heavy watch because not only was he a public figure, but a lot of allegations and scandals came up about him. In the same moment, he starts to sing, “Hallelujah Money” and rub his hands together in a way that you would say money, with your thumb, pointer, and middle finger. This was then showing that even after all of that, he still had support and his fame, all the efforts did nothing to him. He wasn't phased by a single thing that came towards him.

MY THOUGHTS:

So what are my thoughts on this music video? Three words.

Absolutely.

Fucking.

Incredible.

This music video was not only amazingly made, but Benjamin did the entire music video in one take. But coming away from that, the message that this brings to the table about how the former president saw the American Dream? How he felt about power and wealth? I think it captured it perfectly. The imagery that was used in the back of the video is stunning. The way they used the analogies in this was so intricate, but it worked and fit so well. The way that they went into it and went, ‘Ya know what. Let’s give it to em’.’ My absolute favorite part of this was the lines used to describe the different sides of the American Dream. The way they also used the tree analogy in the beginning to describe the idea of western prosperity just really sold it for me. The way this song was produced and how it sounds like a choir is singing with Benjamin to me is just the opinions of the people who agree with Trump and his ideals and them being like, ‘yeah, for the money.’ The kind of tone that song has is kind of 'rejoiceful' but having that hint of that ‘uneasiness’ that I had mentioned earlier. It just makes you think that it’s a normal Gorillaz song. The entire song is just powerful to me and after seeing it once again and hearing the song once again, and celebrating 4 years of the album...My appreciation only grows for it.

That’s pretty much it but I would like to close out with a quote from none other than Murdoc Niccals himself:

"In these dark times, we all need someone to look up to. That's why I'm giving you this new Gorillaz song, a lighting bolt of truth in a black night. You're welcome."

[hearteyesbowen]

Idk if anyone has asked you this but I was watching josh’s live yesterday and all the faces he makes when he sings are adorable anyways I was wondering if you could write something where he doesn’t like the faces that he makes and he gets self conscious about them but you reassure him that they are cute and that you adore the faces he makes.

livestream ☆ joshua bassett

joshua finally lets y/n stay with him while he does a livestream, but she tends to distract him without her even knowing it

warnings: fluff, shorter than what i usually write

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Please, Josh, I promise I won’t do anything bad.”

“No, because I’m going to be in the middle of talking to my fans or singing a song and then you’re going to do something that catches my attention and suddenly I have to explain to everyone who I’m looking at, again.” Josh argued.

You pouted, slouching on his soft bed. You reached for Franklin, his teddy bear, and cuddled it close to you as you plopped back on the bed. You sighed loudly, making sure to let him know your despair.

Josh watched you overreact on the blankets he left messy on the mattress. He was sat at the same chair in front of his desk that he always sat at when he does live videos. He thought you looked adorable at how you begged to be with him.

He remembered the first time he allowed you to stay with him during a live video. You were on his bed and admiring him from far away as he sung. Every time he sang a song or engaged with his fans, you could tell how happy he was. After he sang a Bruno Mars song, you felt giddy inside, so you silently clapped your hands together as to not make a sound. Josh noticed you and blushed while he stared at you. This erupted thousands of comments on both his live and his Instagram posts about who he was with and if he had a girlfriend. Of course, he didn’t get mad at you, but it was hard to convince everyone that it wasn’t you and only a friend, since you were often questioned on social media if you were Josh’s “mystery girl.” It’s also why you were not allowed to be with him anymore during his livestreams, just to be sure he wouldn’t have to do any other clarifying.

As for your relationship with each other, it was somewhat complicated. You both knew you have some sort of feelings for each other. You went on a couple of dates, a lot of them staying over at one’s house and watching movies. Neither of you had made anything official, your guess was that he wanted to take things slow. However, it didn’t dawn upon you how slow he liked to be.

You sat up and gently placed Franklin on his pillow before you stood up and walked over to Josh. He raised his eyebrows at you, wondering what you were about to do. You motioned for him to move his hands from his lap so you could sit. Once he held his hands up, you sat down on his lap and held your arms around his neck while he held you at your waist.

“Please?” You begged one last time, taking off the hat he wore under his hoodie and throwing it on the wooden surface next to him.

Finally, Josh groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can stay in my room, but no distractions.”

You smiled widely, tightening your arms around him for a hug. You heard a small laugh escape his lips as you stuffed your face into his neck. You pulled away and took a glimpse at his red lips, noticing how much softer they looked today. The room was silent, as if everything stopped. You gazed at each other for what seemed like years, just you two. All you could think of was how nice it would be to have your lips on his, holding onto his body tightly.

As if he read your mind, Josh slowly leaned up, hesitantly reaching for your lips. You both tried inching closer, but it was clear how nervous you were. Your lips were still somewhat far, but it didn’t stop the anxiousness you felt the more the space between you closed. You had never kissed anyone yet, so the feeling you felt as his breath fanned over your lips sent shivers down your spine.

The alarm on Josh’s phone went off, making you both jump slightly. You tapped the screen to check the time, seeing it was only five minutes before he said he would go live.

You turned back to him and patted his chest. “You should get ready.”

Josh sat there, silently frustrated at himself for not making the move. You stood up and threw yourself on his bed, reflecting on the past two minutes that you could have changed.

➢➣ ➢➣

Halfway through Josh’s livestream, you stopped paying attention to him. You loved listening to him and sing, you could listen to him forever, but the memory of your possible first kiss engulfed your brain every time you even heard his voice.

Now you were lying down on your back, holding your phone up high above your head with your headphones plugged into your ears as you blocked out Josh’s voice as best as you could. Usually his livestreams don’t last too long, but it felt like it’s been an hour already.

Clearly you were lost into thought, too busy scrolling through Twitter, that you didn’t even notice when the mattress sank down by your legs. Josh crawled over the bed, resting his hands on either side of your head and his knees between yours. Soon your screen was covered when a curly-haired boy shoved his head between your arms, forcing you to wrap your hands around his head. His face expressed worry the more you stared at him without talking.

“You’re less talkative than you usually are, what happened?” Josh wondered.

You shrugged, not letting out a single noise. He huffed, lightly blowing some of the curls away from his head, and plopped himself down next to you on his bed. You let him rest his head on your arm once he went to cuddle your torso, leaving your other hand to mess with your own hair. Instantly, the warmth of his body clutching yours overcame the uneasy feelings you had earlier.

“What were you looking at?”

Josh took your phone from the other side of your hip and tapped in the passcode, the day of your first date. The Twitter app opened, showing your timeline of tweets from the people you followed.

“Some of your fans are already posting screenshots from your live.” You murmured as you see the first screen recording of Josh.

A silent groan escaped his lips the more he watched the clip. He sang “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur, one of your favorite songs. You giggled as you watch him struggle hitting the lower notes, scrunching up his nose and his repeated use of the word “yikes.”

Josh had enough of watching that clip and exited the app. He went to the Instagram app and typed in his username, then going to his tags. Numerous screen recordings and photos of his livestream were being posted by the minute. Curious, he tapped the most recent one of him singing yet another song.

You stopped paying attention to the video, now only watching his face in disgust as he watched himself. You pouted, using your free hand to remove your phone away from his grasp and pushed aside some of the hair still framing his forehead.

“What ails you, dear?” You ask, holding back a laugh from your choice of words.

He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning for a second before sighing. “I make the stupidest faces when I sing.”

You pushed yourself up, using your arm to hold you up. Josh still lying down, he covered his face with his hands.

“Why do you think that?”

“Look at me!” He reached for your phone and quickly finding a clip to show you. “Why do I look like that?”

“I think it’s cute.” You argue, pushing his hands off his head.

Josh grumbled, almost ripping out the locks of his hair. “But I feel like I look like an idiot. I’m always making those dumb faces, like I can’t even sing normally. I hate seeing myself sing because then I just get self-conscious.”

“Joshua, you’re being so overdramatic. You look perfectly fine. If anything, your fans love the cute little movements you make.” You reassure.

He studied your face for any hints of deceit. You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks the more he watched you.

Josh finally sat up, your faces now inches apart. The tingling feeling you felt in your stomach a while ago came back. His fingers crept onto your cheek, pushing aside some of the hair by your eyebrow.

“You shouldn’t have to feel insecure about how you look, Josh. You’re literally the cutest guy in the world.”

Your whisper set off a sudden new confidence in him, something that he had been trying to discover since your first date.

“I am?” He wondered with little bits of disbelief from your comment.

The tips of your noses touched, and you hitched your breath. This has been the closest you two have ever gotten. You were not going to chicken out of this one, not again, at least.

You pushed your lips onto his, leaving a short peck on his lips. The new feeling of someone kissing someone set fire to your body. Once you pulled away, your eyes grew wide at Josh’s surprised expression. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes still wide open.

The corners of his lips curved upwards, forming his familiar smile. “Why’d you pull back?”

That phrase barely left you enough time to think about what just happened, as Josh crashed his lips back to yours. Your eyes widened at his sudden move, but you soon relaxed as the feeling of his lips on yours became more important than anything.

You reached up behind his head and clutched his hair, making Josh let out a soft moan. His hands snaked your waist as he pushed you back down on the bed, hovering over you again.

It wasn’t the most experienced kiss at first, but you quickly found your way. Nothing between you two has ever felt more passionate. Your lips moved slowly, still captivated by the thought of you being with each other.

Josh pulled away, lingering one last kiss on your swollen lips. Your eyes blissfully fluttered open, soon looking up at his red, smiling face.

“If I knew that talking about my insecurities meant you would finally kiss me, I would have done it much sooner.” He joked, reaching down to capture your lips on his once more.

A/N - sorry this is short and late i was finishing up with some online school work but now im on spring break so hopefully i can get another post this saturday !! also another sorry for the person who requested this , i was trying to finish my other drafts before i started requests , i hope u like it (: next post is the second part to twenty-dollar baby so be on the lookout <3 love y’all xx

[tofallinlovewithshadows]

Liveblog — St. Paul, Roy Wilkins Auditorium, 1999

Thank you to @theelliottsmiths for the recommendation!

Ah, is this the infamous drunk show? I suppose we’ll find out

WARNING: It’s a lot of me thirsting after Till. But I gotta be me, right?

Spiel mit mir

God, I love “Spiel mit mir” a little more every time I hear it.

The burning drum opening is the level of extra I have come to expect in my relatively short relationship with Rammstein.

Why do I love pigeon-toed Till so much? Such a masculine man, such child-like behavior—oh, there he is sucking his thumb again.

Watching Schneider drum is a sight to behold. That is all.

Tier

Aww, I always feel so proud of Till when he interacts with the audience. As someone who got a C in her public speaking class in college, I empathize with the stage fright.

I see you bobbing your head there, Oli.

Is Reesh wearing that coat or is the coat wearing him? Hard to tell.

Oh, Flake, when you dance, you remind me of one of those toy birds whose only function is to dip their heads in the water.

Intermission as I watch the Bachelor. Trust me, I’d rather be liveblogging this concert, but I’m in a group chat with my friends and it’s a complicated situation lol

Bestrafe mich

Okay, but that “OHHH” at the beginning did something to me.

I’m fairly vanilla, but there’s something about Till whipping himself?? I felt it for the first time when I watched the Rosenrot video and making of??

Fuck, his body. So nice. So foine. I love Chumby Till, but Ripped Till is gorgeous as well.

Sorry to be so thirsty...

Weisses Fleisch

The sparkler shoes. I would cause mass destruction if I ever dared wear those.

FLEISCH FLEISCH FLEISCH

Honestly, being at a Rammstein concert would be a hell of a way to find out you have epilepsy.

Schneider’s hips and Flake’s legs. That is all.

Sehnsucht

Yet another song that I enjoy the more I hear it.

Till standing still onstage always makes me feel like he’s mid-panic attack and I just

Is it the lighting/quality of the video or is Oli (supposed to look like he’s) covered in blood?

Not complaining, but why do Paul and Oli swap places onstage? Is this song more bass-heavy than I’ve ever noticed?

I love this bridge with the clapping; it makes me happy for reasons I cannot articulate.

Fuck, he just wrecked that microphone.

Asche zu Asche

It makes me happy when Richard and Paul stand in the middle of the stage and riff :’)

I can’t say this is one of my favorite songs, but I appreciate its energy.

FLAKE IS BREAKING IT DOWN AT THE KEYBOARD FUCK I LOVE HIM WHAT A CHARACTER

Yeeees, spotlight on Oli. So underrated. I see you, Lars.

Why was I surprised to see the mic-stands on fire??? There has never been anything to lead me to believe that something like that wouldn’t happen?

Ooh, the slow-down of the drums. I am a fan.

Seemann

Okay, this is one of my favorites. I absolutely love the softer side of Rammstein. Also, way before I even knew what the lyrics meant, this song made me want to cry. And I rarely cry over music. I did two years of German in high school and I vaguely knew what the line “mit Tränen im Gesicht” and it just

It me

It me mit Tränen im Gesicht

Okay, I feel like some people are not fans of the Slow Hammer, but I am a fan of Till’s back, and it highlights it, so I’ll take all the Slow Hammer I can get.

“HELLOOOO”

God, this song is fucking beautiful.

Was not expecting the🎵La-la-lalaaa🎵 but I am here for it.

Stripped (intro)

Let me see Till stripped

So sad this was cut short, it’s one of my favorites.

Someone’s string broke, correct? A shame.

Du riechst so gut

Another one of my controversial “not favorites” I’M SORRY

I keep thinking Flake and Schneider have 16-pack abs, but it’s just their outfits.

Why does this sound so off to me? Is it because they’re shit-faced or am I just tired after watching the Bachelor? There is no reason that show needs to be TWO HOURS LONG, but I digress.

Flake’s doing his toy-bird dance again lol how does one have so little rhythm, yet is such a compelling dancer?

Oh no, fucked-up guitar. Can’t blame the Bachelor on that one.

And the spotlight shines on Richard’s torso. As it should. Fuck, he has a lovely chest.

Du hast

Okay. I know. “It’S oVeRrAtEd AnD oVeRpLaYeD.” But I could not give less of a fuck???

It’s overplayed because it’s fucking catchy? And it’s a lot of people’s gateway into Rammstein, and I think people should let people enjoy it.

Anyway

I love when Till laughs :’)

The reverberating phone cracks me up and I’m not sure why?

Till spitting up that water like a fucking whale and its blowhole.

Lol what is Oli doing? Whatever he wants? I love it. And I love him.

Bück dich

Don’t be mad at me, but I like the Woo-Machine part better than the actual song

Woo-w-woo, indeed

Oh, there’s Flake on the leash.

Are Flake’s legs even real?

Oli’s over there looking like he just climbed out of some radioactive waste and is going to be a comic book villain.

Okay, yes, simulated anal sex, but Till’s little wiggle to distribute the “semen” was adorable.

Aaaand Oli’s getting a drink. Gotta stay hydrated??

Engel (cut)

I absolutely love Engel. It’s one of my “let me listen to this on-repeat for ????” songs

Sad that it’s a bit chopped up :’(

Till directing the fire always entertains me.

YES SPARKLER DRUMSTICKS

I fucking LOVE how extra these boys are. Like, I know it’s because they know a lot of their fanbase doesn’t speak German and it’s for entertainment purposes. Honestly, I feel, as an American who only speaks English, the music can stand on its own. But the spectacle is still MUCH appreciated.

I’m not sure if that last bit made any sense, but we’re running with it.

I love Flake’s extended outtro. (Is that a word? And is it the right one? I’m running on fumes at this point.)

Rammstein

This song gives me so much nostalgia, but I honestly don’t remember the first time I heard it?? I just remember knowing it.

Watching Till stand there in that coat with his arms out makes mine HURT.

The way the coat lit up made me happy in a way I cannot explain.

Yes bb show it OFF

Those drums. Simple, but effective.

In my limited experience, I feel like this a song that Till is pretty hit-or-miss on live. I think this is a hit. But what do I know?

This is the first time I’ve ever noticed/paid attention to the harmonies on this song.

Aww, Paul and Richard are doing the riff thing again, I just love it.

OLI and the giant stomps. God, I love him. And I just realized he’s wearing short-shorts???

Also, not hating Paul’s hair?

Laichzeit

Loving Paul and Schneider’s head-banging.

Also, Till looks zoned out? Drunk?? Panicked???

🎵AUUUGENNNN🎵

This is usually one I skip over when I’m listening on my phone, but I’m super digging Flake’s contribution tonight.

Till ululating was not something I thought I would ever hear??

Yes, Flake, earning that spotlight.

This auditorium must reek of sweat and fuel at this point.

But mostly sweat.

Ssssssllllloooowwwww eeeeeennnnddd

Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen?

Ah, one of many songs where they chant their own name.

I’m trying REAL HARD not to say that Till can set my bed on fire whenever he wants.

I love this song, but the Doom noises just

Richard, I adore you, but I am not a fan of the bell-bottoms. I know it was a different time. But please.

Till’s ruffled hair is...lovely.

Is this the show they played before that elevator clip?

Aww, the sparklers. I don’t think it’s supposed to be as cute as I find it??

Paul is adorable.

Fuck yeeees, I love when the flamethrowers get brought out.

Especially when used so phallically. I see you, Till.

“We love you. Thank you.” I LOVE YOU TOO AND YOU’RE WELCOME.

Well, it happened. I have no regrets and if you made it this far, then I hope you have none either.

[molluskwritesfic]

Between Rivers: Chapter Seven

A Mandalorian can't show their face to anyone - with the exception of immediate family. Although they haven't known each other long, there's definitely something growing between them. But is it enough? When an ex-spy must look beneath the helmet to save Din Djarin's life, there's only one option that allows him to continue following his Creed. Marriage.

This story is also on Fanfiction.net and Ao3.

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Chapter Seven

Noa Enti was dead.

Finally. 

Redin Deedi might be dead. Might not. To tell the truth, she didn’t care much either way, so long as her bridge to him was as charred as the corpse she’d left in place of her own. 

She didn’t like killing off her characters; she’d lost five of them in the past six months. Her pool of identity options was dwindling, and she hated being without a cover. 

Soon, she would have to come up with some new ones. 

It wouldn’t be as easy as it once had been. 

For the moment, though, she was fine with being no one. Noa Enti was dead. Nenana Orze had never set foot on Dafin III. 

No One stalked through the darkened hall, guided by the blinking security lights. Her clever planning and well placed credits had seen the power cut, and the explosives she’d smuggled in under the guise of an engineer had done their job perfectly. The extra security uniform and helmet had been easy to steal, and the others were far too busy doing damage control to notice that their ranks had grown by one. Everything had gone exactly to plan. 

There was one problem, though. 

She was hurt. 

Human variables - something that couldn’t always be planned against. There had been precious few seconds between Deedi learning about the fake explosives strapped to her chest and the detonation of the real ones embedded in the drink trolley. In the chaos of those few seconds - where everyone was scrambling to get out of the room - one of the guards had panicked.

The blaster bolt had clipped her side - just below the ribs. Mercifully, it hadn’t hit anything important, but it still hurt like hell and would pose a real issue if she didn’t get the bleeding stopped soon. 

Also, it was slowing her way down.

But other than that, everything was fine. She was struggling to keep moving, but good at faking it. The cover wasn’t elaborate enough for her liking, but the black tinted visor covering the upper half of her face and requisition blaster she carried were working well enough. 

Well… almost well enough.

She’d actually made it out of the building and was moving through the alleyways created by the auxiliary buildings surrounding the main tower - Deedi’s own little self-sufficient town within the city; the wealthy businesses and housing that the rest of the planet couldn’t afford. 

Smoke choked the air, reducing the usually well-lit streets into a greasy haze. The place was abandoned, the people all having fled the shadow of the burning building or hiding away in safe rooms built into the basements for situations like this. A droid or two bumbled by, locking up the businesses and generally doing the things their owners weren’t willing to stay out to do, but they didn’t pay her any mind. 

Slowed by her injury, she was about a minute and a half behind schedule; Deedi’s men would be reorganizing by now. Her window for a clean exit was closing fast.

Sure enough, Nenana cursed herself when three guards - real guards - came jogging around the corner of a soot-caked Colo Claw Fish dinery and a jeweler’s. 

It was too late to hide. Even in the subpar conditions, they’d already seen her. 

“Hey, you! Stop right there!”

And they knew that there was something off about her. Great.

In her condition, she needed to avoid a shoot out if she could. 

Only one thing for it.

She lifted her head, squared her shoulders, and marched straight up to them. 

“Report!” She barked impatiently in her best Huttese accent, knowing that it was the first language of many of the soldiers hired from Dafin III. She turned her helmeted face from one to another, fixing them each with an imposing glare. 

The trio wavered. She jumped on their confusion. 

“What’s the status of Sector Three? Has that section been secured yet?”

The one in the middle - the highest ranking, according to the button on his lapel - squared his shoulders. “No, ma’am. Squadrons Two and Four are converging on Sector Seven. Looters have broken through the outer barriers.”

Ah, excellent. She’d hoped something like that would happen. Although Deedi controlled the major crime gangs, his shift to higher caliber goods had left the lower niches up for grabs. The smaller underground gangs would be moving in to see what they could get. 

A great cover for her, should the resolution to her current problem require the corpses of the three guards.

She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Get on the comm and divert Squad Four to Sector Three. Those cargo entrances are wide open.”

He immediately moved to do as she said, but hesitated when one of his companions, a green twi’lek man, spoke up. “With all due respect, ma’am, why not call in the order yourself?”

Shit. 

“You don’t get to fucking talk to me that way!” She snarled, hoping a threat from a supposed-superior would blot out any doubts he had running through his head. “Do as you’re told, or I’ll have you strung up and shot.”

“Ma’am, you’re bleeding,” the third guard, a human female, pointed out. “There hasn’t been any shooting in this Sector yet.”

Fuck.

“That’s right,” the first man who she’d almost fooled finally caught on. He stepped forward menacingly, his hand going to the blaster at his hip. She held her ground. “Unless you’ve been through Sector Seven already, eh?”

This was exactly why she hated not having an elaborate cover. She would have created one in advance, but she’d already made one for when she’d had to pose as an engineer, and she hated creating more than one new person per mission. A single anomaly in a database would be overlooked, but two? 

“I was patrolling Sector Seven when the first looters pushed through,” she growled. “I was hit and fell back. I was on my way to the medical wing, but got fucking distracted when I saw that those exits are wide open. The main building should be on lockdown! Do you know how much the droids in the cargo bay are worth? A lot more than you’ll ever see, you can believe that. When the Commander finds out that…”

A flash of silver flickered around the corner of the jeweler’s, dim in the smoky light. Nenana was cut off by the flash and whine of three blaster bolts. 

The guards slumped to the ground. Dead. The Mandalorian loomed behind them, silent as a ghost with a rucksack bag slung over his shoulder, blaster still half-raised. 

Unexpected, sure, but she couldn’t say she was disappointed to see him.

Nenana let her posture slump, tearing off her black helmet and clamping her hand to the wound on her side. Blood oozed between her fingers from where they pressed into the soaked fabric. 

“Just can't get enough of me, eh?”

The Mandalorian lifted one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I thought you might need help.”

“I had it under control,” she defended lightly, sliding back into her native accent now that she had no reason to do otherwise. And anyway, it felt like the right one to use with him.

His head tipped forward slightly. “Looked like it.”

A smile twitched on her lips at his dry humor. “It would’ve all been fine, but this…” She lifted her hand to show him her bloody palm. “...was slowing me down.”

“That looks bad.” He holstered his blaster and moved to her side, indicating her injury with his head. “You okay?”

Nenana shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Here.” Mando dug into the bag he carried, coming away with a thick gauze patch and peeling off the plastic covering the adhesive side.  “This is bacta-infused, but it’ll still need to be cleaned and bandaged properly.”

“Oh, bacta-infused,” she quipped goodnaturedly as she picked the sopping fabric away from the wound. “What did I do to earn such quality care?”

He shrugged. “You overpaid.”

Nenana huffed a laugh and pulled up the hem of her uniform, exposing just enough of her blood-slicked hip for the Mandalorian to press the bandage firmly in place over the weeping gash. 

She gritted through the pain. “Thanks, Mando.”

Mando dipped his head in acknowledgement, smoothing down the edges of the bandage before tugging her shirt back down to cover it. 

Nenana sighed and straightened up. “We need to move. They’ll be focused on Sector Seven, but they won’t leave this section undefended for long.”

“Agreed.” Mando adjusted the bag on his shoulder, visor glinting in the half-light as he cast a quick glance about the empty street before fixing back on her. “My ship, or somewhere else?”

Nenana chuckled breathlessly, leading the way around the corner while Mando followed, blaster drawn and on guard. “I know I promised you a date, Mando, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He stiffened, having caught the suggestive undertone behind her words.

“That... that’s not what I...” he stuttered, making her grin. His helmet jerked to her, but when he saw her smirk he looked away sheepishly, shoulders rolling loose with acceptance. “Yeah, okay.”

She barked out a soft laugh. “Yours.”

Nenana wasn’t sure what to make of the Mandalorian. When he’d first appeared on her homestead, she’d been impressed with his steadfast composure in the face of the olfdo, and then again with his quiet good manners and helpfulness as he worked in her kitchen. 

She hadn’t been lying before when she said that she liked him; it was something that she’d readily admit. But now that he’d made it clear that he was interested in something more than a business arrangement and thoroughly charmed her with his gruff awkwardness… she wasn’t sure what to think.

And that uncertainty had nothing to do with him. It had been a long time since Nenana had even considered what he had insinuated… something more. For her entire adult life, she’d thought of relationships as an end to a means; getting close enough to the right person to overhear the right sentence or to plant the right suggestion in the right ear. 

That, she knew how to do. But doing it for real - because she meant it; because she wanted to…

Nenana wasn’t sure she could leave her old mentality behind enough to manage it.

But that was why she’d been doing all this, right? Putting her life on the line again even after she’d gotten out of the service. Tying up all her loose ends so she could leave her past behind; so that she could have an After. 

In the hull of the Mandalorian’s ship, deep in hyperspace, she watched as the warrior, clad in dirty, battered armor cleaned and dressed her wound. His hands were large and strong, worn by blasters and combat, and yet his touch was careful and feather-light. 

Yes, she liked him. 

She knew he liked her.

But what came next? She couldn’t even imagine what the next step could possibly be. Sure, she’d gone through the motions before, but was struggling to work out how to apply them to the man before her. 

They couldn’t exactly go out to dinner.

How did you go on a date with a Mandalorian? Hell, how did someone go on a date with her?

She was at a complete loss. 

He probably didn’t have a clue, either.

Maybe it didn’t matter that they didn’t know.

As Nenana watched him work, his helmet bowed close to her shoulder as he focused on getting the bandage just right, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this is what the start of the After she’d been wanting looked like. 

Whether it was or wasn’t, it was worth the effort of finding out.

~0~0~0~ .

[emeraldbabygirl]

ATEEZ - Answer I’ve already stated why this song made me cry when I reviewed it over the summer. To attempt to put it shortly, I feel a sense of almost relief? It makes me feel proud of the boys in general and the songs feels like overcoming an obstacle and coming out stronger and just feeling overwhelmed by joy and happiness? And the part at the end really makes me just burst into tears it feels uplifting and beautiful.

MCND - Beautiful this song give me this nostalgia feeling, it sounds similar to a pop song I first heard in middle school (Down by Jay Sean). I started listening to pop in middle school and middle school is hell for everyone along with high school but there’s certain memories I have of middle school that weren’t too bad. I had a lot of friends, we filled up an entire table in the cafeteria. It was also in middle school that I sort of confessed to both my crushes. Middle school was different and new to me and ya’know middle school but this song reminds me of those times. Also about the song itself it gives me this feeling of longing and want like longing to fall in love and just it’s very strong and that really gets to me. (Upon looking up the lyrics it’s seems more like a song for the fans rather than a love song but that’s just the feeling it gives me and the way I interpret it)

Secret Number - Got That Boom recently this song has been making me feel things. Just the chorus is so upbeat and it feel like I can relax and just dance my heart out and just be happy and I don’t know if these girls will become an Itzy situation but there’s definitely something about the song that gives me kind of a similar feeling. I feel happy

CIX - Cinema ok so I never thought CIX would have this effect on me and up until recent songs didn’t give me these feelings and make me cry unless the song itself was sad. The way it’s been lately the songs I listen to can really sit with me and make me feel emotional even if the song is happy and upbeat. The way Cinema is, I’ve never used this phrasing before with anything, but the way I cried while just listening to the bridge and chorus in Cinema, that song is truly my safe place. Like my friend said “it feels like a hug” it does. That chorus gives me a feeling of nostalgia but in a way that makes it feel okay and it’s not a feeling that’s upsets me it’s literally a hug, it’s like a warm hug it feels like, like when I listen to it the way the members make their voices sound it’s relaxing and calming. It’s like whenever I hear the song, even if I’m watching a performance of it I feel calm, I feel okay. Like every bone in my body is at ease, every worry is melting away and I’m almost just floating on a cloud. I don’t exactly know how to put these feelings and emotions into words but I cannot praise Cinema enough.

OneWe & OneUs - Last Song this song is very upbeat and makes me feel joy and it doesn’t make me feel safe persay but it’s comforting. It’s another song that gives me a sense of longing. It’s like seeing an old friend again and reconnecting, like the ending credits to a really wholesome and wonderful movie about friendship and love amoung these friends that never stops growing. Just seeing all the clips in the mv of Oneus and Onewe together having fun and enjoying each other’s company, it’s almost like an end of summer recap having all these fun adventures and fun memories that you never want to forget and you will always cherish those memories and you want to keep those friends with you forever. And seeing them perform the song together on stage, the choreo has the same vibe it’s just a really feel good and wholesome song. (Also thinking about it now there also seems to be this sadness, like, ok in short sometimes I get really upset when I think about how I’m not little anymore. More on that later but this song feels like you’re just trying to be in the moment and preserve your youth, you don’t want to grow up, you don’t want things to change you want your friends to be with you always and you just want to live in this memory that you’ve captured foever and never grow up. That emotion is really strong here as well.)

Loona - Star a lot of people said this song gave them nostalgic feels and it’s crazy how that happened, it did for me too, as soon as I heard the chorus it hit me like a truck. I really don’t have the words to describe this song really other than that weird nostalgic feeling but it was weird how a lot of us had that feeling. The mv is beautiful and it’s crazy how I had memorized the chorus in the Korean version within a few days of watching them perform it. I really don’t know what to say about this song other than how amazing it is really. It kinda takes you back to a certain time in your life but I don’t know what that time it. Someone had said that they were listening to it while their mum was a asleep and the mum dreamed she was back in her hometown and she could hear that song play in the streets, it almost seems as if that song has time traveling powers or some power truly beyond humans lmao. She’s really something

Dreamcatcher - Odd Eye this song is hella but the bridge and the hard rock in the chorus sent me into fight or flight for the first time. I got another nostalgia feeling but with an image which never happens to me but basically picture it raining hard and you have extreme feelings of sadness and dread and you just want to almost scream?

Ghost9 - Thinking of Dawn another fight or flight song, it’s really weird tho but specifically Prince’s line in the bridge or chorus gave me a panic attack the first time I heard it, there’s something about the way the song and his voice sounds that like upsets me? And makes me want to cry. (Almost like this impending doom feeling. Similar vibes actually to that cursed Artificial Intelligence movie that I fucking loathe so goddamn much)

Twice - Cry for Me gurl this song gives me nostalgia like an early 2000’s but maybe late 90’s pop song and wow, it’s just so damn good I had to put it here

Sunmi - Pporoppipiiram - this song is another one that kinda plays with my emotions, I’ve described it as running away in the night with a secret lover, I’ve talked about wanting to just have these crazy night time shenanigans with a lover or friend and feeling free, it’s a song that I can see a sunrise in my head, the opening sounds and smells like a sunrise during the summer, possibly on the beach seeing the sun’s rays lighting up the ocean, the soft pink and orange glow, what Sunmi perfectly portrays in that mv is exactly what goes on in my mind whenever I listen to that song and she’s a certified bop™️ and that song is just so lovely but she’s got some feeling to it

2Z - Not Without You - motherfuckin 2Z came out with this song after Hyungwoong left and I was still upset about him leaving but I still wanted to support 2Z cause I wasn’t about to give up on them like that and the way this song was carried was gorgeous. I clearly cried, the way the song and the members voices make you feel comforted and kind of at peace with the world. It’s an uplifting song and the member’s sound wonderfully and Zunon’s voice was actually what brought me to tears, his singing is so gentle and truly beautiful and he fits right in with 2Z and when I realized that and I realized that 2Z can do all these things with their voices I just couldn’t help but cry. This song is like a huge sigh of relief but also tears of happiness

2Z - Stand nothing really specific about this song just the mv made me fucking cry at like 5 in the am. There was a big sad feeling tho

Yooa - Bon Voyage I never expected Yooa to get a solo but I was so blown away for her solo. It’s not a song that is a bop or really upbeat but it’s a gorgeous piece and with the way it sounds and the set and her outfits. It’s really the whole fantasy theme. It takes you away to a make believe world where you are free and you can just get away and escape. I don’t really know how to describe it but the scene where she’s on like rocks and she’s just spinning and it’s got that cool sound to the song, that scene describes the feeling perfectly

Pentagon - Daisy this fucking song. First off fuck you Pentagon for making me feel emotions yet making Yuto and Hongseok go tits up. Just seeing them all on the floor looking defeated or at a loss, it’s a painful feeling. It’s a song that makes me feel bad and towards the end I felt this feeling of fight or flight like, I wanted to stop watching it because I felt this inner panic for some reason like I had to get away. And then when they all sing together that really did me in, made me tear up and it’s a beautiful song but not in a beautiful way it’s painfully beautiful and the boys did so well in portraying all the feeling through their voices and just the different scenes in the mv

BlackPink - Lovesick Girls this song I call my self proclaimed anthem, I heard it for the first some time and it wasn’t until I watched them perform it for the first time that I teared up. At the time this happened I was really sad and I kept “slipping” so I felt very touch starved and clingy and I wanted just love and affection from anyone. I was feeling really lonely and the feeling was stronger than it’s ever been it I felt like crying all the time I was just so upset that I was lonely and I really wanted love and affection and this song was like my therapy for that I guess? I didn’t feel so alone. There’s a strong emotional bond I have with this, the desire and the need to fall in love and to just have attention from that one special person. I know the song is kind of about just feeling like you’re not cut out for falling in love and you know every relationship ends but there’s still that need, that desire to fall in love and be in love with another person, and with me I always say I don’t want to be in a relationship, I hate men, love is disgusting, but there’s thing strong desire and need inside me to be loved and to fall in love and sometimes, like when this song came out, you just get so upset that it feels like your heart is like in pain, like you hurt on the inside. That whole “hurts your heart” shit

Itzy - Wannabe I’m actually not going to explain why this song makes me cry I’m not ready to give the whole story yet and I probably won’t be. So in short, I heard this song when I was at quite a low point in my life I suppose, problems at work were just causing me to truly feel like shit and this song really hit me and actually the Wannabe era is what made me stan Itzy those girls are so precious to me and I hold them so close to my heart they are little miracles honestly and that song just really sits with me

I highly recommend all these songs they are so good and they have such beautiful and great mvs to go with them, some even cinematic masterpieces also this finna be my playlist for my funeral honestly. She doubles as the ‘play this at my funeral’ playlist

[britonell]

Hello @clearwillow. Do you know how difficult it was to keep my mouth shut about being your @inusecretsanta​!?

Anywho, don’t skip the fanfic below!

Hermit’s Haven

In which one dog leads to a hermit failing to be a hermit…

...this is not my biography >.>

The dog appeared out of nowhere.

Inuyasha stared at the unexpected visitor. Against the backdrop of the untouched snow, the Akita stood out like a sore thumb.

The dog certainly didn’t belong to anyone in the village—since he was the sole inhabitant of said village. His closest ‘neighbor’ was an agricultural school on the other side of the mountain, and they weren’t the type to let a dog wander off their property.

Inuyasha watched the Akita sniff the icy bridge and then raise his head, ears perked up and beady eyes examining the half-demon, before throwing all caution to the wind and trotting up to him.

That was how the solitary half-demon ended up with a dog in his house. A dog that was currently taking up Inuyasha’s favorite spot beside the kotatsu, paws up in the air, not a care in the world.

For Inuyasha, this was odd. He wasn’t one to raise pets. He didn’t even own fish (which was why there was an empty koi pond in his backyard). He was an honest-to-goodness hermit.

Not that he had always been like this. After his father’s funeral, Izayoi and Inuyasha had been left instructions on when and how to sell some land in Hokkaido. Then the economic bubble burst happened and the land in the north ended up being their refuge.

Izayoi hadn’t been hurting for money or anything, no, she had plenty from her own inheritance. Inuyasha didn’t like to think about it much; throw in some economic woes and suddenly every city folk in Tokyo was ornery, so much so the half-breed child running around their apartment complex was now an eyesore.

The village was different. They had always been self-sufficient in their isolated community. Besides, as descendants of the Ainu people, they had their own history of being marginalized. He and Izayoi had been informed rather bluntly that they’d be welcomed as long as they didn’t get in anyone’s way—and if Inuyasha could quickly learn to ‘chase those pesky bears away’ that would be super helpful.

It all worked, for a while anyway. 

The damn dog startled awake and stared at Inuyasha, who snorted. Nothing woke the dog up except his own loud snoring.

Right. What to do with the dog. He had to be someone’s pet. Had he been abandoned? The agricultural school regularly dealt with people throwing their trash and animals on their land, but in this village? With all this snow, no one would come this far to leave an unwanted pet.

So the dog somehow wandered all the way out here. Wonderful.

Maybe the dog was chipped. He could ask Kaede at the school. The villagers had trusted her, and she did attend the funerals whenever she could. Wait, she was a veterinary instructor for only the first half of the school year. She wouldn’t be back in Hokkaido for months.

And he wasn’t going to risk visiting another vet, since…

“Guess you’re staying for a few days,” Inuyasha grumbled. 

The dog’s response was a great, big yawn.

A few days did pass. Then a few weeks. Then a few months.

They built something of a routine. Inuyasha would go out to forage and hunt, and the dog would patiently wait for him in the village. He took to calling the dog Hachi because...because he damn well felt like it, shut up. He even thought about buying some dog food in that resort town, but Hachi seemed to enjoy the game meat. That was fine. Hopefully.

It all worked, for a while anyway.

“Hachi?” Inuyasha called. Where was that damn dog? Hachi always welcomed him at the bridge next to his house. That used to bother him, since half the bridge hadn’t been refurbished to narrow the gaps between the railings, but with the ice gone he all but expected to see Hachi at the bridge, wagging his bushy tail with his stupid tongue out.

“Hachi! Hachi!” Inuyasha wasn’t panicking. He was being thorough, that’s why he was slamming the sliding doors open and entering his old neighbors’ homes. He would personally apologize to their graves later.

He found Hachi in the fifth house. Aiko used to own a Shiba Inu that she babied like her own grandchild. He cursed himself for forgetting the doggie door disguised as a tiny sliding door—he had helped her install it!

Hachi was in the bathroom, lying on his side, breathing labored and legs twitching.

There was no decision to make. Coherent thought didn’t even return until he was halfway to his destination, leaping from branch to branch with Hachi cradled in his arms.

The veterinary clinic was the first building next to the south entrance. Inuyasha shot past a group of shocked students, kicking up clouds of fallen Sakura petals, and burst into the clinic. 

Kaede wasn’t sitting at the front desk.

“Fuck.”

“Over here.”

A man with hair bound in a rat tail was holding out his hands. To his credit, his eyes were focused on Hachi and not on Inuyasha. The latter surrendered the barely conscious Akita and watched the man rush past some of the confused students and into one of the rooms.

Inuyasha stood in the lobby for a good long while, his mind too scrambled to decipher the whispers. But if he was capable of observation, he would understand; a dog-eared man had just shown up with a half-dead dog in a clinic that usually catered to farm animals. His fault for not wearing a hat.

There was a loud shush that sent a couple of people out of the lobby, then a small hand offered him a cup of water.

“Please, have a seat.”

He was ushered to an empty seat where he stayed until he was the only one in the lobby, staring at the cup until the man with the rat tail walked up to him with a clipboard.

“Yamaguchi Inuyasha, right?” The man smiled, wearing no mask of pretense. “My name is Miroku. Kaede-baa-san’s my great aunt. She told us about how you helped her prepare our clinic and barn for the typhoon. Don’t mind the students, they’re first-years. I’ll make sure to have a word with them.”

Inuyasha didn’t really understand what he was saying, half the words going in one dog ear and out the other, he just wanted to know—“How’s the dog?”

“He’s stable,” oh thank fuck, “but he needs to stay with us for a few days.” Oh fuck no.

“What happened to him?” He gripped the cup a tad too tightly.

“I was hoping you could fill in the details. Did you see him collapse?”

Somehow, talking about Hachi made it easier to get the words out. “No, I was out. He snuck into one of the houses in the village. The house had a goddamn doggie door, I fucking forgot about it, and he was in the bathroom and he was—fuck, that old woman was on a lot of drugs before she—oh fuck the medicine cabinet was open, you think he could’ve reached—fuck, he must’ve gotten into some of her meds. Fuck!”

Miroku scribbled away, unfazed by the cursing. “It’s alright, I understand. We’ll run a few more tests. What’s his name?”

And there it was. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he began, “His...I don’t really…”

Miroku politely waited.

“He’s not my dog. I was gonna ask Kaede to scan him for a chip. I can still pay for the treatments.”

“Kaede won’t be here for another month, and she’ll return only as an advisor. I took over her position beginning this school year. If you don’t mind, I can go ahead and check for a chip.”

“Sure. Yeah, that’s fine.” It wasn’t.

“In regards to payment—”

“I can pay.”

“—there’s an account set up under the name of Yamaguchi Izayoi for the farm produce department. Ordinarily, any unused funds are forfeited at the end of the year, but I noticed an exception was made...seven times. If you’d like, we can use this account for payment?”

Inuyasha had to take a minute or two to pick his jaw up off the floor. “That’s…fine.”

“Great. We’ll use the phone number attached to the account to contact you.”

Inuyasha left the clinic with a lot of questions and nobody to ask them. He immediately busied himself back in the village, tidying the houses he broke into, visiting and apologizing to the graves of his neighbors, raking the flower petals into piles, anything to keep his mind off of Hachi. He thought about visiting the clinic, but he didn’t want to risk exciting Hachi and setting back his recovery. 

Not to mention the heavy sense of guilt that prevented him from seeing Hachi again.

A week after Hachi’s collapse his phone rang.

“Yamaguchi-san?” It was the same voice that directed him to sit in the clinic.

“Uh. Yeah.” No one had ever called him with that honorific. Ever.

“We’re happy to report that your dog is awake and alert.” Thank fucking god. “We…” he did not like that pause, “...also scanned for a chip and managed to contact his owners.” Oh. “We told them what happened, and they’re driving from Sapporo to pick him up.” How the hell did Hachi make it to the village all the way from Sapporo? “They would like to personally thank you for finding and taking—”

“No,” Inuyasha growled, then remembered to add, “thanks. Just let them know I’m paying.” 

“I know this is a little unorthodox, but they’re good people, I think you’ll like—”

He hung up.

He would go back to his routine. He would forget about Hachi. He would go back to being alone.

~*~

Little did Inuyasha know, Hachi had opened the proverbial floodgates and there was no stopping the invasion.

“Hello?” Inuyasha answered slowly. No one called him save for the automated bank calls, and he was damn sure no bank would program a call for the middle of the night.

“Listen, just hear me out before you hang up,” a familiar feminine voice spoke, tones clipped this time. “Someone dumped a litter of newborn puppies by the front entrance.”

“Wow. Asshole,” he said without thinking.

“I know! But most of the staff just left for summer break, we’re in the middle of breaking ground for a new research building and no one has the space and time. I mean, I’d foster them but my roommate already has a cat and there’s a one pet rule in my building. The nearest shelters are miles away and completely full. Miroku thinks the best option is to volunteer you for the job.”

“Oh...that’s…” He really should refuse. He was being volun-told by a stranger. “When should I pick them up?” Dammit.

“That’s the thing. Miroku’s already packed and ready to go. He’s going to drive up to your village ASAP.”

“I...umm…”

“I’m so sorry. I think Kaede-baa-san talked about you so much, it’s hard for us not to trust you, you know?”

“That’s...wait, did you say Kaede-baa—”

She hung up.

Fuck, she did that on purpose.

Less than an hour later, a pickup truck parked in front of the bridge. Inuyasha watched from his door, a strange mixture of anticipation and alarm twisting his stomach.

Miroku stepped out of the driver’s side and from the passenger’s side...Kikyo?

No, no, that’s not possible. Kaede’s granddaughter stopped dropping by with Kaede after he adamantly refused to move out of the village. He had been smitten, sure, but it was a teenage crush and this was his land, his, and she wanted a normal life, which most certainly meant not living in seclusion. Last he heard, she was studying to be a lawyer in Kyoto.

Miroku said something to the woman and she responded by smacking him upside the head. Nope, definitely not Kikyo.

“Thanks for doing this,” Miroku said once Inuyasha met them at the end of the bridge. He held up a box and inside there were five squirming black and white puppies. 

Inuyasha clamped his mouth shut. He was still upset at being volunteered against his will, yes he was.

Miroku held the box out, only to turn and hand it to the woman beside him. “You sure you got this?”

“As if I would’ve agreed to this if I wasn’t,” the woman said with the same clipped tones. Guess she was the woman on the phone. “C’mon, we need to get inside before the rain starts.”

Miroku shrugged, smiling all the same. “Alright, I’ll get the supplies from the back. Inuyasha, help me carry those in, and then I’ll be on my way.”

It was only after he dropped the last of the supplies in his living room and watched the pickup drive away in the rain did he notice one crucial detail. “Are you staying?”

The woman looked up from his favorite spot beside the kotatsu, a puppy in each hand. Inuyasha was pretty sure she was trying to look more innocent than she was. “It’s not like you know how to raise puppies. Name’s Kagome, by the way. Miroku’s my cousin, and I’m volunteering at the clinic this year. Could you get the formula? It’s time to feed the puppies.”

Well fuck.

There were five puppies and a human woman in his house. A proper hermit would kick them out and leave them out in the rain. 

He went to fetch the supplies. 

He was a terrible hermit.

“Newborn puppies need to be fed every two hours. At least.”

Inuyasha did not know this. He now knew this.

The half-demon could manage a solid week without sleep, but Kagome insisted she be awake to supervise the feeding so she readied an infuriatingly loud alarm clock and boy did he want to smash it into pieces. Then the puppies would whine and he was too distracted to stay angry.

So busy were they Inuyasha didn’t even realize they had made no proper sleeping arrangements until well after dawn. Then the puppies would whine and he was too distracted to ask Kagome.

On the third night, he returned from the bath to find Kagome sleeping in the living room sans alarm clock, presumably packed away, never to be seen again. The realization that she trusted him to feed the puppies hit him hard. It wasn’t a foreign feeling, the villagers had trusted him, but that had been years ago and the nostalgia…hurt. To top it all off, she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his house. 

The vulnerability in her unguarded expression went straight to his gut. He pondered what that meant, but then the puppies squirming around her whined and he was too distracted to ponder further.

Between the feedings, Kagome would divulge a few things about herself: She lived on a shrine in Tokyo (oh god a city girl), she took some time off after high school to work at the shrine and think about what she wanted to do with her life (now that was unusual for a Tokyo girl), she came to Hokkaido at Kaede’s suggestion (what an impulsive girl), and she could tell he was weirded out by all this from looking at his expression (uh...no, no he wasn’t).

After the seventh day, she slyly slid up to him with cell phone in hand. “You know, there’s someone who really wanted to thank you.”

“Huh?” he replied, still wiping a puppy’s paw.

She shoved the phone in his face before he could protest and there he was, wagging his bushy tail with his stupid tongue out.

“Thank you for finding our Hachi!” A little boy with a front tooth missing waved. “Grandpa and I missed him lots!”

“Thank you for keeping him safe all this time. Please drop by so we can thank you in person,” an elderly man said while bowing, a wrinkly hand holding onto a small cane.

“Yeah, I’m gonna give you my treasure! It’s a snake skin!” The little boy waved one last time before the recording stopped.

Inuyasha tried to say something, he really did. Yet the image of the elderly man with the cane shakily bowing stayed in his mind. He was too, too, too much like his late neighbors.

And holy shit the dog was named Hachi all along! Seems like he wasn’t the only uncreative pet namer in Japan.

Kagome’s warm, gentle hand pulled him out of his stupor. “C’mon, it’s feeding time.”

Of course, the puppies. Get the formula, use the dropper, get the paper towels, and repeat. This was a distraction, this was good. He just needed to think about the puppies. Formula, dropper, paper, repeat. Maybe close his eyes for a bit.

He fell asleep.

He, the damn half-demon, fell asleep.

Worse, he woke up with puppies pulling on his hair and a camera flash going off.

“Look, don’t we look adorable?” she said and flipped the camera phone to show him the photo. There he was, looking up at the camera half-awake with his hair splayed out on the tatami. Kagome was also looking up in the photo, opposite him and upside down, giving the camera a deceptively demure smile, her black hair similarly splayed out and over his silver hair. All over their contrasting hair, the black and white puppies were sitting or lying down. “I’m going to send this to my mom, if that’s okay with you.”

He groaned and threw an arm over his face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed the rest. Besides, this was a picture perfect moment!” 

She was trying to kill him.

As he suspected, this was the first of many, many ‘picture perfect’ moments. Sometimes, he would have a lap full of puppies, with no way of escaping, only to hear “Cheese!” and the telltale flick of the shutter. Other times, he would be busy in the kitchen preparing the formula and out of the corner of his eye he would see her leaning on the doorframe, watching with that small little smile and her trusty Mr. Phone.

Worse, she got into the habit of wandering into the village when it was her turn to take a break and then come back with all sorts of questions.

“There’s a koi pond out back, why aren’t there any koi fish? What do you mean it’s unfinished?”

“Is that a guesthouse? That’s your shed!? It’s huge!”

“I saw a bunch of flowerpots, you should grow some flowers. Do ajisai grow around here? I loved seeing them whenever I walked home in the rain.”

“I was all the way out in the woods and I still had signal! You need to get a cell phone, you can’t rely on a landline forever! ...what do you mean there are BEARS?”

“My mom called and she said that photo of us was adorably perfect, can I post it online? I’m taking that grunt as a ‘Yes.’”

“What’s with all bank flyers on the front doors? Does the bank really own all the vacant houses?”

They built something of a routine. Luckily, this time, Inuyasha didn’t forget that she was a temporary resident.

Two weeks later, Miroku returned with the pickup truck. “Hope you two had a doggin’ good time!”

Kagome rolled her eyes as she hauled the nearly empty boxes into the back of the pickup. “Spare us, dear cousin. Sango-chan better be back today.”

“She and Shippo will be back by 3. We should have enough people until vaccination time, then we can work on finding foster homes. Speaking of the puppies, they grew fast!” Miroku said, and Inuyasha regrettably let the box of puppies go. “Thanks for all your help, my good man!”

“Yeah.” Inuyasha fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other. He never got used to saying goodbye.

“See you around, Inuyasha!” Kagome waved, one leg already in the truck. She held a bank flyer in her other hand, probably to show off to her city friends.

He watched the truck do a U-turn and disappear from sight.

He doubted they would see each other again.

~*~

He was wrong.

“There was a fire at the shelter.”

His power of comprehension always needed a few seconds to catch up whenever she called, which was getting frequent these days. “A fire?”

“The animal shelter. There was an electrical fire.”

Leave it to Kagome to drop a bombshell on him. “Holy fuck,” he cursed. “Are the puppies—did anyone—”

“The puppies are still at school. The volunteers got all the dogs out but some of them are being treated for smoke inhalation. We’re trying to help find shelters and foster homes but it’s a mess right now. You don’t mind if Miroku—”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he answered, unintentionally cutting her off. “Use my account to buy whatever you need.”

Miroku didn’t bring puppies this time. Inuyasha helped lead the Beagle mix, the Lab mix, and the Shiba Inu into the house. Miroku held out some papers for Inuyasha to sign, he assumed for the shelter to keep track of where their dogs went, and set about preparing their bowls and beds.

He quickly learned that the Beagle mix, Makura, was an old and heavy lap dog, and if Inuyasha sat down on the tatami, Makura would slowly but surely make his way from wherever he was in the house to rest on his favorite lap. The Lab mix, Kuriko, had a knack for sneaking into the kitchen and stealing his cookware. Why the cookware, he had no idea. The Shiba Inu, Pen-Pen, goddamn Pen-Pen, followed him. Everywhere.

Over the next few days, Miroku brought another Shiba Inu, a Chow Chow much to Inuyasha’s surprise, and a tiny little Chihuahua that wouldn’t stop shivering even on a warm autumn afternoon. The giant pile of dog food was starting to take over the living room, but he couldn’t move the kotatsu while Kuriko was sleeping on Inuyasha’s favorite spot beside the furniture.

One curious object hidden within the supplies had Inuyasha scratching his head. It was a large board with the words ‘HERMIT’S HAVEN’ etched into the wood. Stuck to it was a post-it note instructing him to hang it on the bridge for the visitors.

What visitors?

As usual, Kagome dropped the bombshell.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. It was Miroku’s idea, I didn’t think he’d actually make you sign anything without telling me first.” Well, she sounded apologetic.

Inuyasha stared into the distance, his sanity bidding him farewell. “My house’s now a dog shelter?”

“It doesn’t have to be your house. You’re a co-owner in name. Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Kagome said, a nervous smile evident in her voice. “We’ll take care of everything else.”

Shockingly, she was right. More dogs were brought in, more dog houses were bought and built. Nothing changed. 

Except for the visitors.

They weren’t even locals. Tourists from overseas were making a day trip from the resort town to see his village. He had no idea how word got out. A young fox demon from the school dropped in one day and mentioned pictures and Kagome’s insta-something or other, but he didn’t really get it.

Inuyasha tried to make himself scarce whenever tourists showed up. ‘Tried’ being the operative word because goddamn Pen-Pen kept giving him away. The visitors would spot him in the tree, ask if he was from the pictures, he would grunt, and they would leave money and dog treats in a donation box—what the hell, who put that donation box there? 

“You’re a good man for taking care of all these dogs,” a blue-eyed man towering over everyone else spoke in perfect Japanese, offering his hand with not an ounce of hesitation. He might’ve mentioned he was from Australia. 

Inuyasha reluctantly reached for the hand, and was jerked forward into a bear hug. 

If anyone tried to kiss him on the cheek, he was diving into the stream.

~*~

“What?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be hired either! Crazy, right? But they were really short on staff and took Kaede’s recommendation seriously.”

“Uh, yeah, congrats.”

“Thank you, Inuyasha!”

He ignored the funny feeling that traveled down his spine. What was wrong with him, she only said his name! “But, err, after you said that, you said you and Miroku were moving into...”

“Weeeelllll,” there it was, that nervous smile in her voice, “you know how the bank is offering all the vacant houses for free?”

“I mean, free if you work and live here for years.”

“More than a decade, yup.”

“You’re going to...more than a decade…”

“Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, neighbor.”

He should be glad. Two people he could tolerate moving into his village. 

The trucks were here before he could blink. The plan was to assess for renovations before moving in.

He should be glad.

“Inuyasha?” Miroku called. He stood outside Hiro’s old house. It was Miroku’s house now.

“I...gotta take a walk. Watch the dogs.”

“Take your time.”

Inuyasha hadn’t visited the graves since the puppies.

The elderly villagers had been old-fashioned, but loneliness had made them more social, so much so that dinner had to always be a village feast. Izayoi took up remodeling and enlarging a number of houses, just because she had the time, money and encouraging neighbors. As soon as Inuyasha learned to hunt, they had no problems accepting wild game from a half-demon. Then Izayoi fell ill…

Inuyasha was self-sufficient. It was alright, he had told himself, over and over again. Reality, and age, eventually caught up. The villagers’ children and grandchildren had moved to cities like Sapporo long ago. A few of the villagers relented and joined the young in the cities, but most had refused to leave. A couple of funerals later, the village became nothing but vacant and abandoned houses, and one half-demon.

He could have finished all those renovations, built that rock garden for Masa, lay out that trail from the woods to the koi pond so everyone had access, but he hadn’t.

Now, someone else would. Someone who would never know that Hiro dreamed of having a western-style fireplace, someone who would never know just how much Yumi loved her sunflowers, someone who could never understand just how much this village meant to him—

“Inuyasha?”

He grunted, but didn’t turn around.

Kagome sat down beside him. “Are you mad?”

“Not mad,” he answered without emotion, just as he rehearsed it.

“It’s not a problem, is it? Us moving here, I mean.”

“Not a problem.�� Because it most certainly was not. “The bank gave it to ya. It’s all legal.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Kagome said quietly.

A long stretch of silence followed. Inuyasha knew he should say something, anything, and after nearly a year he thought it would be easier, but he had no words if the words weren’t about the dogs.

“Kaede-baa-san talked about you a lot,” Kagome said, mercifully. “She had a lot of friends here. And she’d always mention this one boy who'd help everyone with everything. It got hard for her, coming back here just to say goodbye to another friend. But she was most worried about the boy who refused to move out of the village.”

Kaede had asked him to move in with her. As kind as she was, he couldn’t bring himself to trust a city folk, not at the time. He would never ever admit it out loud, but hearing his apartment neighbors openly discuss if he fell under the ‘no pets rule’ had hurt.

“Kaede-baa-san is going to be at the school for a few days. You should drop by.”

“She worries too much.” 

“She likes you. I was a bit jealous for a while. You know, she kept your mom’s account at the school open just in case you wanted to use it. With the way she described you, though, I thought you’d be shy and scared of strangers. Imagine my surprise when you showed up with Hachi in your arms and leaves in your hair. Totally not what I expected.”

He tried to give a witty reply. Like how she surprised him too with her Oscar-worthy puppy dog eyes. Or how she had a bad habit of dropping bombshells, even now. Instead, all he managed was, “I should visit Hachi.”

Kagome beamed. “That’s a great idea.”

~*~

“I thought you were going back to Tokyo for Christmas.”

Kagome shrugged while peeling another tangerine. “I was too busy moving furniture and painting the walls. Totally forgot about buying the tickets.”

“Uh-huh.” Inuyasha was all too familiar with that tone. “But Miroku remembered, even though he was moving furniture and painting too.”

“I guess he’s just better at keeping track of time.”

“You’re weird for a city girl. Can’t keep track of time, wants to live in the middle of nowhere, what the hell?”

“I’m one of a kind. Now scooch over. Your trunk thighs are taking up space in the kotatsu.”

“Like I can, Makura’s on my lap and—dammit Pen-Pen, stop leaning on me!”

Kagome whistled. “Oh no, looks like I got competition. Better hide you away for bed time.”

Inuyasha muttered incoherently for a few seconds, his face turning seven different shades of red. “S-shut up.” Did she have to be so open about liking him?

But Kagome did like him. She especially liked him letting his guard down and falling asleep on the tatami with the dogs on top of him. She joined what she liked to call the ‘puppy pile’ and watched him nap, his chest slowly rising and falling despite the weight of Pen-Pen’s head.

The picture of her lying opposite Inuyasha with the black and white puppies had garnered a lot of attention. But Kagome definitely preferred lying next to him. 

Her eyelids grew heavy. Time for her to rest as well.

Flick, went the shutter. 

Kagome snickered. Send the picture to mom, and then rest.

~*~

AN: Puppy pile! 

This one shot got away from me. It was about a stray puppy bringing Inuyasha and Kagome together, and suddenly...this.

Haven’t had a fic get this out of control in a while.

[megalony]

Teacher’s pet- Part 3

This is the next part of my dad! Ben Hardy series, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback it is much appreciated. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Summary: Gwilym sets Ben up on a date with (Y/n) who teaches at the school Ben’s kids go to. But Ben is hesitant in the relationship, desperate not to make the same mistakes and needing to put his kids first.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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"Alright buddy, I'll see you later." Leaning down Ben kissed James' head, ruffling his hair to make him smile before the seven-year-old turned and trotted over to the front door. A smile on his face since he could go out with his mum who had finally come over to take him out for the day.

Heading over to the door, Ben leaned against it and watched the pair of them leave before he closed the door, turning around to look at his other two boys who were staring at him with very different expressions. Whenever Ellie came over to collect James, Finn never ended up asking about his own mother, whether it was because he simply didn't care or he had some sort of instinct not to want to be with his mum, Ben wasn't sure. He only knew that Finn was happy with Ben alone and that was how Ben wanted it to be.

Carter, however, wasn't so happy. He still remembered Jamie, he remembered her being around until he was five and then the memories seemed to grow fainter until they stopped completely. He asked about her from time to time, asking Ben why his mum didn't come for him but it was more out of jealousy than curiosity. He was jealous that James got to go out with his mum when he himself didn't.

"Where's he gone?" Carter asked, turning to follow Ben into the kitchen as did Finn who was always Ben's little shadow. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself if he wasn't following Ben around or being cuddled in Ben's arms.

"Out with his mum for the day, bud." Ben flicked the kettle on to make himself a drink but when he leaned against the counter and turned to look at the boys, he didn't like the expression on Carter's face. The eldest had been a bit out of sorts today, he didn't know what to do and when he was like that it made him anxious and irritable.

"Where's my mum?"

A sigh passed through Ben's lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and calm himself down. This conversation never ended well and Ben had gone through this far too many times for his own liking. Gwilym was so much better at talking about this stuff with Carter, he could explain things better and say them in a way that wouldn't annoy Carter so much. Gwilym was one of the best teachers Ben knew because he was so patient and understanding and he was great with the kids with special needs. Ben himself was great with Carter but there were just times he didn't know what to do.

"Carter, we've been through this before, you don't see her anymore, I don't know where she is buddy." Ben leaned his back against the counter which he was gripping harder and harder each second that ticked by with no response.

He couldn't say anything else because he didn't know where Jamie was, what she was doing, where she was working, Ben knew nothing about her. She hadn't texted him in months now, she could have another kid for all Ben knew but truthfully he didn't care. She had washed her hands of Carter, if she said she couldn't cope and just visited him on occasion like Ellie did with James then Ben would understand and happier but she didn't so Ben decided to wash his hands of her too.

"Why not? Why won't she come see me?" Carter's brows furrowed and his lips pouted as he folded his arms over his chest as if it was Ben's fault, like he was keeping Jamie from him when it wasn't Ben's choice.

"I don't know Carter, I have no idea where she is or what she's doing anymore, buddy I'm sorry but that's just how it is. You've got me, nanna, grandad and uncle Gwil, you don't need her." Ben could hardly tell Carter that she won't come and see him because she didn't want to be around him anymore. He couldn't say that his own mother didn't want anything to do with him and she couldn't cope with him because it wasn't Carter's fault. He couldn't help the way his temper flared or how his mood's changed, Jamie was his mother she should learn to help him like Ben does instead of walking away.

"That's not fair! Why can James see his mum but I can't? It's not fair!" The moment Carter stomped his foot against the floor Ben noticed Finn shudder, his light sea-green eyes darted to look at Ben with uncertainty, not knowing what was going on.

"Finn go upstairs please, I'll be there in a minute." Ben watched his youngest hop off the chair he was sitting at next to the table, hugging his toy to his chest as he scurried out of the room to be out of the way because Ben just knew Carter was going to have some sort of tantrum. "When was the last time you saw your mum?" Ben rose his brows as he crossed his arms over his chest to match Carter's stance, locking eyes with him as he shook his head, waiting for an answer he knew Carter didn't know.

He couldn't remember the last time he saw his mum, he didn't know what she looked like anymore, he didn't remember her voice, he didn't know when he last talked to her in person or on the phone. He didn't even know her name and it hurt Ben that Carter was upset about someone who didn't care about him anymore. Ben wished Carter could be satisfied that she wasn't around anymore but he knew it was hard to come to terms with the fact that she was alive somewhere but wasn't with him.

Sometimes Ben wondered if it would have been easier to tell Carter she passed away, then he wouldn't think he had been abandoned. But he knew in the long run it was easier this way, he didn't want to lie to him and then have Carter find out in the future that he had lied.

"See, you don't know her Carter, for the last five years she hasn't been around okay? I don't know why she doesn't want to talk to us but it doesn't matter because we don't need her." That was the only way Ben could phrase it but it would never be enough. Carter always got angry about his mother at some point and it always made Ben feel angry too.

"I want to see her! It's not fair why can James have a mum but I can't? I want my mum!"

Ben could feel tears prickling in his eyes when Carter reached out and slammed his hand down on the kitchen table as if he demanded to see her then she would suddenly appear in front of him. He started to shake from both anger and pain before he forcefully kicked one of the kitchen chairs causing it to screech against the floor making shivers run down Ben's spine.

Breathing through gritted teeth, Ben moved so he was standing in front of Carter and grabbed his sides, pulling him away from the table but his body stiffened when Carter started to cry, lashing his hands out at Ben wherever he could. He wasn't intentionally trying to hurt Ben, he was trying to let out the anger he was feeling but that meant lashing out and right now he was hitting Ben to do that.

"I want my mum-"

"Well you can't have her!" Ben rose his voice but his tone deepened as did his eyes until they looked like voids Carter didn't want to get lost in. The ten-year-old started to cry and continued to bash his fists against Ben even when Ben hit his arms away and took his face in his hands to get him to look at him properly.

Sobs left Carter's lips as he snapped his eyes closed but it did nothing to stop his tears of rage from leaving his sore eyes. He dragged his short nails down Ben's arm to try and get him to let go but Ben kept hold his face and shook his head a little until he relented and opened his eyes. Repeats of 'it's not fair' left his lips in broken cries as he felt cheated, all the other kids at school had a mum that they saw or even a mum that was dead which was better than one who didn't want to see you. Why was he so different?

"I know it isn't fair Carter, she left me too you know! She doesn't want me anymore so she left and she clearly doesn't want to talk to me and for some reason, she doesn't want to talk to you. I don't know why she doesn't want to see you, maybe she's not well or upset or maybe she's gone away somewhere, I don't fucking know! You can beg me for her all you want but I can't give her to you because she's gone, okay, gone."

Ben breathed harshly as he felt himself shaking when Carter stopped lashing out so he could take in what Ben had just said. He seemed to mull over what he had been told and for a split second, Ben thought he was going to nod or say sorry or at least calm down, but then the sobs started again.

His foot bashed into Ben's kneecap but it hurt him a lot more than it hurt Ben but that didn't stop him from trying to punch Ben, managing to clip him on the jaw before he turned to run away to his room where he would undoubtedly scream the house down out of frustration and pain. He didn't get very far before Ben grabbed hold of him, tightly holding both his wrists in one hand which he used to pull him closer.

"Don't you dare start punching me or I'll punch you back." Ben spat before he moved so he was sitting down on the cold floor of the kitchen. He roughly spun Carter around and pulled him until he haphazardly fell down onto the floor with Ben.

Ben wrapped one arm tightly around Carter's middle securing his back to his chest before he wrapped his other arm around Carter's neck, applying not nearly enough pressure to stop his breathing but enough to stop him from fighting and trying to escape. This was how Ben normally had to restrain Carter so he didn't lash out and hurt his brothers or anyone else, it was a routine they were going through more and more lately and it was one that Ben hated. He hated sitting down and restraining his own son until he was calm enough to be trusted not to hit anyone. But it was the only method that worked when talking didn't.

Clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth started to grate and grind together, Ben moved his arm that was wrapped around Carter's waist so he could slap his side before reaching up to grab Carter's chin when he bit down on Ben's other arm.

"That's enough! You dare start trying to hurt me and I'll pin you to the fucking floor." Ben turned Carter's head so their eyes locked, his very stern message getting through to the ten-year-old when he clamped his lips shut to imply that he wouldn't do that again. Ben often had to restrain people at work when they got vicious, he knew what to do so he didn't hurt them and he had to do this a lot with Carter but being pinned down was something Ben tried hard not to do because they both hated it.

He was used to Carter trying to hurt him but it didn't happen often because Ben wouldn't let him get away with it, he either got hit back or he got pinned down or some sort of punishment. Ben had to show him that he couldn't carry on trying to hurt him or anyone else or Carter would continue to do it.

"Now you listen to me. Finn doesn't see his mum either, he doesn't know her at all just like you, and I know that isn't nice and I know it isn't fair but it isn't my fault. You can ask for her all you want but she isn't coming. You have me, you got that? I'm the one that's here with you right now, I'm the one who's always there when you throw a tantrum or when you hurt yourself or when you're sad. I love every bone in your body and I'm all you've got. Am I enough?"

Ben leaned his chin down so that he could press his lips to the top of Carter's head, holding him closer when a whine passed through Carter's lips. He hated when Ben asked if he was enough because it made him feel sad and guilty, it made him feel like he was telling Ben that he didn't want him but that wasn't what he was saying. Ben was more than enough and he always would be, Carter just wanted to have a mum too.

Carter didn't hold the ability to talk anymore so he simply nodded his head as much as he could manage with Ben's arm being in the way. He dug his hands into Ben's arm but not to try and hurt him, instead to try and hold him as close and as tightly as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you okay?"

"Hm?" Confusion sparked in Ben's tired eyes as he tilted his head up so he was looking over at (Y/n) who was sat down to his left. His mind seemed to come back to reality after realising he had zoned out for a moment but when his eyes followed her gaze, a sigh passed through his lips.

Pushing back, Ben slouched in the rather comfy leather seat in the quiet cafe round the corner from (Y/n)'s place. His fingers danced around the crystal white coffee cup in front of him that held the strong scent of freshly made coffee and just a dash of milk. He leaned his head back against the seat, letting his head drop to the left so he was able to look at (Y/n) who still had a look of worry in her eyes.

"I'm fine, Carter had a meltdown yesterday, it's nothing."

Ben's words didn't do very much to make (Y/n) feel at ease as she slowly scooted over so she was sitting closer to him. Without thinking, she reached out and ran her fingers delicately over the scratch marks on Ben's exposed arms and the bite mark on his left arm. She knew that Ben had told her he could get bruises or scratches or the occasional broken nose from work if the prisoners got angry or rowdy but so far she hadn't seen a mark on him from work. Nor had she seen any marks that were from Carter.

It was clear from how both Ben and Gwilym spoke about Carter that he had anger issues, but it didn't cross (Y/n)'s mind that the young boy would get physical with Ben. She had seen the way Carter looked at Ben, even if he was mad with him he still had adoration and respect in his eyes for Ben and he clearly loved him. Hurting Ben wasn't something (Y/n) thought Carter would have done or been able to do.

Deciding not to push the subject any further in fear of upsetting or provoking him, (Y/n) hummed in response as she continued to run her fingers over the marks. The bite mark wasn't bleeding or deep at all it barely scratched the surface and only one or two of the scratches had drawn blood but they were still there and still eye-catching.

A smile tugged at Ben's lips when (Y/n) leaned her head on his shoulder causing small shivers to run up and down his spine. He rested his cheek on her head as he continued to stare at his coffee that was half-empty.

"Are you busy next Saturday?" (Y/n) kept her head resting on Ben's shoulder as she asked the question she had been meaning to ask since they arrived. A wave of content washed over her as she smiled, watching Ben's finger start to tap on his mug as his head started to move back and forth as he counted the days to add up his shifts. Days seemed to become irrelevant to Ben since he worked different days every week, he just seemed to know he was working this day and that day but the days got lost.

"Don't think so, I'm not at work anyway, why?" The weekends only seemed relevant to Ben because the boys weren't at school. He didn't have to work out his rotas and get his mum to pick them up when he was at work or rush from work to collect them from school or take James to football after school on a Wednesday. Weekends weren't busy unless he was working.

"I thought we could go out somewhere, dinner or something?" (Y/n) slowly linked her arm around Ben's before leaning over and grabbing her drink with her free hand, finally lifting her head from his shoulder to take a sip of her tea.

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked up at Ben as he seemed to be debating something or trying to work something out in his head. His finger started to tap against the mug again but it was more from anxiety than having to think or count in his head. (Y/n) was beginning to work out Ben's habits and what made him tick or his anxiety spike, but she learnt that the boys were what really made his anxiety kick in.

"Yeah, I'll just have to see if mum can have the boys." Ben ran his hand over his jaw, nodding his head as he thought that it should be fine.

"Why don't you bring the boys along?" The response was so instant and so casual that it caught Ben off guard for a few seconds. His eyes widened and scanned over (Y/n)'s expression to see if she was joking or if she looked like she instantly regretted what she'd just proposed but she didn't. She looked calm and her expression seemed to wonder why Ben hadn't already thought of this.

Ben opened his mouth to speak but no words seemed to escape because he didn't know how to respond. No one had asked him something like that before, they'd never wanted the boys to tag along and the last person he went out with didn't want to get to know the boys at all.

"You... you wouldn't mind?" There was a lot of hesitation in Ben's voice and his eyes were wary because he knew how this normally played out. The boys tagged along and either they didn't get along with the girl or the girl paid no interest to the boys and the relationship ended right then and there. Ben didn't want to bring up the subject of meeting the boys yet because he didn't want to push things or make (Y/n) feel like she had to get involved with them right away.

"Of course I wouldn't, I want to get to know them since we're... together. As long as they'd be okay with it?"

(Y/n) could feel the nerves building up in her stomach and swelling in her lungs when she dared to lift her eyes to look at Ben the moment she spoke. They hadn't talked about them actually being together but they had gone on quite a few dates now and (Y/n) felt that they were basically together anyway even if they hadn't officially said it yet.

But her nervous smile widened when Ben bit down on his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide.

They were getting serious and that meant that (Y/n) would have to meet the boys sooner or later if this was going to continue. (Y/n) wanted to meet the boys, Ben told her about them and so did Gwilym and she had already talked to Carter on a few occasions already. If she and Ben were going to be together, she had to get to know the boys and there was nothing (Y/n) wanted more.

"They'd love to meet you... we'd have to be careful with Finn though, he doesn't do well with strangers. It took Gwil over a month to get Finn to talk to him and be at ease around him." Ben moved (Y/n)'s arm that was wrapped around his own so he could intertwine their fingers as he tried to calm down his erratic heart.

He knew James would be excited to meet (Y/n) and Carter would be okay, especially since (Y/n) worked at the school and he knew briefly of her. Finn was the only exception because he had anxiety that was worse than Ben's, he wouldn't take to anyone for a while. He wouldn't speak and he would hardly move but once he got to know (Y/n) and felt more comfortable around her there would be no problem, Ben knew it.

"Baby steps." (Y/n) stated with a smile. She was a teacher, she knew how to approach children who were anxious or scared or held back and she knew it took time, that wasn't a problem. They had all the time in the world.

"Baby steps." Ben agreed quietly before he leaned over and closed the distance between them.

He moved his free hand to cradle her jaw, brushing his thumb over her jawline causing (Y/n) to smile nervously into the kiss. For the first time in a while, Ben didn't feel anxious when the thought of the boys came to mind, he wasn't fearful of them meeting (Y/n) or how it would turn out when he would normally be going into overdrive already. Somehow, he just knew this was going to go the way he wanted it to.

(Y/n) was the one.

[theinbetweendoc]

Editing - Final Touches

Once I had added B-Roll to the sequence in the form of pictures and graphics, I showed the film to some of my peers to gain feedback. It was useful to get a fresh set of eyes on the documentary, as by this point I had been working pretty intensely on it! The general feedback was that despite having already added B-Roll to try and break it up, there was still a lot of dialogue sequences of Ros and that this caused them to lose focus. This is something that I too had picked up on, particularly regarding the middle section of the documentary, where Ros is talking about the brokerage. There was also feedback that despite Esther being a protagonist of the documentary, she did not in fact feature that heavily, and that maybe this was a problem regarding issues of representation. Again, I had been wary of this when I sent it to them and so had already begun thinking about ways to remedy it.

Regarding the Ros sequence, I took out some of the sections in which I felt the content didn't apply, or had been covered elsewhere. I aim to try and weave these clips back in to a longer cut of the doc, because they contained information that I would still like to include, but simply couldn't afford to in this case.

The issue I faced with Esther's interview was that it was made at a point in which I still believed that the doc's focus would be mental health. This, coupled with the fact that Esther responded better to more closed questions, meant that there wasn't that much to work off regarding the process of transitions. Also, Esther doesn't know about the details of her transition and so couldn't answer questions on such. However, what Esther could do was talk about the STEPs program, the next stage of her social care journey. In the STEPs program Esther will stay at Fairfield Farm College but her education will focus more on bridging the gap between college and supported living. At the time of the interview Esther had only just found out about this placement, and was very excited about it. Despite finding change stressful, this was just the right level of change to still be a 'new thing', and therefore be exciting. This provided a good ending clip of Esther talking positively about STEPs, ending the documentary on a hopeful note. It also meant that the doc was bookended by Esther, reasserting her as the central focus and one of the protagonists.

Despite saying in my presentation that I would like to make subtitles available, at this current point in time it is difficult to do on Premiere. I was able to subtitle the sequences of Esther, but to manually transcribe the whole thing would have been very time consuming. Fortunately, however, Adobe recently announced an Auto-Transcribe feature that is being trialled as a Beta on some versions of Premiere Pro 2021, with hopes to roll it out wider in the coming months. When this becomes available I will make it possible to have captions on The Inbetween, both the pilot and any future longer versions, as this issue of accessibility is very important to me. In the mean time, I will upload the video to YouTube where accurate auto-transcribed captions can be generated. On YouTube you can select whether to watch the video with or without captions, increasing the accessibility of viewing options.

After finalising the sequence, I had to go in and fine tune the colour. Both interviews were shot in different lighting conditions, and the rooms were very different colour tones. This caused issues with regulating the White Balance. The room in which Esther was interviewed was very warm toned, thus producing a picture that had a lot of reds in it. She was also positioned in front of a window and so the exposure was irregular, as in order to get her correctly exposed the background had to be overexposed. Ros, on the other hand, was in a room that was filled with blue and orange tones, and so these were strong in the picture. Also I interviewed Ros as the sun was setting, and so over the course of the hour-long interview the lighting quality decreased a lot and the shot got a lot darker. I did not have access to artificial lighting like soft-boxes or two-head lighting kits, and so had to rely on the lighting available in the room, which was also very warm.

To correct these issues I used the Lumetri plug-in on Adobe Premiere Pro. I do not have much experience with colour correction so this was a pretty steep learning curve, but with the help of some YouTube tutorials I was able to fix some of the major faults. I used the Vectroscope YUV view to work on the skin tones, as this allowed me to see the exact balance of colours, and how the alterations I was making was affecting the hue of the skin. I used the comparison view option to make sure there was continuity across the shots. The parts of Ros' interview that were shot as the sun was at its lowest were the hardest to correct exposure-wise. I attempted to correct it as best I could using an adjustment layer with an ellipse mask over her face, as this was where it was most noticeable. The tricky part was knowing where to stop, as by this point I was so immersed in the editing process and knew the clips so well that every time I watched it over I noticed a new thing that needed to be tweaked! Overall though I am happy with how the corrections turned out. Examples of some side-by-sides are below:

Esther - non-graded (left) vs graded (right)

Ros - non-graded (left) vs graded (right)

As can be seen, the grading made quite a big difference on the exposure and temperature of the shots, giving them an improved quality.

I decided to add in a music track because there were times when a graphic would be playing, without a backing audio track, and the silence felt quite jarring. I wanted music that was quite soft and upbeat, but not too noticeable. I searched several royalty free music sites and came across a track - Crowander's Who Would Have Thought - that fit perfectly. This track was free to use as long as it was not for commercial purposes (which it isn't) and that proper credit was given. I named Crowander in the credits, and provided a link to the track, which was also a condition of its use.

Again because of the difference in conditions between the rooms in which the interviews occurred, the audio levels were also affected. The room of Esther's interview was large and tall, and covered in soft furnishings, and so there was little background "fuzz", whereas the room I interviewed Ros in was a lot smaller and shorter, and had fewer soft furnishings to absorb sound, resulting in a lot of background "fuzz" and also disparities in volume levels. Using audio effects and the gain control I was able to normalise these levels against one another, and still allow the backing music to be heard. This was quite a fiddly and time consuming process but it paid off in the end.

To avoid these issues with lighting and audio in the future I'm definitely going to make sure that I have adequate lighting and sound equipment available before I start shooting!