#i was like oh yeah ill just write down a quick list of songs and a short comment on what scene they were for teehee <3 oh well

[fruitybashir]

bit of a different kind of bonus content but as mentioned in the last chapter, here's some of the songs i have in my holidate playlist:

Careless Whisper - George Michael very obviously for That Scene, but also bc the song in general just fucking slaps and their voices would go sooooo well together on it, and there's also another reason it's in here that i will maybe mention later

Andromeda - Weyes Blood this one is a bit vague but to me it fits kris in this story so well, especially these bits: - running from my own life now - left the heart from the depths its fallen through - love is calling, its time to let it through, find a love that will make you, i dare you try - im ready to try - let me in if i break, and be quiet if i shatter - love is calling, its time to give to you, something you can hold on to basically how he shut himself off after his breakup and isolated himself, reluctant to go out or do anything than the bare basics, he was just acting on autopilot for a while. and then he meets bojan and the guys and gets involved in their friend group etc and opens up more and more and more. and with bojan (even though he refuses to acknowledge it) he opens up his heart again both in a platonic way but also obviously more than that also romantically

One Of Your Girls - Troye Sivan tbh this one is just bc they're doing the f+ thing and i think its a little funny lol theres no deeper meaning its just that the vibe is fitting to write to "give me a call if you ever get lonely" oh they do that a LOT

June - Florence + the Machine this one's for the kris/jan dynamic, to ME at least lol. "you were broken hearted and the world was too / and i was beginning to lose my grip [...] and i would come to you / to watch the television screen in your hotel room / im always down to hide with you" they have a very tight and intimate bond, they are each others safe space, no matter what happens; they will seek the other out first and comfort each other in ways they wouldn't get from anyone else. they can show up at each others place unannounced and the other will cancel all plans and they can talk it out or just sit in silence, whatever the situation calls for. no questions asked.

Just A Little Bit - Kids of 88 Afterglow - Scandroid both with no extra meaning but they're mainly what i was playing when i was imagining the new years party and what they might've danced to

[monsterenergysimp]

Permanence

corpse husband x fem!reader 

summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you 

warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing

word count: 1.9k

notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)

main blog @itsmysleepover

read part 2 here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.

“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.

On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.

“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.

“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”

Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.  

“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.

“I told you guys I was ruthless!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.

C: hey :)

You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?

Y: Hii! This is sudden

C: was i bothering you?

    shit sorry!

Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn

C: how has your day been

    i dont usually do stuff like this

Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored

C: what were you doing that was so terrible

Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(

C: im sure youll find something to do

You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.

Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo

C: what?

    NO!

You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.

Y: [image] it came out nice!

C: thats  super cool actually

    i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and       youre super talented

Y: Thank you!

For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.

Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch

    [link]

C: ill be watching ;)

What’s that supposed to mean?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.

C: wanna talk?

You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.

Y: Yeah id love to talk

Here goes nothing.

Y: Wanna facetime or something?

     No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call

     I think facetime is just my default lol

You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.

Still no message.

Why am I so fucking stupid?  

Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.

C: sure lets facetime

    xxx-xxx-xxxx

You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.

“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.

“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”

“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”

“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”

“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”

“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”

“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”

“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”

“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.

“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”

He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).

“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”

[fruitcoops]

Hi!! So I was listening to paper rings by Taylor Swift today and the lyric 'I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings' made me think of coops and o'knutzy. Could you write a prompt about this?! <3

This song is so perfect for Coops and it’s the best way to start of the long-awaited wedding series! Yay! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Combined with:

1. Domestic Coops

2. Remus making fun of Sirius’ initials

3. Sirius trying to make Remus moan while he’s on the phone with his folks

4. From @colored-rain: Taking Hattie to the vet

TW for mild smutty content, taking a pet to the vet, and the inherent stress of wedding planning

I: Six Weeks Before the Wedding

“Where are we even going to do this?” Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair.

Remus shook his head silently, pressing his forehead into the wooden edge of the table. “What if we elope?”

“Celeste would skin us both.”

“True. Oh, god, my dad would cry if we did that.” Remus slid down in his seat and stared up with sad eyes. “Can’t we just be married already?”

“I could get tinfoil from the kitchen and just…” Sirius mimed wrapping it around his ring finger and Remus snorted.

“Baby, I would marry you with paper rings, but I think we want them to last.”

“You like shiny things!”

“I do, that doesn’t mean I want tinfoil on my hand for the rest of my life,” Remus laughed, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Alright, let’s go through our list again. We agreed on small, right?”

“Just the team and families. We still want it to be outside?”

“Yep.” Remus checked off two boxes on the piece of paper they had been grappling with for the past four days. “Rings have already been ordered?”

“I’m doing that this afternoon. What kind of cake do we want?”

“Uhhh…an edible one?” Remus shrugged. “I don’t have a huge preference. Chocolate is really good but all the ones from the store are spongy.”

“Wow, an edible cake, so original,” Sirius teased. “We can ask Celeste what she thinks.”

“Good plan.” He paused for a moment. “Where outside will we do it? We need an actual venue. I think people would be upset if we just had a wedding in a public park.”

“The media would be all over it, too.” Sirius scrunched his nose up in thought just as their timer went off and both sighed as they headed for the door. “It’s going to be hard to focus on practice when we know next to nothing about the wedding we’ve been planning for over six months.”

“We’re disasters.”

II: Four Weeks Before the Wedding

“We’re not putting that on the cards.”

“Why not?” Sirius frowned and looked down at the mock-up invitation. “It’s our initials. It’s cute.”

Remus blinked at him. “Sirius. Your initials.”

“Do you not want my initials on our joint wedding invitation?”

“I would love to have your initials on our joint wedding invitation, except for the part where it’s the same acronym as ‘son of a bitch’.”

Sirius paused, then groaned and put his hands over his face. “Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“You forgot your own initials?”

“I forgot the son of a bitch thing!”

“Okay, I clearly don’t tease you enough for that,” Remus snickered, wrapping an arm around his waist to kiss his cheek. “Alright, attempt number eight is a bust.”

III: Three Weeks Before the Wedding

Sirius ran his fingers gently through Remus’ hair, feeling him shift in the darkness. “What’s on your mind, mon amour?”

“Are we changing our last names?”

“Did we…not discuss that?” Sirius wracked his brain, but it was so exhausted from wedding topics that he came up empty.

“I don’t think so.” Remus scooted around so he was on his side, facing Sirius. “Both our names are super connected to our jobs. Plus, Lupin-Black might be a little long for jerseys.”

“I’d rather not go through the whole name-change process.” There was a beat of quiet. “Though I do like the sound of Sirius Lupin.”

Remus’ breath audibly caught and he leaned closer to Sirius, nuzzling against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

IV: Eighteen Days Before the Wedding

Remus’ back hit the mattress with a soft bounce that was quickly stilled by Sirius’ weight pressing him down by the hips, his mouth skimming along all the right places on Remus’ neck. “Yes,” he hissed as Sirius ground down, their bare chests bumping together. He dipped his hands beneath the waistband of Sirius’ sweats and he shivered, nipping the hinge of his jaw.

“Wait,” Sirius gasped, pulling back to straddle Remus’ waist.

“What? Is this a flamingo moment?” Remus panted, still buzzing with arousal.

“Did we invite your parents to the wedding?”

Remus stared at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I don’t think we did.”

“Sirius, you are literally about to—holy fuck, did we invite my parents?”

“I don’t know!”

Remus groaned and let his head fall back against the pillows before tapping Sirius’ hip and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dialed his mother’s number, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom, how’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s going fine out here. How’s wedding planning?” Hope asked. Remus could hear her smiling.

“That’s what I’m calling about, actually. Did you—” He bit his lip as Sirius’ fingertips trailed up his thigh. “Uh, did you get an invitation?”

Hope was silent for a moment, save for a few rustling sounds. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think so. Lyall! Honey, did Re send us a wedding invitation?” There was a low humming noise as his father responded. “He says we didn’t get one.”

Remus winced. “Sorry about that. I can text you the details, if you want.”

“Will you mail one as well? I want to put it in our memory box.”

Sirius’ hand slid further along Remus’ leg, growing closer to his inner thigh by the second and doing nothing to quell his frayed nerves. “Yeah—yeah, mom, we totally can.”

“Are you alright? You sound a bit out of breath.”

“Hattie was running around and being a little crazy.” Remus covered the speaker with his hand and turned to glare at Sirius, who grinned and kissed his cheekbone.

“Okay,” Hope sounded skeptical. “So you’re not getting sick or anything?”

“Nope. Healthy as a horse.” The last word came out a little breathless as Sirius licked a stripe up his neck and bit down on the junction to his shoulder, making Remus’ eyes flutter closed. He smacked Sirius’ hand halfheartedly and felt him grin.

“How’s Sirius doing?”

“Fine, he’s fine. We’re a little stressed with the wedding planning and everything, but things are good here.” Really good, he thought as the heel of Sirius’ hand pressed down just next to his dick. He swallowed down a moan and squeezed his eyes shut. “Alright, I’ll text the details to you this afternoon love you mom bye.”

“Love you t—”

A millisecond after the call ended, Remus slammed his phone into the nightstand and pushed Sirius into the sheets, bracketing his face with his elbows. “What the fuck was that?”

“I’m just keeping things interesting.” Sirius tugged his lower lip between his teeth and smirked, which really left Remus with only one option: kissing him senseless until he couldn’t even remember his own name.

V: Three Days Before the Wedding

Sirius’ leg bounced up and down nervously and he gripped Remus’ hand as they waited in the lobby of the vet’s office. “She’ll be okay.” His voice was noticeably higher than usual and he cleared his throat. “She’ll be fine. It’s just a cough.” A cough that’s been going on for four and a half days.

Remus hummed his agreement, though he hadn’t stopped twisting Hattie’s leash in his hands since they arrived. “Just a cough. Probably a cold, or—or something like that.”

The doors ahead opened and both of them stood as Hattie trotted out next to the vet tech, who looked rather amused. “What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked, scanning her for any signs of illness. “Is she alright?”

“She is a very talented actress,” the vet said, rubbing Hattie behind the ears. She whined pitifully and cuddled into Sirius’ side. “Have you two been busy lately?”

“We’re planning for our wedding.” Remus looked as confused as Sirius felt. “Why?”

“Because Miss Hattie here is one of the healthiest, snuggliest dogs I’ve ever seen.”

“But she was coughing.”

“She was faking.” The vet knelt next to her and petted down her back, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you, munchkin?”

“Hattie!” Sirius exclaimed, torn between relief and shock. “You little monster!”

Remus frowned and tapped her forehead lightly as he slid her leash on over her head. “We were so worried about you! Why would you do that?”

“She’s probably been sulking because you’re busy with wedding stuff,” the vet said with a smile. “Quite the drama queen you’ve got there.”

“Tell me about it,” Sirius huffed as he kissed her head. “Don’t ever do that again, young lady. You’re in big trouble when we get home.”

“Thank you for your help,” Remus said, shaking the vet’s hand. “We really appreciate it and we’re so sorry for wasting your time.”

“Are you kidding? She was the best part of my day,” he laughed. “All the other techs can’t stop talking about Hattie cuddles now. Have a good one, you three.”

+1: The Lions, the Media, and the Locker Room

Word spread like wildfire in media circles, and the rumor mill had never worked harder once news of the Black-Lupin wedding came out.

Naturally, the Lions decided to have a little fun with it.

“Pots! Pots, what can you tell us about Black and Lupin’s wedding?” Four different microphones were shoved into his personal space, but James put on his best confused face.

“What wedding?”

A wave of murmuring spread through the reporters. “So you weren’t invited to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin’s wedding?”

“There’s a wedding?”

Across the room, two other interviewers mobbed Thomas Walker in his stall. “Talker, do you know anything about Black and Lupin’s wedding?”

“Who?” he asked with a perfect act of innocence.

“Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t think I know them, sorry. Are they fans?”

“Talkie!” Remus tossed him a towel from the adjacent stall, and he caught it with a grin.

“Heads up, Loops!” Talker threw it right back and headed toward the ice baths with a wink to the cameras. “Good chat, guys.”

One of the interviewers muttered under their breath and hurried over to Pascal, who was still unlacing his skates. “Dumo, when is the wedding between Sirius Black and Remus Lupin?”

Dumo frowned. “Quoi?”

“The wedding. You were invited, yes?”

“Desole, je ne parle pas l’anglais,” he said regretfully. “C’est un…wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding between your teammates.”

“These words, I don’t know them.” His French accent was almost comically thick as he shook his head. “Desole.”

Out of view of the cameras, Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and reached over to high-five Pots.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

death march matt Murdock x reader

+++++++++

this one has been in the drafts for a bit and i finally finished it so i hope you guys enjoy. writing has been slow recently as i havent had much free time and am still trying to rewatch all the netflix marvel series. but i am still working on requests and stories that ive had started for about a month so hopefully the rest will be out soon, along with some frank castle stories now that ive reached the first season of the punisher

prompts: "You need sleep." "I get sleep" "getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep"

song: saints of the blood by black veil brides

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg

+++++++++

i sat back on my knees and groaned. matt and i were both covered in blood and he was still writhing around on the ground. but the men around us that were out made me a little proud of all that we'd done. it had been weeks of tracking them down, taking out one ninja at a time until we found were they were all hiding.

"i need a vacation."

he noted as he got to his knees and i laughed.

"you and me both D."

he laughed back as he stood, almost doubling over as he clutched his side. i was quick to stand then, helping him, steadying him.

"whoa, hold up there daredevil, i saw that last punch. broken ribs isn't gonna get you anywhere."

he inhaled sharply.

"and what do you suggest i do?"

i snorted.

"you know the answer to that already."

he shook his head as we limped towards the door together.

"yeah, i shouldn't have asked."

°°°°°°°°°

when we got back to the apartment i was quick to get him to the couch. every move earned a hiss from deep in his chest as i tried to get his jacket off. i figured his ribs were broke but i was more worried about the cuts and stab wounds.

"alright human x-ray, what's the damage?"

he sat quietly for a moment and listened. then he closed his eyes and sighed.

"what do you think?"

i touched his side lightly.

"oh yeah, they're definitely broken. but there's something else. what is it?"

he blinked slowly before wincing as he tried to resituate himself on the couch.

"the cut below my rib is almost deep enough for it to come out."

i made a gross face.

"so maybe this time we really should get you to a hospital."

"no."

he said quickly and i sent him a look.

"matt, if i don't there's a good chance you'll die."

"no hospital."

i bit my tongue as he laid back.

"fine, ill do the best i can but if you if you start fading on me im doing it. this job is bigger than me, and Claire for that matter."

his jaw tightened.

"what would we even tell them? you're not in any better shape."

his breathing was shaky and staggered. i looked to my knuckles on my right hand as i held the cloth to his open wound. at this point i couldn't tell what was my blood, what was his blood, or what was the blood from the men we'd fought in the back of that abandoned warehouse. and then i looked to my left hand, god it was so much worse. my first two fingers were for sure broken, my wrist not in any better shape, and i had a gash almost the length of the back my arm.

"ill think of something, but right now we need to focus on getting you out of this outfit and keeping you from bleeding out. i don't need the paramedics figuring out what we both do in our free time."

°°°°°°°°°

as i sat in the chair beside matt i tried my hardest not to fall asleep. the beep of his heart monitor was very lulling and the morphine  they had given me didn't help. it was a little amusing though to look at the two of us; we practically looked like mummies with how wrapped we were. my left hand was broken in eight places, my wrist in two. the cut on my arm was deep enough to need stitches near my elbow but nowhere else, thank god.

"y/n."

i heard him say quietly and i sat up abruptly, no longer tired.

"im here matt, its okay."

i said softly, taking his hand in mine.

"where are we?"

he asked and i let out a laugh.

"metro general."

he deadpanned.

"i thought i told you-"

"i know i know, but i was losing you. i kept checking your heartbeat but you were losing too much blood. and i couldn't live with myself if id let you die. not after all that hard work."

i said the last bit with a hint of amusement and luckily he smiled back.

"what did you tell them?"

i let out a nervous laugh.

"i told them we were walking home through a bad part of town and got jumped, pushed into a back alley by a couple guys, large and in masks. i told them that they all looked the same, same height, same clothes, and only one of them spoke; that he demanded we give him all that we had on us. i told them that you tried to be brave and push me out of the way and that they didn't like that; that they beat you up, attacked you, then attacked me and once they got me on the ground stomped on my hand and ran."

he nodded solemnly; rubbing his thumb over the back of my right hand. the bruises were prominent still, cuts deep to the bone that i hadn't let anyone see since we'd been here the last ten hours.

"that's one hell of a story."

"as far as they know it was one hell of a fight. but you're still my hero; stupid and stubborn, but still a hero."

he smiled, almost laughing but groaning in pain and rolling his head back against the pillows.

"hey, take it easy, you need to heal, You need sleep."

"I get sleep."

he said matter-of-factly and i sent him a look.

"matt, getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep."

he looked to the ceiling and swallowed hard.

"look, ill call foggy and Karen and tell them you were awake and they can visit later but for now you need all the rest you can get. you lost a lot of blood, and i know you, you'll want to get back out there as soon as possible. but for right now i think its okay to let the others handle the city for a bit. ill talk to Trish, see what she can do with Jessica's help. you know Danny would be willing to do something."

he shook his head.

"no, don't, its fine, I'm fine."

"Matthew, you have three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and you almost got sliced all the way through. I'm calling at least one of your super friends to take the mantle for a couple weeks. hells kitchen survived over a year without the mask, I'm sure it can survive a little longer. just until you're healed."

he sighed, closing his eyes again.

"i hate when you're right."

i smiled, squeezing his hand lightly.

"if that were true, you wouldn't have married me."

i stood up and kissed his forehead.

"Mrs. Murdock, the voice of reason."

he said softly and i leaned down and kissed him properly.

"keeping the love of my life alive one day at a time."

"thank you."

i studied him for a moment as i stood back up.

"get some sleep, ill be right here when you wake up."

[soundsof71]

for the album thing: born in the usa :)

I could write a book about any of Bruce’s records from Born To Run to Born In The USA. I did in fact write my grad school thesis using Nebraska as the hook: ”Vehicles of Grace: Automobile Imagery and Salvation in the works of Bruce Springsteen and Flannery O’Connor” LOL which is one million percent true. 

In fact, I bought Nebraska on my first day of class in grad school (a whole story by itself), and BITUSA came out as I was finishing my coursework two years later. It’s hard to overstate how hard this one hit, but my reaction was kind of complicated, so I’ll tell ya all about it.

the first song from this album I heard: “Dancing In The Dark”, which came out as a single before the album. Followed immediately by “Pink Cadillac”, its b-side. We played the SHIT out of that song in particular, far more than the A side, and were dumbfounded that it wasn’t on the album. 

do I own the album?: Obvs, but there’s a story. Of course. My girlfriend and I bought it on vinyl the day it came out in June (we weren’t married yet, but we’d merged our record collections the previous year LOL), then for my birthday in August, she bought me a CD player for like $800 (they were expensive as FUCK when they first came out -- and $800 was even more of a fuckton of money back in those days, especially for a couple of grad students), with one CD, Born In The USA. That one CD was more than reason enough to spend the dough on a player.

I still have that CD, along with the ticket for show where we saw Bruce on our honeymoon in England, at St. James Park in Newcastle, in June 1985. He’d just gotten married too (the first time), which is a whole ‘nother story too. Oh, and I still have the sweatshirt from that show! I'll post a picture of all this some time.

my favorite song: Wellll....here’s where it gets kinda complicated. Bruce had a notoriously hard time picking songs for the record. He’d recorded something like 50 songs for the album, and once he cut the list to 30 or so, he kept asking people he trusted to pick THEIR favorite running order. (Dave Marsh talked about this in his book Glory Days: Bruce Springsteen in the 1980s, and I haven’t heard it much discussed since then.) It’s hard to argue with the finished results, but you know what? I kinda do, still, all these years later. LOL 

My favorite song OF the album, no question, is “Shut Out The Light”. (Check my tag for this song to hear some more about it.) It was first released as the b-side to the 7 inch single of “Born In The USA” (remarkably, the third single from the record), and wouldn’t show up on CD until 1998 on the Tracks anthology. Tracks was 4 CDs in all (should probably have been 6 discs, and COULD have been 10), but I bought the whole thing for THIS.

My favorite song ON the album: “Downbound Train.”

my least favorite song: “Darlington County”. 

a song I didn’t like at first, but now do: “Dancing In The Dark”. I’m not alone in this. Miami Steve famously HATED the song at first, and only came to appreciate it after years of playing it live. I still remember never more eagerly anticipating an album in my life, and never being more upset by the advance single. I was devastated.

Here’s why. Born to Run came out when I was 15. “Gotta get out while we’re young!” The romance of escape, with the last two songs, still grandly romantic, hinting at its costs. 

Darkness came out when I was 17. Narrator: “They did not escape.” LOL Ghosts, bitterness, compulsion, cursed by God. His estranged wife’s eyes “filed with hate for just being born”, while “Tonight I’ll be on that hill ‘cause I can’t stop.” 

The closest thing to hope: a whispered “Tonight my baby and me are gonna ride to the sea / and wash these sins from our hands.” I was a senior in high school and the dream was already dead. Awesome. LOL

The River came out when I was 20. The only hope is domesticity. Too bad that it’s suffocating and you’ll fuck it up. LOL Want to wash the sins from your hands? Sorry, the river is dry. “Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true / Or is it something worse./ that sends me down to the river?” Yikes!

The shows for this album were astounding. The album was soooo much darker than it first appeared, and the catharsis in the performance was rewarding, sure, but almost unbearable. You were left broken and crawling by the end of the night. In a good way. LOL 

Nebraska came out when I was 22. Murder, mental illness, ghosts, more murder, compulsion, and as a treat, a little more murder. LOL 

The one song I couldn’t stand was “Reason To Believe”, because I didn’t believe there was one, and I didn’t believe he did either. But boy did I love the album as a whole. Like I said, my grad school thesis started here, because I had too much to say about Nebraska and the sweep of Bruce’s literary roots and spiritual impulses NOT to write about it. 

(Not shockingly in retrospect, and a blessing for us all that he went through with it and is still at it, but Bruce’s therapy started here too.)

So from 1975 to 1984, things got darker and darker and darker. It was beautiful. LOL And hey, this was MY LIFE we’re talking about, too! From 15 to 24, I was listening to Born To Run, Darkness, The River, and Nebraska practically on a loop, and the more hopeful stuff was becoming less and less resonant. 

Sure, there was Rosalita and Thunder Road and Badlands, plenty of dancing and pumping fists, but I was dwelling in darkness, and living for it. On my best days, I was wounded, not even dead LOL but I barely listened to Born to Run by the end of this span. It was mostly Darkness and Nebraska. 

I couldn’t wait to hear what was coming after the highest body count in recorded history on that album. LOL I knew it wouldn’t be acoustic again, but man, he was cutting closer and closer to the bone each time out. How much farther could he possibly go?

And it was....Dancing In The Dark? What the actual FUCK? Practically fucking disco or something? WHA....? I loved dance music, especially in the 80s, but I didn’t need it from Bruce. I had that from other people. Oh well, at least the b-side was cool, so maybe the album won’t bite. LOL BUT THEN PINK CADILLAC WASN’T ON THE ALBUM. FUCK.

The album didn't bite, of course, but it took a looooong time to get over this huge dual disappointment of a chirpy disco single by an artist I barely recognized, and whom I now felt I could no longer trust to manage his own creative mission.  

My wife wrapped her head around it first (as is usually the case LOL). She dug it as the closest Bruce had yet come to putting his actual self in a song. The narrator is a writer, anyway, unlike every other song he’d ever written about jobs he never held for a single second (an observation that would form the bedrock of Springsteen on Broadway 40 years later).  

Now, I totally dig it. If you’re naughty enough, I might even post my ukulele cover of Dancing In The Dark. LOL

a song I used to like, but now don’t: None. The songs I loved, which is most of ‘em honestly, I still do. Everything about this album has gotten better with time for me, and nothing about it has gotten less so.

my favorite lyric: 

From “Shut Out The Light”: Oh mama mama mama come quick I've got the shakes and I'm gonna be sick Throw your arms around me in the cold dark night Hey now mama don't shut out the light 

From “Downbound Train” The room was dark. Our bed was empty Then I heard that long whistle whine And I dropped to my knees, hung my head, and cried

Bruce was gonna try to give me a happier record, but I was having none of it. LOL 

For the record, “Downbound Train” is my wife’s favorite track on the record by FAR, at least partly because it sounds like a band version of a song that could have followed Nebraska. I prefer Shut Out The Light because I heard the story of my own mental illness in it for the first time, but yeah, Downbound Train is amazing.

I only saw it live once at the time (in Newcastle, June 4, ‘85), but it really comes to live onstage -- true for all of Bruce of course, but this album more than any other imo.

overall rating out of 10: Then: 8. Now: 9.2.  The shows were unbelievably good (we saw three shows in three different countries on that tour) and it sold a buttload, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that after the run of Darkness - The River - Nebraska, that this was a missed opportunity at best. 

Time and distance heals all LOL and I now love it. Not more than the four before it, but more than anything since. A masterpiece, by any standard.

[justfrozenthings]

Eternal Happiness

Paring: Anna/Kristoff

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,431

Notes: Just a little fic I wrote for @annaofthenorthernlights. Hope you enjoy this fluffy family fic I wrote!

Summary: Anna and Kristoff spend a nice day on the lake with their newborn daughter Amara as they reflect on the happy times of their life together.

Anna hummed a soft tune as she cradled her newborn baby Amara in her arms. “She has your nose. Thank goodness,” Kristoff chuckled as he sat beside his wife on their bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and happily looking down at the little bundle that they had created together. “And your hair,” Anna sighed dreamily, resting her head on his shoulder.

Kristoff rubbed small circles along her back. “You know. I used to think I never needed anybody, that it would just be me, Sven, and our boat. But then- well then I met you. And now here I am. I have a beautiful wife, a loyal dog, a great boat, and now a little girl that I can call my own.” Tears began to swell in his eyes as he thought about how lucky he had been. “I couldn’t be any happier than I am right now.”

Anna kissed his cheek, “Me either.” She rose to her knees and nestled herself in Kristoff’s lap, being careful not to disrupt little Amara from her slumber. “Tell you what. How about tomorrow we take the boat out for a nice little cruise on the lake. I figured we’ve been so busy as of late it would be nice to take a little break.” She looked down at the sleeping infant in her arms, “Plus. Amara hasn’t been on the boat yet and I think she’s old enough to go out as long as we’re careful.”

Kristoff beamed at this suggestion and kissed the soft ginger hair on his wife’s head. “I could not think of a better way to spend a day with the two girls I love most in the world.”

-----------

Anna placed Amara in her stroller and pulled the hood down so that the sun would not be beaming down on her. Anna dawned a huge white floppy sun hat with a cute little white sundress printed with sunflowers and brown sandals to match. She pulled down her sunglasses as she sat on the front porch, carefully rocking the stroller back and forth while she sipped on an ice-cold glass of lemonade. Kristoff was still in the kitchen packing up their lunches. As she waited, Anna closed her eyes and listened to the sweet chirps of the birds and the soothing music from the chimes that were being blown in the light breeze. She daydreamed about her life and all the opportunities that she had been blessed with. Growing up, she was often lonely. Her sister Elsa and her used to be very close as children, until one day she grew very ill and, in worry, their parents kept them apart so that Anna would not catch it as well. Though she knew her parents meant well by doing this, as they were told that the chances of Elsa surviving were slim, it still caused her to have just the tiniest amount of resentment towards them. However, that was all in the past now. Elsa had pulled through and Anna had fixed her relationship with her sister and now their bond was stronger than ever. Not only that but she had found happiness with Kristoff and now had a daughter made from their love. Kristoff always called himself the lucky one, but Anna thought that, if anyone was lucky, it was her.

When Kristoff came out with a reusable bag filled with their lunch he saw his wife looking ever so peaceful on the porch swing he had built. The sun cast a radiant glow upon her ivory freckled skin and her hair looked like wildfire. Gently setting the bag down he kneeled in front of her taking her hands in his. “Hey. Anna, ready to go?” Anna gave a small yawn and stretched her arms over her head. “Yep. Oh, did you make sure to pack the sunscreen?”

He gave a small nod. “Everything is all packed and ready.”

Together they strolled down the street of their neighborhood, holding hands and pushing the stroller as they laughed about the good times of the past. One story, in particular, made Anna laugh so hard, lemonade came out of her nose.

The story was about their first kiss and how awkward the both of them had made it. Both were too nervous to ask or give any sort of hint that they were ready to take their relationship to the next step. But, as Kristoff dropped her off on her front porch he decided that it was now or never. However, instead of forming one coherent sentence, it came out all scrambled and tongue-tied. At some point within the sentence Anna swore she could have heard him say “we me,” but he was rambling so fast that she couldn’t be sure.

When the little family had reached the marina they made sure to stop by and say hello to friends and neighbors. They had let those hold Amara who had already met the sweet baby and introduced her to those who hadn’t.

Eventually, after Kristoff had to nearly drag Anna to with him when she finished a conversation so that she would not go and start another one, they made their way down the wooden dock.

As Kristoff got the boat ready, Anna was busy strapping a lifevest and lathering sunscreen on Amara. However, when he snuck a quick glance, a deep rumble echoed in his stomach as he laughed at his wife and daughter who was now covered in streaks of white. Okay, so maybe she went a little crazy on the sunscreen, but can you blame her! Amara was still only a newborn and Anna, being the protective mama bear that she was, would do everything in her power to protect her. Even if that meant applying an excessive amount of sunscreen.

Once the boat was all set, and Anna had finally decided that Amara had enough sunscreen, Kristoff pulled out of the little port. Anna went to go sit beside him, placing Amara in her lap and resting her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and let out a delightful sigh as she felt the soft wind blow through her hair. “This is nice,” Anna said, giving a small smile. “We have both been so busy lately, that we hardly get to spend some nice quality time with one another.”

Kristoff wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Yeah. I miss you when I’m at work. It’s strange not having you there.” Only a year after the two had gotten married they opened up their own flower shop. Flowers were actually what had brought them together, and they both hated being apart from each other for long periods of time, so they thought why not start a business that had a connection to their eternal happiness. But ever since Anna had the baby and took on the job of being a stay-at-home mom, Kristoff missed getting to work with her every day. After cruising around the lake for a few minutes, they found a nice shaded enclosure to anchor down and eat their lunch.  They continued to ramble on about the happy memories they have made as they ate their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sipped on the sweet nectar of their ice-cold lemonade. Amara was still breastfeeding so Kristoff had packed the blanket Anna used to cover herself up with whenever she fed the small child. They finished up their meal with a nice chocolate cake with chocolate icing, Anna’s favorite, that Kristoff’s mother had made for them a few nights prior to help Anna get through the stress of taking care of a newborn baby.

The little family had spent the rest of the day basking in the summer sun and listening to Kristoff strum a silly song he and Sven had made many years ago. They felt sorry for leaving the sweet old dog behind, but he didn’t really care for he took his job as protector of the house, and Amara, very seriously.

As the sun began to set, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, the family had made their way back to the marina. When they had made it home and the couple had nestled down in their bed holding each other contently, they reflected on the joys the day had brought them. “Today was perfect,” Anna sighed as she nuzzled her husband’s neck. “Yeah,” Kristoff said as he placed a kiss on her head. “Just another day we can add to our list of eternal happiness and more to come.

End Notes: Sorry for any grammar mistakes. This is just a fluffy little family fic that I may or may not make into a series. I already have a mermaid fic that I am writing and a forbidden love fic I want to start so we'll see how this goes. I have no clue why I like putting all this work on me either. But hey, at least it's something I like doing.

                 Ao3

[2dmenenthusiast]

Let’s be sad together (Peter Parker x Depressed Reader)

A/N PLEASE READ!!: heeey so before we get into this, this story is told in the first person, which I know some people don’t like but I felt it was best for this particular fic because there is some self-hate in here and I didn’t want the reader to feel targetted and make them feel like shit? I hope that made sense. keep in mind this fic deals with themes of DEPRESSION, something I myself struggle with. So if you’re not comfortable with this, please don’t read. I’ve read plenty of x depressed! reader fics, and most of what I read doesn’t do the feelings justice or it romanticises depression. It’s usually like “oh youre depressed? Well i love you and boom youre fixed!” Yeah I hate shit like that lol. But I am certainly not trying to romanticise depression or mental illness by writing this. I wanted to make a fic people like me can relate to, the thoughts and feelings, etc. It was honestly super difficult, I wrote the first draft and completely scrapped it cuz I hated it. I really tried my best here, guys, and I hope you like it. And always remember that you’re not alone and things do eventually get better. It just takes time and a little help. Once again I tried to keep the reader as nuetral as possible so everyone can read! (I fucking suck at titles btw)

Plot: Peter notices something’s been wrong with you lately, and you prepare yourself for the inevitable break-up once he confronts you about it.

Words: 2,562

Warnings: Themes of depression and anxiety, self hate, angst

Loving Peter Parker was absolutely suffocating.

Sometimes I couldn’t decide if dating him was the worst or best decision I ever made, but I knew one thing for sure. He had me wrapped around his finger, and there was no leaving him even if I tried. Not that I wanted to. Peter is… well, he’s perfect. Sure, he’s dorky and can ramble about technical stuff that I can’t even begin to understand for hours on end, but if anything, those things only added to the list of reasons why he’s perfect. Oh, and he’s Spiderman. My boyfriend is Spiderman. In other words, nights were spent worrying about whether he’d make it home safely or not, and some were spent patching him up when he came knocking on my window after a particularly bad fight. He made me happy. Happier than I had ever been probably. So… why did I still feel this way?

At first, a part of me thought that being with Peter would… fix things, I guess. That maybe if I was in a relationship, it would cause all the rushing thoughts inside my head to go away. And at first, it did help. There were more nights that I could sleep peacefully, and there wasn’t a constant feeling of anxiousness sitting in my stomach. But of course, that relief never lasted long. I knew it wouldn’t, but a part of me hoped it would.

Overthinking had always been an issue. Every situation had a “what if,” and this was no different. Thoughts of Peter leaving me began to occupy my mind almost every second of every day, and now, rather than feeling relaxed in his presence, I felt a constant feeling of anxiety. Like my heart was stuck in my throat and I couldn’t breathe, an invisible weight crushing my chest. Sometimes I’d get so overwhelmed with my feelings that I’d have to leave the room and calm myself down so that I wouldn’t cry. And other days I’d completely close myself off from everyone, laying in my bed all day and feeling so upset and worthless.

This wasn’t Peter’s fault. No, he treated me like fucking royalty. This was due to my own dumb self and my own dumb emotions and my dumb fucking ways of overthinking shit I shouldn’t even be thinking about. But it’s always been like this, and no amount of listening to sad songs and telling myself everything was going to be okay was going to change that. I wasn’t immune to feeling insecure either. Especially when Peter hung out with his other friends, but I immediately told myself not to think about that stuff. I didn’t want to be that partner that gets jealous of their partner’s friends when I’m not getting every second of their attention. No, thinking that way felt toxic, and that was the last thing I wanted to be.

But sometimes, I couldn’t help those thoughts from sinking in. There were so many people out there. So many people that were funnier and better looking than me… So why did Peter settle for me? Why would he want to date someone with so much fucking baggage? Someone who could barely get out of bed in the morning while already wishing for the day to be over? Someone who thought so fucking little of themselves as a human being? There were times where I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror, because those were the days I really hated myself. Sometimes I feel like he fell out of love with me a long time ago and now he won’t leave me because he feels bad, which only made me feel worse for keeping him in a relationship he probably didn’t even want to be in. 

I couldn’t say anything to Peter about this. How could I? He would just try to fix everything and I didn’t need fixing. I just wanted him there to reassure me that he loved me as much as I loved him. That he wouldn’t leave me because of how mentally fucked I was. Even if he did tell me those things, I don’t know if I’d even believe him. My mind probably wouldn’t even let me. I imagined if I did try to tell him everything I was feeling, I probably wouldn’t be able to explain it in a way that he could understand. I was just so tired. Tired of waiting for the inevitable moment when Peter would break up with me, and I’d be left with an expected broken heart. I’ve even been preparing for the day it happens so that it doesn’t kill me when it hurts, just like I do with every situation. Rather than give my hopes up and be disappointed, I just assume the worst from the get-go. 

I don’t know how it hasn’t happened yet. How he hasn’t noticed the way I just shut down when the day gets hard. How I constantly look like I’m just in my own head, either when all of us are hanging out or when it’s just me and him. I want him to know. I want to tell him all the shit that’s running through my mind, but a part of me is terrified that I’ll just scare him away. So I just pretend it’s fine. Like I’m not ready to bust and rip open at the seams.

Today was another one of those days where I just felt like locking myself in my room and never coming out. However, the usual excuse of “I just don’t feel good,” didn’t work on Peter this time. He knew that there was something wrong. I could see it in the way he looked at me. I thought I had gotten away with it at first, laying in my bed and mindlessly scrolling on my phone, not even present in my head, just kind of there. But I knew I was screwed when I heard a knock on my window and opened my curtains just to see Peter sitting on the fire escape. I didn’t say anything as I opened the window, just watching as he stumbled into my room while pulling on the sleeves of my hoodie, something I often did when I felt that familiar anxiousness creeping in.

He made sure to shut the window after he was inside, and I immediately shrunk under his gaze when he turned to me, feeling too ashamed to meet his eyes.

“Hey, um…” 

He hesitated, and I watched the way he rubbed his palms against his jeans, almost as if he was feeling nervous. I could imagine how he was feeling, though. I was nervous too.

“I know this is kinda abrupt, um… but I just wanted to stop by and you know, make sure you’re feeling okay and all that. I was worried, so…”

Worried? He was worried about me? I blinked a few times, trying to rack my brain for a quick lie I could tell him, but that wasn’t what came out when I spoke.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, I just… I guess I’ve just been feeling kinda low today.”

I immediately wanted to swallow the words that left my mouth, not believing that I actually willingly let him know that I wasn’t really feeling okay.

“Oh?” He took a step forward, which immediately made me want to take a step back. “How come? Was today just not a good day?”

Peter was so unbelievably sweet and considerate, I almost wanted to cry right then and there. He always treated me so well… but he deserved someone better. Someone that wasn’t me.

“I-I guess? I don’t know, it’s just kinda hard to explain,” I muttered, reaching a hand up to rub the back of my neck that felt strangely warm.

“Do you wanna talk about it? I have plenty of time. I actually left the group to come see you, so I don’t mind listening.”

My eyes slightly widened as my gaze quickly met his, looking at him as if he was crazy. Hell, he just might’ve been if he stopped hanging out with his friends just to see me.

“You… Why would you do that?” I asked softly, my voice almost a whisper as I tried to keep it from trembling.

His brows furrowed and he tilted his head slightly, looking at me almost incredulously as he stepped closer.

“Do I need a reason? I wanted to see you.”

He said it so confidently, as if he was so positive that he rather be spending his time with me than his buddies. It kind of made me feel a bit guilty. He could be spending his time with his friends and having fun, but instead, he was here, and I was trying not to break down in front of him.

“But your friends… wouldn’t you rather hang out with them?” I asked, arms crossing over my chest as if I was protecting myself from something.

Peter just smiled. “I could chill with them any time I want. Why would I skip out on an opportunity to see my baby, hm?”

My hand quickly shot up to cover my mouth, and I could feel tears starting to push through.

“He wouldn’t say that if he knew,” I thought, and it immediately became harder to contain the tears when he closed the short distance between us and placed his hands on my shoulders, his expression clearly one of concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

I shook my head, sniffling as I reached up and wiped at my teary eyes.

“I’m fine, I just-”

You’re not. You’re really not fine, y/n. This is not fine.

My walls were quickly crumbling down as a tear slipped down my cheek, which caused more to follow, and I let out a choked sob as Peter placed a hand on the back of my head and gently pulled me into his chest, his other hand running over my back. He didn’t say anything, just let me cry to my heart’s content as I gripped onto the front of his shirt for dear life.

“I… I’m not okay, Peter. Nothing’s okay,” I mumbled into his chest, and he gently pushed me back as he carefully held my face in his hands, thumbs wiping at my tear stained cheeks.

“What’s not okay, y/n? C’mon, talk to me.”

“Everything!” I yelled, and I could tell he was surprised by my sudden outburst as I pulled myself away from his embrace.

“Everything is not okay, Peter. Fuck, I just…” I brought my arm up over my eyes as my bottom lip quivered, my eyes burning as more tears fell. “Everything’s just so hard and I’m so tired. And I’m making everything so complicated for myself, it’s not even anyone’s fault that I’m feeling like this. It’s mine.” I sniffled and wiped at my eyes again, but it did nothing to stop the endless tears that had spent too much time being held in. “A-And I don’t know what to do, Peter. I really don’t. I’m so fucking tired of hurting and I just want the thoughts and feelings to stop. Fuck sometimes I just wish I felt nothing!”

I looked up at Peter when he didn’t say anything, and found that he was just looking at me. There wasn’t any judgement or disgust in his eyes. At least, not from what I could tell. He looked… worried. Maybe even a little sad. Was he upset over what I said? Is he bummed out that he found out what I’m actually like? I let out a sigh and wiped my nose against my sleeve, suddenly finding my feet very interesting as I looked down. The silence was fucking deafening, and in that moment, I wanted to throw myself off the fire escape and into traffic below.

“How long have you felt like this?” Peter suddenly asked, his voice quiet as if he was trying to not startle me.

I hesitantly looked up at him, pulling at my sleeves again as I shrugged my shoulders.

“If you’re talking about all the depressing shit, ever since my early teens, I guess. But um… I’ve been having other thoughts recently. Ever since we got together, actually.”

I winced as soon as the words left my mouth. Would I regret this? Most definitely. Did Peter need to know? No, but he deserved to.

Peter frowned. “Really? Like… what kind of thoughts?”

I sighed and ran a hand down my face.

“Fuck, Peter, I just… You’re Peter Parker. You’re Spiderman! And I’m just-”

“Amazing, beautiful, the best partner I could ever ask for. Should I go on?” he asked with a small smirk, and I let out an amused huff as I placed a hand against his chest and lightly pushed him.

“I’m serious, Peter. I’m just… I’m fucked up, okay? Nothing about me is normal, hell the thoughts I have certainly aren’t. And I doubt you wanna be with someone who has so much shit going on with them-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Peter interrupted, waving his hands in front of my face. “Who said anything about me not wanting to be with you?”

I scoffed. “I mean, it’s a no brainer, Peter. You saw me just now. I mean, sometimes I break down over the dumbest shit-”

“It’s not dumb if it makes you upset,” he said, his tone a bit harsh.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever really validated my feelings like that before.

“I-”

“No, y/n. Why would you think any of this would be a problem for me? I mean… No, nevermind, I understand why you would think that. You can’t help it right? But listen to me.” He placed his hands on my arms, making sure I was focusing on him. “No matter how messed up you think you are… you’ll always be my favorite person, y/n. You don’t have to hide how you feel, you don’t need to be scared. If you’re having a bad day, tell me, and we can have a bad day together. We can lay in bed all day and munch on food that will probably take years off of our life, we can do anything you want. Just tell me, okay? If something ever happened to you… shit, y/n.”

He then pulled me into a bone crushing hug, holding onto me as if I’d disappear if he let me go.

“That’s my worst nightmare. I could handle being kicked out of the avengers or any other terrible stuff. But losing you? Just thinking about it breaks my heart, baby.”

I felt the tears rising once again as I took in what he said, not used to hearing someone say these things to me. Leave it to Peter Parker to make me feel completely vulnerable and open, something I usually hated. I immediately relaxed in his embrace, letting out a soft cry as my arms wrapped around his waist and I buried my face in his neck.

“I love you, Peter,” I muttered softly, my heart skipping when I felt Peter’s lips against my temple, smiling against my skin.

“I love you too, y/n. Please don’t ever forget that.”

Maybe opening up a bit wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

[itsuki-minamy]

“SIX IDOLS” – “SPRINT DREAM” (Part 3)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

* Part 01 / Part 02

An hour after the start of "Sprint Dream Live", the heat in the Tsubakimon Dome was visibly increasing. At the same time as the entrance began, a group of fans flowed into the audience seats like a flood, and they began to furnish the place with posters, posters and items with each of the recommended men drawn. At the same time, fans are excited about the upcoming festival and are looking at the stage with shining eyes.

To meet that expectation, a scene similar to a battlefield was unfolding in the backyard of the stage.

"The president has arrived at Shikaido Station! We will move on to Sequence B!"

"The target has been set at point B! We will wait until the president picks it up!"

In the temporary monitor room with the sign "Headquarters for the execution of the president's return plan", a part of the backyard, reports were constantly being raised.

The purpose of this headquarters is to fully support the return of Munakata. The staff involved are elite to make the "return plan" successful, from organizing and contacting various locations, managing the schedule, passing on traffic information and understanding Munakata's current position.

In one of the compounds in the panel, his current position is always displayed by the Munakata PDA tracking system. Awashima asks the staff while looking at them with a tight gaze.

"What is the progress of the plan?"

"It is 2 minutes and 15 seconds late, but it is within expectations. Currently, the Sequence C execution unit is moving. We will get to Point C on time."

"So…"

Awashima occupies a small area and looks at the monitor.

The plan is going well. At this rate, he can be in time for the opening ceremony, even if it's at the last minute. Unless something unexpected happens.

"Deputy Director Awashima."

Awashima looks around in a loose voice, rolling her shoulders.

Fushimi Saruhiko was as if he was leaning against the monitor room door.

He is the star idol of "Promotion Scepter 4", which is the center of the popular "Shoumutai" unit. Many fans were fascinated by the lonely atmosphere, and about 30% of the customers who packed the dome today are looking for him.

Awashima opens her mouth as she calmly looks at Fushimi.

"Fushimi. You should be in the final stages of doing a "Dream Corps."

"If the president is late, there won't be any 'Shoumutai', right?"

Awashima's beautiful eyebrows drew a dangerous angle.

“The plan is on the right track. You do not have to worry about that."

Fushimi laughs. It was an annoying laugh.

"Isn't there a countermeasure in case we run out of the star? Do you really think he can pull it off?"

"What do you mean?"

Fushimi casually pulled his hand out of his pocket and tossed what he was holding to Awashima. Awashima takes it deftly.

It is a recording medium in the form of a micro card.

"If you don't, I will. I made a new list of songs. If the president is late, I will."

Awashima's expression becomes more and more pronounced in a throwing tone. She squeezes the recording medium and she says quietly.

"Do you think I will receive this?"

"If you don't need it, you can throw it away. I can't bear to expose ourselves to that person's mistakes."

Awashima quickly waved her arm and threw the recording medium back.

"President…"

Fushimi deftly accepts that which came back like a bullet. Awashima, looking at the stagnant eyes behind the glasses as if shooting.

"I will not make any mistakes."

"Sorry."

Fushimi shrugged slightly and went back to his place. Looking back at Awashima over his neck.

"Well, tell me if you need it."

With that alone, Fushimi left the monitor room.

Awashima stared at the monitor room door for a while, staring into his eyes. It's like doing it is a protest against Fushimi.

It's not that she doesn’t understand what Fushimi is saying.

Believing is different from believing blindly. Fushimi's view that he assumes the worst and take countermeasures is entirely correct.

However, Awashima did not receive that song list. She refused to even see it and turned around.

She felt that receiving it would be a distrust of Munakata, who had confirmed that he would be on time.

"The president has reached point C! Collection complete!"

"We have started to move! The plan is going well!"

Awashima muttered unknowingly, listening to the reports that came in one after another.

"President, be careful."

Those words were like a prayer.

++++++++++

That day, Yuri Yamazaki (26) was vaguely in front of Shikaido station.

She works in a product store managed directly by "Promotion Scepter 4". It was supposed to be closed today due to the shift, but she got an urgent call from her boss about 5 minutes ago. She had no particular plan, and she was quick to get to this point because she was drawn to a pretty good vacation assignment.

Anyway, Yuri thinks.

It was a strange call. Being with the bicycle in front of the station instead of the store.

Apparently, they told her to lend the bike to someone, but they did not tell him who to lend it to and only told her the time of the meeting. It would be profitable to get a vacation allowance on this alone, but Yuri checks her cell phone while deeply thinking that she would complain if she was forced to do something else.

Seeing the displayed time, she sighed.

The "Sprint Dream Live Tour" will begin soon. Like most idol shop clerks, she is a fan of “Promotion Scepter 4.” She decided to work at an idol shop because she loved idols.

However, just because she is an employee doesn't mean there are benefits. Controls in that area are tight, and the clerk who secretly secured her own live ticket was sometimes ill. She must take the ticket herself, and if the lottery is lost, the schedule may disappear from the vacation she got, just like the current situation.

Two minutes have passed since the specified time.

"I wonder... if he's late, can I contact him?"

She doesn’t know, the murmur leaks out. After 5 minutes, she will contact the store manager. Thinking of that, she suddenly looked up.

And she doubts her eyes.

Someone was running from the street in front of the station, at tremendous speed. He easily overtook the next bike and came closer. Yuri instinctively tried to back away.

However, when she saw the man's face, she doubted her sanity.

"Ah, President?"

What she unwittingly said was the nickname of Reisi Munakata, the representative of "Promotion Scepter 4" and "Idol King". Naturally, it spread from the case where the idols under his command called him "President."

Faced with the stiff lily, Munakata strode over to a halt. He exhales a little and smiles at Yuri.

"Excuse me, are you a store clerk?"

"Eh, yes!"

Her voice shook. Feel the blood of her entire body concentrate on her face. The reason is that Yuri Yamazaki's favorite idol is Reisi Munakata.

Half in panic, she yells out the questions that come to mind.

"But why are you here?! What happened to the 'Sprint Dream Live Tour'?"

"I'm having a little problem and I've taken a different route than normal. Don't worry, I'll be in time for the opening."

She felt as if the blood that had risen through her head was coming down this time.

In other words, it is an emergency. Yuri was a fan and she knew how confusing it would be to be late for the opening ceremony. Perplexity, pain, disappointment. Just imagining being there, the pain felt like its own.

Yuri rushes up and says.

"Is there anything I can do?!"

“Lend me the bicycle. It's enough."

Yuri blushed again. If she thinks about it again, it was probably all part of the plan coming here. It is not a feat for the Munakata representative to give instructions to the directly administered office.

"Please..."

"Thank you."

Munakata straddled the bike without showing any pretense of noticing Yuri's tension. Somehow, it was an unattainable sight. The King of Idols, who can only be seen on TV or on stage, sits astride her bike.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going."

"Oh, yeah!"

Yuri instinctively stopped Munakata who was trying to get out.

Munakata looks at Yuri with his foot on the pedal. She held her breath with a mysterious look.

("Please sign.")

She had to desperately suppress that desire that came to her mind. Hasn’t she just found out it's an emergency? There is no second chance. And yet, unable to say such a silly request, that embarrassment forced Yuri's awkward smile and false words.

"Please do your best. I support you!"

Munakata, however, was looking at Yuri's face with calm eyes that looked through all her smile and strength. Munakata laughed lightly at Yuri, who suddenly became flustered and reached into her pocket.

"What should I write?"

"Eh?"

"I have a pen, but I don't really have colored paper. It's not in good taste with a notepad."

Yuri blinked many times. The feeling of regret, even the time she was wandering and wondering why him could see through her desires made her stiff.

Yuri handed him the PDA she was holding in her outstretched hand to Munakata. With her voice asking "Is it okay here?", she was fascinated by the magically moving pen. She picked up the PDA again, looking at the Munakata signature written there, and it was like a soliloquy.

"Why...?"

"I am an idol."

Munakata's response, as well as their relationship, was open and frozen.

"Idols live up to the expectations of their fans. My job is to capture your expectations."

"......"

"Good luck then. Thank you for your continued support."

With a courteous greeting, Munakata pedaled off the road in no time.

Yuri holds her PDA to her chest while watching him back. She murmured in an emotional voice, promising to turn it into a relic, and she was about to buy a new one.

"President, I will follow you for the rest of my life!"

To be continue…

[oh-styles]

Something About a Loss: Part I

Disclaimer: Before we jump in, I want to disclose that this chapter talks heavily about miscarriage, and depicts violence and bouts of depression. If it is something you aren’t comfortable with, I advise you to skip this one.

In addition, I found this chapter extremely hard to find a finishing point on. I feel it is not as good as my other works, simply because it’s sad as fuck. I don’t write sad stuff well, and I know this now. Nevertheless, I did it. 

I also advise that if you are sad after finishing this, you stream Lights Up.

May 18, 2019 Los Angeles, CA

You were ill, and infallibly ill, at that. Since the days leading up to this very moment, the one where you are splayed over the king size mattress with a thin sheet covering half of your exposed body – you can’t decide if you’re hot or cold – you swear up and down you have purged at least half of your body weight. Harry, who was as well as a whistle, claimed you just had a stomach bug, but felt confident enough to remain by your side despite the risk of germs.

“I can pop to the shops real quick, get you some ginger ale?... What sounds good, pet?”

Death. Death sounds good.

You don’t want to risk moving – or risk any movement, really – for the sole sake of your sensitive stomach that is one head acknowledgement away from projectile vomiting like you were in a poorly casted remake of The Exorcist. You can sense Harry standing beside you, and after a beat with no response, he reaches his hand out and holds it front of your mouth to confirm you are still indeed breathing.

“You still with me, sweets?” You wiggle your toe rapidly. “Is that a yes…?” Wiggle. “Alright, I’ll be back in a bit, okay? You want anything else? Crackers?” He’s met with silence, but he watches you from the doorway – giving a subtle glance to your big toe – and nods to himself. “Is it okay if I take y’car? Mine’s low on petrol and I don’t feel like—”

“Keys in purse,” you mumble into your pillow, pulling a hand free from the sheets and pointing somewhere towards the corner of the room.

“Right,” he spots the Gucci bag hanging on the closet door. “I won’t be long.”

But be long, he did, but it wasn’t his fault, really. He had to remind himself he couldn’t get sidetracked, that he had a sick girlfriend back home waiting for him, so he needed to promptly check off his mental grocery list and be out the door before you could say Harry Styles. But, it’s right as he’s awkwardly carrying three Canada Dry’s, and beginning to regret passing on grabbing a basket, that he hears it.

“Harry Styles!”

It was a few photos and a video of a cool hat trick later that he finally found himself tucked away safely back in your car.

“Alright, sicky, I’m home.” He nudges the bedroom door open with a light kick and sets the bag of drinks down on the end of the bed. Where he left you, just a mere thirty minutes before, is now empty, and he spots where you kicked off the sheets in a clear haste; it was no telling where you are now. He can hear the harsh guttural retching from the bathroom door, and with a peek inside, there you were, lay stark naked on the opaque tiles. “Blood hell, pet.”

“I think I’ve fallen ill,” you mutter against the toilet seat. That was a major understatement if he’s ever heard one. This was the second day you’ve been stumbling into the bathroom at all hours of the day, seemingly fine just moments before. It was hard telling how much longer this could last, but Harry already decided by tomorrow he was willing to take you to the doctor if no symptoms have let up.

You were not having it; you had fully accepted death if it meant avoiding any doctors office--needles, blood tests, what have you. It was just a stomach bug, one that would pass, and you’d rather not waste his time and money on something that can be treated with water, rest and back rubs.

Though, the following morning, after you were finished purging your breakfast into the toilet, you spotted Harry in the doorway of the bathroom with your shoes in hand, and a sullen, sunken face.

“Alright, let’s go, pet.”

You were 24-years-old, an adult woman, who at the mention of anything medical, instantly recoils into a ball on the floor. No, sir. There was no way you were going. Water, rest, and backrubs--that’s all you needed, thank you. But, unfortunately for you, your boyfriend stood firmly in the doorway, and already prepared himself for such a reaction.

“There could be something seriously wrong with you, pet. Read something about a parasite--”

“A fucking parasite.”

“It’s just a thought--”

“Something could be growing inside me?”

There was more on his mind than just a fucking parasite, but he couldn’t find the words to say them, not with you hyperventilating on the bathroom for in fear of having to see a doctor. In truth, it was the first thing that came up when he searched your symptoms, and when he called the doctor that morning, they too agreed you come in for tests.

If he were to say the p-word, your panicking might only intensify. It’s not that you didn’t want kids, but it wasn’t something that was exactly on the table for discussion as of late. Was it something you could see yourself doing in the future? Of course, but that was in the future, maybe a couple years from now. You still relied on your boyfriend to remind you to take your vitamins; there was no way you were ready for a baby.

As for Harry, ever since the first morning you chucked yourself off the bed and raced to the bathroom, he knew; it was this gut feeling most would describe as an intuition, and with every passing day, it would only grow in size. If it wasn’t the morning sickness, it was you sleeping your days away, and complaining about the tenderness of your breasts.

You just thought your period was coming.

“Or...you could be pregnant.”

He had his assistant drop off a few tests that morning while you were still asleep, and maybe it was a father's instinct, but he knew the outcome before you even had to glance down at the test. He made a deal with you, if the tests came back negative, they would see a doctor. If they were positive, he’d give the two of you a day to let the shock settle.

He was relatively surprised by how resilient you were when he handed over the tests. There were three boxes, six in total. Throughout the day you would take one, which was easy because your urgency to pee had sparked over the last few days, and whatever response it gave you, you would make a note of it.

By the third pregnant, you stopped taking them.

Harry was making lunch, and the only thing you felt you could stomach was cooked spaghetti, minus the sauce. You sauntered down the stairs, the tests concealed in a ziplock bag, and tossed them up onto the kitchen counter.

“I want eggs instead.”

“Oh, yeah?” He didn’t bother to glance back at you. “Scrambled? Poached?”

“Fertilized.”

He was spreading mayonnaise onto a piece of bread, and you think he might’ve not heard you, but it was once he twisted the lid back on, setting the knife on the edge of the sink, that he turned around, that you realize he’d been crying.

“So,” he sniffs, a smile spreading wide. “We’re having a baby?”

It’s then that you pull out your phone, and do a quick Spotify search, fast forward the song until you’re reached the chorus, before you hit play on Kiwi.

* June 10, 2019 Los Angeles, CA

“Think we can snatch up some Cinnabon today, muscles? I got a hankering for some cinnamon on buns.”

At first glance, you don’t look any different; not from the day before, anyway. To any new pair of eyes, you’re just an ordinary woman who insists on stopping to pet every dog that passes by, and who trips over her shoelace she refuses to tie. No stranger would be vaguely aware of the hidden secret laid burrowed deep inside the swell of her stomach.

“Is it you that wants it, or baby bean?”

You snicker, but you damn well knew the answer. The little baby bean laid protectively inside of you just entered its ninth week of development, and you were proud to say it was the size of an almond. You spent the greater portion of the morning studying over all the changes the little one would be making, and the sexual organs were one of them.

“Okay, get this. It says that the gonads have become either testes or ovaries. We actually have a boy or girl—or whatever it wants to be, that’s their choice, but testes and ovaries, babe!”

You knew it would still be some time before you found out the gender, but it didn’t stop either one of you starting a list of names written in the Notes section in your phone.

“I really like Lily…or Meadow,” you inquire from the kitchen, as you dip a carrot into a tub of ranch. “Maybe even Moonbeam?”

“Moonbeam. Moonbeam Styles.”

“Could be a middle name, too. Meadow Moonbeam.”

“Babe, our child wasn’t conceived at Woodstock.”

No, but the thought crossed your mind frequently as to when your egg had openly welcomed your boyfriend’s sperm, and after some math and a doctor’s visit, you were left with a definitive time: late march, or March 29, to be exact.

“I think you knocked me up after the Rock ‘n’ Roll thing.”

“The Rock ‘n’ Roll thing,” Harry rolls his eyes.

“I remember—I was on my period the week before, and I didn’t want you anywhere near me, and I remember once we were in New York it was finally over, and after the Stevie Nicks thing—” You could see him roll his eyes once more. “—we went back to the hotel and we fucked like…all night, practically.”

“Okay, but you know that doesn’t mean it was that night.”

“Listen, okay. Because of the time change, I forgot to take my pill that day, so I doubled the next day, but because I missed—”

“How do you remember this stuff?”

“Just let me finish, will you!”

In the end, despite your distinguishing facts, the boy that laid sprawled out on the sofa in nothing but his underwear, still was doubtful whether to believe your undeniable facts. Yes, you were right that the two of you did get down and dirty that night, but you also got down and dirty for likely many nights after that, but he’s aware of how stubborn you are, and let you have this one thing.

“I can’t believe it… I bet it was because you were around Stevie Nicks. She put a spell on your sperm, I bet.”

*

June 18, 2019 Wembley Arena, London, UK

“Are you going to ask Stevie Nicks if she put a spell on your sperm?”

“Pet, I will leave you in the car.”

“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise!”

“And don’t…give anything away.”

You were one who did well with keeping secrets, but this secret was nestled away inside of your body, and it was only a matter of time before that secret was impractical to hide. You and Harry had decided that you would tell family and friends by the twelfth week, because there was something he read about most miscarriages happening in the first trimester – for whatever reason – and it was just better to wait until that risk was lower.

“It’s literally a week away—a week. A week, Harry.”

“6 days, actually.” He pulls his hoodie up and over his head, tousling his hair in the process. “Can wait 6 days, yeah?”

“You’re asking the impossible of me!”

“I’m asking you to not tell my mother I knocked you up.”

Knocked up. This wasn’t some one-night stand bullshit—though, you might recall him shoving your face into the bedsheets and ramming himself into you dripping cunt quicker than you could say, “Yes, baby, right there!” You like to imagine the conception of your child was a moment filled with love and passion, but you can’t lie to yourself and ignore the fact he spit in your mouth, and after he came in you, making you stand and let the cum drip down your thighs while he got off to it on the bed.

No, your child was created by love, dammit!

“Don’t tell Anne we made love and are having a baby, got it!”

Even he knows ‘making love’ wasn’t what you would call it, and the long pause as the two of you walked into the venue was more than proof of that.

Despite being given this absurd task of not letting any cats out of any bags, you did manage to keep your mouth closed upon the arrival of Anne Twist. She was quick to swoop you in her arms, planting a kiss on your cheek, and even rubbing a thumb over your cheek, saying something about your clear complexion.

“Your skin is looking beautiful, darling. Are you using something new?”

Pregnancy hormones. “Vitamins.”

“Oh, what kind?”

Pre-natal. “Hair, skin and nails.”

“Well, you are looking very healthy.” She really was none the wiser, well, up until moments later when you turned down a glass of wine backstage.

“I, uh, was really hung over this morning. Was throwing up all night. Pretty gross stuff.” You weren’t entirely fibbing. You and your unborn child have been playing a cat-and-mouse game of whether it will agree with what you eat or not. Last night, turns out, it did not particularly care much for the chicken and rice Harry had cooked up. “Just sticking with water tonight.”

Two days later, you and Harry attended the wedding of Amy and Mike, which was just another imminent disaster just scheduled to happen. It was one thing biting your tongue for one person, but that evening, you would have his entire family on your tail, and you aren’t completely confident on how many lies you can pull out of your ass in one evening.

But, it was that morning, after waking up in a haste and purging every last bit of your late dinner – you sometimes get hungry around 2 am – that you realize, staring back at you in the mirror, is the well-defined beginnings of a bump. Before, it only looked like you had spent your afternoon at an all-you-can-eat buffet, but now, you were pregnant. There was no way José you could fool anyone into believing you were just simply bloated from a big lunch.

“I think if the morning sickness gets any worse, we should try those pills the doctor was telling you about.” You hear Harry rustling around in the bedroom, seemingly on the hunt for the little slip of paper with the prescription. “D’ya want some toast, love?”

You heard a light tap on the other side of the door, and it was once he peeked his head in, that he spotted you, standing bare-chested in front of the mirror, and the obvious little convex mass that he swears up and down was not there a minute ago.

“We have to tell them.”

“Babe—”

“Your mom is already onto me, and I’m only going to get bigger.”

“You can’t announce pregnancies at weddings—that’s a law, or summit, yeah?”

“Well, this wouldn’t be a problem now if we had just told them earlier.”

“All of the books say it’s best to wait—”

“Well, fuck waiting—I’m fucking massive now!”

You ended up arriving late to the wedding, and considerably disorderly, after having to redo your makeup in the venue bathroom because you started crying on your way there because you saw a bird. No, that’s it. Just a bird, one that you thought looked very beautiful. You knew there was no way you could finish the night without crying at least five more times.

Your excuse for that: “Oh, probably going to start my period soon!” They’d get the truth soon enough.

*

June 28, 2019 New York, New York

“You’re actually going to wear that shirt to dinner,” you affirm, giving your hand a little wave in the air to help dry your nails. Harry gives a brief glance down at his top, stretching it at the bottom to admire it fully. “There isn’t anything else you could wear?”

“What’s wrong with m’shirt?”

“It says Safe Sex…like, in big letters—can’t miss ‘em.” It’s then, with a little more observation, you notice the two figures, and how they each appear to be holding— “No, for fucks sake, Harry. You aren’t wearing that outside of this hotel room.”

“It’s a nice shirt.”

“They are whacking each other off!”

“It’s a Keith Haring, darling. Get with the times.”

In the end, after much persuasion – and a threatening promise of spilling red wine all over his vintage top – he wore the shirt to dinner. A nice restaurant, mind you. One where the appetizer costs as much as a normal entrée at Applebee’s, and to fork the bill at the end of the night, you’d have to ask politely if they accept payment plans.

“Babe, stop looking at the cocktail menu.”

“I’m just looking.”

“You’re going to upset yourself because you can’t have any of it.”

“Babe, they put an actual egg white in a White Lady… Fucking rich people, let me tell you what…” And leave it to the rich guy sat in front of you to wear a shirt promoting masturbation to a 5-star restaurant.

“Maybe I can get the little Styles a matching one, so they can match with their daddy.” You saw the corner of his mouth twitch at the word; he still was getting used to the idea of being a father in the coming months.

“You’d actually be fine with your newborn child wearing a onesie that says Safe Sex?”

And after a moment’s thought, he didn’t bring the topic up again.

In the month since you found out about the pregnancy, there were many lifestyle changes you inevitably would have to change. For one, you weren’t allowed to stand in front of the microwave anymore, nor could you lay on your stomach, because you might ‘squish’ the baby. You tried to explain to your boyfriend that your child was practically the size of an almond, and laying on your stomach would do it no possible harm, but he wasn’t having any of it.

As if giving up alcohol was bad enough, you were forced to abandon your love for seafood. There was a list of things you could eat in moderation, but you weren’t exactly sure how to eat lobster in moderation.

You also spent an hour crying when you were told you couldn’t eat cookie dough do to the raw eggs.

“Love, you shouldn’t be eating it anyway!”

“It’s fucking good, Harry! Like you would know. The only sweet shit you put near your mouth is my cunt.”

Harry realized very early on that pregnancy, for you, was just a rollercoaster of hormones, and he better strap in for the ride. After he had told you that you had to give up coffee and sushi, you locked yourself in the bathroom while you cried in the bathtub.

“You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you! That stuff just isn’t good for the baby.”

“If it’s my baby, it’ll want it!”

You stayed locked in the bathroom for an hour, and only came out because you forgot there was a new episode of This Is Us. Harry then spent the next thirty minutes online trying to track down a eggless cookie dough recipe he could make, that way you could stop giving him the stink eye from across the room.

He was lucky you didn’t make him sleep on the couch that night.

* June 29, 2019 New York, New York

Tonight was your last night in New York, and you would then spend a week in London before heading out to Canada to enjoy a nice, serene vacation with the Gerber’s. Harry called your little holiday in Muskoka a pre-babymoon, but all you wanted was a vacation. You knew it would be later in the year when his schedule began to pick up, and all of the plans they have been deriving for months would finally be set in motion, so it was not set in stone as to when an actual babymoon could fit in that timeline or not.

“We’ll make something work, love.” Harry bumps his hip out and taps your side. “You’re not due until December; I know we can get away for a week.”

December 20th, to be exact. Harry had his fingers crossed for a Christmas baby, but the last thing you wanted was to spend the holidays overdue, trying to push a small human out of your vagina. If you could have it your way, Christmas would be spent cuddled on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate, your baby girl – or boy – fast asleep in its My First Christmas onesie, snoozing soundly on your chest. Harry would be off in the corner, taking aesthetic photos of you by the Christmas tree, and maybe he would find himself cuddled into your side for a little family nap.

But that was still six months away.

Harry was off doing a photoshoot for Rolling Stone, so you spent your afternoon back at the hotel with his debit card, buying every stretch mark cream that promised fast results, and ramen from GrubHub. You were also mildly surprised when your child decided it liked your lunch choice and let you digest it properly.

“So, we know you like ramen… I’ll make a note of that.” You smile, giving gentle rubs to your little bump. “I think next we should try some… Oh, dumplings sound good. Think you want some dumplings, little bean?”

And once again, you right back on GrubHub.

“Daddy will be back soon, and then we’ll go back on a plane and be home… Nana said she got you some stuff, so we’ll have to check that out, huh?”

You like to imagine that they’re bundled inside you, nodding along to everything you say. “Well, yes, I would like to check out what Nana got me!” Though, only the size of a lemon, your little, growing human has developed vocal cords, teeth, and even fingerprints.

So far, the pregnancy has been pretty smooth sailing for you. You feel like you spent most of the first trimester asleep or puking, but now you’re finding yourself up and moving, doing the dishes and laundry, vacuuming, and trying to find some time to spend in the bedroom.

The idea of sex while you had a growing fetus taking up your insides, for a lack of better words, freaked the fuck out of you both. Would it hurt? Would it damage anything? Every article you read online sufficed your thoughts, but you wouldn’t let Harry’s penis near you until your OB gave you the green light, and once that green light was lit, the two of you didn’t waste a moment.

You also didn’t really imagine the first time having sex since you two found out you were expecting would result in him calling his mom immediately after. In his defense, you trust Anne, and she’s been through this twice, so she must have all the answers. But, I think the last thing anyone would want is having their boyfriend call their mother after they’ve finished fucking you, to ask if it’s normal for their girlfriend to bleed a little.

“Yes, Harry… a little is normal…”

You texted her a few minutes later to apologize.

“I can’t believe you called your mom.”

“I panicked!”

“I don’t like it when she knows we’ve had sex.”

“Well…you are pregnant…with my child… Had to have m’cock in ya for that to happen.”

Harry didn’t waste any time getting back to the hotel after his shoot, and just like every morning right as he wakes up, he made a beeline to your bump and greeted it with a little kiss. “Hello, little bean. Did ya keep y’mum company today?” And of course, a kiss for you. “Are you all packed? Probably going to leave here in a few—flight leaves in two hours.”

“Yep, and—” You watch as he strolls around the room, picking up his phone charger and tosses it in his bag. His eyes, they were different. They were darker. They— “Eyeliner? They really put you in eyeliner?”

“Oh, yeah.” He grins, throwing on his jacket. “I wanted to get back here, so I didn’t bother taking it off.”

“You look like you belong in a pop punk band that writes songs about how much they hate their hometown but refuse to leave.”

Thirty minutes later, and the three of you were out the door. His driver was parked outside, and felt informed to give a heads up that a group of girls were beginning to form outside the building. This wasn’t your first time, nor would it be your last. At this point, all you could do was shrug your shoulders and carry on. All the times before, they never pay much attention to you, nor have they ever bothered to do so.

You noticed how Harry grew silent on the elevator, and even made the comment, “Stay close to me. Don’t stop for anyone.” You felt that was the baby talking, because the last thing he could imagine happening was lingering outside too long and getting jostled.

Outside the doors, he spotted the driver waiting outside the car door, and he reached his hand back to find yours. “Just stay close. We’ll be quick.”

You could hear the screaming through the glass doors, and once you were outside it was amplified. Girls were shoving, and reaching their arms out as far as they could, trying their best to get that small, brief touch. You kept your hand bound tight with his, your eyes fixated on the ground, and you knew you were only a few feet away from the car, until you felt a sudden, deafening whack across your back, one that sent you flying forward into Harry’s jacket.

Before you could find your footing, you felt a pair of hands tangle and twist itself in your hair, and you were violently thrown back, colliding with a hard blow on the pavement.

You could hear the screaming – much different than from before – and most certainly not from the same person. When you opened your eyes, all you could see were a pair of shoes, but they became closer and closer until you felt the kick strike your stomach, and again to your jaw.

“Get the fuck off of her!”

“Go fucking die, cunt!” Spat.

You didn’t realize you had been shielding your face until you felt a pair of hands reach out, taking your in theirs. You saw a brief glimpse of a cross tattoo, and were swiftly lifted up and settled in the backseat of the car.

*

Two hours ago, it had a heartbeat. It had told you how much it enjoyed the ramen and dumplings, and how excited it was to hear about the presents its Nana had gotten them. It was only the size of a lemon and had developed teeth and vocal cords and fingerprints. It was close to 3 inches long, and not even a full pound in weight, and now it’s all gone.

There wasn’t going to be a Christmas birthday. You weren’t going to sit on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate, with your newborn asleep on your chest. There wasn’t going to be photos taken by your boyfriend, ones he would show off to every one of his friends.

All the names would go unused. Meadow Moonbeam, Lily Magnolia, Sunshine Rainbow were all ceased to exist now. There would be no family now, just the two of you.

You listen to the nurse talk, and you watch Harry sit beside you, but you don’t say a word. You stare at the ceiling tiles and count 94, and once you’ve finished you notice she’s still talking, so you recount again, but this time you get 95. Maybe the room is just getting bigger, or you’re just getting smaller.

Harry adjusts himself in his seat and squeezes your hand. When you peak a glimpse over, you notice his eyeliner is now smeared, mostly having been rubbed off, and you can confirm that by the black mark on his hand. He says something to you, and you stare at his lips as he repeats it, but all the worlds fly over your head like the wind.

“Pet,” he says again, and this time you acknowledge him. “We can go. You don’t have to say here.”

You’ve already spoken to the police, given your statement. There wasn’t much of a statement to give, anyway. You didn’t see the person; hell, you weren’t even sure if there was just one. They could have had three heads; you really didn’t know. All you remember is the voice.

“Go fucking die, cunt!”

It wasn’t me who died.

There weren’t much more the nurses could do, at least not now, anyway. The nurse – you think her name was Nancy – said there was a chance you could need a D&C, and she went over the details, but you blocked her out. Harry even excused himself out of the room.

Before she left, she dropped a sonogram photo down on the side of the bed, the last picture you’d ever get of your child.

It’s been two hours, and you’ve not said a word. You reach down to feel your bump, to confirm to yourself it is still there, to make sure it wasn’t taken away from you while you weren’t looking. There wasn’t a heartbeat, but you bump remained untouched.

“Sweetheart, we can go. We don’t have to stay.”

You don’t even realize he’s returned, but he’s standing by the end of your bed, and the moment you notice his red nose – the light sniffle gave it away – you immediately reach out to grab the ultrasound photo, tucking it away at your side.

He keeps saying that, but once you leave, it’s really over. Those few months you had spent lying to your friends and family, keeping your little bump a secret, was all for nothing. It was all done. Finished. There was nothing to come tomorrow. No new development news next week. No waking up to Harry draped over your stomach, leaving a trail of drool on your shirt. No kisses, no change, no baby. It was all back to the beginning now, before you met your baby bean.

But life was different back then, because you hadn’t known what special love it gave you, and now that love has been taken away, and you’re just supposed to find your footing again and carry on like nothing happened. It’s only been two hours, but you don’t believe that’s possible.

You stay at the hospital for an hour more, until it’s been confirmed that you and Harry have another flight, this time at a different airport. Instead of JFK, you would be driving to Queens to leave out of LaGuardia.

“Hun,” you hear him walk around to the other side of the bed, reaching down to grab your shoes. “I love you.”

You can’t turn around, not with the pain still inching all across your abdomen, but you feel the weight shift on the mattress, and all of a sudden, a pair of arms wrap around your chest, pushing you back against his chest. It’s silent for just a moment, until a retching sob expels from the back of his throat, and he lays his head on your shoulder, and all you could feel where his tears drenching your skin.

His hand falls and lands on your bump – still there -  and it rests there for a while, softly rubbing little circles back and forth, his way of giving his baby bean one last goodbye. You feel him kiss the inside of your neck, and with another sniff, he steps away, and helps you into your shoes.

The two of you leave out of a back entrance where your vehicle is waiting, and in silence, you sit unmoving. You check once again to make sure your bump hasn’t disappeared.

It’s all you have left.

At LaGuardia, you’re escorted in by security, through another back entrance, and only once does Harry stop to take a couple photos. You stand silently, watching the interaction, and you’re astounded at how calm his demeanor is, where just forty-five minutes ago, he was at the hospital sobbing into your neck. You don’t understand how he could pose and smile – if you can call that a smile – despite having been given the news just hours before that his unborn child is dead.

It sounds vulgar; you hate the word dead, but that’s the reality of it now. It’s not living anymore, and maybe if you say it enough, you’ll stop feeling.

Anything to make the pain stop.

By now, the news has spread about the attack, and it’s all every update account and fan page can talk about. They talk about how they’re grateful you’re okay, how you’re up and walking and seemingly unscathed. As Harry walks back at you, you think you see them take another photo – a quick one, probably blurry – and you realize your hand is still resting on your bump.

Doesn’t matter anyway.

“C’mon, pet. Let’s get home.”

[oldjocklowden]

ooc meme

@hollywoodland-hqs​

How long have you been roleplaying?

I had a brief Sherlock RP blog way back in late 2010/early 2011 with my friend RPing as John, but that was short-lived. I didn’t properly start until December 2013. So... been a while now. 

What are your hobbies outside of writing?

I’ve really gotten back into watch movies recently, especially foreign language films. Other than that, I play video games, and mess about on my piano and ukulele and do a bit of singing alongside.

Do you have any pets? Tell us about them!

I do! We’ve always had cats, and we currently have two. There’s Darwin, who was named after the scientist for being seemingly intelligent at a week old, but his intelligence hasn’t improved much since - he can just about catch a leaf in the garden and that’s it. Then there’s Oliver, who despite being four years old, still looks like a big kitten and acts like it, too. He’s very sweet, loves attention, and is basically the cat version of my niece, who is only two weeks older than him. We also legally still own a cat called Lily (Darwin’s mum) but she abandoned us after we got Oliver because she hates boy cats (despite having two litters in very quick succession hmmm). I also have two tortoises called Tiberius and Tarquin, and they are hysterical, and even fussier eaters than me, which is saying a lot.

If you had a month of free time to learn to do something new, what would you choose?

There’s a few songs I want to learn on piano, so I’d probably focus a lot of time on that. Maybe learn how to edit videos better, too. 

Do you listen to music while you write? What are three songs on your playlist?

Sometimes. Most days, I have youtube videos on in the background, but occasionally I’ll have a music day. I have a playlist (called the Trash List) of Jaoirse songs for whenever I’m doing posts relating to them especially, but sometimes other stuff too. Songs include: Take My Hand by Skerryvore (their wedding song), Tell Me sung by Saoirse, and Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran, because of course. Are we surprised by any of these??

What’s a favorite recent youtube video/channel?

Oh christ, I spend so much time watching youtube videos. But some of my fave creators at the moment are: Markiplier (including Unus Annus with Ethan), PewDiePie, Drew Gooden, Kurtis Conner, Cody Ko, and Noel Miller. (Hit me up if you like any of these dudes so we can chat about em all day k thx.)

Tell us one random fact about you!

I studied history at university (although I had to dropout due to ill health), and I have a bunch of weird history books that I will happily talk to you about if you want me to. Just brace yourself. 

Who is an FC you’ve always wanted to use but haven’t yet?

Oof don’t open that can of worms! I’d quite like to play a YouTuber at some point, since I love watching their videos so much. Mark or Felix especially, love those dorks. 

What’s a plot you’ve always wanted to write but haven’t yet?

Uhhh Jack and Gigi makeout? @itsgenevievegnt​

Do you have a favorite plot you’ve seen someone else in the group do

Everything Harry and Fionn. @hcurly​ @tommyboyfionn​

Who on the dash makes you smile?

Everybodyyyyyy. I love seeing people I’ve known for half a decade, and people I haven’t had the chance to get to know yet, and everybody in between. Except @emwatsonx​ obviously. 

What is your favorite memory in the group?

Jaoirse wedding was a masterpiece, if I do say so myself. And it was so much fun seeing all the threads going on on the dash and people having a good time ic and ooc. That was pretty special. @irishxseahorse​

What’s your favorite thing about your celeb(s)?

Jack: he’s so unashamedly himself - one minute he’s all cool and suave, and the next he’s making himself laugh and being ridiculous. He and I also have the exact same sense of humour.

Zac: I love how untouched by fame he seems to be. He’s still best friends with people he’s known since he was young, and doesn’t really care much about being in the spotlight unless it’s on his own terms, and he just seems so down to earth and curious about everybody around him, whilst also being amazed that people are interested in him and his life. All that despite being in the public eye for half his life.

Timmy: he’s so weird and wonderful - doesn’t care about societal norms, does his own thing, embraces that he isn’t perfect, and loves messing with people for a laugh. 

George: he is the sweetest guy ever. Every time I read a new article or story about him, it’s somebody saying how kind he is to literally everybody. He knows everybody he works with’s name and takes the time to get to know them between takes. 

What’s a plot you miss?

Just from this group? First thing that comes to mind is always Tomily, because we all know I’m Tomily trash forever. But honestly just any plot involving Tom I miss, because I played him for such a long time. 

What would you love to see this group do in the future?

OOC barbecue yeah?? At mine. Nah, honestly, just more of the same - group trips, events, but not being bombarded with that kind of thing all the time. I like that it’s not overwhelming.

[lailaliquorice]

throw kindness around like confetti

did I just write over 4k words on periods? yes, yes I did

so this was fun, inspired by this post from @soft-boi-six. periods are hell on earth as I’m sure anyone with a uterus will agree and I love jane being the mother hen/period fairy just as much as I love everyone deciding it’s her turn for a little tlc. never written a 5+1 fic before but I actually quite enjoyed it bc I could get each of the little bits done pretty quickly. tagging @tenpin-boleyn bc it was her suggestion that this should be written that ended in this c:

Living in a house with six women meant that periods were a common thing being dealt with. And as not only the assigned mum friend of the group but also the one who seemed to suffer the least every month, Jane had very willingly taken on the additional position of ‘the period fairy’. She already kept a close eye on her friends to make sure they looked after themselves so it was easy to add another thing to her watch list, and was always on hand with anything they needed when the time came.

I.                     

Headaches and migraines were something that Catherine dealt with often. It hadn’t been hard to work out that they were linked to her emotions, since anxiety attacks were often plagued by stabbing pains at each temple and stressful days would usually trigger tension headaches that made it near impossible to do anything. But by far the worst were the skull-splitting migraines that accompanied her periods, leaving her bedbound for at least a day each month as the slightest movement was agony.

They always arrived like clockwork around an hour after she woke up on the first day, giving her enough time to get herself prepared and bunk down in her bed before the worst of the pain arrived. Occasionally she had less warning though, and when she was woken up one morning by a pulsating agony on one side of her head she knew it was going to be bad.

For a few minutes she stayed absolutely still and tried to breathe through the pain, terrified that if she sat up it would make everything so much worse. But she knew she had to get up before she could cocoon herself in her duvet for the rest of the day. With immense effort and a lot of stifled groans she forced herself to sit up, pausing for a moment on the edge of her bed to regulate her breathing again before she dared to stand up.

After the necessary bathroom trip she embarked on the mammoth task of getting downstairs, eyes only open a crack to look where she was going as the bright lights of the kitchen assaulted her vision. Every noise felt like thunder as she fumbled around in the medicine cabinet for the painkillers she needed, planning on just grabbing them and a glass of water before getting herself back into bed.

“Catherine?”

She let out a cry of pain as the voice sent agony shooting through her skull, clamping both hands over her ears and hunching forwards.

There was quiet for a moment before a gentle hand touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry love, it’s just me,” Jane whispered, and slowly Catherine was able to drop her hands when the pain subsided a little. “Caught you off guard, has it?”

“Mhm,” Catherine hummed. She couldn’t look at Jane, her chin on her chest as she kept her eyes shut against the pain.

“Here, let me help,” said Jane, nudging Catherine into taking a couple of steps backwards before she took over rummaging through the cupboard. Quickly she found the migraine tablets that Catherine got from the doctor, frowning when she looked inside and saw the box almost empty. “Did you set that reminder on your phone I asked you to last month?” she asked quietly, tutting a little when Catherine shook her head. She’d suggested a tracking app so that Catherine knew when she needed to renew her prescription and take her tablets in advance, aware that Catherine wasn’t always the best at prioritising her own health.

Catherine fidgeted nervously as Jane took her hand and pressed two tablets into her palm, swallowing them with a tiny sip of water. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Jane was surprised to see a tear tracking down her cheek when Catherine tilted her head up. “Oh love, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” she sighed with a smile, rubbing a soothing hand over Catherine’s upper arm. “Let’s get you back into bed, hmm?”

Giving Jane the tiniest nod in agreement, Catherine let Jane take her by the arm and help her slowly up the stairs. As Catherine eased herself back onto her pillow Jane made sure the curtains were fully closed and the light was off, before getting a cool flannel and laying it over her forehead in the hope that it would help with the pain.

“Call me if you need anything, alright?” she whispered as she tucked the duvet over Catherine’s huddled form.

Catherine hummed quietly, and with a quick kiss on her forehead Jane left her to try and get some sleep.

 II.                   

Anne always found it fitting that her cycles were as unpredictable as she was. It did make life more difficult though; she could never predict when she’d be on for a show, and would usually end up calling in sick very last minute when the sudden onset of cramps left her unable to stand let alone dance. Her attempt at using tracking apps resulted in her phone being as confused as she was to when she’d be on next, so she abandoned all hope of getting an advanced warning and just accepted what she got.

Somehow though, Jane had managed to work out her own way of knowing. Anne wasn’t as much of a morning person as she and Aragon were but she was by no means a late sleeper, usually announcing her presence in the kitchen by 9:30 every morning except on her days off. Whenever Anne hadn’t appeared by half an hour later Jane knew she was either ill or on her period, and if she’d been fine the evening before it was fairly safe to assume it was the latter.

When the clock struck 10:15 Jane headed upstairs with a box of supplies she’d managed to pull together, consisting of pads and painkillers as well as a bar of chocolate. Anne was still curled up under her duvet when Jane peered around the door so she just left it on the end of her bed, figuring that Anne would come and find her if she needed anything else when she woke up.

That turned out to be less than a minute later, when Jane’s progress down the stairs was halted by a screech of “HOW DOES SHE KNOW!!”

Jane didn’t try to restrain her laughter as she turned round and headed back up the stairs, opening the door to see a very dishevelled Anne sat looking at her with an exasperated grin. “Seriously, how do you know? Even I never know!” she said, pretend outrage in her voice.

“It’s the mum senses, love,” Jane said with a wink, using Anna’s term for her innate ability to know when one of them was either in pain or doing something idiotic.

Anne groaned dramatically, one hand on her stomach as she stood up a little hunched over. “Honestly you’re probably right. Can I have a hand?”

“Of course.”

Hurrying across the room, Jane put an arm around Anne’s waist and let her sag into her side. She knew Anne didn’t like staying cooped up in her room alone when she wasn’t feeling her best so she didn’t bother suggesting she should stay in bed, instead just helping her downstairs to the kitchen. While Anne was in the bathroom Jane warmed up a hot water bottle for her, giving a sympathetic wince when Anne shuffled back through the kitchen into the living room.

Anne was curled up on a sofa with a blanket when Jane walked into the otherwise empty room, glancing up when she heard the door open and reaching out her arms in a grabbing motion towards her. Jane chuckled as the hot water bottle was snatched out of her hands, though her amusement turned into empathy when Anne pouted up at her as she pressed the hot water bottle against her stomach.

“You poor thing,” Jane said, sitting down beside her. Immediately Anne curled up into Jane’s side and rested her hear on her chest, letting out a quiet sound of contentedness when Jane started to run her fingers through her hair. It wasn’t often that Anne was clingy with her to quite that extent, that was more Kat’s style, but whenever she was unwell she always craved physical contact more than usual.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Jane glanced down at her and asked “Would you like me to call in sick for you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like me to stay here with you for a while?”

“…Yeah.”

Jane smiled at Anne’s nervous answer, tightening the arm around her shoulders to hold her close for as long as she needed to.

 III.                 

Anna was very good at just dealing with things. If she was under the weather she’d just dose up on cold medicine and power through, if she was hungover she’d just put her sunglasses on and get on with it, if she was injured she’d ignore it and insist she was fine until Jane managed to restrain her long enough to assess it. That was what she did; get up, get shit done, crash afterwards.

That didn’t mean she didn’t suffer in the process though. And that was especially accurate when it came to her periods, as in her opinion she could only describe them as ‘the back pain from Hell’. What was even worse was that the pain always outlasted her period itself, which as far as she was concerned was just unfair.

When she stood up to get into her costume before a show and felt the first twinge of pain in her lower abdomen she paused in her tracks, groaning quietly as she let her eyes fall shut for a moment. She’d be fine for the show if she took painkillers fast but she already knew the rest of the day and the next few as well would not be enjoyable at all.

“Anna? What’s the matter?”

Anna looked over at Jane’s concerned voice, wondering at first what she was doing in the other dressing room before remembering she was with them today since her mirror lights weren’t working. “My uterus is playing the jaws theme song,” she joked, straightening up and taking her costume off the hanger.

“Oh,” Jane said with a nod, watching Anna for a moment before she asked “What’s the jaws theme song?”

There was a moment’s pause, before Anna, Anne, and Aragon were all howling with laughter. “Sorry babes, oh shit,” Anna choked out between laughs, one hand on her stomach as the pain was aggravated by her laughter. “Someone gimme a hand, we gotta keep showing her these references,” she said, grinning at the very confused Jane.

Anne grabbed her phone from the desk and quickly pulled up a clip from the film to show her, who watched the screen with wide eyes as she tried to take in what she was being shown. “So it’s a warning for something coming,” Jane clarified, looking pleased with herself when everyone else nodded. “Right, ok. What’s coming?”

Anna rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she deadpanned “My period.”

“Oh! Why didn’t you just say! What do you need?” Jane was instantly asking, yanking her bag from under the desk and opening a side pocket to reveal enough tampons to kit out a menstruating army.

“Did you buy a year’s supply or something?” Anna asked jokingly, shaking her head when Jane held out a fistful towards her. “No no, I’m good thanks. Just some painkillers if you’ve got any.”

Sure enough, Jane unzipped another compartment of her bag to pull out an enormous box of double-strength ibuprofen tablets. “Here you go love, and I’m sure we can find you a hot water bottle for when we get home. At least it’s only a one show day today,” she said, smiling sympathetically as she passed Anna a sheet of tablets.

As she’d expected she managed to get through the show without any trouble at all, ignoring the building ache in her back that worsened right before the megasix. The minute they were off stage though she was trudging up the stairs towards the dressing rooms, throwing open her door and crashing heavily into her chair with her head rested on the desk.

A hand on her shoulder alerted her to Jane’s presence behind her. “How are you feeling love?” she asked quietly.

Anna just groaned in response, lacking the motivation or the care to come up with something more coherent.

Jane squeezed her shoulder, tugging her lightly until she sat up to see Jane stood there holding the clothes she’d worn to the theatre. “Come on, just got to get changed then we can go home and put a film on or something.”

Anna smiled faintly. Home and family was a nice prospect.

 IV.                 

It wasn’t uncommon for Kat to end up in Jane’s bed in the middle of the night. Their rooms were next to each other so it wasn’t far for her to go in the darkness, and it meant that Jane was usually woken by her nightmares anyway so Kat didn’t feel quite so bad about bothering her. It wasn’t just nightmares and flashbacks that drove Kat to seek the comfort of her mother figure though, sometimes if she was feeling particularly miserable she would just want someone warm to huddle up against to make her feel better.

Jane was only dozing lightly when the sound of her door shifting over the carpet broke through the sleepy haze in her mind, so she rolled over and put her arm out as the mattress dipped and someone curled into her side. She cracked open an eye to check it really was Kat – occasionally when Anne’s night terrors were bad enough to drive her down the attic stairs she’d end up in Jane’s bed and even Cathy had turned up once – before she murmured “What is it sweetheart?”

Kat just groaned at first, tightening the arm around Jane’s stomach. That was enough to tell Jane that it wasn’t a nightmare that had brought Kat in, since if that had been the case the simple question would have been enough to coax out a tearful explanation. “Don’t like it,” she whimpered, her voice muffled by the material of Jane’s nightdress.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, darling,” Jane pressed softly, a twinge of worry in her chest.

After another few moments of silence, Kat mumbled an almost inaudible “Period.”

Jane nodded in understanding. “You just don’t feel good, do you?” she said as she stroked a hand over Kat’s hair. Her eyes were still closed though she didn’t need to see Kat to sense the discomfort in her tense body.

The pitiful hum of agreement drew a sympathetic noise from Jane, rubbing comforting circles into Kat’s tight shoulders in an attempt to get her to relax a little. “It’s alright love, I’ve got you,” she whispered, smiling a little as some of the tension in Kat’s arms lessened. “Have you taken any painkillers?”

At the tiny shake of Kat’s head, Jane pushed herself into a sitting position while ignoring the unwilling noise from Kat as she was dislodged from around Jane’s waist. “Sorry darling, but you need to take something,” Jane pointed out, chuckling lightly when Kat was still reluctant to let her go. “I promise I’ll be back in a second and we can go to sleep then. Ok?”

“…ok.”

Jane smiled, placing her hand on Kat’s head for a second before she wiggled out of her arms to get out of bed. Her footsteps were quiet as she padded down the stairs in her socked feet, very aware that Anna was probably asleep on the floor below, and thanks to her recent reorganisation of the medicine cabinet it was only a couple of minutes before she found what she needed and was heading back up the stairs with painkillers and a glass of water.

“Here you go love,” she said as she tapped Kat’s shoulder to get her attention, keeping one hand on the glass as Kat took the tablets just in case she dropped it.

As soon as she’d finished the water, Kat murmured “Sleepy time now. You promised.”

Chuckling quietly, Jane agreed “That I did,” as she climbed back into bed and opened her arms for Kat to curl back into her side. “Try and get some rest, hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Kat breathed out in quiet agreement, her body much less stuff as she wrapped an arm around Jane's waist and rested her head on her collar.

It was a few minutes of comfortable quiet before the last ounce of tension seeped from Kat’s limbs as she fell asleep. Jane smiled as she let herself relax too, happy to sleep herself now that she knew her baby was safe and looked after in her arms.

 V.                   

Cathy hated being ill. More than the physicality of it she hated not being able to do things, since any day not spent being productive was a day wasted as far as she was concerned. Aragon and Jane had given her many strict talking-to’s about that point of view, telling her sternly that she didn’t need to be creating something every hour or every day, and as much as she tried to take their words in she still hated whenever she was struck down so badly she had to give up on her work and take a day’s rest.

That meant that more often than not she hated the first day of her period. It didn’t happen every time, but when it did she would wake up feeling absolutely fine until she stood up. That was when her stomach would flip and she’d find herself racing to the bathroom as she was seized by nausea.

She didn’t hear the footsteps rushing down the hallway as she coughed into the toilet bowl. She felt the hands pulling her hair back and knew they were Jane’s even though she couldn’t risk looking up at that moment, just focusing on the gentle touch on her shoulder as something to ground her. After what felt like eons of heaving and shaking, Cathy rested her forehead on her arms as she let out a rough sigh.

“Easy love, you’re alright.”

Jane’s voice sounded miles away, but Cathy nodded weakly as she tried to regulate her breathing. She could feel herself shaking like a leaf and hated it. “I’m fine,” she croaked, trying to sit up unassisted but pitching over sideways into Jane’s arms as her strength failed her for a second.

A quiet chuckle above her made her glance up into Jane’s amused yet worried face. “Are you?” she quipped lightly, adjusting her arms so that Cathy was propped up more comfortably. “Is this a stomach bug or is it that time of the month?”

“The latter,” Cathy answered with a slight groan as her stomach rolled again. She glanced at the toilet, her body tensing, but thankfully the feeling passed within a couple of moments and she just flopped back into Jane’s chest.

“Let’s get you back into bed, hmm?” Jane suggested.

Cathy nodded as she let Jane help her to stand, supporting her as she swayed for a moment before finding her feet. After reassuring Jane she would be fine for a moment she shut the door to sort herself in the bathroom, cleaning her teeth too since her mouth felt disgusting, before letting Jane take over again.

“Can I get you anything love?” Jane asked as Cathy sat up in bed and pulled the covers around her lap. “Water, painkillers, some soup or something?”

She was reluctant to try eating anything but knew Jane would pester her about giving her body what it needed until she gave in. “Some water and chicken soup would be nice, thanks,” Cathy said with a smile, then pointed towards her desk as she added “And can you pass me my laptop please?”

Jane frowned, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a hand on Cathy’s knee. “You need to rest, love. The work can wait for another day,” she said gently, giving Cathy a concerned look.

“I know, but I’ve been working on a new project lately that needs researching. I just wanted to make a few notes,” she protested, sighing at Jane’s pointed glance. Backtracking a little, she changed her tone and asked “Alright, what if you keep an eye on me and I promise I stop if I’m tired?”

“I think that’s the best I’m going to get from you,” Jane agreed with a laugh, patting Cathy’s knee as she smiled. “Let me go and get those bits for you then I’ll bring my embroidery in. I’m warning you though, first sign that anything’s wrong and you’re going to bed!”

Cathy laughed tiredly as Jane walked out the door, resting her head against the pillow propped between her and the headboard as she waited for Jane to come back. As much as she hated not being productive, she could admit that it was nice to have someone watching over her every now and then.

 ( +1 ) VI.                 

For the most part, Jane was lucky enough to not suffer too badly with her periods. She would joke with the others that it was fate taking it easy on her after the way she’d died, but she was secretly incredibly grateful since any pain in her stomach brought on flashbacks from those terrible last days. It meant that she could be there for her friends too, something that put her maternal tendencies to good use.

But every now and then there was a month where she felt like death all over again.

She could already recognise how unwell she felt by the time she even opened her eyes. Her stomach hurt, she felt lightheaded without even needing to sit up, and she could already feel the uneasiness fluttering in her chest. But she still gritted her teeth and sat up, trudging to the bathroom before making her way downstairs. It was a two show day that day and she’d already overslept, she had to get moving.

“Morning Jane!” yelled Anne as Jane walked into the kitchen, already running round in her usual chaotic manner. “I’m in charge of breakfast! I’ve got eggs and toast and holy crap are you alright?”

Jane stopped and blinked as Anne actually stopped to look at her with her eyebrows halfway to her hairline. “What? Oh I’m fine love, please don’t worry about me.”

Anne glanced over at Cathy as she walked over, both of them wearing unconvinced expressions. “Are you sure? You look a little off-colour,” Cathy said gently.

“Little off-colour my ass,” called Anna bluntly from where she was sat at the kitchen table with Aragon, the three of them all turning to look at her. “Babes, no offence but you look paler than I used to be. Even for you that’s a bit much.”

Jane managed to laugh weakly at that, genuinely appreciative of Anna’s humour. She still wasn’t ready to back down. “Honestly, I promise I’m fine. I’m just… just…”

She didn’t finish her sentence since her body chose that moment to come over all faint, her vision blurring for a second before she jolted back into awareness. Cathy and Anne had reacted quickly enough to grab her arms but there was another body pressed close behind her keeping her upright. “You can tell us what’s wrong,” said Kat’s voice softly in her ear, “let us take care of you for a change.”

Jane nodded then, sighing before she managed to stand alone with the three of them still standing by to catch her again. “Just having a bad period I suppose. Feeling a little lightheaded,” she said, smiling tiredly at her sisters as she looked between them all.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Aragon asked as she and Anna walked over.

Rolling her eyes in the face of Aragon’s knowing look, Jane muttered “You can’t mother me Catherine of Aragon that’s my job.”

“Not today it’s not!” Anne said brightly, before she cleared her throat and clapped her hands. “Right you lot, Operation Mum is a-go! All hands on deck!”

Jane had no idea what Operation Mum was, but she was happy to let herself be walked into the living room by Kat while the others continued to busy around the kitchen. Anna appeared first with some painkillers and a blanket which she draped over Jane and Kat on one of the sofas, followed by Cathy with a bowl of chicken soup and Anne with a hot water bottle. Lastly came Aragon, who had enlisted Anne’s help to carry in six mugs of hot chocolate.

When Anna started flicking through films on the TV, Jane paused after a mouthful of soup to protest “But we’ve all got two shows today!”

“Shh,” Anne insisted, curling up under the blanket on Jane’s other side. “We’ve got time. Now just let yourself be mothered for once in your life.”

When Jane looked down at her snuggled into Jane’s side just as she’d been when it was Anne being taken care of, she couldn’t find it in herself to fight them anymore. After she was finished with her breakfast she hugged the hot water bottle to her stomach as she relaxed between Anne and Kat, glancing over at Cathy and Anna on the other sofa and Aragon in her armchair. Her wonderful little family.

She would always be the mother of the group, and that was just how she liked it. But sometimes she could let her wayward children take care of her when she needed them the most.

[roguethewriter]

Writing Characters with Depression

Ah, mental illness representation! So accurate and diverse!

Said no one ever.

Depression is one of the mental illnesses that are slowly entering the mainstream and becoming less stigmatised. Still, media and literature get a lot of things wrong. You're reading this, so clearly you're interested in what they're doing wrong, so you don't do it. You want to give me a well-rounded amazing character with depression in which we can feel represented, right? WELL, THANKS ANGEL, LET ME HELP YOU.

A couple of things before we start:

‌This is mostly based on personal experience. Mental illness manifests and feels different for different people, so always aim to have a variety of perspectives.

‌Trigger Warning: We're going to discuss some aspects about depression that might upset and hit too close to home to some people, so proceed with caution.

‌I'm not going to go into detail about the symptons, causes and treatment, as this is not a medical manual, but a writing guide. So we'll be focusing more about positive characterisation of people with depression in literature/media.

Let's get to it. And why you're at it, have a Malteeser for everytime I say the D word here.

How depression might feel for someone who has it:

‌Lack of energy

‌A feeling of constant fatigue

‌Hopelessness, thinking things are never going to get better

‌Losing interest in things, even things you used to love

‌Inability to concentrate, even on simple tasks like reading something or watching a tv show

‌Not seeing the point of living

‌Feeling like everything bad that happens is your fault

‌Seeing things in a negative light

‌A lack of self-esteem and self-worth

‌Loss of sex drive

‌Feeling irritable

‌Feeling suicidal

How can it manifest?

‌Sleeping too much or too little

‌Eating too much or nothing at all

‌Being self-deprecating, even if it's in a funny way

‌Withdrawing oneself from social activities

‌Moving and talking slowly

‌Neglecting one's appearance, ie. Not showering in days, not brushing your teeth, wearing the same clothes over and over

‌Abusing substances like alcohol, weed

‌Self-harming

‌Quitting your hobbies

‌Having a messy room, or leaving dishes pile up as you're unable to perform everyday taks

‌Quick to snap and get irritable

This list is not exhaustive, and it's also good to do some research, but these are some clear common signs!

Now, let's go for the bad examples:

Common tropes of characters with depression that make me want to throw away the book/tv to the bin

‌The Oscar the Grouch type: Nothing will make this character smile. They are determined to be a negative nelly and have a big black cloud over their heads.

‌The Sleeping Beauty: how do we know they have depression? Well... They're in bed. People with depression spend all their time in bed, right?

‌The Emo Teen: they wear black, they have studded belts, they wear stripes and eyeliner and listen to MCR, and have a monotone voice... That means they're depressed, right?

‌The eDgY eDgE eDgEdton: Omg, they're depressed, that's so edgy and cool. They wear flannel and write angsty song lyrics with their marker over the wall. They flip tables and cry handsomely while smoking weed. That's depression, right?

‌The Undestructible Teen: Life is tough, parents are getting divorced and Jason has left us for stupid Leyla, but let's not address our problems. We'll cure our depression instead by partying everyday and chugging a bottle of vodka. Oh-oh, have we drunk too much? No worries! There are no consequences to our actions or any long-term impact to our health. We just need the Sensible Friend™ to call us out and we'll grow out of our depression, which brings me to...

‌The Miracle: Did they have depression in episode 1? Well, THEY'RE CURED NOW! And all they had to do is just a little pep talk and get out of bed!

WELL, TO THE RUBBISH BIN TO ALL OF YOU, OFF YOU GO!

Things to take into account when writing depression:

‌Depression is an illness, not a character trait. Although it's true that it shapes the way you think and view the world, depression doesn't define your identity, and people with depression have a personality outside of their mental illness.

‌There are many different types of depression. There is depression with psychosis, there is unipolar depression and then if it's paired with episodes of mania it's called bipolar disorder (comment if you'd like a post on that!). Also, depression can mix differently with other mental illnesses, such as anxiety disorders. Unipolar depression is quite common, but other types need more positive representation too!

‌People with depression still have sense of humour. In fact, some people with depression are actually some of the funniest people. Although depression can make you see everything in a negative light, humour is one of the best coping mechanisms. It can serve as a waybof deflecting attention from themselves so their loved ones don't get worried or making people laugh is the only thing that can lift up their mood. Whatever it is, characters with depression can still be the life of the party.

‌There is not only one way of going through depression. Some people are bed-ridden and have a complete lack of energy, but some people seem to be quite high-functioning, go to work, do the groceries, but feel miserable inside. Some people might even go through both things through their lifetime. The point is that depression affects everyone differently, and it varies according to the type of depression you have, your life situation, and even the stage in which you're in.

‌It's not just sadness. Sometimes, it's not sadness at all. It might be lack of energy, hopelessness, a sense of losing direction and purpose, and in the darkest of times, losing the will to live, to keep fighting. It's important to understand the spectrum of emotions if you're writing a character witj depression and not reduce it to just "a bad mood".

‌Depression is not always due to trauma. The majority of the stories of depression we hear is a person reacting to a major life event: the death of a relative, parents divorcing, losing a job... But sometimes there is not a real life trigger from depression. Sometimes, it's a chemistry imbalance or simply a hereditary cause (attach link). Some people with depression lead stable lives surrounded by loving people and still have the illness, and this creates a feeling of frustration and self-blame, because you feel you might be at fault for being depressed. This is something a lot of people with depression struggle with, but it's not widely talked about.

Okay, Rogue, so how do I write a character with depression?

Well, my little sweetling, let's do some Dos and Don'ts:

Dos:

‌Wonder why you want to write a character with depression. Is it to start a conversation? Is it to provide visibility and representation to the illness? Is it to show how the plot struggles have affected your character? Or is it just to give them "an edge" or make them somewhat interesting? Misrepresentation can be as bad as lack thereof so make sure you're doing it for good reasons.

‌Read own voices books and testimonials about people with the illness. When writing mental illness, most people go to the symptoms page on Wikipedia, but never think to research about how people affected by depression experience it. This will give you a bigger scope on all the different ways depression can affect a person, and will make your character less of a "manual mental illness" type.

‌Create hope for this character. Yes, things can go wrong when you have a mental illness, and suicide rates are high for people affected by them. We know those stories, and they are necessary that we're aware of them. But we also need positive stories. Chances are, someone with depression will read your story, and to see s character with a happy ending can give them a glimmer of hope that is so much needed during dark times. We need more positive stories about mental illness.

‌Use trigger warnings. Some aspects about depression (self-harm, suicide, substance abuse...) can hit too close to home for some people. It's important you warn your readers.

‌Make them interesting, please! Depression does not equal boring. Make them charming and funny and still hopeless, make them be surrounded by loving relatives and still feel miserable, make them be the most helpful friend or loving daughter and still be unable to help themselves. Giving a character depression is not going to be enough to make them interesting, so make sure they have a well-rounded personality.

Don'ts:

‌Romanticise the illness. Do you think depression is lying in your bed in your black clothes listening to Nirvana on loop? Then you're very far off. Although I previously mentioned depression looks different from everyone, things are likely to get ugly. Depression is more than drawing angsty black ink portraits in your sketch pad. It's having your eyes dry and hurt from staring at your phone screen all day. It's your bones aching from sitting on the sofa until 3am dying for some sleep yet being unable to move yourself to bed. It's blood streaming down the sink from brushing your teeth after not brushing them in days. It's the stale smell of the tracksuit bottoms you'be been wearing for weeks. It's your hair feeling like cardboard from all the product and dirt that's been accumulated after not showering for days. Yes, this all sounds tough, but that's because depression is tough and ugly for those who go through it. Show it.

‌Bash on medication. Some people take it, some people don't, but being negative about it in your content can put people off it, people who might actually need it.

‌Have the character "grow out of it". If they have depression in chapter one, they're very likely to have depression in chapter 10, or even in book 2. They might learn coping mechanisms along the way, but depression can take months, or even years to treat, so we won't believe you if you say they've been cured in 3 days. Or maybe:

‌They were depressed, but they have to save the world, so they grew out of it. Yeah, right mate, like if pep talks were that useful people would spend loads of money on therapy and medication. Riiiight. Your hero might eventually get up and save the world, but the depression will still be there, it won't get cured by saving the planet, it will be waiting for them at the end of the road, so be ready to write that.

‌Cure the character with a love interest. Ah, they had depression, until she came to their life. Now they are cured by love! Nah, mate, they will still struggle with depression even when they're madly in love with the most perfect love interest. Some people with depression have loving stable relationships, so this trope makes no sense.

In conclusion / TLDR:

‌Depression has a lot of different faces, not everyone experiences it the same way or is affected by it the same way.

‌It's not always triggered by life events; sometimes you get it and that's it.

‌It's more than just feeling sad.

‌Some people are quite high-functioning despite suffering from it.

‌Don't glamorise: show the good, the bad and the ugly.

‌Be consistent: if they're depressed in chapter 1, they won't be able to grow out of it in chapter 2.

‌Don't be negative about medication or therapy.

‌Use TWs for sensitive content.

‌Tell positive stories and give a glimmer of hope.

Wow! That's a lot, isn't it? You're probably thinking "this is hard to write!", and that's because it is. This is why I asked you to think why you want to do this. Hopefully it didn't put you off and you still want to give the community some good representation.

Anything I left behind? Any more posts like this you'd like to see? Hit me up with comments!

Good luck with your writing and please, hit me up with any questions or talk to me about your OCs and WIP about mental illness. Peace!

Useful links:

Nhs website on depression

Mind guide for depression

If you're struggling and need someone to talk to

[shhh-no-ones-home]

oblivion chris motionless x reader

+++++++++

okay im gonna be real, this is probably one of my favorite stories to date and i had way too much fun writing it. i hope you guys like it too!

Prompts: "Are we on a date right now?" "Are you flirting with me?" "You finally noticed?"

Song: what am I gonna do today by the regrettes

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @cynic-spirit @alilpunkrock @theoneandonlykymberlee @joeynihil @thisplace-ishaunted @xyours-eternallyx @lifeisabitchandsoareyou +++++++++

i sat around and looked at the guys all playing on their phones, ignoring each other. i sighed, looking to chris beside me. my eyes flashed to his phone, slumphing into the bus couch when i noticed he was just playing some stupid game. i knew we had a chill travel day and we were almost to our destination but damnit i wanted to do something. ya know, before we got to the air bnb for the weekend. then it hit me.

"hey! you guys wanna go see a movie after we settle in?"

i asked, a few of them looking at me over their phones. there was a long silence as i looked between them all.

"so... is that a no?"

i asked and they all shrugged, looking around at each other. i sighed, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back into the couch.

"whatever."

i grumbled.

"ill go to the movies with you."

chris whispered and a smile immediately grew across my face.

"really?"

i said happily and he nodded, smiling back at me.

"yeah, you pick though, i dont even know whats out right now."

he said and i moved quickly to look up show times.

"you got it chief."

he squeezed my thigh lightly before getting up and walking to the bunk area. i caught ricky looking at me with a smirk but i just shook it off.

°°°°°°°°°

when we got to the theater chris was quick to buy the tickets before i could even reach for my wallet. i frowned, silently scolding him as he handed me mine with a 'gotcha' look. i shook my head at him as he took my hand in his and dragged us to the ticket tacker.

"theater thirteen on your left."

she said with a smile and i nodded, thanking her. chris held my hand tightly as we walked further in.

"oooo, wanna go play games? we got a little time before it starts."

he suggested and i shrugged.

"sounds good to me."

he nodded once, leading me into the game room. everything was lit up in neon and the fun designs on the carpet popped under the black lights. it made me laugh a little bit as we walked around.

"damn, they really have a lot in here."

i noted, looking to the wall with the racing games.

"i couldnt tell you the last time i was at a movie theater with this much shit."

he said with a laugh.

"ditto."

i said, continuing to look around.

"oh! wanna shoot some hoops?"

he asked and i laughed. he sent me a look before pulling me to the basketball game.

"come on chris, you know how bad i am at sports."

i said and he shrugged.

"and who isnt. now stop pouting and take the ball."

he demanded, popping four quarters into the machine and it surrendering the four basketballs to us.

"fine."

i gave up, grabbing one and aiming it at the basket. miss. i sighed, reaching for another as he made two shots in a row. i sent him a playful scowl as i missed again.

"here, try this."

he said, standing behind me, taking my arms in his and aiming towards the basket. when it made it in i cheered, looking to him and feeling a blush creeping its way up my body.

"see! there ya go!"

he said excitedly, letting me go awkwardly and stepping back into his own place. i cleared my throat and picked up the last ball.

"thanks chris."

i said, offering the ball to him.

"here, you should take the last shot."

i said and he shook his head.

"thats okay, you take it."

he said and i sent him a look.'

"no really, you are much better and i wouldnt wanna waste the shot."

i said and he laughed.

"here, how about we both take it."

he said, stepping behind me again and guiding me to shoot it like he had before. when it went in the hoop the game made a ringing sound. he didnt let me go right away though and i looked up at him to see him looking at the score scrolling across the top of the game. when he did finally look down at me he sent me a smile and i couldnt help melting a little bit.

"you did great."

he said softly and i nodded, leaning back into his chest and he sighed in content. thats when it really clicked. this wasnt what i thought it was and suddenly rickys look made sense.

"chris can i ask you something?"

i asked and he let me go, scratching the back of his neck lightly.

"yeah, whats up?"

he said a little nervously and i let out a shaky laugh.

"Are we on a date right now?"

i asked and his face fell, his eyes darting around like he didnt know what to do.

"do you want us to be on a date right now?"

he stumbled through his words and i took his hand in mine.

"come on, lets go play a game i actually know i can win at."

i said, tugging at his arm and guiding him to the skeeball ramps.

"you didnt answer my question."

he said lightly as i popped two quarters in each of our machines. i sent him a playful look as the balls released into the shoot. i picked one up and held it between us.

"if one of us gets a hundred ill let you know if this is a date or not."

i said and a hint of mischief flashed behind his eyes. he picked up his own ball.

"youre on."

he challenged and i started on the game, aiming and sending the ball swiftly up the slope. it dropped into the fifty at the top of the ring.

"close."

he said and i laughed, sending him a look as he tossed his own ball, it falling into the ten at the bottom of the ring.

"awe, so close."

i mocked, patting him on the back. he sent me a testing look before we both grabbed another ball.

"Are you flirting with me?"

he said half annoyed as his next ball went into the forty and i snorted, sending my own ball and it landing in the fifty again.

"You finally noticed?"

i torted back, sending him an evil grin.

"so this is a date?"

he said and i laughed.

"you get one hundred yet?"

i asked and he mumbled something under his breath, sending the ball full force up the ramp. i looked over just as it hit into the hundred hole and my mouth dropped.

"yes."

he said, turning to me. i closed my mouth and looked up at him but before i knew what was happening he was coming at me with both hands, holding me in place and smooshing our lips together. i dropped the ball in my hand, hearing it thud onto the floor as i moved my hands to his sides. i kissed him back with as much intensity, sighing against him as his hand moved into my hair, the other sliding down and resting at the base of my neck, just against my collar bone. when he pulled away i gasped, my eyes fluttering open and seeing him staring down at me with a drunk kind of look across his face.

"yeah,"

i started, swaying forward a bit as the daze left me.

"id say this is a date."

i confirmed and he smirked at me.

"great, cause ive been waiting."

he said deeply, leaning down and kissing me again.

[hillbillyhippiemusicreview]

POST #35 - Ragland, “More Like a Melody”

“Sounds more like a melody than it sounds like word”

Y’all on Valentines Day 2020, Tahlequah, Oklahoma based Ragland releases their 4th record “More Like a Melody.” The husband and wife combo of Autumn Ragland and Sam Cox have put together an astonishing 20 song album for our listening pleasure. With all songs written by Autumn and Sam, they have broken the album into “seasons.” Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter; with each song relating to that season by the subject, when it was written or how the song feels. Y’all, I have to admit, it’s pretty awesome how they carefully pieced each of these songs into those categories. With a background in art and design, that amount of detail in a 20 song album is impressive to my perfectionist self.

Starting with an instrumental only song, which is the theme throughout, the “Spring Instrumental” makes you feel happy and excited. Something is about to happen...the flowers are starting to bloom, the trees are getting greener and the days are getting longer.

Straight out of the Spring introduction, you are met with the previously released single “Trailer Like You.” I wrote a quick review on that one to give you a taste of this release a few days ago. You can find the link to it here:

https://hillbillyhippiemusicreview.tumblr.com/post/190597099341/post-28-ragland-trailer-like-you

After “Trailer Like You,” the Spring season is rounded out by “Call My Bluff” “ I Do It For You,” and “Shaking Hands.” “Call My Bluff is a lyrical masterpiece which showcases both the writing ability of Sam and Autumn, but also the power of Autumn’s transcendent voice. “I Do It For You” tells a story of life on the road while missing home... “I’ve given up on myself, but not on the dream”... “When I don’t have a reason to pull through, I do it for you.” Finally “Shaking Hands” shows determination when you feel as if you can’t go any lower... “There’s only one way up, we can’t go down.” Y’all can see the theme, just like Spring, these songs are coming out of a dark place (winter) and are seeking more.

The “Summer Instrumental” comes on and it’s cool, it’s rocking, and you know the days are getting longer and things are looking up. You might even get a sense of summer vacation in there if you close your eyes.

Two of my favorite songs on the album are in the Summer season (which really doesn’t surprise me). “Zooted” and “You are Everything” paint a picture of summer love and happiness. In “Zooted” they are having a good time in Colorado (pass to the right y’all)... “We’re ready to go home but I’m looking at the view.”

“You Are Everything” reminded me of my wife. She’s my best friend and she’s my everything (yeah, it’s cliche). But Autumn and Sam have a way of making it sweeter... “You are early morning sugar and cream in my coffee”... “You are all the things I never knew.” Y’all come on. Summer...Love. It just fits.

The Summer season ends with “Day and Night” and “Throwing My Life Away.” “Throwing My Life” away is like that reflection you have on summer or the last night of camp. You look back and think about what you did and what you’ve been through. However, in this case Autumn is describing the struggles of a woman in the music industry. We’ve all heard the bullshit about how radio stations can’t play 2 women artists in a row and how they are scrutinized so much more than men. Y’all why is that? Some of the best songwriters I have ever met are females. Some of the best artists I’ve ever heard are females. It’s 2020, lets get past that crap, okay? Okay. “I’ve been working my ass off and people still think that I’m throwing my life away...” Autumn, you are not! I just discovered Ragland a few months ago and y’all are high on my list. Female Led, Male led, it doesn’t matter.

After the “Fall Instrumental” ends and goes straight into “Reflect” you know it’s fall as Autumn describes the hue’s of the trees changing. “I found something in the yellows and reds of the trees.” Fall is a bit slower than Summer and you can tell it’s winding down with “On Fire,” “Love Leaving,” and “West of Idalou.”

As “Winter Instrumental” comes on you hear the bass and the slower, somber tone. You know the days are getting shorter, colder, and darker. That becomes even more apparent in “Coldwave” as Autumn sings “drove 300 miles across this state just to stay in a coldwave” and “sometimes it feels like payin dues will never end.” You sense a little melancholy and frustration. Much as we all do when the leave fall and it gets colder.

Y’all, as a person who gets the winter blues and hates the cold weather, I understood why “Save Me” was placed right in the dead of Winter. It is an emotional song that digs deep into the soul of someone who is troubled. “Had a few bottles, some whisky, some pills. Before they figure out where I’ve gone, I’ll be thinking through the barrel of a loaded gun.” “Oh, I’ve suffered death but I didn’t die.” Y’all, this is something that has been a topic in a lot of songs lately. It’s something that is hard to write about and I admire anyone who brings light on the situation instead of hiding it in the closet. Mental illness is a real thing. Someone cares about you. The world needs you. If you just want someone to talk to, message me (Nathan). I’m not that hard to find on Facebook if you are reading this or following our page...Reeling it back into the song...the lyrics in this song are powerful and bold, yet they show weakness. This is by far one of the best songs I have heard in a long, long time.

The album and the Winter season both come to a close with “Cain” and “If You Ever Came Home.” “Cain” possesses the albums namesake “Sounds more like a melody than it sounds like words.” “If You Ever Came Home” is one of the deeper and more heartbreaking songs of the album. It’s obvious it is a mother talking to her unborn child who never came home. It is raw and heartfelt. “You deserve more than me. You deserve more than this world. You were safer as a Dream.” Y’all, art and music are channels to express yourself. Sometimes its easier to sing how you are feeling that it is to say it. I feel like this is what Autumn and Sam are doing in this case. They made me feel the pain. They made me understand what they were going through. That is what songwriting is about!

As the seasons come to a close, the only thing left for y’all to do is check out Ragland and listen to this album. Remember, it comes out on Valentines Day 2020. In the meantime check out their recent releases and “Trailer Like You.” You can find Ragland on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and all the streaming services. You can also check out their website here: https://www.raglandmusic.net

As always, support local and independent music. Buy merch and albums. And ALWAYS go to the show!

-Cheers, N.

*This is an independent review. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated for this review.

*The opinions expressed are solely that of the author(s).

*These images are not our, nor do we claim them in any way. They were provided by Ragland.

[artificialqueens]

In Retrograde : Chapter Two (branjie) - ephemerals

Author’s Note: Thank you for all the support on the first chapter!! I’m glad you are enjoying reading because I have enjoyed writing this. You can find me at @missvanjies.

Synopsis: After spending months uninspired, Vanessa, a local reporter, becomes infatuated with writing a story surrounding the downfall of a police officer discharged after killing an innocent man.

When Brooke Lynn returns to her hometown after her life begins to fall apart, she doesn’t expect to find solace in the charismatic brunette who seems just a little too invested in uncovering all the secrets of her past.

In the days that followed the night at the bar, Vanessa’s mind had become plagued with inspiration. She had pitched her idea to Michelle, the editor. A think piece, the details will come later. All she knew was that the star of the show would be Brooke Lynn Hytes and her fall from grace. Surprising, Michelle enjoyed her ambition. Probably excited to read something with some substance. She just needs to see a draft on the table by the end of the week.

However, it becomes clear to Vanessa that she’s overlooked a lot of details and maybe she was a little too ambitious. Her grand plans are thwarted by crippling writers block, and when it hits the night before the deadline, she’s got absolutely nothing on her page. She needs to do some research, and quick. So, Vanessa reverts to the most effective method of gathering research; Facebook stalking.

Brooke Lynn Hytes. Seventy-four mutual friends. Vanessa enlarges her profile picture. She’s smiling, looking down from the camera towards her cocktail. It’s obviously taken by someone else on vacation, probably somewhere Mediterranean. Her blonde hair is back pulled in a tight bun, skin bronzed and absolutely glowing. If Vanessa didn’t know she was doing research on a criminal, she would have assumed this woman was an Instagram influencer or something along those lines.

Vanessa aimlessly clicks through several public photos, all of them seeming meticulously chosen. There was not a single bad photo among the bunch. In every single photo that loaded, Brooke looked the exact same. Tall, blonde surrounded by other beautiful women, handsome men. And that’s when she notices something. Not a single one of these photos were uploaded by Brooke, nor were they uploaded recently. Vanessa keeps scrolling through the pictures, all dated two, three years in the past.

And there’s this man. He’s in almost every single photo. Just slightly taller than her, dark hair, designer suits. Gorgeous and absolutely terrifying. Intrigued, Vanessa opens his tag. Luke Connelly. Luckily for her, his profile was completely public. Investment banker. Toronto. Got engaged to Brooke Lynn Hytes in August, 2015. Broke up with Brooke Lynn Hytes March, 2018. Well, this is just an assumption. There’s a surplus of brand new photos featuring a much younger, much smaller blonde girl. Her names Ariel and she’s a makeup artist. Vanessa also assumes Luke has known her longer than March.

After spending the better part of an hour scouring through the network of profiles, Vanessa concludes that she isn’t going to reach the deadline. That’s always when she decides that maybe she needs a drink.

…

Brooke’s been bored shitless for days. She’s really trying to stick to the promise she made with Nina. To behave herself, stay out of trouble. It’s been easier that she thought to do so. In the week she had been home, she had left the house only once and the entire time strangers gawked at her like they had seen a ghost. She spent her hours dwindling down her parents collection of mature wines and watching whatever Netflix recommended to her. It was just enough to distract her from thinking about her life, but not enough to entertain her.

As the supplies began to run dry, Brooke had begun to look for some new ways to keep her occupied without leaving the house. Late one afternoon, she found herself curiously rummaging through her father’s collection of vinyl records. Most of them she remembered fondly, her father playing them softly through the house whenever he was home. Brooke chose one at random, examining the cover for a moment before turning to the track list. Born In The USA. Gently, she removes the cover and places it on the turntable. As the needle hits the vinyl, the first notes of a familiar song begin playing.

Brooke takes a seat on her father’s armchair, resting her chin in her hand. This was the album she used to dance around the house to as a kid with her dad. He’d swing her around in circles until her mother would stop them in frustration. Her father was the first one to suggest that Brooke should take dance lessons, and with extreme perseverance, her mother finally agreed. Sometimes, Brooke wished that she followed that path instead. There was always this voice in her head that told her to be realistic, get a real job, get married, have a normal life. It was so much easier to surrender. So she moved to Toronto, trained with the police and got engaged to the first man who showed interest in her. And now this fantasy world she had built for herself was crumbling.

That was the worst part of it all. This wasn’t even what Brooke wanted. All of this was a masquerade. Brooke had lured all these people into this lie. That’s what she felt the most guilty about. Nina, Luke, her parents. People who are going to be hurt in the fallout. Tears begin welling up in her eyes. Her chest is heavy and it isn’t long before Brooke is choking back sobs. She falls back into the armchair, weeping to the soft hum of her father’s music.

…

Brooke awakens, weary-eyed and hazy, instantly drawn to the sounds of movement in the room. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, slowly opening them towards her father tidying up in the corner of the room. The album had come to a halt, needle caught spinning in the deadwax.

“Springsteen huh?” He holds up the cover to Brooke, grinning. Brooke sits herself up, limbs still tired.

“I just picked whatever.”

“You know,” her father slides the album between hundreds of others on the shelf, “We used to dance to this when you were little. Your mother hated it.”

“Yeah,” Brooke’s reply is soft, “I remember.”

Outside, the world has become dark. The sun had set and the stars were high above. Her father goes back to what he was previously doing, solemn with nostalgia. Of all the people she has hurt over the years, her father had taken it the hardest. In his eyes, Brooke would always be his little girl. And yet he knows everything Brooke has done.

“Your mother-,” there’s a beat, he turns towards his daughter, “and I, we think it’s best if you see someone again. I know you won’t like the idea-“

“I’m fine, Dad,” she hoists herself up, begins to walk towards him, “I don’t need a stranger to pry inside my mind.”

There was always this uncertainty around how Brooke would react. Every since she was young, Brooke had always lashed out in unexpected ways. It was her way of controlling things, taking everything out on herself. Entirely impossible to predict. By now, her father knew to approach things with caution or else prepare for the worst. If Brooke was heading on the path of self-destruction, nothing could stop her.

“Brooke,” he rests the palms of his hands on her shoulders, “You keep drinking the day away. I hear you awake at all hours of the night. I don’t think you have eaten a single meal since you’ve been home. What if you relapse? What if it’s worse? We’re just worried.”

“I’m not going to waste my time pouring my heart out to someone, just to tell me how much of a bad person I am. I already know that I’m a terrible person.”

“Just,” he presses a kiss on her forehead in between his words, “Think about it for me. Promise me?”

“Okay, I will.”

Looming over her, Brooke has all these promises she’s destined to break. Going to therapy, bringing her problems to light, sounded like the worst scenario. For now, Brooke carries this weight with her. There’s a million things demanding her attention that she will continue to keep repressed for as long as she possibly can. She needs something to stop the noise, even if it’s just for a minute. She just needs something.

…

When Brooke first enters the doors of the bar, it was as if she never left. In the two years since she had been home, the place had not changed in the slightest way. The jukebox booms over all the other noise in the room. Eerily empty, the sparse customers all focused on the hockey game playing silently on the TV. Brooke saunters up to the bar, leaning over towards the bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks please,” She asks politely, the bartender raising his eyebrow at the request. Brooke slides the money towards him.

“That’s not the kind of drink a pretty girl like you should be orderin’,” An older man calls from across the bar. The gathering of people around him snicker at the comment. Brooke rolls her eyes and knocks back her drink in a single gulp. She doesn’t flinch as it burns her throat.

“I’ll take another one please,” She smirks, the men on the other side of the room stop instantly. She could out-drink each and every one of them. Brooke perches herself on a stool, downing her second drink at a much slower pace. That’s something she didn’t miss about being single, the attention she would receive from men. Having a ring on her finger was enough protection. Men respected other men. They respected the concept of her husband more than they cared about the woman before her. Now she was exposed and vulnerable. A pretty unclaimed woman. The thought of it all made Brooke feel ill.

Hey, little girl, is your daddy home? 
Did he go away and leave you all alone? 
I got a bad desire.

Oh, oh, oh 
I’m on fire.

The melody of a familiar song begins playing in the background among the blur of chatter and clamouring of glass. Brooke empties her glass and orders a replacement. She looks back behind her briefly, caught off guard by a piercing glare in her direction. A woman sitting alone in a booth with caramel hair and dark eyes. Hauntingly beautiful. The eye contact causes Brooke to recoil, turning her head back to face the bar immediately. Brooke’s almost certain she’s still staring, burning her way through her skull. A part of her wants to turn back, take a good once over of this woman.

Tell me now, baby, is he good to you? 
And can he do to you the things that I do? 
Oh no, I can take you higher.

Oh, oh, oh 
I’m on fire.

A cacophony of drunken men erupt in song. It’s rowdy and loud, arms being thrown around shoulders in camaraderie. An average night in a small town bar. It distracts Brooke for long enough to forget about the mysterious woman behind her. Enamoured by the chaos. They sing and slosh their drinks around, whiskey and rum flooding the floor.

Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull
, And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull
. At night, I wake up with the sheets soakin’ wet
, And a freight train runnin’ through the middle of my head.

Tapping her foot against the stool, Brooke can’t help to hum along. She envisions her father joyfully spinning her around their living room, lifting her up high towards the ceiling. They slide around on the floorboards in their socks, jump around on the sofa while her mother is away. Her eyes are closed but Brooke is beaming, immersed in the song.


Only you can cool my desire.

Oh, oh, oh
 I’m on fire.

And as the song draws to a close, Brooke is brought slowly back to reality. She’s alone and slightly tipsy in public. The outro rings through her ears. The spontaneous karaoke is replaced by conversation. The room is back how it once was. Brooke curiously glances behind her.

The booth was completely empty. The woman was no longer there.

…

After a while, she slips out the front for a cigarette. The night air caresses her exposed skin. She’s dressed quite casually, ripped jeans and a baggy shirt that slouched down her shoulder. Brooke didn’t have the commitment to dress like she used to. It cost money and her precious time to look that way. She covers her cigarette to light it, inhaling sharply, exhaling the smoke into the night.

It was a bad habit, but not her worst by any means. While the thought didn’t necessarily thrill her parents or Nina, they gathered it was much better she smoked then binged on drugs or hurt herself again. Brooke liked the routine of it all. It was a meditative experience, taking time out of her day just for herself. Nina had argued that it was making time to slowly kill yourself, but the argument was lost on Brooke. She was always going to do what she wanted, regardless of what anyone had to say. On a good day, they were enough to keep her calm. On a bad day, well, they just came in handy.

Today, Brooke wasn’t entirely sure where she was at. The hours passed painfully slow. Maybe it was just the alcohol clouding her brain, but everything had felt almost like a dream. Dampening her brain with masses of alcohol had just saturated that feeling. Brooke couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. She was utterly surreal. It could have all been part of her imagination, a hallucination. But the fierce stare had penetrated straight into Brooke’s soul. The interaction had been so abrupt, had it been literally anyone else, it would have already slipped her mind.

But it lingers, and it burns.

If Brooke was smart, she would go home and sleep it off. Wake up in the morning, perhaps a little hungover, but at least with a clear mind. Her mind is foggy, just enough for her to keep pushing. She takes the final drags of her cigarette, stubbs the remainder into the wall and she steps towards the building’s door. Except as the door swings open, Brooke’s stopped in the tracks by a sudden force. She loses her balance temporarily as the other person curses in a raspy voice.

“Hey! Watch where you’re goin’.”

“I’m so sor-“ Brooke starts, as she looks up. Caramel hair. Dark eyes. Oh fuck.

Startled, both women step back. The other woman’s mouth agape, eyes wide. Deer in the headlights. Once she regains composure, Brooke restarts her apology.

“I’m so sorry, I should watch where I’m going.”

“Uh,” the woman stammers, “Don’t worry about it. I was just leavin’.”

Hurried, she pushes past her trying to escape. Brooke reaches out, in a rare moment of intoxicated bravery, and grabs her wrist gently. Her fingertips ignite at the feathery touch.

“Wait!” Brooke’s words come out shaky in confusion, hoping, praying that somehow she can get this woman to stay. Brooke was definitely intrigued, “Let me buy you a drink to apologise.”

“I-“ The woman pulls away, stuttering through her words, “I have to go.”

Swiftly, the woman disappears into the night. Left silent and astounded, Brooke is still. Illuminated in the neon light, wind hissing in her ear.

Brooke is on fire.

[velvetgons]

insecurity

junkyu x gender neutral reader

genres; angst, fluff 

word count; 6.2k 

song recs; home - seventeen and bloom later - jesse !!

warnings; mentions of cheating, insecurity, self-doubt, pls don’t read if you think this could make you feel insecure or bad abt yourself!!!, copious amounts of fluff, kissing (is that a warning?)

requested; yes!! thank you angel :) [requests are open] 

a/n; not much angst because uhh i am not so good at writing long angst oof

gif credit; hynsks on tumblr!! please tell me if you’d like it removed at any point :) 

His footsteps receded into dull thumps as you remained sprawled across the surface of the sofa in your living room. The TV continued to blare on in front of you, your eyes trained forward on it as you could already feel yourself begin to miss the presence of him beside you. You huffed softly, focusing on another mindless action sequence mid-way through a movie you didn’t care about, squinting as you watched the lead drop multiple stories of stairs to land perfectly on his feet. A scoff passed your lips as you mumbled out a realistically too-loud-for-when-you’re-alone, “Is that even actually possible?”

“Is what even actually possible?” You heard Junkyu’s voice call back in response, your head twisting to see that he must’ve been yelling from the kitchen, the living room still devoid of him.

You dropped your head back toward the screen in disappointment before yelling back a quick, “Do you think you could drop down six flights of a stairs and be, like, totally unaffected?”

You received a loud laugh in response, “I can’t even walk upstairs, so, I’d say no.”

Biting back the laugh bubbling up in your throat, you huffed dramatically before re-wording. “No, not you, I just mean, like, a person.”

“Am I not a person?” Junkyu called back, multiple clanging sounds as he attempted to put dinner into the oven for you both meeting your ears in harsh jolts.

You hummed just loud enough for him to hear, “Barely,” you called in a sing-song tone, hearing him gasp in response, “anyway, who cares about that, answer my question.”

He laughed again, a bright grin turning your lips up at the sound, almost wishing he wouldn’t actually stop to speak just yet. “I care about that,” he began, before another banging sound resounded through your apartment, “but, hm, yeah, I do think it’s possible.”

A far louder, more offended scoff passed your lips then, “Seriously? I don’t.”

“Obviously,” you heard him call in response, your grin spreading across your features as you heard the oven door finally open, “check, so I can finally be right about something.”

Your hands dropped onto the soft cotton of the sofa, fingers splaying out as you swiped your hands around in an attempt to find your phone. You lifted your hips off of the sofa in an ungracious check to see if it’d ended up underneath you, finding nothing again. Double-checking the coffee-table, you remembered rushing upstairs only twenty minutes ago to charge it after it’d died while you’d been showing Junkyu dumb cat videos you’d found late the night before.

“Can I use your phone?” You called back in inquiry, knowing already he’d say yes like you both always did.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be, like, two seconds, but go ahead.” Part of you felt suspicion bubble up at whatever he was still doing in the kitchen, the slight worry that he’d broken another almost impossible-to-break appliance hanging over you as you picked his phone up from the top of the table. You typed in his password without really thinking, his phone opening up to the picture of you and him from earlier that year, making you groan softly at the sight. It was one of his favourites – for evident reasons – he looked absolutely perfect, dressed well and smiling brightly at the camera; while you were wearing an oversized shirt of his, your hair messy from the day spent lounging around with him and Yedam, and you were caught off-guard, staring at him as if he was some kind of alien being.

Quickly moving onto opening the internet, you waited patiently for the home-page to load up, tapping your fingertips against the back of the phone. The sound of his text notification noise going off made you jump slightly, an embarrassed laugh passing your lips as you realised what it was. You’d usually ignore them, swiping them away as not to invade any sense of his privacy, but the sight of an unknown number peaked your interest. You pulled the text down to be able to read the whole thing, feeling your chest tighten at the words.

[19:28] unknown: I had so much fun today :) we definitely need to do it again soon, text me when she isn’t there and we can make more plans?

You breathed in sharply, feeling annoyance burst through you at yourself for jumping to conclusions. Breathing in deeply, you re-read the text, knowing it was probably nothing. It was probably a friend with a new phone, they probably weren’t doing anything bad, it was just bad timing to be catching one of their texts out of context.

Opening the message thread, you saw no more texts from the same number, sighing as you could already feel the likelihood of you obsessing over this growing. Just as you were about to close it and seek out Junkyu to get the asking him over with, another text came through.

[19:30] unknown: Just make sure she doesn’t find out!! We don’t want her knowing about this :) x

Junkyu dropped onto the sofa beside you, just as you closed the message thread to go back to the internet, your fingers stuttering over the keyboard. “So, who’s the smartest in this relationship, then?” You heard him ask, looking at you with raised brows.

You forced yourself to laugh in response, immediately feeling confusion at why you did that afterwards, “Wasn’t sure what to type, really.”

He laughed brightly, slipping the phone out of your hands before stopping and speaking again, “Oh, did I get a text? Thought I heard my phone go off.”

Humming softly you shrugged, “Uh huh, I clicked on it accidentally, but I went off it as soon I did. Sorry,” you mumbled softly, wondering if this would prompt him into anything.

He just shrugged, nodding, “It’s okay,” before his thumbs began tapping against his phone-screen again, “now, let’s see who truly is the intellectual here.”

           That had been a week ago now. You’d told him when he’d texted to tell you he’d gotten home safe that you weren’t feeling well, so you’d go to bed early and couldn’t respond to his texts. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed anything, telling you he hoped you felt better soon and to tell him if you needed anything.

Suffice to say, you weren’t feeling better soon. You’d been using this sudden and strange illness to avoid Junkyu and all of your other friends for the entire week, only daring to leave the safety of your apartment to go to school and work, grabbing small amounts of shopping on the journey back and forth. Rationally, you knew that isolating yourself and allowing your mind to spin different versions of a story you truly didn’t know any detail of would only aggravate the issue. But it was like you couldn’t stop yourself; the second he’d stepped out of that door, you’d began picking at the possibilities like a scab, trying to dig past the surface and figure out by yourself what was going on underneath.

Clearly, it had been slow work, the pressure of beginning to imagine and picture your boyfriend in a relationship with someone else behind your back had gotten to you enough to make solitude feel like the best option. Before, in the unusual instance of you and Junkyu arguing, you’d seek out a mutual friend, you’d rant and they’d know him enough to give you suggestions on how to fix it. It was the exact same thing he did in response to arguments with you. That was one of your favourite things about the two of you, the fact that you were able to put your stubbornness aside and figure things out together. This time just felt different. It didn’t feel like a matter you could take to a mutual friend and ask for an un-biased opinion on.

Slumping further back into your sofa with the blanket bound around you, you groaned in discomfort, feeling like your head had a heartbeat as you attempted to figure out what had to be the hundredth theory you’d come up with. This is, you noted, where things had evidently gone very wrong, turning in a direction you had first thought was unattached from the beginning picture of him cheating on you.

Every day when you woke up now, you’d feel an ever-growing and ever-painful need to stand in front of the full-length mirror and pick yourself apart, piece by piece. Over these seven sessions going in-depth on why Junkyu must no longer love you and be attracted to you and therefore feel a need to cheat on you, you’d come to conclude that perhaps that was a lot more wrong with you than you’d first imagined. Even when you’d been at your lowest with insecurities, you’d never thought that you weren’t worth anything. In fact, you were all about things being about more than looks, that was a thing you always spread around within your friendship group.

Now, though, things felt more difficult than they ever had. You stood in front of that mirror and stopped seeing a person worthy of love and respect and care, a person with worth and meaning. All you saw now was someone made entirely of flaws and imperfections, someone who didn’t have a single redeeming quality that someone could fall in love with.

You were sure that by now you could write someone a numbered list on all of the things that must have made Junkyu fall into someone else’s arms. You had decided that there was something wrong with your hairstyle, your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your cheekbones, your neck, your chest, your stomach, your arms, your hands, your thighs, your calves, even finding a way to choose multiple flaws in something as minuscule as your temples.

It was overwhelming, the constant crushing weight of feeling yourself rationalising the possibility of somebody cheating on you, on top of trying to give a timeline to events you couldn’t even be sure were genuinely happening. Your phone went off, alerting you both that someone was trying to get in contact with you again and that you were, indeed, crying again. Sniffling softly, you picked your phone up from the sofa, turning it over to see if it was Junkyu again.

[17:40] yedam: :(( are you still sick? If you are pls let me bring you some medicine…you’ve been sick for so long now

You felt your heart warm softly, the slight concern for making someone as sweet as Yedam anxious weighing down on your chest for a few small moments. Swiping at some of the tears still falling down your cheeks, you supposed that you should probably check the other constant loop of messages you’d gotten from friends – and namely, totalling up to over twenty from Junkyu – that you hadn’t responded to. Worry bit into you, although you couldn’t find the energy to give any of them a coherent response, you figured if you just told one of them they could circulate it around themselves and be content again.

[17:42] to yedam: yeah, i’m still not the best :(( sorry bub, but i promise i’m 100% fine!! i got myself some medicine today, i’ll be ready to go in a couple days

You sighed softly, preparing to drop your phone back face-down onto your sofa and go back to binge watching movies you’d already seen to make yourself feel better, however the sound of your phone dinging again you decided to check it again.

           [17:43] yedam: Oh my god!! A response!! I feel so special :)

          [17:43] yedam: Anyway…Junkyu’s been really stressed over this…maybe you should…you know, text him back

You felt the dramatic side of you flare up again, telling you that you should explain the situation to Yedam and have him help you in any way he thought he could. However, the rational side of you told you that he’d go right back to Junkyu to tell him everything you were thinking of. You felt like all of those people who said they were at, ‘the end of their rope,’ and you couldn’t even fully explain or figure out why you were so wound up.

More tears dripped down your face as you gave in, letting yourself lift your knees up onto the sofa and curl into yourself. Soft sobs left your lips as you reminded yourself that crying loudly was okay, because there was, as per usual nowadays, no one else here. Your phone dinged again, and again, going off a few times while you gave up on counting them, your sobs growing in volume. You let yourself continue on like this, feeling your breathing finally begin to even-out again as you reached over to curl your fingertips around your phone.

Lifting it closer to your face so you could check what the collection of texts had been. Your breathing that had just finished slipping back to a good, steady rhythm, it suddenly went off again, feeling as if your chest was being pressed down on again.

           [17:48] junkyu: you’re still sick?? is that why you haven’t been responding??

           [17:50] yedam: Okay I’m sorry but I told Junkyu you’re still sick

           [17:52] yedam: He’s just gonna come check up on you, ok? Don’t start worrying about how you look again bub I’m sure you look fine :) ily

         [17:57] junkyu: hi babe i’m kinda uh gonna be at ur place in 5 so pls open the door 4 ur favourite boy!!!

Coughing softly in an attempt to quicken the process of evening out your breathing, you checked the time, seeing it was already 6pm. You yanked yourself up to your feet, rushing down the hall to your bathroom and checking your splotched face. You fumbled, hands shaking as you gripped onto the cold steel of the cold tap and spun it, hearing the water splash against the sink as you closed your eyes and focused on pulling full breaths back into your lungs.

You took handfuls of the water and threw it onto your face, scrubbing it into your face and sighing when you saw the little it was doing to help clean up the evidence from crying on your face. Sparing a glance down to your outfit, you wished you could find the time to change, but you could already hear him knocking at your front door.

Heading back toward the front door, you could physically feel your heart moving up into your chest, your eyes clouding over with tears again of their own accord as you pulled the door handle down. Pulling the door open to reveal Junkyu, you almost let yourself cry again, feeling the mixed emotions clang together inside your chest and throat. Part of you wanted to cry at the relief of finally seeing him again, knowing you’d missed him more than you were ready to accept over the week, but the other part of you was reminding you that this was the boy who was going to break your heart.

“Baby!” He shouted, stepping into the apartment as he immediately swept you into his arms, locking them around your waist tightly as he tugged you impossibly close to him. “I wish you would’ve told me you were still sick sooner, I would’ve come.”

A pang of guilt ran through you at the sentiment behind his words, the feeling of knowing that he still cared for you rushing through you. Although, you pondered, could someone truly care about you if they were cheating on you, if they were doing something that would hurt you in the long run. You hummed in response, your arms curling themselves around him of their own consciousness.

He pulled back from you, his fingertips meeting yours and linking your hands together as he dragged you back in the direction of the living room. Seeing him navigate his way through the place you called home so confidently and naturally made an entirely different feeling wash over you, one of nostalgia and slight shame at the notion that you were lying to him purely because you doubted him so entirely. You weren’t entirely sure of what to do with yourself now that you had any lingering – or constant and overwhelming – negative feelings directed towards him. You’d never been caught in a position like this with him before, and now it left you wondering over how you were expected to act around the person you had definitively decided had cheated on you.

By the time you got far enough away from your thoughts to look at him confidently, you saw him smiling back softly, observing the way your face scrunched up in discomfort with worry ghosting on his features. “Do you think it’s a virus?” He began gently, keeping his voice low and whispered as if not to disturb a headache you didn’t really have.

His actions made you double-guess yourself, thinking back to what could now be construed as completely irrational threads of thought if he debunked them for you. The feeling of his hand coming to clasp yours warmly, gripping it within his own as he leant across to press a quick kiss to your cheek as if he was deeply concerned for you in your silence. Every piece of his actions made you desperate to flinch away, maybe in disbelief that this boy who was – in acceptance of the cheesiness of such a statement – literally made from honey with how sweet he was could possibly hurt you like this, or maybe more so for the belief that he’d see things you thought he’d fallen for, when in fact they could have been what ruined you. You could feel your hand begin to tremble as you felt the first salty trail of tears begin, wishing against all reality that they would just stop in their tracks before he noticed them.

Seven days’ worth of insecurity and shame smacked against you, washing over you like a wave and swallowing you up, spreading across your chest from the inside. You suddenly felt as if you were far too exposed, as if a hundred eyes were pointing at you like you had become some kind of exhibit. The examples of things to fixate on and hate about yourself suddenly sprung themselves to the forefront of your mind, your eyes shutting tightly as more tears fell against your mental protest. Insecurity had never, in all honesty, been something you had been good in any way at dealing with – perhaps, though, what you’d found comfort and honesty in before had been the things surrounding you, which, to your current dismay, must have always included Junkyu.

The weight of an arm wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you to be pressed safely against a sturdy chest made your heart speed up. Butterflies had been something you found yourself experiencing a lot with Junkyu, the knowledge that there was so much emotion and tenderness behind the small mundane actions always making you feel so swarmed with love. Now, though, the butterflies slammed against your rib-cage and made you feel like your head was pounding with some subdued panic you couldn’t fight.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed softly, pressing a flutter of feather-light kisses to your temple in order to calm your sobbing, “does it hurt?” He pressed forward, all the while tracing calming circles and minuscule hearts onto the skin of the hand still linked with his.

Your immediate reaction was to nod, and you found yourself doing so as your hands tightened around the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest to avoid the fear of him seeing you looking worse than you already pictured yourself. Your mouth opened and then closed again, and you found yourself scrambling to form a sentence of some kind that would summarise how you felt, what you were thinking, all the questions you had wanted to fire off at him since he’d left your apartment a week ago. But you just couldn’t find it within yourself, you couldn’t find the ability to question him when you were so sure you already knew why a boy like him would do this to a girl like you.

“Can I get you something, baby? Where does it hurt? Do I need to call someone?” Junkyu’s voice had risen slightly, making you wonder if you’d missed something he’d said in a haze while you fought to keep yourself hidden despite his protest. He seemed to be trying to figure out how bad you were feeling from looking at your face, but the panic that rose within you at the prospect of him doing so made your hold around him tighten.

His rush of panicked questioning only made the pit of confusion in your stomach open up further, and you couldn’t quite find a safe conclusion for all the things you were feeling at once. For a moment, his movements completely stilled, before he softly pushed you away from him, your body not having the strength to cling onto him any longer. As you slipped away from his body, his arms still firmly locked around your waist, you kept your eyes trained downwards, avoiding ever catching his eyes directly.

“Baby,” he began cautiously, “is…is something really wrong? Are you, like, badly sick? Do I need to definitely call someone?” The pure fear and apprehension tightened behind his words made the knot form itself back up in your throat, threatening to cover over the previous track of tears once again.

Shaking your head lightly, you knew that you didn’t have any room to manoeuvre a story in your favour anymore, that it was time to finally confess what was going on in your head to him. A searing jolt ran through you then, seeing the words tumbling past your chapped lips acting as a kind of finish line, as a brick wall on everything you’d built with Junkyu for the time ahead of you both.

“I’m not…Junkyu, I’m not sick.” You choked out, making sure to avoid looking into his eyes, knowing the moment you did would be the moment you lost all the strength to continue this conversation with him.

He tilted his head at you, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion, “What’s, what’s been wrong then?” For a moment, he stopped to wonder over something, before one of his hands found their way to cup your jaw, tilting your head upwards to look at him, “Why couldn’t you tell me there was something wrong?”

This question, although he didn’t know the meaning you were reading behind it, slapped you across the face. In all honesty, you knew you couldn’t be angry with him if he walked away from this, even if he had been entirely faithful, even if you were broken down by now, you couldn’t be angered by any reaction he had if he wasn’t at fault, because it was a painful thing to be accused of. You wondered what was worse – being accused of cheating on the person you loved most and were entirely faithful too, or feeling the need to accuse the person you loved most and trusted entirely of cheating.

“I’d have helped, whatever it was, you know that, right?” He questioned, his voice filling the silence and the hollow in your chest. At this, you searched across his face, trying to see if there was anything that could give you an answer before you dived head-first into the deep end of a conversation you didn’t ever want to have with him.

You exhaled softly, closing your eyes and willing the lump in your throat to just disappear, or maybe you were just wishing someone somewhere could give you some kind of extra emotional strength in that moment. “Junkyu, I, can I ask you a question? One that’s probably not…the nicest, I guess. I just…I need you to be completely honest when you answer me.”

Watching him intently, you observed the way he seemed to hesitate at the request. This immediately came across as a bad sign, a red flag that whatever his answer was it had to be picked at, it had to be torn apart until you could twist it into something you could believe. However, he nodded afterwards, swallowing thickly as his hands adjusted to slip more of your balled up fist into it, allowing you to feel the warmth of his palm as he tightened his hand back around yours.

You basked in this action, wondering if it would be the last time you’d get to feel his hand in yours. “Okay, I…” you sighed, moving your free hand to rub at your tired eyes before beginning again. “Are you cheating on me?” Once the words had actually left your mouth, the notion of not finding the confidence or the will to say them beforehand seemed almost comical. The easiness and fluency behind saying such a simply string of words and not thinking about the weight the order of them held was almost too funny to imagine being a difficult task.

At this, Junkyu recoiled, his mouth dropping open as his eyes narrowed at the space around, as if the words had become a physical thing he could see floating tauntingly in the air around him. “I, am I what? Why would…why do you even believe, for a second, that I even could do something like that to you?” The words left him in a jumbled, loud mess, but you knew what he was getting at.

How could you ever actually accuse him of cheating on you? What had made you believe that he had the ability to complete such a cruel act in the first place? If you were going to bring up the texts, you knew it had to be then. It was strange thinking about the concept now, your only proof and backing behind such a bold idea being two short texts that had popped up on his phone, that you could easily have asked him about seconds after you saw them. And now, you sat across from him, an entire week later, spewing a question that had so little to hold it up directly to his face.

“Junkyu, I, I saw some texts on your phone, from this…unknown number. And I get it, you probably think I’m overreacting, but they were weird texts, and I didn’t feel good about them.” You rambled, your empty hands now knotting together to tug at the fingers of each other in an attempt to escape the sheer anxiety building up inside you.

He looked confused for a moment, like he truly didn’t have any idea what you were talking about. “What, last week?” You nodded in response, dropping the eye contact as he huffed in response. “It’s been seven days! Why didn’t you just ask me about them if you felt weird about it? I would’ve answered!”

“You’re not answering now!” You scoffed, finally finding the courage to look up at him as he tilted his head at you in a lost manner again. Something about his actions made him seem almost childlike, as if there was no way possible he should be involved in a moment like this one.

He raised his hands to push his hair back out of his face, “Okay, okay, fine, I just, I don’t,” he paused to breathe in shakily, “you told me you didn’t see them.”

“Would it have been better if I didn’t? Are you…actually hiding something, Junkyu?” Your voice cracked at the end, the foreknowledge that he’d start crying soon under the pressure and strain of the argument starting to get to you.

You heard a small sniffle before he continued, “Well, I mean, yeah, but not for the reason you think it is, I…you, just, you lied to me, you know? I wish you would’ve just told me, baby. This isn’t…it’s not what you think it is.”

Having watched a lot of drama movies in your life, you knew that line was straight out of a cheater’s handbook. But, as he’d said earlier, looking at it in a full picture, did you really believe that Junkyu was genuinely able to do something like that? You weren’t so sure anymore, but the insecurity and fear inside of you was beginning to nip at your skin again, leaving you in an uncomfortable position of not even understanding your own logic.

“Then, what is it, Junkyu? I know I…I lied to you, I know, I just, I was scared. And I know you are, too, but if you did it…I get it, okay, I really do.” You breathed out, feeling a few stray tears escape to make their way down from your eyelashes only to be swiped at by the sleeve of your jumper.

At this, he seemed to jump as if you’d yelled at him, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to string together a sentence. “What are you talking about? You’d get it? Why…why would you understand someone doing something like that to you?”

“I didn’t say someone, I said you,” you began softly, a bitter laughing bubbling past your lips, “you’re, you know, you, and I’m, well I’m not exactly anywhere near your level, am I?”

Junkyu visibly startled, staring wide-eyed at you, looking more offended than when you’d posed your initial question. “I…baby, okay, um, let’s, take this one step at a time, alright?” You looked at him sceptically for a quiet second, nodding your head softly as he swiped harshly at the first tear to slip down his cheek.

“I didn’t cheat on you, okay? I wouldn’t. I’m, to be honest, I’m a little offended you think I’d ever do that, but, it’s, I can understand why it looks bad.” He fumbled about in the back pocket of his jeans for a second, pulling his phone forward so you could see it, skimming to tap in his password before re-opening the message thread again. Briefly, you wondered if this was something you actually wanted to see, but you knew you’d have to put your faith back in Junkyu as some point soon. He swiped up from a couple of messages, allowing you to briefly see the name had been changed to a saved contact, but you couldn’t read the screen from the angle you were at.

He turned the screen toward you, prompting you to read whatever was on it, as you took it from his hands. Your eyes skimmed across the messages as you felt your stomach rise from the pit it had been slumped into for the week behind you, although the guilt at your actions seeped into its place soon after.

The contact name simply read, ‘Mashi ♡.’ The texts underneath the one’s you’d seen all followed basic format, with normal day-to-day conversations and dumb jokes, Mashiho always finishing off the texts with little kisses or smiley faces. You were sure, from knowing him a while beforehand, that he did this with nearly everyone at some point or another during a conversation.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, “What…what was he talking about, then? It, just, I’m sorry, I just, I don’t understand, am I missing something?”

Junkyu chuckled softly, his eyes watery as he looked directly at you, “Yeah, uh, I wasn’t really supposed to tell you but, given the circumstances…we’re kind of, planning a surprise trip for you.” He shrugged, eyes leaving yours in an almost boyishly shy manner that you wouldn’t have expected to see from his earlier demeaner.

“A what?” You asked, a blush curling up to your cheeks as you looked down, unsure if the sudden bashfulness within you was from the embarrassment at your accusations or the sweetness behind their actions.

Junkyu hummed again, “You’ve just been stressed a lot lately, you know? So, we wanted to give you a break, take you somewhere nice, but…I know you hate planning trips, so we wanted to keep it a secret so it didn’t make things worse.”

You dropped your face into your hands, guilt flooding through you as you noticed just how kind both him and Mashiho were being about a situation you had no idea about. “Mashi just got a new phone, he, he asked me to give you his number but I forgot and then you got sick and I, I was gonna give it you when you were better.”

His ramble made you look up again, seeing his swipe at his cheeks again as he noticed the tears falling freely down your face for what seemed to be the millionth time that week. His hands moved to quickly cup your face, thumbs swiping tears away as he shook his head, “Don’t, don’t cry, it’s, I’m not angry, I’m a little upset, but, it’s okay, we’re okay, okay? Can you…can you tell me it’s okay? I just wanna fix this.”

Seeing his tears fall faster, you moved the fabric of your jumper to cover your hands and moved them to mirror his actions, swiping the sweater paws to catch the tears as they fell. He laughed lightly, smiling at you as grinned back at him, your head falling onto his shoulder at how ridiculous the situation seemed now. “There’s nothing to fix, I…I should’ve just asked, I’m so sorry, you know, I, I should never have let myself believe you could do that to me, or anyone.”

At this, he cleared his throat, rousing you from his shoulder and back into his line of sight. “We need to talk about what you said earlier, yeah?” You swallowed nervously before nodding, feeling his hands tug you up and into his lap. “I…can’t even begin to explain how wrong you are,” he mumbled, “how long have you been thinking like this?”

“Not long, I promise,” you began, watching as he seemed to breath out a sigh of relief, “I just, ever since I saw the texts, I guess. I just feel like I’m never gonna be able to be on the same…level as you, you know? I’m never gonna be good-looking enough for you, or have the perfect enough body type for you, I’m just never gonna be enough for you.” You said softly, your voice dropping into almost silence as you spoke.

Junkyu stayed quiet for a few minutes, as if trying to process and then understand the words being spoken to him. “No.” He said after you could feel the air begin to grow thick with apprehension of his answer.

You rose your eyebrows at him, “No?”

“You’re wrong.” He concluded, nodding once at you as if to lock the fact into your brain.

Unsure of how to argue with him on this, you simply sighed, “Junkyu, I, it’s okay. I’m okay just, being with you for as long as you need to find someone who’s…enough.”

Junkyu jolted underneath you, his hold on you seeming to tighten as his face curdled in disgust at your comment. “Baby…” he began against, his voice laced with weighed down sadness and panic, “that’s not, you shouldn’t ever lower yourself to think that way.” Just as you opened your mouth to confirm that in your mind, this was just a line in the sand, something you wouldn’t be able to cross with him for however long he stayed with you.

“No,” he interrupted your thoughts again, even gentler than before, “just, listen for a second, hm?” He waited a beat for you to nod in confirmation before beginning, “You’re enough. Not just for me, though, okay? You’re…hard-working, strong, smart, determined, kind, and…so, so much more, I don’t even have the words to begin describing you, you know? You just…you inspire me so much, and you don’t even know it. Everything you do is so beautiful and powerful and, don’t even get me started on your looks because I could talk all day. If you’re enough for yourself, then you’re far more than enough for me.”

You knew you were crying by the time he finished speaking, his hands had began flailing to hammer in just how specific he was being, his eyes shifting all around the room. When he finally looked back at you, a soft and shy smile turned the corners of his mouth up, his hands moving to swipe your tears away.

“Happy tears?” He checked, stooping his head down lower so he could finally look into your eyes again.

You nodded at him, a laugh falling past your lips, your head dropping further into his palm pressed to your cheek, “Happy tears,” you confirmed softly.

A bright smile lit up his features as he leant himself upwards slightly, his hand resting on your jaw bringing you close enough that your noses were touching, lips hanging centimetres apart from one another. “I know you say I don’t have to this anymore,” he began, making a laugh tumble past your lips again, “but, you know, can I kiss you?”

You nodded, your lips falling from their smile as he pressed his own against yours. The kiss was soft, his lips moving slowly and sweetly against yours as he dropped a single hand from your face to grab at one of the hands laid flat against his chest, curling his fingertips back around it. You felt his lips move upwards into a small as you squeezed his hand in response, you mirroring his action as he tightened his hand around yours in response.