#ill sneak lyrics anyway i can

[hershey-the-person]

wouldve couldve should've said no

[cj-6]

Xdinary lore

I'm excluding performance videos here for obvious reasons, and I generalized the b-sides sometimes as they do not always add much to the plot. This does not include interpretation of the lyrics.

Freakin' Bad

Remember Hair cut? In one of the last scenes we saw that ♭form submitted XH's files to be up for review. Where does Freakin' bad start? At the police department.

They do have been caught for another reason, but this is just a cover up; XH has been framed so that ♭form can catch them without raising suspicion. We see in the following frame that there is evidence on a police table, stating the following: 'The group XH did something dangerous at the mall [busking]. These items are dangerous evidence obtained by the police from the shopping mall.'

However, these are not really big crimes at all. Where Hair Cut is the attempt of ♭form to destroy XH, Freakin' bad is the attempt to catch them.

As much as I'm trying to explain the plot I need to place a recommendation that watching this MV frame by frame is so cool. There are so many transitions and drawn layers that are super easy to miss when you're not focusing properly.

Anyways there are a couple of scenes, mixed with some performance scenes, that show that the group has been vandalizing some things at the mall, and them being put up for question for it. After the first chorus we see XH getting arrested.

Then the story continues with the boys getting transferred (I think from police station to jail) in the back of a big truck.

Then they just go ham with their instruments in the back of the truck lol. The truck drives over a police stinger and everyone just floats in the air in slomo (you can definitely tell they were just doing things for fun in this MV). So after their escape we instantly see breaking news from a small TV being played. It's live news announcing that XH is missing. This scene is also quite hilarious because once it zooms out we see that the members are watching this news at a record shop while like giggling and kicking their feet.

This music shop they also leave behind wrecked. This next shot is another one of those where they sneak in their name into the frame. But we see them all walking through this gate thing whilst the alarm is blaring.

This MV definitely has less small details to look into, and gives the story quite plain to us. To wrap up talking about it, Freakin' bad is the point in the storyline where ♭form is trying to contain XH. After being framed they also get caught, but ultimately escape and are then considered as wanted criminals on the loose. Freakin' bad is also a very natural progression from Hair cut, as they questioned themselves there they now are apologetically and confidently themselves.

Good enough + Dear H.

First of all the reason why I think they have MVs in the first place is not because it relates much to the plot, but just to promote the songs more, as they were popular b-sides (and my faves as well) and that's just smart from a marketing standpoint. However I will try to read into it a little bit to see if I can make it coherent with the rest.

As you may know, both of these MVs match each other in storyline (as they are both heartbreak-like songs) and are very differently filmed to all the title tracks. The focus of both videos is to portray emotion much more than anything else. It is all very natural, no flashy editing, and a lot of the scenes are filmed in nature. This leads me to believe all of this is happening outside of ♭form, aka in the real world. Though I do still want to mention that even in the real world the members are playing characters. They might bear their name but it still is a personality with traits that are created by directors and such. This idea I really felt like mentioning as it is also quite prevalent in the making films for these MVs.

Also small mention Jun Han fell ill during the shooting of these MVs so it could be that they had to change directory a bit because of that. I'm still very happy he's in Dear H. at least.

But let's analyze some of the scenes.

Throughout Good enough, we see a clear theme related to waves. Which is because Gun il wrote a poem when he was in college at some body of water, and used this feeling to write this song (together with Young K from Day6). This water theme is carried through each of the individual scenes from the members, with most being filmed at sea.

There are two locations for each member. In Good enough we mostly see them individually and in Dear H. we mostly see the other location, which is this classroom. The members all bring something from their individual shots to the classroom. For example, Gaon brings in the plant that was in the room we saw him in before.

This might have some deeper meaning in relation to the lyrics, though that's not something I want to dig into right now, maybe later on.

Dear H. is a song of appreciation Jun Han wrote to the other members. Throughout both MVs we see that he is the person recording the others. For the MVs they used the idea of recording the members as a way to translate the feeling of admiration.

Some of the shots of both MVs have a filter to look like vintage film. This is the embodiment of that idea.

Especially once the song has ended, we get in Dear H. shots of Jun Han which really emphasize that we are looking through his gaze.

I of course adore these videos so much. Though they do not add onto the lore specifically. I think one of the reasons behind this is that they are also b-sides. If I try to see it from a lore perspective they are a breath of relief from all the chaos of ♭form.

Break the Brake + PLUTO

If you have read my album titles analyzation, you will know that Livelock refers to a version of deadlock, where processes are stuck because of conflict between components with shared resources. What's different about it though, is that instead of halting the system, Livelock causes it to be stuck in a loop.

And what is the plot of Break the Brake? The members are caught by some police and are transported by train, but this train and everyone on it is stuck in a time loop, which they can only escape by getting to the front of the train and breaking the brake. This will result in the train driving through the eye of the storm, which are both ways to represent overcoming challenges.

I believe the plot is very intentionally related to Freakin' bad (by this I mean the cops catching XH), as that is the title track of Deadlock and they want to create a version of this in Livelock as well, but then it is stuck in a time loop.

We have indication of this time loop in a couple ways, but mostly by the scenes being repetitive (and starting with a close up shot of Gaon) and the clock on the wall, which reads 04:04.

Interestingly enough, I don't have much screenshots or storyline to share about this one. The only thing I understand from it I kind of already explained. There are some things that I'm still unsure of in terms of meaning, so I will discuss those instead.

Couple current questions:

Why is technology so behind all of a sudden? I understand that all of ♭form is different, and that we could blame it on a different ensemble space, much like how videos games have different environments, but it is a little unsatisfactory as an answer. I think it also had to do with matching the vibe of the MV to the concept of the album, but then anything related to racing could have worked. The main thing I suspect is that they pulled their inspiration from is the lyrics, that mention tracks and such quite a bit.

Why do we see and engine breaking during some of the last scene in BTB? It could just be a filler shot yet it feels to specific to add. This is one that I can't really explain yet. The only thing I can think of is that this moment is the key cause of the whole system breaking down.

We also see a cop car chasing the train we're on. And from the MV reaction video for BTB we kind of have affirmed this is the car that is also seen at the very end of Freakin' bad (I did not mention it in that part so I'll compensate for that here). The problem is that for one of the MVs we see it from the front and for the other from the back, which makes it a bit difficult to see.

From the one on the top we can read on the license plate 'XH HERO', which makes a lot of bells ring in my head with the intention here. From the one on the bottom we can read on the side that it's a traffic enforcement unit, which are units placed preemptively on the road to reduce accidents. So it could also have been a stylistic choice to let it return. It also very well a possibility that this cop car is stolen by someone, and is on XH's side, trying to get them off that train and acting as a getaway driver. But this I can't say for sure.

Another thing I was questioning myself is why XH performs at the indoor train stop, but I think it is very simply because they want to have multiple performance shots, and the outfit change is also a visual kind of relief (or interest, not sure of my wording here but hopefully you get what I'm saying).

This is a nice segway into the next part I did want to talk about. And it is the spoiler, which is kind of the total start of my interest for their story line and a cool spoiler for Troubleshooting, which I was able to catch before the announcement of that new album.

When you watch the MV making film for Break the Brake, multiple members will hint at you to look on the train information board on the left wall (in the picture above). The only time you will have the most text in clear view is actually right at the beginning of that video. I will give the shot here and explain the spoiler on it.

What we're focusing on is the schema on the right here. I have another picture where you can read it just a little better.

So on the top we see 04:26 (April 26th is the release date of Deadlock), and then the album title and title track name for those. And believe me on this one but there is also a column on the right with the number 23, which indicates the year of release. Then we have the exact same for Livelock. And then below we have 04:04, with the possible album title Trouble Shooting and title track Location Not Found, with in the right column the number 24.

If we fill this up with our current knowledge we know that Troubleshooting will be released on April 30th, and that the title track was indeed unknown at the time of Livelock.

To summarize all of this MV again, XH gets caught after being on the loose and are transferred by train, though it is stuck in a time loop. The members break this loop. The system of ♭form has been completely destroyed, which ultimately mean Xdiz has no place to interact and that connection between the members is lost.

Music videos #1 << Music videos #2 >> Music videos #3

[lovinggreeniehours]

1, 3, 6 and 7 from the playlist ask for arifer? :0 (@comfortingstars)

okay i tried my best not to ramble all the way to 10k words jfshkgdhjfdg

1. a song that plays over when they first see/meet each other

surprisingly i do not have a song for that. to be honest hfshkjfsdghj they didn't think much of each other when they first met i think. my general playlist is 100h so im not scrolling that to check 😭

ill go with problems - hey violet 🤔 it works well enough for the first few annoying weeks of knowing each other. also sexual tension. because. they're made of that i think hfsfjjfdgjgdgjfdfhh

3. song that represents when they're dreaming of the other

the one i thought of first was the great war - taylor swift, but only for this one specific lyric

the rest of the song doesn't super fit though because it's about something else. so. hm. let's go with bodybag - chloe moriondo <3

6. song they'd dance to together

okay this i can do >:) they have an entire room of music records, as well as a wall in their bedroom. most, courtesy of lucifer, but over time takahara began adding his own to the mix. there are a lot of them, but recently i've been thinking about this one in particular: only love can hurt like this - paloma faith

it's very slow movement, so they don't have to worry much about the steps. they can just move around lazily and talk about whatever. it's kind of ironic (in a nice way <3) to have a song like this play to their dance long after they've passed that stage of their relationship

7. song that represents their uncertainty

better - gracie abrams!!!! this one is for a specific part in the timeline! it's in between the first and second season after the siblings went back to the human world. at the time, the siblings were unaware of the possibility that they'd be able to come back to the devi.ldom, so arifer had ended their little situationship, however bad it was at the time

the other demon brothers all took turns going to the human world to visit the siblings :') but! luc.ifer did not, because it wasn't allowed and his brothers never told him they were sneaking up there. and besides takahara, he didn't really have much reason to. but "arion hated his guts" 🤡 and "arion would never want to see him after everything" so he didn't entertain the idea. regardless, he did continue to work in order to give the exchange program a second year. not because he wants to see takahara. obviously. he just. needs to help dia.volo achieve his dream. duh. there's no other reason-

meanwhile, takahara took their "breakup" kind of nicely. because they didn't end in a complete trainwreck. there was almost some.. remorse. in that conversation. but he supposed it had to end somewhere, and he made his peace with it. but idk when all the demon brothers kind of showed up at their doorstep while luc.ifer didn't even text him. well 🤡 he's not offended. obviously. he didn't even miss him. he's happy he's happy without him. clearly 🤡

anyway thank goodness for season 2 🥳 hwdbjjhfdfhjgddghhdddh

[galactic-pirates]

Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

Thanks for the ask! :) :)

19) Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it. Part of me wants to skip this and substitute another question but I am working on some art for the Librarians exchange at the moment. That has to be secret but I don't think it's too much of a #Spoiler to do one line like

"Librarians win with what they know - not magic!"

36) How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

I'm quite fond of song titles to be honest. Not usually lyrics, or not formatted as such anyway.

Another place I have looked for titles are episode titles. Not for the show I am writing for usually, but from any show I have watched and liked. I used to keep a text file with a list of titles I had seen that I liked, and when titling a fic I checked that list first to see if anything fit.

Sometimes there is a line in the fic, or the prompt that inspired the story, that just demands a certain title.

As for the one I'm most proud of? Monstrare, Monere perhaps. A Warehouse 13 oneshot. The actual fic itself I am a bit meh about after all this time, but the title and summary I am like "I wrote that?" I also really like and the Sins of Atlantis. Totally self-indulgent ridiculous fic which I enjoy more than I should. It uses the same episode title structure as the Librarians show (I did that for all my prompt month fics that year, which I loved). I particularly like this one though as I feel like there's so many layers to it. Sins - so evocative, so many questions. Atlantis - how? why? I don't know. It was fun.

(Under the cut for the writing advice because despite making myself stick to just one point, I still went on a lot. Oops.)

28) Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing? Ooooh boy ok. The answer is both lots, and nothing, because writing is very individual. I can advise based on what works for me but it's so much a YMMV situation. I always feel like any writing advice needs to be prefaced with this.

So I don't write an essay (and I probably will anyway) but I will stick with just one point so it's not thousands of words. It's actually something I read once and no it isn't the classic "I can fix a bad page not a blank page" (which is also good advice btw). It's actually a point I super hated for a long time and that is probably why I have forgotten where I read it, so I apologise for the lack of attribution. The quote was something like - "Write what you want to have written, not what you want to write." Now that's crazy talk right? Well yeah, and I hated it, but I see the wisdom in it now.

Now a personal anecdote to illustrate the point. Writing fanfic brought me joy. I loved the plots coming together, how I could sneak in references. I don't know if this is egotistical to admit but I still re-read my old fic sometimes - I was my own intended audience - and I love it. However, I have original novel ideas. I have a dream of publishing. It's a future that I would like to build. Possibly just a fantasy but it's a dream that I've held for decades and it scares the hell out of me. Writing novels is hard. It's facing the fear of never being good enough every day, and making myself do the work anyway. Writing fanfic is so much easier and (for me) it became a way to self-sabotage.

Now I owe fanfic a tremendous debt because it has broken through writers block, it has given me soooooo many ideas that I have mutated into something else entirely. Don't ever think I don't respect fanfic but I'm chronically ill and I only have a limited amount of spoons. I have written novel-length fanfic and pouring weeks/months into a fanfic, was weeks/months I wasn't spending on my original work and I hated myself for that. I was writing something that I really wanted to write but even in the middle of the process I was sometimes like "what am I doing???" and questioning my life choices. I love my fanfic ideas and I get so nostalgic sometimes for the ones on my list that I never got round to writing.

Fanfic was something I desperately wanted to write, but it was not what I wished to have written. It brought me short-term joy for long-term anguish if you like.

So my point - my writing advice - is essentially a riff off "life is short". Be damn sure before you invest so much of yourself creatively in a story (whatever that story might be), that you won't get hit by regret later. It's so easy with fandom events: exchanges, bingos, prompt months etc. to get bursts of inspiration and giddy FOMO, only to get months down the road and wish you hadn't happened that earlier WIP.

We all have a story to tell right? So don't write what you think will get you kudos/comments. Write what is in your heart to write. Not some surface level impulse, but what you will be proud to have committed to a year down the road.

I can't bring myself to regret any of my fanfics. Hell as I said I enjoy reading them. But I had to stop so my energy could be focused in a direction that brought my longer-term peace, rather than short-term joy.

Fandom can be a fickle place, and also playing in someone else's sandbox can turn to ash. When a show has gone in a direction I can't follow, or when there's drama in the fandom, it has stolen my joy. I suppose what I'm really get is with writing, it's a creative journey, it's pouring so much of your soul into something. Protect your mental health. Invest yourself wisely.

Write with joy.

[cryptic-symbols]

Tmg ask game:

Ontario & Jaipur!

Galesburg!!! Coroner’s Gambit!!! Yesssss!!!

ontario: banger. I had listened to this song before but never closely and damn. this goes hard. this hits…. this is a song that I will choose to see through the lens of having ptsd even tho its probably about how everything in life reminds you of the person you’re missing, the person who said they knew you better than you knew yourself. which. damn. cool, but not relatable!

this song reminds me of ptsd and psychosis: of triggers.

I thought I knew what my weaknesses were anyway

And then the orange tree blossomed last Saturday

And there was nothing in it but pain for me

man. literally the most innocuous and even beautiful things can be reminders of the pain you’ve felt, can set you outside reality. and make you question everything. and they fuckin sneak up on you too, quiet and slow, until boom. you’re not in the present moment you’re only thinking about the pain. your favourite records and your favourite books should be safe havens but they make you feel bad and wrong and it hurts really bad. yeah. its never the things you expect either.

jaipur: BANGER. I really really like this song. you’re sending me the songs that make me think of my mental illness!!! man. I’m gonna do two sets of lyrics for this one because I can’t Pick!!!

I was having visions of sugar pastry

Cooked up in clarified butter

I’ve had a lot of hallucinations of baked good smells so this feels targeted but also the imagery is so…mmm. wow. yes.

Yeah, I came to the gates of the fabled pink city

Hungry and tired and mad as hell

Swing low, sweet jewel-encrusted chariot

Make me young again, make me well

I’m so ill and I have been for a while, and I’m mad (insane) and mad (furious) so fix me!!! let me go back and be a child again and have a chance to experience the wonders of being naive and innocent that were taken from me. take away my pain. fix me! I want to be fixed and I’m desperate to be fixed!

I love the juxtaposition of this tired, ill, desperate narrator and these opulent things: a fabled pink city, a jewel-encrusted chariot. these are riches of imagination our narrator strives for, the riches of wellness, of contentment and salvation. but its also unimaginable to him that anything less could fix him or save him: he needs a miracle, he needs heaven.

[kittyprincessofcats]

My favourite Eurovision entries 2023 (pre-Grand Final)

Okay so before the final I still wanted to talk about my favourite entries this year so far (important - please note that these are my opinions before the final and they might change upon seeing all performances again, etc.)

One thing I want to say this year in general is that I don’t really have a clear, outstanding favourite. There are entries I like that I would describe as “good”, but nothing that I would describle as “absolutely outstanding, clearly the winner”.

(For instance, last year ‘Stefania’ so clearly blew everything else out of the park that it was a no-brainer for me - and of course like many other people I voted three times as often as usual in solidarity with Ukraine, which is not a bad thing.)

But this year, I don’t really have that feeling for any entry. Many good ones, but nothing that I would describe as “clearly the best one”.

Anyways, enough rambling. Here are the entires I like, in no particuar order:

- Austria. A song about a writer possessed by the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe. What’s not to love?

- Finland. Do I need to explain this one? They just understood the assignment.

- Norway. It’s just so freaking catchy, such a good melody and such an epic feeling, I love it!!! (Also Norway is still owed a victory from that time the juries stole KEiiNO’s win - No, I’m still not over it and I never will be.)

- Moldova. Apparently every year there needs to be one mythical/witch-y song and this is this year’s. I love it! (Also, if I’m being salty about jury robberies already: Moldova was last year’s real runner up, so if anyone should be hosting “on behalf of” with Ukraine, it should be them.)

- Croatia. An anti-Putin anti-Lukashenko song, but with lyrics that are so abstract and symbolical that they can only be understood through several lenses of analysis, therefore cleverly sneaking past Eurovision’s “no politics allowed” rule. Also the singers are aparently activists for women’s rights, LGBTQ+ rights and against the Catholic Church. Amazing. - My only critisism of this song is that the lyrics describing (what I’m assuming is) Putin as a “psychopath” demonizes people with psychopathy and similar mental illnesses. I get that they probably couldn’t say “genocidal dictator & war-criminal” because of the “no politics” rule, but there was still probably a better word to use there. Still a song I love, but I just wanted to point that out.

- Ukraine. Dear Ukrainians... listen, we need to talk. How come you guys are just so freaking amazing and talented that you’re incapable of sending any bad songs to Eurovision? Huh? What do you have to say for yourselves? Okay no, seriously: When I first heard Heart of Steel, I wasn’t that impressed. My feelings were kind of “Yeah, this is okay, but also a bit boring.” But then I listened to it again and suddenly the entire next day, I had that song stuck in my head. Several times, I was like “What’s this song I keep singing to myself? Oh, it’s Heart of Steel.” Yeah, basically first impressions are often wrong and it really grew on me quickly. I also find the lyrics of staying strong and keeping going even in the face of hatred and “a world on fire” very inspiring - very obviously related to Ukraine’s situation and the war, but I also feel like this song (and through it, the bravery of Ukrainian people in general) can inspire all of us to stay strong no matter what life throws at us. Amazing message.

And yeah, that’s it. No, Loreen’s not on this list and I was frankly shocked to find out she’s supposedly the favourite to win... like, it’s not a bad song by any means, but frankly, I heard it once in the semi-final and have already completely forgotten it since then, so...

Oh yeah also, as a German I just want to say - I’m not going to include our own entry on this list because that’s up for all of Europe to judge (and I also haven’t listened to the full song yet so I can’t quite say if it would make this list), but I just want to say I’m glad we finally sent something that’s at least not boring.

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[maplecornia]

chapter 11

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.89K

��𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: i super DUPER love this chapter, it's a BIG climax for the story

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine |@fangirl125reader |@kookiebbyxx |@taradevonne

Taehyung didn't mean to fall asleep.

When RM mentioned he was working on a new demo during practice today, he just had to listen to it. Namjoon, however, being the perfectionist he is, told Tae he couldn't listen in just yet. There was a certain point in the sound that he wasn't confident and still had to fix. Taehyung dropped it (after multiple moments of begging and pleading) and tried to forget about it for the rest of the day.

However, what with you showing up at the studio and his incessant curiosity, he just had to hear Namjoons song. It was like dangling a piece of bacon in front of a dog's nose, he just had to have a taste.

He planned to sneak in, sneak out, and have nobody know the wiser. Of course, like so many things, this did not go according to plan.

Unbeknownst to him, he entered the studio a few moments after you and RM hurried out of there, from the opposite side.

He listened to the song, before trying to find what RM could have possibly thought was bad about it.

Soon enough, the beautiful track had lulled him into a peaceful slumber.

Now, his head rests on his shoulder, as he slumps in the chair.

His face is slack, peaceful, his eyes fluttering as he dreams sweet dreams. His long eyelashes cast dark shadows over his cheeks, his hair fluttering with each breath. Thick and soft despite the natural curl that occurred after dancing for so long. He still has the slick shine that sweat leaves behind, turning his pure skin smooth and glowing.

He looks so beautiful, almost as perfect as the strokes an artist may create in a portrait.

When you enter the studio, having just finished cleaning Mon Studio, he is in the same state.

He utters a soft snore, but not one you'd be able to hear from behind glass. This time, you entered on the recording side.

You look around, awestruck once more by the beauty the room provides to your curious and hungry eyes.

Letting the door close in a small crack behind you, you set down your satchel, quickly cleaning up whatever trash you can find in the room. As you scan the instruments, you find that they are all fairly new, not even requiring a shiny new polish. Nevertheless, you grab a cloth sitting on a stool near the door and begin to carefully clean every instrument.

As you touch each one, the movement is a soft, caressing one. One that reminds you of the way your mother would use to run her hand through your hair as she brushed it each night.

You smile at the memory, realizing just how much you miss her, just how much her presence filled the holes in your heart.

Suddenly realizing how silent it is in the room, you set down the rag for a moment before turning and pulling out your phone. Pulling up your playlist, you press play, filling the world with music. As it turns it brighter, dancing with vibrant colors, you lean your head back and smile. After a moment, you turn back to your work, humming softly to yourself without even realizing it.

Your hums find their way into Taehyung's mind, his dreams. His lips curve into a grin at the sound, one of peace and tranquility as he falls deeper and deeper into his subconsciousness.

It takes you only a few minutes to clean the room.

You sigh, satisfied, as you set down the last instrument in its place, turning around to survey the room. You smile at your work, enjoying the good job you have done, having given this room the order and beauty it deserves.

After all, it provides the world with so much beauty on its own.

As you scan the room, your eyes fall on something behind you, the one thing you haven't touched yet.

The microphone.

It waits there, hovering in the air just waiting for someone to use it, someone to create beautiful music with it.

You walk towards it, slowly, trying to make sure it's not just a dream, that this is real.

As you look on, your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror behind the microphone. It stands right in front of you, waiting, almost beckoning for you to use it. For you to give in to your desire.

For you to sing.

Setting down the rag, almost decidedly, you rush to the door on the far left of the room. There's a large rectangular window located to the right of the door and instead of going through the trouble of opening the door, you peer through it instead. There’s no one there, just a dark hallway stretching on forever.

Satisfied, and your heart beginning to pound with excitement, you rush to the right door, the one which you entered through. You find the door left open at a crack, but as there’s no one coming or going in this hallway either, you recklessly shut it. It bounces softly, the latch not catching and creaking slowly to a small crack once more.

Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you grab the stool you were once using to polish the instruments with and set it expertly in front of the microphone.

Glancing up from positioning it, your eyes meet a darker reflection, reminding you that there is a studio behind the recording area.

The same one where you and Namjoon were working not too long ago.

Swallowing hard, you walk over to the one-sided glass until you rest your hand securely on it, the glass cool underneath your fingertips, only a few inches away. Leaning forward, you peer into the other half of the studio, cupping your hands around your eyes so that you can see any figures in the room, if not their faces.

What you don't know, however, is that Taehyung, who sleeps on the other side, has slumped so far down in the black chair that you wouldn't be able to see him anyway.

When you find no trace of anyone there, you knock on the glass, trying to see if anyone hiding will react, before scanning the other half of the room.

At the knock, Taehyung lets out a small cry. Losing his precarious balance, he falls out of his chair crashing to the floor in surprise.

In your peripherals, you see a slight movement that causes your eyes to flashover. You're too late though, he’s already fallen on the ground, and you can only see the vacant chair which he was in a mere second ago. Satisfied, you pull away, grinning excitedly at your expression in the one-sided glass.

Just as Taehyung rises to his feet, groaning and rubbing the back of his head, he sees you. Eyes widening, he takes a startled step backward. As he does, he slips on the chair and falls, the chair spinning off him in a great tour of the room.

“What the….” he begins, as he pulls himself up once more.

He watches as you let out a cute squeal, jumping a bit at the thought of being able to sing in a recording studio. He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“What is she doing?”

Bouncing back to the seat, you settle in the stool, clearing your throat. Tapping the microphone softly, you smile at the satisfying echoing sound it makes. Before you do anything you pull out your phone, searching for a song to sing.

As one particular song catches your eye, you freeze, your smile fading a bit.

It’s the same song that you used to listen to…

...with him by your side.

It was your song, the song which labeled you as lovers, the song which was the summary of your relationship.

Now, it is just the song that reminds you of your pain.

It is the lie of what you once thought was true.

Almost out of spite, you play it.

Taehyung can see it as your expression falls, changing into something dark. He steps forward, but the soundboard prevents him from going much further. Blinking in slight surprise, he snaps out of his reverie, clearing his throat as he looks up at you once more.

The expression passes, however, and you take the headphones lying on the microphone securing them around your ears. You clear your throat, leaning forward, your eyes downcast. Once the intro ends, and at the sound of your cue, you open your mouth and begin to sing.

It's been so long.

So long since you've even trusted yourself to experience the joys which come with music. The feeling it inspires in your heart, the emotions you experience deep in your soul, the way it clears and heals your mind.

You close your eyes pouring your heart into the song.

Every bottled-up emotion.

Every little drop of pain.

As the song moves onward, you find yourself shaking, the emotions becoming too much for you to bear. Your very voice drips with them; with pain, sorrow, and loneliness. Every demon which has plagued you for as long as you can remember seems to be reborn as you sing, the melody awakening emotions that you thought were locked safely away.

It takes all you have not to break down.

You have to be strong.

You have to fight back.

You have to be okay.

Taehyung witnesses this all as it happens before him.

He finds himself conflicted just listening to you.

He wants to walk in, comfort you, somehow make that expression on your face disappear. At the same time, he knows that nothing he can do will help, it will only make things worse.

So he stands, frozen, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to respond, entranced by you and your voice. The way it rises and falls, the harmonies it creates, the way it makes the lyrics sound as though they are some other form of an angelic language.

At this moment, he can feel what you feel.

He can see what you see.

The two of you are connected through the world that you have created with your voice.

And he doesn't want to look away.

Unbeknownst to you, however, is that someone else is about to intrude on your connection.

Jungkook hums to himself as he walks down the empty hallway.

He’s just returning from a vocal lesson, and absentmindedly looks through the BigHit Instagram.

He smiles at ARMY comments and fanbases, always happy to see how the fans are doing.

However, as he turns a corner, he can hear a familiar sound.

The sound of someone manipulating their voice to fit the notes and keys on a score sheet. The sound of music being born through the vocal cords of one's voice. As soon as he hears the sound, he stops in his tracks, entranced by the sweet voice.

It's unlike any he's ever heard.

Soft yet loud, high yet low, holding vibrato, but not always there.

He quickly pockets his phone, turning the corner and finding one of the recording studio doors open. Trying his hardest not to make a sound, he rushes forward on light feet, stopping when he reaches the cracked door. Sure enough, this is the source of the voice, the sound of it clear and distinct.

He leans against the wall beside the crack and rests his head back, closing his eyes as he soaks in the sound of the voice.

What he doesn't know, however, is that the voice belongs to you.

In the back of his mind, as he listens to your voice for a longer period, he finds himself longing to know who it belongs to.

Half of him wants to burst into the room, catch you in the act, and confront you. However, another part of him, the much more sensible part, tells him that he has no right to do that.

Like Taehyung, he’s trapped in the sweet melody of your voice. He's fallen into the net and has become connected to it, to you.

The three of you stand there, unbeknownst of the other's presence, each one of you connected by a voice, and the sweet cacophony of music.

However, all things must end, and so does your song.

As your voice lilts to the closing notes of the song, the silence that follows is almost serene.

The three of you are frozen.

You recovering and on the verge of broken tears.

Jungkook left hanging on the resounding note.

Taehyung transfixed by the mere presence of you.

At the same time, they murmur three different words.

“Who are you?”

You take a deep breath after you finish, trying to gain your composure as you raise your shaky hands to your ears and remove the headphones.

You had no idea singing again would be so difficult.

You clear your throat as you stand, moving the stool to the side once more and gathering your belongings, a new song beginning to play.

You take out your earbuds and secure them in your ears before texting RM, notifying him that you have finished and are heading home.

As you turn to exit out of the door, Taehyung notices that you're about to leave and panics. He scrambles to gather his stuff, trying to catch you before you walk out once more, but the computer screen catches his eye.

There’s a new track there.

Crinkling his brow in confusion, he inserts the earbuds he was using to listen to Namjoon's new track back in his eardrums and plays the recording. There are about 10 minutes of dead silence so he skips ahead to where the sound picks up. His eyes widen as he recognizes the voice, and why wouldn't he?

He had heard it only a few moments ago.

After Taehyung closed out of Namjoon's track, he accidentally started a new recording, turning the microphone on before he fell asleep. So while you were singing, it kept the sample and saved it permanently.

Looking up, Tae watches you as you leave.

Groaning, he tears his eyes away from you, desperately tearing through the drawers for a flash drive. Finding one in the drawer beneath the soundboard, he inserts it into the computer, uploading the song to the USB. As it slowly begins to export, he bites his lip worriedly, watching you through the window as you absentmindedly wander down the hallway towards the exit.

“Come on…..come on!” he curses under his breath, watching the little green line fill the rectangular box.

On the other side of the glass, Jungkook bites his lip, trying to gain the courage to walk into the studio and try to meet you. Taking a deep breath, he bursts into the studio...

And is greeted with an empty studio.

As he looks around in confusion, he finds that the other door to the recording area is open. Putting two and two together, he can't help but feel disappointed, unable to see the one whose voice was able to penetrate his heart. He walks to the door almost forlornly, peering out into the empty hallway.

You're long gone, already on an elevator ride back down to the lobby.

As Jungkook peers down the left end of the hallway, Taehyung bursts out of the second entrance to the studio and darts down the right end. Startled by the commotion, Jungkook immediately turns around, just barely seeing the figure of Kim Taehyung rounding the corner before he’s gone.

“Taehyung…?” Jungkook murmurs under his breath, wondering what Tae possibly could have been doing in the studio.

Did he hear the voice?

Jungkook wants to follow him, find out what he knows.

But a greater part encourages him to step inside of the studio Tae had just exited from.

Taehyung left it in disarray, chasing after you. Drawers left open, the chairs scattered across the room, and the computer left on.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at Tae’s mess, moving to turn off the computer, but the track catches his eye.

Brain working fast, he realizes that this must be your song. Biting his bottom lip, he gives in to his desire and moves to the beginning of the track before playing it. Your voice invades his heart and mind, chasing every dark thought away. He smiles at the sound of it, somehow making him feel as though he’s not alone.

Not anymore.

Spying the flash drive drawer, he takes one. Almost on a whim, he inserts it and watches as it begins the uploading process. Pulling out his phone, he texts a quick message to BangPD, before pocketing it once more and receiving his prize. Pulling away from the computer, he hides your voice safely in a hidden file on the computer in case he loses his copy, before shutting it down. Turning away, he peers at the flash drive held between his fingers.

“I’m going to find you.” He murmurs, smiling a bit to himself with foreshadowed excitement.

“One day, I’ll hear you sing again.”

With that promise, he pockets the flash drive and hurries out of the studio, receiving a call from BangPD.

“Yes, sir.” He replies, his voice growing fainter and fainter as he walks further away from the studio.

“There’s something you need to hear.”

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: the tension is hiiiiiiiiiiigh

chapter 12 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Be Myself - C.B

Why Don’t We fanfic

So I’ve had my first go at writing. Tbh I’m not much of a writer but I had this idea and I wanted to at least give it a go. The idea came when I was listening to Be Myself, and was at the time relating very much to the lyrics:

 We're dancing on the edge of anxiety's ledge  And I might fall again, I might fall  We're walking on a rope of worry and I hope  That I don't fall again, I don't fall

Background: a very short scene with Corbyn about his girl suffering with mental illness and anxiety

Warnings: mentions of mental illness, some fluff

Word count: 800

The front door opened, then clicked shut again.

“Y/n?” Corbyn said as he moved through the kitchen, dropping his keys on the table on his way to the living room where you were sitting.

The concern in his voice was reasonable, you supposed, considering the general mess you had let pile up in the apartment over the few days Corbyn had been away. You were the neatest person he knew - the dirty dishes stacked on the bench, the wrappers and empty bottles littering the table and the couch – this wasn’t the normal you.

But you didn’t care. Couldn’t bring yourself to. What was the point anyway? Nothing mattered, nothing bothered you, nothing penetrated the dark and heavy cloud that had covered your mind, numbing your senses, emotions, everything. Smothering you until you could barely breathe.

“Y/n?” Corbyn said again. He had only seen your mental illness take over this badly once before. Usually you could deal with it but when it sneaks up on you, when you’re alone with nothing to distract from it…

It was hard.

“You okay?”

He came around the couch and sat next to you, slipping an arm around your shoulder and gently squeezing. You turned to look at him, vaguely registering the worry in his eyes as he scanned your face in the dim light.

“You’re home,” you tried to muster a little energy into seeming fine, but it crumbled instantly. “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, as you looked over his shoulder, then at the couch, at his leg, anywhere but his eyes.

“Oh, baby.” His voice trembled as he brought a hand up to your cheek, brushing away a fresh tear as it fell. “It’s ok, it’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologise, it’s fine.” He traced a finger along your jaw, wiping the tears and tucking a stray bit of hair behind your ear, constantly smoothing.

“I wish…I wish I wasn’t like this.”

Corbyn kept silent, knowing it was hard for you to fathom so many complex thoughts and emotions into mere words. You sniffed a little.

“I just feel…” you took another shaky breath. “I feel nothing. Nothing. I just go numb, and I-“ your voice broke completely.

Corbyn’s heart strained at your tears and desperate state as he gently tugged you into his chest and started stroking your hair, over and over.

“It’s easier to control when your with me, “ you confessed into his shirt. “You can actually make me feel something.”

Corbyn pressed a shaky kiss on the top of your head. “I’m sorry y/n. I shouldn’t have left you. I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-“

You quickly pushed off his chest, feeling horrible as his voice wavered. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that. Corbyn, don’t blame yourself. Please, no.” You rested your hand on his knee.

“I want to make it better.” Anger laced his voice, not at you, but at the helplessness he felt. “I want to- I wish I could just fix it.” If only it was so simple.

“It’s okay, Corbyn. It’ll get better. I’ll be fine.” He gave you a small smile.

“You’re so strong.” He paused for a moment and reached for your hand, holding it tightly in his as his thumb rubbed over your trembling fingers. “I love you” he whispered.

His eye flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, silently asking permission.

You gave a little nod, a smile barely cracking your mouth. He slowly lent forward and brushed his lips against yours, once, twice, lingering for a moment before pulling back and searching your eyes.

“Better?”

“Yes,” you breathed, pressing a hand on his chest. “Better.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he lent in, connecting your lips again. He was so soft and warm. Everything you wished you felt inside.

You broke off, feeling his heart beating in your palm as you mumbled onto his lips, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You couldn’t stop kissing him, drinking in his sweet warmth like he was the sun, and you were the moon, dependent on his light to be seen, to be anything at all. His hands held your waist as he lifted you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. You kissed him more passionately, your hands roaming through his hair and over the back of his neck, down to his heaving chest and back up again, needing to touch him and feel him. So close to you, so alive.

You could feel a smile growing on your lips as your heart melted, the feeling like an incandescent light spreading over you, beginning to heal all the little cracks. You broke apart again, your heart beating hard as you studied him. This beautiful boy that cared for you. That wanted to make it easier for you, make it better.

His fingers swirled over your legs, drawing invisible patterns as he gazed up at you. “Next time you feel down, tell me. Please. Let me help you,” He said, his eyes serious.

“Okay. I will.” You smiled at him. “And you do make it better...you make me feel less like a shadow.”

He smiled at that. “Good.”

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought <3 [masterlist]

[hello-yue-here]

About your atla ship songs, I have a couple of questions (sorry if my phrasing comes out wrong, english isn't my first language and I worry it might across as accidentally defensive): how did you end up with the choices for zukka, jetko and yuekka (note: I haven't seen the great comet, so feel free to obsess over it, I'm intrigued now and the hype is appreciated!)? Sidenote: I think the mailee choice is HILARIOUS and the tokka one just make me sad, I didn't expect to be attacked like this😭

kdjfha;s i love you im gonna obsess SO HARD over great comet now. you may regret this

this is gonna be so long so the rest is under the cut whoops

yuekka: no one else from great comet

where do i even begin. WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN

okay so background information on this show: it's based off of a 76 oages excerpt from war and peace and its centered around a woman named natasha (and this guy pierre but he's irrelevant to this song so we wont worry about him) and natasha's bethrothed is off fighting in the war right now. she hasn't seen him in a while but she is in love with him.

every single lyrics of this song SCREAMS yuekka to me. the innocence and purity of their love. the love at first sight. and even the melancholy ending just- i go apeshit for this song. i love this song so much. and denee benton's voice??? kljsdhflwksugf please listen to this song if you haven't already. listen to the whole show. your life will be changed forever.

onto the lyrics (i stg this is ab to be the whole song whoops)

"the moon"

THOSE ARE THE FIRST WORDS ON THE SONG. natasha and andre (her bethrothed) met underneath the moonlight. Sokka and Yue first spoke to eachother at night and always met each other for their most intimate moments under the moonlight. also yue is LITERALLY the moon so like: right of the bat with those two words it's yuekka.

"and i saw your eyes / and i saw your smile / and the world opened wide"

sokka fell in love with yue the moment he saw her in the canal. she literally enchanted this motherfucker. everything about her made his heart go crazy. and 'the world opened wide' to me is from yue's perspective. Yue had never left the north pole and sokka had seen a good chuck of the world at the point. He took her on appa, he told her about his adventures. he saw the world yue wished to see and you know damn well that Sokka would have done anything to give it to her.

"oh the moon /oh the snow in the moonlight / and your childlike eyes and your distant smile / ill never be this happy again / you and i and no one else"

natasha sings fondly about the moon and the snow, seeing as it was where she fell in love with andre. yue and sokka LITERALLY fell in love in the same place: in the snowy nothern water tribe under the light of the moon. childlike eyes: THEYRE CHILDREN!!! distant smile: this is where it gets a little sad. theyre both children with way too many duties during a world that has known nothing but war for the past century. they want to be happy but yeah, theyre smiles are distant and far away because happiness seems out of reach for them most of the time. i'll never be this happy again: the moments yue and sokka shared together were probably the happiest either of them ever were. they were able to ignore the war and the world in the moments they shared together. and with no one else. no one else would be able to give each other this sense of peace and happiness and love.

"joy and life inside our souls / and no body knows just you and me / it's our secret"

Yue and Sokka had to sneak out in secret at night to go and see each other. Yue and Sokka couldn't be together for real because Yue was already engaged, but they were literally in love so she decided to see him anyways in secret. kasdjfhklasjd im losing my mind over them at this point.

"this winer sky / how can anyone sleep / there was never such a night before / i feel like putting my arms around my knees / and squeezing tight as possible / and flying away"

these are my FAVORITE lines in the entire song. yue and sokka had never felt this strongly about anyone before and that's why they are so drawn to each other. they had never experienced love before and they wanted to hold onto it for as long as they could even though they knew they couldnt. Sokka takes yue up on appa and she is wistful and wishes she could live like he does every day: ie flying away. oh my god these two deserved so much better. so much fucking better.

now for the saddes part. the saddest fucking part.

"maybe he'll come today / maybe he came already / and he's sitting in the drawing room / and i simply forgot"

natasha misses andre so intensely at this point. when i first listened to this show and heard this song i was like "wait a min... is andre like... dead?" and im sure i wasnt the only person who assumed that this was why natasha felt so sad by the end of such a beautiful song. (spoiler alert andre is fine)

but this line really exemplifies how sad natasha is, and hints at the fact that andre may never come back. it implies that their relationship is doomed (at least in my opinion) and that's all yuekka. Sokka misses yue intensely when shes gone. Yue accepted her fate almost immediately but sokka was in denial. he thought there had to be another way. but in the end it wasn't meant to be. and sokka will go on, loving yue, wishing for her back, even though it's not possible.

fuck im gonna cry.

zukka: all i've ever known- hadestown

"i was alone so long / i didn't even know that i was lonely / out in the cold so long / i didnt even know that i was cold"

sokka is from the swt so theres where the cold comes in. also in the gaang (initially) it was just him katara and aang. and katara and aang were much closer to each other than sokka was with aang and the two of them were benders so sokka was kind of an outsider with the two of them. He also represses a lot of his emotions and feels the need to do everything himself so i do see a lot of loneliness in sokka. and the fact that so many people in his life have left him (his mom, yue, his dad, suki briefly, etc...) he is known to keep people at an arms length. i see a lot of loneliness in sokka.

zuko's loneliness is a lot more obvious: he has literally been cast out and abandoned by everyone except iroh. and even then he still feels the need to be alone (remember zuko alone? thought so) these boys look after themselves and push others away and revel in their loneliness in order to keep themselves from getting hurt. at least in my opinion on canon and also some fanon because id be a liar if i said fanon didnt influence how i view ALL my ships (not just zukka)

"all ive ever known is how to hold my own / but now I wanna hold you too"

COME ONE MANNNN, they just wanna hold each other. theyre both very big protectors as well and kljhflkasdhg they wanna protect eachother like kljdhfl im gonna lose it rn.

"You take me in your arms / And suddenly there's sunlight all around me / Everything bright and warm / And shining like it never did before / And for a moment I forget / Just how dark and cold it gets"

SUNLIGHT SYMBOLISM. zuko is literally powered by the sun. i don't think i even NEED to elaborate on this one anymore lol. They find comfort in each other away from all of their trauma. when they're together nothing else matters and i personally love that for them. they both deserve love.

"I knew you before we met / And I don't even know you yet / All I know is your someone I have always known"

these two are extremely similar in canon. many parallels. older brothers overshadowed by their prodigy little sisters. longing to make their fathers proud (granted one dad is good and one is fuckin evil), both are pretty bad with emotions. both are seen protecting others before themselves (sokka protecting suki during the serpant's pass, sokka protecting toph on like multiple occassions, zuko protecting katara in the final agni kai), the list goes on. they know who the other is because they see themselves in the other person. they already know each other because they are each other (in a way, not entirely, but the similarities are strong in my opinion)

"I'm gonna hold you forever / The wind will never change on us / Long as we stay with each other / Then it will always be like this"

i just think this line is so cute and sweet (ignoring all the symbolism and foreshadowing that comes with the last line in the musical itself. im gonna pretend this is nothing but happy) and i think these boys deserve happiness so yeah. this song is zukka to me lol.

jetko: thrill of first love- falsettoes

if you've never listened to this song go an do it now. you will know INSTANTLY that it is jetko because of the dynamics alone. marvin and whizzer are pure jetko and i take no crticisms.

marvin and whizzer are both extremely stubborn, and they don't always get along, and they fight a lot, and they get mad at each other a lot, and they are both passionate as hell, and they will bring this passion into everything. they love each other that is without a doubt, but they arent perfect and they are once again stubborn and determined as fuck.

sound familiar? it's literally jetko.

the lyrics aren't what remind me of jetko, but the dynamic itself. the lyrics are too on the nose for a gay couple in 1970's america so that rlly cant apply to jetko all that much. but the way these two characters bounce off of each other and get annoyed with each other and argue with eachother reminds me of jetko. because let's be honest: these two are the most stubborn characters in the whole show. they will fight for what they believe and it will take literally everything to change their minds.

i love jetko but i think they would have petty arguments all the time and get aggravated by one another so easily. and this is even seen in canon: they work so fucking well together but they did not even HESITATE to fight one another after neither of them would give in and let the fight about whether jet was right or wrong about zuko being a firebender. like i cannot say it enough they are stubborn as fuck.

but underneath all that stubborn pettiness and bickering: marvin and whizzer still love each other. and jet and zuko would still love each other. because even though they are stubborn when it comes to arguments, they are even more stubborn and determined when it comes to each other. these two passionate motherfuckers are in love.

(now when i chose this song i decided to ignore the fact that this song literally spells out the fact that marvin and whizzer's relatinoship is doomed because they literally say passion dies. thats the difference between jetko and whizzer and marvin because i dont think passion dies. i chose this song strictly for the bickering lmao)

and i know you didnt ask about tokka but,,,,

i rlly wanna talk about the tokka one

so im going to

tokka: on my own- les mis

look. i KNOW this song is about unrequited love and i love tokka as a couple but,,, the unrequited love in this song just SCREAMS unrequited tokka to me so thats what i went with.

eponine is a girl who has neglectful parents who lives life by her own rules: toph. eponine is shown to be tough and confident and spunky to others but behind all of that she has emotions, she feels love, she hides her vulnerability so much: toph. she is in love with a guy she cant be with because he loves someone else: TOPH

eponine is toph to a t and toph is eponine to a t. this is not up for debate lmao

"without him i feel his arms around me"

toph is always seen grabbing onto someone (and its almost ALWAYS sokka) when she's somewhere where she can't use her feet to see. FEEL and ARMS cmon. look at it.

"and i know / i know that he is blind"

COME ON. IMAGINE TOPH SINGING THIS LINE. this line is already powerful enough in les mis but having toph, a blind character, sing it just makes the symbolism even deeper. toph sees the potential relationship they could have together. toph sees that sokka is oblivious to this. toph is not blind to the truth or the potention, but sokka is blind to her feelings. im about to lose my mind over this line.

"I love him / But every day I'm learning / All my life / I've only been pretending / Without me / His world will go on turning / A world that's full of happiness / That I have never known"

i need to sit down for a moment. toph grew up in a household where her parents did not understand her. she has learned to hide her true emotions and vulnerabilities from everyone. and its the fact that toph knows that she and sokka will never be together and the fact that she still loves him in spite of that is what makes this even more heartbreaking.

"but only on my own"

TOPH AND EPONINE SWEETIES I LOVE YOU

thank you for indulging my theatre kid nonsense. you are very sweet and kind and lovely and awesome and i hope you have a lovely day bestie :) <3

ask me why i think these songs go with these ships

[breaking-shadows]

Breaking Shadows

Chapter 2

The angel left promising he would return soon. He left me alone, with my grandmother very much alive and her soul intact. 

I looked at the cuckoo clock mounted on the wall. It had been intricately carved to tell the story of Hansel and Gretel. Creepy, for a witch. The devious children who ate a witch out of house and home and then murdered her for all her generosity. 

The hands read nearly four-fifteen. 

I imagined sinking into the soft mattress of my bed and curling up in the duvet, but if that happened, I’d be there for the duration. I fell asleep on the sofa, wrapped in a dressing gown, to the low hum of the TV. 

The light of breaking dawn woke me before half six.

“Officers attended the scene in Cullfield, a suburb of New York City...”

I peeled open an eyelid. The TV continued to play to itself, showing American-looking police standing by a strip of bright yellow tape. 

“...the whole town was found massacred in what eyewitnesses have described as a bloodbath.”

Bolting upright, I grappled for the remote to turn the volume up, heart hammering against my ribcage. 

“Police have appealed for witnesses and urge neighbouring towns to be vigilant. We’ll have more on this breaking story as the information comes through. Now, here’s the news wherever you are.” The opening credits rolled for the local news. 

Footsteps sounded on the floorboards above. Gran was up. She must be feeling better. I switched off the TV and raced upstairs. 

“Gran!” I called. “Gran!”

I caught her leaving my room, eyes puffy and red-ringed, skin grey. The soft grey curls framing her face were wild. She gave a gasp, sucking the air from the room and fell back against the door. 

My feet stalled on the top step. “Are you okay?”

Her mouth bobbed struggling to form words that wouldn’t come. 

“Gran?” 

“Oh my – Riley!” she crossed the few steps between us and wrapped me in her arms, the scent of lavender triggering a dormant headache. One of her hands went to my hair, pulling my head towards her shoulder. Over and over she whispered my name.

Then she pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length. Withered hands cupped my face, her thumbs making downward strokes with her thumbs. She laughed through her tears. 

“What did you want me for?”

“Are we not going to talk about this?”

Gran released my face to wipe her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffing away the tears as though they’d never been. “There’s nothing to talk about, Riley. I’m  tired, I must not have recovered as much as I’d thought.”

I wanted to tell her she’d be fine, that the illness wouldn’t be rearing its ugly head again, but then she’d want to know why. Even I wasn’t proud about how I’d gone about it, but seeing Gran like this again, well enough to be on her feet or nearly tumbling from them… I’d made the right choice. 

“Once more then, what did you want me for?”

What did I want her for? “The news. On the news, there’s something about a massacre in a town on the outskirts of New York. From the sounds of it, it seems like the whole town. I didn’t know if it merited checking out. It could be a coven.”

Gran looked thoughtful. “It’s possible. I have a meeting with our coven this morning, I will raise it, contact other covens there. Even if it wasn’t a coven, something like that may require investigation. Can you remember the name of the place?”

“No, I can’t. But it must be all over the news.”

A weak smile crossed Gran’s face, the one she gave me when I wasn’t being helpful. 

“Do you need me to come?”

“Ha! Don’t think you’re getting out of your studies that easily. Talking about school, unless you get a move on, you’re going to be late.”

“Fine. Am I still okay to go out tonight?”

Gran cupped my face in her hands. “Of course, of course. Go Riley, and live.”

I took a swig from the bottle in my hand, grimacing at the bitter taste. The shaped glass knocked against my teeth. Something had been off with Gran. Yes, she’d been ill, so ill I’d made a deal with a servant of death to save her soul. But still – 

“God Riley. You’re quiet. You’re here now, you might as well enjoy it.” Kat knelt on the blanket beside me. 

I could smell it as soon as Kat sat down, the stench of stale smoke burning my nostrils. “Please tell me you haven’t been smoking,” I coughed, wafting the fumes away with my hand. 

“Of course, I haven’t,” she said before diving into her bag. She plucked out a shocking pink aerosol can and sprayed it all over herself with a few squirts in the air for good measure. “Simon insists he won’t stop though, so until Channing Tatum becomes available, I’m sticking with him. Anyway, back to you, what’s up?”

I balanced the almost full bottle in the grass, the contents settling uneasily in my stomach. Once again, it would be easier to tell the truth. Although confessing to be a witch would throw up more questions than answers for Kat, and Gran would surely kill me for divulging our secrets. 

“I told you earlier I was tired, I didn’t sleep well.” Striking a deal with an angel in the early hours of the morning proved to be more time-consuming that I’d originally planned. 

“You’re seventeen,” Kat yawned. “You should be able to stay up all night and not feel its effects. But if you’re feeling shit, why don’t we find something to put a smile on your face? Where’s Will?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t seen him for a while. The last time I did, he was fighting his way to the front of the crowd.” I bobbed my head towards the fifty-deep crowd who were dancing and swaying in ways unsuited to the heavy metal band rocking it out on stage. 

Kat had spent weeks talking about this clandestine festival. She’d had to sneak out under the hooked nose of her strict mother, and I felt guilty for spoiling it. Now, with my ears ringing because of the constant din, I wished I’d stuck to the lie I’d tried after lunch. My boyfriend had barely looked at me, never mind spent any time with me, and I found myself disturbed by fleeting thoughts of the angel in Will’s absence. 

Smoke gathered, seeping into my pores choking my lungs. Makeshift fire pits sprang up everywhere in the clearing in the middle of Derwent Woods. Uneasiness prickled my skin. As a water witch, fire put me on edge, and probably affected me more than any of the nemocanes in attendance. Nemocanes were non-witches, those without power. 

“Do you want to go find him?” Kat tilted her head and fluttered her fake eyelashes. 

I’d known her long enough to know she wasn’t asking and before I knew it, Kat had pulled me to my feet. “Come on, let’s see if we can get Will to put a smile on your face. If anyone can, I’m sure it’s him.”

We delved deeper through the crowd, ducking, and weaving through twisting bodies and flailing arms, some of which smacked me straight in the face. The stench was almost unbearable, cheap perfume, the musty smell of beer all mixed in with sweat and smoke. 

“I can’t see them, can you?”

“They’ve got to be here somewhere,” said Kat. She craned her neck to scan the crowd. “Tell you what, if you go to the right, I’ll go this way, and we’ll send the other a text if we find them. Okay? Great.”

“Kat, wait!” But the mass of bodies had already swallowed my friend, bottles of alcohol raised in the air, the crowd singing as loud as their voices would let them. 

Fighting my way in the direction Kat told me to go, I was confronted by one unfamiliar face after another. They swam before my eyes and merged into one continuous blur. Heat rose in my face. Sweat coated my forehead, droplets running down the length of my neck. I tugged at the stiff collar of my denim jacket, but the more I did, the more it closed around my neck like a vice.

More limbs struck.

The fire was overwhelming.

I fought for air. 

My hand raced around my neck in a frantic motion. The contents of dancing bottles dripped down onto my hair and face. Gran would think I’d drank a brewery. 

I forced my way to the back of the crowd, pushing through people as though they were water and I was desperate for the shore. Breaking out into the open, I inhaled as much fresh air as I could, letting the space subdue the rising panic within. 

The constant roar of the band was the only reminder of where I was and the only thing stopping me from falling to my knees and making a spectacle of myself before most of the year twelve and thirteens. 

A glint of white flashed through the trees ahead.

Then another.

My blood turned to stone. 

Then a hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I spun, blood throbbing.

“Where have you been?”

“Nowhere.”

I looked back towards the treeline. 

“You okay? Riley?” Kat’s voice was muffled and far away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I’m not sure I haven’t,” I mumbled. 

“What? Doesn’t matter. Come on, I’ve found the boys.” Grabbing hold of my wrist, Kat pulled me through the crowd where I couldn’t help but look back.

Ghosts – a definite possibility and harmless in most cases. Demon – more likely and more deadly. I looked around at all those gathered. Shit, so many. It would be a bloodbath. 

“Here they are,” Kat thrust me forward. 

Will and Simon had worked their way right to the front. Lyrics flew from their mouths delivered out of tune between swigs of beer. As soon as Will’s eyes found mine, he stumbled to me with a lopsided grin on his handsome face. I felt a pang in my stomach as another face popped into my head.

Mentally, I told it to piss off. 

“W-w-where have you been?” he slurred. His hands were all over my back, moving lower and lower. Will leaned in read to place a kiss on my lips. Reaching back, I stopped his hands travelling further but welcomed the kiss I’d waited all night for. 

Despite tasting that wretched alcohol, my heart leapt. Worries of dangers lurking beyond the trees evaporated. I’d probably imagined it anyway. Reaching up, I ran my hand through his short dirty-blond hair. 

“We need more time together,” he said, lips pressing against my ear. “Alone.”

I tensed. The meaning was as clear as ringing bells and set in my insides like concrete. I plastered a smile on my face. After all, it was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Having pined for him for the last four years with not one sign I was even on his radar, I was determined to make the most of being his. 

Somewhere, screams pierced the deafening music. 

“What was that?” Will asked, pulling away. 

I ignored him. With my body as still as stone, I looked to see what had caused panic to roll through the crowd. People fled in all directions, frantic limbs flying. I’d stood still long enough to feel the loss of Will’s body heat and watch him leave to join the dispersing group. 

Nausea surged when I realised they were running away from the treeline where I thought I’d glimpsed something other. 

Shit. 

The music cut off and a loud crash sounded as the musicians abandoned their instruments. 

“Will? Kat? I spun on the spot desperately trying to find my friends. I battled against the onslaught of bodies, the only one going towards what made everyone else flee. 

The screaming was terrible. It punctured my mind until I couldn’t think straight.  A tall blur of blond hair and white t-shirt barged my shoulder and knocked me to the ground, not bothering to stop. I hissed at the sharp pain in my hands. Lifting them from the grassy field, thick blood trickled from a jagged wound across my palm. The fragmented remains of a glass bottle lay hidden in the glass coated in my blood. Black in the moonlight, the droplets slid down my hand and into the grass. 

Shadows emerged from the trees, the stark darkness of the woods bleeding into the clearing. They moved in quick, sharp jerks barely touching the ground with their stick-like limbs. The only creatures I had ever seen scurry like that were spiders. 

Demons. But what kind, I didn’t know, had never encountered them in any of my witch studies. My pulse drummed in my ears as all other sounds died. They drew closer, the pale white of their skin stretching over thin, sharp bones like a translucent film. Two pointed pincers bulged out of the side of their head and around the front of their faces. Fire danced in their feline-like eyes. 

The only one left in the clearing, I pushed myself back onto my feet. Only me and a dozen of these things. I grimaced at the throbbing in my hand, and took calculated steps towards the demons, taking care not to trip over the abandoned debris strewn over the grass. 

There were seconds left before they reached me. Would flooding the clearing work? Should I send out a jet of water to blast them back? Quick. Decide. 

“Are you going to make a half-arsed attempt to get away or just let them kill you?”

I whirled on the familiar voice to find the angel standing there. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving you.”

The untamed black hair grazed his shoulders. He held my gaze steady and sure, his lips slightly parted. Something registered on his face and a darkness bloomed in his widening eyes burning with such intensity that the night sky with all its stars and wonders paled in comparison. 

I blinked the image of him away and clicked my tongue. “Save yourself.” With that, I sent three demons skittling with a low jet of water. 

“There’s too many of them, we’ll never make it. Come on,” Rafe reached back and grabbed my wrist to pull me with him.

Not that I wanted to admit it, but he was right. We barrelled across the grass heading for the stage. My much shorter legs struggled to keep up with his longer strides. Even in frantic escape mode, Rafe moved with grace while all my energy was spent trying to stay upright. 

He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re gaining on us. Hurry!”

“Can’t you sprout your wings and fly us out of here?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’ll explain if we survive this.” 

I groaned as he increased his speed dragging me with him, my thighs and calves burning. 

“I need to get to the coven.”

Each penetrating stab reverberated across the ground, and the closer they got, the more their screeched pierced my ear drums. Rafe stopped when we reached a black and silver motorcycle propped up by a short leg at the side of the stage. 

“Hop on,” he said, throwing his leg over. With a kick of his boot, the leg flicked up and the engine roared into life. He looked at me once more. “What are you waiting for?”

“There isn’t a helmet,” I hesitated. 

Dark amusement flickered in his eyes. “Seriously? We’re getting chased by demons who I know want to kill us and you’re worried about where the helmet is.”

I could have explained. I could have told him why the sheer thought of getting on that bike was giving me palpitations and shortening my breath. But I didn’t.

“Safety first,” was all I said. 

“Get on the bike, Riley.”

I stopped myself throwing up. “If we die now, I’m betting it’s down to a lack of safety equipment and not shiny demons with excellent cheekbones.” I hitched up my long skirt and jumped on. At first, I didn’t know where to place my hands and settled on the thin strip of leather between us. 

“Here,” he reached round, grabbed both my hands, and pulled them around his waist. My injured hang stung. My chest crashed into the solid wall of his back.

“I need you to hold on,” he shouted over the noise of the engine. 

Gripping tighter, I brushed the contours of his stomach muscles. Heat bloomed on my cheeks and I was thankful he couldn’t see the fire in my face.

We sped away and the creatures gave chase. 

“Head for Valestone,” I called. “We’ll be safe there.”

Rafe drove straight into the forest. I wondered if he hoped the trees would act as an obstacle to slow the creatures down. Derwent Forest was thick and known for the dense canopy capable of blocking most rays. Especially now, as midnight fast approached, everywhere was black except for the small distance illuminated by the bike’s headlamp and the smouldering fires left in the clearing. 

“Do you know what those things are?”

“Arachna demons. Half human and half spider. All of them female.”

“They can’t be.”

“Female or demons? Hang on!” he steered left, avoiding a row of tree trunks. The bike weaved in and out of trees effortlessly navigating root laden paths as though he’d driven this way a thousand times. 

Daring to look back, my loose hair lashed my face like gilded whips. Somehow, my faux daisy headband stayed in place. A good thing for Rafe because if it flew off, I’d make him go back for it. Demons be damned. 

“They’re getting closer!”

“They can’t move that quick. These are new ones emerging from the undergrowth.”

My head snapped back to him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“None of this is about making you feel better,” he called back, swerving again. 

We hit an emerging root. My hands wrapped tighter around him to stop myself from falling off, but he jumped the bike and landed them back on the ground on the other side. 

“You okay back there?”

“Yes,” I said into the rushing wind. It whistled as it sailed by my ear.

A volcano of dirt and greenery erupted ahead. Rafe jammed on the brakes and skidded, landing at an angle. Two white pincers grappled out of the ground. He paused for a beat before flying off in the direction we faced.  

“Not much further now,” he called back. 

In the distance, the shadows of the forest faded paling to navy blue and lighter still as we neared the edge of the forest. I felt easier knowing we would soon be out. I’d have to wake my grandmother and summon the coven to deal with the demons – Arachna, Rafe called them. How strange I’d never heard of them before. 

We broke out of the boundary of the forest and slammed into the village. The closed lichgate of our village’s Norman church lay ahead, the church on our right, silhouetted against the sky. The interior was nothing more than an illusion created for any tourists making their way to Valestone or visitors from nearby towns. Witches in our coven could see through the magic veil like it was a splash of oil in a puddle. 

I gave a little yelp as Rafe spun the bike, landing parallel to the forest with the church behind us. He twisted the key and the noise died. 

“Well that’s something new,” he stared up at the sky, scanning across the span of the village. 

Following his gaze, I smiled, knowing what had piqued his interest. “It’s a protection dome for the coven. Powered by the High Witch.” When I spoke, my head felt like it was submerged in water, my words muffled, and ears blocked. 

And still the creatures came, their skin shining like a pearl in the moonlight.

“Here they come.”

One creature placed a pincer across the boundary marked by a row of uniform trees. As soon as they did, electric flashes surged up the offending limb until it covered the whole demon. It crackled, steam rising high before its body went limp and slumped to the ground, lifeless. Two other demons scurried up to the dead body, trying to nudge it alive with a pincer but when it didn’t move, they retreated in a hurry taking the whole horde with them.

“Nothing that intends harm can enter.”

“Impressive. I might need a word with your High Witch.”

I dismounted; my attention fixed on the smouldering mass of flesh. “I’m not so sure about that,” I said absently. “A servant of death seeking her out about a protection dome might freak her out.”

“Point taken.”

I turned to smile at Rafe. “Nice bike.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and threw his leg over the motorcycle to stand next to me. 

“Yeah, it’s not mine. Some idiot left it next to the stage with keys in the ignition. An idiot I’m very grateful to, but I’m just going to leave it here. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. I’m going to wake my grandmother with the wonderful news that half of the neighbouring town have witnessed and were nearly eaten by demons. Some possibly eaten if I don’t get a move on.” I studied the gash across my palm, flecks of dried blood formed a boundary around the open wound. 

“Are you hurt?”

I snatched it away, hiding it by my side. “Just a little scratch.”

“Show me.”

“I said it’s fine.”

Rafe sighed and held an upturned hand. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation in my mind and before I knew it, he was cradling my hand in his almost reverently as he ran a calloused finger tip down my palm. 

My breath bated. He smelled of soap. Clean, like rolling in freshly washed linen. I couldn’t look at his face. 

“When you get home, I want you to properly clean the wound.”

“My Gran will have a poultice of witch hazel leaves and bark. She’ll sort it.” I would have sworn I saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“And I’ll come back tomorrow to heal it when I have my powers back.”

My head snapped up. “What do you mean? Is that why you couldn’t fly? Have you lost your powers?”

“So many questions, little witch.”

I cocked my head to one side silently demanding answers. 

“Angels are given a day off, if you will, every ten thousand souls they collect. Today is mine, but you live the day as a mortal. No powers, no wings.”

“You had a day off and you decided to creep around a teenage party? Not that you look much older than we do…”

At that, Rafe chucked. “Get going, or someone is going to find themselves at the mercy of an Arachna demon.”

“I need my hand back.”

A hint of colour stained his cheeks, but he dropped my hand as though the contact burned him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Rafe nodded in reply. 

I kicked my legs into gear. I made it to the end of the lane before the urge to look back became too much. He should’ve gone, but he was still there, lounging against the stolen bike, watching. 

It took everything I had to move away. 

Chapter 1

[mother-snake]

a guide to the other side pt 6

( okay, so same as normal, read the other parts to understand some of this. but i suppose this could be a stand alone. second i know the last bit of lyrics is missing. its intentional)

start: thursday previous: a guide to the other side pt5 next: a guide to the other side pt 7

-what was in the past stays there. but it always had its ups and downs for our scaled friend-

words: 5558 warnings: heavy angst and not as much fluff as planned. tears may happen(if im missing anything plase say somthing!)

It's quiet uptown

He looked around the room with panic, the light had faded but he could still feel the numbing pain that spread into himself. Who was he…? he shakily stood up in the room he was in. he knew it was his. He looked up at the wall to see pictures. People he barely remembered. But he knew their purposes… so what was his?

 He saw a blacked-out figure in each photo… he knew that was him. But not… at the same time.

Tears poured out his eyes. Who was he… who was he… who… he let out a scream and clamped his hands on his ears. He didn’t like this. where was his other half? He didn’t want to be alone. He needed the other.

He sobbed into his black jumper. Tucking his head into the necks sleeve. he cried himself to sleep that day.

He ignored the talking on the outside of the door, and stared blankly as tears poured down his face. He rubbed his eyes constantly trying to dry them. An inky black substance started to dry onto his hands.

He cried harder. He didn’t want to be alone.

There are moments that the words don't reach There is suffering too terrible to name You hold your child as tight as you can And push away the unimaginable The moments when you're in so deep It feels easier to just swim down

It was a week after his other half appeared. He stuck by their side. Despite being created later, he was almost a head taller. And protective. His first action had been to hug the other. And in that moment, he felt complete.

They had been as quiet as possible, walking past the orange and silver doors of their family. Knowing that they would end up hurt if they alerted them to their presence outside their rooms.

They had been doing this for the entire week. Sneaking out in hopes of having some adventures. Staying in the room had been boring for them both.

 They reached the mirror that lead to the imagination quicker than they had the previous days. Janus clung to the others pink jumper tightly. Not letting go as they stepped in and into the bright luscious green forest filled with light and colour. Very few black and greys.

Janus felt a small smile appear on his lips. he took his brothers hand and pulled him into the forest. Running at a speed that his brother could barely keep up. but both laughing joyfully.

They arrived at the tower they had found on their third day exploring. Hidden away by stone and vines. “hello!” Janus yelled. a low rumble could be heard from the top. A scaly head poked its head from above. A wide toothy smile showing sharp canines. the dragon spread its wings and soared down, a bright red light flashed and the dragon shifted from its normal form into one of a women with a pointy hat. “hello children, its good to see you again,” she smiled. “oh my, where did you get that nasty bruise Theodore?!” she fussed.

“pops’ aren’t the nicest, but its okay! Janus is fine,” he smiled brightly. “well come on the, ill treat it. I also have something with your name son it. come on now,” each side took a hand as he led them to their home.

She was kind. They hope she wouldn’t turn out like their dads… but they knew their chances were slim. They hope she’ll stay their friend

The sanders move uptown And learn to live with the unimaginable

It was cold that day in the imagination. They couldn’t stop shivering. The white stuff falling out of the sky froze their skin with each small drop. the dragon-witch had set up a fire for them to warm themselves up in. they were confused as to why she had hung giant socks above the fireplace. or why there was shiny things strung around a tree. Blinking away in a rhythm. She had laughed as they stared at them for several minutes. “they are called Christmas lights sweethearts,” she smiled as she wrapped a blanket around the two and handed them cups of coco. “I must ask, why do you come here so often? You must have friends?” “no, it’s just us…” Theodore said, getting a small nod from Janus. “I know some people who would love to meet you, would you be okay with that?” she asked.

The siblings looked at each other. Seemingly having a mental conversation. She could never understand how they did that no matter how long she’d seen them do it. “okay then,” Theodore said with a smile. “ill talk to them tonight,” she said and walked away.

They looked between each other excitedly. They hadn’t had a friend before. The dragon-witch could count, but she was more of a mother to them. Not that they minded.

 They had arrived later than they had wanted that day and could feel the emotions leaking into the room… they had stayed far too long and were going to go through another round of hell… they had tried to be quiet. They had almost made it to their rooms… both blacked out and woke away from the other. If wrath or insanity heard their pleas to get back to the others side. They didn’t come.

I spend hours in the garden I walk alone to the store And its quiet uptown I never liked the quiet before I take the children to church on Sunday A sign of the cross at the door And I pray That never used to happen before

They sat in a luscious green field. Theodore’s newly formed scales glittering away in the luscious sun. Janus’s black jumper had remained the same. Theodore wore a new bright pink one, replacing his old black one. Brining out his scales beautifully in Janus’s opinion. “do you think they would accept us?” Janus asked.

They were waiting on the theirs to arrive. The dragon-witch had dropped them off here, saying she would tell the others there were new sides waiting.

Janus had a half made carnation crown in his hands. They were white but the tips blushed with a light pink. He was working on looping the final one when he saw two figures burst from the tree line that lead into the field. Janus was sat atop of an old structure, Theodore sat higher than his brother.

The figures looked at the two of them with surprise. They walked forwards towards them. one was waring blacks and grey. A purple bandana kept their bangs out of their face. the other wore a bright green princely costume that belonged to a evil king or prince looked like it came out of the books the dragon witch let them read. “excuse me, who are you!” purple bandanna spoke. “I’m depression, this is my brother. His name is repression!” “I’m paranoia, this is imagination.” “come join us!” Theodore patted the wall next to himself.

Much to his surprise paranoia removed his hoodie and wrapped it around his waist. six spider legs appeared and he began to climb almost in humanely. imagination snapped his fingers to reveal tentacles that looked like they belonged to a sea monster. several friendships were formed that day. All would last only a year long.

If you see him in the street, walking by Himself, talking to himself, have pity

They had slowly begun to stand up to their captors, the two others and their mother giving them the mental strength to do so. They should have guessed they wouldn’t back down from a fight.

And it cost more than they were willing to admit. Virgil lost half of his spider legs… Remus barely had his sanity in-tact. Theodore lost both of his legs… replacing them with plastic ones that the dragon-witch created for him.

It was their fault. They had begun to argue during the battle that locked wrath and insanity away. Janus had removed any memory of them fighting insanity. Knowing it was for the best. But leaving them to remember wrath.

Janus right now was curled up into Theo’s side, who still was yet to wake up from the fight. This replacement legs sat at the side collecting dust. he whimpered as he clung to the other like a lifeline. And he was. He didn’t want to lose his other half. He wouldn’t let him go anywhere. No matter what. He would kick and scream if need be.

He knew that Remus and Virgil wouldn’t visit. They saw them as a danger towards Thomas and would hide them as best as possible knowing them.

It would be decades before the get their chance. And for now, Janus was okay with that. He still had his brother, mother and home. That’s all he wished for right now.

Thomas, you would like it uptown It's quiet uptown

He laughed as Theodore jumped on his bed. Shaking himself awake. It had officially been three years since their split. They laughed as they snuck away to the imagination, knowing they could stay there all year.

The tower was covered in pinks and yellow. It wasn’t filled with many people. Just him, his brother and the dragon-witch. But that was okay to him.

His happiness always seemed to infect the other two. He wasn’t sure why or how it was possible. But he tried to do it as often as possible. He knew his brother hid things from him. Like how his abilities took his toll on the other. so he made it his mission to make the other happier. Sure, he wasn’t very good at keeping his own emotions in check. But as long as his brother was okay that was enough for himself.

“happy birthday kids… you’re all so grown up. can I even call you kids anymore?” “we’re twenty. But were always going to be your kids. Don’t think that will ever change,” Janus said as he smiled.

A soft yellow scared wrapped around his neck. Despite his scales had just formed. only being a feint grey, yet to show their true colours.

He loved the colour yellow anyways. It always brightened a room.

He is working through the unimaginable

It had been a week. His brother said he would be back in two days. So, where the hell was he? Where was his brother?

He felt fear strike his core. What if he was taken, what if the others had found a way to escape?

He hadn’t realised that he had gotten of the track of where he was walking whilst lost in his thoughts. It was when he fell down the hill, rolling along the ground uncontrollably. Hitting his entire body of the hard ground. Getting cut by wild thorns, twigs and stones that scattered the ground.

Pain filled every part of his body. He wheezed as he tried to get air back into his lungs, he could feel small bits of blood dripping down from his head.

He whimpered and stared at the sky. minuets turned into hours… and soon the sky was a dark black. The pain still hadn’t subsided. He knew that something was broken. He had run out of tears to cry and his voice was horse.

Where was his mum… where was his brother? Had they forgotten about him? had they heard his plea of help?

It was when he heard that guttural roar in the sky. She was near. and he tried to scream. But he only let out a small whimper.

He heard leaved and twigs crunching behind himself. was rolled over onto his back. His brother looked at him with eyes that screamed panic. “Janus?! What the hell happened,”

He felt the breath leave his lungs as he realised, he had worried his brother. “m’sorry,” Janus mumbled almost inaudibly. “don’t you dare apologise for this. I shouldn’t have worried you enough to go looking for me. Oh, how the turn tables,”

Janus let out a chuckle, but tried to stop himself as pain radiated into his chest.

“come on, lets get you home,” Theodore smiled, “and I won’t leave you. No matter what. I promise.”

His hair has gone grey. He passes every day They say he walks the length of the city

“we can’t!” Janus yelled as he slammed his hands down on his desk. “what’s the harm in doing so! You’re not one of us anymore. Your Janus deceit sanders! Why should you be scared about us showing face?” “they hate us with a seething passion. You know that!” “its been seven years, we’ve hidden away for long enough,” depression growled. “I can’t do it.” “fine then,” Theodore turned and walked away.

 Janus sat alone on his bed that day, this was the longest he had gone without Theodor in ages and the fear was beginning to set in… what if he hated him? What if he didn’t return… what if he refused to be his bother anymore? his body began to rock back and forth, he was gripping his hair, ready to pull it out at any given second.

He hadn’t realised what he had done until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. he snapped his eyes open to be met with a familiar grey hoodie. He sucked in a breath. “hay, are you a new side around here?” he asked gently as he pulled away from the hug. I only stared at him intensely…” Janus… my name is Janus.” “I’m Virgil. Its nice to meet a new side. What are you exactly then?” “I’m…” he froze before realising he only had one option, “I’m deceit, I help him lie his way out of potentially dangerous situations and lie to him so he can get want he wants,”

You knock me out, I fall apart

He sat in his new room. It had almost been a year… Christmas was coming around the corner and he was terrified. Had Theodore forgotten about him already? Was he doing better… did he care?

He shook his head and picked up his hat and placed it on his head. He wiped away the stray tear that slipped from his eye and stared at the door. he opened it and left for the dark side’s commons. A blank look on his face. It was better for him to hide his emotions. He looked around the space. Halloween tinsel hung on the walls. They didn’t have any other colour apparently. Not that they had minded all that much.

He walked down the hall, his shoes clicking on the floor as he made his way to the commons. He wouldn’t be celebrating this year. He didn’t know if he would be able to take the emotional turmoil.

His once childish appearance had been replaced for his sleeker clothing. He had taken on the villain look with a bit of a struggle. But if that’s what he needed to be to find a family. Then he would.

He hadn’t spoken much since he had arrived… well… ever since he had split, he hadn’t spoken much.

“you shouldn’t block those feeling you know,” Virgil said as he looked curiously at the other. “I’m not good at much else,” I muttered. “you always have time to change, everyone does,” he patted Janus on the back.

Can you imagine?

Janus slept in that Christmas. A heavy weight lying on his chest. A numbness he wasn’t aware a person could feel seeped into his bones. The sweet sound of his sobbing was the only thing to enter his ears.

He missed his brother. They had spent so long together… and now they weren’t. he didn’t know how his brother was. He hadn’t made the effort like Janus had to try and talk. it was like the other had vanished completely. as he lay tucked under the sheets like a burrito, he heard the knock on the door. But he didn’t answer. He didn’t say anything. whoever was on the other side still opened the door. He couldn’t tell who it was from his position facing the wall.

“Janus…” Virgil. of course, it would be him. He didn’t respond to the other. Instead he pulled the blanket further up. covering the lower half of his face. “Janus… please…we want to know what wrong; we can’t help otherwise.”

“am I a bad person?” Janus hushed. “what?” Remus muttered staring at the lump of blankets,” of course you’re not!” he growled. “heh… I wish I could believe that…” he whimpered into the blanket. “I don’t know where this came from or how long you’ve been thinking this. But you are one of the kindest people we know. And it would take a LOT for us to change our views,”

Janus let a weak smile form on his face as he sat up. he quickly rubbed his eyes. Normal tears falling from them. “thanks…” Remus laughed, “I think this is the first time we’ve seen you smile snake face. Keep it up and I might actually fall for you,” he sundered out of the room. “come out when your ready, there’s some things for you under the tree, and thanks for the new hoodie. I might start wearing it soon.” he walked out of the room. Leaving the other alone. And for the first time since he was created. He didn’t feel so alone without his other half. maybe he could make it through one year. but at least he had a family to do it with.

Look at where we are Look at where we started I know I don't deserve you, Janus But hear me out. That would be enough If I could spare his life If I could trade his life for mine He'd be standing here right now And you would smile, and that would be enough I don't pretend to know The challenges we're facing I know there's no replacing what we've lost And you need time But I'm not afraid I know who I married Just let me stay here by your side That would be enough

Virgil left… he was…gone. There one day. Gone in the morning. Janus locked himself in his room and screamed. He wailed and cried. He wanted his friend. He didn’t want him to leave. He was tired of people leaving. He wanted someone. He wanted someone who wouldn’t leave because he was always fucking up.

And then something in him went snap. he looked in the mirror and laughed. His eyes turning into black pools. His clothes shifting into the ones he had previously owned. His old childish look. His scales turning their deadly yellow and speckled with black.

He opened his door and slipped into Remus’s room, through his mirror and into the dark side of the imagination.

He ran and ran. He went as far as his legs could take him. His laughter rung in the air. Scaring away any beast that roamed the area.

The earth around him shivered in fear.

 When he finally stopped running. He found himself somewhere he hadn’t been in a long time. Between making sure the darks never found out about him and all the other things piling up on top. He was pretty packed down on time.

The vines grew thick on the rocks, hiding the entrance to his old home. He let his shoulders drop. a shaky breath left him as he made his way forwards.

And he froze.

His breath hitched and he surged forwards. The tower that once stood high and tall was shattered halfway up. he reached into the wreckage and dug away. How long was it like this? How long had his home been destroyed. How much more was he going to lose?

Then as he dug through the wreckage something pulled him back. Tugging him away, and he turned to face the other. emerald eyes that held unknown levels of sadness. The eyes belonged to Remus. “I… I can’t lose… I can’t…” and the wall that he had tried so hard to build between him and the world broke.

He screamed and cried into the others shoulder. He held on as tight as possible, fearing that if he let go, the other would leave. “you knew her, didn’t you?” “she practically raised me…” he whispered silently. Remus gripped Janus in a vice like grip. He connected his eyes with the other, “I won’t leave you. Either we go together or we don’t go at all. I won’t leave you alone. Not now. Not ever.”

If you see him in the street, walking by her Side, talking by her side, have pity

Remus had stayed true to his word. Despite all the opportunities. All their arguments… he hadn’t left his side. Hugging him when scared and letting him cry and not asking several questions in a spitfire fashion. and he returned the favour. He had been thankful for the other, that he never left his side. And then it happened. They had come up with a plan to join the light sides.

And it had not gone of well. It had taken all his mental energy when he realised, he’d been found out. “it’s me Virgil, aren’t we friends?” “I don’t think we are.

“I don’t like him and his creepy, snake face.”

“get out of here, jack the fibber.”

When he rose into the dark sides space he visibly shuddered before falling to his knees. he curled into the smallest ball… he wanted Theodore. He would know what to say… it had been so long… how much longer would it be until the other gave him a him he was alive and well? When would he save him from this hell, he was living in?

“Janus!” Remus yelled as he pulled the others hands away from his hair,” Janus stop!” his eyes sapped open the other stared at him with wide eyes. He slowly stepped back. He knew the other had snapped. But he didn’t know what would happen. “Janus…calm down for me, okay?” “I wanna go home.” He cried out. Remus looked at him with pain filled eyes. “I know, but for now you’ve just got me. And I know you want something better than me, but for now… you’ve just got to deal with this bag of dangerous ideas and existential crisis’s,” Janus pulled the other into a tight hug, “I love you Remus. Never forget that.” “friend zoning me?” Remus laughed. Janus stared at him with a sad smile before leaning forwards and pecking his cheek. “oh,” he muttered, turning every shade red.

Janus tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and averted is gaze. “i... I’m not good with emotions… I never have been, but… I’m certain about this and I know that you don’t- “

He was cut off by a pair of soft lips connecting with his own. they spent the night together curled together, content in one another’s embrace. And for now, he felt hole… maybe not for long. But that was fine.

Janus, do you like it uptown? It's quiet uptown

It was after the court room that Logan had started appearing around the dark scape. the two had been startled by his sudden appearance one day but now it felt almost… natural to have the other around.

Janus had been the first to realise the other had started what he had done so long ago. Block away his feelings from everyone else. he had been quick to confront the other about it.

They suppose it was after that did, they realise that they had fallen for the logical side. Remus and Janus spent time when Logan was asleep on their laps gushing about how cute he looked.

Then Remus’s time to shine arrived. and they knew that this was happening for two reasons. Get Remus accepted as apart of Thomas and get Logan the acknowledgement he needed desperately without him knowing their plan.

It had, much to his surprise, worked. Remus’s door shifted over to the light sides area. He waited as he watched everything from Thomas’s eyes. Laughing when Remus almost summoned him on purpose.

When all was done and said, he sat patiently. Five minutes became ten and ten became an hour. he felt his lip quiver as he cried silently. He wasn’t coming back… of course he wouldn’t… his tears poured from his eyes. H curled in on himself. Remembering every moment, he had been left. Was this worth it? was it worth being alive if he was always going to end up on his own… thought swirled dangerously in his mind.

Warm arms wrapped around him. Then another pair. He sobbed harder. He looked to his left, Logan’s familiar black shirt in view. He turned to his right to catch his shoulder piece. Remus was back.

His breath shuddered as he realised. that yes, indeed. He wasn’t alone. They had come back… they’d returned for him.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave without you. Roman just wanted to talk for a couple minuets but he lost track of time. I’m sorry for leaving you this long sunflower,” he sounded so guilty it sent a spike of regret into Janus. “i.. I would like to help. And I think I know how to do it,” Logan said. the two turned to face him with wide eyes. “how?” Janus asked. “Thomas will be emotionally vulnerable during the period after the wedding. He doesn’t want to go. But I have a feeling the others will try and get him to lie to himself,” he paused for a second, “if things go south on my end, drag me out and replace me. Try and get through to Thomas.”

Janus stared in awe at Logan before leaping onto him with a hug. He quickly pulled back and leaned in and kissed the side on the lips. Logan froze for a second before kissing back.

When they stopped to breath, Remus began to laugh loudly. A blush on both Logan and Janus’s cheek. “I thought you two were- “ “were open to a poly,” Janus replied slyly. “only if you want to dork,” Remus grinned. Logan’s lips twitched into one of the widest, blinding smiles they’d both seen, “I’d love to.”

They spent the night in the dark scape cuddling, Remus and Logan’s body warmth sending Janus to sleep as the documentary played in the background.

He is trying to do the unimaginable See them walking in the park, long after dark Taking in the sights of the city

He stared at the space where his door used to be with a wide smile. He held both Logan and Remus’s hands. it had been several months since then. He was now one of the others, contributing when needed. Sure, roman and Virgil were wary of him… but that was okay. He had his bluebell and poison ivy by his side.

“it’s strange…” Remus muttered. “what is?” Janus asked staring at a part of what made him whole. “I… just feel like this isn’t over is all… that something big is coming. I can’t place why,” he said grimly. “well… that’s the future, for now… lets go and get some sleep tonight.” “come on… you enjoyed last night,” Remus said wiggling his eyebrows.

Janus laughed and elbow him in the side. Logan laughed at them. “I’m with Janus on this one. Sleep does sound nice today.” “fine,” Remus drawled.

Janus wrapped his arms around their waists and lead them out of the dark sides area. a wave of nostalgia hit him with every turn… “do you mind if I show you guys something?” he said as he stopped walking. “sure, I don’t mind a small detour,” Logan said. “of course my dear sunflower,” Remus grinned.

Janus grabbed their hands and sprinted as quickly as he could, dragging the other two behind himself. they only took a couple more turns before coming face to face with a large mirror. It didn’t show their reflection though.

He adjusted their hands in his grip and walked into the mirror.

Look around, look around, Janus

They arrived in the forest that he hadn’t seen in years. A small segment that even the twins couldn’t get to. Only accessible by someone who was a nightmare. not that he would tell them that any time soon. he pulled them along quietly, pulling them along a trail that seemed to have barely been disturbed by the surrounding land.

And there it was. A clean field with an open canopy of stars glittering in the sky, ouroboros lit the sky in beauty and style.

“is that… how,” Logan marvelled to himself. “how did me and roman not find this?” Remus muttered to himself.

They laid down and stared at the sky. The sky seemed to almost hypnotise all three of them but all for different reasons.

“are you okay?” Logan asked as he turned his head to Janus. said side reached his gloved hand up to his face. Wiping away the tears that seemed to fall as quickly as he tried to get rid of them.

“I’m fine…I promise,” he could taste his own lie… his mother had been the one to show Janus and Theodore the incredible view on that birthday night long ago.

Logan cuddled into Janus along with Remus. All three fell asleep in a silent slumber. Anything that had been troubling them forgotten.

Janus’s final thought crossed his mind…happy birthday brother. one final tear escaped as he slipped into sleep.

They are trying to do the unimaginable

He stared at his bedroom wall. It had been around a month since he had woken up. still bed ridden thanks to his leg. He stared at the door longingly with his one eye…

Would he come? Would he show himself and help him get through this like he had done for his brother all those years ago? a feeling flooded him. For the first time… he laughed sadly to himself and he stared at the celling. for the first time. He knew, he knew the other wouldn’t come. Why wate hope on the impossible. he was forgotten by the other. All the times they’d spent together were blurry to the other now. Barely any memories remained from when his brother was by his side.

He couldn’t make himself hate him though. As much as he would love to punch the other in the nose… that wasn’t him. He couldn’t hurt him no matter what happened. “I’m sorry,” he whispered lightly as he stared at the celling. a weight seemed to lift of him in one fowl swoop. Why did he bother thinking about something that would never happen?

He may have wanted his brother, but that doesn’t mean his brother wanted him. And that wasn’t fair on Theodore.

Patton opened the door and looked at the other with wide eyes, “what happened? Are you in pain? Do you need Logan or Remus?” he fussed as he moved the blanket further up Janus. “I… think I’m going to be okay eventually, it might take a while. But I might be okay one day,” he smiled weakly at the other.

He had a family now… if his brother didn’t care about him. Then that was Theodore’s loss. Not his. If he didn’t care about Janus. Then he didn’t care. Not anymore.

His brother made his decision long ago. Now he had made his.

He unconsciously rubbed the two rings on his finger. A happy smile on his face as he looked over to Patton. “can you get my two idiot fiancé’s in here?” Patton laughed, “of course, don’t worry they will be here within seconds.” “…Patton?” “yes?” “thank you for everything. I know im not the most honest person at the best of times… but I still thank you for trusting me despite all of that,” “no problem kiddo,” he ruffled Janus hair and left.

He had a new family now.

There are moments that the words don't reach There is a grace too powerful to name We push away what we can never understand We push away the unimaginable They are standing in the garden Theodore by Janus’s side She takes his hand

They sat in the commons. Logan wore a black suit along with Remus, Janus was wearing a white dress, the knee length showing his legs. a wide smile on his face as he chased Remus who had run of with his bouquet of bluebells, sunflowers and fake ivy.

Laughter rang in the air like a beautiful melody. Patton and roman watched on with enthusiasm Virgil was taking pictures of everything. Thomas stood next to Logan talking about the day that he had gotten together with the other two.

A peaceful aura surrounded them all.

Theodore peaked his head from behind one of the trees that lead to their childhood forest with a smile wide on his face. “congrats baby brother,” he whispered, small tears falling from his eyes as he saw how much his brother had changed.

Janus paused and looked around for a couple seconds. But as his eyes laned on the tree line, Theodore was gone. he shrugged and continued to chase Remus once again. Surrounded by everyone he loved.

It's quiet uptown

[mawritesbnha]

@ mrsakabaka-karma : Can I request bakugou walking in on female reader (who's his girlfriend) practically screaming the lyrics to a fan made song of his. (Bakugou by Kamil specifically) He's comes in to see why the fReak their musics so loud, the base was practically rattling the house!  So anyway, when he walks in they're bopping and just freaking out over the lit song. Im dying to know his reaction.

I started writing headcanons and then I realised maybe you were asking or an imagine... I hope this is okay darling 💖

Also... I’m not a fan of either rap or Bakugou... but this song is... oddly catchy??? Kudos to Kamil!

Smoochies from Ma!

as a pro hero, Katsuki had many fans (nevermind his angry hedgehog ways, that’s what they like about him)

so of course fan songs were a thing

Bakugou knew about the concept and even though it boosted his ego, he didn’t actively look for them or listened to them, he had other things to worry about

people can waste their time however they want and adulating him is as valid an option as any

but yeah he doesn’t care that much about it

so when he comes home one day and hears you blasting some music and screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs he doesn’t immediately recognises the song

he’s ready to scold you for making such a fuss but he also wants to tease you about your musical tastes so he sneaks inside in the quietest way possible and listens in

“IM THE BEST, AINT NO HERO BUT ALWAYS BEEN VET NIGGA IF YOU GOT AN ISSUE AP SHOTS UP TO YO NECK I DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT NO ONE ILL SAY IT NO REGRETS BITCH IM ONLY HERE FOR ME IM AT THE TOP AND YOULL RESPECT”

“uh? getting cocky now, are we?” he can’t help but think as he silently takes off his shoes and makes his way towards the kitchen where the music is coming from

“GRENADIER BRACERS ON MY WRIST, IM ABOUT TO PULL THE PIN COME AT ME WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT OR IMA MELT OFF ALL YOUR SKIN HOWITZER IMPACT IF IM PISSED, BITCH I TOLD YOU IMA WIN BITCH GET BACK BEFORE I BLAST, I SAID I'LL DO IT WIT A GRIN”

“wait what? grenadier? howitzer impact?” understanding starts to dawn on him as he pushes the door open and sees you jumping up and down, making some ‘gangsta’ gestures with your hands while using a a big wooden spoon as a mic

“Like I’m Bakugo, turn they soul to fuckin smoke Bitch I’m boutta pop, bitch you know I’m boutta blow up Only need these hands I don’t need no fuckin pole Once I get a grip, I might blast yo fuckin dome uUUWWAAA K-KATSUKI?!”

he stares blankly at you for a moment, taking it all in, giving you enough time to turn off the music, and then...

oh boy

OH BOY

he gives you the grin as he crosses his arms and looks you up and down

you can feel the pride and smugness radiating off of him

“so...that’s what you do when I’m not around?”

if you act shy and try to deny everything or just drop the subject he is going to be SO ANNOYING

he’ll tease you endlessly honestly, sometimes humming the song himself just to see you getting flustered

btw he’ll insist on listening to the whole thing

if you’re not embarassed though and keep on singing, giving him a show, or at least insisting that he listens to the rest of it he might get flustered

tsundere boi still has a long way to go with emotions and your blatant adoration might get too much and he’ll just close himself off

don’t worry though, he’s a mess, but a happy one

he always thrives to be the best but I don’t think he’d worry that much about being popular

except when it comes to you, he wants you to be his #1 fangirl

obviously he’d want you to have other interests in life

but come on, he’s a man, he has his ego (you don’t say)

so yeah to sum it all up

he

is

P L E A S E D

[eldritchsurveys]

761.

Does anyone know your bank pin number other than you? Who? >> Yeah, Sparrow does.

Have you ever had a boyfriend/girlfriend who was depressed? >> Sure.

Would you be able to climb out your bedroom window to sneak out? >> Absolutely not, I live on the third floor. --Well, I could climb out, and I might even survive, but... let’s just say it’s pretty goddamn risky. Anyway, I’m an adult and I don’t have to sneak out of my own apartment, so it’s irrelevant.

What would you do if you found out the last person you called was pregnant/got someone pregnant? >> ---

Can you taste the difference between brand name food and store brand food? >> Depends on the food. Some foods are pretty easy to dupe and it’s not a problem, but not all of them.

Would you be embarrassed to buy pads/tampons/condoms? Which one more? >> No, dude.

If a stranger went in your bedroom, would they be able to tell what gender you are from just looking at it? >> I don’t know what someone would guess, it depends on what people use as markers for gender. Besides, I don’t subscribe to a specific gender, so whatever they’d guess would be wrong regardless.

Are your parents gullible? >> ---

Do you still own a VCR? >> I’ve never owned a VCR. By the time I left home, DVDs had won the battle.

About how much money have you spent on food in the past two weeks? >> I haven’t spent any money on food. Sparrow’s unemployment checks have paid for the groceries, because just one of those was still more than I get in a month.

If you were in a car accident would the last person you kissed care? >> I mean, of course the Inworlders would care.

If you were looking for a new pair of shoes where would you go? >> I wouldn’t go anywhere, right now. But in general, I still have no idea where I would go. I’ve always hated shoe shopping, almost more than I hate other clothes shopping.

How much was the last pair of shoes you bought? >> The last pair of shoes I got were about $70 or $80. I didn’t buy them, Sparrow did.

What color is the computer/laptop you’re on? Did you buy it yourself? >> Silver. No, Sparrow’s Best Buy card bought it.

Do you have a second home? >> No.

Would you be surprised if you saw the last person you texted smoking? >> A little, yeah, because the last time I saw her smoke anything was back when I first got here and was still a smoker myself.

Does the smell of cigarettes, weed and beer repulse you? >> The smell of cigarettes can be repulsive to me, which I’ve heard is pretty common amongst ex-smokers. Also, my sensory defensiveness is higher than it used to be, so. The smell of beer doesn’t usually repulse me, but that can vary depending on what kind of day I’m having. The smell of weed is often too strong for my liking, but I don’t necessarily hate it. I just can’t be around it for too long because of, I repeat, sensory defensiveness.

Was the last person you kissed younger or older than you? >> ---

Do you think people have any misconceptions about you? >> Well, duh. Just like I probably have plenty of misconceptions about other people.

Have you ever purchased Girl Scout cookies? >> Yeah.

Do you like waffles? >> Yeah.

Do you watch birthing videos on a day-to-day basis? >> That... seems like one hell of a hobby.

Do you find piercings/tattoos attractive? >> I find them fun and interesting and cool to look at and talk about and learn about. I guess that can be summed up under “attractive”.

Would you talk to someone you don’t know on the internet? >> I always talk to people I don’t know on the internet, it’s kind of part of the experience (unless you just never use the social aspect of the internet).

How often do you drink Monster? >> Never, I hate Monster.

Have you ever made totally pointless videos with your friends? >> Maybe. I don’t really remember doing so, but it’s a possibility.

Do you like to buy those Warped Tour compilations? >> No, but I vaguely remember them.

Do you like sitting on the inside or outside of a restaurant booth? >> I don’t think I prefer one or the other by itself -- it’s usually a combination of different elements that determines whether I’ll sit on the inside or the outside of a booth.

Do you own a nightgown? >> No.

Have you ever made a house out of a giant cardboard box? >> No.

Have you ever made a tent out of sheets in your bedroom? >> No.

Do your grandparents know how to operate a cell phone? >> ---

Have you ever had sex or something like it? >> Yes to... both?

Have you ever read a George Orwell book? >> No, because though I started it, I never finished 1984.

Have you ever worn fishnets? >> Yeah, many times.

How many piercings and tattoos do you have? >> Two [sets of] piercings and three tattoos.

Is someone in your family affected by Asperger’s? >> ---

In a hotel do you always nose through all the drawers and cupboards? >> No.

Would you rather go out to eat or be eaten out? >> I’d definitely rather go out to eat, thanks.

Do you always wear your seat belt? >> Yeah. What’s funny is I was never made to wear one as a child. I had to get used to seatbelts in adulthood. I... have no idea why that is. Not a good look, though.

Have you ever liked someone much older than you? >> Sure.

Have you ever been in a play? >> Yeah, once.

Do you have any secrets that nobody knows about? >> I mean, I wouldn’t call them “secrets” because it’s not that deep, but yeah, there are plenty of things the average acquaintance doesn’t know about me.

Is there ice cream in your freezer? >> Yeah.

Have you ever started to laugh but played it off as a cough successfully? >> Probably.

Have you ever liked the lyrics of a band but hated the music? >> Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel about The Mountain Goats. The lyrics always seem interesting, but then I listen to the song itself and I’m like “bleh...”

Does your bathroom have a window? >> No, and god, I’d give an organ for a bathroom with a fucking window.

Do you go somewhere to get your eyebrows done? >> No.

When you were younger did you read the A Series Of Unfortunate Events books? >> No.

Who was the last band you saw live? >> Hozier and crew.

Do you believe prayer really works? >> It depends on what you expect prayer to do. I think it works greatly for focusing one’s mind and will, for feeling connected to whatever numinous force you’re into, and for the meditative effect. I also think it works to calm one down, to relieve stress, that sort of thing -- which can be helpful when you’re trying to heal from an illness or something, when you think about the body holistically. Now, if you want to claim that prayer literally causes divine power to come out of the universe and, say, completely eradicate a person’s cancer... well, I mean, I just don’t know about that, is all.

Are you a fan of the band Gym Class Heroes? >> No.

Frosted flakes or frosted mini wheats? >> I used to love frosted mini-wheats... it’s been forever since I had those.

Have you been on a date in the park? >> Something like that.

Ever dated someone you were best friends with first? >> Something like that.

Are there any diseases/health problems that run in your family? >> ---

Do you have asthma? >> Nope. I should have, almost everyone else born in my area at that time period was riddled with respiratory ailments. Bad air up in Elizabethport.

Are tongue piercings slutty? >> Sigh.

Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? >> That’s basically a foundational criterion for me to consider someone attractive, lmfao.

Last person to take off your pants, besides you? >> No one takes off my pants except me.

Do you remember those cool highlighters that smelled like popcorn? >> No.

Might you enjoy hanging out in the woods for day or two? >> Absolutely.

Have you ever written something on a bathroom stall? >> No.

Least favorite alcoholic drink? >> Hmm... I guess gin. Rarely will I drink a gin-based cocktail.

Have you ever kissed someone named Paul or Luke? >> Maybe? I don’t know.

How did you meet the last male you texted? >> ---

Have you ever had an embarrassing email address? >> No.

Do you put shampoo in your left or right hand? Left. I had to mime that. <-- lol yeah, same.

Do you have a bull ring through your nose? >> I mean, yeah, more or less.

Do you and your dad get along? >> :|

Can you see your purse right now? >> ---

Are you wearing any perfume? What kind? >> No.

Are there products in your hair? >> No.

When you get colds, do you use nasal spray to help get your nose unstuffy? >> Sometimes, when I get aggravated enough.

Do you actually like sneezing? >> No.

Have you taken a shower yet today? >> No.

Do you have one best friend who is always there for you? >> ---

Do you wear skirts a lot? >> No.

Do you wear sweatpants a lot? >> I don’t have enough pairs to wear them a lot, but let me tell you, if I had more they’re pretty much all I would wear as far as outside clothing goes.

How many pairs of jeans do you think you have? >> I have three pairs, I don’t have to guess.

Do you like hoodies? >> I love hoodies.

Big ones or the form fitting kind? >> Big ones.

Do you wear polo shirts a lot? >> I never wear polo shirts.

Did you ever actually have a rubber duck? >> No.

Are you one of those people who claim to live with no regrets? >> I mean, I don’t necessarily feel great about everything I’ve done, but I’m not going to obsess about it either. All I can do is try to learn from my mistakes moving forward, and hope my brain doesn’t turn on me and make me do more things I’ll have to learn from. I don’t know, man, “regret” just doesn’t feel like a thing I fully comprehend.

Do you love your computer? >> I sure do. Both of them.

Do you drink coffee? >> No.

Do you basically like all of your clothes? >> Sure. When I stop liking them, I get rid of them.

Do you shop mostly with your parents, your friends, or by yourself? >> Either by myself or with Sparrow.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Requiem [Whumptober 2019 - Stab Wound]

Summary: Felix gets stabbed in front of someone that isn't quite like the others in his eyes. Someone whose voice he never wanted to hear this torn apart.

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (Blue Lions route, post-Timeskip, implied) Ship: Pre-Rel Annette/Felix

Content Warnings: Stabbing, major injury, depictions of blood, canon-typical violence.

Wordcount: 1,175 words

Notes: I've finally written actual whump for this challege, hurrah! It's only taken the 8th day for me to do that! I didn't quite think I'd write FE3H stuff for this Whumptober, especially when most of my friends seem to have jumped to other fandoms, or are at least less into the game as they used to be. Tbh, same, but I didn't see any other fandom I could write "Stab Wound" for (except maybe Trauma Center, but, heh... wasn't inspired for that one, you could say). I absolutely love Annette/Felix and am honestly surprised I've never written for it before. I think "Get Out Alive" almost was for them instead of just being Felix making it out of a battlefield while bleeding out (the prompt for it being "Bleeding Out", actually). Their support chain is one of my favorites of the game and I just really like their dynamic? And it allows me to pump out all the damn fucking musical imagery like there's no tomorrow, they open the floodgates of my metaphors. Anyway I love them and I've wanted to write them and this prompt seemed like a great choice

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

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Truth be told, Felix has always thought of fighting on a battlefield as a solitary, almost lonely experience. It’s always been to kill or be killed and counting entirely on one’s army is a sure way to end up deceased by the end of the day and, even worse, showing a severe weakness. As he hates dependence on someone else and vulnerability in almost the same amounts, he’s always carried his duty on with himself in mind and, piercing through the air, his leader’s orders. Relying on his instincts, techniques and observations is a much safer way to fight a war and nothing could ever change his mind about it.

 Although he may have counted a bit too much on his instincts.

 His ears pick up on a distressing sound. Instead of feeling enhanced by her singing voice, the lyrics melting away into a choir guiding his moves and thoughts, he hears Annette’s words being filled with pain, almost strangled. His eyes quickly follow to get a visual on the scene, rushing without thinking twice about it as soon as he sees her getting threatened by a guy almost twice her size and more than double her weight for sure, discarding the body he’s just slashed with his sword. His legs are almost running on their own at that point, adrenaline more than enough to serve as a substitute for the energy he’s just poured on the battlefield.

He won’t let this battle be her swan song, not before he’s heard her sing again and teased her on the lyrics and spontaneity of her habit.

 Alas, as he does to attack the axe wielder from behind with a sharp and to-the-point sword slash in the back, he doesn’t quite notice someone else sneaking up on him. When he does finally realize there’s a soldier waiting to kill him, it’s almost too late: their blades cross, and he feels like he’s getting punched, right before Annette’s horrified eyes. For a single moment, he wonders who is going to win, but he pushes his deep enough to inflict a mortal wound and, despite how ashamed he is of himself for having let his guard down this badly, he’s relieved to still be of the living.

 “F-Felix…!” Her voice still trembles, far away from the melodious tones she has in her mouth when she cleans the library or waters the plants. “Y-You…”

He turns his head towards her, about to reply with some witty banter, glancing quickly at the Kingdom’s forces winning against their enemy, when a sharp pain makes itself known on his flank. His sword drops on the grass before he can even think of catching it back, putting a hand on the suddenly sore spot. One of his knees buckle without warning.

“Felix!!”

 He looks at his fingers, noticing the red dripping from them and tainting the fabric of his gloves. Stretching an arm to recover his fallen weapon, the pain obvious and blurring his thoughts until they can’t be recognized. The wound is deep, he knows it from how lightheaded he now feels, the blood loss too major to be ignored. From all accounts, he’s potentially fatally wounded. If he’s won the ambush, he’s only done so by the skin of his teeth, and the blood keeps pouring.

 “I need help! Anyone, please, help us!!”

Annette’s voice is distorted by her fears and panic, her arms flailing widely in front of him. The singing usually haunting him everywhere he goes and whatever he does is now gone, instead replaced by an excruciating requiem. Surely he’s done for.

She kneels before him, letting go of an anxious breath, sniffling and sobbing. His knee buckles again, making him pitch forward, and she decides to instead put him on his back and look around, eyes sharp, the expression on her face constantly shifting between sorrow, fear and a fierce kind of anger he’s not seen her feel yet.

“I’m gonna repay you,” she tells him with hand sparking. “I’m gonna repay you, and you won’t die, and it’ll be fine, and Mercie’s gonna heal you, and it’ll all be okay, I promise,” she almost hyperventilates out, chest rising and downing at an ever-quickening pace.

 Not wanting to be quiet beaten in that territory, Felix tries rising to his feet, only for his own body to betray him at the last minute. Dammit, if he could just swing his sword around, he’d be fine being stuck there for a little bit, but he can’t even do that… His arms are weak, his legs have given up for now, and he has to watch Annette do all the dirty work he was supposed to be doing in the first place. Still, seeing this fierce side of her isn’t the most displeasing sight… If he wasn’t heavily blanking from his flank, if his head wasn’t feeling this heavy and this dizzy, it’d have been quite the sight to behold. Instead, he’s feeling his soul leave his body further and further, helpless, and he’d have rather died on the spot than be the witness of his own slow, disgraceful demise.

He also wishes Annette wouldn’t have had his blood on her delicate hands; but alas, it’s too late to have regrets.

 Eventually, after thunder upon thunder has struck the ground of the battlefield, Annette kneels back to him, examining the wound with tears in her eyes and horror plastered on her face. He feels like he should be telling her something to reassure her, but he’s never been good with words, and the state he’s currently in doesn’t make it any better…

“Mercie’s gonna be here soon, don’t… don’t worry! You won’t die!”

As if he was planning on doing so.

“Takes… more than that… to kill me…”

“I know…! I know, but you’re still dying, Felix!”

She isn’t wrong. In fact, she’s entirely right. He is dying and will be until Mercedes can do something about it.

 His consciousness, though, isn’t quite patient enough to wait for her to arrive to their position. Dammit… He’s always been impatient, but this is just ridiculous and ill-timed. He doesn’t want to die and wants even less to make Annette thinks he’s doing just that even further. He misses her smile even more so than he misses her songs, he figures, right as Mercedes’s voice echoes in the distance until it doesn’t anymore.

He holds on, clutching at the last shards of awareness he still has, as magic pieces back together some of the guilty wound. His vision dims to complete darkness while he’s being watched over by a gentle voice and a trace of the smile he’s wanted to see desperately all this time, leaving him with almost a sense of peace as he lets himself lose consciousness, certain he’ll somehow pull through it thanks to his companions.

 Seen like that, it’s quite the ironic fate and thoughts to have for someone like him; and yet, when he eventually wakes up, he can only show gratitude to the woman who saved him.

[pinelife3]

What Women Think Men Think

In the 2000 film What Women Want, Mel Gibson accidentally electrocutes himself with a hairdryer in the bathtub which for some reason gives him the ability to hear women’s thoughts. This comes at a great time for him personally and professionally as it allows him to perform well in his job as an advertising exec, woo the lovely Helen Hunt, and bond with his estranged daughter.

Sadly, the genius of What Women Want was not recognised by critics in its time and the film received poor reviews - however, it did perform well commercially, making it a great candidate for a gender-flip remake. Our prayers were answered earlier this year with What Men Want, in which Taraji P. Henson plays a sports agent who misses out on a promotion because she doesn’t get men. Surprising no one, What Men Want received worse reviews than the original, but managed to one-up it by also being a commercial disappointment.  I haven’t seen it (I hear it is genuinely unwatchable) but from Wikipedia I gather that she drinks some magic tea and then can hear men’s thoughts which... makes her good in bed but doesn’t lead to as much professional success as you might expect. While What Women Want, directed by the great Nancy Meyers, is about a chauvinist learning to respect women, What Men Want is about a woman learning that most men suck and that they don’t deserve respect so it’s better not to work for them. What Men Want was directed by a man which, if you ask me, seems kind of pandering: why would a man make a film about how cartoonishly awful men are?

The rough premise of both What X Want films is that when the protagonist has access to the inner thoughts of the opposite sex, what they hear is revelatory: the opposite sex is apparently unknowable, inscrutable, vastly foreign. It requires magic (or bathtub electrocution) to know what others really think. Ha! Well, I have that magic. A portal to another world. A world where men, unobserved, unfettered by social barriers, freely say whatever they really think of any idea, image or product you present to them: Reddit.

I’ve often complained to Matt that practically any post on Reddit which features a young and/or attractive female woman girl will draw comments from men saying that they’re going to jerk off to the picture. Why do you think we care that you’re going to mash your genitals while watching this gif of a girl in a bikini using a homemade water slide? Why did my eyes and mind have to be subjected to this information about your plans for the afternoon? Did that first improbable spark of life, apes descending from trees, straightened spines, the birth of technology, everything our forebears strived for across eternity, really lead up to this moment where you wrote that on the internet? Why are we pack animals?

So the shtick of this blog post is: I sneak about on Reddit to find out want men want, what they care about, and think about. But! We ladies don’t care what they think about beer and barbecues (we already know that all men are practically BBQsexual, am I right?) so let’s identify a few things where we do care about what they think. 

For our purposes, I think women only care about men’s opinions on women - and possibly also sexual politics. For sports, most political issues, food, music, etc. I think we all agree that if you ask a man what he thinks, he’ll probably give you a pretty straight answer. The fantasy of knowing what men really want is that it’s information you would not normally have access to, because you’re too shy to ask, or you’re concerned his answer would be evasive or dishonest. Most people aren’t dishonest because they’re mean liars. They’re dishonest because they doesn’t want to hurt your feelings - or perhaps because they can’t be bothered to argue. So some of the impulse to eavesdrop on someone’s thinking is an insecurity, it’s suspecting they’ve withheld or softened an opinion - and wanting to know the full truth even if it’s hurtful. 

In particular (and mostly because I want to talk to someone about these books), I’m going to pick ideas from Sally Rooney’s novels to compare romantic men as written by a woman with the actuality of men on Reddit. Rooney writes love stories (or at least love-adjacent stories) which are widely read by women and have been enormously popular: this to me suggests that her idea of romantic men has resonated with many women and therefore it may be interesting to see if the interiority of the men she’s written could exist in the real world (or, at least on Reddit).

My methodology for trawling Reddit for relevant information is simple:

1. Is the attribute mentioned in Reddit’s NSFW directory? I don’t want to solely rely on the Reddit NSFW directory as a barometer for men’s interest in things, but I believe when trying to assess what men find attractive, this is a decent tool. I would venture to say that every (legal) niche interest is addressed by a NSFW subreddit: gamer girls, women in sundresses, redheads, anime princesses, cute girls, sexy girls, skinny girls, mums, teens, big boobs (attached to women with rich interiorities, I’m sure), mascara stained tears, and so on forever. Related to this: just because a subreddit exists to address a particular niche (e.g. braces), this doesn’t mean all men find that age group, attribute, body type, piece of clothing, etc. attractive - but it at least illustrates that someone found it attractive enough to create a community dedicated to it.

2. Is the attribute mentioned in any of Ask Reddit’s 'Men, what’s one unusual thing you find really attractive about women’ type threads? Men seem to sense that these threads are always started by women, so the responses are more romantic than sexual. Dudes tend to say the ‘unusual things’ they find attractive are freckles, when women can’t reach things on high shelves, messy up-dos, etc.

Question 1: Do men like the pale, non-sexy parts of women?

In Rooney’s second book Normal People, the male protagonist spends a lot of time looking at the female protagonist and admiring her pale delicacy.

You look really well, he says.

I know. It’s classic me. I came to college and got pretty.

He starts laughing. He doesn’t even want to laugh but something about the weird dynamic between them is making him do it. ‘Classic me’ is a very Marianne thing to say, a little self-mocking, and at the same time gesturing to some mutual understanding between them, an understanding that she is special. Her dress is cut low at the front, showing her pale collarbones like two white hyphens.

Later, he admires her pale lips and wrists: 

He hasn’t seen her in person since July, when she came home for her father’s Mass. Her lips look pale now and slightly chapped, and she has dark circles under her eyes. Although he takes pleasure in seeing her look good, he feels a special sympathy with her when she looks ill or her skin is bad, like when someone who’s usually very good at sports has a poor game. It makes her seem nicer somehow. She’s wearing a very elegant black blouse, her wrists look slender and white, and her hair is twisted back loosely at her neck. 

Women hope men think of them in this way: that men closely observe us and like what they see, that they can thrill romantically at non-sexy parts of our bodies like our under eye bags or bony elbows, that they’re so devoted they like us even when we’re sickly. Lolita has this to thank for its enduring popularity. Sure, Humbert Humbert is a broken man and a pedophile but he’s so lyrical:

I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man's child. She could fade and wither - I didn't care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.

Men want to be him, women want to be adoringly described by him. 

Anyway. Let’s check Reddit to see what men really think of pale wrists and collarbones - or if they think of them at all.

There are no communities in Reddit’s NSFW directory focused on wrists or collarbones or any bony protrusion through pale skin. There is a subreddit dedicated to NSFW content featuring pale girls with ~420,000 subscribers but the focus of this content is sexy areas of the body (enormous pale breasts, perfect pale butts, etc.) and there is not much coverage of pale wrists and/or collarbones.  

I also couldn’t find any references to pale non-sexy parts of women in any AskReddit threads related to things men find attractive about women. 

Conclusion: I do not believe that men as a cohort are particularly into dark under eye bags, bony chests, etc. These are just things women wish men liked about them.  

Question 2: Do men like damaged women?

In Rooney’s first novel, Conversations with Friends, the protagonist has the following conversation with her ~lover~ in bed:

I want you to hit me. I don’t think I want to do that, he said. I knew that he was sitting up now, looking down at me, though I kept my eyes closed. Some people like it, I said. You mean during sex? I didn’t realise you were interested in that kind of thing. I opened my eyes then. He was frowning.  Wait, are you okay? he said. Why are you crying? I’m not crying. Incidentally it turned out that I was crying. It was just something my eyes were doing while we were talking. He touched the side of my face where it was wet. I’m not crying, I said. Do you think I want to hurt you? ...  I don’t know, I said. I’m just telling you that you can.

In Normal People, the protagonists have a similar exchange during sex:

Will you hit me? she says. For a few seconds she hears nothing, not even his breath. No, he says. I don’t think I want that. Sorry. She says nothing. Is that okay? he asks. She still says nothing. Do you want to stop? he says. She nods her head. She feel his weigh lift off her. She feels empty again and suddenly chill. He sits on the bed and pulls the quilt over himself. She lies there face down, not moving, unable to think of any acceptable movement. Are you okay? he says. I’m sorry I didn’t want to do that, I just think it would be weird. I mean, not weird, but... I don’t know. I don’t think it would be a good idea.

in the context of these novels, this behaviour is a form of self-harm from women who hate themselves: even those I’m closest to want to take advantage of me, will do what they want with me, will hurt me if I let them. The perfect men, confused and innocent to this self-destructive behaviour, are concerned and decline the offer. The women interpret this as a form of sexual rejection but the reader knows this rejection is actually romantic. Could we really thrill over a man who agreed to beat her? No one talks about 50 Shades of Grey anymore but Mr Darcy lingers in the minds of mothers and BBC-watching daughters the world over. Rooney’s romantic leads are very nice men for not hitting the protagonist during sex. 

Importantly, while the offer of subservience and sexual violence is not an immediate aphrodisiac, it adds to the overall appeal of our lady protagonists as women who are soft, damaged, not easily available, but also deeply vulnerable. Bob Dylan muses, basically (she’s delicate and seem’s like veneer. Sidebar on that line: I heard it when I was 17 and was jealous because it’s so good. Turns out this line is hotly contested in places where people contest Dylan lyrics. One tribe thinks it’s: she’s delicate and seems like veneer. Another tribe thinks it’s: she’s delicate and seems like the mirror. The tribe which is 100% wrong thinks it’s: she’s delicate and seems like Vermeer.). 

These books both have this thread of college-aged women who hate themselves and want to be mistreated by their lovers, and lovers who are perfect and sensitive enough to like the control they have in the relationship, but not abuse it. My read on this is that women like to think that men like to save damaged women. Damaged meaning women who are clearly dealing with one or more of the following: 

Untreated mental health problems

Self-medication dependencies 

Daddy issues

Memories of growing up with violence/abuse/Teletubbies/war crimes/poverty

Heavy baggage from previous relationships

You know what I mean. So, let’s check Reddit to see what men think of damaged women. In the NSFW directory there are a number of BDSM subs, most of which are focused on women being dominated by men: women trussed up in elaborate rigs of ropes and straps, women being used in various ways, beaten, dominated. Most of these subs have between 100,000 - 200,000+ subscribers. This would indicate that there are a decent number of Reddit users who are interested in hurting their sexual partner. 

(DISCLAIMER: I don’t mean to kinkshame. ContraPoints (I think in this video) argued that while it’s fine to be into BDSM and enjoy being hurt or hurting someone else, it does suggest some things about you. BDSM isn’t just fun. No one wants to be tied up and beaten/pissed on for no reason. You want those things because it means something to you to be treated badly or to treat others badly. Liking BDSM doesn’t mean you’re damaged, but it might mean something adjacent to that.)

Furthermore, re: Reddit’s attitude to ‘damaged’ women, any time a guy on Reddit tells a ‘crazy ex’ story, someone from the 3 brain cells club will flop out an old cliché: don’t stick your dick in crazy. Men like to warn each other about damaged women. That cliché often attracts a popular counterpoint:  

Crazy chicks are good in bed! What a treat: there are perks to dating a damaged woman. More than anything, men on Reddit love acting like they know a lot about women and wild sex. A damaged, compliant woman is great for clocking up these experiences.

I think we can say that some men do indeed like damaged women. The impression you get from Reddit is that a lot of these men would take advantage of the vulnerable Rooney protagonists, but that’s the point even within the novels: the man could have said yes, could have hit her - which the reader wouldn’t find romantic because we know that on some subcutaneous level she didn’t really want to be treated that way. A lot of romance only reads as romantic because we’re aware of the unromantic alternative: what if Richard Gere had treated Julia Roberts the way most men treat prostitutes? What if Bob Dylan compared a beautiful, mysterious woman to the 17th century Dutch painter Vermeer? 

In the final act of What Women Want, Gibson loses the ability to hear women’s thoughts. The point the film makes is that he’s been so reformed by hearing women’s perspectives and relating to them as actual human beings, that he doesn’t need magic anymore to behave like a nice person. This is also because it would not be romantic to be in a relationship with a man who was eavesdropping on your inner monologue. If the relationship is real and working, then you don’t need psychic powers to anticipate how the other person is going to feel and respond to things. You can always just ask - and you’ll have to trust that the answer is honest. 

Bonus: more of that lovable scamp Mel Gibson: