#on the other hand O- is *rare*... irl anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecontumacious · 2 years

Note

hi!! hello!! how are you? i hope you're having an amazing day/night :D i just saw that you're taking requests again so i have an idea that has been rotting my brain and because i really like your writing (you have me giggling and kicking my feet but i never said this) i thought it would be a good idea to ask you about it !!

anyways- my request is luxiem finding their s/o (who's usually on the quiet or less energetic side) dancing their heart out in the kitchen at like 3AM :'))

feel free to skip this request if you want to!!

The World All to Yourselves

a/n: I'M BACKKKK and it's summer holidays so i'll be going a bit crazy with reqs >w< god this character text limit thing is such a pain in the ass my hand is all cramped up from having to constantly reformat this TT

DISCLAIMER: concerning what had recently happened with vox and his community, i want to remind you again that this fic, existing fics and future fics are purely fiction and should not be seen as something to be projected irl. it's merely to entertain and also considered fanart. remember, this applies to not only vox. this applies to ALL of nijisanji and considerably, all other fandoms.

your boyfriend was on a business trip to meet up with the rest of the luxiem members for an off collab. and as much as he pleaded that you tag along, you heavy heartedly refused his offer with your work piling up on your shoulders like a mountain. it would take a week, he said, but it felt super long to you both.

you can see why he begged you to come with him. but well, duty calls and you can't exactly have everything you want in life. he would replace missing time with frequent calls when he's not streaming, video calling when possible with the rest of the members.

pain was visible in his eyes as he could only see you through a phone or laptop screen, so you always tell him that it won't be long that you'll reunite again. you keep reassuring him too that he'll have a lot of fun with the other members.

everything finally comes to an end and today is the day your v-tuber boyfriend will arrive home. unfortunately though, the flight he had to catch was scheduled for midnight and out of concern, he specifically asked you not to pick him up for safety reasons.

thus here you were, swirling your drink of choice in your hand as you looked out the kitchen window. the stars above twinkle every now and then as they watched you wait with anticipation for your beloved to come home.

you sigh, putting the glass aside before grabbing your phone. the house is too quiet, definitely because your boyfriend was not present. so, what do you do while waiting?

you open your music app.

Vox Akuma 👹🌹

fun as the off collab was with his beloved co workers, the strain on his shoulders heavily needed attention and tbh, so did his entire being after going so long without your sweet kisses and tight hugs

he really was going to bound you arms and legs next time this happens

an entire week without your adorable self under him

bah, not good :<

so he rushed his way home, thankfully earlier than he anticipated

knowing you, you were probably still awake so he snickered upon coming up with the idea of surprising you

he quietly shoves the key in and pushes the door open, pulling his suitcase with as little sound as possible

vox mostly expected you to be busy clunking around the apartment in your pajamas, watching a movie or a youtube video

not you shaking your ass to 'hope in the dark'

energetically rapping his part nonetheless

vox smirks, realizing he'd just discover the very rare moments of you like this

he knows you don't hide yourself from him, but seeing you truly be yourself with no one around?

it felt like falling in love with you all over again

the cheeky demon lets go of his luggage near the door and makes himself comfortable by leaning in the kitchen doorway, just enough that you won't notice him immediately

arms crossed and a soft smile plastered on his handsome face, all the while you're still jamming through luca's verse

"throughout the night party time~!" you melodize, spinning around 360.

vox struggles to hold back his erupting laughter as you bop your head wildly to the drop, your feet stomping in sync with the beats

another idea lights up in the demon's head and he tiptoes his way over to you, just in time to get to his part of the song

"hey lady, how do you feel?" he sings

you turn around with a yelp, eyes wide and your heart on the floor

vox smirks, but he doesn't stop. "you can be anyone you want."

he pulls you by the waist until you're up against him. "don't be afraid and live your life."

his hands make it to your face and brings you until you're within a one inch proximity with him. "the world is full of hope."

blood raises to your cheeks and you suddenly don't remember what lyrics are next. but did it really matter at this point?

"hm? not gonna continue singing, love?" he smirks, leaning in so your nose brushes up against his. "you had so much fun."

"h-how long have you been watching, huh??" you hiss, pouting as you looked away. but vox is quick to pull your gaze back onto him by using his fingers

"just enough to see you have all the world to yourself, darling," he sighs, leaning pass your face and into the crook of your neck. "you looked absolutely gorgeous by the way. a shame i don't get to see it often."

you curl your lip, face still bright red from the embarrassment. but all you could do was wrap your arms around vox

"welcome home, love," you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder as you tug onto his coat. "was the trip alright?"

"and you're gonna ignore my words, sweet thing?" vox pulls away and for a moment, you feel weak in the knees with the gaze that rained down upon you

then you feel him push you back until you hit the kitchen counters, his hand snug on the tabletop with you where he exactly wanted you to be

pinned against him, flushed and completely helpless

"v-vox..."

"hm? what is it, my love?" his finger goes to your temple and he gently slides it down your face

"ar-aren't you tired from the jetlag?" you whisper, his face inching closer again within seconds. "co-come on... let's get you to bed."

his hand drops and grabs something behind you, then realizing that he had taken your phone. he scrolled through it, making you raise your eyebrows

before you could ask, 'fly me to the moon' starts playing and somehow, this makes you much redder than when he pinned you against the counter

vox grins cheekily, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you both to the center of the kitchen

"let's dance a bit, darling. i've missed you," he breathes against your ear

you sigh and just follow along, admittedly wanting the exact same from how touch deprived you were this past week

vox grabs your hand and has the other placed on his shoulder before he starts swaying to the music

it was no surprise he knew some moves, being at least 400 years old

nothing else made a sound, nothing but the music and occasional creaking of the floorboards. the world seemed so quiet. like... it belonged to only you and vox.

you sink into his hold more, a smile creeping onto your face

you were at home in this crazy world, in the arms of your demon lover

"i love you," you mumble

you feel the rumble of his chuckle then slowly pulling away, grabbing your face into his hands ever so gently

he leans in for that long awaited kiss, passionate and lingering. "i love you too, darling."

other boys utc!

Mysta Rias 🦊🔶

mysta's body felt like it could collapse at any given moment, his nose stuffing up and the wind hitting his body a little too briskly tonight

"goddammit why do i always gotta be sick after these things??" he hisses to himself, stumbling down the hallway and half assed-ly shoving the key into the apartment

sure, he might feel like shit rn and the jetlag was too much for him to handle, but he's reminded of you once the smell of your apartment reached his nostrils

the tension built on his back dissolves almost immediately and mysta is quick to fantasize about cuddling you until morning

or forever maybe

he's about to call out to you, announcing his arrival when he hears your voice booming throughout the apartment, singing lyrics all too familiar to him

"don't hide what you wanna do, come on dadadadibadoo~" you muse. "get all things i want, i wanna do, wanna do, wanna do!"

mysta lets out a quiet snort, utterly shocked but also very humored by this new side of yours

compared to mysta, he was definitely the chaotic one in the relationship. he'd randomly sing lyrics out loud while you just laughed at his silliness

safe to say it's his turn now

maybe he should arrive unannounced more often...

mysta tiptoes to the source of your voice, the kitchen he thought

when he peeps through the doorway, you are indeed singing 'hope in the dark' like you had no cares for the world, all the while using a wooden spoon as your makeshift microphone

a wide, cheshire cat like grin reaches mysta's face and he can't hold back his laughter

it's only because you're not facing him that you hadn't stopped

"you don't have to say anything, because i can feel your all," you sing again, spinning around

the scene becomes too much for the detective can handle and his hand slips into his pocket, pulling out his phone before discreetly recording you

"throughout the night party time!"

mysta's eyes start to water, both out of amusement and the fact you looked so adorable at this very moment

there's only so much of you mysta gets to actually see on a day to day basis. and he understood that!

call him greedy or selfish though, because this is the side mysta would love to see a lot more

dancing like no one was watching (excluding him ofc) and singing one of your favorite songs, admittedly the one that prompted you to have fun and for once be careless of what the world tells you

at least, that's what 'hope in the dark' had personally taught mysta

unfortunately something pokes inside his nose, nudging his nerves and provoking the desperate need to sneeze

"holy fuck not now--" he hisses, but before he can attempt to hold it back, said sneeze comes and evidently ruins everything. "aChOO!"

you shriek, pointing your absolutely dangerous wooden spoon at the stranger who just sneezed behind you. "mysta??"

"aCHOO!" he wheezes, his nose stuffing up again. "ah dammit"

"could you have at least knocked, you ass? i could've beat you to a pulp with this spoon," you quickly reach over for a tissue, handing it over to your sick boyfriend

mysta giggles sheepishly, graciously taking it and blowing into it to hopefully clear up his sinus infection. "scary, babe."

"terrifying, if anything," you grin. you are about to pull him in for a tight hug when you noticed his phone, turned on and... on the camera recording?

your eyes widen with panic. "MYSTA WERE YOU--"

immediately realizing what you were fretting over, mysta laughs and pulls his phone away from you, raising it up high above so you wouldn't reach it

"ah, ah, ah, nope," he grins, you pouting as he was incredibly tall. "this is for me."

"MYSTA FUCKING RIAS DELETE THAT!!" you flail your arms while jumping, attempting to reach the damned device but to no avail.

you huff, crossing your arms. "fine. don't expect me to take care of that cold."

at that, mysta pauses.

you smirk, "well?"

"awee come on... just this one, please?" now he's the one curling his lip, pleading. you roll your eyes. he sighs, "okay, okay. just do this one thing with me okay?"

you raise your eyebrows as you watch him pocket his phone, walking pass you to reach for your phone on the countertop. he scrolls through your playlist and plays a song familiar to both you and him

"G4L?"

"come on, let me dance with you this once. you dancing around made me wanna do the same," mysta smiles, his empty hand beckoning you to come closer

unlike before there's a soft glimmer in his eye, so you sigh, taking his hand

once the beat got even more erratic, mysta starts bouncing on his feet, bopping his head while his shoulders shook in sync with the music

mysta was many things, being a dancer was not one of them unfortunately

but... somehow, as his terrible movements continued, your grin widened and you had the urge to move with him

you can't lie. mysta's taste in music was fantastic.

after a while, you finally decide to lose yourself in the music, shaking your hips and head to the beat

"yeah!" mysta smiles, taking your hands so you moved together this time. "you're doing good, y/n!"

"can't say the same about you, mysta!"

despite the jab, he laughs wholeheartedly and does not proceed to stop

it felt like a small party between you two, the stars above watching you begin to sweat from the rapid movements. you and him mouth the lyrics too, making it all the more entertaining

when the chorus finally came around, you and mysta completely lose it and danced to your heart's content

you could tell he was genuinely having a good time, his face glowing brightly

and to mysta, he's never felt more at home at this very moment.

he knew that you were the one as you let all inhibitions and insecurities go, showing but your raw and beautiful self

he held your hand and pulled you in, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

you giggle, pushing him off, "you're sick mysta! don't spread your germs on me!"

"oh shit right," he laughed, sniffling. but all that is forgotten as you and him danced some more that night

that video in his phone staying there for who knows how long :)

Luca Kaneshiro 🦮🔆

when i say he ran, he fucking bolted to your apartment bcs out of all the luxiem members, he's definitely the clingiest

it should be no surprise that he's super excited to see you again (especially after you insisted to him many times that he should save the private jets back home in fear that he'll get too exhausted)

but it was late where you were, thus why luca had decided not to call you upon stepping off the kaneshiro's private jet

he could just imagine you snuggled up with augustus asleep, waiting for him to come home

he might not look like it, but even luca kaneshiro's social battery can start to dwindle a bit

a night in with you in his arms, watching some movies (or his vods) or play some games felt like it could beat anything else

"ahhh thank god i'm finally home," he grins, his hand reaching the knob to the already unlocked door

but luca pauses.

"gonna start the game of love, i wanna shake your body and soul~"

luca turns to his watch: 2:57 AM

"jesus, what are they doing still awake? singing this loud too?" he chuckles to himself, choosing to open the door anyway

he steps inside, you still singing your heart out to 'hope in the dark' in the kitchen

with your back turned towards him, of course you don't immediately notice luca watching you wiggle your butt to his group's song

he crosses his arms, a huge grin on his face

proud almost?

how could he not be? look at you xixixi

"どうしようもなくキミの傍にいたい" you tune out again

luca then quickly steps forward, wrapping his arms around your waist while continuing to sing, especially since it was part of his song

"lonely lady shall we dance? i wanna make your heart smile," he sang along, spinning you around. "throughout the night party time!"

when luca starts dancing to the song, you can't help but be more amused than surprised by his arrival, covering your mouth as he continues to move while still holding you

"come on, hon, dance with me!" luca requests, swinging your hands around in an attempt to have you move too. shy and still quite startled by him coming in, you dance along minimally

"don't be shy, babe. you were dancing a lot more before i came in," he teases, evidently making you limit your movements even more

"sh-shut up, luca! you weren't supposed to see that," you mumble, pouting as you stopped dancing completely

luca sighs, grabbing your hands so that you fall onto his chest. "you were really cute though... i just wanted to have fun with you."

your face wasn't looking at him, but with his tone and his words alone, you knew that he was genuinely a bit disappointed

your heart ached to be honest, but you were also incredibly shy on dancing anymore since he caught you

his hands then make it to your hair, stroking it down all the while his other held onto your waist tightly. it was as though like you'd just slip away

it might've felt like that this entire week to him

ahhh poor baby

in an attempt to comfort his deflated heart, you lean back and press a kiss to his jaw, smiling, "welcome home, luca. i missed you."

you feel him chuckle, his hold onto you tighter. "i missed you more."

your fingers make it to his blonde locks and it was your turn to be combing through them. "i could feel it even from thousands of miles away, love. but i'm glad you're here with me now."

"me too."

luca pulls away from you, his hands now meeting your cheeks. you felt ever so safe in them, even more so that he's been gone this entire week. you melt into his touch.

"man, you look too cute like this," he muses, his lip curling as you laughed. "i knew i should've just packed you in my suitcase."

"maybe you should've, luca."

"i'll hold onto that promise, y/n!"

you giggle away, but then it dies down upon seeing luca intensely gazing at you. you tilt your head, worried, "luca?"

"i know you're shy about this but you know... " he trails off, looking away. "c-can i dance with you? j-just this once, i promise! i won't force you to do it again!"

this man had just traveled half the world for work and the moment he comes back, he doesn't immediately rest. all he wanted at the end of the day was to share a somewhat solitary moment with you, dancing to music you and him favored

were you really going to refuse him?

nope. not when luca is the one asking.

you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "alright, fine..."

and just like that, the familiar light returns to luca's lavender eyes. he's quick to grab your phone again and begins to explore through your playlist, probably looking for a song to dance to

"oh, it just had to be this song, huh luca?" you pout, your heart wrenching at the nostalgic feeling of the chosen song

"i thought 'hope in the dark' was too energetic. sooo i chose something slower! you and i love this song anyway," luca smiles, putting down the device as he pulled you tight against him once more

"i can't argue with you," you smile, starting to sway to the slow music. upon seeing you move under your own initiative, luca grins. happiness overflows from within his heart.

"i never knew you were the someone waiting for me," you softly tune, looking into luca's eyes. "cause we were just kids when we fell in love."

"not knowing what it was," luca continues, following you. "i will not give you up this time."

never. i never will. luca thought to himself.

"luca, why are you crying, baby?"

he blinks and you're right. warm tears fall from his eyes but the smile on his face never leaves.

"you're perfect for me is all. and i'll never ever leave your side, y/n," he rests his forehead onto yours. and what does he see? his future, his love, his world, his everything. all in his arms.

you may be shy, a bit timid and sometimes can't keep up with his wilder nature. but you're strong yet so comforting. the home he had been looking for.

luca leans down to kiss you, all his overflowing happiness sealed in the loving gesture. "i love you, y/n. so, so much."

tears start to prick your own eyes as you smile, "i love you too, luca. so, so much."

Ike Eveland 🖋💙

ike eveland wanted nothing more than to just collapse, preferably in your arms at this very moment

the offcollab was fantastic of course! but there's only so much ike can take so once everything had finally wrapped up, he was ready to hibernate

it didn't help that the airport was so quiet and the sky outside was dark

literally the perfect setting to fall asleep in

he honestly wished you'd come to pick him up, but it was the dead of night (almost morning even). there was no way he was gonna make you get out of bed just to get him

so with what energy he has left from the day, he hails a cab back home

even the sight of the building was enough to motivate him to at least change into pajamas later

ike finally reaches the door to your apartment, turning on the knob and pulling his suitcase in.

usually you'd be near the door to wait for him. but it's because of your absence that it makes ike long for you even more

he kicks off his shoes and is on his way to the bedroom to find you when he hears the familiar tunes to his song

and most importantly, you rapping to his part

"are you gonna go? canvas is still blank. but do it right you're gonna gain or pain. ideal and ambition, white darkness, hope in the dark~"

a chuckle stumbles out of ike's mouth and his once droopy eyes shot open for this moment. he tiptoes around and finds out you're in the kitchen

not only were you rapping, but your legs brought you all over the inches of the kitchen floor, happily dancing to 'hope in the dark' without much thought if you looked terrible

ike leans onto the doorway, crossed his arms as he watched you quietly

"wanna have a chance you will see what i mean, stay real, dance in the dark. make it a showtime it gives you luck. spend your life don't believe the hype!"

and ike doesn't even attempt to stop you

the exhaustion weighing on his back suddenly lifts off and he knows it's because of you

you and your little energetic movements at 3 am, you :<

there's a certain beauty unfolding before him. it didn't matter at all that you were in your old shirt, hair messy and your movements were not world class.

but the way you brought yourself made you look so much more attractive, like you were somehow enchanting him like the first time you met him

ike eveland at this very moment had never felt so happy and admittedly, proud that you agreed to be his. you, this beautiful being that had descended on to the earth just for him.

it's only when the song finishes that ike finally makes his presence known by clapping his hands gently

you shriek, backing onto the kitchen countertops

ike chuckles, "you sure had fun there, sweetheart."

blood rushes to your cheeks and you feel like jumping off a building right now

"we-welcome back, ike!" you smile sheepishly, bringing your hands together to hide the fact you were shaking out of embarrassment. "how was the trip home?"

"it was alright," he steps forward with the most innocent beam on his face. but don't be fooled. he does not have the purest of intentions now that he's caught you.

"i-ike, don't," you warn him, backing away even more

"don't what?"

"wh-whatever you're going to do!"

"i'm not doing anything!" ike laughs, raising his hands up. "you're being paranoid."

"not when my safety is on the line!" you pout. "now stay back until you can prove you're innocent!"

"sweetheart, i don't know what you're talking about. i am innocent. also, i just came home. all i want to do is just get some rest with you," now he's the one pouting

with that in mind, you groan, crossing your arms. you hesitate, but you open your arms anyway for ike. "alright, fine. come here."

he lets out a giggle as he wrapped himself in your hold, nuzzling into your neck like a bear cub finding refuge in its mother's fur

"thanks, sweetie," he mumbles. "i missed you."

"me too, ike."

...

"can i ask you a favor? just one, y/n."

your heart drops. but you breathe out, "what?"

"dance with me?"

you knew this day would come with this man

ike snickers, "i guess you were right in being paranoid."

"you're lucky i love you, you know?"

the man lets out another amused laugh, reaching for your phone. his finger swipes along your many selections of music, a mixture between yours and his favorite songs

then he settles on one

"awe man, this song? really ike?" you frown, ike placing the device back down

"i've always wanted to ballroom dance to this you know," ike admits, taking one of your hands in his and the other on his shoulder as per how ballroom dancing should be. then he looks you in the eye, joking but somewhat serious, "at our wedding, perhaps?"

"ike!" your cheeks return to being red once again.

"i don't hear any objections," ike ignores you, all the while grinning and pulling you towards the center of the kitchen. "come, älskling."

he's leading you, circling at the appropriate times and helping you step along. you might've stepped on his feet a few times, but honestly, the fact that you were trying for him made ike forget the pain

"ah, sorry!"

"it's alright, y/n."

as you struggle to keep up with ike, all he sees is your focused expression. adorable and absolutely too much for him to handle. he could imagine it, you know?

you and him dancing to the same ghibli song, but with time, he believed you'd be able to get the steps. yours and his hair grey, skin wrinkling with the years, but the same smiles and song.

"ike?"

"hm?" he turns to you.

"you were spacing out."

"oh," ike chuckles, squeezing your hand. "i'm fine. just having the time of my life."

Shu Yamino 🔮✨

(let's pretend that shu made it to their offcollab this time okay ;-;)

there really was nothing like the feeling of finally meeting up with your long distance friends/co workers.

and nothing like the feeling of not being able to interact with you in person for seven days straight.

shu doesn't seem like it, but he's clingy at heart and every time he has to end a video call with you, his finger finds it incredibly hard to actually press the end button

there were enough nights where you two would fall asleep in a video call together and have your phones dead by the morning (an inconvenience for you tbh since you had places to go to)

the other luxiem boys absolutely notice him getting distracted by the smallest of notifications popping up from his phone, ones that weren't even from you

so the moment everyone decided to wrap things up, shu is first to finish packing his things and bidding farewell

back to you

tired as he was the entire trip home, there was not a time he stopped thinking about you

were you asleep? watching a movie? playing on your phone? did you eat enough today? had enough water?

"i'm going crazy because of them," he mumbles to himself, a dazed grin decorating his face as he watched the sky through the airplane window

then, shu is finally in front of the door. luggage in hand and his heart open

he shoves the key in and turns the knob, letting himself in along with his suitcase in tow

"cutie? you awake?" shu calls out, softly at first afraid that you might actually be asleep. but when he expected to hear a 'welcome home, shu' or nothingness because you were asleep, his ears instead catch wind of... you singing to his part in 'hope in the dark'

"you don't have to say anything, because i can feel your all~" you melodize, and even from the sound of your voice, he could tell you were smiling. "throughout the night party time!"

then the sound of feet stomping on the floor in beat with 'hope in the dark'

you were many things

but shu never figured you were this silly

and to be doing this in the literal dead of night just-

the sorcerer lets out a snort, deciding to tiptoe to wherever you were. he needed to see this before he was never given this opportunity ever again

and indeed there you were, stomping your feet according to the song all the while sliding around and your head shaking at the right tempo

also was that a whisk you were using as your microphone...?

"HOPE IN THE DARK~~~"

his heart felt like it was going to burst at any point and time just seeing you so adorable, shaking your head around like it was nobody's business

but most importantly, he was incredibly happy that you could spare yourself some time to simply have fun like this

shu is very well aware himself that time keeps running in this world. the universe won't ever stop for you. but with this in mind, it's very easy to forget to make time for yourself in this crazy place

make time to just forget about things for a bit, forget that your flaws and worries exist

so to see you, one of the most important (if not the most important) person in his life do this...

sigh, he has never felt more glad

and tbh?

he wanted to join in on the fun

shu knocks on the doorway and you immediately freeze up, turning around slowly with a pale face like you'd just hear a ghost creeping up on you

your lover merely chuckles at you, "sorry, is this where the party is supposed to be?"

"sh-shu h-hi!" you look at your whisk and immediately put it behind your back, a very embarrassed smile and cheeks extremely flushed. "welcome back, babe!"

"hi to you too, cutie," shu comes in the kitchen and opens his arms to you. "where's my welcome home kisses and hugs?"

"al-alright you big baby."

you know he's just teasing you, especially with that stupid whisk you just picked up :/ damn sorcerer just wanted to see you put it away awkwardly

so you place it on the countertop behind you and collapse into him, though a bit tense from the fact he literally caught you dancing in a frenzy like that...

"relax, baby."

ah he noticed

you giggle nervously in response, "i-i'm fine..."

shu pulls away slightly so he can properly see you. he sends you a knowing smile, "you're so cute, baby. there's no need to be shy. you seemed to have so much fun too."

he then cups your cheeks, your lips curling up from the mild pressure

"it made me fall in love with you again."

"i--" you look away, escaping his immediate gaze. "you're so cheesy, shu..."

"you like it though," shu tilts his head so that you're forced to look him in his purple eyes again. "oh hey! i have an idea."

he lets go of you and he pauses the music playing from your phone, changing it entirely it seems. his eyes hover over the list of songs and his eyes brighten at the sight of the one he found interesting

"oohh! salamander!!" you smile

"see? i knew you'd like the sound of it," shu chuckles, putting your phone down by the counter again before grabbing your hands and bouncing slightly on his heels. "come on! we haven't listened to this song in a while!"

"shu..."

but before you can protest anymore, shu sends you a quick wink and starts singing along to the energetic song. he absolutely does not forget to shimmy his way through too, making you laugh

this might've been because shu's natural charm or the fact that he's a sorcerer capable of doing otherworldly things, but you follow along

even mouthing the lyrics with him and matching his steps, your heart and laughter forgetting the tensity of your embarrassment from before

in shu's eyes, he's more than glad he got to see you again and this is the first thing he does upon stepping into the apartment

you and him together forgetting about the world. nothing but yourselves, the laughter and the present sleepy hours of the day.

once the song ends, you're out of breath from the dancing and somehow, this makes you look so much more beautiful, especially with the after effect of such euphoric moments

before shu could even realize it, he's pulling you by the wrist and placing his lips on yours, pushed by the moment

ah it's been so long... he thought, detaching from you for just a moment. shu laughs when your face is once again red.

"sorry, you just... looked so pretty. and i missed you so much."

I WILL SAY THIS AGAIN:

Masterlist!

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sleepy-dreamers-inc · 3 years

Text

Going to School with Ranboo!|| 📌

[i was going to answer this but i was a big dummy dum dum and accidentally deleted the ask bUT I REMEMBERED YOU DEAR ANON]

irl / in-game

Genre| fluff and (minor) angst

h e a d-c a n n o n s||

Sypnosis|

You and Ranboo go to school together, so have some scenarios and thoughts about it!!

Artist| grapeichie on twitter!!

warnings| bullying, stress, swearing

Note: you are a streamer in this!! You are also in the SMP!

optional platonic or romantic!!

- so going to school with Ranboo is both amazing and weird. You two have tons of stories of the dumb shit that happened there.

- Nobody will ever find Y/N and Ranboo far apart, even if you guys dont share classes one of you will randomly appear and at this point no one questions it

- Both of you meeting up at eachothers classroom/locker to walk together to your next destination

- Both of you helping eachother with schoolwork, Ranboo would totally tutor you in any subject you struggle with. Both of you go to his house but you two end up getting bored, so he does a Facecam stream with you in the background vibing. (It was so much fun)

- You guys are both the teacher’s favorites and least favorites. You both add so much life to the school but thats the exact problem.

- Y/N: haha look at that high waisted man he got feminine hips!!

Ranboo: NOOOO THATS THE THING HE’S SENSITIVE ABOUT

That Poor Teacher:

- I can totally imagine some kids in your school being invested in the SMP and both of you just nervously sweat in the background. Bonus points if ya’ll’s friends are into it so its just absolute panic

- You trying to help him not be awkward, especially when it comes to talking to new people. I can totally see like a new girl trying to talk to him and he just panics, so you have to step in and explain and help the poor boy out.

- You two are like,, inseparable. Like literally rarely does anyone see you guys apart. So this kinda urks some people who have crushes on him, or literally just your stereotypical bully.

- So one day while you we’re grabbing things for your next class, someone slammed against the locker next to yours, slamming yours shut in the process.

“Well well well, if it isnt the clingy one. Im surprised your not with that dork, you two practically don’t function without the other.” The guy snickered, leaning forward directly in Y/N’s face.

“And how is that any of your concern? And why does it matter?” Y/N said, standing straight up staring at the guy. “Because your fucking pathetic, thats why. Your useless without him and both of us know it.” He spat, pushing Y/N to the floor with a thud, they’re books crashing to the ground around them. Snickers could be heard from around them, as well as gasps and ‘oh-no’s’.

“Awww whatcha gonna do now, freak? You gonna go cry to that loser? Because i have a better idea. Your gonna shut up, and if not, he gets hurt.” The boy said, picking Y/N up by the collar of they’re shirt, and soon slamming them back into the lockers. All he did was laugh and walk away, muttering “pathetic, good for nothing freak.”

- You went home by yourself that day, usually Ranboo walks you home so you two can hangout, but you were nowhere to be seen. This went on for 2 weeks, and you practically avoided him at all costs, not wanting him to get hurt.

- But when he walked into school one day and saw Y/N being harassed by a group of people, he surely wasn’t the one hurt.

“Awww, cant move?” One said, twisting Y/N’s wrist even more, bruising they’re arm as they whimpered in pain. “Awww i think they’re gonna cry!!” Someone else chimmed in, one girl quickly said “better take a picture of this before the moments gone.” As she giggled, snapping a photo of you in the middle of being bullied.

“Delete it, and leave.” Ranboo said, looking down at the three who were currently tormenting you. You looked so sad yet happy, but you knew what was about to happen. “I thought i fucking told you not to tell him, guess your getting it.” The guy said, kicking your stomach and slamming you against the lockers.

You never in your wildest dreams expected Ranboo to punch someone, he was so sweet and charismatic, very passive and neutral. But now, your bully laid on the floor, a bloody nose, and Ranboo towering over him. “Dont. Touch. Them.” Ranboo snarled, leaning down and looking at the bully directly in the eyes.

- A fight soon broke out, leaving one guy with a black eye, bloody nose and a bruised arm and shoulder. Ranboo got suspended, but you left with him, not wanting to be at school and instead with him.

- While walking home he stopped, pulled off his white and black hoodie, put it on you, and soon enveloped you in a hug. Y/N return the favor, and all he said shakily was ‘i love you’

- God no one ever fucked with Y/N again everyone was scared spineless

- The entire SMP had a ‘bruh’ moment when you two told them. Of course Techno was very happy about Ranboo beating some kids up.

- But like back to happy stuff,,

- Kahoot? Idk if you guys play it in school but i do, and both you and Ranboo are such a power duo in Kahoot games

- Trading each others lunch because thats what duo’s like you two do, share with the homies

- Both of you being referees in sports because if other wise someone is going to accidentally get hurt

- You having to walk Ranboo to the nurses office after he got hit in the face with a basketball.

- The librarian does not like the fact you two cannot be quiet. You both are constantly cracking up and can never keep it down

- I know for a FACT one of you got your hands on the teacher’s computer, and i know one of you are playing memes during class while your Teacher is screeching

- All your teachers think both of you are cheating because you have synced brains and get every single answer the exact. same.

- Pulling some kind of huge end of the year prank

- Both of you speaking in zoomer language and not even your classmates have any idea what your saying

- I can see both of you accidentally writing/typing ‘pog’ into a essay/class assignment and your teacher being VERY confused

- Blasting fan-made songs about both of your guys characters and everyone liking them, and both of you are just giggling and smiling because they dont know

- Your friend group see you two doing something and they’re just like “ah shit, here we go again”

- Both of you going to school events only to ensue chaos and be idiots

- On the first day one of you getting lost and the other having to go fetch the other one

- Both of you crashing at the others house to study but it probably didnt go well

- You two are honestly just encased in your own little shared bubble, just vibing and being yourselves

- i feel like this is going on forever and most of it was just angst so I’ll go ahead and cut this off lol

a/n: TWO UPLOADS IN ONE DAY??? CALL ME GO-

Okay but in all seriousness i hope this was not total shit and actually pleasant to read. Idk i just feel like this bad

Anyways I promise I’ll get to working on pt. 2 of dad wilbur but i have some other requests i need to work on. But in the meantime simp for Ranboo and Wilbur okay bye

#ranboo x reader #ranboo imagine #ranboo fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp x reader #mcyt imagine #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #dream smp imagine #dsmp fanfiction #dreamer posts ♠️

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xseaxwitchxkpop · 3 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet: Sub!Sannie Edition

A/N: I've seen a lot of dom!ateez edition for this but not really much sub!ateez, so y'all know I had to do it lol. As always, take this with a grain of salt as I do not know the ateezers irl

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

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Doesn't matter if y'all had rough and kinky sex or sweet and soft sex, this boy will always be blissed out when y'all are done. He needs all the sweet kisses on his cheeks, his neck freckles, knuckle kisses, and cuddles. Whisper praise to him and feed and hydrate him...and give him a bath if it was a particularly rough session complete with washing his hair.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's most proud of abs because not only would he be able to see (and feel) a tummy bulge with ur larger strap on/large dick, he also knows it earns him praise from you because of how hard he works for them. On you, he can't choose his favorite: he'd sway between your lips and the way they make him shudder, your fingers and the way they dig into his hips, and your legs that he could hold onto in missionary, whether thicc or skinny.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He definitely loves to eat cum, both yours and his, but especially his when it's paired with degradation. He also loves the feeling of you cumming in his ass and it never fails to send him over the edge and wiped out so quickly...he will beg for this. If you have a pussy, make him eat you out after he came inside, it's one of his favorite things.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's really private with intimacy and prefers not to show off...however, at least once, he would love nothing more than for you to take him in front of a camera and treat him as nothing more than a useless plaything for your pleasure, showing everyone that you own him and then gift the tape to his members...perhaps to lead them to a whole ass orgy where he gets absolutely destroyed by everyone on your command.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Contrary to popular belief, he's not as experienced as we might be inclined to believed. He's probably only had a couple of partners because he fell in love way too fast and might have messed around with a couple of members, but overall he's only kind of experienced. He knows what he's doing as a baseline, but it's also different for different people, so he quickly learns YOUR body and its responses.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Honestly depends on his mood: if he wants it fast, rough, and completely fucked out it's doggy style hands-down; if he wants it slow and sensual, good old missionary with his legs laid over your thighs so he can squeeze them when the bedsheets aren't enough.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Most of the time, he likes to be more serious with sex because he views this type of intimacy as people sharing each other and putting utmost trust in each other but every once in a while he'll want soft, giggly sex where you two simply exist in a moment and in each other without the filth of kinky rough sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I'm more than positive all of them, at the bare minimum, trim their pubes for logistical reasons but I think San probably just full on shaves down there as a matter of principle: if he likes you to be clean shaven down under, he'll put in the same effort for you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

As I've said, he's a very intimate person, so he treasures every single moment every time you two have sex. No matter how far deep into sub space he gets or how severe his punishments, his heart will always fill up with joy and happiness whenever you two get intimate. He's also very possessive and he feels 1000x moreso when sex is involved which is why his orgy fantasy will be nothing but a fantasy for quite a while.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't masturbate too often because the relief of the release is not satisfactory and he only really does it when it becomes an annoyance or interference in his daily routines. BUT. When he's on tour and finds himself on the rare occasion that he is aching for your touch, he'll take a pair of your used panties he snuck into his baggage and jack off in the shower to the thought and smell of you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

This kinky mf will try most everything once. Some of his kinks include but are not limited to breeding (you breeding him and him breeding you, depending on if he's a service top in the moment), restraints (i.e., shibari, handcuffs), sensory deprivation (i.e., blindfolds), tummy bulge (in him), hair pulling, choking, cum eating, mommy/noona/hyung/daddy/master/mistress/etc., dollification, edging, pegging/anal play, biting, nipple play, and cock rings.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He prefers the bed above all else because it resembles a little nest of blankets, pillows, and plushies which makes him feel the safest in whatever the mood y'all have goin on. He is not, however, opposed to being railed on the countertop.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Hmmmm I think a better question is what doesn't turn him on. He's definitely a kinky fucker and a sex fiend, but among his top turn ons are ass groping, lip biting, hair tugging, and gentle pats on his lower back, especially if you're doing it to guide him somewhere. Also the Voice (tm), especially in public!

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Deliberately ignoring him, even if it is out of playfulness and teasing on your end. I don't peg him as an attention whore by any means, but he is very sensitive to being included/excluded and the like, so this would only genuinely hurt him, especially if you decide to drag it out for longer than a couple of minutes.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

This man LIVES for eating you out and/or sucking you off, whether that's a strap on or actual dick. It gets him going so much so please let him just go down you at any time, any day, nearly any where. He doesn't like receiving much because he doesn't get too much pleasure -- he doesn't make him feel subby at all and that's not something he particularly likes but if you really want to, he'll let you go down on him every once in a blue moon.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

As emphasized previously, it very much depends on his mood, but he'll typically want fast and rough on his more stressful days and slow and sensual on his more "down" days when he needs to be reminded that he is loved for more than just his body, that he is more than just his body. The soft and giggly sex he'd want when he's in a very happy mood and just wants to share that warmth with you, the sweet thing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He's not really that into quickies, but if you want one or two, he's not gonna put up a fight lol.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Again, he'll do nearly everything once, so yes, experimentation/risk is the name of his game.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

During fast and rough intercourse, he could probably go three rounds with overstimulation but during slow and sensual intercourse, he could do a strong single round or a questionable two rounds because the slow and sensual one tends to be more emotionally exhausting than fast and rough for him.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Ofc the sweetheart owns toys! Miss Size Queen has his own dildos, vibrators, anal beads, handcuffs, and nipple clamps. Most of these things he uses on himself and his partner uses on him, but every once in a while the partner will use one or two things on themselves to tease and punish the poor boy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If he's being a brat, he will tease you to no end until you have his ass and remind him to behave. Most of the time, though, it's his partner that's teasing him and he might try to tease you back out of revenge. Keyword: try.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

San is loud as hell in bed and there is no convincing me otherwise. He will let out the most sinful moans, cutest little whimpers, and high pitched whines so muffle his mouth with your used panties/underwear or stuff his mouth with your fingers to decrease his volume. The only time he's not being loud is when he's so completely fucked out that all he can do is whimper, drool endlessly for your strap on/dick, and roll his eyes in the back of his head.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He loves it when you make him cry from fucking him so good. The first time he cried from fucking was when you two tried out mirror sex and you forced him to look himself in the eye in the mirror and he was absolutely gone. This kind of fucking, however, leaves him kind of sore in the ass for the next couple of days so y'all rarely do it when he's working on promotions and a comeback so when y'all can do it...well, he won't be walking for a while.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's a little longer than average, but not by much; he also has average girth. This doesn't bother you, though, as you're the one fucking him most of the time and he knows how to use his dick, anyway, so it hasn't caused any problems between the two of you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a pretty high sex drive, so when you're not in the mood and he is, you indulge him in guided masturbation either with his hand or via plushie fucking. You'll also let him ride your thigh if you can handle that or give him a quick handy. However if you both have the same high sex drive, y'all gonna have a lot of sex at many times during the day.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tends to fall asleep pretty quickly, passing out within like 20 minutes of y'all finishing. If, though, it was soft and giggly sex, he wouldn't fall asleep at all, he'd just snuggle into you and talk about cute things he saw that day or scroll through social media for cats or some cute shit because he's not really tired, just very warm and very content...dare I say, like a cat in the sun.

#ateez #sub!ateez #dom!reader #san #ateez headcanons #ateez imagine #my works #lemon hours #sub!ateez alphabet #sub!san #sub!idol #sub!kpop

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sunshinetoshi · 3 years

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hq boys with an s/o who sweats ✨excessively✨

KUROO TETSUROU, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, MIYA ATSUMU

A/N: perspiration lol. i am still questioning why i wrote this. well i know the reason. it’s because i sweat a ton BAHAHA one of these is literally inspired by something that happened to me irl. but yeah fluff and obviously sweat (back, hands, forehead). i cackled writing tsumu’s. also tried a new format to try and write less but idk how well that turned out asdjk

Kuroo

Your back sweats. A lot.

One weekend Kuroo asked you to stop by his house. You were unsure at first but when he said, “Please? Even for a little bit? I miss you” you sarcastically cursed him then told him you’d be there

You were really excited though because while you were out shopping with your friend you found a little figurine that reminded you of an inside joke with Kuroo so you bought it.

When you arrived, he met you at the door and you showed him the gift. He thought it was so cute but he couldn’t help but mess with you a little

“Oh? Am I running through your mind that much, always thinking about me?” But he smirks and gives a genuine thanks before going in to hug you.

You put your hands up to stop him, “No, wait!”

You ran to catch the bus headed to this part of town and the bus had no A/C- in the middle of summer. Your back sweat was NOT IT rn.

“My back is sweaty,” you chuckled, embarrassed.

“Ah,” he waved it off, “I don’t care. Come here.”

You remained unsure but he pulled you into an embrace. He gave you a squeeze before releasing you.

“Oo-” he lifted his hand and looked at it when you two pulled away. “Yeah, that’s damp.”

Your ears burned up and you slapped his chest a little. “That’s what I said before you hugged me!”

He doubled over in laughter and you started to get embarrassed. “Tetsu, stop laughing,” you whined, yet you were laughing too.

He wouldn’t stop so you huffed and reached for the figurine in his hand, “Maybe I’ll just keep this then.”

He was wiping away tears from laughing too hard. “Oh come on, Sunshine. Don’t be like that.”

Iwaizumi

You got them clammy hands AND THAT’S OKAY.

You and Iwaizumi were walking around a little shopping center. But it was an outdoors shopping center. And it was a little humid. So you became hyper aware of the sweat on your palms.

You two were headed to the comic book shop because Iwa-chan put the new Godzilla poster on reserve and wanted to pick it up

You noticed a toy kiosk and were amused by a couple of kids who were watching the battery-operated dog toy walk and jump around. You didn’t realize you slowed down until you heard your boyfriend call your name.

You looked up and saw Iwaizumi ahead of you with an outstretched hand

You gulped. You did NOT want him to have to hold your clammy hand

You smiled at him and ran up to him. Instead of grabbing his hand you wrapped your hands around his upper-arm, beyond grateful he was wearing a long sleeve shirt and wouldn’t immediately feel the sweatiness

He didn’t seem to make anything of it and instead joked about you getting easily amused

Later on with his new poster in one arm he again made a grabby hand motion to you. Yeah, your hands were still clammy. Again you lightly wrap your hands around his upper-arm and lean your head on his shoulder.

He huffed, “Y/N.”

“Hm? Oh that’s a cute display!” You point at one of the shop windows.

“Y/N,” he repeats. But you were still gushing about the picture of the cute puppy they used. “Y/N,” this time he whined and stopped walking.

When you looked up he was pouting. And even though it was really cute and you wanted to smile you held it in and asked him what was wrong.

“You’re not holding my hand,” he grumbled, his brows furrowed.

“But I’m hugging your arm,” you point out.

“But I want to hold your hand!”

You tried giving him puppy-dog eyes hoping it’d get you out of having to admit why you weren’t holding his hand. It usually worked.

But Iwaizumi wasn’t letting it work today. He turned on his puppy-dog eyes and you wanted to groan. His puppy-dog eyes ALWAYS topped yours, especially because they were so rare.

You stared at one another for a few seconds before you sighed and unwrapped your hands from his arm. You lifted your hand for him to see. “My hands are clammy, they’ve been since earlier.”

He stared at you for a bit before shaking his head and chuckling. “Don’t be a dummy,” he grabbed your hand and quickly wiped it dry on the side of his jeans.

“Hajime, why’d you do that!”

He interlocked your fingers and pulled you to continue walking. “Because I’m wearing all black so you won’t see the sweat if you wipe it, you’re not wearing black.”

He glanced at you, “I like holding your hand too much to let a little sweat get in the way.”

Atsumu

You sweat from your head, well more specifically your forehead.

And it never really came up with your boyfriend.

That is until one day he saw cute photos of a couple giving each other forehead kisses. And it made him think. You liked giving him forehead kisses but he realized it was one-sided. He never happened to give them to you. He always went for the lips or the cheeks or the sappy kissing your hand (you said it was cute when you two watched a movie and he started doing it)

Now he wanted to be cute like the photos he saw. So when he saw you later that day and you greeted him with a kiss on the forehead he waited for you to finish before leaning in to do the same to you.

You knew immediately it wasn’t going to be a kiss on the lips on on the cheek

You stopped him. “What are you doing?”

He looked at you, his lips puckered and his cheeks squished in between your hands. He was literally mid-kiss. “Uhh, I was trying to kiss your forehead.”

You internally started to panic because you KNEW it was NOT dry up there.

You covered it up and pouted at him, “You don’t want to kiss me on the lips?” You let his face go.

“No! It’s not that it’s just-” he scratched the back of his neck and ended up admitting why he wanted to kiss your forehead. “Plus! I wanted to give you the same affection you give to me. That’s romantic, right?”

You burst into laughter. “It’s sweet, yeah but I don’t want you to.”

“What! Why not!”

“Because!”

“That’s not a reason!”

You put your hands on your hips, “Because I have a sweaty forehead Tsumu!”

His jaw dropped. Then he almost snorted into laughter but held it in. “Aw, darling I don’t care about that. Can I please kiss your forehead? Please?”

You thought about it. “Fine.”

“I love you,” he said leaning in again to kiss your forehead.

“I love you too.”

His lips met your forehead and he immediately jumped back, “Blargh!” He wiped at his lips.

You gasped and slapped his arm, “Miya Atsumu!”

“It’s wet!”

“I told you it was!”

“Yeah but that wet? I thought you used those blotting sheet things!”

“That’s for oil!”

“It feels like oil!”

“That’s bullying!” You cross your arms and pout.

“Aw, come on darling,” he reaches his arms out to you but you shake your head.

He walks over to you anyways, “But I didn’t say the forehead kiss was bad. I liked it.”

“Really?” you grumble.

“Yeah, I think they’ll make an appearance every now and then” he made a sweater paw from his hoodie and brought it up to your face, “Just remind me to do this beforehand.”

You burst out gigging as he dramatically wipes your forehead dry.

#i want kuroo to call me sunshine SO BAD #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo x reader #iwaizumi x reader #atsumu x reader #kuroo #iwaizumi #atsumu #kuroo tetsurou #iwaizumi hajime #miya atsumu #writing this made me so soft lol #i love you tetsu💛#☀tara writes☀

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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

Text

The Snyder Cut: Headcanons (mostly of the tickly nature)

Bruce Wayne (Batman) ~ Batfleck, my love

He’s such a lover boy, and I can say that though I don’t exactly know how to explain what I mean. You just gotta understand.

He cares so strongly about EVERYONE. e v e r y o n e. Alfred, fucking loves the guy, jokes with him. The fucking “This is Alfred, I work for him.” MY MAN, STOP!

I think he just really wants to get along with everyone and wants everyone to get along in general.

But he lowkey crushes on Diana (at least in his mind, he’s keeping it lowkey, but we all see what’s happening)

I love the idea of this big hunk of a man getting soft with someone like Diana.

She makes him genuinely laugh this one time by saying something funny, and then they’re both laughing together.

Bruce definitely has one of those laughs where he throws his head back and shit and you can see his like Adam’s apple bobbing and everything.

But that’s if he’s really laughing.

And he has loud “HA”’s that are like really short but loud and then he kinda just snickers to himself for a while, holding his stomach.

And dude, the scene in freaking uhh… i think it’s BvS I’m not 100% (maybe i fucking imagined it who knows) where she like comes over to him and is fixing his wound….. tickle scenario hand picked from the gods right there

I can see a whole, “Woah!” from Bruce when Diana traces her fingers on some sensitive skin. And that Gal Godot smile is on her in an INSTANT.

Bruce will laugh if he’s with the right person. Like I headcanon that if he’s being tickled, he will laugh if it’s done by Diana or Barry, then like he’ll be forced to laugh if it’s Clark bc he overpowers the poor bat, but then he just has these hilarious bouts of angry growls and chuckles if Arthur is going after him.

I can’t even write about Batfleck being a ler because I will literally explode, so I’m done here

(((((butseriouslyifanyonewantstotalklerbatfleckwithmehmuplz)))))

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

I know the GIF isn’t from ZSJL but just let me live, ok? (Also I couldn’t find the one of Gal wiggling her fingers YOU KNOW THE ONE I’M TALKING ABOUT)

First off, Gal is the most horrible queen of giggles. I’ve seen those blooper reels. My god, girl, how do you keep getting hired?

SHE HAS SUCH A BIG SMILE IT’S LIKE THE ROCK IDK HOW THEIR TEETH AND MOUTH GET SO WIDE LOOKING

Diana will start tickle fights without a doubt.

She’s already very trustful and I also feel pretty handsy with people, especially those she may feel close to. So if she’s playful, you best watch out.

Her favorite targets are Bruce and Barry. I will not take criticism. Diana attacking Barry and reducing him to panicky shrieky laughs is my #1 thought. It’s not even living rent free, I’m commissioning it to be there.

Diana is one to laugh with her victims. She will wreck them and have a great time doing so.

She’ll be ticklish if she wants to be, but it isn’t often she gets pinned and tickled or anything like that.

The guys try to stay away from her or not go after her with tickles for fear of retaliation.

AQUAMAN, CYBORG, SUPERMAN, AND THE FLASH UNDER THE CUT

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

So…. my man isn’t really ticklish. I really don’t think he is, I feel like his Atlantean genes make his skin a special kind of hard, if that makes sense?

THAT BEING SAID ARTHUR IS THE BIGGEST LER OMGGG

He’ll try and act all cool and ‘whatever’ around the League cuz that’s kind of his persona.

But he slowly gets to like them more and more and his playful side starts to come out.

He’ll tickle Barry out of pure annoyance. Like if Barry makes any kind of comment, he’ll just point his finger out and get that glint in his eye and Barry is sprinting for the hills.

Here’s my favorite headcanon: Arthur will tickle Bruce because he knows it pisses him off when he does it. Bruce will fight back and keep Arthur in his sights at all time and curse and growl at him. And Arthur thinks it’s hilarious.

Arthur as a ler will taunt and tease until the cows come home

“Huh, big guy? What’s that? Ahawww that’s what I thought!... Not so fast/tough/etc. now!... I will wreck you.”

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Unfortunately… not ticklish. :(

But this boy has the sweetest laugh you will ever hear, and I will die on that hill.

Now that he has friends (superpowered friends, no less), he can slowly come alive and be himself.

I can see Victor not getting involved in tickle fights at first, but at a certain point he’ll be all like, “Okay, step aside so we can do this right” and just PIN THE SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER IS BEING TICKLED. His extra robot arms are killer!

Okay, when he laughs for the first time in front of the group, there’s that cliche moment of pause where everything stops and everyone just stares and listens to him. It’s so rare to hear him laugh because the poor kid barely even smiled around them in the beginning.

He SMIRKS

Now hear me out on this…

Okay, so half a face. Great. Weird. We love it. But you can see all of mischievous Victor when the guy SMIRKS. You see his eye squint and you can swear his robot eye gets a gleam of a different color.

Wait honestly as I was writing that, the thought of Victor’s eye and like his apparatus changing color based on his mood is golden.

Me sitting here, lowkey wishing Victor’s robot body had some kind of cuddly mode like Baymax lmfaoooo

Like the defense mode his body went into when he was around resurrected Supes, but for cuddles and being cute.

Clark Kent (Superman)

I was debating even including any headcanons for Superman bc I don’t care about him much, honestly.

I am v happy they kept in the whole ‘him staring at Flash through the speed storm’ scene bc I laughed so hard at that the first time i saw Josstice League in the theater.

Also I didn’t really like the black superman costume??? I’m not a comic buff, so I’m assuming that’s why. I am like the one person who missed the color from the Josstice League cut. Don’t miss the stupid red sky in the finale, but I miss every other ounce of color that was just SUCKED right out of the Snyder Cut.

Clark and Bruce are besties now, I don’t make the rules. Bruce bought the man his house back. By buying the bank. He’ll take care of him.

And I’ve always simped for those two ever since BvS, bc I’ve already written like two fics where they tickle each other.

Clark overpowering Bruce to tickle the shit out of him makes me so happy lol. Big strong boy Batfleck looking thiccc over here… but put him against Superman and he’s donezo. Because as mentioned earlier, I do think Bruce is pretty ticklish.

But Clark can have his lee side when he’s feeling nice

He’s got that mighty chuckle, almost like how Thor might laugh.

And he really likes getting involved in tickle fights with the League. He knows all of them are sorta afraid of him on the daily anyway, but have that power added to a tickle fight and it’s fun as hell.

He’s gotten taken down by them ONCE. And I mean exactly (1) O N C E.

They all teamed up. Bing, bang, boom. Pinned him to the floor and they each took an area of skin and fucking SQUEEZED AND WIGGLED. They were trying to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. And dangummit, he laughed a lot! Like Clark realized just how ticklish he could feel if he wanted to feel it.

And don’t even get me started on Lois, he’s big on getting her to giggle and she likes toying with him and running her hands all over his body (bc who wouldn’t?)

Barry Allen (The Flash)

I waited to write about Barry last because I have so much to say about this character....

and then I fell asleep and waited until the next day to write anything down about him so now I’m totally not in the mood and I forgot all the salient points I was planning on making.

fuck you, michelle.

I got a weird relationship with this character. He was mad annoying in the Josstice League. Thank goodness they trimmed his bad jokes down.

But now....

when he got hurt at the end and he was like crying and shit oh my god I wanted to hug him

His character got so... good

And I’m now at the right age where I can think about myself in a relationship with this character with no changes or shame

We both out here trying to find that one good job after college and everything

BARRY JUST WANTS FRIENDS, GUYS

HE’S THAT CUTE

And then he got this whole found family schtick with the Justice League!!! Lookit him!!! Thriving!

He has total little brother energy

like, pesky little brother. Bothers everyone, looks over people’s shoulders while they’re deep in thought or concentrating on something.

Asks a lot of questions.

All the more reason for the gang to want to tickle the shit out of him.

Barry just reads like a super ticklish lee. Like his whole character.

Maybe touch starved because he said he needed friends, and I don’t think he has siblings??? (sorry if i’m wrong about that, comic fans)

I already named some of my fav headcanons about him getting tickled by like Diana and such, and I’m sticking with it.

Barry does flee. He runs away with super speed.... but sometimes he just kinda wants the tickles so he lets them have at him.

The chase is all part of the fun with tickling Barry, though. That’s what makes it so entertaining. And Barry isn’t afraid to be a little shit about it either. He will super-speed around his pursuers and poke their sides and tickle them back really quickly before they even know what’s happening.

Barry doesn’t exactly hold back his laughter lol. He’ll protest and scream and squirm like crazy, but once he’s actually tickled, he loses it.

Pure boy. With funny ass facial expressions.

And it really doesn’t help that I never realized just how hot Ezra Miller is, even though I heard he’s not a great person irl. Oh well.

THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

Please please let me know if y’all have things to add, to squee over, to question me about... please. anything. i’m here for you. thanks for reading, guys!

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candlecovewiki · 3 years

Text

ALRIGHT ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT MY REVERSE AU FOR ONCE LETS GET IT

this is only like.... part 1 of this btw

note: see end of post for au terminology

percy <--> thade

percy: is not referred to by his actual name, in fear that speaking it will summon him or bring some sort of bad omen onto a crew or town, so he’s mostly referred to as “the darkness that sees”, or just dark for short. during the destruction of the tarantula crew he was knocked into a false door* and spent a few years stuck in the in between*. he wasn’t.... really the same after he came back (which is... rare, because people never come back from there) and that’s when he began to steal others eyes (as opposed to stealing skin). in short he’s... manipulative, he spends weeks- months maybe gaining his victim’s trust before taking their eyes, he acts like some sort of messiah figure that can help them forget about terrible things they’ve seen, and ensures that they’ll never have to see anything terrible again (or anything, for that matter). he doesn’t actually care about them, though. if anything the only people he actually cares for are janice and rory. maybe

thade: honestly not much changes of him asides basically just staying the same pre tarantula crew besides becoming 100% more tired and traumatized. him and horace become bros when he ends up breaking into his library in the middle of the night and passing out on top of one of the bookshelves. thade becomes his apprentice for a while (horace is still a sorcerer in this au, but not like how he is in canon) and gets taught a lot of cool stuff, until they decide to leave for the sea to travel to harpis* to find a scroll that horace was missing, but ended up getting shipwrecked and picked up by milo and the rest of the laughingstock crew. he just needs a break, or to scream into the void for a solid hour. he is VERY sarcastic and blunt with anyone he comes across, and often disregards others’ feelings on matters or opinions. once he gets to known people he softens up a bit, and will subtly show them signs that he cares

janice <--> horace

janice: ah yes. chaotic evil incarnate. instead of being picked up by the laughingstock crew she was picked up by dark, who was... less than thrilled to be burdened with a human child. janice was even less than thrilled to get stuck with some “lame-o eye monster”, but after a trip into town which turned into Crime Time as well as dark, who had happened to decide to target the same town that day. they ended up raising hell together and now they are chaos siblings. she’s a lot more unpredictable and spontaneous, and doesn’t bottle up her feelings as much as her canon counterpart. she often acts like she doesn’t need anyone, and gets mad whenever people try to help or comfort her, but usually after she has a meltdown she goes find dark or rory to sob on them.

horace: like i said before, instead of a ringleader he’s an archiver, tasked with keeping a record of all of the known spells in the candle cove region. uh... a lot of it was already explained in thade’s entry, about meeting him when he broke into the library and him teaching Thade some spells and then getting shipwrecked and picked up by milo and co when traveling to harpis. yknow. anyways he’s generally much less confident and much more skittish and meek, opting to ditch people rather than engage in conflict. his loyalty is VERY questionable and he’s easy to bribe. however he has a passion for knowledge and loves teaching it to people he deems worthy enough to inherit it.

poppy <--> milo

poppy: in this au he still goes by his real name (which is rory), as well as being part of the nphc. he wasn’t really... thrilled with it? truth be told it was milo’s idea, and he ended up ditching him at the last minute so he ended up being alone. however he ended up straying away when he got in trouble for letting a pirate go, a particularly wanted one (hint hint, it was dark) and ended up just crew hopping for a while. none of them lasted though, because he would get power hungry, overthrow the captain in some way, declare himself captain and then a week later decide that it was too much responsibility for him, appoint someone else as captain at random. rinse and repeat. the cycle only broke when milo ended up finding him and taking him aboard the laughingstock (basically this au is just milo adopting everyone into his crew and generally being a dad), until his rivalry with thade got WAY out of hand and he joined dark. rory himself is constantly changing between being overly dependent on people and being completely independent and shutting himself away from others. he generally alienates himself from people, but when he does end up finding someone he thinks his worth his time he becomes completely devoted to them. he’s unpredictable, in short

milo: okay i already talked about him in some of the other entries so ill keep this one short and cover only the stuff i havent talked abt yet. milo, as you might have guessed, is the captain of the laughingstock crew. he’s... generally a very benevolent entity. in constraint to rory, who seems like he knows what he’s doing but is a complete mess, milo runs on orderly chaos; where everyone thinks everything is constantly falling apart around him but he’s actually doing just fine. he might think too fondly of people, and dish out second chances too easily, but if needed he can be a rather firm captain. this man is literally able to befriend anyone, he’s like... the type of person you meet at a tavern when you are feeling absolutely miserable and they just appear out of nowhere and after talking to them for a bit you feel better and you think about them for YEARS afterwards. he’s just a dad And a friend!

false door: a static portal that can send one to the in between, can appear anywhere at random both in the real world and candle cove

the in between: a world between irl and candle cove, basically a nightmare dimension

harpis: a small island off of the mainland, has a long history of sorcerers or other magic users living there

#candle cove #creepypasta #reverse au #*DEAD ON THE FLOOR* THIS ALL TOOK FOREVER TO TYPE OUT*

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napoleon--bonaparte · 4 years

Text

i read @focsle‘s novel Lacrimore. this is my review. it is FULL OF SPOILERS.

rating: infinity/10. i just LOVED it!! it just ah!! it was so good!! i was totally and effortlessly swept up in the whole universe of Lacrimore. i was also completely 1000% invested in every character, including the house's staff (LOVED Fel omfg). i enjoyed every single second that i read this book. it was difficult to put down but because of the way that life is i had to at times and until i could get back to it, it was ALL i thought about. i thought that it was beautifully crafted and well and satisfyingly plotted. it was also extremely emotionally and thematically resonant with me. it just really hit me right where i live!!

i have all sorts of thoughts but they're kind of loosely assorted so bare with me

the house was AMAZING. i mean, W O W! "atmospheric" is the word that really comes to mind the strongest. the writing is not only beautiful but also incredibly effective and fresh. in a work like this, it is so important to get a sense of the house in a physical (well, as close to physical as you can get with this particular house) sense and SJ really just knocked it out of the park. i was blown away. not surprised, just totally delighted. in particular, the ballroom windows and the east wing captured my heart. the sense of history there just totally haunts me

i adored all of the characters. Sivre Sen was a great choice for protag, and such an interesting character in this universe. i found her internal struggles with her faith to be deeply compelling. i really felt for her and cared for her as things progressed. and. fkjda; sorry to keysmash like its 2011 here but. the whole ass climax !! INTENSE. ROOTING FOR HER SO HARD. and the close... when she lit that lantern... and starts calling spirits away.... what a beautiful, powerful culmination of her character arc and the book as a whole. i just. knocked on my ass. found dead, rip me she was so young

Vandorus. i. i love him. ALSO rooting for him so hard. number one, what a GREAT character. like, just conceptually within this universe. fascinating. number two. he stole every scene he was in. i mean, everything was well balanced and super well written. but he was just such a compelling, interesting dude with such a strong personality that it was hard not to be just totally taken with him wherever he went!! god. I JUST WANT HIM TO BE OKAY. when he and the house were getting buddy buddy i was like.... this is very sexy of you Vandorus, however as your mother i am concerned.

his relationships with Sivre and Lalichai were the touchstone of the whole book for me. i loved watching his relationship with Sivre evolve. it was exactly what i would want to happen between the two of them but i'm not used to getting that kind of satisfying turn in a lot of narratives... and when it happened, i was just beside myself. they have such an interesting dynamic. when he let her go... and then when she didn't leave him. i'm crying like a baby over here, its 1am, i'm scaring my dog.

ugh. IK THAT IT ENDS ON KIND OF AN AMBIGUOUS NOTE. WHICH I **LOVED** AND THOUGHT WAS PERFECT. so whether or not he fully survives this whole thing is kind of up in the air. the ambiguity. god, him telling Sivre that he knows he should have just put Lalichai out of his misery... tears. Van isn't a bad guy. i just. head in my hands. when Sivre tells him that the house would just use him, i'm like throwing shit into the air. like listen to her you beautiful salty dingus!!! I JUST WANT WHATS BEST FOR YOU

also. every time Sivre and Van have a scuffle this was me irl:

and Lalichai. smoothes shirt. i run a Lalichai stan blog now. i was NOT expecting at all to like him so much, just figured he'd be there, but he was JUST SO CHARMING and i am a SUCKER FOR THAT TYPE OF BOTH CHARACTER AND REAL LIFE INDIVIDUAL PERSON. and when he died, i wasn't expecting to see him again so like, to have a whole ass other scene with him was just a true delight. i just loved him to bits. here's something i wrote at some point for my notes for this review: "lalichai is SO my type as a character love that bitch GOALS except the evil house part but would totally also make that mistake so like i get it babe."

anyway. here's an assortment of moments that made me have a irl physical reaction:

i GASPED AUDIBLY and in doing so SCARED MYSELF when sivre found minah's bead

i had to stop reading and get up to take a little emotional walk every single time van's mom was brought up (i was literally like wow.. rip my heart out, thanks) and ALSO at that four lines of dialogue between lalichai and minah. i'm just. those lines are fucking haunting me

i cried throughout the entire climax and also at any point where minah showed up.

overall, in a broad sense i loved the whole narrative structure. i loved that it was on a bottle on the island. i thought that was very effective and well done. i also loved the broad thematic tanglings with legacy, death, ambition, struggling against authority, etc. this might sound odd but i'm still processing them, not that they were difficult to understand or not well crafted but i think they're just really hitting me very hard and i need some time to parse how the work is impacting me emotionally beyond my deep investment in the characters and universe. i will certainly be rereading this again.

i don't know a great deal about american spiritualism. but the influences on this work was such a rare treat. i haven't said a lot about the worldbuilding, but it was fascinating and effective. it just... all worked really, really well.

in conclusion: i really enjoyed the book. it has been a long time since a written, non-podcast work of fiction has grabbed me like this. i find it terribly gauche when fans rope creators into fandoms or try to talk about things like fanfiction with them. but i would be remiss if i did not share that, for me personally, it is rare that a work grabs my heart and imagination to the extent that i would want to read or produce any fanwork. it must be very special in a particular way for this to happen. and right now all i want to do is dive DEEP into a healthy lacrimore ao3 tag!!!

where's my vandorus & sivre "buddy cop" style sequel riffs. and at least one 6k fic where they go find his mom (IF SHE STILL ALIVE....) that makes me lose my mind.

#lacrimore #me #SPOILERS

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k-she-rambles · 4 years

Text

Because I cannot just let this go: KOTORxSongmaster AU

Warnings for war, mentions of genocide, medical abuse, depression, vague implications of past assault (Atton is your friend but uh, he is not Nice), characters who don’t want to talk about sex talking about sex/infertility/impotence (it’s the repression paradox: the Forbidden Topic is talked about a lot because it’s Forbidden) and fantasy ableism. It’s Orson Scott Card. There’s Awesome and Ehh... NB: this is not how puberty blockers work IRL. I’m pulling things both out of my tuchas and from a work of fiction.

It takes the Exile hours to realize what is distracting her, but also warning her of approaching droids, this foreboding that has burrowed under her skin.

She can hear the Peragus mining facility singing.

The creak of metal, the sizzle of lasers, the klaxon of the alarms. The oppressive silence that is more than the silence she is used to. And below that, fear.

It has been five years since she has heard anything sing.

(The Exile hears no songs.

She is not deaf, in the peculiar way the Songhouse reckons deafness –-not as the quality of being unable to hear with your ears, but being unable to hear your own nature, sung.

But it is not just herself she cannot hear.

The Exile hears no songs.

It is as if the universe and everything in it is dead. When Master Vrook speaks, she cannot hear what he really means, below the dry bluster. Kavar’s tone is neutral in a way that is entirely different from his Control. Atris’ voice has a song like bright wind over snow, but only in the Exile’s memory. When she speaks, it’s only a voice.

The Songmasters sing Malachor. They sing warmongering, betrayal, the Dark Side, and over all, loss. The Exile only hears it in a recording, years later: the loss of music meant the loss of songtalk.

At the last, the Exile ignites her lightsaber, and drives it into the stone. The sound is empty, empty, empty.)

Kreia’s Control is incredible, and so it is always gratifying when she reveals something of herself. When she speaks, she never uses songtalk.

Come to think of it, Atris doesn’t either.

It’s the holos of Malak as a Sith Lord that bother the Exile the most.

It isn’t that he was the first padawan to show her around the Jedi Songhouse enclave on Dantooine when she arrived. He took himself too seriously, even as a child, but he was kind. He asked her the questions the adults hadn’t thought to, and answered, unprompted, the questions she was afraid to ask.

It’s his jaw. Malak was a songbird, though the songmasters never placed him out. (It was always Malak who was the songbird, not Revan, who grew into her voice only as an adult.)

But the horrifying idea of Revan taking a songbird’s natural voice away isn’t it either. It’s that the Exile doesn’t believe for a second that it was to teach him a lesson. It’s easier to believe that Revan loved him, and that changes things, morphs the horror into pity for them both.

It it so wrong, she catches herself thinking, the impulse to silence a song that is in agony? To hear the pain which you have caused, and make it stop?

“Soo...” says Atton, nudging a broken piece of droid with a toe. “Songhouse, huh?”

“Mm.”

“Must be hard. No family, no, ah --”

The Exile snorts. “Typical.”

“No? ‘Cause I heard--”

“The Songhouse is a family, Atton. When I was brought in I was adopted. Legally.”

“...okay, so how does an ancient, galaxy-spanning organization legally adopt a kriff-ton of kids?”

“Illegally.”

Atton smiles at that, and it’s almost honest. No teeth.

The Exile relents. “It depends. The other thing, I mean. Species, biological sex, whether they thought you’d be a songbird when you were adopted.”

He makes a vaguely interested noise.

She continues breaking down the blaster rifle in her hands. “Once the puberty blockers wear off, those who might have borne children generally find they can’t —hence the Songhouse’s aggressive adoption practices.”

“Oh. That’s not too bad, then.”

She looks at him coolly until he flushes, two spots of color on a face that might have once been tan.

Sallowed by dissipated living. A follower. Without someone to lead him all he is is appetite –-that is Kreia, in her mind’s ear. Had it not been part of her gift of the voice, the Exile might not have separated Kreia’s words from her own thoughts. True, Atton looks like he hasn’t seen sunlight or a nutritionally balanced meal in years, but there is...

You have no natural talent for healingsong, says Kreia sternly, but does not correct the Exile’s assumption.

Atton is still babbling. “Not that, uh, I’m in a position to say.”

Her laugh is a small huff of air. “It’s what I grew up with. They say Ancient Selkath doesn’t have a word for wet.” She tries to sing Modesty, and doesn’t even get as far as don’t stare before her voice cracks and the song turns to ashes in her mouth. Stupid. Like poking at a missing tooth. She’d never had a problem not trying to sing when she was traveling alone.

“I know that one,” says Atton. “I meant...the rumors get really uh, colorful. I was being stupid. Earlier, I mean. I was –I meant to be filthy but didn’t mean it to be nasty if it’s something you can’t—”

She puts down the rifle. “I won’t die if I have sex, Rand.”

Atton looks anywhere but directly at her. “Right. Stupid.”

After years of silence, the music is distracting. Eddies and curls, the ticks in the hyperdrive, T3′s gears, Atton’s constant mindless not-quite-spoken chatter. Bao-Dur doesn’t realize he hums as he works, but she can pinpoint his location, his mood, and a sense of what he’s working on anywhere in the ship.

“I will teach you Control,” says Kreia, and the Exile bristles. She is not a Bell or a Breeze, learning how to breathe, learning Control for the first time. But she keeps Control, and obediently sits down to meditate.

She tries to imagine a lake in the mountains, surrounded by the walls of her Control, and fed by the meltwater of her life, just as she was taught. It is the reservoir of her songs, released only when she chooses, not in tears, or sudden flights of passion.

She hasn’t done this in years. Who knows what that lake might contain.

The image won’t come.

“Let go of what ought to be,” says Kreia. “I am only interested in what you are.”

The deep lake has become...something else. A marsh, a bog. The sweet, thick smell of decaying plants feeding the living ones. There is a sense of wet, but there’s no sign of where the water comes from, and no sign of what makes it stay. It’s like nothing she has ever encountered. “Is that...good?”

“It is you,” says Kreia.

Years of doing everything but sing with her voice have left their mark. Lightsong and darksong both sound mangled, strained. Once, the Exile could fill a room with sound, to the edges and no farther, with no distortions. Now, she is lucky to hum a healing without her voice cracking.

She doesn’t exactly regret not keeping her voice conditioned –-she could have sung in exile, technically. Did, once or twice—sung a familiar tune for a drink or a job, sung a lullaby to calm a crying child.

She could not bear it for long: a tone-deaf stranger pulled from the street would still sing from the overflow of of the life they bore inside them. She does not.

There was nothing there. She sounded like a corpse trying to carry a tune, no matter how correct her notes.

She tells herself the song would have only sounded like Malachor, anyway.

Atton has Control.

There are hints of it on Telos, but —

No. Atton sings.

The realization hits the Exile like a ton of bricks. Atton sings. It is not the same as having a song, for all living things (and many things that aren’t alive at all) have a song. Atton sings: with his body, with his thoughts, keeping his mind and his hands and his mouth vacuously busy in ways that any songmaster would call “wasting your songs.” But he’s doing it on purpose. He lets those who listen, listen, but they listen to a tune of his choosing.

It’s a gift of the voice. They aren’t rare, but there’s no usual form they take, and so they can be mistaken for other talents. Revan had a gift with languages. Poor Bastila had been saddled with battle song in a time of war. The Exile herself had a gift: the ability to catch the thread of any song and the power behind it, to harmonize with anyone, of any skill.

Revan was quick to sing of herself. You never knew all of what was going on in Revan’s head, but you always knew who and what you were following.

(“If a place there is not for the songs to come out,” Master Vandar says in her mind’s eye, one of her earliest lessons as a padawan, “Drown you will in all the things you cannot express. Inflict them you will on others, without knowing them yourself. A grave affliction it is. Even Sith songmasters sing. Sing we must, even if the tone needs correcting. Our debt to the galaxy it is.”

“What happens to padawans like that?” Revan asked.

“A question, that is not,” said Vandar, “for so many young ears.”)

(Don’t tell Alek, Revan had sung, a rare concession to ignorance over knowledge. They’d given Revan a name, at the Songhouse. They called her after her favorite historical figure. They’d called her Fiimma, the one who had to know Ansset’s song, who’d changed the course of the Songhouse by disobedience, courage, love. (which one depended on who you asked) Don’t tell Alek.)

On Goto’s ship, Atton finally sings of himself in his own voice.

The Exile hears war, hears following Revan, even as she changed, because she was worth following. She hears death, hears killing, and hears the part of him that loves death, that loves killing.

Atton sings, and the Exile hears Control, perfect Control, the kind that takes all emotions in and gives back nothing genuine, nothing uncalculated, nothing of his. High walls, a deep lake, cold and remote. A place of the drowning of the soul.

And then the singer, his singer, the one who let herself be caught, the one who broke open his Control by force. She sang the love song as she died –as Atton killed her, singing it back without voice, singing it back with a knife.

The Exile sings back her shock, wordless: Only one Songmaster of the High Room on Coruscant in recorded history had ever dared such a thing as his singer dared, and never by force.

“I won’t say that it is not –-” Atton’s songs are raw and awkward things, coming from a spring he did not carve, flowing through him like water, like smoke. He would not sing at all except he must. It feels like weakness, a bleeding wound, like something of his was taken away, even if he doesn’t want it back. “You’re not wrong, but –-” He sings, wordless, and she understands.

Atton knows, then, what Vandar had eventually told her, told Revan: a singer with Control who does not sing is a shame. A singer with Control who cannot sing is already dead. Marked for death. His singer had broken her Jedi oaths to save a single life.

It is no wonder that Atton has had such an uneasy relationship with songs and singers.

He wants the Exile to teach him anyway. He could be a shield, a knife in her hand. He wants to be.

She knows where to start. I will never hurt you, I will always help you. Atton sings it with a ferocity that takes her aback. Love does not end.

The Exile’s breath control gets stronger, her tone more clear. She hears Nar Shaddaa, hears the Ebon Hawk. More, she can hear and sing her companions. I’m glad to have you with me, she sings, and Bao-Dur’s and Atton’s backs straighten, despite only having a rudimentary grasp of songtalk. Maybe we can be friends. (Maybe, hums Mira, but it is open to the possibility, less hostile than it was.) I care about you, not the ways you are useful to me, the Exile sings, and Visas frowns, as if she doesn’t understand, as if songtalk were not the first language of all Miraluka.

I am listening, the Exile sings to Kreia, Your songs are full of distortions, but I hear you.

“Do you?” Kreia murmurs, gratified.

“What if there are monsters in the lake?”

In her memories, the Exile can never remember which of the Breezes she was meditating with had asked the question. No name or face gives her comfort. Bastila, about to be graduated early into Stalls and Chambers because of her gift, and already using ego to mask her fear? Juhani, who had come to the Songhouse late, and whose mood swings made her songs tempestuous? Belaya? Yuthura?

She was not wise like Vandar, or kind like Kavar, or firm like Songmaster Vrook. She had only been in the latter part of Stalls and Chambers, then, taking advantage the privilege of older padawans to teach the younger. It prepared them for adulthood, when they had to decide what to do with grown-up voices. She still wished they would have asked Master Zhar.

But they had asked her, and they deserved her answer.

“The monsters are songs, too,” she said, after a moment. “The ones you are afraid to sing.”

She meant to say don’t be afraid. She can only guess what the young ones heard.

Visas’ Sith songmaster master would sometimes take her voice, preventing her from singing the grief of her dead world. He is a hungry silence, more anechoic chamber than man. He drains the music from whatever he touches, chasing the echo of death, feeding on songs cut short, ended, lost.

Visas rarely sings her own songs, now. She sets them aside in favor of others’ --the Exile’s, or the echo of Nihilus’ power. It is not quite as viscerally terrifying as Atton’s song of Control: Visas instinctively knew that Control and Song are hand-in-hand. She does not keep Control when she cannot sing.

It is why, perhaps, she hides herself away and veils her face: emotions are strange and wild things, when you are used to singing them.

The Exile teaches her all the exercises and songs she remembers from childhood, and thinks of the Songmasters, trying to lose themselves on Nar Shadda, on Dantooine, on Onderon.

She does not think of years spent being a ringing silence herself.

Mira hears songs of individuals over distance, hears the distortion of people who aren’t home.

The Exile hones her pitch, teaches her how to grasp the song heard faintly and amplify it, singing it back so that it can be heard and healed. She teaches Mira posture, courage, how to stand and sing in any situation, even when you cannot stand: feet rooted, alert spine, breathe out, not up. No fear.

When Mira reappears after the Sith tomb on Dxun, joking with Bralor in his own tongue, there is a sense of something finally settled, a rhythm finally found.

“What did you learn in your exile? Visas asks.

The Exile rolls Visas’ lightsaber crystal in her hand, thinks of the smells of decay and of growing things, of water soaking up from the ground. She presses the crystal into the Miraluka’s palm.

“It is something like you learned, I think. I am alive. Song or no song or song-deaf. I am still here.”

“You think that is a good thing?”

“Why?” says the Exile, lightly. “Have you changed your mind about me? Are you going to lead me in chains before your songmaster?”

Never. The note is short and sharp, but there’s something the Exile can build on, there. My life for yours.

If you are frightened, I’ll be your friend, the Exile sings. The love song.

Visas scoffs, not recognizing it. “I do not fear death.”

Neither do you wish to live, the Exile does not say. “But you fear mine?”

“I regret it. I would delay it, if I could.”

The Exile smiles. “Then you’ll just have to keep keeping me out of trouble.”

The Exile had hoped to never set foot on Dxun again. It’s just as loud as she remembers, even with her dulled senses. It is not just the jungle --the moon rings with the memory of death and mines and fire and water, even though the fighting has long ago stopped. It’s either the echo of what came before, or the silence, after.

“It’s hard to hear myself think sometimes,” says Bao-Dur, “But being around you helps.” And: “I’m glad you let that old warrior go. I’m not sure I would have wanted to do the same.”

“It’s not always about what I want,” she says, gently. “There has been enough death and hatred, I think. So I chose.” She runs a towel over her hair, uselessly trying to get rid of some of Dxun’s damp, and adds “You wondered how I made it through without my songs. You don’t have to hear the song to make a choice.”

“Her influence threatens the integrity of the other students’ music!” says the recording of Songmaster Vrook. “She is like Ansset, and could doom us all.”

“That is a myth,” the Exile growls.

“Ahh,” says Bao-Dur, observing her without judgment. “I’m pretty sure Ansset was a real person. Last of the Three Imperators and one of the founders of the Republic? Ring a bell?”

The Exile crosses her arms. “He was a Songbird first and last. One of our greatest. The stories say,” she says, drawing the last word out, “that he could change people’s songs, even without singing. Make them feel whatever he wanted. Make them become what he wanted.”

“Creepy,” says Atton, at the same time Bao-Dur says “You’re nothing like that.”

“No?” says the Exile, and Atton is not sure if she is angry, or if that is some kind of loss or hunger in her face, her eyes.

Atton scratches the back of his head. “Well, sure. You can harmonize with nearly anyone. Even Kreia. You said that was your gift, not changing the songs of others.”

“This Vrook person called you dangerous in the same breath as average and disliked,” says Bao-Dur. “Are you sure he has even met you?”

She exhales, a small laugh. “He never liked me.”

“Then he is letting his personal feelings cloud his judgment, and you have your answer.”

Mandalore is deaf to songtalk, but his awareness is exceptional. “Your teacher is a fine hand at blocks, Exile.”

The Exile starts. She hadn’t thought of that, despite how teaching her to hear the thoughts of her companions exactly resembled shifting a block.

“Is there anything --”

“I’m not a doctor or a singer,” he says quickly. “You’d know more than I. But no, I don’t think she has bound any of us with anything stronger than blackmail.”

But she could, if she was resisted, lays unspoken between them.

The Exile came home, with the singers who would become Revan and Malak, once, four months before the full council sanctioned the intervention that had been going on eight months already.

Eight months of the background noise of war, strategy, and troop movements.

There were children practicing in the courtyard. Stalls and Chambers, she guessed, most with their own lightsabers. They wore white tabards over their tunics.

One of them tried to catch her eye, aware of where she had been and brimming with questions. He was good at noticing patterns in music. She’d tutored him on using that skill to hearing the harmonies between people, to expand it further, outwards, and notice patterns on the large scale. “Sing with us!”

The Exile shook her head. She hadn’t needed Revan’s warning: she knew war had changed her songs. To sing with anyone younger than Singer would be to threaten the purity of their self-expression, Revan had said, so perfectly mimicking Vrook that both the Exile and Alek had doubled over laughing. Revan had meant it, all the same.

“I don’t think I should.”

Words were enough, with his keen hearing, or perhaps it was her gift combined with his, and there was a harmonic between them already. The padawan sang it back: took what he heard in her voice and expanded on it, sang you are a shield for us, even in your silence, you couldn’t just do nothing, you will do it because you can.

There was something new in his voice, a thread of determination backing up his joyful curiosity. Here was one who could see a threat to all he had ever known and still sing in the face of it.

But the echo of death rarely came to Dantooine, in those days. He’d never seen it. She had.

The Exile sighed, all caution made useless. “Your chamber-master is going to kill me.”

“What is Atris going to say?” he said, amused. “I chose to sing it, so it is part of my song now.”

“I don’t hear anything different,” says Vrook. There’s no lie in his voice. “Your voice is not as good as it was, and you still have no songs.”

“But I sing!”

“I can’t deny that I see the effects of music. You make sounds, and things happen. And yet it is difficult to believe.”

The Exile waits. Perhaps Vrook’s lack of affection for her will allow him to tell her something that Zez-Kai Ell and Kavar could not.

“I see that you wrap the songs of your companions around you, but can you sing me a song of yourself?”

“And influence your songs, Master Vrook?” says the Exile. Her Control holds her steady enough to give her space to wonder why the question made her afraid, and, because she was afraid, angry. “‘Corrupt the purity of your self-expression’ with something you were never meant to know?” If she sang of Malachor, like Ansset sang of his life when he returned to the Songhouse, would it be mercy or cruelty? Even in Ansset’s time, it had been a close thing, a knifeblade either way, and it had been the experiences of one man, one who had never known war.

She carries Malachor around her like a cloak. A thousand songs in agony, a thousand voices silenced at her order. It is foolishness to think she does not.

“Hmph,” says Vrook, but there is a grudging and temporary respect as he gives her one last lesson.

Kreia, on the other hand, is incensed. “What fool denies wisdom offered to them? The tree that does not lean into the wind, does not withstand the storm. This planet and it’s people have seen pain, and is he processing it, or his own? Pah! He is ‘keeping his songs pure.’ And you,” she says, rounding on the Exile. “Do not think you are protecting anyone by your silence. They will learn or they will break.”

I’m sure I know you, the Exile sings, from behind the Disciple.

“I am sure I just have one of those faces,” he responds.

“That was songtalk.”

The Disciple turns around, his expression wry. “So it was. You do remember me.”

She does remember the padawan in Stalls and Chambers who sang her own song back to her, and he remembers her.

“The music, that is easy to forget,” he says. “With no need for Control to store your songs, and no need for singing. The stone of the Songhouse is my childhood home, my foundation, but when I grew up became a soldier, not a singer.” And: “The songmaster I would have chosen, the one meant for me, was lost.”

Lost, not dead. Her decisions had echoes she had not accounted for. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” says the Disciple. He gestures to the rubble around them. “I left the Songhouse before all of this. I had skills the Republic could use. Besides, I had already begun to have doubts when the Songmasters couldn’t hear the purity of your intentions. I did not want to be a part of the Songhouse if it would punishyoufor doing the right thing.”

“Purity of intentions does not mean I did the right thing,” says the Exile. “It’s easy to lose sight of what the right thing is in war.”

His amused smile hasn’t changed at all, nor his habit of hearing what she won’t say. “It would not kill you to admit that you have definitive opinions on the justice of your sentence.”

“Do you still wish to come with me?”

“I do.”

She takes his hand. “Will you sing with me, Mical?”

She finally gets a long conversation with Kavar.

It is good to see a friendly face.

He says much of the same things Vrook had: that her songs are a casualty of the war; that mortality is not conducive to song. His song is placid, calming. He is not lying, but he is not telling her everything, either. I can wait, the Exile thinks.

No. It is what Kavar is singing. You can wait. All things in time. The threat will reveal itself in time.

Not everyone has that luxury, Songmaster, she sings. Some who think they do, do not.

“How do you know what would have happened?” he counters. They are definitely not just talking about whatever is hunting Jedi. “Do you see what was lost because of Revan’s recklessness. Yours?”

“Do you not think I know what I did? Do you not think I carry it with me?”

I know you do, he sings. The apology is genuine, but it is as much apology as she is ever going to get. There is a sadness there, too, as if she has failed to learn something vital.

“The future is in flux and the past is a song already sung,” says the Exile. What’s done is done.

“Oh, my dear,” says Kavar. “Nothing is ever done.”

Someone, it seems, either in the Songhouse or in the Republic army, has taught the Disciple how to lay and remove blocks, and with his reopened connection to his songs, he is quickly combining the two, to devastating offensive and defensive effect.

In time, she thinks, the others will seek him out, let him sound out the shape of their minds, and make sure there are no nasty surprises there. Ask him to lay a few blocks of his own, against horror, against paralysis and confusion.

Well, she thinks. Everyone but Atton, who dislikes the Disciple, blocks, and people who deal in them.

“A word, songmaster?” says the Disciple.

She steps into the medbay.

The Disciple places his hands behind his back, but not before she can see that his hand is injured. “It’s about our pilot.”

Wonderful.

“He was asking some rather pointed questions, and I --” he clears his throat. “What I mean to say is that I’ve been away from the Songhouse long enough to know what is and is not my business.”

The Exile hums her confusion.

Mical shifts his weight onto his right foot slightly, and back again, a strange break of Control, for him. “For all that Atton’s ignorance of Modesty is startling, his song for you is-- what I mean is that there will be no back-singing from me, songmaster.”

The Exile pinches the bridge of her nose, comprehension finally dawning. Were they in the Songhouse, they would have never broached this subject. “Are you expecting a thank you?”

The Disciple lifts his chin, but blushes.

After that, it’s not entirely a surprise when Atton wanders into the cockpit with a cold pack over his eye --kolto is too valuable to waste on inter-crew spats. He waves off her hands when she takes off her gloves and reaches for him. He sits, and hums his own healing, looking pleased with himself when it works.

“All right,” says the Exile. “What happened?”

Atton looks sheepish, the mirror to Mical’s blush. “Uh. You remember the question I asked you, when we first met? About growing up Songhouse?”

“...yes?”

“Well you didn’t answer it all the way. You said how it worked for you, and said it was different for others. So I asked Mical.”

Sithspit. She stares at him. Asking questions, Mical had said. A startling ignorance of Modesty. Mical was trying to be gracious. “You deserved that.”

“Yeah. Well. I know that now. Matter of fact, I now know a whole hell of a lot of things I didn’t need to know, because after punching me in the face on principle, and explaining why you never ask a Songhouse kid that question, Mical treated me to a very nice lecture on the science of pain receptors and their connection to hormones, all the drugs you and he are allergic to, and a graphic theory on what happened to Darth Malak’s face. Which I really did not need to know.”

He has a point. “Sorry.”

Atton leans back, bracing his feet against the bottom edge of the control panel, and putting his hands behind his head. She knows better than to think he’s actually relaxed. “Why’d you answer my questions the first time, anyway? I probably would have wound the Disciple up about it, just to be an asshole, but I do like to know how much of an asshole I am before I really commit.”

“I don’t know,” she says, honestly. There’s no answer that she wants to give that is satisfactory: they either say too much or too little.

“I’m sorry. That those things happened, I mean,” he adds, when she raises an eyebrow. “To you, to Mical, to kriffing Darth Malak and Revan, even. Family should make you stronger, not...not limit your choices like that.”

“Ancient Selkath doesn’t have a word for wet,” she reminds him, softly.

“I know that,” he says, pulling his feet down from the ledge. “That doesn’t mean that wet didn’t actually exist.”

She is going to have to think about that one.

“Really makes me think, though. I’m not sure that I’m comfortable joining the Songhouse, if this...you know, big on bodily autonomy, me.” The last part twists, discordant, both truth and lie.

The Exile sighs. “I was disowned when they cast me out, Atton. If you want to join the Songhouse, you’re going to have to ask someone else.”

He snorts at that suggestion. “Not likely.” His clothes rustle as he squirms in his seat, crossing his arms and looking away. Rather follow you, he adds, singing so softly that the Exile can’t be sure if he sang with his voice or his mind. “Besides,” he says, louder, a bit too rapidly, “pretty sure they’re going to have to welcome you back, anyway. They’re a few singers short of a full chorus, and you’re the only Jedi Singer I’ve met with any sense.”

“Har, har,” she says, nudging his seat with a toe. “You’re right, you know. If the Songhouse survives all this, things will have to change.”

Atton swallows. “You know,” he says slowly. He still doesn’t look at her. “You know. If it’s worth anything, the Disciple told me he cleared all his medical checks when he left the Songhouse. You couldn’t hurt him. Unless you were into that, I guess.”

The Exile opens her mouth. Closes it. “Atton –”

“Don’t make fun. Kid’s got a heart like a star and the song in it is yours. Kriffing annoying, but if you haven’t heard him, you haven’t been paying attention.”

She throws her gloves at him and flees the cockpit.

The so-called Lord of Pain wraps himself in music, is barely anything besides song stitched together with veins of Control. He is loud, too much. He makes the Exile’s bones ache. Silence, she sings, breath, darkness.

Life without song, he sings. Impossible. Death.

Not death. Something else.

There is nothing else. Only hunger, only void. I do not wish to die.

You are not at peace.

Are you?

“Were you Revan’s teacher?” the Exile asks.

“Revan had many teachers,” says Kreia.

The Exile waits.

Kreia looks at her a long time, and then opens her mouth and sings Revan.

At least, as well as Revan can be sung by someone who isn’t Revan herself. Her song always lent itself to being projected upon by others.

It is answer enough.

Malak sings action over the Jedi Council’s inaction. Malak sings of the Mandalorians, sings rumors of death on the Outer Rim, sings innocents in danger, sings the Republic asking for help and finding none.

Outrage, sing the singers on the Exile’s left and right. War.

War, sings Malak. War. Outrage. The Songhouse has failed.

Illusion, sings the Exile. The figures on her left and right ignore her. Malak looks at her with a twinkle in his eye.

She’d forgotten what a pompous bastard he could be. “Alek, this is not the song we sung.”

Something had to be done.

“That’s true. But we set out to save the Republic, not throw down the stones of the Songhouse.”

Malak smiles at her, as if he knew she would agree with him, eventually. “You know that was never Revan’s desire. If you had heard what Revan heard...”

“If I had heard what Revan heard, I wouldn’t be here,” the Exile snaps. She hears the truth in it as she says the words. “If I had been following Revan, and not myself, do you think she still would have chosen you over me?”

She’s made him angry now, the line between memory and vision blurring. “They will remember me, little sister. They will not remember you.”

The Exile closes her eyes. Opens them. “I decided that Revan would not arrive with reinforcements. And so I closed the trap. I destroyed the Mandalorians. I destroyed my own forces. I won the war. But Revan delayed. I was loyal to the cause, not to her. I wasn’t intended to survive. I know that now.”

What Revan had heard had altered her song, even as it remained wholly hers, like hearing Ansset’s had changed little Fiimma’s.

Revan had not been able to hear the change.

“I don’t have to justify myself to you, Malak. I don’t have the luxury of saying I did what I was told, or that I was hoodwinked, somehow, by Revan’s charisma. I chose, and I can’t change the past. But my choices were not your choices. My reasons were not your reasons, nor should they be.”

“Wake up,” says Malak, almost pitying. “You have to wake up.”

You were going to be the songbird of Taris, Alek, she thinks. What was it that tipped the scales? Following Revan to Korriban? What Revan found in the wreckage of Malachor V? What happened after the Mandalorian War ended? Where did you go?

She ignites her lightsaber and grits her teeth, staring the illusions in the eyes.

She loses.

She hears the fear in the voices of her soldiers, and thinks she understands. “Let me go up, Captain.” I will do it. I will do it. Her voice cracks. She remembers the loyalty of her soldiers, the songs she had with them. Dxun was full of life, just as it was full of death.

She disables the mines by hand.

Was it wasted? Her soldiers ask. Did it mean something, in the end? Did we matter?

“I can’t. I won’t.”

Apathy is death, sing the illusions, a drone that rattles her bones.

The Exile almost drops her lightsaber.

Refusing to die is not quite the same as choosing to live, but she wouldn’t call it death. A stupor, a blindness, a sleep, part infection and part choice.

Kreia was right to ask if she’d found what she was looking for among the dead. Mical was right to chide her about sidestepping. It had been so easy to not to care, not to matter, not to remember that at the core of her was cold Songhouse stone, warmed by many hands.

Had she always been strong enough to bear it, or is she stronger, now?

How does this song end? asks the illusion of Kreia. The illusion uses songtalk where Kreia would not. The effect is unsettling. “Either you conclude it, or the echoes go on forever, unfinished.”

There is nothing in a dark nexus that you do not bring with you.

She crosses blades with the apparition of what she might have become, had she truly been Revan’s left hand as Malak was her right, and thinks it again, a mantra: There is nothing in a dark nexus that you do not bring with you.

She has always been able to sing in the face of death.

There is nothing in a dark nexus that you do not bring with you.

So what is this? She ducks her own blade and makes a run for it. She can’t keep her breath enough to sing.

Of course she’d seen the changes in Revan and Malak. She’d seen the changes in herself. But she had set her face long before Malachor: she had always intended to present herself for judgment. She had broken faith with the Jedi Council, and she believed she was right to do so, but such actions always had consequences.

She would not have followed Revan into the outer reaches of the darkness. She already had followed her to Dxun, to Malachor V, and through the nothing beyond. There has to be something she is not seeing.

The eyes of the specter are empty. There is no song in her, though her songs are as solid and cool as stone.

It is frightening, in an abstract way, but the Exile finds herself oddly detached from the fear. As if this battle is familiar.

There are no songs for this.

It is time to go home.

She hears the Disciple’s confession, and it occurs to her that Mical is angry. Angry in the same way that Atris was angry. Atris chose not to follow, and Mical had been too young to. That for all his Control, for all that he thinks and thinks and thinks, turning his problems over in his mind note by note, his sunny disposition is fought for, and won.

Mira calls Mical a tame kath-hound.

She is right. May the fates help whoever tries to take what he defends.

“The Seeker who brought you to the Songhouse named you well.”

“Do you think?” says Mical, and the song in his voice is bitter. “I always thought it was cruel. Someone who doesn’t look like much, named after the Emperor of the Galaxy. Mikal the tyrant.”

“Father Mikal,” says the Exile, gently. “You are an historian. You know this.” History had recorded Emperor Ansset’s heir, Ephrim son of Josif, as the first Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, but it was a Republic that the tyrant had dreamed of. The Songhouse remembered: Mikal was the father of the Republic. The tyrant who loved the greatest Songbird in history as a son.

“Do you not think,” says Mical, slowly, “that you will make it through this?”

“Something is coming,” she says, finally. And then, pitching her song to cut through the ambient noise of the Ebon Hawk: I have given each of you all I can. The legacy of the Jedi is in your songs.

Bao-Dur snorts, softly. He heard the undercurrent of the song. She suspected he would. He closes a panel on Remote, and she hears the same tune back. He has been listening to her lessons with the others.

Mira nods decisively at something. Time to stop running.

Visas waits. It will come when it will come.

Atton slams a storage compartment, suddenly, inexplicably, and incandescently furious.

“Wait, General,” says Bao-Dur. The Exile turns, and words seem to fail him then, because he sings: hope and anger, weariness and rest, vengeance and choices, all rolled up into a question.

She considers him seriously, and presses an off-hand lightsaber into his palm. “Your choice, of course,” she says, lightly, warmed by his trust, his faith. “But you’ve always seemed to thrive on the impossible. If you think you can defend the innocent with song, without malice against the enemy, then you can.” I believe in you.

Bao-Dur bows his head.

The Exile ignites her lightsaber. “Now, are you going to show me what you’ve learned from spying on everyone else, or are you going to stand there and let me lecture you?”

Bao-Dur laughs, his dry, quiet laugh so like her own, and it sounds like try me. “I’ll take practical experience any day.”

All she hears in this place is loss.

She takes off her armor, stashing it quietly in an anteroom just inside the door of the enclave. There is power running now, and she hears the fountains ahead, signs of human habitation. Signs of life.

There is an ache in her chest. She breathes deeply, slings a robe over her shoulders for the first time in nearly a decade. She is not part of the Songhouse, but she is a singer, and songmaster to other singers. She respects the wisdom of the Songmasters, but the near extinction of the Songhouse and her exile have made her a peer.

It is good to see things rebuilt. The green of growing things, the sounds of the fountains, the murmur of voices waiting for her.

But all she hears in this place is loss.

It is strange: conventional wisdom holds that grief unharnessed weakens song, but her heart is full to bursting with something indefinable. She could sing here, and shake the walls down.

She forges on, past the fountains. She does not hear Kreia follow her, nor Visas follow Kreia.

The Songmasters tell her of the gathering on Visas’ homeworld, of songs not just cut short, but emptied.

They’d seen an echo of something coming for them, and had gathered, thinking numbers might clarify the vision.

No, Atris had suggested numbers might clarify the vision.

It was Atris who had convinced the Republic to contact the Exile.

Atris, the historian, the archivist, who could not justify leaving her post and following her heart. Atris, whose song, in the Exile’s memory of their last encounter, spoke of bitterness. Atris who surrounded herself with Handmaidens who were deaf to song. To the changes in a song.

I was an historian, Kreia had said. I found more questions than the Songhouse could answer.

“Songmaster,” says Mical, turning back towards the dormitory. There is resolve in his tone. “It is not Kreia who has shaken you so.”

She gives him a level look, already seated on the meditation rug Visas bought for her on Onderon.

He tries again. “What did the Songmasters say to you?”

“The Songmasters are dead.”

“And Atris has betrayed us, yes. Songmaster.”

The Exile sits back. “Why are you here, Mical?”

“I was worried about you.”

“No, why are you here? I influenced your songs as a child. What is to say I’m not doing so now? Do you not wonder why you follow me?”

You are a parasite, spits Vrook in her mind’s eye. Forming bonds, leeching off the connections of others. Your gift of the voice has always given you undue influence over the minds of the young and wayward.

“I follow you because I believe what I heard from you all those years ago, songmaster,” says Mical. “I see with my eyes that it is still the case. I admire you. But the galaxy does not revolve around any one person, though any one person can dedicate themselves to defend it. You taught me that.”

The Exile fixes her gaze somewhere above his left ear. “At Malachor, it was –I assumed my songs were taken away, or that I was deafened by what I heard. But I stopped my own ears. The other side of my gift of the voice: if I can harmonize with anyone, I can also not.” She looks down, at the rug, at the decking. “I knew. I’d always had a knack for that trick. I pulled it on Revan once, right before a performance. I don’t remember why. Got the mother of all lectures from Songmaster Sunrider. But I knew, if I would have let myself remember.”

Mical sits in front of her, legs crossed. “You heard something you could not bear. To hear so much death at once would have killed you.”

“But to cut myself off from all song to stop listening? You can imagine the Songmasters’ reactions.”

Mical does not smile at this. “They thought you were the source of the echo of death that has followed us.”

“I am the bait. And I do carry something with me.” She looks away. “Malachor V is not gone. The song of the universe is suffering there, and I carry it, not as a cloak, but inside...”

It is like Mical cannot hear it. The Exile’s voice is empty. There is nothing of herself in it. What she has become is worse than what Atton was before: Her true song is the death of song, and the songs of others. She grows in strength from death, and from her companions. She uses her gift of the voice to sing what she hears, to sing her friends voices, their songs, to sing to the living. Everything in her song is chosen, gathered, borrowed, stolen. Not hers.

“And you think that is a matter of accident?” says Mical. “That you sing of life and living when you know also the songs of death and ending? That you spin songs from what you hear, and from the people who love you?”

She thinks of the twisted brightness around a black hole. She thinks of a bog, the water coming up from the ground, and the ground itself made of drowned plants. Death feeding life feeding death, on forever.

Mical nods, satisfied. “It is possible to be afraid of death, and so delay to make choices that will save more lives. That is why the Songmasters have failed where you have not. You know what it will take, and you are not afraid.”

“I am afraid.”

“But not of dying.”

No. Never of that.

She follows Kreia to Telos, to Atris.

The cacophony of darksong around her is unbearable. The Exile stops her ears and listens to the frightened woman in front of her instead.

She does not think to query the voices around her.

I have authored so much death, sings Bao-Dur. Let my song end saving something instead. I will die in a different way if I do not.

I do not fear, for in fear, lies death. I am not afraid to die, but no longer do I loathe my life. I ask you, finally, to forgive me for the path I took when I lost my way. It has taken time for me to return here. I’ve been stronger for the journey. What happens now shall not be done out of hate, or revenge, but for the sake of all life.

This body is a prison no longer.

Visas stands. “Let us go.”

“And so that is why you fight,” says Visas. “To prove Revan wrong.”

“Not Revan,” says Mandalore, rising.

Darth Nihilus is a hunger, a void with will, an eater of songs, a silence.

He dies like a mortal man in the end.

There is a place, the Exile knows, beyond all song. Beyond light, beyond dark, and in which there is nothing but oneself.

It is not this place.

The Exile stalks the broken surface of Malachor V. She stalks the halls of the Academy, the crucible Revan found and founded, a festering wound the Exile created. This is a place meant to break the innocent, to drive them to let go of song, or grow stronger in defiance. To change, or die.

She thinks of Atton’s songs, grown strong in spite of everything. Mira standing tall. Visas singing to herself of small pleasures. Bao-Dur surrounded by green and growing things. Mical, looking to the future clear-eyed and singing anyway. Mandalore’s steadiness. HK. T3.

She thinks of the echoes of Malachor V. Lives lost, future lost, a planet in agony, only held together by residual gravitic anomalies, the echo of the weapon that won the war.

(She can only hope Remote has found its way)

She will sing here.

She will shake the walls down.

She sends her students back to the ship.

Her face is set towards Trayus Core.

She does not notice Atton turning back.

“Wish I’d...never met you,” says Atton, and it sounds like I will always help you.

“You’re a damn liar,” says the Exile, trying to ignore the blood, trying to sort cauterized and uncauterized wounds, praying Kreia’s tutoring in healingsong will be enough. There’s nothing she can do for his eye, and likely not his arm either, but she was just fast enough and it is possible if any of them die today it might not be him. “You are never where you are supposed to be and you have always been a pain in my ass.”

“Ha-ohh, it hurts to laugh.” He reaches up a hand, and touches two bloody fingers to her cheek before it falls heavily back again. “At least I’m…good, good at it. Save...save your strength. Sion’s still out there.”

“He had better be,” the Exile growls. “You’re going to have a few dashing scars.”

“Liar. Was always ugly. Now my outsides...match my insides.” He hums and the song is his. Just his. “Thought I would never see...another face again. And then you were there again. Thought being a Singer was like breaking Control. Like giving up. But it made me more myself. You need to go.”

She’s aware that she is crying. She needs Control. “Don’t be a fool.”

“There are worse...things I could be.” His face twists. “Wish I could...have told her that. Sounds different...when you say it. Like you’re saying...something else.”

The Exile methodically weakens Sion’s Control.

In the end, he goes.

In the end, she sings Farewell for him, too.

Kreia hates Song, even as she sings, even as she knows that all living things have song, whether they hear it and sing it or not. Kreia loves the Exile, even as she tries to kill her.

You don’t have to hear the song to make a choice, the Exile sings, in a brief respite from whirling lightsabers. Life does not only consist of struggle. The answer to life’s betrayal is not silence. No silence is absolute. There is always something left. There are echoes. Nothing is ever done.

There is only yourself.

No. That which you cannot touch still exists.

I do not want your mercy, Kreia sings, though I thank you all the same. “I imagined this day, and wondered if you would offer. I wanted you to say those words. I did not imagine that I would lose the thread of all my desires and plans. That I would spurn my defeat. That in the end all I would want is for you to be complete.” You have been the best of them.

The Exile nods.

“Farewell, Exile,” says Kreia, and it sounds like the love song.

Atton leans against the doorway, a Jedi’s cloak shrouding the ruin of his arm. There’s a kolto patch over his eye again. The Exile listens, and hears the echoes of Mikal’s grudging acceptance that nothing short of sitting on the pilot’s still-healing gut wound would keep him from waiting.

Everyone is waiting.

“Mira said someone ought to see if you needed carried out,” he lies.

The Exile raises an eyebrow. From the way he’s swaying, she is the one who is going to be doing the carrying.

“Don’t just stand there, we have a bomb about to go off. And I see that look. I figure we have a long way to go to get to wherever we are going next. If you, you know, happen to need a pilot.”

The song of Malachor V ends, its echoes no longer unfinished. They are carried forward in the voices of the lives it touched; the memory of song.

I will never hurt you. I will always help you. If you are hungry Ill give you my food. If you are frightened I am your friend. I love you now. And love does not end.

#kotor 2 #star wars #fanfiction #my fic #you guys get first look before I paste to ao3 and screw up the formatting #this brought to you by atton's description of the force #and then thinking #atton's Control is f-d up #and then this ate my brain #fair warning I've been working on this for months #it's been months since i've played kotor so...#anyway atton is not nice #9000 words of this Nonsense AU

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #278

“they will seduce you, get through the door; then they bite you in the neck, leave you bleeding on the floor.”

Do you believe in dream symbolism? If so, do you ever look up what certain things in your dreams may mean? Some, yes, others, no. A lot just seem way too random to have stories behind them, but just as well, some dreams are obviously stemmed from our experiences, fears, desires, etc. Who was the last person who exploded on you? What was the reason? I have no idea, but probably Mom. Is there a certain name that keeps popping up in your life, like a name that many people you know have? No. What is something you have a "love/hate relationship" with? What do you hate about it, and what do you love about it? The first thing that comes to mind is technology. I grew up way too dependent on in despite my mom being a good mother that really tried to limit my time of it. It just never worked. Almost everything I do involves a computer. Through the Internet though, I’ve made spectacular friends, discovered great things (coughcoughmark), it helps me through depression and stuff… but I nevertheless hate how attached I am to it. Sometimes I feel like I’m so disconnected from the “real” world, “real” experiences, but then again, I also believe tech is a part of the “real” world. Idk how to really explain it; I have such mixed feelings. Do you like things that are cliché or not? What kinds of things that are regarded as "cliché" do you like? Sure, especially romantic cliches. I’m just such a sucker for that kind of stuff. What was the last quote you read somewhere, and who said it? “Speak your mind even if your voice shakes,” Ruth Ginsburg. We truly lost a hero. Have you heard any song mash-ups (when they put two or more different songs together) that you like? If so, which? Oh, quite a lot, I love those! The first one that comes to mind is “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy and “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had in 2014? Well, this is old. But anyway, I had one. How often do you say ‘lol’ in a computer or text conversation? Quite a bit. Idk, it just changes the tone of what you’re speaking. Whose hoodie did you wear last? My own. Have you ever listened to music you hated just to fit in? Ha ha… not devoutly, but I’d explore “cool” metal bands to try to get into. I didn’t make myself listen to them if I didn’t like ‘em, though. What’s an interesting fact about you that not many people know? Hm. Well, I don’t consider it “interesting,” but very few people (besides the Internet lmao) know that I essentially stole my then-best friend’s boyfriend by mutual flirting to the point he broke up with her and wanted me instead. I cut that shit the fuck out once he told me he loved me. It’s one of the things I’m most ashamed of. What do you want to do after high school? I’m long past high school, and let’s just say things are NOT going as planned lmao. At all. I had such, such a different vision. Do you do anything embarrassing when no one is home? No. If you had the chance to move to a completely different state/country, would you? I deadass want to move to Canada but am unwilling to move so far from my family. How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa? I don’t know age; it’s funny, I tend to remember things by school grades versus my age. Even in this situation, though, I’m not positive. Towards the end of elementary school, maybe? Do you have any saved texts? Yes, from Sara and Ashley. Do you ever play online games with your friends? Which one(s)? Once upon a time, my friend/”big brother” Sam and I would play WoW together every day and just chill out over Skype. He helped keep me company during my worst depression. We haven’t played together in quite a long time, though. I should message him. Which emoji did you use most recently? The upside-down smiley face on Facebook. Who was the last person to cry in your presence? Mom, probably. Or one of my nieces or nephew. Do any of your friends have small children? Yes. One of my closest friends had her son not even two weeks ago. Do you ever wear accessories in your hair? Which ones? No. What kind of fruit do you like? A good chunk of it. Strawberries, apples, grapes, pineapple, bananas, peaches… Is there anything you've always wanted to do that you've never told anyone? *shrugs* Maybe. Do you flush the toilet with your hand or your foot? ”I use my hand at home and in other people’s bathrooms, but I use my foot in public washrooms.” <<<< Same. What is your Myers-Briggs Type Indicator? (Ex: ENTP): INFP. Do you read any blogs? If so, which ones? No. Would you rather have curvy legs or skinny legs? I’d prefer to have an in-between. What is your favorite game show? Family Feud with Steve Harvey. How many times a day do you use the restroom? Hm. Depends on how much I drink. What was the last thing that made you cringe? Idr. What is your favorite ‘80s movie? I’m not sure, given how I don’t tend to recognize movies by decades. Do you have your own car? No. I don’t drive. Who was the last person who drew you a picture? I commissioned someone on deviantART to draw My Child Jaw and it is so FUCKING beautiful. Would you rather hold a scorpion or a snake? I love snakes, so guess. How do you usually get your exercise? I don’t, but that’s going to change when we FINALLY fuckin move. I’m going to walk as much as I possibly can because we have a sidewalk. Who are your godparents? Idk if I even have any. Are any of your siblings married? Three are and one is engaged. What does your phone case look like, if you have one? It came with a plain purple one. What is something you can draw really well? I think I’m pretty good at meerkats. Best field trip experience? The zoo in the 5th grade. One and only time I’ve seen meerkats irl. What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? Idr. It’s very rare I can pay for anything because I don’t have an income, but with gifted money and stuff, it was probably when I paid for my mom and I to eat at Olive Garden. I don’t recall how much it was, but OG isn’t cheap, so. Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? Idk. I had good teachers. What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? I don’t know. Nothing exciting. Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Not really, no. There are cases where I do, like if I take too big a bite or something, but generally I don’t. Everyone has to eat. What is the worst thunderstorm you’ve experienced? I recall one in particular during my era of being terrified of them when we were on the way home from a friend’s house and there was INSANE lightning. I was crying so much in the back seat. I think I have experienced worse ones, that’s just the one I remember because of how much it terrified me. How quickly can you write an essay? Pretty damn quickly once I get into the groove of it. Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? No. What bug frightens you most? Oh yikes, idk. A lot of bugs scare me, honestly, particularly if they surprise me. Probably rhinoceros beetles. Are your parents supportive of you? Very. Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? No. Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom? lol oops Have you ever had sex on your bedroom floor? How about your living room floor? YIKES this survey getting frisky but anyway idk. When you kiss someone, do you like to play with their hair? Yeah. Do you regret sleeping with anyone? No. Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed? No…? Your hair is just gonna get messy while sleeping. Have you ever asked anyone out? Do you prefer to do the asking out, or wait to see if the other person will ask? Yes. I don’t really have a preference. Have your parents ever disapproved of anyone you had a relationship with? Not to my knowledge. When’s the last time you ran? HUNNY Brittany doesn’t RUN. Have you ever stayed online for a long time waiting for someone? Oh yes, I did that A LOT with Mini back when we were younger and RPed together like every day. Who or what sleeps with you? Roman, my cat. Would you wear a boy/girlfriend’s clothes? I somehow wound up with quite a few of Jason’s pj pants?????? But anyway yeah sure, I would. If it fit, anyway. Do you return your cart? I am a lazy person. But not that lazy. Do it. What noise do you hear? I’m currently listening to NateWantsToBattle’s cover of “Feel Good Inc.” Would you survive in prison? No. No. I know I’d try to commit suicide. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? The IT remake with Girt. Have you ever cheated on someone? No sir. Do you kiss on the first date? I never have, but not saying I wouldn’t. BUT I most likely would not just because I reserve kisses for someone I really, really like. Usually by the first date I wouldn’t know that yet. Are you into sports? Nope. Have you ever used your bra to hold things like you would a pocket? HAHA I don’t think so. Who knows a secret about you that no one else does? My ex-therapist. What is your longest relationship to date? 3 ½ years. Who ended the last relationship you were in? It was brought up by her, but it came to be a mutual decision. Have you ever gotten back with an ex? No. Who was your first prom date? Jason. Have you ever dated someone more than three years older than you? For less than a day. Have you ever been used? I don’t think so. Do you like when I guy takes you by surprise and kisses you? This is making quite a few assumptions, but anyway, if we’re in a stable relationship, generally yes. It’s cute. Would you be more likely to date a redneck or a goth? My dream partner would be a goth, hnnnnnnnnGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. Has anyone ever sung to you? Yes. Do you like massages? EW don’t touch me like that unless you’re my s/o. Have you ever been skinny dipping? No. When was the last time you spent the night at someone else's house? The last time I was at Sara’s. What scares you more, spiders or snakes? Spiders. Does it matter if a guy has a sense of humor? If he’s a romantic interest, yeah. Would you ever get implants? No. Have you ever had a crush on a sibling's friend? No. Have you ever dated someone with a child? No. I’m quite sure I wouldn’t. Have you ever dated someone of another race? For less than a day. Have you kissed anyone today? No. What was the last topic you read about? I beliiieeeve… Metallica’s new album. Have you ever participated in a fundraising campaign? I think? Again, I don’t have an income though so I’m unsure. Do you know how to knit? No. What’s your go-to order from KFC? I don’t go there. What was the last album you listened to in full? Oh man, there’s no telling. I generally don’t do that. Do you use pepper to season your food? Sure, that’s a common enhancement. Do you know anyone who has an unusual pet? Probably somebody. Have you ever known anyone who was homeless? My mother, Nicole, and I technically were at one point, we just had spectacular people let us live with them until we got a new place. Did you have a treehouse when you were younger? No. One does not simply build a treehouse in pine trees. Have you ever played Magic: The Gathering? Guys. Guys. For many many months now I’ve been dying to and idk why. That game was one of Jason’s favorite things in the world and so he taught me it how to play, though I never fully got it because there are a LOT of rules. When I had my PS3, I had one of the Duels of the Planeswalkers games, and I miss that shit. What are your thoughts on role playing games? Fun fun. What is a band you can't stop listening to right now? I’ve been seriously into 3TEETH lately, as well as Solence. Have you ever had a panic attack? LOTS!!!!!!!! Have you ever entered a talent competition? Naw, I don’t have an exceptional talent. Are you indecisive? Ridiculously so. Are you smiling in your Facebook profile picture? It’s actually one of my brightest smiles I’ve ever taken a selfie with. I look way happier than I am lmaooo. Describe your hometown. What's it like there? Small, notoriously dangerous. Do you have any expensive hobbies? You could say photography given the various lenses and other materials available, plus editing software subscriptions. What is the oldest online account that you still use? My email, probably. What was the last video game you beat? I wanna say it was the last time I replayed Silent Hill 2. Long time ago. What's your favorite Studio Ghibli film? I actually haven’t seen any. Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Yeah, sure, like various entertainers/bands/musicians, TV shows…

#survey #surveys #quiz #questions #questionnaire

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