#yesterday i had a fragment of a song stuck in my head

[felizusnavidad]

do you ever wake up and your brain is like SONYA IS GOOD, NATASHA IS YOUNG AND eurydice was a hungry young girl... (NINAROSARIOTHEBARRIO'SBEST!) heather... heather... heather... DIVORCED BEHEADED DIED veronica? veronica??? VERONICA!!! ...and MR HERMES THAT'S ME! (...naomiiiiii...rodrigueeez...) beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeetlejuice HEY BALAGA HO BALAGA HEY HEY HO BALAGA... AND LAFAYETTE ANDREY ISN'T HERE!!! DIVORCED BEHEADED SURVIVED (i am usnavi and you probably never heard my name) and what about pierre... what about pierre... what about pierreeeee... AND PEGGY!

[earthfire-75]

I don't know what to say about it,

When all you ears have turned away,

But now's the time to look and look again at what you see,

Is that the way it ought to stay?

Kashmir

Chapter Two, Part One:That’s the Way (Sleepwalking)

(Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music and beta’ed by @lady-jane-revisited )

I woke up the next morning and got out of bed. It was then I realized that I was indeed in a bed, when I had fallen asleep on the couch. Robert must have moved me when he came up to the room. I shook my head and went back out into the main room to get my clothes, quietly and quickly getting dressed. Sure enough, there was Robert in my place on the couch. I took the room key once more and made a dash out to the hall. Unfortunately, I was stopped by Cole.

“Enjoy yourself?” He asked sarcastically. “Honestly, though, I figured you’d be coming out of Jimmy’s room. Since he found you and all. Such disloyalty.”

“Do you actually know what happened last night, or are you just talking out of your ass?”

“I know how things work around here, girl. More than you do. It would have been bad enough if you had been with Jimmy. But Robert? That just looks bad for you. Half the other roadies already think you're getting special treatment just because you’re a girl. Myself included. This? Just reinforces that assumption.”

“I’m sorry, should I have slept out in the hallway? You know what, I don’t have time to stand here and justify to you where I slept last night. I have things to do before I officially start my job this morning. If you’ll excuse me.”

I stepped forward, trying to walk past Cole, but he stuck his arm out to stop me from leaving. Thankfully, before he could say anything further, G came around the corner. Less fortunately, Rogina was right beside him. It seemed they had been talking, but stopped upon seeing the scene in front of them. Rogina came to my side, glaring up at Cole, but it was G who spoke.

“Is there something wrong?”

Cole immediately dropped his arm and straightened his posture. “I was just explaining to the newbie that employees don’t sleep with the band. Even if she is a girl.”

G’s eyes narrowed at Cole. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“And I was explaining that it’s none of his damn business and I got a couple of things to grab from the drug store across the way because I currently have no toiletries or anything to pack my stuff in.”

“You’re right, it isn’t any of his business. That being said, you were supposed to get everything you needed yesterday.”

“I know and that’s on me, but everything was so rushed yesterday. And I know it’s not going to be any less so today.”

G sighs but nods. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you, my dear.”

“You’re just going to let her go?”

“Yes, and if you’re the reason she’s late coming back because you refuse to get out of her way, not only will you be picking up her slack, you can carry her things as well!” G boomed at him.

Rogina piped up beside me, “I’ll go with her, help her get what she needs so it goes faster.”

Cole just threw his hands up and stepped to the side. “Fine!”

Rogina roughly bumped her shoulder into Cole as she walked past him, glaring daggers at him before we headed to the elevator. We were silent for some time as we made our way to the drug store across the street.

Rogina grabbed a shopping basket, “Sorry that you had to go through with that Anj. Cole’s always been fucking prick that loves to cause trouble.” She tossed in hair brush, “If he or anyone gives you trouble, let me know.”

I smiled as I added in shampoo and conditioner bottles, “Thank you. I’ll be okay, I can handle him.”

Rogina sighed as she placed a tube of toothpaste in, “Well let me know if he does anything, okay?”

“I will. Come on, we better hurry.”

We had managed to grab what we could during those five minutes. Having her here was great, given the time crunch and that she could help me find the necessary items that I would need, plus a backpack to my belongings. She offered to help pay for some of the items, but I let her know that I could take care of it. Once we were done, we hurried back to the hotel and found everyone in the lobby. G and Bonzo were conversing with Cole, their arms were crossed as they stood before the bearded man.

Robert spotted us and walked over, “There you are, is everything alright?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I just needed to get a few things-”

“No I mean, I heard about what happened this morning. G told me. I’m sorry Anjelika,” he continued.

“Really, I’m okay Robert. Besides he can say and think whatever he wants to,” I assured him. “I doubt he’ll be much of a problem anyway.”

Robert’s eyebrows pulled together, “Even so-”

G’s voice bellowed, “Alright everyone, make sure that you have what you need! It’s time to head out!”

And with that, we all grabbed our stuff and made our way out to the buses.

Robert had been kind enough to already have my things with his, so I was able to quickly transfer it all to the backpack. He mentioned something about needing a bag for my dresses so they wouldn’t get all wrinkled, but I didn’t have time to respond, quickly closing up the backpack and getting on the roadies’ bus. At least the trip to the venue wasn’t all that long.

Once there we got out and started unpacking the equipment to take inside and set up while G took the bands to go talk with the venue owner and crew. The whole process took quite a few hours and we took a break for lunch before resuming. We finished about three hours before the show was to start and slowly, everyone else left the stage.

Alone at last, the other roadies, Cole included, left the stage after everything was set up, I went to pick up the acoustic and sat at one of the stools and began to play. I didn’t know it, but I was being watched by Robert and Jimmy at one side of the stage, Rogina on the other.

“Life detaches

Much less loved

A taste familiar

But watered down

And each day passes

Into the next

Like television

Flickering unseen”

“She sounds so sad,” Robert whispered to Jimmy.

“She sounds…lost,” Jimmy responded thoughtfully. “There’s something else, too. I get shivers whenever I hear her sing.”

“I breathe

But I don't often think about it

Anymore

It's become a habit

Those embers fragment

That fire was

Just a fracture

In the ice“

Bonzo came up behind Robert and Jimmy. “Hey, guys!” Robert and Jimmy shushed Bonzo at the same time.

“Okay…” he responded in a whisper. “But why are we watching Anjelika like a bunch of creeps and whispering about it?”

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking“

“Because,” Robert whispered sadly, “I don’t think she would keep doing this if she knew she was being watched.”

“She’s turned down every opportunity to play in front of an audience, even as a backup. But, for me, it isn’t just that. I get the feeling she isn’t telling us everything.”

“And poetry

Fills an empty room

With science broken

And confused

And my desire...

Becomes a pacifier

I need to feel

Alive & awake”

“Everyone is allowed some secrets, Jimmy. You, of all people, should understand that,” Bonzo said pointedly.

Jimmy finally looked at Bonzo with a raised eyebrow. “You know something we don’t, don’t you?”

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking”

“S’pose I do?”

“Care to share with the class?

“Not my story to tell, Jimbo,” Bonzo shrugged .

“Something aging

In the water

In the damage

To my soul

The wishing fire

Is still alive

And I think his heartbeat

Will not die

How can I give

Anymore of my life

Away…”

“Fine, keep her secrets too.” Jimmy walked away.

Robert and Bonzo sigh and shake their heads at their friend. Both of them know that Jimmy won’t let it go so easily. He never did.

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking.”

“I just want her to be ok. No, more than that, really. I just…don’t know what to do.”

From her side of the stage, Rogina finally stepped out of the shadows toward me, a broad smile on her face. “That was beautiful, Anj. Robert’s right, you really should show off your talent.”

I smiled and ducked my head, given that my face was red. She had been nothing but good to me and for some reason, I had a harder time resisting her charms. Not that it was easy resisting Robert’s. Instead of answering her, I started to play again, something that might be more familiar to her. Tom Petty’s Breakdown, even taking on the singer's more southern dialect.

“It's alright if you love me

It's alright if you don't

I'm not afraid of you runnin' away, honey

I get the feeling you won't”

“There is no sense in pretending

Your eyes give you away

Something inside you is feeling like I do

We said all there is to say”

“Baby, breakdown, go ahead and give it to me

Breakdown, honey, take me through the night (baby, baby, breakdown)

Breakdown, now I'm standin' here, can't you see?

Breakdown, it's all right”

“It's all right

It's all right”

The next thing I knew, Rogina sang along with me as well. Her singing started out softly at first until she reached the chorus and her voice came out strong and powerful like a mountain. While I was familiar with Daltrey’s voice, to hear it before me was something else. As we continued, we found ourselves singing in such a lovely harmonious manner that the world around us seemed to have stopped.

The song came to a close, she placed a hand on my shoulder, “You have a great talent Anjelika.”

“Well compared to you, I seem like more of an amateur,” I joked.

“No Anj, your voice is lovely and so is your playing. That song you were singing before, I’ve never heard of it.”

I looked down for a moment, “Oh it’s just a little something that I’ve been working on.” I stood up from the stool and placed the guitar down, “I better get back to work.”

“Anj-”

I had already made my way off the other wing, only to see Robert, Bonzo, and Jimmy there. My face was flushing as I walked past them. I felt like such an idiot! What on earth was I thinking? The show was to start fairly soon and I had a job to complete. The ticks on the clock continued as everything from lighting, technical matters, clothing, and the instruments were put into place. The doors to the stadium opened and the fans made their way inside. The more dedicated fans were attempting to do what they could in order to get as close to the band members as possible. Security was already on the matter and they kept their composure as they desperately hoped to catch a glimpse of their idols.

I walked through the hallway with a black coffee in hand, hearing the echoes of varying conversations going on between roadies. I would offer a smile as I passed by, some would offer one back, others would give me a look of disdain. Cole was within my sights and so I kept my eyes facing forward. I kept my distance from him as I moved out of the way.

Cole blew a cloud of smoke in my direction, “On your way to give ol’ Plant a little ‘warm up session?”

I kept my back to him, “Why don’t you go do that yourself? Since you seem so keen on the idea.”

G walked over, “You two ladies fighting again?”

Cole answered back, “Actually I was just about to check on the boys.”

G raised a brow as he watched him walk away, “How are you doing Anjelika?”

“Well things seem to be going well for my first day.”

“Good. Now since this is your first night, I don’t expect you to know everything that happens. You might feel a little confused about how we do things at first, but you’ll learn pretty quickly.”

I nodded, “So how long do you think tonight’s show will be?”

G took out a cigar and lit it, “I reckon about three and half, four hours tops. I’ll have you out on the wings to help with instruments for right now. I want to see how you do tonight, then I’ll add more duties to your list.”

“Thank you Mr. Grant.”

I felt a gloved hand on my shoulder. Following the black leathered glove, I was greeted with the sight of Alice Cooper wearing a leather ensemble. His eyes and sides of his mouth were marked in his signature look.

“How do I look?” He asked

“Like a freak,” I answered with a smile.

“Why thank you,” he responded kindly with a genuine smile. “See you after the show.”

He and his fellow bandmates excitedly made their way down the hall, ready with their instruments in hand. They greeted the cheering crowd with the first notes and so the first act of the show began.

I gave all the support I could from the sidelines and adjusted guitars, restringing them when needed. His act lasted for a little under an hour and I gave him a hug in congratulations when he came off the stage. The Who were next and as Rogina passed me, I gave her a hug as well and a kiss on the cheek, despite my better judgment. “For luck.” I explained with darkened cheeks when she gave me a questioning look.

“Thank you,” she responded with a smile, then headed out onto the stage to join her bandmates. Halfway through their act, Rogina made some anecdote about life on the road and as a woman in rock music. She mentioned me, though not by name and dedicated the next song to a “special someone”, all the while looking at me and began to play ‘Love Ain't for Keeping’.

When their act was done and Rogina came off the stage, she came up to me and gave me a proper, if chaste, kiss before going back to the changing rooms. Then it was time for Zeppelin, the last act for the night. I hated how heartbroken Robert looked as he walked past me on his way to the stage. I had been so worried about getting my own heart broken…

“Wow, Anj…Rogina too? And poor Robert had no idea, did he?”

“Shut the fuck up, Cole,” I seethed.

“Or wha-“

I was beyond done with the man, if he could be called one, I whirled around and decked him, knocking him to the floor. Standing over him now, I took a fistful of his shirt and hauled him into a sitting position and got in his face. “You really need a lesson in minding your own fucking business. Do yourself a favor and keep Rogina’s name out of your mouth and the next time you decide to butt into my life outside of actual work, I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be eating my steel toe boots!” I hadn’t realized it, but my eyes were glowing as I spoke.

I stood back up to find G standing there, but he didn’t say anything to me, just gave me a nod and I went back to doing my job. G had security take Cole to another room to get looked at and bandaged up as his nose was bleeding a little.

I marched into the hallways, grabbed myself a beer, and found an isolated area to sit and cool down. The day hasn’t ended yet and Cole continues to be a nuisance. I had hoped that after today he would have gotten the message. I heard the sound of footsteps approaching and quite frankly I wasn’t in the mood to talk. At this point I didn’t care who came over, I was angry and I needed some time to be alone. Yet my ears perked up when I heard a familiar voice.

“Anjelika,” Rogina softly called. “Are you alright?”

She took a seat next to me, but I scooted away, keeping my eyes on my beer, “I’m fine.”

“I saw what happened from the changing room.”

I uttered under my breath, “So? It’s resolved, let it go.”

[ji-yaaan]

Hello Yam Yam. It's been awhile. Y'know, I don't really know what I want to drink today, so can I have some of that mystery tea with Riddle? Maybe some illegal h*nd h*olding can be involved? ಡ ͜ ʖ ಡ

°•°•°•𝓑𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓓𝓸𝓾𝔁•°•°•°

Riddle Rosehearts x Reader Oneshot

Note: Not to be biased because I know you.... But frack it, I AM BIASED! Here have a oneshot I made in the toilet at 3am as I watch the Heartslabyul Tv commercial continuously sobbing- lololol jk.... oR iS it? Anyway... Have a oneshot made with my tears!

Warning: slight angst! ( ◜‿◝ )♡♡♡

[ 𝚃𝚎𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚈𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 :') ]

A faint glow of the dim lamplight illuminates the still room swallowed by daybreak. Warm rays of light seeps through the lace curtains reflecting unto the boy whom laid peacefully in bed. Crimson red lashes adorned the smooth white skin that lies under.

Eyes that opened revealed the slate tinted irises that peered unto the bright windows. The birds that sung mellifluous songs rung from the trees into the lonesome room of the young boy. Dark circles that looked out of place painted his pale face that seemed more lifeless than the usual.

With the curtains that flew from the morning zephyr, the Colors that burned lit the the small bedrooms blinding the young boy. Raising a hand to block the blinding rays of light, a troubled sigh escapes his lips. "It seems as if it's morning now..."

Standing on his two feet, Dishevled crimson hair stuck to his forehead. He stood by the large bright windows savoring the morning breeze that blew past his finger, reaching out for nothing. He stared at his empty fingers that lost the hold of you, his thoughts that whispered in his brain the unspoken feelings he wished he had said.

How pathetic... He's stuck in a limbo of wanting to forget and wanting to hold on to the dissapearing memory of you. The constant chaos that gracefully consumed him, the fading daydreams he tightly held on to, the dreams that was now lost in the nights you won't spend together.

Another troubled sigh escaped past his lips yet again. The aurora skies that painted the clouds seemed duller than the usual... How nice it felt to view a world with rose tinted glasses... But that dream slowly crumbled at the grasp of his fingers...

Putting on his clean uniforms, tying up is necktie into a bow, he was ready to set off to do his routine at Night Raven Collage. Walking into the hall of mirrors in the early morning, his memory was still fuzzy. It felt as if moments and memories were cut off... Just like a vivid daydream that never happened.

"What even happened yesterday?" Riddle questions himself propping his fingers in his temple. Walking off to school never felt as horrible as this before. What really happened you ask?

Reminiscing on the events that unfolded, the boy tried to remember the cause of his misery... "Oh right... I almost forgot... Y/n left..." Eyes filled with melancholy stared at the floor, then to his shoes. He stopped in his footsteps feeling his stomach churn and his heart grow heavy. He can't help but make a pained smile in the middle of the halls as he stared off in the clear skies.

"How pathetic... I wasn't even there to send them off yesterday... I guess that was foolish of me to busy myself to forget about them... I wonder what they're doing now..." A troubled sigh escapes his lips as he clutch his chest from the unexplainable pain he felt.

"How jarring..." He continues his pace with heavy hearts. A drowning thought came to his mind "Dear heart... please let this feelings fade..."

Today really seemed dull. A wash of rain storm that poured down in the gardens of the Heartslabyul dorm, Rain that drowned the emptiness and sorrows of a young boy. The dorm leader drowned himself in unfinished paper works in hopes to forget his bitter woes of unspoken love that will never come true.

Words after words, pages after another, the hundreds of letters written across the papers, yet.... He still can't erase the vivid memory of you, just like a man hopelessly drunk in love... How pathetic...

4:30pm... During these times, it's usually at these hours where you serve him the sweetest chamomile tea that never fails to soothe him. Was it because of the warmth and aroma of the flowery tea? Was it because of the soothing properties of the tea itself? Of course not... It was because you were there to accompany him... You were there...

Now... You were just a fading memory that slowly vanished from his arm's reach... Maybe it's true with what people say... You will never know a value of the simplest moment, not until it becomes a memory you have no choice but to hold on to.

After a few moments of haze and confusion, stuck in a daze bewildered by the thoughts of you. A loud knocking came from the door, muffled by the loud roars of thunders and rain. Even if it was such a stupid and hopeless thought, a small part inside him wished it was you when the doorknobs turned and opened.

"Oh riddle... There you are. We haven't seen you much yesterday and even today." It was Trey... It was just Trey... Of course it was Trey. Oddly enough, Riddle felt like the stupidest man alive expecting you to come in from the door. He was truly disappointed from his own foolish fantasies. Just how stupid has he become, ready to beg just for a glimpse of you?

"Is that so? I'm a little busy yesterday and today... Maybe even tommorow too... I expect you to take care of the dorm as the vice dorm leader." Riddle sighs rummaging through the piles of documents scattered across his table.

"Riddle, I know what you're doing. You've been avoiding the first years since yesterday. Stop doing this to yourself, look at you... You look lifeless these days... You know... regarding about yesterday, Y/n-" Trey tried to reason with Riddle, only to be left to get cut off in the middle of his sentence.

"The troublesome first years ate the tarts in the fridge again... according to Rule#89: You must never eat my tarts without my permission. But I'm feeling merciful today, so it's not off with their heads yet. But do tell them according to Rule#53: You must replace the things you stole. Send my regards to them that if they don't return my tarts, it's off with their heads." The pen in between his fingers scratched aggressively at the thin papers beneath, the calm atmosphere in the room changed quickly in a bitter mood. Just with a single mention of a forbidden name, all reason and rationality was thrown off the window.

"Riddle..." Trey was just worried, a wash of worry and pain covered his face, but again, he was interrupted. "I expect one answer from you Trey." The slate irises pierced gazes at the third year.

"Of course, dorm leader..." Placing a tray of teapot and a tea cup in the desk, trey set off to leave the dorm leader's office.

As riddle was pouring a cup of tea in his teacup. The flowery scent of Earl gray tea enveloped the room for a brief moment. He could never get used to the bitter taste that lingered in his mouth with the bleak world without a glimpse of you. Even if it was just a voice... A strand of hair... Anything... Anything would be fine to feed his lonesome desires.

Whilst sipping a cup of his tea, his eyes wanders off in a corner you used to sit. How he fell for you easily, reminiscing on the days he saw your smiles and heard your laughter, the days he gets to be there for you in times you cried your heart out... He misses you this bad, yet you're no longer there to hear his heartfelt words. Honest feelings and bad timing make one of the most painful combinations....

His eyes landed on a small worn out book that never left your hand. A book you always read and carry around at times. The book you read when the both of you enjoyed each other's company. A thought inside his head lingered, starved from your presence. Even just a small fragment that carried a part of you was enough to set his feelings to a frenzy.

Grabbing a hold of the book, lightly tracing the cover as lithe hands flips the crisp pages. Riddle notices a bookmark in between the last few pages you've read. A bookmark that looked oddly like an envelope, yet a surprising word was written in the thin piece of paper... "Riddle Rosehearts"

Intrigued by his name written across the paper, he unfolded the paper to view whatever content lies beneath. In fact, there really was a word written inside the bookmark.

Fingers lightly held unto the paper, starving for words that you may have left, even just a singled random word will do to ease the feverish need of indulging the thoughts of you. As he read letter after another, his heart flutters as his stomach churns.

The empty looking paper that was held between Riddle's shaking hands read: "Hey Riddle... If you see this someday... I like you... no, I love you.." A billet doux with simple words and blunt feelings. A single sentence that left a man speechless of his words and breathless from his underlying feelings.

He looked up the ceiling above trying to stop the salty tears forming in his eyes. He closed his eyes with thoughts of regret screaming deep inside him.

In a moment of self hysteria, rationality was thrown out his train of thoughts. Nothing seemed matter anymore. He wants to see you... He wants to hold you... He wants to tell you all of his feelings he kept deep inside him... He wants to hold onto you forever...

Like a foolish man drunk in love. He stood up in his own two feet, dashing through the long maze of hallways into the rose gardens that led a path to the hall of mirrors.

Maybe if he tries hard enough, he can make his way to see you in your world. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he can persude you to find a way to stay. Maybe if he tries hard enough, even a glimpse of your figure was enough for him... Maybe... Maybe... Mabye. Everything were just maybe's.

A young man stood in the middle of the rose gardens, drenched in the pouring raindrops with no care in the world. The grey clouds heavy with rain continuously dripped from the heavens. Red crimson hair drenched from the storm. Empty eyes looked above as the young man closed his eyes. Trying his best to get the gravity of his situation, finally taking his time to rationalize his actions.

"Hah.... This is stupid... I'm stupid... There's no way I'd get to see them again... Let alone I was dumb enough not to say a goodbye... I give up..." A scoff left his lips full of grief and misery. He crouches down in the ground as the fading moments and memories with you flashes through his mind. If only he can see you again... If only he can touch you again.. if only he could hear your sweet voice again... If only... If only...

Lonely tears prickled his face, mixed with the cold raindrops as sadness and sorrows washed his misery away. "If I were to see you again... I'd gladly give up everything for you." Silent whispers of regret muffled by the rains and thunders left to be unheard.

"Riddle? What are you doing there? Come here you might get sick!" A sweet voice like honey rung in his ears. Like spring that bloomed in nowhere washed his grief away. The words ringing that healed his despair. Was this a dream? Was this a hallucination? Has he finally gone mad? How ironic it was that he finally have gone insane. Even without saying a proper goodbye, his hallucination of you still worry about him... How fitting...

"RIDDLE!" A hand grabs Riddle's arm, waking himself up to reality. Like a miracle unfolding before his eyes. The very set of eyes he admired most peered down at him. Eyes full of worry, pain, and sadness. The eyes of the person he truly loved...

"Y/N? Why are you here? Are you real? Is this a sick prank? What is this? Weren't you supposed to be in your world now?" Eyes that widened with shock stared at the person before them. Blank thoughts, eyes that stared at you intently waiting for an answer, with his hand clutching unto your wrist desperately, as if you'd fly away at any moment.

"Of course I'm real! Didn't you hear from trey? I told him an hour ago that I decided to stay... I didn't go in the mirrors yesterday..." A sigh of relief escaped Riddle's lips, as if a weight on the world has been lifted from his shoulders. "Why did you choose to stay?" The same eyes still gazed at you with melancholy and expectation, child like innocent eyes stared at you asking for answers.

"Well... I forgot something very important you know? Turns out I can't bring them back with me... Before I forget again... Riddle... I like you... I like you so very much I'm willing to stay here forever..." Wide eyes with shock, pink cheeks flustered like rose petals. Hearing you say your confession with your words accompanied by a sweet melodic voice was a million times better...

Riddle sighs in relief again. Tears formed in his eyes fell to his cheeks. The faint glow of sunset lit the rose gardens at dusk. The storm calming down, with rain stopping and rain droplets dripped from the rosepetals and leaves. Warm tears prickled down Riddle's face, accompanied by a smile of relief as muffled sobs and hitched breaths leaves his lips. Trembling in shock and joy he mutters "I'm glad... I'm glad your here again... I'm glad you chose to stay... I'm glad you like me, because you know... I like you too."

Glossy slate eyes stared back at you as a pair of cold hands grabbed unto yours. Intertwining your fingers together, you both shared each other's warmth... A tender smile covered both of your faces as the both of you start laughing in your pathetic looking state.

fingers mingled and intertwined, he brings your hand to his face as he rested his cheek in the back of your hand. Softly inhaling and taking in your scent and presence.

“Y/n I love you...”

"I love you too Riddle!"

“I know...”

"What? How do you know?"

“Of course, I read your love note... Pfft.... That was cheesy I might say...”

"YOU READ WHAT?!"

Both drenched in cold rain, but hearts full to its brim. Heavy hearts lifted from grief and sorrows. The dull world seemed colorful and vibrant yet again. The storm that once devoured the life out of Riddle has now passed. It is time to bask in your sunlight to melt all of his worries away...

Staring at your lovely presence, a thought lingered deep within Riddle's heart...

“Seeing you brought me back to what felt like home... I love you...”

Note: Sorry that took long I needed lots of braincells for that lmao- but I really hope you enjoyed that! Took me a while to get in the groove of writing again oof... I've decided to birth lotsa oneshots in my request so if ur request takes a bit if time... That means I'm innit for brain murder time! Oh and also I am sick so it yea.... It will take longer for me to have braincells and produce content frickle frack I hate this- ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

[qlala]

I’ve had a couple requests to see the unfinished Leonard and Lisa fic I mentioned yesterday, so I’m going to try posting it here! It’s the first ~2k words, so please let me know if the “read more” doesn’t work.

The basic idea involves a meta who can link up two people’s memories, similar to the concept of “the drift” in Pacific Rim. Barry and Leonard get whammied by her during a fight, and they’re both pretty much incapacitated by it, because there’s a lot to deal with there on both sides. There’d be a coldflash endgame if I ever finish it, but that’s not overt in this section. If it’s not clear, italics indicate a memory not Barry’s own. 

Trigger warnings: Please be aware that for obvious reasons, this deals a lot with Leonard and Lisa’s abusive childhood. The abuse doesn’t appear “on screen,” so to speak, but the fallout from it and the strong emotions surrounding it do. There’s also a brief allusion to transactional sex. Please keep yourselves safe and don’t read if you’re in a headspace where those things could be harmful to you. ❤️

By the time Barry stopped screaming, Leonard had filled the team in on what had happened to them. 

Barry came back to himself with heaving, raw breaths. He tried to focus on the marble flooring beneath his cheek, and he twisted off his side to press his forehead to it, cool and grounding. 

He could hear Leonard talking—familiar voice, terse sentences, clipped like he was speaking between gritted teeth—but it took Barry a second to locate him in the room. He was pressed back into the corner of the room opposite from him, kneeling, his arms wrapped tight around his middle. His hands were knotted white-knuckled in the material of the parka, an apparent attempt to stop the shaking that was visible even from twenty feet away. 

He wondered when Leonard had moved, then wondered how much time had passed. The last thing he remembered was trying to push Leonard out of the way as the meta lashed out at them with… whatever it had been, a streak of white light, fragmented like a chain, a leash.

The memory was hard to pin down. It kept appearing to him from two different angles, and there was a headache pressing behind his eyes that grew sharper every time he tried to focus on one or the other. 

“Barry? Barry, can you—?” 

Barry didn’t even think when the hand reached for him and a barrage of memories hit him broadside: other hands, one other hand. He jerked backwards, his powers the last thing from his mind, and whoever it was yanked their hand away as if he’d just bitten them. 

“Stop.” It was odd to hear Leonard’s voice without the drawl, sharp with anger, clear and ringing. 

“He can’t help it.” 

Cisco’s voice—that was even better than the floor. The memories that floated up were Barry’s own: movie nights, STAR Labs, a Lady Gaga song playing on repeat.

“Not him,” Leonard said. When he looked up, his eyes were so blood-stained that it was hard to see the blue of his irises. That explained Barry’s headache, at least. “You. All of you. Stop touching him.”

“He needs help.” 

Iris’s tone was steady, careful; it was the voice she used on stray cats and nervous sources. Barry was glad to find her just off to his right, but he still flinched as soon as she lifted her hand.

In the corner, Leonard made an aborted movement as if to stop her. “Last thing I’d want right now is someone grabbing me.” It was taking him obvious effort to speak; he shut his eyes, and his brow was furrowed in what could’ve been pain, and could’ve been concentration. “Given the circumstances, I suspect that’s… operative. At the moment.” 

There was a silence in which all Barry could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Then Iris knelt a careful foot away and placed her hand on the ground, palm up. 

Barry nodded once—it was all he could manage—and reached out to clasp her wrist.  

“Barry?” 

He nodded again, and her shoulders dropped in relief. 

“Okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. Do you know where you are?”

He risked a glance around, only to wince at the double memories: sitting on his dad’s shoulders as he explained how he’d consulted on the new exhibit about the human body, showed him his name on a sign by the door; Lisa dragging him through the Jewels of the World exhibit, her hand impossibly small in his own, declaring the Hope Diamond hideous with the flippant confidence only a child could have.

Barry’s head throbbed, and when he rubbed his free hand under his nose, it came away streaked with blood. 

In his peripherals, Leonard mirrored the gesture, then wiped his wrist on his coat. 

“The natural history museum,” Barry rasped. “Central.” 

“Why is it affecting him more than you?” Caitlin’s voice, unexpected, behind him. “You’re getting his memories, too, aren’t you?”

Barry groaned as guilt panged in his chest; his whole team had been dragged out because he couldn’t take down one meta. 

Leonard finally looked at him again, then met Caitlin’s gaze with a hard glare. “Karaoke,” he said, surprising her into a blink. “Grease. You’re a terrible singer.” 

She looked offended, but when Leonard pushed himself to his feet, her doctor’s instincts seemed to take over, and she took a step toward him.

He held out a hand to stop her. “Your voice is the third-worst thing Barry’s past has to throw at me. Not all of us have lived such charmed lives.” 

Barry’s lip curled even as his mind latched onto Leonard’s taunt, grateful for the distraction. “My parents were killed in front of me,” he said. “And my father’s doppelganger broke my back on national television.”

Leonard glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “I ranked that last one lower than Snow’s Olivia Newton-John.”

Iris tensed beside him, but it shocked a snort of laughter out of Barry. “I’m—” He let go of Iris’s wrist, used the hand to push himself up to sitting. “I’m fine. Can we go back to the lab?”

He was about to offer to run them there, but a glance toward the glass doors brought a fresh wave of memories, decades of them tied to the museum steps, the restaurant across the street, a stop sign stolen from the intersection before he’d even been born. 

“Best to keep your eyes closed,” Leonard said. 

“Yeah,” Barry agreed. He wouldn’t have gotten down the block. “Cisco, can you—?”

Cisco powered up his Vibe gloves, a ripple already opening up in the space in front of them. “Yeah, man. Come on. Let’s get you home.” 

* * * * * * 

“I said not to call her.”

Leonard sounded on the edge of homicide, and Barry risked opening his eyes to glance over at him. He didn’t need the sensors taped to Leonard’s wrists and temple (he’d steadfastly refused to take off his shirt, had pulled a knife when Caitlin had tried to insist) to guess at his spiked blood pressure, though the monitor next to him confirmed it with a beep of alarm. 

They were in the medical bay at STAR Labs, had been for over six hours. Leonard was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, apparently above anything as vulnerable as lying down (or, apparently, painkillers, which Barry hadn’t even had the option of taking) and Cisco was doing an impressive job of standing his ground in the doorway. 

“She called me, alright, Cold? I couldn’t lie to her, not when she’s got a tracker showing her you’re sitting in my lab—” 

“She lied to you.” 

“It’s in the tip of one of your shoelaces, if it’s in the same place as mine,” Cisco offered, not unkindly.

They were interrupted by the sharp, carrying click of high heels coming down the hallway. 

The monitor next to Leonard’s bed beeped again, and Barry glanced at it. His blood pressure wasn’t the only thing elevated now; his heart rate was spiking, more than anything that could be blamed on anger. He was afraid. Barry had half a second to wonder why, then Leonard bit out, “Close your eyes,” and Lisa shoved past Cisco into the room in a whirlwind of righteous fury. 

Barry’s own memories almost didn’t recognize her. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and her hair was dramatically shorter than when they’d last met. It was short, boyishly so, and a dark brown he suspected was her natural color. 

But his memories weren’t the only ones living in his head anymore, and his mouth opened without his permission. “Lis,” he said. “I haven’t seen your hair like that since—” 

Nothing, not even that first blast of memories at the museum, could’ve prepared for the strength of the fear that slammed into him.

Lisa, barely ten, eating mac and cheese in front of the television. Lewis stumbling in the front door, reeking of beer. Every muscle tensing. A slurred name from Lewis when he saw Lisa, a name that made Len’s blood turn to ice, that made Lisa smile hopefully and ask, “Mom?” Lewis’s squint, his quiet, “Huh.” And then Lewis dropping on the couch, already halfway to passing out, and saying, “Gonna be a looker just like her.”

Len had pleaded with Lisa for hours that night, one hand on the kitchen scissors, one eye on the living room. The toy store, the candy store, fuck it, the pet store, anything she wanted, he’d buy it, just let him cut her hair, just this once, just til Dad went away again—

Barry remembered his powers just in time. He barely made it to the bathroom before his stomach heaved, and his hands were still shaking by the time he was able to take a full breath without retching again. He pushed up from the cracked floor—his knees had hit the ground hard enough to shatter the tile—and flushed the toilet, then limped out to the sink.

His reflection in the mirror was a mess; on top of everything else, his nose was bleeding again, too. He splashed cold water on his face, then changed his mind and stuck his whole head under the tap. He tried to focus on the sound of the water rushing over his ears; he needed a distraction, any distraction, to keep his mind from getting dragged back into the memory. The terror, the rage, the thousand better ways he could use those kitchen scissors to solve their problem instead of cutting off Lisa’s fucking baby curls— 

Someone shut off the water, and Barry pulled back from the sink with a wet gasp. He pushed the soaking hair out of his eyes, flinched when it dripped onto his shoulders. 

Getting too long, he thought, with a morbid hiccup of laughter. Then he threw up again. 

When he recovered, Leonard was leaning against the sink next to him, holding out a paper towel.

“She doesn’t remember that,” he said, not looking at him. It was a warning, not a statement, and Barry nodded weakly. 

“Our dad was back in prison by the end of the week.”

Because you planted a gun on him, Barry didn’t say. He remembered the weight of it in his hand, two rounds in the wall next to the gas station attendant’s head; had to leave something for ballistics. Wiping his prints off on his t-shirt, curling Lewis’s hand around the grip, the trigger, dead to the world; another shot into their floor to get the gunpowder on his hand and the neighbors on the phone with the cops. 

Grabbing Lisa out of her bed, Winnie the Pooh blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders, thirty degrees outside. She was asleep on his chest by the time he got her to Mick’s. He dropped her off and went back to join the onlookers to make sure his dad got arrested, felt a vicious, bone-deep pleasure at seeing him dragged out of the hands in cuffs. He mentally added an extra year to their fortunes when the drunk old man elbowed a cop in the face, and black blood joined the blue and red lights in staining the front lawn. 

Whatever else Leonard had been saying, Barry had missed it. The few fragments he heard—six to eight year sentence, legal guardianship—jarred another memory loose: a pro bono attorney who let his hand rest a little too long on Len’s arm; Len, broke, desperate, not shaking it off. 

The feeling the memories carried was overwhelming, threatened to bring Barry to his knees. He was too frazzled to do the math, but Leonard couldn’t have been much older than he was now. Barry had no idea how he could’ve managed it, the absolute certainty that he would’ve killed for the child in his arms, the knowledge that one day, he probably would. 

When Barry looked at Leonard, he found him gazing steadily back at him, and the full weight of his focus was so unexpected that Barry almost flinched again. He took the paper towel instead.

“When Lisa said you raised her. I didn’t realize…” He had no idea how to put it into words; maybe it was something that only someone who’d been a parent could really understand. 

“My sister’s prone to exaggeration.”

His tone was flat, clipped, and Barry let the conversation lapse. He ran the sink again, then risked another glance in Leonard’s direction. He was still watching him. 

“What did you give her?” he asked. “For her to let you cut her hair.”

Leonard was quiet for so long that Barry thought he wasn’t going to answer him. Then, finally, he lifted one shoulder in an unconvincing shrug. “Took her out of school for a week.” He crossed his arms and looked away again. “Told ‘em she had chicken pox. Brought her to work with me. Boss let her sit in the corner booth and color.”

It was enough; Barry remembered it. The bar—closed now—with its sticky floor, the regulars still passed out on the bar from the night before; he’d serve them coffee and peanuts and get to work cleaning, have the bar restocked with sliced lemons before the bartenders arrived and call the repair guy if the ice machine was broken again. The regulars put endless Shirley temples on their tabs for Lisa, syrupy sweet sodas for a buck apiece that stained her teeth red, until Len cut her off and they ordered nachos for her instead, pretzels with beer cheese, doing a better job of feeding her than Len did most nights. 

There were tears stinging Barry’s eyes; Leonard ignored them other than handing him another paper towel, this one accompanied by an eye roll.  

[gwen-ever]

I am coming home (bibloxcompany/afterlife)

A/N: Just something I had for a long time ready (eng not my first language sorry for mistakes :/)

Summary: Bilbo after a long life goes back home.

Warnings: sad, very sad, major character death, angst, sad fluff at the end.

Song: Coming Home - Skylar Gray

And the blood will dry

Underneath my nails

The years had passed, the hands worn out, the spirit withered.

Bilbo had struggled all his life, struggling against the desire to leave again, to see the Wilds again, to taste the air of the Misty Mountains, to rest under the shadow of the Lonely Mountain.

Dry was the blood on his blade, dry was the blood under his nails, washed away by the inexorable time, which flowed for him at last.

His last journey was never so desired, but his youthful spirit had abandoned him in the gardens of Rivendell. Like a blade beaten too long his spirit had broken, under the trees that withered in the valley. He would have never seen again the white peaks, no longer hear the thrushes or watched the great dwarves' rods that guarded the Mountain's entrance.

His memory left him, his hair got greyed, his skin crumbled and all his memories disappeared, leaving small fragments that seemed to him more and more confused, like all the faces from the people around him and their voices, only faint whispers.

And the wind will rise up

To fill my sails

White sails accompanied him in his last adventure, sails that would take him beyond his conception of the world, in a land of immortal memory and existence. Where everything would be peace and joy, and his withered heart would finish to beat.

The salt on his hands became more and more intangible, the days were always the same, the memories now completely disappeared gave him no more joy, he often wondered where he was, with whom he was and who he was. He was, he is, he will be, it didn't matter anymore.

So you can doubt

And you can hate

And there it was, a warm light, rising from behind white ribs, it illuminated the marked wrinkles on his face, but like a dawn too late it did not illuminate the soul of Bilbo, who in that instant, as the bright horizons approached, collapsed.

Even that time his journey was not over, stuck halfway through again, unable to move between the past and the future. Fate had reserved for him one last mockery, the last disappointment,the last pain, the last loss.

The greyness of the shapes in front of him became darker and darker, the voices more and more feeble, the eyes heavier and heavier, while for the last time he leaned on Frodo's shoulder, tired, tired for the last time.

But I know

No matter what it takes

It was a moment, his eyes snapped open, a whiff of air made him jump slightly backwards, but something blocked him, a fence, a fence he knew well. He looked at his hand on it while it was resting on the wood: it was smooth and spotless, timeless.

He made his gaze fall even lower by lowering his neck, little golden cufflinks adorned the long red sleeves of his jacket, a green vest was wrapped around his chest. He took a breath: it could not be his, he was too old , too worn by time. He wasn’t understanding.

When he looked up, the Bag-end was in front of him, so real that he stood motionless looking at every tile, every stone on the pavement, up to the green roof that lay on it. The evening light illuminated the old round door, which was ajar. From under its doorway came out a warm light, as well as from the two small windows on its side.

Slowly he began to walk too amazed to be able to hold his weight, he climbed the small stone steps trembling slightly. His legs hadn't been this strong for a long time, his eyes distinguished colors and his mind was clear of past horrors and confusion. He approached the doorway stretching his hand towards the door, a faint voice and the sound of footsteps blocked his hand a few inches from it.

Those voices.

A sudden heat permeated his chest.

He reached out his hand towards the door and pushed it slightly, something told him there was no need to knock.

I'm coming home

I'm coming home

Tell the world I'm coming home

Bag-end was as he had left: his armchair by the fire, the documents scattered on the table were in disorder, his maps moved to one side of the table, while his huge book was resting on the desk. But there was something different. Slowly and trembling he approached towards the small corridor, there the voices were louder and louder.

Those voices, those words, those noises.

His eyes began to moisten as he slowly looked out towards the door of his kitchen and let a tear drop at the sight of its interior.

Let the rain

Wash away

All the pain of yesterday

"Mr. Baggins! You are here!"

Kili's head rose smiling from the back of the room, with a smile that would have lit up the whole room if it had been possible. Twelve dwarves were around the table of his dining room, plates scattered along its entire length, full and overflowing beer mugs, stains on the walls and food scattered all over the floor.

"You ruined the surprise, I told you what we had to do, brother!"

Fili grabbed Kili's jacket and pulled him slightly down to his seat.

"Bilbo! You finally made it!" Bofur got up smiling from close to the door and looked out from it, the funny hat was swinging on his head while talking. "We were wondering where you were. I'm only sorry that Bombur snuck into the pantry, there wasn't much left, but Dori managed to prepare something". He nodded inhaling a bit from his brown pipe.

"Something that isn't soup!" Fili shouted in the back of the room laughing and raising his beer mug high to the ceiling.

"And he's also right, do you have any idea how long we've waited?" Grumbled Dwalin sitting by the door with his hands crossed at the chest "We were getting old here!”

"Dwalin don't be rude, Mr. Bilbo must have had his work to do." Dori scolded him, arranging the last dishes meticulously and placing a big pot around the table.

"We-we have kept everything in order! Mr. Bilbo!" Said Ori extending his head beyond Nori who was holding an arm around his shoulders, nodding looking directly to him.

"I, however, Bilbo, borrowed some of your pipe weed, I hope you don't mind".

"Sure, who knows who smoked it all, everyone here is good with other people's things." Glòin grumbles, sitting better on the chest. "Here, if it weren't for m,e you would all still have broken pipes, I invest well in Durins name!” He grumbled but that thing only made Bilbo smile even more and all of sudden he allowed a silent tear to come out, rolling down on his cheek, looking all the dwarves one by one while his hands started to shake.

I know my kingdom awaits

And they've forgiven my mistakes

It wasn't possible, it couldn't be, they were there for real, it wasn't a daydream, they were there. He remained silent while everyone was staring at him, some of them anxious while others with a slight smile on their lips.

"Y-you're here." He whispered and let a sob come out of his chest, causing Balin to worry, who came up from his seat and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright laddie?" He didn't answer, he looked at him and continued to let the salty drops fall on his cheeks. Bilbo nodded quickly and wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve, but they did not stop pressing his eyes insistently.

"Sorry, I-I...I've been busy." He said among the tears, pulling up his nose. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything." He cried as he looked at them in the face again and a sad smile was painted on everyone's face but their gaze changed when their eyes moved to something behind his shoulders.

"You made it in the end master burglar." A deep sudden voice made his heart stop, or made it start again, he could not say for sure. He only knew that when he turned to look behind him, the tears stopped suddenly. There had not been a day when that voice did not echo in his head, when that look did not haunt him, when his blood did not stain his clothes.

Two blue eyes looked at him, kindly, a small smile appeared on the face of the dwarf with long raven hair greyed by time.

"Welcome home Bilbo."

I'm coming home

I'm coming home

Tell the world I'm coming

Home

[gureishi]

Here’s a lil nighttime drabble about my CMC! I don’t post much OC content here, but I’ve been working on her recently, and I thought I’d share a little snippet~

Here’s some basic info about her!

Eunji is my CMC for Saeyoung. She’s half-Korean, half-white, with a Korean father and an American mother. She grew up in Seoul; her parents split up when she was 14 and she moved to New York with her mother—she’s lived there ever since. As a teenager, she mostly fended for herself, as her mother was busy and distant. In the OS timeline, she’s 25 (Korean)/24 (International); she’s a dancer, and a few weeks prior to getting the text from Unknown, she’s lost her job, gotten kicked out of her dance company, and broken up with her long-term girlfriend. Feeling like she no longer belonged anywhere, she got on a plane to Seoul, where she’s been desperately trying to piece together her fragmented life.

The characters mentioned by name in this drabble are Kate (her girlfriend from New York, with whom she’s just broken up) and Min (her first love from Seoul, whose couch she’s been sleeping on while she searches her hometown for a sense of direction).

(cw: alcohol)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The later it gets, the louder it is here.

Eunji taps her fingers against the bar. Her hands feel sticky—so does the stool she’s sitting on. Even the air in here feels damp, sweaty with the scent of stale beer

Pop music that’s a few years old blares over the speakers. She bobs her head, against her will, to the rhythm of the music: these songs stir up memories that make her heart feel cut wide open. Time swirls around her, cascading in waterfalls and rippling pools: it feels like yesterday that she was living here—just down the street, in the big apartment with the willow trees out front. This morning, though—waking up on the lumpy couch of somebody she wishes she could’ve forgotten entirely—seems like it was years ago (or perhaps like it happened to another person entirely).

The bartender—a moderately attractive guy around her age with long eyelashes and a backwards baseball cap—props his elbows on the sticky surface in front of her, taking her by surprise. Her thoughts are heavy, sluggish; she’s feels like she’s barely living in her own body.

“Another?” he asks, tapping the counter beside her half-empty glass. She raises her eyebrows.

On the one hand: she knows better. She’s got all her belongings in an annoyingly large backpack propped at her feet (probably permanently stuck to the beer-soaked floor by now); she probably has more important things to do than sit here all night.

And yet—does she?

Because, on the other hand, the bartender is gazing at her with a hungry look that she recognizes; and it would be too easy to give in: get drunk in this loud, miserable bar, make doe eyes at the poor boy till he gives her someplace to stay for the night.

She runs a finger around the rim of the glass, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Maybe later,” she tells him.

He winks at her as he backs away: his cards are on the table.

A couple appears behind her, takes the stools to her left. They are speaking in loud voices—they’re drunk, and handsy. Eunji sighs heavily, letting her head sink down onto her folded arms.

In moments like these, she often feels she can envision every choice she’s made that’s led her here; when she’s the most lost, her weary mind reminds her of all the things she could’ve (should’ve) done differently. She sees herself on the plane: arms crossed, music pounding too loud through her headphones as she refuses to watch the New York skyline fading away in the distance—staring resolutely into the bleak, grey seat back in front of her, swearing off her old life with the force she’d used to throw her key onto Kate’s counter, not bothering to catch it as it bounced to the floor with a resounding clatter.

She sees herself, too, frantically texting from the airport: running through the roster of old friends, most of whom she hadn’t spoken to for years; she’s not great at staying in touch, and she knows better than to try and apologize.

“Back in Seoul for a little bit!” she’d written, again and again. “What are you up to?”

She sees herself in Min’s apartment, hiding in the bathroom with the shower running till he went to sleep—just in case he wanted to try and talk or re-connect or, worse, touch.

She sees herself yelling at him, her muscles feeling like they’ve been set on fire, burnt to ashes. She pictures herself storming out—running away yet again, another key left on a counter, another lingering admonishment ringing in the hollow air behind her.

Her phone, face up on the counter before her, lights up. She grabs it too fast, loathing herself for her impatience; it’s him, of course.

“Come back,” he writes. “Let’s talk about it.”

Her stomach turns. She flips her phone over.

“Hey, babe.” The bartender is back, tilting his head to the side, giving her what he probably thinks is an all-knowing look. She rolls her eyes.

“Can I help you?”

He’s unfazed—she’ll give him that. Trick of the trade.

“Rough night, huh?” he asks; god, and it’s cliche. She wants to throw her drink in his face, just so she can say she’s done it.

Instead, she bats her eyelashes at him (not ready to let her one chance at a bed to sleep in slip through her fingers).

“I’ve had better days,” she admits.

“You’ve got an accent,” he tells her, and she feels her cheeks flushing—she knows this, is painfully conscious that the ten years she’s spent out of the country have made her sound like a foreigner. This is my home, she wants to scream.

“I’m from New York,” she says instead.

“A tourist, huh?” he teases. She pulls her arms from the bar, clenches her fists in her lap. Oh, she hates him, she decides—so much for a place to stay.

“I grew up here,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “So, not exactly.”

Something in her expression frightens him—she can see it. He gives her a halfhearted smile as he slips away, ducking behind the bar. Just as she’s about to dig some cash out of the (rapidly dwindling) wad at the bottom of her bag and throw it on the counter, her phone buzzes again. She groans; she can feel the eyes of the couple beside her; the man whispers something in the woman’s ear and she giggles. 

And no matter how hard she runs, she doesn’t seem to be able to get away.

It’s all swirling in her mind: Kate’s face and Min’s voice and the roar of the plane; her mother’s back as she mutters that Eunji is far too old to let her life fall apart like this again; the endless job postings; the stale, dry air in her and Kate’s apartment back home.

Home.

She finishes her drink.

With a shaky hand, she flips over her phone, ready to tell him “No,” or “Leave me alone,” or “I’ve got a new place to stay, thanks”—knowing he’ll see through the lie, feeling, already, the familiar racing sensation somewhere behind her lungs that says keep running.

It’s not him.

There’s a notification on her screen from an app she’s never seen before; impatiently tucking her unruly hair behind her ear, she swipes up.

Strange code scrolls across the screen; she almost sets her phone back down in a huff—just her luck, to have accidentally downloaded some sort of scam app. A message appears; her mind feels hazy, thoughts a beat behind her racing heart.

Feeling a little dizzy, she squints at the screen, head throbbing as the nostalgic music fills up her overwrought mind.

Username Unknown says Hello…?

Eunji’s fingers tap an erratic rhythm against the sticky bar. It’s too loud in here—too quiet inside her wretched heart.

She answers.

[carolofdanvers]

𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - nomad steve rogers x sw! reader

steve rogers is not usually the guy to seek out a stranger for relief, but after going into hiding post-avengers-breakup in amsterdam, the sultry red glow emitting from the neon signs in the red light’s district seem more and more tempting each passing night.

( warnings: nsfw, rough, sex work, descriptive smut, slight dom x sub undertones, dark! nomad steve, angsty, oral sex (male recieving), etc. )

Word Count: approx. 4.9k

this is my first one shot, my apologies for making it so long! i got a little carried away. tbh i’m thinking about turning it into a series if people like it enough, i think theres room to explore things here but for now just enjoy! i’d love some feedback if you have any! happy reading!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

To say that Steve Rogers was exhausted would be an understatement. After the fight that broke out in Germany, where friends became enemies and enemies became friends, the blonde super soldier had lost track of time. Although the memories seared through his mind like a surgeons cautery pen as if they were yesterday, the image of Tony in a rage and taking hit after hit, Bucky going under cryo in Wakanda, it had been almost a year. It was hard to believe it; the burner phone weighed heavily in his pocket with no calls or text from his former friend and wealthy fellow avenger. But, in the time he had been on the run, Amsterdam had been the most recent place to call a temporary home. He had stayed in places not so pleasant, like the little motels all across Russia as he backpacked further west into Europe, never really staying in any place for long. He was overly cautious; the man had lost faith in most forms of authority, which rang with such a strong sense of irony considering he was at one point the epitome of a law abiding citizen. Poor pre-serum Steve wouldn't know what to think of the man he had become; bitter, closed off, easily agitated, irritable, and even a bit cruel. He hated the world that had suddenly hated him, the world he found himself wishing he had never woken up into. Steve had become so unbearable that he and sam had split ways for a while, promising to reconvene in London should it be necessary. But now, Steve was on his own, staring out the window of his hotel room that had the perfect view of the canals that swirled like ink, and the bridge that lead right into the ever so alluring Red Light District.

During the day, the Red Light District was rather inconspicuous, perhaps slightly less attractive than the rest of the city, if anything at all. The bricks aligned in a herringbone pattern practically guided you past window after window of beautiful women, quite literally anyone you imagined. The closer you get to the area, the louder the buzzing of neon gets. The bars are usually pretty empty during the day, a few stray women, presumably escorts, looking to pick up an alcoholic or two having a drink at noon. Steve often found himself in these bars, but only during the day to find a place away from the tourist infested hotel and his sad, tiny hotel room. He never got anything to drink besides water, since alcohol metabolized far too quickly in his body to have any affect on him anyways. It was times like these that he missed Thor’s Asgardian brews, the only alcohol he had ever tried that made him feel something, any kind of buzz. But alas, he stuck to water in the dimly lit, smokey bars with sunlight seeping in through the above-ground windows.

The women of the Red Light District never tempted him, at least during the day. Steve had never found the appeal in casual sex. Yes, he was a man with desires and wants and needs, but part of him was too unbothered to try anything. He had Sharon, at one point in time, early on in his fugitive life, but they had since parted ways for the same reason he and Sam parted ways. The man was far too distant to really feel anything, but there was something about this place at night that drew him in more than he wanted to admit. Was it the otherworldly red glow that caught his eye? Or rather the shadows of women dancing in the windows, that same sensual red caressing their skin, barely dressed and jewels adorning their skin and necklaces resting against collarbones and heels far too tall for day to day wear? Perhaps it was the EDM that pounded from the many clubs, or maybe there was something else he couldn’t explain, a primal nature in him that drove him to near madness when he lay in bed trying to sleep, the soft red glow haunting him through the thin curtains covering the sliding door to a balcony. Sometimes, Steve would sit out there, watching the wonderland from afar, scratching his beard as he contemplated venturing into the maw of the beast. He never gave in, knowing the risk of being caught was serving time for treason at best.

But this particular night, Steve was insatiable. His own hands couldn’t possibly satisfy the craving that couldn’t be satisfied, the itch that just couldn’t be scratched. He was usually relatively satisfied after a few minutes, his hand wrapped around the thick veiny shaft of his cock and leaning against the headboard of his bed as he swiftly sent himself over the edge. But tonight was something else entirely. He had gone at it three or four times, his bare and sculpted chest glistening with sweat and his lower half slick with his cum. It didn’t help that his neighbor in the suite next door must have brought home a girl, because between the pounding of the headboard against the wall and the fake moans the poor girl had to emit was obnoxious, Steve couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He put on a few layers, as it was starting to get a little chilly in the city, as well as a hat to hide his face behind, and ventured out into the belly of the beast. He wandered for a while, keeping his head low for a while, until he realized how the red lights drowned out most features. his hat cast a deep shadow over his face, his hands shoved in his pockets as he finally lift his head to look up at the scantily clad women in the windows, waving at passerby after passerby. A few spotted him and fear coursed through his veins, but they didn’t recognize him, only thought he was handsome enough to warrant their attention. but he wasn’t drawn to any of them, not like he was drawn to you.

You were something else entirely. Although you were tucked away towards the end of the rows of windows, your presence was enthralling. He moved closer to the window as if you were a siren and he was lured to you by your song. You hadn���t spotted him yet, dressed in what was more of a burlesque showgirl kind of costume, almost pinup style. The crystals upon your leather bra reflected the haunting neon lights into fragments of color, bouncing around and catching the eye, although your perky breasts were just another set of eye catchers. Steve felt his cock twitch beneath the denim of his jeans, cursing his quick recovery speed considering he had left his hotel almost immediately after his fourth orgasm of the night. The super soldier took off his hat and ran his hands through his long hair to disturb it, never once taking his eyes off of you. you had finally spotted him at this point, noticing the handsome figure now smirking at you as you made eye contact. His stunning blues still managed to shine underneath the red light and something about that carnal look behind them made you forget any other potential customer besides him. you moved coyly, turning around to play shy and peeking over your shoulder, but turning around exposed your plump bum and swaying your hips only accentuated such a feature. You checked again to see if he was still watching, which he was, though a smirk was ever so present beneath his thick beard. Your mouth began to water at the imaginary feeling of his beard between your legs, the coarse hair tickling your inner thighs. This is what sent you over the edge, lifting your hand and summoning him with a single finger, your long nails accentuating the movement. Steve hesitated for a moment, looking over both shoulders, before moving towards the door. 

Steve had never solicited anyone before. He had never really had one night stands, let alone payed anyone for sex. He was that kind of guy who wanted chemistry and a relationship between him and his partner, as cheesy as that sounded. He may still be adjusting to the modern world but it didn’t matter when he woke up from being under ice, he would have always felt that way. But he sure as hell felt chemistry between you and him. He entered the room just as you were closing the curtains, standing in the doorway as he took in the layout of the very small room. Where you stood was the giant window that you lured customers through, the lights that once shone through the window were now blocked by thick curtains and that very same red light that haunted his every filthy thought flooded the room. It was tiny, a small bed a little larger than a twin was pressed against the wall, with a sink directly across. It was clean, plainly decorated, but clean. He assumed that every room looked like this. Steve finally got a closer look at you as you stood there staring at him, your painted lips curved into a teasing smile. He noticed that bit of mischief was prevalent in you; he could see it in your eyes, your expressive brows, your hands that wandered your own body to tease him, and god, was it working.

"You're new here." you said, moving in to place your hand's on his broad shoulders beneath his heavy canvas coat, letting them slide down to his chest and slowly unzip. Normally, you'd ask for your payment ahead of time, but this man seemed like he was going to be payment enough. "I've never seen you around, neither have the other girls. Otherwise there would have been plenty of talk. It's not often we get handsome strangers like you in all to ourselves."

Steve was mildly surprised to hear english, tensing up as he felt you unzip his coat, but he couldn't help but let you. Your accent didn't sound like the natives of Amsterdam, making him more and more curious about you. Every new thing he learned about you made him crave you even more, and though he was holding back, he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore.

"Your accent. It isn't Dutch." he was curt, his words getting to the point and it only made you wonder if he would be this harsh and unrefined with your body, something you had been craving from a beautiful man like him.

"It isn't." You pushed his coat off his shoulders to reveal a white t shirt that looked a few sizes too small considering his bulging muscles. The sleeves look like they'd burst any moment. "Would you like it to be?" You purred, arms wrapping around his neck and playing with his long hair, hair that hadn't seen a barber in far too long. "I can be a sweet little girl from London, or perhaps a feisty American woman, or a seductive French Woman fresh from Paris," You mimicked every accent with uncanny precision, leaving the blonde man unsettled and impressed. There was more to you than meets the eye, apparently. Steve was tense as he felt you get even closer, the heat from your bare body enough to make him feel that desire come back full force, blood rushing to his lower abdomen and feeling himself get warm as his large hands finally found their place at your waist, that mischievous smirk growing upon your red lips. "I can be anyone you want me to be." you tugged at his hair playfully.

"To be frank, I don't care. Just be you." he pulled you in roughly, body to body, face only inches from each other. A silent agreement was made between the two of you; this was really going to happen. Your lips collided into a heated kiss. Steve had never felt so sexually attracted to someone in his life without really knowing them. Perhaps that was the appeal, the idea that he had no idea who you were, only that you were willing to do almost anything and be anyone he asked for some euros. He pulled away from the kiss, the two of you now panting as you tugged at the hem of his shirt and helped him lift it up over his head, revealing one hell of a body. What was a man like him doing in Amsterdam alone? Was he single or was he filling the void of a lacking lover with prostitutes in the window brothels? You did not have time to dwell upon those thoughts any longer as his lips found your neck, his arms wrapped around you from behind as you let out little mewls of pleasure. His scratchy beard sent shivers down your spine, lips leaving little red splotches that would surely darken over time. His grip was strong, commanding, a little harsh, but you liked that.

"What can I call you?" you purred, pushing your hips back into his and finding that he had a large bulge that was only getting bigger by the moment. "How does that feel, Sir?" you tested, your hand reaching behind to touch his face while the other rest on top of one of his hands and guided it to your breast. "Do you like it, Master?" Still not a satisfactory reaction from the man you wished to seduce, although he continued to work at your neck and let out a soft groan as his large hand cupped at your breast still covered by the costume you wore. "If you want it, come and get it, Daddy." This was the name, you decided, noticing him freeze at the name before his grip got rougher and he was a little more reckless with you. Steve caught that mischievous look in your eyes again in the mirror and finally the man let go of all his inhibitions. He spun you around to face him before he kissed you again, sloppily and full of need as if you were his life force. His hands wandered your back, pulling you towards him and pressing your body against his chiseled one. the kiss was suffocating in the best way possible, one of his hands sliding up to your face, leaving a trail of goosebumps upon your skin. It settled at your neck, momentarily wrapping around it as if he threatened to tighten his grip, before pressing at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He grabbed fistfuls of your freshly done curls that reminded him of the show girls he toured with back in the forties. Everything about you screamed home to him, despite you being completely unaware of what home even was to him, despite him not even having a home anymore. You pulled away only to look him in those beautiful light eyes, the two of you basking in the deep red light that perfectly reflected the heavy heat of the room. Your hands swiftly moved to undo his belt and slide down his jeans that pooled down at his knees, leaving him in his briefs. The imprint of his bulge clearly showed how he yearned for you, his shaft wanting nothing more to escape its confine. you guided him to the little bed and had him lean against it while you wedged yourself between his legs. The way you looked up at him had him going wild, innocent eyes looking up at him through thick lashes as you palmed his cock through the thin fabric. You loved the way he looked down at you, the way his knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the bed too rough. He looked down at you with an intensity you rarely saw in a man as you hooked your thumbs into the elastic waistband and tugged down, his member springing out and standing at attention as his boxers joined his other clothing on the floor. Steve watched in awe as you left open mouth kisses on the veiny shaft, groaning upon the feeling of your soft lips where he craved you the most. You were shocked at how large he was, although you shouldn’t have been just by looking at him. You lifted the mattress to grab a condom wrapper, tearing it open and rolling it over his hard member. You, like all the other sex workers in the Red Light District, refused to not use a condom. It was common knowledge and Steve silently agreed to it. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable. His hands found their place in your hair again as your tongue dragged from the base to tip, flicking over the slit that leaked clear precum into the latex. Steve’s body reacted more than he would have liked, involuntarily tensing. A low growl rumbled in his chest as you finally began to take him into your mouth, little by little as your hands with manicured nails wrapped around the shaft. He watched you as you began to bob your head, groans of pleasure escaping him. You looked so beautiful to him, unearthly and sinful with drool dribbling down your chin and watery eyes from taking his thick length into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in too long, unaware of how much he had been craving physical intimacy. Watching you move was enough to make him explode right then and there, but he held it back, the coil in his lower abdomen tightening up as he threatened to orgasm.

"Yeah, that's right, doll, take it." he moaned, really getting into things now. You looked up to see his eyes shut and head tossed back. His neck was tense and jaw clenched. He was already close to an orgasm, which was unsurprising to a woman in your field, however you didn't want the fun to end so soon. Your hands moved away from his cock and you braced yourself on either of his thighs as you began to deepthroat him, taking all seven inches down. Suppressing your gag reflex was easy enough, although your jaw ached from his girth. He let out a guttural moan, one he couldn't hold back like the others as your lips closed around him and bottomed out down your throat. He pulled on your hair, the pleasure too overwhelming, but you refused to let him give in. You pulled away with a gasp, strings of saliva connected from his cock to your lips as you breathed heavily and your hands moved at the pace your head had bobbed.

"Does Daddy like it? Does it make him wanna bust? Come on, Daddy-" Steve had enough of the taunting. He lift your chin up so he could look at you, a proper mess with smeared lip stick and drool, wiping it away with his thumb.

"You drive me insane." was all he said before he scooped you up and placed you on the bed. He kicked off his clothes that pooled around his ankles and swiftly undid your own bra, your nipples hardening to the cool air as Steve hovered over you. Once again, his lips found their place at your neck, admiring his marks that had now deepened and went over them again, but unsuspecting you had been so consumed with the feeling of his lips on your neck and trailing down that you hadn't noticed his hand slip away from your waist and slipped beneath the fabric of your lacy promiscuous bottoms. Your eyes, which had previously been shut as you enjoyed his lips on your neck, flew open as you gasped, back arching up towards his hovering body upon feeling his fingers slide between your slick folds. Steve wanted nothing more than to slide into you right then and there upon hearing that beautiful sigh escape you. His cock twitched in need as his lips trailed further down, nibbling on your collarbones and leaving breathy, open mouth kisses until taking the delicate rosebud of your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently while a finger skillfully slid inside you. Your moans were symphonic, like beautiful song, although he knew they weren't faked like the neighbor's girl, her sing-songy moans that annoyed him to no end. He was genuinely pleasing her, and he loved it. You grew wetter by the second, the feeling of his finger, and then fingers inside of you, his lips leaving marks all over your breasts, you weren't sure how much longer you could last. And there was another moment of silent communication, as Steve pulled away, sliding his middle and ring finger out of her and placing them to her lips. "Be a good girl and clean them up." he demanded, groaning as you parted your lips and sucked his fingers clean, tongue swirling around them sensually. His cock twitched at the feeling before pouncing, pinning you down and kissing you feverishly and you reciprocating once more. His hands slid down your body to remove what little clothing was still on you, leaving the two of you bare. Your taste on your tongue was intoxicating, and if he had more time and more patience he would have savored it and perhaps gone down on you, but he was impatient and needed you. Steve's eyes met yours as he lined himself up with you and slid in, the two of you erupting into moans neither of you could hold back. It had been almost a year since the last time Steve had had sex, but you didn't have that excuse. Your moans shocked you. Steve shocked you. You had sex all into the night, every single night, several men leaving this very room and yet none of them felt the way Steve did inside of you. You were unsure of whether or not it was because of how attracted to each other you both were or if he was simply that large (or perhaps it was both), but as he bottomed out inside of you, your nails dug into his broad shoulders and he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You shut your eyes tight, seeing stars from the sheer pleasure of it all, but slowly it began to fade, to which Steve took as a sign to begin to move. He pinned your arms over your head as he pulled almost all the way out, smirking as he slammed back into you. It felt intense as he reached spots few other men had over reached, proving himself superior with every roll of his hips. Steve found satisfaction in the way your face morphed, eyes squeezing shut and nose scrunching before lips parted and formed a perfect "o" shape, letting out another moan that was like music to his ears. It spurred him on, encouraging him to keep going. "You like that, baby?" he asked, although you were so consumed by the pleasure that only incoherent mumbles could escape your lips. Steve wasn't satisfied by this. "Use your words, dollface or else Daddy won't let you cum. Tell me how much you love how I fuck you." He demanded, really getting into it as he picked up the pace, grunting softly as your tight walls gripped him like no other. You were a desperate mess at this point, eyes wild and filled with arousal and fear as the sounds of sex filled the air, skin to skin contact and the faint thumping of EDM from a nearby club. The unmistakable smell of it consumed your mind, unable to form a single proper thought and fully enveloped in this electrifying sense of primal desire. Your body felt hot, a thin sheen of sweat glistening upon your skin like diamonds, your baby hair starting to stick to your forehead from the pleasure of it all. You could feel yourself reaching your climax but you knew he'd deny you of that thing you chased if you didn't talk, if you didn't beg for it. "God, I love how you fuck me, Daddy. You're so big inside of me, you fill me up so good-" You were interrupted by a moan that escaped you involuntarily as he purposely rolled his hips deep into you. You were dangerously close and Steve could feel it too, the way you clenched around him, the way your body rolled like the tides beneath him. He needed to orgasm, but he refused until he heard you beg. "Beg for me, baby girl." He demanded, now thrusting at an ungodly speed. You weren't sure how any human could move like this, but you had no idea who he was, really. You had no idea that he wasn't some average human, you could only assume he was just some guy with extraordinary skills. Steve let go of your hands to get better leverage over you, and your hands flew to his back. "Please Daddy, let me cum," you begged, nails digging into his skin and leaving claw marks upon his flesh to serve as a reminder later when he showered that this was not a dream. "I love how good you fuck me, no other man can possibly compare to you. I love your big cock inside of me, it makes me feel so good. Please daddy, I'm begging you, let your baby girl cum-" You were interrupted by his hand reaching down to find your clit and begin circling it with his fingers, nearly sending you over the edge. But it wasn't his skillful fingers or his thrusting that got you to your peak, but his words, his command that brought you to your orgasm. "Cum for me, doll." Four simple words made you cum, an explosive orgasm that reminded you of the birth of a star. Pleasure ripped through you like white hot lightning and rippled out to your fingers and toes and left you feeling like you were made of stardust and nothing more. You hadn't even realized how loud you were moaning because you were so consumed with the immense pleasure he brought you. Your toes curled and eyes shut tight, head tossed back, shaking violently as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and deeper inside of you. Steve was close, himself, but you pulling him in deeper and deeper with your strong legs around his waist sent him over the edge. He wanted to admire the beauty that was you as you orgasmed, but he could hardly focused as you had tightened around him and an orgasm was imminent. He thrust into you once, twice, and three more times before he came as well, spilling into the condom wrapped around his shaft. He let out a guttural moan in your ear, his own eyes shut tight. The two of you slowly fell from your highs together, panting heavily. Steve's warm breath tickled your neck as he peppered kisses upon your skin again, softening inside of you. It took a moment for you to recover, as it did for Steve, but he seemed eager to leave. You were a bit disappointed as he got up so soon and threw away the used condom, sighing as he was finally satisfied. for now. "How much do I owe you?" he asked as he started to get dressed again, the jingling of his belt filling the heavy silence in the room. You looked at him, languidly propped up on the bed, staring at him like he was a god. "Nothing." you said after a moment of silence. he paused and looked at you, pushing back his long hair and suppressing a smile. "I've never had sex like that before, you must've been angry for a very long time." You teased, grabbing your robe and wrapping yourself up. You grabbed your cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke out between your smudged lips. He scoffed and shook his head, putting his t shirt back on. "Yeah. I guess you could say that." His voice was low, gravelly and quiet, as if that were a loaded statement. If only he could tell you of his troubles, the tales of glory and triumphs...and losses. He had walked in with slumped shoulders and his guard up, but now you noticed his posture had straightened and he seemed a little lighter on his feet. That alone was enough payment. It amused you. You stared at the wallpaper for a moment as he slipped on his hat and began to push the door open. "Can I be expecting you again?" you asked, trying not to let the hopefulness seep into your words. He looked down at his shoes before looking up at you, your curls all distressed, smeared lipstick, blowing smoke out into the air as you leaned against the bed they had fucked on only moments ago. You were otherworldly, and though sometimes it was hard for you to see yourself as even human, he thought the world of you. Brave enough to let strange men fuck you, enter the most vulnerable state a human can be. He admired that about you. "I don't know," was all he could say. You looked at him and nodded, taking a drag from your cigarette and sighing, smoke exiting your body through your nose. Looking down at your bare feet, you pursed your lips. "Well, you know where to find me." You told him. He took one last look at you before he nodded respectfully, leaving without another word. And with that, he disappeared like a ghost.

[kosmosguk]

Deceptively Angelic (Yandere! Angel Taehyung x Reader) [M]

Description: There’s something darker about the strange man that you’ve wondered upon and let into your home. But you’re convinced he’s an angel, a celestial being from heaven, and everyone knows angels can’t sin.

Writing: Smut Fic

Word Count: 2.5K

[Warning: Yandere Themes. Smut. Read at your own disclosure. Literally an excuse for me to throw in that good good stuff tbh. Also,, this is my first time writing smut oop] 

Taehyung was the epitome of perfection.

He was gorgeous, beautiful in even the simplest of garments, and each of his features, from the soft slope of his nose to the plush rosiness of his lips, was certainly carved by heaven Itself.

He had told you that he was an angel, sent down here to fight off the demon that had been planning on harassing your village, and he was so ethereal that he must’ve been right. Angels can’t lie after all.

He was ethereal, even when you found him on the damp muddy forest floor, limp and bruised in the bloodiest manner. He had looked at you, a mere village girl clutching onto a woven basked filled with flowers, with those deep pools of rich honey filled with so much pain. Who were you to ever refuse the pain of an angel? You carelessly took him in right then are, resolutely deciding that you would heal him. 

After all, he was a man--no an angel for goodness sake--who was so beautiful and kind-looking; what was he going to do to or with a simple, plain orphan who made a profit over selling flower bouquets. 

The answer was nothing. Or at least, it should’ve been nothing.

And it was nothing for a long time. You spent your free time tending his wounds in the cramped hut you called a home, and he, in return, kept your home clean and cooked lavishly warm, steaming dishes, ones you’d never even had the privilege of experiencing, with a flick of his long, elegantly-formed fingers. It was a peaceful relationship, a mutual one of respect and quiet compassion for the other’s presence.

You were grateful for his presence, even a little grateful for the damned demonic being that hurt him. You were so lonely, with no family tending after you, and he was warm and kind.

So it should’ve been nothing. And then it became something.

You had been plucking flowers, delicate blooms of peachy pinks and sky blues, for a bouquet you had been wanting to gift Taehyung. Tucking in the soft, delicate petals of a pure white rose, ones that must’ve been the exact shade of his wings, you hummed to yourself in delight. Taehyung would love these.

You heard footsteps crumbling leaves and scuffling stones from behind you as you straightened your back, spinning around dramatically to unhand the suspect.

‘‘Kim Seokjin?!’‘

You exhaled the words out sharply in a gust of disbelief, your eyes blown wide at the presence of the tall broad-shouldered gem of your tiny village.

Kim Seokjin was much too handsome to be the son of an artisan, with his looks straight from the prince in a fairy tale book and his pretty heart-shaped lips, and he was also much too handsome to be talking to you.

He was one of the wealthiest, and he had everything together, not like you who was surviving with each coin you could get.

His cheeks flushed a cute cherry red, his ears blazing the same shade, and averted his eyes almost shyly for a second before returning your gaze with a steady, determined look.

‘‘(Y/N), I’ve always noticed you,’‘ he started slow, his voice almost cracking from his nerves,’‘ Your smile leaves me breathless, and you’re as kind as you are beautiful. And I want to ask you for your hand in marriage.’‘

Your smile froze on your face, paralyzed from the rush of surprise that overcame you. 

What? What did he just say?

He let out a nervous laugh, something so unlike the most confident man in the village, before turning around and rushing away.

‘‘Please let me know your answer! I’ll be meeting your here tomorrow, same time!’‘ he called out from behind his shoulder, scurrying away like a boy caught sneaking away a pastry. You couldn’t move, feeling the rush of heat overpowering your cheeks, and you let out a shaky wispy exhale. 

You liked Seokjin--he was kind and always bought bouquets from you--and if you married him life would be much easier. You’d get to wear dresses and not have to worry about the next meal ever again.

Also, he was handsome, almost as handsome as the angel you had presiding in your home.

If the actual angel you had at home noticed the high of elation you were on, he didn’t comment it. You had placed the bouquet in his arms, a beaming smile instead of the usual bashful curve of your lips, and even gave him a soft pat on the top of his head. You softly sang under your breath as you took down the laundry, grinning foolishly as you folded the clothes. 

It wasn’t until you both had sat down at the small rickety table, dishes filled with still simmering hot spicy stew and steaming bowls of rice between the both of you, that he had said something.

Blowing on a spoon of rice, he pursed his lips and glanced up at you from underneath thick, long lashes,’’ Your mood...It seems better today.’’

Your grin grew even more and you exhaled a wistful dreamy sigh,’’ Taehyung, you know how a few days ago you were worried about how I was going to do after you had to go back to your heavenly duties?’’

Taehyung stayed silent, his eyes steady on you, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the spoon tightly. 

You ignored his silence, leaning forward slightly and almost knocking over your bowl of rice with your elbow,’’ Kim Seokjin, the son of the local artisans, asked for my hand in marriage! I was picking flowers nearby and he came up to ask me. Me, especially with all the better girls in the village! I’m going to say yes tomorrow night.’’

Snap!

The metal spoon broke in two pieces, the fragments clanging onto the table loudly.

‘‘Are you okay?’‘ you gasped, leaning forward to grasp at his hand.

He smiled, though something about it seemed off, sinister. You were too happy to focus on the what ifs of it, glued to your thoughts. After all, he was an angel; he couldn’t be sinister.

You spent the night and the next day, right up until the very second, stuck in your blissful state of mind. The sun seemed brighter, the birds’ song more beautiful than ever, and even the dirt that caked your fingers seemed enchanting. 

You were so happy that something could’ve gone completely horrible and you would beam. And then something did go completely horrible, and it was almost ironic that you thought that before because your smile, eventually, did fade. 

It had been two hours since you were supposed to meet with Seokjin. The warmth of the day faded into a chill, the sky darkening as you huddled by the meeting spot, trying to protect your body from the harsh wind.

You heard footsteps, feet crunching the crisp leaves, from behind you. 

‘‘Seokjin? Where have y-?’‘ you began to ask, turning around,’’ Taehyung?’’

Taehyung stood there, his hair wispy and messy but still beautiful nonetheless, but there was something different about him. Maybe his eyes, the way they were hooded and dark and oh so scary. Maybe his clothes, the way that the fabric seemed dark even with the dim lighting of the night. But he was still your Taehyung, right?

‘‘I was worried about where you were, so I remembered what you said yesterday and,’‘ his voice was cut off from you flinging yourself into his arms, sobbing into the fabric of his clothes.

‘‘He didn’t even show up. I must look like a fool right now, waiting for him. He was too good for me anyways and I was foolish and thought maybe-,’‘ you were cut off by the firmness but softness of his lips against yours. It was hot, steamy, and your noses brushed against each other as your hands went into his hair.

‘‘Never say that. He’s a fool for thinking he was even worth you,’‘ Taehyung’s voice was breathless as you both panted, gulping in swallows of the night air.

You sunk into his embrace, the only reply being as you kissed him against, this time even sloppier and more heated.

You don’t exactly remember how you got home, but all you could focus on was pulling off Taehyung’s clothes and your own.

‘‘Taehyung, Taehyung, Taeh-,’‘ your cries were cut off with a lengthy high-pitched moan as he pinned you onto your bed, sucking marks into your soft skin as his hand traveled further down, moving your undergarments aside as he sunk a thick finger inside you.

‘‘You’re so fucking hot. I can’t even resist you,’‘ he breathed, his eyes lidded as he pumped his finger in and out, adding another finger and then another, and watched you thrash on the bed, desperate for his touch.

Taehyung was an angel. Angels weren’t supposed to sin. But you didn’t care, not when he was rubbing his fingers against that rough part in your walls and the way his other hand came to circle your swollen clit over and over until you clenched your eyes shut and came, messy and hot, over his fingers with a mewl.

He sucked on his fingers, enjoying the sweet, musky taste of you, and you swallowed heavily at how sinful he looked savoring your essence.

Your cheeks flushed a pretty red, blooming like the red petals of a rose, as he tugged your undergarments and pulled down his, exposing a length that was certainly, though you had never seen one before, the best on earth.

He looked into your eyes, his hands toying with your clit softly as you whimpered at the overstimulation, your voice coming out in beautiful-sounding pleas,’’ Please, Taehyung, fuck me already. God I want your dick so badly mmh-!’’

Your begs were cut off by him sinking into your wet, hot folds.

He reeled over at the sensation, a loud groan puncturing the air,’’ You’re so wet and tight and fuck- You’re going to make me cum so quickly.’’

You pulled him even closer to you as he let you adjust, your walls nervously fluttering around his dick in such a heavenly way that made it even harder to hold back. You nodded, your eyes shy, as you got used to the uncomfortable, albeit a little painful sensation. 

‘’Please, fuck me,’’ your voice was meek, and God did you even know what you were doing to him.

It took him everything to not completely ravage you right then and there. He pulled out until the tip was in you before thrusting back in, testing how much you could handle.

‘‘Faster, faster,’‘ you begged as he continued thrusting. He slammed his length into you faster and faster, going even deeper if that was even possible. His dick kissed your cervix, and the way the burning in your stomach twisted made you tighten around his dick and pull out another heavy groan from his throat. You could only moan, trying to roll your hips up, though it was a bit clumsily, to get him deeper into you.

The coil in your stomach threatened to snap, burning hotter and hotter with each thrust at your womb, and your mewls grew even louder and breathier.

‘‘I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum!’’ you moaned out shakily as you peaked over your release. Your vision was a hot blur, and the fluttering of your hot, wet walls around him was too much to handle. He came with a breathy, deep exhale of your name, biting into the crook of your neck harshly and painting your walls in a burning white. 

 Feathered wings, the color of pitch black and the night sky instead of the pure white you had been expecting, ripped through the flesh of his back, protruding from his skin and hanging over you. Feathers rippled down around you in a drizzle, and his hair, the color of a soft pale blonde, darkened into an ink-black.

‘‘Taehyung,’‘ you breathed out, twitching around him in the midst of your recover,’‘ You’re- You’re a-.’’

‘‘Demon. I’m not the angel you thought I was,’‘ his eyes, the ones that used to be the shade of honeycombs, were red, crimson like a deep shade of blood.

‘‘Were you the demon that,’‘ you sucked in a breath to calm yourself,’‘ that was planning to come for the village?’’ 

He pulled out of you, though there was a slow hesitance and he cradled your form that began to tremble, fear gripping your heart in a cold deadlock.

He smiled--Taehyung’s smiles were always so warm, or at least the Taehyung you had believed in smiled like sunshine and crackling fires on cold days--coldly, menacing.

‘‘I was. The angel that was supposed to kill me put up a good fight. But then you came along and you were so pure and kind when you decided to take me in. No one had ever done that for me. Hell, though you believe it to be hot, is cold for the damned. How was I not going to fall for you, the you who was so sweet and soft and not deserved in this scum-filled world?’‘ his hand came up to stroke your cheek and you flinched.

His eyes darkened, and you didn’t know whether it was at your obvious fear or because of what he was going to say next.

‘‘But then that son of a bitch, Seokjin was it, came along and wanted to take you from me. So I did what I was supposed to as your caretaker, as your lover,’‘ his grip tightened around your cheek, his nails slightly digging into your skin,’‘ I killed him. I left you waiting there for a while to show you that you needed me. Not anyone else. Though, I guess it was a bit of a punishment for you thinking another could love you like I.’‘

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, and the heat that had been blazing in you chilled at the action. He was a demon; what were you going to do against him? You didn’t even have a chance.

‘‘But all is forgiven. I’ll take you back to my home. It gets so lonely there, even with the constant reminder of the damned around me. You’re my mate, I even marked you so,’‘ he traced a finger on the bite mark in your neck, grinning as you winced in pain,’‘ And now that we’re mated, you’ll be my loving wife, won’t you? The warmth in hell that’s all mine. You don’t even have a choice.’’

He pressed a soft kiss against your cheek, his wings wrapped around you loosely as you began to cry, the numbness of shock fading away. Dark hands bursted through the ground, gripping onto both you and him as they pulled and pulled you both right into hell.

As the darkness faded and the coldness sank in, you realized that maybe, maybe there was a reason that angels could fall down from heaven. That maybe angels could sin.

You just never thought you, a simple peasant girl in a small village, would be at the hands of that realization.

[zahra-kha]

Sing Me to Sleep

[This is the dream Zahra had the night after journal entry 6 that she can’t remember].

There was silence in the yurt. Gone were the familiar scents of home. The lingering sharpness of grass, mama’s garlic and other assortment of herbs hanging above their makeshift stove. The distant smoky scent of seasoned meat being cured in the smoke house. Even the soft but unpleasant scent of unwashed animals were being overpowered by the acrid and metallic tang of blood.

In the dimly lit room resided a larger than normal storage bin. A thick, heavy lock kept it closed. Goosebumps prickled her skin and ice ran down her spine as an annoying prickle at the back of her mind told her she knew what this was. What it symbolized.

Go ahead and open it.

Zahra took a few tentative steps forward, but nothing jumped out at her, only silence continued to greet her. The bin before her remained completely silent and for some reason she found that unsettling. Wrong.

♪Wait a second let me catch my breath Remind me how it feels to hear your voice...♪

She approaches the bin and kneels down, reaching for the lock. Despite how heavy it looks, upon closer inspection she realizes it’s old and rusted. Upon her touch the hook nearly crumbles to dust, leaving the rest to fall to the ground with a heavy thud. Zahra looks around and suddenly the yurt is empty. Gone is the stove, the bedding, the rugs that had decorated what had made their (who is they?) yurt feel like home. There’s only the walls and now this bin.

With trembling hands, Zahra reaches and lifts the wooden bin. The stench hits her before the sight of the child does. Urine, feces, and blood intermingled for a noxious combination slam her senses. Completely unprepared, she can’t fight back the urge to gag and turns away. Somehow, she manages to fight down the urge to empty the contents of her stomach and turn back to the bin. Blinking through the tears, her burning eyes catch onto a figure inside.

Knees pressed against their chest, the child could not be much older than four or five. A little xaela girl whose hair had once been cut in a beautiful pink bob was now dull, matted, and horribly tangled. She was covered in her own filth, likely unable to escape due to how small (no wait, hadn’t the bin been bigger earlier?) the bin was. Zahra could see one of the child’s hands and started - the fingernails had been ripped off and her fingers were raw and bloodied. Had she been...clawing at the inside?

Slowly, as if deliberately, the girl’s head rose and their gazes met. The silence turned into a deafening roar as Zahra’s heart pounded in her chest. She knew this child, she knew those eyes. Vibrant amethyst glowed with a heated wide-eyed stare that was filled with so much unbridled hatred and fury that it made her second guess herself. This was her, but it wasn’t...she’d never...seen herself like this. The child’s cracked lips parted, her hands clenched against her legs and Zahra wanted to - she wasn’t sure. Leave? Get away from this...child that looked like her but clearly wasn’t?

♪Your lips are moving I can’t hear a thing Livin’ life as if we had a choice...♪

A piece of the yurt became black. It was as if an entire strip of reality had been consumed by darkness. And while Zahra found it difficult to look at this...feral child, not once did the young girl’s gaze waver from the older version of herself.

<“....hate...me...”> the voice came in cracked and hoarse, as if she was no longer used to using it. And while it was clearly xaelic, for some reason Zahra could suddenly understand it. <”They hate me...”>

“What?” Immediately, Zahra fought back every instinct against approaching the young girl, be it from the stench or from the child’s intensity, and leaned in. “No, that’s not true. No one hates you.” with a shaky smile she reached in, lightly patting the girl’s matted hair. “No one could hate a cute little girl like you.”

Another sliver of the yurt was engulfed in darkness.

<”Mama locked me in here.”> the child’s voice trembled, she could hear the watery notes in her tone, but Zahra saw no tears. <”She told me to be quiet, and I was. I listened, and Mama never came. Papa never came. Jargal never came. Even when I cried and cried, kicked and screamed. Mama locked me in here. In the dark. They all hate me.”>

Why didn’t that feel right? Yet, she didn’t want to argue it. A powerful part of her didn’t want to argue this child’s logic.

They left me in the darkness.

Still, it broke her heart to see a child tormented. She tried to comfort the child, pushing back her hair. “I’m sure that’s not true. Let’s get you out of that bin, okay?”

<”NO!”> she slapped Zahra’s hand away, putting her hands over her horns. <”They hate me, they hate me! They left me here! I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HAT-”>

The moment their skin touched Zahra was assaulted with images, sensations, and emotions. Memories.

<”Let’s play a game, alright Odval? Can you do that for mama? I just need you to wait here and don’t make a sound. It’s very important. You’ve been so good so far, I’m so proud of you.”>

<”Sorry little sapphire, you can’t come with me. You have to stay here with mom and dad.”>

Images of a young xaela boy. Older than her, with rich red hair and piercing amethyst eyes. There’s a deep sense of love and affection. He dotes on the child. Another image of a woman, strong and loving, she gives little Odval kisses and tickles. They play games and she helps with house chores. She always tells Odval she’s a good girl and she’s proud of her.

But those images are frayed, torn and fragmented beyond repair. What remained and overpowered those memories was the gnawing of overwhelming hunger eating at a young child. The sensation of one’s tongue feeling as if it was swelling so much she could barely swallow. Flesh scraping against wood, cracking as nails shatter and break in futile efforts to escape. There is nothing but pain. Gnawing pain that tears at the insides, rips apart the mind, destroys all sense of rationality, until there is nothing left but rage and primal instinct.

♪Anywhere, anytime I would do anything for you Anything for you...♪

Zahra is snapped out of the child’s mind and brought back to herself. Trembling, her breaths come in great gasps of air. She reaches for her stomach but no, there’s no sensation of her stomach feeling as if it were about to collapse on itself. Her throat is fine, it doesn’t feel like parched sandpaper. And while she does feel dizzy, the sensation of darkness...

Of darkness....

The yurt is almost completely gone. There is only a small section remaining, a piece just behind the bin that leads to the outside. Everything around her is pitch black. Zahra fights down the rising panic threatening to grip her throat in a vice and focuses on the child. Her memories, their memories, this is what was being locked away. Reaching down, she touches the lock. Had the spell done this? Was this little girl the manifestation of her past that she had forgotten?

♪Yesterday got away Melodies stuck inside your head A song in every breath...♪

<”They abandoned me...”>

<”They hate me...”>

<”It hurts...”>

<”I’m so hungry...”>

<”Please save me...”>

<”I’ll be good, so don’t leave me alone. I’m scared.”>

The child-like voices rang from all over, spoken throughout the darkness. Odval was still screaming her mantra of hatred, shaking her head as she sobbed. Angry tears rolled down her dirty cheeks, but Zahra understood it was fueled by confusion and pain, it wasn’t actually hatred.

“Come here.” she reached for the child and this time was not turned away. Zahra collected the tiny version of herself into her arms, wrapping her arms tight around the sobbing girl and cooing softly. “You don’t hate them, we just didn’t know any better. We were hungry, hurting, and scared.”

Zahra waited. She waited, rocking slowly while stroking dirty matted hair until the child’s sobbing calmed into soft hiccups and sniffles. When little Odval had finally calmed she pushed back her hair and pressed a kiss upon her forehead.

“It’s okay not to remember this.” Zahra finally says. “One day, a beautiful family will come and break you out of this darkness. You’ll have a wonderful life, you’ll meet wonderful people. You’ll fall in love a few times, go on adventures, join a dance troupe, get hurt, laugh, cry...it’ll be a full life. So you don’t have to remember this painful part of the journey. It’s okay to close and lock this box. Odval is gone. You’re Zahra.”

With a nod, the girl hugs Zahra close as she reaches over and closes the storage bin. The yurt disappears, leaving only Zahra’s voice to ring out in the darkness.

“♪Sing me to sleep now Sing me to sleep Won't you sing me to sleep now? Sing me to sleep...♪”

(Lyrics: Sing me to Sleep by Alan Walker)

[beebeyjuice]

Beezleboss (Beetlejuice*x Neutral!Reader x OC) NSFW-ish

I have to complete anessaya dn I’m over here awake, listening to Tenacious D so just take it okay? just take it and...cuddle with it. It needs to be cuddled with.

*I may add the rock!BJ AU and Devil!BJ tag because...it’s fucking Tenacious D what other excuse do I have???

Warnings: Mentions of R*pe, drugs, with a little dark humour* (read after the ellipses)

Update: It is 4 am...I started at 1 am. I liked this story very much :D. Enjoy.

Published: 4/11/20

https://soundcloud.com/butcher-ben-592/tenacious-d-beezleboss

~~~

I was sitting on the couch, strumming the guitar semi-consciously while waiting for my roommate to put the pot in the bong. The notes rolled off like a god was savoring the delicious riffs that kept on cooking. We alternated the use of the pick that we have found, and with its existence our lives gotten better. We gotten fame, money, a taste of both pussy and dick, because why the fuck not?

We even got a new friend, our agent, who’s nickname was Beezleboss. Sure it was a weird name, but there’s even weirder ones that are accepted by the crowd. Maybe he wanted to join the band?

(Y/N) came into the living room with the bag in their hand and sit next to me, and I placed the guitar in the stand. The pick I placed on the necklace frame. We both have our own necklace that holds the pick so it wouldn’t be as easy to lose it. It had its own eight, and its own disadvantages-

For one...we sometimes get paranoid and we forget the other one has it. Sometimes I’m up at 3 AM on the roof in my underwear and braless desperately looking for it, but then realization hits like a motherfucker when I realize that 1) (Y/N) has and 2) I am never on the roof for whatever reason, nice view though. It is always a nice view, it would be fun to fuck someone...maybe Beezlebub? Bezebos? Beteljuice? Juice...

“Hey (Y/N) hand me the orange juice will ya?” I asked and made a grabby motion and thanking them for the carton.

Our phones vibrated and (Y/N) leant over on her right side to scan the screen while holding the bong in her hand, “Oh hey it’s Beezleboss, wants to meet us in the front yard.”

Confused, I asked, “Why didn’t he just come in like he always does?”

You shrugged your shoulders and set down the bong gently, bitch, you’re never gently with my stuff.

~~

I dressed up, well...put on a bra because I didn’t want to deal with the sweat stains when I’m inside the house and followed you outside to meet our manager. Sometimes (Y/N) and I speak freely in our home how much we really want to fuck him...oh my goood was he just delicious-looking. He can join our little band anytime if it means we just hop on and-

“Hey boss, how’s it going?” you greeted with a smile and pulled him in a hug.

He smiled, his canines (fuuuck me he can mark me anytime) showed as he returned the hug, “Pretty good, I was just strolling by see how you guys are.” When he released the hug, he pulled back to adjust the striped jacket. He had such an unusual sense of fashion, but he was so fucking adorable. Sometimes I don’t know whether to pinch his cheeks or to whip his sweet thicc butt *I felt my head tilt a little to scan the curves* or to just...take me.

I know (Y/N) is thinking those dirty ass thoughts, they do this little thing by crossing their arms across their chest and and using the fingernail of their pinky to scratch their arm lightly to ground them to reality and not slip into their sexual fantasies. I’m pretty sure they want to see him in a leather outfit, and god do I as well. I’m more of an emotionless, “zoning out” kind of person. I scanned his body and when I watched those gorgeous hazel eyes, only for them to have a direct contact do I smile and go over to hug them. I had no fucking clue what they were talking about but they didn’t say my name. I held him in a side-hug, resting my hand on my hip as I now enter the conversation, “Boss, you looking sexy as ever.” I reported, serious and saluting him  as that was the most important part of the discussion. We both saw the sudden blush and timidness that appeared and I leaned back slightly, made direct eye contact with you and went from an emotionless expression to a wide grin and a thumbs up liek it was indeed the mst blessful day ever. I got away with these comments because it was common, (Y/N), however, that (gurl/boi/madamonsieure)....that’s 50 shades of F.U.C.K.E.D.U.P., my comments were NOTHING compared to what this sex demon had to offer

~Flashback~

Me: Yo, (Y/N), the city of fallen angels has nothing compare to the operas you perform when you commit to the sexto-y-nueve.

You: *chuckles and you lil shit would grab my chin and lightly graze it*  I will fuck you day and night, from pleasure to pain, whether you want to or not *leans closer* and you will start calling me the Lideric because I will not stop until you say my name like a prayer and your bones will be crumpling, you will be so dehydrated that you will need to go to the hospital constantly to get IV bags injected into your bloodstream that when you waste their resources, you depend on my own cum to keep you alive. *smirks*

Me: ... *mouth gaped*...

You: *taps on my chin and leaves me hanging as you do your research*

Me: Holy shit, mark me down as scared and horny.

~~

You smiled so sweetly as you tried to brush me off, “Ignore her, she’s had too much to drink.”

I lazily pointed at you, objecting your claim, “That is not true...I may have had about two cups of Orange Juice, who knows.” I shrug my shoulders lightly. This made beezleboss chuckle and had a fit of giggles before taking a deep breath to calm down, “Alright, alright, guys I’ve been meaning to tell you about this..situation that I’m in and-” now I slowly unglueed myself from the manager made slow, long steps to stand next to you, “...que paso, compadre?”

He was confused, trying to understand why I got so defensive and ready to beat his cute butt off the driveway.

“I hope it isn’t to tell us you won’t be our manager.” You stated bluntly, always more mature than me. Now I was able to see the rings that decorated his fingers, the black fingernails, the green hair that was slicked back, his skin slightly palish as always.

When he laughed, he shooked his heads, “No noo, that is not it nah- uh it has to do with production.”

I tilt my head to the side, “But we just finished producing songs yesterday.” I say in a high-pitch voice to make aware of my confusion.

He nods, “Yes, you have.” He grins, now there was one canine tooth that was visible and I was confused. I wasn’t going to address the lost tooth, but you sighed softly, “Right, I think I know what you mean. Mija, let’s grab our guitars and go to the studio and make a few more songs.” When you walked passed me, you added: “Besides, we have a few songs under our sleeves.” and you glanced down on the silver necklace.

I smile and nodded in affirmation then looked at our boss, “We’ll be right back!” and I ran, following you. When I walked up the stairs to the door, I reached up to the necklace and looked down to see the empty frame. I smiled, then I suddenly panicked. My eyes widen, and my body tensed up. I rushed to you, nearly pinning you against the wall. You were taken off guard, raising the guitars above our heads, “Mija! Watch it, you almost made drop the guitars-”

“Listen to me, and I mean....fucking. listen to me.” My voice was shaking, my hands were trembling and I was on brink in crying, “I...lost the pick.” and I sucked in my lips. Your eyes widen, lowering your arms, “Whatthefuckdoyoumeanyoulostthefuckingpick.” You said faster than you ever said anything in your life.

“I mean...I lost the pick. It was in the frame, and now it’s gone. We have to distract him, we have to distract boss and I have to look for the pick.”

~~~

Meanwhile, Beezleboss, who waited patiently, smirked slowly as he raised his hand to reveal the glowing green pick. The pick transformed into a canine tooth that was possible for him to shape shift into his true form: His eye color changed from the hazel to the golden orbs, his mouth opened slightly to reveal the two pairs of canines into two rows of sharp teeth. He stuck out his tongue for it to be fork-pitched and slithering to get the sensation used to.His suit got dirtier in means that it was aging, horns grew from the temples, making an upward curve. His finger nails grew into claws and he was more pale, like beige white paper. A tail was revealed from under the coat and flicked a few times, it stretched as well, curling a few times before making it rest on the concrete floor.

He lolled his head, making a growling sound emit from his throat as he was relieved to be in his true form, ready to take your souls to the netherworld and make you two suffer from the pain he had to endure with the stupid breathers.

~~~

I paced back and forth, repeating fragments and ideas before you take my shoulder, “We’re gonna find the pick, and we are going to make music after, okay?” You gave me my guitar and I put on the strap, “Y-yeah, yeah, we’re gonna find it.” I repeated, doing the habit of rubbing my fingertips and we headed out the door. However, when we walked outside, we screamed in horror as we jumped in our arms.

“IT’S SHOOOOWTIME!!~” The entity sanged in his gravelly voice, even biting his lip as he heard the screams, blinking only to smirk towards us, his golden eyes filled with rage and mischief.

We separated from each other to fully observe the demon, monster whatever it was that was in front of us, speechless in the moment.

He spread his arms apart as he says in a guttural tone: “I am complete!!”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck” (Y/N) and I synced, really progressing what was going on.

“Yes you are Fucked! Shit out of Luck! Now I’m complete and my Cock you will suck!” and he proceeded to open the jacket slightly to thrust his hips forwards to mimic the fucking motion, “This world will be mine, and you’re first in line, You brought me the pick and now you shall both die!”

I was frozen in place, my eyes could not tear off. I must be high, I must be.

But I hear (Y/N)...sing? After all, he did sounded like he was singing too in the way that he spoke.

“Waaaaaiit! Waaaaiiit Waaait you motherfucker!” and I finally looked over at (Y/N) who stepped forward and pointed at him, “We challenge youu to a rock off!”

They brought the guitar in hand, ready to play, only before he pointed at the demon with their basic pick, “Give us one chance to rock your socks off!...”

I swore I saw a little hip jiggle when you sang that part softly.

I know looked at the demon who looked ready to kill us, but was distressed.

“Fuck!” He turned around, his back facing us. Well, at least his ass looked better. “Fuck! Fuuuuuuck.” He growled, turning back around after clenching his hands and even running his hands through his hair, “The demon code prevents me,” and when he turned around, a scroll appeared in his hands. He looked annoyed, if not irritated at the challenge that my roommate came up with, “From declining a rock off challenge. WHat. are your terms, what’s the ca-a-atch~.”

Now it was our time, (Y/N) looked back at me and I was trying to tell you something but nothing came out. I was too scared,

“Four things, two from me and two from her!” You shouted, looking back at him, “...If we win, you must take your sorry aaasssss back to heeeelll. And also you will have to pay our reeent.”

I actually thought that was a good idea, and I nodded slowly in agreement but also respect for thinking outside of the box.

“And what if I win?..” His hand raised to graze his beard and the growls came back, and there was a chill in both our backs.

“...” Now I’m stuck.

“...Then you can take her back to hell...” (Y/N) suggested, shrugging her shoulders in an inquisitive way, to see if it would work. I nodded mindlessly before those words clicked. I quickly snapped my head to you, worried as fuck, “...What?!”

I stepped forward to you.

They looked straight ahead before glancing at me, “Trust me mija, it’s the only whey.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked in a panicked tone, only to be grabbed by them. Their arm wrapped around me , the other on my abdominal area as we both looked straight.

“To be your little..” and then I feel someone groping my chest, “bitch.” they finished and I snapped at them.

Partially satisfied, with an eye roll, he announced: “Fine! Let the Rock off Begin!” and he released a maniacal laughter that would have wet my underwear for multiple reasons besides being scared.

And when he raised his hands, the scene changed. We were caught in the middle of an arena of speakers, a drum set appearing, a microphone sitting in the middle. A guitar and a bass on their stands. We watched three clones appear, each taking their places. The real raised his hand and lowered it as he stood behind the microphone. The drummer was perfect in every way playing the drummer, never missing a beat (no times for puns).

“I’m the devil- I love metal!” They all sang in unison, more guttural than with one, only from the real one to stuck out his tongue and wiggle it at us. We jumped at every chance, fidgety and also speechless at the performance.

The guitarist stepped forward, planting his right foot forward only to succesfully catch out attention when said, “Check this riff is fucking Tasty!!” and proceeded to shred out souls he performed.

Lastly, the real boss, he took the microphone, the tail wrapped around the stand as he sang his verse:

“I’m the devil I can do what I want

Whatever I’ve got I’m gonna flaunt!

There’s never been a rock off that I’ve ever lost!”

I glanced at you in a concerned look, already certain that I’m fucked.

When I look back, however, he revealed a wall of sex toys which made me jump.

“I can’t wait to take her back to hell

I’m gonna fill her with my hot demon gel” and he squirted lube on us, making us jump but me cower behind you.

“I’ll make her squeal like my scarlet pimpernel!” and he mimicked once again the fucking motion. .For a moment, (Y/N) stepped forward and shouted, “NOoooo!” It Boss by surprise, the illusion getting rid of. Head turned over their shoulder, they tried to make me jump in, “Come on Mija, bring the thunder!”

I was hopeless, I was already see the future of being a sexdoll, “There’s just no way that we can win, that was a master piece...”

Now they turned around and grabbed my shoulders, “Listen to me.”

“He rocks to hard because he’s not a mortal man!” I raised my hand at him who was currently smoking a cig.

“God damn it! He’s gonna make you his sex slave, gonna gargle mayonnaise-”

“Nooo” I sobbed.

“Unless we bust a massive monster mama-jam!”

I nodded, understanding you, “We’ve been through so much shit...“

“Deactivated lasers with my dick!” He shouted excitedly, and for a mere second attempted to remember a single memory where they did that.

“Now it’s time to bow this fucker dooown!!” we synced and faced the boss.

I brought out the guitar and began to strum only for you to continue “Come now, it’s time to blow doors down!”

I nodded excitedly, bouncing on my toes, “I hear you man it’s time to blow doors down!”

You posed and danced as you sang, “Light up the stage ‘cause its time for a showdown!”

Now I was confident to step forward with the thanks of my friend, “We’ll bend you over then we’ll take you to Brown Town.”

and we both sang, “Now we’ve got to blow this fucker doown!”

I quickly stated the fact if this does not work: “He’s gonna rape me if we don’t blow doors down!”

“Come on, we must drive it down now”

“Yeah Baby!!”

You confidently pointed at him as you smirked, “Hey anti-christ-er, Beezlboss, we know you’re weekness- OUR ROCKET SAUCE!”

ANd the something came over me that suddenly I stopped playing, only to actually be stuck ina thinking process.

The halt confused you and the boss, “What the fuck was that!” you shouted.

I scanned the boss almost ina  critizing way, “I just realized something...”

“HUH?!” you both responded.

“I never got to say what I wanted.” I stated plainly.

You wacked the back of my head and I nearly tripped.

“You were nearly raped and you’ve got the nerve to say that!”

“Wait cabron listen to me!” you shouted back and the you looked at the boss, “Yo, you gnna destroy the world?”

Speechless, Beezlboss remained there, “Uhhh...no?”

I nodded and process that, “Then how about we forget all this and come inside, become our new roommate and date?”

That question alone made them look around for any secrets cameras of some sort.

“What the fuck is happening..”

“Exactly, you know, when you were human and all, (Y/N) wanted you to fuck us and fuck you. You see them scratch their arm right?”

“yeah...”

“Observant! But that’s their way of not falling into a sexual fantasy! I’m a motherfucking open book that will open her legs with a snap of fingers! Rape is off-limits though!”

“And...?”

“Boy,...you will not hear the end of the day if you let me continue talk when I want to date that sexy ass of yours. ANd now that you have horns, now I have something to hold on when I’m riding- let’s go inside. now.” You made your way inside, shocking both outside.

“Now!!!!” you barked and both (Y/N) and boss head inside. I got closer look and I grin, “Oohh, you managed to get even sexier.”

“Wait...you both....really wanted to fuck me?”

“And date you, don’t forget that. We just didn’t want to make it awkward since you were out manager.” you explained, making you blush from the revelation.

“And you still want to date me?” He asked in clarification and you quickly grabbed his tie and pulled him down in a lustful kiss, taking your hand in mine to pull closer. I introduced tongue and when we pull apart, a string of saliva was attached, “You should wait until (Y/N) opens their mouth. I came three times.” you admitted, “didn’t even touch me.” I smirked, “Now come on, let’s ignore what just happened and just get on with it yeah?” you asked and leaned forward to kiss his neck. You blushed so hard, you felt him place his hand on your waist and nodded to male the move. His expression soften up and you leaned forward to kiss him, already twirling tongues.

One thing for sure, this relationship is the best one ever made.

[mystic-voyager]

Hello, Goodbye.

Date: 27/11/19

Ship: (Romantic) Prinxiety

Word Count: 1,599

Trigger Warning: Self Harm

Song Inspiration: Today is a gift

Summary: Virgil is struggling. Roman helps him see the good in the bad by giving him purpose and reason to fight to see another day. Come what may, His prince will always be there, by his side.

Quote: “My sun sets to rise again”  –  Robert Browning

Roman and Virgil were both relaxing within the commons, located on the sofa watching a Disney movie that Virgil had picked out. Roman was seated comfortably on the sofa with a content and relaxed Virgil situated in his lap, happily watching the film, making the odd comment here and there which in turn would earn a soft chuckle from the creative side.

Roman was playing around with the younger males hair, as he took small locks and twisted it around his finger loosely before releasing and allow it to settle back down. He found his focus primarily fixed on his boyfriend instead of the film, not that he minded much.  As roman continued to observe, He took into account how quiet the other had become which was unlike him. As Virgil was always chatty, and always willing to question motives that he didn’t agree with in films they watched, which were one of the reasons Roman loved watching films with the anxious side.

Although Virgil had made a snide remark here and there earlier on about the characters or the plot, it was far from his usual self. Roman slowly picked up the remote that laid alone beside him, just in case one of them needed it, and he paused the film.  Seeing the film paused had Virgil looking up to the other in question, pouting as he was getting into enjoying the film. “Why did you pause it … it was getting good” The male prodded as he lightly poked the taller males chest in question. “Wait don’t tell me … you need the toilet again” The anxious side joked lightly, as there was no harm behind his words, only playful banter.

Roman hesitated, not replying right away, as he gently placed the remote back down and off to the side so it was back on the sofa. There was a worrisome pause between the two, as both locked eyes with each other. Roman had taken the opportunity to do a little searching. He searched deep within Virgils eyes, trying to read him. Only there was one problem with that, Virgil was adversely knowledged in how to hide emotions.  Roman searched his face for any indication whilst the other stared back up at him, almost in a blank expression.

“What’s Up?” Came Romans collected, caring voice, so quiet it was almost inaudible. His features relaxed as his gaze softened even further. Roman slowly raised his hand as he gently brushed a stray hair out of his boyfriend’s face, tucking it back into its respectful place.

“Nothing, Nothings wrong” Virgil shot back although there was no malice behind his tone or words. “I never said anything was wrong … Come on Virgil. I know you better than you know yourself. Talk to me.” Romans voice never waved as he gently pressed on, trying to coerce the other but not wanting him to feel forced into talking either. Roman used his fingers to lightly trace small patterns onto the others paler looking face, in a soothing and comforting gesture. Wanting the anxious side know that he wasn’t going to force him to talk and that he would wait, no matter how long.

Virgil slowly shifted in his boyfriend’s lap, so he was able to sit up straighter than he had been before. As he did so, the males head dropped a little as his eyes closed. A low, slow sigh was audibly heard from Virgil, which resulted in Roman brushing his hands through anxieties brown hair in a thoughtful gesture. Virgil knew the truth behind Romans words. Roman did know Virgil better than Virgil new himself. Although he didn’t want to admit it, something was wrong.

Roman mimicked Virgil’s movements from before, as he too, slowly shifted so he was sitting crossed legged and opposite his lover. The silence continued to spur around the commons surrounding them both. Engulfing them like a bear hug. Roman allowed the time to pass in silence knowing that the time would allow the other to gather his thoughts.

After what seemed like a long time, but was only mere minutes, the silence broke. “How do you do it?” He mumbling, finding himself unable to meet the prince’s eyes. “Do what?” Came Romans response, surprised and dumbfounded by the question asked. “How do you get up every morning? How do you get through the day? How are you so generous and loving? How do you find purpose and reason for seeing every sunrise and sunset?” Each question tumbled from his lips continuously, one after the other. Finally meeting Romans eyes, his eyes showed exhaustion and defeat.

“You” was Romans only response, which only fueled anxieties spiralling emotions as tears formed within the smaller males eyes. “You are the reason, Virgil. I get up every morning, knowing that I will get to see you, touch you, love you, care for you … It’s all because of you” The prince smiled as his voice because breathy and almost inaudibly quiet. Roman took hold of Virgils hands in his. “You are a wonder, Virgil. You are the greatest gift anyone could ever hope or wish for. Since the day I laid eyes on you … Knowing I get the chance to be with you, the chance to fall in love with you all over again, as each day passes.” Roman spoke as if it were a promise. His eyes were filled with lust and honesty.

Virgil was unable to comprehend the bombardment of emotions that flood through him as if a dam had just broken. He allowed the tears to spill over, not wanting to stop them even if he could.  "Mi Amor …“ Roman spoke in a fluent spanish accent, unsure of why the other had such a distressing reaction.

Virgil finally spoke up, which relieved princy, knowing he hadn’t gone too far, only for it to have taken an unexpected turn. "Why me? Why not fall in love with someone else? I’m flawed Roman! Broken! Can’t you see? You deserve better, someone who can love you the same way you love them …”

“Virgil” The prince pleaded, in a broken strained tone, before the anxious side cut him off. “Look! ” Virgil raised his voice as it cracked. The smaller, distressed male yanked up the sleeves of his hoodie to reveal what was truely laying underneath. Underneath lay reddened healed scarred which were dressing his arms. “I’m a mess Roman” Tears descended from the males bloodshot red eyes, as they travelled down his hollow cheeks, leaving stains in their wake. Romans eyes travelled up and down the arms of the other, his heart-shattering in pain at the sight before him, soon to compose himself into a more manageable state as he held the tears at bay, unwilling for them to fall.

“Virgil … Virgil, Look at me” Roman gently placed his finger and thumb below the others chin, ever so gently lifting it so Virgil could see him. “Virgil, I’m not mad … I’m not upset” Before he paused taking a calming and steady breath. Both Roman and Virgil locked eyes as the prince continued. “Virgil, I look at you and I see my whole future. I’m not going anywhere storm cloud” He reassured as he allowed the nickname to roll off his tongue like silk, before smiling sadly.  "I hate to break it to you, but you stuck with me, whether you like it or not.“ Roman joked lightly, trying to lighten the mood between the two of them.

"Why didn’t you tell me?” Came the taller males, sympathetic and gentle voice in question as he maintained its levelness. The overdramatic side now gone only to be replaced with sincerity.  "I - I was scared … I didn’t think … I didn’t want to be a burden …“ Explained the anxious side chocking on the sobs that got caught in his tight throat, as he confessed his reasoning behind his actions of the past. "I-I’m Struggling Roman” His words came out stagged, dissipating Romans heart in one fellow swoop.

Virgil collapsed into his boyfriend as his sobs racked his frame, having confessed the truth, after so long of covering it up and hiding it behind his facade.  Roman instantaneously wrapped his arms around the smaller male. Virgils words having taken a traumatic toll on him as he tried his best to keep it together, knowing he had to stay strong for both of them. His heart still fragmented at the feeling of having failed. Failed to protect his damsel in distress. Failed to protect his equal.

Virgils sobs quietened down as he grew more and more tired from the emotional turmoil that raged on inside of him. He took hold of the last remains of control he had over his mind and body, always remaining in the others embrace, which brought a sense of being guarded, allowing his walls to come down.

Roman steadied his breathing and subtly wiped away the tears that had unintentionally escaped away. He placed a loving kiss upon Virgil’s head as he made a silent promise. A promise he would honour and keep until the day where he would take his last dying breath.

“Don’t worry about what was or what will be. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery but today is a gift. That is why they call it the present.” Roman hummed as he recited the words to the male who was curled up in his lap, in peaceful slumber with his prince who would protect him, come what may. Roman would always be there to protect him.

[ngame989]

“Brew” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 6

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: After close to a year on Earthni, Tom's been dragged back into the princely life, and it's a lot less exciting than he'd expected. With Star and Marco away on urgent business, can Janna help him turn a boring errand into a fun adventure?

Comic Page

Masterpost

This one’s a nice change of pace from the last two chapters, I think. TGG’s still a Starco-focused work, expect these to be the exception not the norm, but I think it’s important to strike a balance. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“No results.” Huh? Three eyes narrowed at the screen in frustration. Maybe a different search term? “No results.” Alright Tom, no big deal, man. Maybe you just spelled something wrong. Annnnnd… there. “No results.” How could there be nothing?

Tom leaned back in the chair and sighed, exercising restraint over the little anger demons inside him as he’d trained himself to do. In the past he’d needed a physical bunny to pet if he wanted even a hope of keeping his cool, but at this point suppressing the urge was such reflex that most would think he just had a regular Mewman quick temper and nothing more in all but the most extreme of conditions, but he was getting pretty close to that point now. Grandpa Relicor’s study had everything, or so he thought, but this was the first time he could ever remember being here where it come up short. He’d checked every shelf, everything he could think in the computer, had even fireblasted a few of the shelves just to see if there were any hidden switches or anything. Even Relicor had been at a loss and had been screeching in distress on the floor for long enough that Tom’s brain had graciously tuned it out. What could be so important about this book his mom needed? He hadn’t even had time to change his casual graphic tee from a cartoon he liked, simply tossing his maroon jacket over it before heading out at his mother’s behest. He wasn’t one to say no to her, but it had been hours since he’d shown up here and he was no closer to figuring this out than he had been this morning.

Suddenly his phone buzzed, displaying the familiar beaming face of his ex-girlfriend close up to the camera. A toothy grin erupted as he picked it up, holding the phone up for a video feed. “Heya, Starship.”

“Hey, Tom!” Star beamed into the camera. “How’s it hanging? Long time no see. So,” she rambled out in one breath, “I may have a teensie weensie wittle problem.” She backed up to reveal her hair in complete disarray, sans horns, and black marks all over her light blue dress. Before Tom could even ask the question, her other hand held up charred fragments of her headband. “Someone still hasn’t learned how to use an Earth oven properly!” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Look, gurl, I said I was like, so sorry! All the Cloud Kingdom kitchens are powered by glitter and horn blasts, like that’s just how ovens are supposed to be, that is all I am saying here,” Ponyhead’s indignant voice chimed in from behind, punctuated by a snort.

“Anyway, we just finished putting out the fires and I need a new headband and their website says they’re almost out of stock and I’ve wanted to show Marco around the Underworld for a while and- wait, is that screeching in the background? Where are you?”

Tom shuffled away from the elder demon still writhing on the floor and cleared his throat. “Just in Grandpa’s study trying to find something for my mom, she really wants it today. I don’t know if I can go- but I can still send the carriage for you guys, if you want.”

“Do you need help with that?” Marco inquired as he peeked his head into the frame, casually wrapping an arm around Star.

“Naaaah, no big deal,” Tom shrugged. “You two should go, though! I can just fly over whenever I finish this.”

Star and Marco looked at each other hesitantly. “Alright,” she said. “Carriage to our house in maybe five minutes?” A fire alarm went off behind her followed by a scream from Ponyhead and an even girlier one from Marco. “Maybe ten,” Star sighed, burying her face in her free hand.

“You got it,” Tom chuckled.

“OK, bye!” Star said with relief before hanging up. He rolled his shoulders from inside his jacket and ran his hands through his hair before stepping into the main foyer, taking advantage of the space to summon the carriage and its horses, the incantations coming effortlessly to him. Demons had been fortunate enough to retain their powers on Earthni, but the location underground and the relative lack of portaling methods available left them even more isolated than previously. While most of the other kingdoms had dissolved or integrated into a loose coalition of government covering all of the Echo Creek area, the Underworld had been content to stay completely under the banner of Lord and Lady Lucitor, and Tom found himself pitching in more and more in his role as Prince. In truth, he would have appreciated the company his friends were offering, but he knew how much it had meant to Star to be able to give this life up, and he didn’t want to drag her - either of them, really, considering Marco had earned an official title on Mewni himself - back into the boring thick of regal errands. Was Prince Thomas Draconius Lucitor really going to let some stuffy old book collection get the best of him? Hah, as if.

With a flick of his wrist, the half-demon shuttled the carriage to the surface in a pillar of flame, barely looking and instead pulling out his new phone. He was still getting the hang of the new and improved Reflectacorp’s Earth tech integration, but he’d at least learned how to open yesterday’s text conversation thread from its new message notification.

Janna: anti-gravity potion attempt 4 failed. affected bottle glass itself and launched into sky. note to self: work under roof. star and marco’s suggestions didnt work either. not all bad though, it went towards cloud kingdom lol

Tom: careful, don’t hit pony’s ego and make it fly even higher ·;) btw pony + starco are going shopping in underworld soon. im stuck working for mom though.

Janna: stores r lame. even in underworld. and srsly dude u gotta stop using starfans dumb name for them. otoh it bugs them so actually nvm go 4 it

Tom: it was mine first >·:( it saves letters when they’re together!

Janna: which is always

Tom: exactly. speaking of which, they’re here ttyl

Star stepped out of the carriage in a nice white polka dotted green dress, quickly followed by Marco, the pair’s fingers remaining intertwined until they gave him a hello hug, and Tom honestly wasn’t sure they’d stopped holding hands even then. Ponyhead burst out a moment later with her phone floating in front of her pointed at herself, and she was in the middle of a monologue to no one in particular.

“-so yeah anyway as you all can see we have now arrived in the Underwoooorld. So yeah this is, like, basically the best place on all of Earthni to go shopping as I’ll be showing you today. Oh yeah, I guess some demon boys live here too. Oh my goodness, say hello you guuuys,” she rolled her eyes as she butted in between Star and Tom, side-eyeing him for a split second before grinning back into the camera. After all this time Pony still hadn’t dropped the passive aggression over his and Star’s messy history; Tom had to admit it was a bit understandable, but did she really have to keep it up in such an annoying way? He rolled his eyes - it was Ponyhead he was thinking about here. “OK, the Ponyhead Experience will be taking a short break. Tune back in soon! Love y’all, buhbye!” She snapped the phone shut and caught it with her tongue. “Ugh, why do all of my vlogs with you dorks get like ten times as many viewers? Tom, you were in the shot for like three seconds and do you know what happened? 2000 more people tuned in! What the heck! It’s like, just because I have one less horn and one less eye I’m not exciting to you? But I can’t stay mad at my adooooring fans.”

“Must be the Lucitor charm.” He flashed a toothy smile and a pair of finger guns at her, accidentally flinging his phone across the room in the process. “Totally planned,” he blurted out with a much less authentic grin. Marco chuckled and picked it up, handing it back and patting him mock-sympathetically on the shoulder while holding back a smirk.

Star giggled but tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the room nervously. “OK, great catching up, but on the way here I checked the website and the headband shop is almost out of stock! We have to go, now! Let’s move it, people! Tom, can we borrow the carriage for the day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re the best!”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Marco inquired again.

“You heard the girl, Marco, my audience wants to see us get our shop on!”

Tom blew a raspberry, pushing them towards the carriage. “Relax, it’s nothing. I’m practically done already! Tooootally almost done!”

Marco finally relented, nodding his assent. Star was bouncing up and down so much that she looked ready to launch around the room. He giggled as she wrapped both her arms around his middle and kissed his cheek before hauling him the rest of the way into the carriage. “C’mon boo, mama needs a new pair of horns. Plus we can get whatever you need, too! I saw a few things in the catalog that would look preeeetty good on you,” she sing-songed, walking two fingers up his chest to boop his nose after they plopped down onto the seat together. Ponyhead mimed vomiting at Tom, who silently laughed in response; they were so engrossed with each other that Tom was fairly certain they wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d shouted his laughter, though. He blankly stared at the spot the carriage had been for a few seconds after it exited in a blaze.

“Pretty gross, right?” Tom started and launched a fireball in the direction of the voice, hovering away from the intruder. A split second after, his vision caught up with his instincts and saw Janna in her usual green shirt and beanie and yellow skirt, sans jacket, nonchalantly sidestep the flame. “You do the same thing every time, you really need to work on that,” she chided with her arms crossed and a devious smirk on her face.

He rubbed his temple and gestured at her in sullen disbelief. “How did you-”

“Roof of the carriage.”

“Huh.” An eyebrow up in surprise, studying her expression. “You never usually, you know, answer that.”

She shrugged, kicking a boot into the hard stone floor. “Whatever, guess I’m just bored. Besides, half the reason I do that is to get a rise out of Marco,” she slyly snickered, and Tom couldn’t help but join in. “Alright, demon boy, what adventure are we going on today?”

Tom crossed his arms apprehensively. “Just trying to find a book for my mom, not really much of an adventure.”

“Like I said, dude, I’m bored and shopping is dumb. I don’t mind hanging out here for a study session or whatever, your family’s got great taste in decor.” She picked a skull off the ground and tossed it back and forth between her hands. He grinned back at her, grateful for the company. “So what kind of creepy curses are in this book?”

The pair started walking back into the study as their conversation continued. “Don’t think there are any. It’s called ‘Historia Homewnum’, according to my mom, so it’s probably a history book but that’s all I know.”

“Darn. Demon history’s bound to be pretty cool, though.”

“You’d be surprised how little actually happens down here, it’s just a lot of maintenance. Last month the most important thing I did was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a new boba cornshake shop, it’s really caught on here since the Cleaving. But man is it good! Marco was right, the little pearls are just so tasty, I like the creamed corn version best.”

“What is it with you and corn, seriously...” Janna shuddered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He knew he’d gotten distracted thinking about the delicious creamy beverage, but that didn’t seem like an adequate reason to look so horrified, especially coming from Janna. Not able to figure out any other reason she might be disgusted by his comments, he got his thoughts back on track. “Really don’t know why she wants this thing so much. Anyway, I already checked the entire study for it, and the search archives don’t have anything either. Oh well, what can you do, might as well just give up and-”

“Found something,” Janna piped up, somehow already in the computer chair with her feet on the desk.

“Really? How?” he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“OK, I didn’t actually find the book, but maybe we should check this place out.” He leaned into the screen to see a Mewgle search for ‘how to find weird book in underworld’ on the screen.

“I already tried that, Janna!”

“Yeah, but your antivirus was blocking this link to some place called the ‘Librarinth’.”

Tom slammed his palm into his forehead. “Of course, the Librarinth! How could I not think to look there, that’s where all the oldest books are. Why was it getting blocked?”

She clicked on the link and both recoiled at the sight: an abhorrent patterned background with almost unreadable randomly colored text and low quality cartoon images scattered all around the page. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she said in response to his obvious horror. “Seriously, whoever must made this website must be, like, a thousand years old.”

“Probably , yeah, but why does that have anything to do with-” His eyes widened in realization as he clapped his hands together in contemplation. “Right, humans and their lifespans. Go on.”

“Look.”

She scrolled past the despondent, blurry faces of demons of all shapes and sizes in the staff section until she arrived at the catalog, folding her arms triumphantly. Tom excitedly butted in, typing into the search box and being greeted with a loading wheel. “Uh, Janna? It’s not working.”

“Pfft, yeah, I might actually be dead by the time the search finishes. But that doesn’t matter because they have our book. It’s the header image for the whole catalog.” He squinted and brought his face closer to the monitor, and to his surprise the title was clear as day on the cover of the book, although all the other information was too difficult to make out. “Alright, let’s go. Main page says the Librarinth is on Floor 216.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon elevator was summoned into a bookshelf much as it had been the day they had dealt with the Blood Moon. Relicor’s shrieking, which had slowed to a whimper since they’d left, resumed in full; fortunately they began descending, which quickly put them out of earshot. Tom awkwardly stretched his arms, unsure what exactly to say. She was his friend, yes, but he was never the best at small talk, and Janna being Janna didn’t make that any easier. After long, messy years of broken hearts and misguided feelings, he finally felt comfortable forging friendships, but even though they got along quite well there was something about Janna that made that vibe a lot less effortless than with Marco or even Star. Thoughts of his other friends reminded him of something. “Uh, by the way… how did you even know about the carriage earlier?”

“A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”

“Pony was posting about it every 15 seconds,” he guessed, calling Janna’s bluff.

“Touché. Every 10, though,” she coolly responded. “Ha, now she’s just flipping out because Star and Marco have way more likes than her selfies.”

“Figured you’d have him bugged or something,” Tom chuckled as he scooted over to get a look at Janna’s screen, and sure enough there was a picture collage of Star sitting in Marco’s lap with tens of thousands of likes and comments already. They were laughing their butts off at themselves in a mirror in front of them with novelty sunglasses, fake mustaches, goofy props, and even a few absurd full-body costumes; Ponyhead joined the fun for a few but just as often butt in trying to take over the mirror by herself.

“Ew, no, I disabled it all months ago. Boyfriend Tom was already too cutesy for me, and you two just had a little flirty fling. Do you think I’d really want to see or hear whatever Star and Marco have going on? They’re, like, deeply in love, or whatever, and it’s gotten even worse in the last few weeks.”

He murmured in tacit agreement. Now that he thought about it, they had seemed even more affectionate than usual, but he wasn’t too keen on uncovering why that might be. The ding of the elevator saved him from any further speculation, and he and Janna stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, which was empty with cobwebs coating most of the weathered stone walls. Janna looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Anyway, so the Librarinth is basically a combination of a library and a labyrinth-”

“Right, I got that,” she curtly retorted.

“The legends say that some ancient librarian demons wanted to challenge any who sought knowledge, so they hid all the books in a giant maze that only the worthy could navigate. But everyone who made it still decided to organize it thoroughly for some reason, and you still had to check out the books and bring them back and all that.”

She ran a finger over the dust on the front counter, and the surface of the desk sizzled in response, causing her to pull her hand back before poking the bubbles that formed with a curious smile. “So why is it completely empty?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeeeeell, after a few people went missing or insane, everyone realized it really wasn’t a great way to, you know, run a library. Grandpa actually started collecting books to try and get them away from this place. No one really knows what goes on in there, but as far as I know it’s still maintained even though no one uses it. The kingdom stopped staffing the lobby but they could never just shut it down because anyone who tried, well-”

“Went missing or insane. Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you brought me to a wicked hell maze filled with psychotic demon nerds. Maybe there’ll be bottomless pits or a wicked dungeon boss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Mr. Lucitor,” she purred, running a finger up his chest and flicking his nose.

“Haha, very funny. And it’s Prince Lucitor,” he sarcastically chided, poking her arm in response before crossing the room with her following, but he couldn’t help but hide that he was flustered. Seeing Star and Marco’s relationship in the past year had reinforced his already-firm convictions about romance: he wanted someone with whom he could be life partners in all ways, not just handholding and rooftop picnics. Otherwise, what would be the point? He’d made that mistake enough times, and even just a light jab at the notion of him casually flirting struck made him feel self-conscious about that past. Finally his reflection was halted when he found what he sought: a large wrought iron door furnished with ornate demonic symbols and various carvings of mythological creatures dwarfed them both. With a soft, steady flame for light, he brought his hand up and ran it over the rusty engravings. He jumped back with a gasp as the fire spread into the lines of the door, lighting up the patterns on it and causing it to creak as it slowly opened.

“Nice,” Janna muttered in awe before strolling inside, with Tom hesitantly following. She was the most eager of their little group to dive headfirst into the unknown, even more than Star most of the time, but he trusted her gut.

They started walking down the long, cramped hallways, hearing only the sound of their own footsteps on the cold floor. Janna peeked her head into a small doorway that appeared to their left, earning herself an explosive blast to the face and getting knocked onto her butt. Tom slammed the door shut and leaned in to read an inscription next to it. “Incinerator for any books too damaged or damaging for further use. Probably not the right place.”

Janna huffed, brushing herself off and finding scraps of paper among the char. “I can see that. Seriously, what kind of labyrinth labels its doors?”

“Maybe one run by book nerds,” Tom offered, gripping her hand to help her up.

“So it’s just as bad at being a labyrinth as it is a library. Neat. Great adventure.”

Tom pressed on, keeping his focus ahead of them. “Hey, I’m just here to help my mom. You’re the one that said you were fine with anything.”

“Fine, fine. Just saying, I could be working on my potions or something.” She pulled a glass bottle full of purple liquid from her skirt pocket and casually tossed it at a wall. Janna snickered at Tom’s yelp when it shattered, but found herself joining him in backing away when a chunk of stone quickly deteriorated and slammed into the ground at incredible speed. She went over and carefully kicked a pebble, finding it impossible to even budge. “See, this was just a stupid pro-gravity potion. Worthless.”

He leaned against the stable wall opposite the hole, sighing. “I’m sure there has to be something interesting here. What if we, I dunno, make it a competition or something?” His frustration with both the situation and Janna were there, yes, but he still wanted to try and get something fun out of the day.

“Go on,” Janna said, eyes flickering up from the bottle that she was tossing between her hands nonchalantly.

OK, maybe he should have thought further ahead. His arms flailed as he scrambled to come up with an idea. “OK, so, uh, whoever finds the weirdest thing in this place in the next hour wins. Just call them out if you think you found something. Or whoever finds the book, whichever comes first, yeah. Mom still needs it.”

“Momma’s boy. I respect that. You’re on, Tom.” Janna cocked an eyebrow, staring at him for a second before pushing off the wall into a sprint, opening the first door she could find. “Empty. Another empty. Three empties, dammit.”

Tom used his flight to travel more smoothly from door to door on his side of the corridor, but still found himself losing ground as he took the time to read the sign posted by each threshold. The ‘Demonic Studies’ room had a very ornately ghoulish aesthetic, with macabre skeletal models throughout. Definitely something to show Janna on the way out just for the aesthetic, and it’d have been weird for most humans, but it wasn’t any more abnormal than what the two of them were used to as a daily routine. Another room for astronomy had an exquisite planetarium dome, but it turned out to be rather useless as the Underworld did not, in fact, contain any stars since it was underground. There was, however, a plentiful selection of guides to stalactites stocked on the shelves. The next four whole sections were devoted to anger management self-help books, which only made him waste precious seconds cringing at old memories.

His pace picked up as he kept going from door to door finding nothing but normal library fare, although he had to admit it was certainly well-maintained. On any other day he might actually enjoy some of the things here, but today he was on a mission to get out of here so they could actually have fun elsewhere.

‘Bookworms’... now that had potential. What sorts of hybrid creatures could lurk behind the inches of wood? “I think I might have found something!” he shouted, throwing open the door only to receive a harsh shushing. Within were only elderly demons in cozy sweaters reading by candlelight, all now glaring at him with an intensity that reminded him of his mom’s own rare reprimands. “Never mind,” he loud-whispered back out into the hall as he gently closed the door and found Janna in a nearby corridor. “Ugh, why is there nothing interesting here?” Sparks trailed behind him from his mounting anger as he paced.

“Tell me about it, even ‘Wormbooks’ was just a bunch of regular novels, somehow,” she sighed. “I was hoping for a big long chain of open books slithering around on the ground, now there’s a party.” She slumped down against the wall next to the streak of flame he’d left on the ground, idly stamping it out with her boot until Tom sat down beside her.

“Wouldn’t a wormbook be the opposite? A big fat worm in the shape of a book?”

“Nah, it’d totally be a book made of a bunch of little flatworms all working together, duh. Still pretty lame.”

OK, now he knew something was up with her. “Janna, is- is something wrong?”

Her body slouched further down until she was almost horizontal on the cold floor, staring ahead of her like a zombie. “Being weird has just felt so pointless lately. Everything’s weird now, all the time! I’m wasting all my time trying to brew potions when there’s a shop that sells them on every corner. I got so bored that I even passed that same dumb test Marco did and now I’m done with high school, like, for real this time.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s easy if you know who to blackmail.” Tom blinked a few times, not sure why he’d expected anything different. “Everyone else is moving on with their lives, but I’m still feeding the same old possums and picking up the same old tennis balls. The whole point of my routine is that it’s different, it’s me, it’s my Jannanigans or whatever Star calls it, but it’s just not the same. I’m still into all that stuff, and Earthni’s actually really cool, but… ugh.” With that, her head fully sunk to the ground.

Tom brought his palms together over her head, opening and shutting his hands while wiggling his fingers around. “It’s a wormbook,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what he was doing. It was silly amusement, but perhaps that was just what she needed right now. Janna frowned and rolled her eyes, so he snapped at her arm with his hand puppet wormbook a few times.

“Alright, I get it,” she barked out, but her sullen demeanor slowly cracked under the onslaught of frivolity as she sat back up with an unusually ponderous look at him.

“Remember that time you took me bootsledding?” She nodded. “You told me that I needed to find a life outside of Star, and- and it was really great advice. Didn’t mean I still couldn’t like spending time with Star or anything, heck, I still do! But I just needed to get out of that rut of depending on it. Maybe you just need to do that, too. If doing your weirdness by yourself is normal, then adding something normal might be kinda weird.”

“That’s it.” Janna leapt to her feet, looking very suddenly invigorated. “That’s it!”

“Well, uh, glad you liked it. It was nothing, really, just trying to be a good pal-”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” she waved dismissively, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit scorned. “If weird is normal then normal is weird. We were looking for the craziest things we could find here, but everything that should have been weird was normal, so we should be looking for the most painfully boring room here!” All three of Tom’s eyes blinked a few times as her words sunk in. Could it be…? “Tom, over here!” He hustled over to a particularly plain wooden door. Janna pointed at the plaque on the wall, which was far more faded than the others had been. “Look. ‘Government Records’.”

A burst of energy coursed through Tom’s blood, sparking life in him once more, and he could see the same reflected in Janna’s determined brown eyes. “And the book Mom wanted has something to do with history. Maybe it’s political history! Janna, you might be a genius!”

“Pfft, ‘might’. Now we just gotta…” She grabbed his arm, aiming it at the door, and he looked at her incredulously. “C’mon, dude, who knows what’s behind there. We’re gonna bust in with a demon blast, duh. Pew-pew!”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turning up in a begrudging smile gave away his agreement. The pair aimed at the door and blew it off its hinges before charging in through the smoke.

“I see you two have finally solved the grand riddle of the Librarinth!” A deep, booming voice greeted them from the smoke. “Janna Ordonia, Thomas Lucitor, you certainly took your time. I expected you to book it here much more quickly. No matter, for this room shall be your tome!”

“How do you know my-” Janna stammered.

“Uh, don’t you mean tomb-” Tom started at the same time before realizing the wordplay and groaning in misery. Wait a second… Epic threats, an obvious personality quirk…

“Dungeon boss!” the teens cheered together, glancing back and forth between each other and the remainder of the room in front of them obscured by shadow.

“It is I, the bookkeeper of this place. I guard the most sacred treasure of all… knowledge!” Paper rustled loudly, echoed throughout the cavernous space, far taller and wider than Tom had noticed when they first entered with a massive array of bookshelves many times taller than him in a single row near the back wall. The ground beneath them began to shake and Tom tossed a puff of light in front of him, exposing the wide chasm that had just opened up in the ground, swallowing all the shelving in the room. Neither were prepared for the sight that greeted them: a coiled mass unfurled from the abyss and slithering with purpose along the ground, finally raising itself up to stand at fifteen feet tall, swaying back and forth with enough force to create an artificial wind within the space. A closer look showed that the body was made of some peculiar segments of… books, of all shapes and sizes. The volume at the top of the chain was much larger and far more ornately embossed than the others, and on the blood red surface of the cover Tom could make out a set of eyes. As the picture became more and more clear, he could finally see what they were up against. Now THIS is a bookworm.

“Aren’t libraries supposed to be, like, public and free?” Janna blithely inquired.

“You are correct, child, but perhaps try reporting that to your friend there! The Lucitor family is the sworn enemy of this great Librarinth! That fiend Relicor pilfered our collection for his own use for millennia, and the rest tried to shut this place down for good. But worst of all, in the most egregious display of contempt I have witnessed since the dawn of writing itself… Prince Lucitor and his ilk have amassed twenty-six dollars in unpaid fees!”

The tension in the room nearly evaporated in a heartbeat as Tom and Janna paused momentarily before bursting out into raucous laughter.

“Seriously, dude? I could just, like, repay it.” He fumbled in his pockets for his wallet for a moment before being interrupted once more.

“Do not condescend to me, children! It is far too late to make up for these sins with mere currency. Revenge is my fee most overdue, now prepare to meet… Overdoom! I shall harness the power of the written word to spell your demise!”

Books were hurled from the depths of the crevice en masse. Tom stepped in front of Janna to blast them away, but they had taken on a life of their own and homed in on him, covers flapping in the air like wings. Behind Tom, Janna snatched one out of the air to thwart a flank attack. She grabbed his left arm and pointed it up, tapping his elbow frantically. He spared a glance and saw the paper tornado coalescing, and understood her intention. Demon flames surged out of both hands with Janna calling the shots for the left side and Tom focusing on his right. They used the opportunity to back up to a wall, letting them cover every attack vector but creating a stalemate they were sure to lose in time as the seemingly endless offense droned on. Overdoom for the time being simply floated out of the abyss, glaring harshly at them as more and more papers kept emerging.

“Wait, Tom, look…” Still using his hand, she pointed to a shelf that had fallen at an odd angle and hadn’t collapsed into the abyss. There was a large, torn-up poster on which he could barely make out the word “Historia”.

“That might be it,” he breathed out, starting to feel the burn from minutes of nonstop vigilant defensive demon blasts. Oddly, none of the books in that corner were joining the assault. Almost as if...

“It’s making them magical in the chasm.” Tom’s heart leapt up in his chest at the revelation, hope and adrenaline mixing in his veins to keep him fully alert. But charging in was a suicide mission and they clearly couldn’t win on raw firepower.

“Have you had enough? Are you children yet ready to come scrawling on your hands and knees to a-tome for the sins of your forefathers?” the imposing figure growled, bristling impatiently.

“Did it seriously just use the tome pun again?” Janna griped, running her hands past her eyes and down her cheeks in disgust. “For a word nerd, that’s just awful.”

“Yeah…” Tom absent-mindedly responded. He knew she was right, though. Book, tome, scrawl… even if the creature’s summoning powers were off the charts, and it wielded them with calculated ease, its cocky wordplay taunts left something to be desired. It struck him then: what if they’d been approaching this all wrong? If the battle couldn’t be won by blows, then they had to find another option, and Tom was ready to put his plan into action.

He quickly shook off Janna’s rather tight grip on his arm and stepped forward, mustering up a confident expression masking any fears he still had left. “Nice try, Overdoom. Your words aren’t scaring us. Learn to read the room!”

Its “body” immediately began wiggling violently in the air as it crawled a bit forward towards them. Tom paid careful attention to its back end, which had climbed a few feet out of the ground in the move. “How dare you! Petulant brats!” Literary fire and brimstone rained down upon them with more fury than ever, and the two backed up into a corner which was the best they could do in a room largely devoid of any cover.

“What the hell-” Janna whispered through gritted teeth. Tom wriggled his tail out and waved it in front of Janna’s face momentarily. “Now is not the time to-” She was cut off when a barrage of index cards launched at them with enough force to somehow chip the stone behind them on impact. Tom forcefully nodded his head towards the worm’s tail, waggling his own once again. Her eyes lit up much like his had and she nodded in understanding.

“Come on, is that the best you got? I’ve heard them all before, at least give us something novel!”

Janna stood beside him, and her grimace even managed to spook Tom a bit. “I’d alphabet you couldn’t do better even if you tried!” Not what he would’ve gone with, but hey, if it helped tick Overdoom off then who was he to say no?

“You can talk up a storm all you want, but no matter what volume of air you blow, all I feel is a not-so-rough draft!”

“ENOUGH!” Overdoom’s tail launched out of the chasm faster than either could follow, crossing the room in a heartbeat. Tom shoved Janna out of the way before it wrapped itself around him, dragging him much more slowly towards the abyss. His jacket and jeans mercifully protected the paper edges pressing into him, but it was still a painfully tight squeeze that left him gasping for air. His arms were uselessly pinned inside the embrace as he was dragged headfirst, but their hypothesis had been proven correct as all the books around them had dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Tom!” Janna called out. He strained his head to see she’d removed her beanie and had something purple in her hand that she lobbed at that moment. Through the haze of pain he recognized it as another of her potions. The arc was due to miss until he summoned his energy reserves and redirected it with a weak burst of flame from his boot. Though the glass was durable enough to not melt or shatter, the demonic heat changed the potion into a bubbling olive green milliseconds before it contacted a random segment of the behemoth they were fighting. All at once, its hold on Tom and the rest of its body went limp as it began floating lazily into the air before bouncing off the ceiling a few times like a balloon. Janna ran over and helped Tom up as Overdoom screamed inarticulately from many feet above. They traversed the chaotic mess towards the pile they’d spotted previous. After some digging around, he found ‘Historia Homewnum’ miraculously unscathed and protected by a large, sturdy slab of mahogany that had fallen flat on top of it. “I got it!”

“Cool, potion is wearing off. We need to go.” Janna calmly stated. Twin jets of fire erupted from his feet as he swiftly passed the book to Janna and scooped her up in his arms, carrying them across the room towards the door. After setting Janna down, he hesitated for a moment as she stood in the doorway.

“Do you think I should still pay the late fee? I feel kinda bad and-”

“TODAY MAY HAVE BEEN YOUR VICTORY, BUT TOME-ORROW WILL-”

Tom sighed in resignation with a very unimpressed expression. “OK, yeah, never mind.” And with a quick slam of the door, they were both out scot-free. They didn’t stop running until they arrived back at the elevator. Once inside, they slumped down onto the ground as they began the journey back up to the main surface of the Underworld.

“Woo!” Tom was caught off guard by Janna expressing visible joy, and it was immediately infectious. “Now that’s an adventure. Of course, demon fire is what makes the potions work. Makes a lot more sense. Stupid ink smudge, I burned all those lemons for nothing.” He belly laughed, falling over to the floor and clutching his gut as Janna kicked him in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Her foot backed off after one last good hit. “So now you just have to give that book to your mom?”

“Yeah, should only take a minute. Want to come with?”

“Dude, she’s half a story tall and cries lava. I’d be honored. Oh crud, Pony’s current stream title is ‘WHY Y’ALL CARE MORE ABOUT EARTH TURD AND B-FLY THAN ME?!?!’” Janna showed him the notification on her phone. “That can’t be good.”

Tom pulled out his phone and called to see what was up. Pony picked up after only one ring and didn’t even bother with a greeting as she screamed so loudly that he lost hearing for a moment in his right ear. Her voice carried through the elevator car even without being put on speakerphone. “Yo Tom, why do all my Pony Pals just want to watch those two idiots kiss and cuddle? What is up with that? I even gave my fanbase a stupid nickname, they eat that stuff up, so why won’t they looooove meeeeee?” Business as usual with Pony, it seemed. “An-y-way, this whole shopping spree was amaaaazing, I am all kinds of extra fabulous now. B-Fly and Earth Turd took over the stream cuz the viewers, like, wanted a Q&A sesh but I’m only giving them twenty minutes! Hmph!”

“Might as well just make a whole show about them,” Janna chimed in, rolling her eyes a few times for good measure.

“Wait, demon boy, is Janna there? What the heck have you two been getting up to? Don’t tell me you too are getting your freak on too, I could not handle that T.M.I.-”

Yeah, there was nothing more to gain from that conversation. Tom flipped his compact shut, disconnecting the call. Wait, ‘too’? Did she mean- he shuddered involuntarily. You know what, nope, just not going to think about that one.

“So glad I turned off the cameras,” Janna mumbled, curling up into a ball on the floor, clearly not wanting to touch that whole situation either.

He opted to make contact with the other group via Marco instead - why he hadn’t just done that in the first place, he’d never know - and sent a quick text. “Marco wants to get dinner at the Waterfolk Kingdom in, like, an hour and a half. Apparently Star found some earrings she wanted at the last minute, and Pony got arrested for shoplifting three seconds after I hung up.”

Janna cackled in response. “Let’s just meet them there. My jacket got ripped to shreds by the possums last week, might as well get a new one while I’m down here. Been thinking about changing it up. I kinda like that style.” She lifted up his arm and poked at a button on the sleeve of his own.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can show you where I got it.” He stumbled over his words, still caught off guard by this new normal-person-Janna. The elevator dinged and the teens began their trek through the Lucitor castle in search of the queen. “So, the Librarinth... we’re definitely going back there at some point, right?”

“Totally, bet’s still not over. We should do this more often, you’re not so bad a friend.”

“You too, and yeah, we should.” Looking back on the day, it had honestly been one some of the most fun he’d had in a while, despite almost dying at least once. Tom still wasn’t sure what to make of this friendship brewing between them, but if it meant more days like this to look forward to? Maybe he could get used to that.

[thisnerdsadventures]

end of zoom week 1

This week was weird - some days, I felt like I was flying, productivity hitting 150% like I was back on Stud 5 with an extra flurry of energy at 11pm after a bag of chips and a coffee from Verdes. This was me Tuesday morning, Monday afternoon, and a bit yesterday night. But there were also some days where I felt like I was just a little bit below the surface of the water, staring at the world above me and watching it pass by, but not being able to breathe it in. Sometimes I could even feel myself slipping, sliding down a slope into the dark water, unable to stop the descent.

I wake up some mornings, like today, where for a few fleeting seconds, I look up at the wall next to my bed and I see the photos that I brought back home from campus that I taped up, and I am flooded with memories of the school year. But I turn my head to the other side of my room, and instead of seeing my dorm room setup, the posters of my college events pasted up on the wall, I see my high school awards, childhood photos, and a small pennant from Yale tacked up on the wall. The last few weeks come back to me, and I feel a sinking pit widening in my stomach. 

Nowadays, it takes me nearly an hour to get out of bed - I’ll alternate between mindlessly scrolling through notifications I missed on the East coast morning and trying to go back to sleep. The worst mornings are when I’m in a dream, and I’m with one or two of my friends on-campus or elsewhere, and for a few dream minutes, nothing is wrong, but when my eyes open and see the white walls of my high school bedroom, I’m lying on my back, chasing the fragments of reality I wish still existed. At school, it would take me a max of 30 minutes to get up out of bed after my alarm went off, but it’s become so so hard to now. I think about what usually gets me out of bed, and I realize it’s my friends, the thought of seeing them in the Infinite, getting lunch with my friends after our security class together, having the longest conversations on Stud 5 about anything and everything. Without that, it’s becoming harder to find a reason to start my day.

In terms of classes, my classes have varied in how much they’ve helped us accommodate, from being extremely understanding and flexible, to just about the same or what I would expect, to almost getting worse with stacked deadlines and mandatory attendance. I only have two classes I have to show up for now, intelligent mutlimodal user interfaces and negotiation. My UI class is at 8am now in pacific time, so I’m really doubting my ability to function anymore. It took us fifteen minutes to figure out how to pipe video sound into the Zoom meeting, and we started class at 8am sharp, not 8:05am, as we would’ve done on-campus. All this, this early in the morning -  it’s a very quick way to find me in a very bad mood. 

Negotiation, on the other hand, was quite interesting - half of us couldn’t figure out how to raise our virtual hands in Zoom and the class felt really different over Zoom than in person. But they’re doing the best they can, and I appreciate that. We have our first virtual exercise on Monday and I’m once again avoiding looking at my confidentials because the last time this happened, I camped out in the stud for like 10 hours over the course of 24 hours prepping. It turned out great that time, but I honestly don’t know where I’m going to come up with the motivation to do the same now.

I had a plan to read a paper and prep for my UROP meeting later today at 2pm. But I woke up with that sinking feeling in my heart, and I’m tired of looking at my screen, I feel the eye strain headache coming on, and I have no idea what I’m going to do today. My mom just came into my room and asked me what I was up to - she’s wondering if I want to help her make bread. I said I was reading papers, but have I read a single word today? No. Maybe I need a stricter schedule. I know I can’t work on a single thing for more than three hours at a time, so maybe I should stop lying to myself.

I felt the same way this past Tuesday - after around 3pm I gave up being productive and scrolled through every social media platform I had on my phone for nearly 2 hours, and then I felt an urge to play music. So I wandered over to my guitar and my piano and found an old trove of songs I wrote in high school. I tore it apart, flipping through pages and post-its, throwing stuff I didn’t like on the ground, like I was searching for something. 

What was I looking for? 

I would play through a song, mumbling the words I scrawled down, for 10 or 15 seconds and then move on to the next. The pages on the floor were creating a pile, and it grew larger and larger. I found myself stepping on papers, trying to find the one that I threw down... four songs ago? Maybe five.

I guess I was looking for a song with the words and the chords that would help lift the weight that was keeping me down, stuck underwater. 

I don’t think I found one.

Maybe then I’ll help my mom make bread. These papers are not going to get read before my meeting. Maybe that’s ok.

[identityexcavationstation]

Week 2: Keeping Ourselves to Ourselves

I’ve been doodling a lot lately. This seems to happen the same way every year: one day in January I wake up knowing how to draw. And because I only do things I’m already good at and always stay in my comfort zone, I start drawing a lot. While I’m resigned to the fact that, eventually, my drawing powers will wane and I will again become a simple civilian who can’t scribble out a figure to save her life, I’m thriving right now. Yesterday, I drew two hands. TWO! And they actually looked like hands. Ah the wonder and mystery of youth. 

Look at these suckers! Nails and everything! God I’m talented. 

These recent doodling days have brought to the surface a lot of questions about my process and the (big) difference between my public-facing work and the art I do just for myself. I post on Instagram very rarely—once a month, maybe—because I want to share only the best stuff, the work I feel a.) done with, b.) proud of, and c.) ready to share. (Turns out that’s not a lot of work.) But I create a lot more stuff than I ever share with the internet, my friends, or my mom. While I do get stuck in my head quite a lot (if you’re an avid reader of this blog, you know this... as if there are any avid readers of this blog lmao), I also constantly need to be making and moving to prove to myself that my presence on Earth is justified. 

One of the ways this manifests is in my journaling practice. I began seriously journaling (where “seriously” means every day, mercilessly, with no breaks) the first day of 2017 and have done so ever since, save the six-month period this year when I was in a really bad place and didn’t want to remember anything I did. That moves into the bigger question of why I do it: you’d think it would be to reflect on my day or whatever, but I’m constantly reflecting on everything I do all the time and it’s frankly so exhausting that it would be easier to not have to sit down and think even more about what I do and why. Put simply, here’s why I journal: 

(I need you to pretend those pictures of the Simpson baby are pictures of me when I’m thirty. Just go with it.)

I am my own audience. I always have been. It’s such a no-brainer for me that I often forget there are other people who may one day be seeing and experiencing the things I’m creating. (Last semester, when I was working on my Minor in Writing Capstone project, I had a transcendent, revelatory moment in which I thought, “Huh, I should probably determine my audience for these essays.” The deadline was two weeks away. That’s how deep this thing goes.) When I think about who’s gonna read my journals, it’s my future self. That’s what drives me to be candid and expressive in my writing every night: Future Me needs to know who I am and what I did.

These doodle pages I do in my sketchbook or on handouts or on fifteen Post-It notes at 2am function very much the same way, although the process is much more intuitive. I listen to what I want to make in the moment without judging or questioning why. This is so hard for me to do when I know other people will be seeing my work, but on my own, it becomes this magical headspace I can’t easily replicate on demand. Here are a few examples:

One of the coolest things that happens here is that words just float to the forefront of my mind and I write them down. Song lyrics, questions, fragments... none of it really makes sense to me at the time, but when I go back and look days or weeks later, those words (paired with images) retroactively provide a crystal clear reflection of my emotional state. That first image up there, the one with the hands? I drew a hand and then my brain said, suddenly and without explanation, “The hands are the lips of the arms.” Like, what the actual hell? I still have no idea what that means, but it was begging to be written down, if only for the laughs. And I bet when I come back to it in a few weeks, I’ll know exactly what I was talking about. 

I think part of the reason I value this work, why I do it at all, comes from the immense regret I feel for not documenting my teenage years. It’s not just because I’m trying to reconstruct them in retrospect for this project and that’s hard... I think I really missed out on an opportunity to explore my feelings and create a space inside myself devoid of ridicule. I didn’t write poetry and I barely drew because I was too afraid of making something cringy or ugly or emo or “bad.” I thought of all my life, my entire identity, as public-facing—completely vulnerable to scrutiny, in need of constant defense.  

That’s one of the most challenging (and exciting!) parts of my project: I’m trying to publicize my own private life in a way that still feels private, personal, borderline voyeuristic. It’s true that my book will be inspired by the form and function of the yearbook, a highly public and social object. But I’m attempting to juxtapose the preconception of the yearbook as a document created specifically for public consumption with all of this personal stuff—“stuff” being both narrative/conceptual and visual/physical. In short, I’m creating public-facing documentation of personal identity and experience using private ephemera, things that my protagonist (i.e. me) thinks no one will ever see.  

The most complex and worrisome part of all of this is the layers of inauthentic manufacturing I’m doing when it comes to visual documentation. (Part of my point is that adolescent identity is highly manufactured and constantly policed by society and the inner self, so I guess it’s fitting and meta and all that, but it sure as hell isn’t comfy!) I’m trying to recreate private creative documentation processes, like the ones I use in my journals and sketchbooks, with the full knowledge that this work will be seen, consumed, and critiqued by strangers. I have to think about how to make people care about both my personal experience as a teenage girl and the broader subject of identity in female adolescence. On top of that, I’m burdened with the rights, feelings, and privacy of the other “characters” in my story, the people I knew and loved and lost when I was fifteen. Deep down, I know that my memory and perception of others’ adolescent identity is just a funhouse mirror reflection. But how much of their teenage selves would these individuals be willing to share with the whole world, if given the choice? 

Everything is so much simpler when the only audience I answer to is me. 

[tathrin]

tagged by @indarkstars

Rules: Simply answer the following 21 questions and tag 21 people (or more!) you’d like to get to know more!

Name / Nickname: Nicky

Sign: saggitarius (I have arrows!)

Height: 5'7″ish...it varies? I guess?

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Last thing I Googled: I was trying to use the word “sartorial“ in a story but I was spelling it too badly for spellcheck to help, so various misspellings of that until I got to the right answer. (I like how this is basically the same answer as yours with different details.)

Favourite musician/s: Uhhhh....let’s go with “folks I’ve been listening to lately,” shall we? Aurora, Svrcina, Rachel Rose Mitchell, Seanan McGuire (yes, that Seanan McGuire! No really, music too!), Pink, Ruelle, Nightwish, Tatu, Loreena McKennit, Blackpink, Hayley Kiyoko, Dessa, Within Temptation...

Last song I listened to: Here We Stand by Hidden Citizen featuring Svrcina is currently playing on my shuffle, so...that.

Song stuck in my head: See above. Although it was almost Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen because that lingered for a while after a Good Omens fan vid I just watched.

Followers: Um, 247??? I assume most of those are old, defunct blogs... O_o.

Following: 133 (but it’s mostly the same ten or fifteen people on my dash tbh, and that is not a complaint; I really like those ten or fifteen people!)

do you get asks: Nope. Well, except on rare occassion when I piss someone off...but even then, not nearly as much as I probably deserve! XD

Amount of Sleep: ughhhh let’s not talk about this right now; I stayed up ‘til 4am yesterday because I hit a Writing Groove and I do not have regrets, but I am sorry. Not as sorry as I was when my alarm went off this morning, but sorry.

Lucky Number: Nope. But I always used to pick 2 for things in school, because for some reason that was considered a “boring” number and no one else ever wanted it, but it was almost number one which meant it tended to be handy...

What I’m Wearing: maroon trousers, striped green and purple socks, and a navy blue shirt with a stylized blood drop on the front over which is printed the Mandalorian saying “aliit ori’shya tal’din”...in the Mando’a alphabet, of course! (Translation: family is more than blood.)

Dream Trip: Dream trip? Back to France--Provence and Paris and Angoulême--and, because it’s a dream, I actually speak French. More realistic trip I am longing to take sometime soon? I want to take my mom to Wizarding World of Harry Potter, as she has never been...and I want to go to Star Wars Galaxies. And possibly live there. (Oh but if it’s a Dream Trip, can it be a Star Wars Galaxies that exists in Legends Continuity? Please, yes?)

Favourite Food: There are too many foods I love to pick, so I will say durian.

Instruments: Celtic Harp. Yeah, really. But don’t let that fool you into thinking I am actually musically talented, because I am not. In fact I have both forms of cognitive amusia (beat deafness and tone deafness) mildly so yeah, no musical talent. Can’t read music either (long story). But I do know the basics of playing a Celtic Folk Harp and hey, good news about a harp? It is practically impossible to make them sound bad. So that’s convenient!

Languages: American English with fragments of Mando’a, French, and Sindarin.

Favourite Song/s: Oh man uhhh....hey, let’s go with “my theme song” instead because that actually has an answer that doesn’t just involve me scrolling through my latest shuffle playlist and writing down random titles lol: Weird Friendless Kid by Emilíana Torrini. (No I am serious to the degree that my gradeschool lunchbox was actually even purple).

Random Fact: I hold my pencil really really really fucking weirdly, to the degree that I have never met anyone who does even remotely similar, and complete strangers often stop mid-sentence to gawk when they notice me writing (not so much drawing; apparently it’s fine to draw like that but when they find out I write that way too that’s when shit gets weird) and I’ve never had a writing cramp.

Aesthetic: ...I’m only supposed to have one? Okay, how about Lazy Geek?

Uhhh okay @derinthemadscientist @hsavinien @superdragonoftheeast @overzelos @voldemorrissey @quasarsniffer @alanfromrochester @vonboomslang if you want to and anyone else who is interested!

[calystarose]

ask meme

tagged by @modernotter :D 

Rules: Answer seventeen questions and then tag twenty one blogs you’d like to know better.

Nickname? Caly, and sometimes my mom refers to me by middle name (Rosebrook) instead of my legal name.

Starsign? Pisces :D

Height? 5ft 4in

Last film I saw: Lego Movie 2

Song stuck in my head: presently I don't have one, but all evening yesterday I had "Everything is Awesome" stuck in there because of the movie :D

Other blogs? several, on dreamwidth, lj, pillowfort and some of the others as fandom tries to find where to shift. All of them are as calystarose. if you see a blog/account somewhere that says calystarose it's probably me

Do I get asks? almost never

Blogs following? a lot :D I'm not sure how to answer this, like a list? I mostly follow my friends from other platforms/earlier fandoms, cute animal/nature accounts, and fandom-centric accounts

What am I wearing? blue shirt, purple shorts, bare feet

Dream job? Honestly, fandom anthropologist or something like that. I love fandom and how it works. I love watching the language in fic change, the way tropes spread from fandom to fandom, I love trying to figure out what is canon vs fanon via reading fic only. Fandom is my way of life. :D

Dream trip? A tour of the Mediterranean's big islands: Sicily, Malta, Crete, Cyprus, etc

Languages? I'm only fluent in English. I'm (slowly) learning Spanish via duolingo, I've somehow managed to retain fragments of the 1.5 years of French I took in high school, I have dabbled (via Berlitz travel tapes) in German, Russian and Swedish (I adore Swedish, if I were to learn a language for fun it would be Swedish it's so easy for me to pick it up and retain it, I'm not sure why.) I attempted to learn Slovak at one point because. Well, because of Bel Ami pron and the cute guys in that were primarily Czech and Slovak. :D

Favorite songs? um that changes a lot based on my mood? But let's say: Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko, Pynk by Janelle Monáe, and Gasoline by Halsey

Random Fact: I had my tonsils out when I was 6 years old and over the next three months I literally grew one foot in height as my body finally got the oxygen it needed. My tonsils were so large they completely blocked the back of my nasal passage.

Tagging: uh I always feel weird with this so...whomever would like to, please do :D